We have created a million subdividing inner circles of both highbrow and downcast with exclusively subtle rules for inclusion into these secret societies. This desperate craving to belong began in middle-school if not before. People, places, position, possessions, rank, station, and a multitude of other countless qualifiers lull us into temporal “better than” inner circles. But the novelty loses its luster and we find we belong to an inner circle we despised less than three years earlier. From wearing all black gothic to donning vividly vogue poolside attire, we must fit in. Belonging by exclusion. Many inner circles espouse unconditional love but unconditional hatred creates them and the house of cards crumbles. Many espouse hatred, proffering bravado tough guy exteriors but grace sneaks in and the inner circle is abandoned by all but the lonely few clinging to an insecure illusionary core. And then the unimaginable happens and such bonds by polar opposites grows stronger than a creek side Oak tree. A Marine Corps soldier and a flower child leftist dare to look beyond the facade and society’s label gun and because they do, in laying down fear-wrought arms they grow to like the other. They share (as we ALL do) this eternal now in common. Inner circles are like cancer cells and with topical, superficial treatment, they will proliferate. What is at root of all conflict? The insufferably childish demand to be right.
“Thou Shalt be Dead Right.” The dualistically American trained mind. All or Nothing. Either Or. Everywhere from the white supremacists to the Black Panthers to the 44,000 Christian denominations — the inner circles are clamoring for clichés, mottos, meaning, purpose, and recite their innumerable platitudes. Good enough has a peculiar way of feeding off an identity of acting better than. This is the false self. A charade. Separation is the ego’s grasping for a sense of identity. And at the end of the day, little boys and girls wearing all black gothic, business suits, vivid poolside attire and a host of other decorative divisional costumes lay down at night wondering, “Who am I?” In truth, no one has been anyone but a caricature, the ideas in the mind. How’d it happen? Small children don’t compare, label, compete, or cling. We got the cart before the horse. Have to do something BIG before we BE something simple. Such Immediate relief stifles redemption because too many choose to spend the Now winning battles that never satiate, neglecting to realize the war has been won.