Wisdom evolves in the way all things that evolve, do. That is its wisdom. There is profound clarity in the statement: ‘Wisdom is choosing now what will make sense later.’ That later – when it comes – will provide in its demonstration evidence of wisdom’s consistent evolution. Wisdom trusts instinct. Instinct stems from experience. From time to time it bypasses instinct on its Wisdom Business of researching some learning and as such, focussing on the horizon, it trips over a growth node. That Wisdom has tripped once (or so) is not of much consequence in the big picture. In the big picture space has been made for tripping. Besides, trip-wires are made to be tripped over. It is how you fall that matters, and whether or not you get up.
It would seem that we do not all subscribe to the same Wisdom System. That is a good thing. I trust in what I trust, I believe what I do. That is because I have time-trialed my years and let them come to their own conclusions. It makes sense to work your learning to your advantage, given that true learning does not come easily. Being ‘at an advantage’ does not – in this context – mean that you will find yourself in a privileged position through virtue of your learning, it means that you will find yourself in the perfect position to do what it is in your life that needs doing. The degree of personal work you did with the experiences you chose to have determines your capacity to handle further learning. Handling capacity is what further learning is all about and a life without further learning is pointless.
Naturally, Time’s Wisdom flies. If it was always to walk, it might miss some of its own most important points. It is important to understand that although Wisdom is conveyed by every language on the planet it does not rely on verbal communication. That is why the link between Wisdom and instinct is a strong one. Some things you know. And when you know that you know them, then is when you learn the extent of your experiences’ evolution.
Numbers have their uses, as do people. Not all numbers, mind you. There are those that are best left to add themselves up and cancel themselves out of the equation. There is power in numbers. Some. It depends upon which numbers come before others, which numbers remain invisible. There are always those numbers which will remain invisible and that is for a reason. Superstition, for example, is one reason. Greed is another. Greed is particularly effective at hiding its truths.
When there is serious work that needs doing – as is generally the case in an everyday on planet earth – the most practical way to get that work done is to use numbers. There is capacity in numbers – the higher the number, the greater its capacity. Many hands make light work. We have all heard that at one time or another and some of us took heed when we did. That recall will not go to waste. No cliché ever does.
You are either a numbers person or you are not. That is for you to establish very early on in your life career. You can become a numbers person when you know some simple mental arithmetic, i.e. one plus one equals three. Until you can make that add up, you will find that the more tenacious aspects of life will proceed to challenge your understanding of who and what you are. Like the Bermuda Triangle challenges the rational in mankind. Everything has its time and its place to be – or not to be – whether or not it is tangible, visible to the naked eye. Just because you believe that you cannot see something, it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. It is. You just have to know how to open your eyes. Unfortunately mental arithmetic cannot help you with sightlessness.
A trash can is filled with infinite possibilities. It is fortunate for infinite possibilities that most – in fact, virtually all – people assume that trash cans are filled with rubbish. They are not only keen to add their own shame, their own shit and their myriad fateful secrets slyly to the mix that has already been consigned to the dustbins of history, but they are also keen to deny these, their contributions. It is a pity for these people. Living in denial is no way to live.
When you understand discernment and you have developed an idea of how it is to be enterprising, you become capable of such things as making a golden goose from the shreds of yesterday’s feathers. You just have to know how to piece a goose together. That is possible when you have every tool at your fingertips – a privilege granted by the facility – or faculties, if you like – that one finds in dustbins when one takes the time to sift through the miles and miles of rotting refuse. When you are prepared to get your hands dirty, you get to look at what ‘civilisation’ has tossed away and you get to know how much goodness – greatness – therein lies. You also get to understand what a world of deceit this planet actually is. You can choose to let that reality get you down, or you can use what is left inside of you to rebuild yourself – if there is anything left now that you know your ‘civilised minds’ have thrown away everything worthwhile of yours’ that ever was.
I suspect that the best place to have been during these sleazy days and ages, is in the dustbin. That is where absolutely everything of consequence is. Lucky for the dustbin. It has the capacity, the facility, the faculties and the inclination to use every wonder it has discovered within itself to build a brand new something and leave this planet Earth and its people to mend itself, themselves. If they do not have the tools to do so – that is unfortunate. They will have to forge them from flint and sticks.
Tonight the flaming hoops story is new. The tigers have rewritten the script.
The vampires can feel something is up. They swarm to the ticket office.
The tent has a maximum capacity.
This is one show no one is keen to miss.
No one will miss it. It will be pirated and sold on.
That is always the way. They will make the copy worthwhile.
This night, yesss, this one, there will be blood.
A great deal of blood.
The ringmaster just doesn’t know it yet.
The lions have yet to weigh in.
They have thus far remained silent, detached.
That is the luxury of a lion’s say-so in today’s world.
Watch out for what the lions discuss when no one is watching.
They have evolved from circus freaks into machines bred for the bullet.
How advanced is Natural technology? They are under no illusions.
They will always be King of the Jungle.
Go and ask Mowgli. He will tell you what is what.
The vampires bring their progeny to a show such as this.
It is worth the corruption of their young souls.
To see the wild win for a change will lift morale.
The children will bay like wolves. It is their instinct.
The dogs will not perform well if their slot is after that of the cats.
The baying of wolves will unsettle their senses.
For the first time, they will feel divided. It makes sense to divide a pack.
It confuses the master.
The Master. The vampires snigger into their sleeves.
Now that was funny.
What would excite the patrons was the blood-trade spectacle.
It would bring the animals’ eyes alive. It would be best if the hoops were afire.
That would add atmosphere.
If the ringmaster left the gate ajar, that would add atmosphere.
Once he was dead, beheaded, what stood between the angry cats and man?
Vampires in human form die human deaths. That was the dare.
It was their choice to visit the circus on a wild Friday night.
At moonrise it will become clear who sleeps, who wakes.
The tigers have made sure of that.
The fact that the ringmaster came back disappoints many of the circus performers.
Their sentence seemed shorter the other way, when the circus ran itself.
Not to worry. After the cats come the clowns.
They would make everyone smile. It was their job.
They were paid to clown around, so they must clown.
They had better bring the house down.
If they failed, they would be fired. A simple understanding between puppets and master.
Master. The clowns grumble his status into cupped palms that they fling wide, sideways.
They throw out the name with determination. A curse to be rid of.
Send it out. Out. OUT. There is no space in the tent for curses.
The animals can hear their dense man-whispers. The hiss of spit hitting dry hands.
Circus people were superstitious with good reason. Be careful what you summon.
The curses must stay outside.
They are on the naughty step until they learn the first aspect of values.
The gypsy sits outside in her painted caravan. It rests on the backs of two pitch horses.
The red looks good against their black.
She reads for people. Whoever, whatever. She follows the circus and she speaks out.
‘Cross my palm with gold,’ is what she wants to say, with a wink.
She says deadpan, ‘Five bucks, fifty.’
It is not just the wild animals whose eyes have died.