I remember being taken to the bullfights in Mexico as a child. I remember the great esteem held for the Matadores.I had a favorite one myself.... the story of Manolito... who from a barefooted, dusty little poor boy... became one of the greatest and most respected of all Matadores. A great Matador will not allow the pesky Pecadores to tire the bull out, torture the bull to exhaustion before facing it afoot. He will dominate the bull by overwhelming it with his presence, rather hiding behind the cape. He will remove himself from the battle to acknowledge, Honor, Love and the Romance of Life. He will honor the bull for its strength and determination. He may even lean over and kiss the bull upon its forehead for its glory... because he knows that to do so.... increases his own glory. And finally..... his Kill will be skillful, quick and Death, can be witnessed as a thing of beauty. We often forget that animals must die for us to eat what we eat.... but the arena did not allow us to forget. And it reminded us of the need for honor and respect towards the animals we consume for our own sustenance. But lesser men.... made the bull ring a spectacle of horror, a tortured animal, abused, exhausted, tormented and horribly stabbed and killed without honor.... in fear and disgust and without dignity. Such Matadores were soon a disgrace, or the bulls horn found them and they were no more. But, now the bullfights are almost gone from Mexico..... the Matadores no longer, worshipped. We Americans, considered the sport, to be animal cruelty, and I suppose... it was. But there are two things I would like to point out about this analogy, this allegory. We judge others without looking at what we do. We slaughter bulls horrifically, every day by the thousands. There is no honor, no glory. The village does not eat. There is no ear from the bull... no trophy for the one who provides us with meat to eat. There is no romance. There is only death and machines, grinding and killing and feeding us torture and torment, sickness and disgust and death. Daily... we who eat meat.... eat the flesh provided to us by lesser men, operating the machinery of death... on an industrial scale. And yet we pointed our finger at the Mexican arena and called them names and in our enlightened affinity for animals, denounced the Bullfights as inhumane. And so they lost their glory and barely exist anymore. But there is more to this allegory. You see, there is another side to this story from the bulls perspective, because in the arena the bull, at least had a chance to survive. It has no chance against the machinery of American industry. In the culture of the arena, the Elderly bull who had survived the ring might have developed a mantra to pass on to younger bulls. That mantra might have sounded something like this: It is only when the bull sees the man behind the cape, AND changes his focus... that he has an opportunity to avoid the sword. The elders already knew that the cape blowing in the wind, was not the enemy, nor is it the source of the inflicted pain when that reality is charged. Every time a bull changes its attention from the cape, to the matador.... the matador shakes the cape of reality.... and draws the bulls attention away from.the exposed matador. But sometimes...... the bull sees the man behind the curtain, refuses to be distracted by the flapping images of the cape ...... and wins the fight. We, ourselves, as Americans... have need to learn from the mantra of the bulls, who have fought and lived. The cape is a wonderful distraction, but somewhere there are men, behind the capes, inflicting pain upon us.... and then we die. It is not a dishonorable thing to die for the sustenance and glory of mankind.... but let us not give ourselves to slaughter, exhaustion, abuse and torment for men to feast upon ingloriously. Let us always keep our focus upon the men behind the cape. If we must die, who are made cattle by the matadores and the machinery of a modern age.... let us make those men honorable in our demise.... or let them know the horn of our truth, the horn of our reality. It is we who make them glorious.... It is we who by our strength and valor and determination make them honorable... our bloody hearts held high that make them notable... and our deaths that have made them wealthy. There is no choice for us... between liberty and death. We can only choose Liberty, because Death is inevitable.
Posted on: Mon, 23 Jun 2014 05:14:13 +0000
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