Here comes the bride…

This post might not be for the faint of heart.  I’m not normally a violent man but…

It all started on Monday with a pervasive advertising campaign.  Posters and commercials all over London, each with the same odd message: “Remember Your Roots- Protect Not What You Can Never Become”.  Nobody knew what it meant or who was behind it but it was fucking everywhere.  Most of the media chalked it up to some dumbass movie campaign.  On Wednesday night the ads changed.  “Be Free, Be a Man, Walk Away”.  The source wasn’t any clearer and by Thursday those two  advertised phrases were on everybody’s mind.  They sank into the unconscious the way viral, ubiquitous advertising can.  And I guess they worked.

Friday dawned gray and misty, the streets shrouded in fog.  By late morning it had settled into a steady light rain, hardly the perfect day for a royal wedding.  As the nuptial hour drew near they started to appear in small groups.  African tribesmen in traditional garb holding long hunting spears, Basque men dressed in white carrying long knives, a group of Scots with giant Claymores, some Arab men with robes flowing around their long curved scimitars.  Dozens of small bands of warriors from all over the world slowly converging on Westminster Abbey.  Television cameras swung wildly around as the mob, now some 200 strong, reached the first security checkpoint.  None of the yammering reporters could have predicted what would happen next.

Drummers, hundreds of them, seem to appear out of nowhere.  And pipers.  The air was filled with the drone of the only musical instrument ever outlawed as a weapon.  Over the music you could begin to make out a chant, starting with the warriors, taken up by the drummers and soon the surrounding the crowd.  “Remember your roots, Be a free man, Walk away”  The same phrase, over and over.  It was quite the scene.  And it created a little modern day magic.

There are tipping points in history.  There are times when some brand new awareness becomes common knowledge.  When a new consciousness erupts and suddenly everything is different.  Kind of like the Grinch when his heart grows three sizes on Christmas morning.  This was one of those moments.  In one moment the security forces were raising their guns, unsure of what was going on.  In the next moment they weren’t.  They got it.  Maybe it was the advertising.  Maybe it was the economy.  Maybe it was just time, but they got it.  First the police started to disappear.  Then the soldiers began to shoulder their weapons and retreat into their vehicles.  Some of the commanders started to yell orders but soon enough they got it too.  Soldiers and cops aren’t royal or rich or elite, they’re used to protect them.  In less than ten minutes all that closely planned security was gone, returned home to protect what was truly important.  Their own.

Inside the Abbey they had no idea what had just happened, only that there seemed to drums and pipes out in the street.  That changed when the huge Viking threw open the doors and some 200 anachronistic warriors charged into the wedding.  In retrospect I guess it was easy.  The guest list and seating chart were readily available online and all the guests with “royal blood” all seated together.  They never stood a chance.  Every last one of them fell to a blade, spear, or sometimes just a strong pair of hands.  Men, women, children, it didn’t matter.  Elizabeth lost her head.  Charles begged.  William and Harry fought back but were quickly overcome.  Kate, being a commoner, wasn’t touched.  No so called commoner suffered a scratch but every last “royal” was butchered.  Blood entrails covered the finest sik and jewels.  It was all over in a few short minutes although I’m sure it seemed longer if you were in the church.  As the warriors headed back out into the street the Viking swung his bloody ax, impaling a document to the church door like some kind of barbaric Martin Luther.  And just like that they were gone.

“To all people,
The time for divisions is over.  There is no more ‘Royal Blood’.  All people ARE created equal.  Everyone deserves respect.  Other elites should take heed.  Act accordingly.”

Of course that document has received a lot of attention.  There’s been a lot of debate about “What this all means”.  And lots of hand wringing and calling for investigations.  The usual crap.  Who knows if anything will change.  But I guess there’s always hope…

A simple allegory.  Or not.  Vaya con Dios and Viva la Revolucion.

An update…

Well, it seems I haven’t posted anything here in a while.  But I have a good excuse.  I’ve finished a whole bunch of books and I’m about to launch a new website/business/temple.  And that’s been a fuck of a lot of work.  So anyway, here’s the deal.  You might have noticed that the blog has changed a bit.  That’s because it’s being folded into the new website.  I have a big new blog post coming later this week on the royal wedding and then, on Sunday, the new website will launch.  So stay tuned.

In the meantime here are a few Easter/Passover/Spring/Earth day thoughts.  This time of year is truly one of renaissance.  The Earth is reborn after it’s long winter dormancy.  Every religion celebrates that rebirth in it’s own way, and good for them.  I hope you use this time to be reborn too.  Whether in Jesus, Abraham, the Goddess, Mother Nature, or the great Whatever, revel in life and resurrection.  But let’s all take a minute and remember our friend death.  For without death there can be no rebirth.

Sure, everybody likes the happy side of the death/rebirth cycle.  We all like bunnies and chicks and eggs.  You never need to take up a collection for fertility and spring.  But none of this would be possible if the old things didn’t die first.  And no, I’m not just being a killjoy.  Quite the opposite.  If we truly believe in renaissance mustn’t we also celebrate the death that makes it possible?  Isn’t the first step as worthy of celebration as the second?

Let’s look at some examples. Do you really believe in some kind of afterlife?  Than shouldn’t funerals be as joyous as births?  Why aren’t divorces as exciting as marriages?  Why is a dying pet so sad when a new puppy is so much fun?  Aren’t they all two necessary sides of the same process?

This isn’t just some intellectual exercise.  For any of us to grow personally we need to accept that our old selves must die.  Perhaps if we were more comfortable with the death side of the cycle we could let our old selves and egos depart with less resistance.  The fact that I’m launching a new venture just after Easter has not escaped me.  I think I’ll go for ride in the hearse or lie in my casket to celebrate.  Anyway, it’s just a thought.  See you in a couple of days with a royal wedding rant.  In the meantime, Vaya con Dios and Viv la Revolucion.