Paying for the Cage
When the self becomes the cage we are too often taught to make of it,
with all the psycho-edu-philo-careero-socio-religio-grids we’re forced
to lug around from the time we can crawl - and as this indicates, often
for so very long, say an entire lifetime - as a kid you pretty soon
want to know how to get away, how to escape, you want to know the
tricks, the Houdini of it all, how to make a key or pick a lock or
craft a hacksaw, learn to fly, get out of a straitjacket upside down
underwater locked in a trunk, get some psychoplastique, drive a truck
through a wall, hitch the bars with a rope to the pommel of a horse,
get the sheriff’s gun, the keys are in the desk, make a pistol out of
soap and bluff your way or maybe watch a sunset or spell out a haiku,
ride the wings of a butterfly to heaven in a dream of living, why not
the notes of a bird or a symphony, there are so many who want to get
out of the cage that escape has always been a big virtual business,
just ask all the Heavenists and Hollywooders who charge for the
illusion, but never let the audience get away completely, if they can
help it.
Does it really pay to trust in those who charge you a fee to imagine?
