A RAINBOW GLOBE.

On Saturday, Oct 26, 2013, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

'Spirits don't age, they just shapeshift.'

When i was a kid in some other facet of the dream hologram of memory, there was a dark cubbyhole at the top of the stairs, referred to as 'the box room.'

Typically, a repository for boxes of stuff. Last year and the-year-before-thats' faded christmas decorations and everything that you'd rather not think about.

I don't recall there being a light in there, you had to switch on the landing light to retrieve anything.

A dark place full of rarely if ever to be unearthed treasures, otherwise forgotten but not gone, rather like 'junk DNA'.

A cool place for a kid to hide, call it the subconscious.

Two items stand out in that facet of memory.

One, a heavy stack of bound newsprint periodical volumes of 'The War Illustrated.'

With grainy black and white, mostly grey, photos of the progress of Adolf Hitler's exploits and ongoing repercussions. Lots of smoke, shiny helmets, gun turrets, tanks, stiff legs and stiff arm salutes, rows of linked armed women in headscarves, and page after page of spectral grey dismal ruined buildings.

Suitable fodder for childhood nightmares.

On the other hand, fortuitously as if by design, a stack of flimsy periodicals from before the age of glossy paper, called, 'Peoples Of All Nations.'-'Illustrated.'

I should say,'profusely illustrated.' Mostly faded grey like the text but interspersed with somewhat gaudy full page colour photos featuring indigenous people of all nations in their traditional dress.

Fascinatingly bizarre and exotic for a child's imagination. Place names you don't hear of like Siam and Arabia and all these globally diverse peoples seemingly happily ensconced in their equally exotic habitats.

Obviously by hindsight a magical synchronistic ingredient, provided for my formative artistic incarnational blueprint.

Meanwhile, back here in the eternal present continuum 2013 with the relative benefit of maturity.

A world ostensibly still run by lurid grey newsprint tyrants with less empathy than a psychopath and no more qualified to run a world than run a hot bath without a disasterous bloody overspill.

The less said about the obvious the better since minions are legion and more than half of them don't wear traditional dress.

On the other hand, and of the only 'real' priority and significance, WHAT ABOUT THE PEOPLE OF THE EARTH ?!

The Earth people, ( i don't know where the others come from. Mars, Saturn, Nibiru perhaps?)

The Rainbow Nations of the rainbow globe.

That's most of us, we're all intrinsically still indigenous to somewhere if only dormantly, underneath the flimsy grey newsprint facade of coerced monoculture.

Imagine, i mean 'really' imagine, a totally thriving, vibrant, harmoniously blended rainbow globe in all its true diversity and colour. If the only thing kids were encouraged to do in 'school' was to express that, creatively, as a foundation, the enthusiasm to explore further by themselves would be a positive voyage of discovery.

I know from my sanctum sanctorum subconscious-made-conscious-because-innate on landing that this is how we're designed to be. The more said, the better, about the obvious when it concerns our true colours.

If colours of the rainbow fought among themselves for the pot of gold you'd have the muddy mess we've got today.

If they all hid their true colours we'd be left in a world of nothing but grey.

Life thrives in harmonious diversity. While monoculture is totally wiped out by a single alien virus.

As for the 'mono-men', by definition they're always invaders. Armed with stealth, deceit, thin ended wedges, and equivocal hypocrisy.

But no emperor ever wore decent clothes you couldn't easily see through. I mean, 'suits'!

They stand out by their intended anonymity. A thoroughly transparent disguise.

If you homogenize a spectrum you're left with nothing but a spectre. With no possibility of harmony. Uniforms are for people who insist on uniformity.

Having said that, i took a break and went out to look at the stars. For each and any aimed glance up into the dark void of the cosmos of night, there are infinite endless unimaginable worlds each behind the other in a straight line without end forever. Regardless of distance which is relative, in infinity how could it be otherwise.

Yet am in awe of wonder to rise and recline embedded among such finely balanced fertile bloom on the face of this orb or semi-oceanic sphere, for all her ironic elemental density so blighted with seeming cruel pathos and needless ungracious drama.

To be natively awake to such immensity is not to be diminished to a microcosm of zero point insignificance alone, but simultaneously blended and bathed in all inclusive participation as one with the dance of golden dust particles held and illumined timelessly in a vast bright vaulted beam through all eternity,

forever voyaging and returning home.~

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Rainbowmaker~

Photos: Rainbow Globe, martin law