I sit writing this to an incredible piece of music. Rufus Du Sol’s Innerbloom has me locked in creative peace: me, the music, and a blank page smiling at the creative jaws of eternity.
Growing up, beauty pageants were a common enough occurrence on TV. I never cared much for the plasticized beauty of the contestants, nor did their mellifluous generalizations regarding the state of the world mobilize me in any way.
The single enduring memory I hold of those pageants comes via my father. Both during the pageants and after, he’d reference how the girls always cited world peace as their ultimate goal, should they win the title and become ‘ambassadors’ in any genuine capacity.
World peace, hey. That’s a trope, right? The ultimate get-out-of-this-complicated-existence-without-killing-yourself philosophical tagline. The idea is regularly advertised in modern human narrative, whether it be via film where the hero defeats the villain and gets the girl, books where the hero defeats the villain and gets the girl, and… wait, a pattern’s developing.
World peace is, on balance, an insidious idea. By believing it to be an attainable goal, moralistic people continue to be trampled on by opportunist business people and governments, all the while thinking that those serving out hostilities and injustice will one day meet horrid fates. The fact remains that whatever happens to these power-mongering capitalist barbarians, it’ll probably occur aboard yachts or in ski resorts, while those holding on to the idea of world peace will die in far less comfortable circumstances.
I’m by no means advocating latter-day capitalism or anarchy or any particular manner in which to live; I’m merely stating my thoughts and offering them to the world. What I am saying is that should people choose to look closer and see the engineered patterns that form the fabric of everyday life, they’d see that the idea of world peace exists only to set up the throne for its ruling counterpart.