Posted in Philosophy

When Bonds Become Bondage

the soft wood bridge building bonds turn to chains of bondage quickly....simplebender.com

Bonds are built on trust and shared purpose. What begins as social alignment can harden into dependency and quiet surrender. We’re encouraged to join teams, tribes, and causes—to belong. But what happens when those bonds start to dictate not just our identity, but also what we’re permitted to think?

Healthy bonds help us carry burdens, share experiences, and grow. They give us identity, protection, and the comfort of not standing alone. Long, strong bonds take effort: listening, repair, and the freedom to disagree without being cast out.

Yet the same bond that holds us up can also hold us down. It becomes bondage when internal disagreement feels like betrayal and outside questions feel like an attack. When you sense that leaving—or even doubting—will cost you your status, your income, your family, or your place at the table, you’re no longer just bonded. You’re being managed.

This innocuous type of bondage isn’t so bold as handcuffs. It seeps in through reward and punishment. Praise for loyalty. Shame for dissent. Fear of exile. Our “independence muscle” atrophies, not only because we stop using it, but because the systems around us—media, parties, teams, neighborhoods, companies, even congregations—profit from our reflexive defense of the group. We start repeating talking points. We don’t think or challenge; we begin to become puppets. Their script becomes our voice.

And yet, people don’t choose this only out of weakness or neglect. Tight bonds promise safety in a chaotic world. They offer clear enemies, simple answers, and the warmth of “us.” Sometimes bondage feels much better than isolation.

That’s why we need quiet tests of our own chains. When was the last time you openly challenged your group’s beliefs, and how did they respond? If you walked away tomorrow, what would you truly lose—and what might you gain?

Society survives through bonds—and through resisting the slide into silent obedience. So yes, build bonds. But also actively seek out and connect with those who think differently, and to those your group teaches you to fear or mock. Cross-group ties don’t erase convictions; they loosen the hidden shackles of certainty.

Stand with others, not under a thumb or behind a shield. Bonds are necessary—bondage is optional and may not be escapable. NeverFearTheDream   simplebender.com

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Posted in Political

Rabbits’ Revenge: A Fable of Hidden Strength

Protesting 'Rabbits' Ain't No Fun When the Rabbit's Got the Gun

King Wannabe stood before the crowd of people, his back hunched, too feeble to be erect, his greying, bushy eyebrows raised, his face twisted in contempt. The people would not chant his name nor bow to his image. “Rabbits,” he scoffed. “Nothing but rabbits. They eat, they breed, they exist for my pleasure. Especially the young ones—for my pleasure. Everyone must love Wannabe, everyone, especially these rabbits.” His entourage knelt in obedience, fearful of his rage.

One brave advisor dared to whisper, “But sir, no one is loved by everyone, and they are more than rabbits. They are people, with minds, with hopes and dreams.” In a buffoonish manner, Wannabe waved the thought aside, clutching a handful of pamphlets. “Look at these. Lies! All lies! Their words are filth. Take their paper and their pens. Silence them, cancel their culture.” He signed an Order, and the dutiful minions obeyed, seizing what they could.

Yet the words did not stop. Thought traveled without ink. Discontent spread without parchment. And so Wannabe tightened his grip. In a tyrannical rage, he yelled, “We will control the news. We will make them pay to speak. We will force them to listen. We will tell them what books to read. We will be their favorite, the one they love; they will love Wannabe.” Again, with trepidation, the advisor leaned close: “But sir, even without paper, they have found their voices. They still have minds. And even rabbits, when cornered, will bite. Not today, perhaps—but one day the rabbits will bite. Remember this if you remember nothing at all. And heed the hunter’s satire.” The Wannabe dismissed him with a bitter laugh and a sneer. “Nonsense. They are only rabbits. They are for my pleasure; their only care is to eat and breed.” He arrogantly sneered. “And as to the satirical, I hate comics: ‘ain’t no fun when the rabbit’s got the gun’ is just silly. It’s for the weak and timid; not for Wannabe because Wannabe controls all and fears nothing.” He laughed, but his laugh was uneasy, and the silence from his minions was unmistakable and deafening.

Seasons passed. The whisper and wisdom of the sage advisor lingered. The people—mocked as useless, underestimated lagomorphs—grew weary of abuse and felt more cornered yet bolder. The self-serving advisors, sensing doom, scurried away with whatever spoils they could steal. At last, Wannabe stood alone, his armies and decrees powerless against a multitude no longer afraid, but resolute and united.

And from the crowd, like sparks catching fire, came the clamorous chants:

“Today the rabbits bite.”
“Ain’t no fun when the rabbit’s got the gun.”

Protesting against authoritarianism

The chants rolled through the streets, half warning, half laughter, but all serious. It was no threat of violence, but a proverb of irony. These people, these ‘rabbits’, had never needed literal guns because they had found something much more lethal—strength in their numbers, in their unified ideas, in their memory, dreams, and words, and now in their collective refusal to bow. The chant was their laughter, their truth, their declaration that the world had turned and change was in the offing. And the wise sage smiled a subtle, small, sly smile, always knowing and anticipating the power of their unity.

Civil society thrives only when none are treated as beasts, but as human beings with voices, hopes, and dreams. Wise leaders understand that thought is stronger than chains and the pen is stronger than the sword. The silencing of truth and thought control is always temporary; revolt begins the moment words are stifled, and action follows when endurance breaks.

If you have a gun—put it down, and put it away, we rabbits don’t need them.

Instead, pick up your pen and write your thoughts and dreams. Raise your voice and speak your mind. Open your ears and listen to others. Kings, Emperors, and wannabes are mortal. But thoughts endure. Words endure. And yours are essential. #Ain’tNoFun

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