From the Preface of “An Old Soul’s Guide to the Universe: A Metaphysical Journey to the Mansion Within” by Vincent Bocarossa…
The following poem was written by my dear friend, Carol Mudgett, and it always rang true to my ears after the first time I heard her read it many years ago. This poem encapsulates how thinking has been compartmentalized and socially conditioned within our educational systems. Our esteemed Founding Father John Adams offered these words of wisdom… “Children should be educated and instructed in the principles of freedom.” “Let us dare to read, think, speak and write.”
“The Box” by Carol Mudgett
Upon this Friday in the grass A butterfly did land a lass Upon my toe she handed me A winged world where Love is free She spoke of God, a coming grace To seal the gap between the race Where souls unknown do look for Truth In time and space, their search for Ruth Beneath their lives a river source Where footed plight does take its course Through dreams and thoughts of other worlds They walk upon this devils pearl They notice not the Son above But worship false instead of Love They know not why their well is dry They know not why their children cry Beneath the sky, a butterfly Did sing a song of reasons why She wanted those who wish to know Why God would come and simply go You see, she said, uncurling tongue The breath of God does fill the lung It wanders through the flesh and bone Its symphony through life is blown Yet man sees not the mystery Where God is Love and Love is free He sees it not, for out of fear That Truth would send his life a jeer For instance, take the childhood box Where children learn to fear the pox The first disease, we’ve all agreed To catch their minds, and plant the seed That germs are bad, a scary bunch They’ll eat you whole, your flesh their lunch They see you not for who you are A master soul who needn’t scar How odd indeed, the parents creed That children need to learn to feed The same impressions of the fear Their elders forced upon them clear And so we put them in a box For twelve long years they wear the socks Conforming to the victims curse So they may learn to fill the purse So when their parents come of age And feeble minds do set the stage They have the means to make secure Afflicted pains that need a cure To ailments of the physical Without a doubt intrinsical How dare we make our children think That pestilence is spread through drink We tell them that they’re born in sin We tell them that they’ll never win For good guys finish last you know Our words are deadly piercing blows We teach them they’re to be ashamed Their bodies fraught, with guilt they’re maimed How dare we make our children think Their tiny morsels pure and pink Could be no other than Divine Of Love they make their bodies fine As souls enmeshed with bone and flesh Their minds awake, their thought is fresh And so I watch the children sad To leave the playground makes them mad They can’t believe they have no choice They can’t believe they have no voice And so they’re slowly robbed of joy Behaving not like girls and boys They’re not allowed to jump or wiggle They cannot laugh or even giggle For once the doors to schoolrooms close They’re made to mind and sit in rows They’re taught that life is just a job To study hard and beat the mob They learn to hide their feelings true Where judgment rules, and truths are few They simply learn to shut it down And question not the Prozac clowns A deadened life their world becomes All neat in rows, they make the sum Unconscious thought, before them placed The soul distraught, the false embraced And in the false, the soul forgets Itself as Lord, imprisoned pet Of earthly lies that bind them here They man their guns, and heighten fear A world where sex is all that counts Where love is sex, and Truth denounced They choose a mind of conscious death A plot once told by Lord MacBeth Discrete until the very end Embittered hearts with scars to mend They hold their heads in disrespect And consecrate the Sacrament Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned Confessions of the dramas spinned My web of lies has spun me well And for my spell I’ll go to hell And into Dante’s hell they go Unmended hearts, take heed in rows They dare not face the fire inside They dare not see the soul denied For twelve long years, they do conform Until it’s time to move to dorms Where higher thought, in box decrees Upon their genuflected knees To worship to a higher God From theories they are free to prod Their minds of scientific proof Where knowledge seals their fated roof And with diploma firm in hand They join the fellow working band Where souls do sit from nine to five In boxes still, they spend their lives And so the children come of age Their fated lives, the adult cage Where souls forget their truest task To manifest the essence cask To feed the Spirits with the trees To talk to rocks, and mind the breeze They walk in shoes of discontent They manage time, until they’ve spent A lifetime doing nothing but Complaining of their daily rut But for their children, they did try Their lives have passed, they can’t ask why Instead, they only hope and pray Their children find a better way Then through their children they may live And have the things they meant to give And so they send them to the best Of schools with timely honored crests To study hard and mind their dues So in the end their free to choose The life their parents wished they’d had To sing and dance, and go unclad A life with no regrets to sire A life where deeds did not require The selling of the soul in spite To wrong the world through fear and might A worshipped bed of thorns and nails A crossed tongue of breached wails To dandelions scarred in heat A wishing well of bloodied meat To thee I worship in the name Of bitter rogues who look to blame A game of luck, a duel hard pressed A mind of mortal spoils unrest To thee we worship in the name Rejoice, “The Box”, a willing shame “The Box” by ©CJM
The public education system needs an overhaul as many young adults lack the basic skills necessary to read, write, do arithmetic, critically think, or problem-solve.
Through Michael Dennis’s “Building Dreams” program (buildingdreams2020.org) I have assisted and tutored several young athletes with their writing skills.
Seven Types of Thinking 7. God/Tao/Creator Consciousness 6. Higher Mind/The Bridge 5. Critical/Discernment 4. Collective Consciousness/Dreamtime 3. Imagination 2. Introspection 1. Pure Thought/Ideas
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