Reading, Writing & Thinking

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From the Preface of “An Old Soul’s Guide to the Universe: A Metaphysical Journey to the Mansion Within” by Vincent Boccarossa…

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.

Education in your culture is a mixed bag…and education comes not from schools alone, but from newspapers and television, magazines and books, from art and from newspapers and television, magazines and books, from art and from culture’s own feedback. Generally speaking, for the purposes of this discussion, there are two kinds of education — one focused toward teaching the child to deal with the natural world, and one focused toward teaching child to deal with the natural world, and one focused toward teaching the child how to deal with the cultural world. Obviously, these are usually combined. It is impossible to separate them.

Your educational systems, however, for all of their idealism, have largely ended up smothering the natural individual bents and leaning of children, and overemphasized instead the cultural organization. It became more important, then, for the child to conform to the culture rather than to follow its own individual natural leanings. Its own characteristics ways of dealing with nature were frowned upon, so that education doesn’t not work with the child’s abilities, but against them. Education then often goes against the grain of the natural person.”

The Magical Approach: Seth Speaks About The Art of Creative Living (p. 87-88)

How carefully do we read? Do we pay attention to spelling as we read and speak? Educator Laurel Airica shares a delightful conversation with Aubrey Marcus on “The Magic of Spelling”…

Where do our words originate from? We can all benefit from a deeper knowledge of the words we choose to use…

etymology (n.) late 14c., ethimolegia “facts of the origin and development of a word,” from Old French etimologieethimologie (14c., Modern French étymologie), from Latin etymologia, from Greek etymologia “analysis of a word to find its true origin,” properly “study of the true sense (of a word),” with -logia “study of, a speaking of” (see -logy) + etymon “true sense, original meaning,” neuter of etymos “true, real, actual,” related to eteos “true,” which perhaps is cognate with Sanskrit satyah, Gothic sunjis, Old English soð “true,” from a PIE *set- “be stable.” Latinized by Cicero as veriloquium.

What does it mean to think critically? Where does thought come from?

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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