"Number nine. Number nine. Number nine. Number nine." - The Beatles' "Revolution 9"
Out of Conventional Grasps on Reality, a Land of Burning Cold and Freezing Heat
Blackness. The first sight you are greeted to on this journey, but fear not! Soon we will enter the belly of the beast, the promised land of pain and suffering, for all fallen souls and scum alike. No, it isn't Hell, that's just a Christian lie, invented to keep the masses confined to a set of rules clamped on tighter to a free nation than the ball gag you must communicate through in the name of "Free" speech. Our soundtrack for this journey, is none other than the Beatles' overlooked masterpiece "Revolution 9," heavily criticized for it's, well, listen for yourself. You, not able to take the trip yourself, whether inability or unwillingness to follow your dreams to their fullest, will be seeing it through two sets of eyes. An unbiased view on the situations that will soon unfold, and the other a person you as a viewer have seen before. You see her, you know a name, but not her name. As we get a closer and closer look at her, you forget everything you thought you knew. About her, about the world you inhabit.
About yourself.
Without further ado, we bring you a trip into the promised land. A place, of burning cold and freezing heat. Your salvation, if you'll all allow yourselves to find solace. Swallow your pride, all of it if you wish to proceed. If not, don't be surprised when you find yourself back at the gate, forgetting all you have seen so far. What was that again?
Ah yes, blackness.
You would equate that to nothing, right?
Right?
Right?!
Wrong! Blackness surrounds everything, therefore is everything.
Have you swallowed your pride? Are you finally accepting the truth in the words that you're hearing? Yes?
Finally!
We can begin our journey, but first I must warn you of something. There will be things that you won't agree with being shown to you during this journey. These things are meant for you, they are specifically designed so that you, the viewer will find objection. How you handle these objections will determine how open your mind truly is for the messages that are subliminally interjected into this reflection. This adventure, this odyssey, whatever name you wish to bestow upon it is no matter. The lessons learned are what I care about.
There is no return from this point
epoh on.
What about the girl? I can already hear you asking yourselves that very question as we sit, you and I, on the crowded deck of this luxury liner. In response, I offer no answer, I only direct your eyes from mine, moving your head with my hands until you focus on her once more. Once more, your eyes recognize every detail of her body, her face, the very pattern of her clothing is etched in your mind with a name attached to everything. A name that for the life you, you can not, will not, should not remember.
The light in her eyes/The pain in her cries/The deceit in your lies/The reason the sunlight dies
We both look at the woman, the girl, the lady, which ever you prefer. Still seated herself, her eyes peek up from the pamphlet in her hand and right at us. You attempt to pull your eyes away, but they're locked. Fixated on her, and for as much as you try to break the gaze, the more your own soul resists the attempt. You've become a slave to your own emotions, like plenty of those before you, like plenty of those who will come after you.
She smiles at you, a twinkle in her eye.
One spark to your wildfire. Learn to control yourself
Standing up, pushing her seat far from her body, she begins to walk. Her first steps appear rigid, as if she was still as a statue for quite a while. However, she approaches you not, for she is walking to the opposite side of the ship. Slowly, confidently, she climbs upon the safety rail. She turns to us once more, the smile on her face no longer there. Replaced by a similar, although different expression. A smirk, her face engulfs your vision despite the distance between you and her. That fades, and you can see her the way you're supposed to see once more. Spreading her arms like Jesus, the falsest of all prophets, on the cross, she falls backwards into the ocean and lands with a thud, not a splash.
That woman? What was her name? I know that's what you're thinking, that's what you were thinking this entire time. Finally, the name dawns on you, and you can deny your knowledge no longer.
Jessica.
Marie.
Diaz.
And you're next, to take a trip to a place where things are a little, less than welcoming. Her fall off the deep end was literal, to denote what you'll experience on your journey.
"Is she fine?"
Nothing's fine. You just can't see that.
For the first time on this journey, you open your mouth to speak, and words come out. However, to answer your question, yes. She's fine. Fine, however, is a subjective word, is it not? I can assure you that you are most certainly not fine, for you still do not believe me. You must not believe me, it's another sign of how you've been trained, conditioned, misled.
Yes, you've all been misled.
And like Ms. Diaz, you will see the light at the end of this tunnel.
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