Opposites Distract

You are on a path, moving toward truth. You see it peaking over the mountain, and begin to move swiftly toward it.


A peal of thunder deafens you, as a blinding strike of lightning hits ground not 20 feet from your face. You open your eyes, stunned. As attention retunes and vision returns, you now face a wall too high to see beyond, and as wide as the horizon. Your path stops here, flanked by two identical doors.

You hear the rattling of doorknobs and the creaking of hinges. Each door cracks open, and while the interiors are obscured you note what you can see.

The floor of each is tiled in checkerboard, and in each room, the silhouette of a figure tilts toward you. You hear two throats clearing, and then..

“This way! I’ll show you the way to a perfect future, all these corruptions undone. We welcome everyone, and soon everyone will be part of our unified system where all are the sa—I mean, equal! Just a bit of flexibility on your part, a few rights sacrificed, for the cause.”

“No, no, ignore that utopian fool and come this way! The old ways are best, and I can take you back to a time before all this corrosive progress. We can make this land great again. The way it was, before that one’s kind spoiled it for us. God’s on our side, kid. Right this way.”

You have to choose, and yet you hesitate. Something seems amiss. Can you remember what it was? What do you do? Are you bound to choose between the only two apparent options, or is there more beyond the facade?

Human minds are addicted to the assignment of all things to polarity. Order and chaos are no exception. People want security above all, and so they box the world up to try and own and run it, or shrug their shoulders and give up on personal responsibility in favor of moral relativism. Is it all chaos, or is it an intricate web of conspiracies and bureaucracy?

It seems to be both. Order is imposed on the perceived chaos of nature by man, who deems it wrong because it is uncomfortable. Nature perfected order before man, but it's too subtle for most of us to notice. So it goes also with autonomous societies existing in parallel with the Death Grid. Manmade order tends toward the pathological, and begets the hellscapes occasionally discussed here. The option (the Web or Life, in this case) waits, for aeons if necessary, for us to come around. And we will, in good time.

The frantic ones who say it's all planned down to the atom shrink life to the size of a panopticon prison cell, and in their fear offer no candle against the shadows. Trouble abounds, to be sure, but speak of solutions or get off the stage. The smug nihilist hipster tadpoles preaching no future and no agency of individual control leave the gate open for malevolence to operate with elbow room, and tend to help it along unconsciously or otherwise. Surprise, y’all. Complaint without contribution means you’re working for The Man.

The options as advertised are dead ends, and we do ourselves little favor when we take the shapes of someone else’s jars. If you haven’t figured it out yet, that Death Grid that chokes the earth is powered by the savage fight-or-flight emotions at the bottom of the brain (Hell) rather than the top shelf imagination and problem solving of the higher levels (Heaven). So be contrary to yourself now and then. Make a third way when there seems to be one. Ever wonder why so many religions, philosophies, artists, musicians, and architects are hung up on triples? Take a hint, and travel well.






Rope for Quicksand

Think of intersecting circles in empty space. Imagine one ablaze with light and complexity, and the other impossibly dark and bereft of detail. In the center, the overlap, the vesica piscis, is where the experience of life happens for you and me and everyone who is.

Now, activate that almond by zooming in mentally on the overlapped space. Bring it near, and rotate it until you can see the waveforms forming its surface. Uncountable layers are interwoven, yet each has a signature, a fingerprint.

Find yours. Let the others blur for now. Do you see it? Do you see a familiar loop of oscillations? Zoom out and you see childhood spike into adolescence and flatten into adulthood. Zoom in and you'll see this year, this month, this week. You'll notice the crests and troughs as your line meanders toward All and toward  Nothing.

Maybe the moments of proximity to All seem few and far between, and downright miraculous. Never let them lose the luster, even after you've seen them become the new standard. The closer you are, the more luminous the colors, the sweeter the sounds, the more gorgeous the patterns, the better the luck. "It's magic. You know. Never believe it's not so." You can go a little too far here in the gravity of astonishment, so keep a silver cord anchored back at center.

But there are those other moments, when you float into the Dark. The colors fade to grey, the music's out of tune, every face is the grimace of a ghost and every day is like Sunday. What grew is wilting, the senses assault you, and your legs and bedsheets weigh a thousand pounds. Your hell has frozen over and you're hollow, hopeless, mute.

Don't worry, you can modulate this.

Zoom in until you can see the ripples from individual actions and their echoes. That's the dataset you need, Programmer. Now call up the controls. Put all your strength into turning that first dial: contrast. Now you can really see those lines of force. Follow them through the fog of doubt into the light of possibility, wherein you may engineer solutions.

People may tell you to turn Brightness instead. It can wait. Do your work and the lights will come on just fine without you forcing them. There, see that? Each step reveals the next with clarity. But hang on. Maybe you couldn't find the Control Panel. Maybe it's covered in dust and dog hair and spent burrito paper. The system has provided a workaround. Look around for that blinking yellow light and listen for that overly polite squeaking siren.

Summon your strength and punch that button. Hit it like it gives you oxygen, because it will. Don't be alarmed when the emergency lights come on. It's all to help. You have taken the first step and you will not walk alone.

Please hold while we connect you with Technical Support. We're so glad you called.

Just a little reminder.

Yeah ok, it’s the Fourth Reich and that’s clearly awful and by all means do whatever you can to gum that horror show right up, but also remember: 

These people tried to make a mind control truth serum and created the psychedelic revolution by accident. These people created a spy network and we used it to replace the media and bring out the forbidden texts. These people replaced the food supply with poison and we’re remembering how to feed ourselves again. It’s a long, exhausting game, but we win.

But only if we fight. The key is: don’t fight the way they want you to. Most people are a little shift away from working for real change. We all have to stop falling for the division traps and get over our grudges and truly unite against The Adversary. It treats our stress and outrage and fear like some kind of monstrous happy hour at an endless carrion buffet. It’s allergic to love. It wilts in the presence of forgiveness and understanding. 

Choke it. And smile from your deepest heart while you do so. See you in the Invisible Trench.

On the road

I’m gonna go ahead and say that the overwhelming majority of evil in this world is the result of human ignorance. Some is the result of sociopathic arrogance. Some is harm for harm’s sake. What inspires that level I can’t say for sure.

Some say evil and good are both masks playing the game. I don’t think I can get behind that anymore.

Ahimsa, a life of minimal harm, may be the way to happiness. It’s not an easy way, but it seems to be the right way. You never finish being in the position of making those choices that keep you from adding to evil and feeding benevolence.

Double dare ya.

Friendly reminder: being depressed in the crash isn't crazy. But do me a favor and recharge so we can all make it.

I'm gonna challenge you because it is hard to do everything when you feel like this. Over the next 3 days, I'd like you to try the following in no special order:

Buy your favorite snack and give to the first person you see with a cardboard sign. Don't worry about the reaction.

Call somebody you have had a beef with and absolve them. This is actually more for you but it helps them too.

Go to the lobby of a hospital and talk kindly to people waiting for surgeries to let out.

Walk around an outside place with plants and water if you can. No tech.

Buy your favorite snack again, and try to eat it like you've never had it before.

Let me know how it goes. Persistence is all.

Pollyanna Overdrive

A lot of people want to play a game where everything is positive and pleasant. They pretend to have popped into our world fully formed from a perfect land where "everything was beautiful and nothing hurt," to steal from a better author. But there's one little needling problem:

They're full of crap. 

Pain is real because experience is real. Crystal humpers that want to be creating reality out of whole cloth with their daydreams are half right because you always get to govern your own interpretation/perception/reaction but since they usually just pretend they're wizards or faeries or unicorn trainers, it doesn't work and they go to a new cult.

The true oneness of interdependent phenomena (with strong evidence of overarching organization and intelligence of some sort, be it deity or emergent property) is not what people are usually talking about. It's a few layers beneath the veneer of psychedelic t shirts and ripoffs of indigenous rituals. The fake oneness is idolatry because in order to inflate the ego (by pretending to dissolve it) it denies intelligence/harmony beyond the self.

The personal self is real, though much of its visible aspect is propped up by patterns and postures. The larger oneness is real. It's possible to be both at once without being crazy or obnoxious. It's just a bit harder and about a hundred percent more worth the time. What I like about it best though is that it can be done quietly.

As it is.


In "Stranger in a Strange Land," the main character (a human raised in a Martian colony and returned to Earth) describes  phenomena with a detachment uncommon to Earthlings and in contrast to our emotional reactivity. Example: "Waiting is." Rather than be impatient, he simply accepts delay as the current condition.

I would say, here, evil is. Or maybe, depravity is. Addiction is. Escalation is. Corruption is. Conspiracy to conceal is. Control through blackmail is. Malice is. Psychopathy is. Sadism is. Predation is. Bottomless horror is.

We long for some higher sense of meaning to give us context for madness and darkness. Is there any in these things? Perhaps none inherent. Our responses, however, create meaning and even a sense of purpose.  Ideally we through our works produce progress in reducing the above while magnifying the goodness and wonder which are so often drowned out in the howling, tilted narrative that aims to keep us divided and exhausted.

Discovery is. Compassion for the victims is. Outrage is. A thirst for retribution is (some might say this only feeds the dark). Under some conditions, maybe empathy for our devils is. Maybe that's even the aim of the game. It's not for me to say, and maybe not for us to know.

But for now, as we stumble upon the often invisible tragedies of this world, sadness is. A measure of complicity is. A measure of complacency is. Guilt is. Urgency is. Desperation is, in some cases. Yet we must remember that increasingly, awareness is. Contact with our cultural shadows is. In good time, redemption is, though we don't know the shape it will take. Balancing is.

A parasitic fear-feeding paradigm with a helplessness-projecting agenda is. Darkness is. And yet ever more, light is. In the meantime, opportunity for kindness is. Inner work is.

Rippling the Pond


There are apparently many thousands of us here in this strange time and we're waking up. Some think they're done, some are just starting. It's exciting.

But waking up is meaningless if we don't help the world to be more conducive to waking up.

What if we all recorded the sacred texts, secret documents or perfect stories  that woke our minds and hearts as audiobooks and put them out for free?

What if we all left little notes in books suggesting other books readers might not be aware of?

What if we all engaged in benevolent graffiti?

What if we all got in shape, in every sense, so we would be fit to serve?

What if we practiced forgiveness and patience with each other, ourselves, and those we encounter?

I keep seeing the phrase "another world is possible" but it's not going to show up until we start tuning reality.

How will you change the music?

The Fourth Eye



The integration of mind and heart is essential for the survival and development of the human race. This core message wears many masks but ultimately the same truth is expressed. Those who explore hidden realms in order to widen their bandwidth of context and experience need to remember that the journey goes beyond rejection of status quo, beyond situational aware ness of what is unbelievable to most, and does not stop at being "woke" or trying to shock people awake.

When we stumble upon a new layer of experience that shifts our way of thinking and living, we may get so excited or so enraged or so punch drunk in love with some idea that we decide Everyone Everywhere needs to know right now and boy are they lucky we're here to wake them up. That's when it's time to be careful.

The first problem is that you can't force enlightenment. People don't wake up until they're good and ready, and some will smack the hell out of you without even getting out of bed. We all get used to our routines as a function of the survival circuit. We wouldn't be here as a species otherwise, so it's a blessing, but it's very easy to abuse, so it's a curse. We normalize whatever is going on while we're enduring it, until something cracks the glass and we notice how small our world has gotten.

The other problem is that you aren't really enlightened yet, and actually nobody is. The problem with all the verbs for awakening is that people use the past tense. Once the chain reaction begins, there's a shedding of dead weight trend toward growth. It's a process that feels done from time time time but never really is. People who claim to be enlightenED are mistaken. Unfolding into eternity is a present tense thing, not a trophy or a bedpost notch. It is, therefore, dangerous and stupid to decide you are a prophet.

The stages of spiritual development are simultaneously death throes and birth pains. The caterpillar doesn't just fashion wings. It has to dissolve the body of its youth and undergo metamorphosis to progress beyond mindless consumption into flight and a new set of senses. The Monarch butterfly is so vibrant a symbol because it's raised on poison and turns it into stunning beauty with a legacy of endurance. The world is currently in a state of high toxicity in the literal and metaphysical sense, and with that classic human adaptability we have learned to survive on it. This is good in the short term but unsustainable.

To extend the metaphor, we've gone through several molts as a species and seem to have entered the chrysalis. Whether we emerge as Monarch butterflies or Death's Head moths has yet to be seen, and it depends on whether we can reconnect our thinking to our knowing. Before this integration can occur, we should observe that at the moment, we are stuck in our heads. Our world is the product of unchecked ego driven by unclean and artificial compulsions that keep us in a trance, living small and often lonely lives. It's an easy mistake, so there's no need to beat ourselves up. As it turns out it's damn profitable to cultivate the sort of psychosocial environment that breeds these weeds.

Flashback! Life in ancient days was terrifying, and we gave up liberty for the security offered to us by the proto-sociopaths who figured out how to lie and how to not feel those pesky pangs of empathy. Coercion was born when the first ape lifted the first stone with lethal intent and felt the quiver of a satisfied smile. The seed of the police state was planted when the skull-crusher subset learned to sell protection to the weaker shadow-caster types who could only manage a good lie. We named those politicians, and we let the twins of fraud and force run the same scam for a few hundred thousand years. Cut to now.

We can do without the self-loathing and guilt that comes once we realize we've behaved badly and surrendered our power to the least deserving, but responsibility remains. The time has come to be honest about our share of the blame and convert it into our share of the work to be done. We procrastinate because there's a bit of us still waiting for a beating from the surrogate parents we call "the system." It's rather teenaged and we lash out in primitive reflex. Rebellion is essential kindling, but when it's held on to past its usefulness all it does is steal the fire. Why are we still hanging on to the thrill of that first flipped bird? Ok, ok, screw this and to hell with that, but what now?

Mind is a vehicle. It's time for each of us to clean out the car. The first step is to reclaim autonomy one day at a time, one moment at a time by understanding that walking in lockstep with environmental madness is just easier, not better. The wolf you feed is the wolf that breeds. It's a question of resonance. A little bass gives your daily driving music some meat, but too much will shake the license plate off. In the same way, too much obedience removes your identity.

Part of the reason we're all so frenetic is that we're trying to get and hoard cash. Money is magic and the bill everyone in America has access to the economic spectrum is a talisman. There have been terabytes written about what that weird little eye on the back of the dollar bill is meant to be. You know, the one floating over the pyramid. I've heard 'em all, from a salad bar of gods and demons to the gland in the center of your brain. The thing is, people are missing the point. Any of the above may be true to various cults and cultures, but look at it this way: count your eyes. Haven't you got a pair, and isn't the business end of the visual sense stereoscopic vision? There's a lot of real estate in the brain devoted to sight. Why do we imagine the 3rd eye is the only one we need to see the subtler world?

For command of space, we have to understand dimension. Depth perception demands a pair working in harmony. With just one eye, then, you're seeing the image but missing the full context. This is exactly the problem we've got, for we have abandoned the intuitive sight of the heart for the sight of the mind. Intellect divorced from empathy well describes that skull-crusher/shadow-caster parasite class and the paranormal counterparts we've come up with to say it without saying it.

Now you know whose eye that is. Maybe this whole grand hustle comes down to submitting to a world where indeed we are the blind and the one eyed man is king. So what's to do? You can spend a lifetime learning the details of the prison but there's little point if you can't embrace life on the outside. You can scratch the days on the wall or scrape out a hole through the floor under the bunk.

Open your heart and you open your other eye. It may burn at first, as all new eyes do, but in time new levels of subtlety and context will present themselves. The eye of the heart sees through the projections. It doesn't have to think because it knows.

The mind doesn't like this, or rather, the parasitic resonances installed by vulture culture into the egoic level of the mind get angry when they're not pushing all the buttons and pulling all the levers. Boy, they can make a racket. Imagine toddlers on military quality speed with megaphones and automatic weapons.

In contrast, the deep heart is cool and patient because it is in touch with the eternal. It doesn't need to debate, or convince, or verbally eviscerate for a cheap hit of dopamine. It is satisfied, so the pleasures it takes through benevolent actions are not covering up pain but adding up to joy. You can, I'll tell you, get your sea legs by doing nice things for the slightly less cheap dopamine hits. It's practice and eventually becomes natural.

People can tell in the eyes when you look with the heart instead of the mind. It's a lot like the difference between the smile you do for pictures versus the smile that comes when you're focused and doing what feels right. You know, the one the paintings and statues have. That classic "archaic" smile. What's the scoop, Mona Lisa and Saint Whoever? The secret is the knowing of the heart.

So my advice to anyone who's unpacking a new world view is to listen to the mind but hold off on believing it just yet. Give yourself the time to observe and explore without judgment. Practice opening that second inner eye so you can understand what all the analytic chatter means in contrast to the reference point you carry at your core.

Another thing to remember always is that our experience reflects who we are. If you're seeing patterns and shapes and hues dance endlessly in the world, you are the source of the beat that drives them. Again, this is not the time to blame or shame, it's the time to get clear. When we feel we need to fix the world, we must dig down past the emotion and see that our duty begins inside.

It sure feels more appropriate to jump into our cause of choice, but if we're honest, we know this is procrastination in hero drag. We owe it to our shot at life to do our best, and we won't bring what we're truly capable of to the effort as long as we're haunting our present with the ghosts of our past. If we don't banish our demons first we dare not play exorcist. Astral curb stomps are a thing to be avoided.

So thank you and welcome and do speak up. Do tell us your old stories and your new discoveries. Scare us a little more awake and remind us how to see what we have learned to ignore. Show the way to the forgotten places. Shine a light on those unspeakable forms of darkness. But, and this goes out to you and me both, get all your eyes open before you fret about "the blind." We'll be ready when you are.