The truth is people can say whatever they want whenever they want to; but it’s up to the the audience’s discretion to choose to whom to listen. Sometimes people talk without listening, and sometimes people listen without talking, the latter is the role of the audience where the media is concerned. A captive audience, yes. But discriminating minds in the end. In this day of blogs, everyone can have a soap box.
Whereas it used to be someone would have to collect themselves to a square in England, or wherever they might find themselves, now one can spout off in curlers and a cafkan, from the comfort of their own living room. This, is primarily why one chooses to remind oneself of the right to choose to whom he or she will listen. Leaving no need for censorship.
This morning while listening to the radio, the annoncer read a few letters from people responding to a man who had voiced some extrememly provocative views. As it turns out, he wasn’t the only one with an opinion. At this point, the listening audience was in the process of making their own judgements. Something happened to me only recently, on my own personal soap box or blog, I was given to voicing some rather racy ideas. Or so one might think.
A picture portrait of the love I feel for my wife, as it were. And my great uncle, somehow posessed with the need to peer into that aspect of my life, called my family, including my in laws to complain that I was being lewd. Now, the problem here, is in perception. His exact words were “outrageous” and “shocking”. And maybe it was, but only to him. The truth is that, that blog is full of devotion, to my wife. And those are the love letters I would send her, if only she was still with me. My opinion is, there is an audience for everything.
And perhaps knowing this is why I never included him in the mailing list, as I have my wife’s family, who fully understood. To quiet that voice would be to stifle the chemistry we had always felt for one another. Without this medium, and freedom of expression inherent, I would metaphorically die, wither like the blooms of summer’s day and pass away.
In the legendary words of John Lennon maybe we should just Let It Be. Instead I now
Imagine my every thought and deed, but primarily the culmination of both: that being words, censored. And when I imagine it as such it feels like stammering. It feels like never being able to have the flow of a spontaneous moment, it feels like things are always subject to analysis and criticism, first and foremost. My learning, up to now, has taught me to just let it be. There are many things of this world some good, some bad and some not so pretty. Acceptance of their reality is giving someone or something permission to be what it was created to be: that being different from you or me. I find it hard to believe that an organization, of any kind, should have a