Edification - To instruct especially so as to encourage intellectual, moral, or spiritual improvement.
Grasping the Edification. This is what I have been doing. When you get right down to it, that's the only thing anyone ever does. Your parents begin teaching you things at a very young age, not just instilling common knowledge and facts, but teaching you. That's the problem with educational instructors for the most part: The emphasis is placed on installation as oppossed to teaching. Anyone can instill knowledge, but very few can teach.
And so your parents not only teach you your numbers, and your alphabet, and your colors, but also a certain kind of hunger. That hunger stays with you, and you move onto middle school and high school and college. I could take the time to instill (teaching is far beyond my reach...The common mind is far to closed off and set to be disturbed by my kind...but Instilling...I can do that :) the knowlege of what is involved in each of these, but why bother? They're just slightly varying ranges of Institution, the kind that focuses on rudimentary facts as opposed to individual originality and personality.
And oh how that hunger stays with you. It's the reason people attend academies and colleges, the reason married woman leave their dear sweet children with strangers to go to night school, the reason men that dropped out of junior high twenty years ago are working towards their GEDs; Because we're so desperate, so needful, so damn hungry for those facts. Everyone's looking for that wonderful bit of knowledge that might set them free, searching for that undiscovered truth in hopes of unfettering those shackles of reality and truth; and it seems like the only thing thats important sometimes. Hell, most of the time.
So that's exactly what I've been doing. Grasping the Edification. The thoughts keep running over and over again, but the words never stop coming. That's my gift, and there's nothing I could be more thankful for. I can form entire worlds...each and every emotion and thought and word spoken pours from my pen, like claret from a pretty pair of slit wrists. It's all I can do for right now...my voice is not loud, but it's clearer than any blue sky I could ever hope to see. My only wish is that maybe this old rusted machine called "Mankind" will get a jumpstart and start moving somewhere.
Perhaps we can do a little something about that.
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