Knight’s Move Thinking

I used to think that I was “supreme” because I was caucasian.
I used to think that being “white” was really something special.
I used to think that skin tone was priority.
I used to think that I was better than people who looked different than me.

I was young and naive.
I was vulnerable.
I was scared.
I was alone.

I was trusting.
I was starving for knowledge.
I was dying to be a part of something bigger than myself.
I was noticed.

Like a spotter for the sniper, the “Skins” took me to the “Aryans”.
Like a child without a father, the little boy in me took to the comraderie.
Like a puppet, I regurgitated with precision to the others like me.
Like a true predator, I warped their minds with my rhetoric and statistics.

I was manipulated.
I was lied to.
I was used.
I was now one of them.

I was “proud”.
I was “supreme”.
I was “WHITE”.
I was confused.

I had curly brown hair.
I had dark brown eyes.
I had nothing in common.
I had nothing to be proud of.

I began to notice a lot.
I began to ask questions.
I began to read more than the books I was told to.
I began to learn the truth about the things I was to be “proud” of.

I stopped reciting what I read.
I stopped reading what I was told.
I stopped receiving favors.
I stopped having “friends”.

I started seeing truth.
I started seeing lies.
I started seeing myself.
I started seeing what I was inside.

The only color that mattered to them was “white”.
The only color that mattered to the State was khaki.
The only color that mattered in prison, period, was green.
The only color I saw was red.

Over the years I became bitter.
over the time I wasted,
over my skin color and now I am finally,
over that bridge.

I made enemies.
I made friends.
I made friends with former enemies.
I made peace.

I got over it.
I got out.
I got put back in a few times and
I got back out.

Every time, the lines were drawn.
Every time, the division was obvious.
Every time, the racial tension was present.
Every time, the facility was in control of us as we hated each other.

I used to believe racism was a “cancer”.
I used to believe it was like a virus I caught.
I used to believe I was infected.
I used to believe it was something I could cure, over time.

Now, I’d say it is like heroin.
Now, I’d say it is an addiction.
Now, I’d say I got high from the “pride”.
Now, I’d say I take it “one day at a time”.

I would not say I am “in remission” and
I would not say I am “cured” but
I would not say I am “contagious” because
I would not say what they want me to.

Today, I would tell you that the division is to allow control.
Today, I would tell you that the need for control is because of fear.
Today, I would tell you the fear arises out of ignorance.
Today, I would tell you that ignorance comes from pride.

Advertisements

Do you mean what I see?

I do not think inside of the box.

I do not think outside of the box, either. 

For, I am the box.
However, the box is not I.

The box is but a frame around what I see myself to be.
Yet, there is no box, unless I want one.

Lost?

Go look in the mirror.

Do you see the world around you?
Do you see yourself?
Do you gaze into your own eyes and think about your life how it is, or how it could be?

Do you see the edges where it stops reflecting?

When I reflect upon the world as I perceive it to be and how I am affected by it, as well as how I can affect it, I am often gazing into the looking glass.

A recent study I read says that if I stare into my reflection for long enough I will hallucinate. “Morphing” I believe they called it.

Why is that?
Am I so connected to my ego that I cannot deal with reality, so reality changes to suit my tastes?
Cognitive Dissonance.

Or am I so engaged in this spirtual process of self development that I am able to change too many details?
Law Of Attraction.

“The eyes are the windows to the soul.”

All these cliches and parables to coerce you into understanding my thought process.

See things from my point of view.

Are you able to see yourself?
Are you able to see the edges?
Are you able to move the mirror?
Are you willing to reflect upon your views, yet, hold true to what you see in front of you?

How many of us end up lost in this “box” idea?
So busy trying to fit into the framework.
Never looking at the world around us but only at ourselves.

How many of us end up losing sight of what we are?
So busy trying to wipe off the mirror instead of our faces.

When you can see that you are the box, you can then figure out what you’re made of.

Are you a cardboard box?
When dampened, stability is lost.

Are you a box made of steel?
Impenetrable, though, cold and hard.

Are you a box made of plastic?
Shiny and smooth, but fake, and probably recycled.

Are you a box surrounding a reflective pane?
Reflective, but enclosed.

Are you a box that another checks for you?
Unaware, yet binding.