The Unknown Plan

By Don McCormick

The time is now.

This is the year to do the most important tasks.

This is the opportunity,

While we still have our wits,

While we are unknown and still have our freedom.

This is the place to cause changes.

This is the reign of disorder and arrogance.

These are the people fascinated by tick and money.

These are the people who reject lives of quiet desperation.

These are the people who have turned away from cartoons

And plastic, pop-up visions of actors in charge.

Now is the time.

We have waited long enough.

We know what we must do.

Let us release ourselves from the prison of the dialectic.

Let us unpin our jackets from the Age of Reason, from the Age of Kant.

Let us rid ourselves of Smith and Marx and Keynes.

Let us clear the table of all shells and the room of all baggage.

We shall not commit to any simple-minded system.

We shall look at the important things:

The causes of death,

The causes of sadness.

We shall be well and happy.

Here are the instruments of death:

Your hand,

Your friend’s hand,

The hand of a stranger,

The company,

The government,

The system.

Here are the instruments of sadness:

Your words,

Your friend’s words,

The words of a stranger,

The company,

The government,

The system.

These are the causes of death and sadness.

The instruments are closed, fixed, and determined.

Here is all we seek:

An open hand,





To swiftly change the company, the government, the system

Before hands close and we are fixed by death.

Now we begin.

Now we take away the instruments.

Now the powerful tremble from the unknown plan—

The taking away of the closed hand, the fixed way, the determined future.

Let death occur at the end of life.

Let us bury the old after their time.

Let us sing, and remember, and cry, and hug the ground,

And visit their graves, and pile stone upon stone,

And plant flowers, and tend their places.

Let us think about everything,

And carry all they were and their genes into every future.

But let us not close our hands and kill them before their time.

Every person killed before his or her time fixes the system.

Every person killed before his or her time takes our lives with them.

We are two million years behind our destiny.

We have wrapped our fists around rocks

And, with them, have killed until the flesh and bones of our would-be lives

Have become the fabrics of our companies, our governments, our systems.

Now is the time to say no.

Put down the rock, the stick, the knife,

The sling, the bow, the cannon,

The missile, the bomb,

The radiation.

There is no argument, no excuse, no defense.

Put them down.

All life is cut too short.

It has been two million years.

Let us put them down.

We have food on the earth not yet poisoned.

We have food to feed all of us and all living creatures.

We have credits in the electronic storehouses

In the names of those we have allowed to eat.

Now, let us collect the names of every person on earth

And give them credits in the electronic storehouses

So they can eat, as well.

To hell with the companies and the storehouse tenders.

To hell with the reign of the last two million years.

We can, all of us, have permission to eat.

No man need stand up because he fed the starving

And say he gave his life for his brothers.

His life was shortened, too, and robs us of our future.

It closes hands.

It fixes the company, the government, the system.

Every person that breathes, works.

That is the value that will be recorded in the electronic storehouses.

There is every occupation and

More to do than time given to us to do it.

We must see work as what people do,

Rather than what we think they should do to maintain the system.

We are the means to nothing.

We are the instruments of no man.

Work is from the beginning of life until the end.

It is not related to whether you eat.

It is listening to sounds within your mother’s womb.

It is watching your parents from your crib.

It is kicking your legs and crying and cooing.

It is pulling yourself up on bars and chairs.

It is crawling from room to room.

It is stacking blocks.

It is laughing when thrown into the air.

It is coloring walls.

It is scribbling on paper.

It is saying rhymes.

It is writing capital letters, then little ones.

It is adding numbers.

It is washing dishes and clothes.

It is playing ball and dancing.

It is writing sentences and paragraphs.

It is doing long division.

It is reading books and writing papers.

It is performing and talking and showing off.

It is courting.

It is falling in love.

It is helping your family, your friends and strangers to survive.

It is music, art, science.

It is your time, your life.

It is not another’s life.

You are not the instrument of another.

Work is not lacking anywhere.

It is the companies that are lacking.

It is the government that is lacking.

It is the system that is lacking.

Work is abundant.

It is not related to eating.

Break the clocks.

Break the connection between the rhythm of life

And the assignments given by the instrument tenders.

Listen to your body.

Open the windows and let the sunlight and wind stream across your face.

Awake and do the hardest tasks first.

When you are tired, rest.

When night comes, make love and sleep.

Forget whatever happened that was sad.

Laugh when people tell you the hour of the day.

Hug them, tell them about the sunlight and the wind.

Tell them to stay home when it rains.

Tell them to listen to their bodies.

Tell them their work is what they do.

Tell them it is not related to eating, or clothes, or freedom.

Tell them you broke your watch.

Offer to break their watch and laugh.

Laughter is the measure of time on earth.

When you laugh, you did not die.

You survived.

Someday you will die, but the day you laughed, you survived.

Laughter will cure you.

It will loose the fixed things.

It will open every hand.

It will push aside every determination.

It is unity with our creator.

It is the sound of our life and of our freedom

One Response to “The Unknown Plan”

  1. Don Says:


    This line was posted by some apparently automatic blog engine, but doesn’t resolve to a real address, however it seems, oddly relevant:

    > Real meaningful endeavours, the biggies in human existence, often require the sacrifice of others…

    So, Don’s response to what is not likely  a ‘human’: 🙂 but still, also relavant, follows:

    It is your personal sacrifice that is meaningful, regardless of what others may do. Human existence is not very big or very long in duration.