Morality is, in our society, thought of as a good thing, a noble thing, a pathway to God. Indeed, there is a place for morality, just as it is appropriate for a parent to keep their child from playing in the street, but, like the child, there comes a time when our actions must be directed by another source if we are ever to be free.
Morality dictates that we obey an exterior set of guideline. Sometimes guidelines we have chosen, but usually guidelines that we are use to. Guidelines that someone else thought of which they would like us to adopt. Therein lies the genesis of guilt, shame, anger, hatred, discontent, and all manner of separateness.
If we follow the path of morality we may not get hit by the car, but eventually, if we don’t discard the external decree and step out on our own, we will live forever in the confines of our own front yard. It is a risk we must take if we want to have a chance of finding true joy.
I always admire the gay, the outcast, the deviant, the bad dancer. It’s easy to conform, but on the way to freedom we will always find that we are somehow different, somehow odd, somehow not the way we are suppose to be. A thought creeps into our mind that clouds the status quo with questions about our true nature. At first it’s a whisper we can ignore, but in the benevolent way of this universe it gets louder and louder until it screams at us “let me out of here!” Then, no matter what closet you’re in, you have a choice to make, live or die. It’s really that simple, and it’s really that crucial, but it’s not really that easy. It it were we would never have gone into the closet in the first place. It’s not easy to come out into the light, most of us never do, but it’s infinitely more . . . more, more something that is quite . . . remarkable.
There is a proper way to dance, a silent decree that dictates what is and is not appropriate on the dance floor. Often, I hear a snyde remark, a snicker, a laugh “look at that” I hear as they point to a man or woman with no sense of rhythm who is dancing in the front alone. I bow to them. They are willing to forgo the appropriate, the proper, the externally imposed rules about what is and is not appropriate in their mosh pit world. Eccentric he is called, in insult, and I bow even lower.
Eccentric becomes not only the ultimate compliment, but the only true way to live, only in eccentricity can we find joy, only in eccentricity can we find God, only in eccentricity can we finally find the one thing we so desperately want to find, ourself. Would you really like to be like the people in the “center” anyway?
What is your choice? The safe, path of societal approval, or the “Road Less Travelled,” the dangerous path of integrity? Morality is infinitely easier, but I assure you, when you break through the barrier of externally imposed shackles, the light will shine brighter than you had ever imagined possible. But you already know that.