A List of Campaign Promises in an Election Year Where There Are a Lot of Bees Around the Pool

Neoconservatives and Neoliberals (in unison with slightly different accents and each with checks from the bee lobby):

We've always had bees in this pool. We will skim off the ones who fall in and drown but you'll have to embrace certain bee-related realities to have a pool.

Far Right: We will drench the yard in DDT until nothing flies within 1000 miles.

Far Left: We will ask the bees nicely to leave.

Green: Do we really need a pool?

Libertarian: Not my yard, not my problem. But by the way,  I happen to own a line of bee-less pools so I can fix this with your support.

Anarchists: We drained the fucking pool and now there are no bees here. You're welcome.

Reality: Colony collapse disorder. Bee presence highly exaggerated.

A Prayer for The Invisibles

23 people had been arrested for resisting the construction of the Bakken Pipeline in North Dakota when I started writing this piece a few weeks ago. At the moment, there seems to be a 20 mile "buffer zone" being held in which protestors are successfully preventing further digging. 

The project is intended to cut through sites sacred to the Standing Rock Sioux, including their graveyards, which would be enough of a blow in itself. The more sinister threat is to the groundwater. It's no wonder the protestors are being called water protectors.

Quite understandably, the project has met resistance, with people locking themselves to construction equipment among other direct, nonviolent actions. The reaction to the Native resistance and their various allies? Pipeline security complete with pepper spray and attack dogs, followed by The National Guard and another emanation of what is to me of the spookiest trends of all: militarized police. The picture below is of a truck mounted sonic weapon called an LRAD. It's Army surplus, clumsily painted in black and white. Developed to knock birds out of the sky and assault pirates, it has been adopted for crowd control. It blasts a focused beam of sound wherever it is aimed that can torture or deafen. Cops do not need this thing. This is a toy for bullies.

More of a Deaf Ray than a Death Ray. Close enough.

More of a Deaf Ray than a Death Ray. Close enough.

So why are you having to find out about this on blogs? The media silence is hardly surprising. News is a business, not a utility. There's no money in ugly truth, especially for those who cut their teeth on exaggerated celebrity scandal and glassy-eyed corporate shilling.

Not everyone thought it should go unreported, but it's an election year and the media does what it's paid to/told so it was down to the fringe until the story got traction on Twitter. I am a little amused that my main source of on-scene info comes from a censored source called Unicorn Riot, whose reporters were arrested along with protesters. Facebook, it should be noted, was tagging Unicorn Ninja's live feeds of the arrests as "malicious," and they were blocked. Thanks, Zuckhead.

I'm always in support of the side that's receiving the pepper spray and sound canons and attack dogs. I should be fair. what do the cops say? Here's the Sheriff:

“Carlo Voli and Corey Maxa were arrested Tuesday, September 13th and will face an additional charge of reckless endangerment for attaching themselves to equipment…
The Morton County States Attorney’s office will pursue felony charges against the protesters who attached themselves to equipment due to the seriousness of the crime. Law enforcement officers are put in a dangerous situation when freeing these individuals, there is also a danger posed to DAPL, their workers and equipment along with the protester putting themselves also in a dangerous circumstance. We continue to encourage people to protest in peaceful and lawful manners.”

In other words, wave signs and tweet all you want because that won't slow down production, but don't get serious or it's riot gear and "less-lethal" weapons. This is reminiscent of the "free speech zones" at party conventions where one is "allowed" to protest in "designated" areas, the WTO protests in Seattle, the Occupy crackdowns all over, the Black Lives Matter marches against police brutality that were met with more violence. More often than not, especially these days, we find ourselves with an ugly realization:

The cops work for the crooks, whether they know it or not, and many up top certainly do know. Some of them really go for it with gusto.

So what do the crooks say? Dakota Access says their pipeline is safe as it will monitor pressures and shut off to halt leaks, but declaring your own project safe does not solve any of these problems. Is there independent proof of this? We can't trust the pipeline company to tell us if the pipeline is safe for the forseeable future just like we can't trust the USDA to police its own slaughterhouses. Do you know what else was declared safe from the inside? Let's have a little walk through industrial disaster history. Just the hits, to keep it brief.

Chernobyl, USSR. In fact, the meltdown of the core reactor occurred during a safety drill.

Bhopal, India. Ask the people who woke up that day suffocating on insecticide how safe they felt, if you can find one.

More recently, Fukushima, Japan. Don't click that link if you want to sleep.

Don't forget the BP oil spills (with an s) or the now classic Exxon Valdez. Red tides of dead fish. Blackened ducks being scrubbed by desperate people with toothbrushes. How about the PG&E case of carcinogenic groundwater pollution (you know, Erin Brocovich) from a natural gas pipeline? How about Roman lead levels in the water of Flint, Michigan? How about the petro-sludge coming out of the tap and occasionally exploding in every single town near fracking operations? How long do we need to boil in this pot?

The history of oil actually began with snake oil, moving on to lamp light, and by a bit of a fluke, replacing early vehicles that ran on electricity and ethanol with those that ran on gasoline. Lands have been destroyed, cultures uprooted, and aquifers poisoned in the pursuit of black gold. These people care about making money, and that's it. They know damn well that there is not any part at all of the fossil fuel system that does not ruin what it touches, from procurement to production. It wasn't long ago the CEO of Nestle said clean water is not a human right, and as he happens to sell water, you have to wonder if he's secret-handshake pals with everyone who's destroying the national supply so casually.

My father was a computer programmer and I was raised knowing Murphy's Law. If it can screw up, it will, and in this case, screwing up means the utter ruin of the little land these people have been allowed to hang on to. The men ordering the digging of trenches and laying of pipe are calling "safe" but I'm not convinced, and neither are the Standing Rock Sioux. It's a hell of a gamble for them, but not so for the human oil slicks that bleed the Earth dry at the expensive of little things like life itself. There's always some other population to ignore in the pursuit of black gold if North Dakota doesn't pan out, which is why we're sending so many people into the thresher on the other side of the world.

But that's enough venom from me. This is Apocalypse Fatigue, not Angry Doom Boner. The point of my story is that yes, this is awful, but there's a glint of hope. I want you to look at some pictures from around the world.

Look first at these two sets of human eyes, and the beauty of the tension between resistance and control.

This is taken from Chile, where protestors honored the "disappeared" victims of the Pinochet regime. Her eyes say "We know what you did and what you'd do again". And bless her for making it plain. So should we all, in good time. The man hiding in that armor is really having a moment, too. I don't believe he thought this would happen when he signed up.

Did he jump at the chance to be a hero only to learn the hard way that it was only a dream inspired  by a nightmare? He might have a girl her age at home. He might be wondering what he's going to tell her about all this.

It reminds me of this picture from a few months ago in Baton Rouge:

Another young woman who's had enough. More scared men in ridiculous costumes, knowing in their quivering guts that they're on the wrong side of history.

From my little bubble of white-male privilege, I see hope in the defiance these pictures illustrate. If this is the overdue return of the Do-No-Harm-But-Take-No-Shit Divine Feminine of days past to her rightful place of power, let us all breathe a sigh of relief as the ten thousand year Dick vs Dick show of the Rabid Male Domination Con at last fades to black.

The defense of the people against the corporate death grip is overdue. It's happening at a pace so slow as to be agonizing, but it is happening. Nothing else can, really. We know how it ends, otherwise.

 

Never put your shovel down

I came to a realization today. I am not a truth seeker.

Let me clarify that. I'm seeking truth, just not The Truth, because frankly, I do not believe there is just one. I believe that settling on a static definition of reality prevents you from seeing new information. What I think I'll call myself now is a context collector.

I've always been interested in looking for deeper meanings in that cloudy water beneath the surface tension we call normal reality. The pursuit is high on my list of my favorite activities. I love the roller coaster ride of discovery and occasional astonishment, but I also enjoy the feeling of being wrong and choosing to consider a new approach. What I find over and over again is that the camps I can't join in good conscience have one thing in common:

They're sure they found it, and therefore they can be kind of gross to be around and hard to talk to. So I split.

It feels great to think you figured it all out. I've had those moments of smug certainty and they do make you feel pretty bulletproof at first. From that island of illusory security can spring arbitrary authority, pride, and the potential for conflict with those who do not agree.

Here's the danger: People who are sure will do things that will give pause to people who maintain a healthy hesitation.

I've declared myself an optimist before, which may seem not to play well with the tone of my website and the Apocalypse Fatigue "brand." Optimism is misunderstood. It is not the opposite of pessimism, which tends to be more absolute. To me, it means that in the long view, things are tending to get better even as they seem downright awful in the short term.

To put it another way: we're screwed if we just ride it out and trust leaders to fix it at the last minute, but there's hope for the big picture if we reclaim the reigns of personal responsibility and shape life around us with our choices. When I remind myself to do this, the effects are immediate and positive. My advice is not to take my word for it. Start with tiny things and be scientific.

I look to a better horizon, but I'm not staring into the sun with rose colored glasses on. I naturally get pulled into hoping for some part of the world to be some way, but rather than close the book there I allow myself room for doubt, investigation, and reevaluation. This, in my view, is a sane path, if not always a comfortable one. Cynicism and skepticism have been made into bad words, but all one has to do to take The Curse off them is research their original meaning.

The original Cynics were advocates of living simply and in greater harmony with nature than with society. They were critical of greed and other social norms they felt were causing pain, but that was only part of their message. Some were quite vocal and people are people, so feelings were hurt. Diogenes was infamous for telling Alexander the Great of all people to get out of his light. Our ancestors hung on to the part of cynicism that gave them the butt-hurt, and so now the word is taken to mean a certain jaded mistrust of human motives.

In much the same way, skepticism is regarded as doubt when the root word actually means inquiry. As Dr. Michael Shermer of Skeptic Magazine puts it, skepticism is a process, not a position. Skeptics do not appear to have a philosophy in common like the original Cynics. They simply seek to pause and get what facts can be had before picking a side, and may never land on a belief or denial at all.

That brings me back to my original point. Thirst for and pursuit of truth is a healthy part of any free life, especially given the clear fact that the propaganda mills have never worked harder to blast us all with the Verbal Hologram of consensus reality. Choice informed by inquiry and evidence is a far better means of navigating and shaping life than signing on to a belief system and letting it drive. I admire the chase, and salute all who run after gnosis, but I'm always a little annoyed when people declare their utter certainty.

Keep digging, my friends! May you find the gold you're after, but also the silver you never expected to find.

The cancer of the spirit

"The Earth is full of ghosts now," as Marc Almond sings in Coil's unreleased track "The Dark Age of Love," But how did this happen?

A little at a time, like every other iteration of The Fall. We will get into how, and what to do about it, at a later time. For now, a reminder of What Is All Around. Truth is often painful before it liberates, and it is worthwhile to be reminded of the silent suffering of our species.

Stage One: Amnesia

We start to lose our memory and the context it provides. We begin to lose identity and purpose. Neglect creates chaos and seeds vicious cycles that take root later. Amnesia robs us of perspective and we creep toward the next phase. First, we forget to act.

Stage TWO: Abulia

Then, we start to lose the will to act. Overwhelmed by the fruit of amnesia, we relinquish ever more of our power to shape reality through deeds. We take off our crown and put on a dunce cap. In this state we can be led by the sort of sociopaths that think themselves worthy of leading in the first place. Abulia is the ally of authoritarianism.

Stage Three: Apathy

Disheartened through abandon of self-control and cynicism toward the outer world, we lose enthusiasm, the juice of experience. We lose interest in participating in the web of life at all. We lose empathy for our fellow travelers, closing off from them. Apathy dries out the heart, and it opens the door for hate.

Stage Four: Anhedonia

We lose the capacity for pleasure. We rail against this for a while but the buttons aren't connected any more and there's no sense in pushing them. We go grey inside, and see the world bled dry of color. We try to drown it in the socially acceptable poisons. We fail.

These phases undulate and weave around each other, like all the cycles of life. Trauma accelerates, humor mitigates. But at a certain level, humor does not come when called. This is the moment when the lucky ones experience an intervention. Perhaps you need one at this moment. If so, let me remind you that you are not alone.

The world is indeed a stage, and we the players on it. The word "person" refers to masks worn on stage in ancient times, and each of us has a collection of disguises. I can remember reading the following poem in grade school. It struck me so deeply that I stole the page from the Language Arts textbook. I am not sorry.

We Wear the Mask

By Paul Laurence Dunbar


We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
       We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
       We wear the mask!

 

Stranger-yet-friend, may your masks fall away some day, that your light may be added in the effort against the shadows that bind and blind our minds.

Famine by Rick Munish

Famine by Rick Munish

 

 

Insanity, Normalized..

First they ridiculed protesters, then they surrounded protesters, now they're shooting protesters. Specifically, one, whose name I do not yet know, is said to be in critical condition as I write this. Facebook is taking down live feeds of the protests, again. Big news sites are concentrating on the police being "threatened" by the people they're actively hunting, or focusing on there being "only one" protester shot. Twitter is all over the place, but the general theme is what you'd expect: shoot a guy, make it his fault. What we've seen reported an average of twice a week this whole goddamned year.

I grew up in North Carolina, a place largely unmatched in either natural beauty or human stupidity. The moment I could, I left the South. I was saturated with disgust for the hypocritical religious mobs, rampant ignorance and institutional hate, only to find that the whole damn world whistles Dixie. What fetid piper plays this awful tune that makes the hollow hordes dance, and curse, and kill?

The cousin-groping morons who want to "make America great again" have no idea that it has yet to live up to its sales pitch. This land was taken from indigenous people by force, and then the New World was built on the backs of people who were stolen, enslaved, and demonized. Token rights were granted and targeted marketing emerged, but slavery never ended. It only shifted shapes. That deep, dark hate I tried to move away from never left the world either, it simply spread its tendrils underground like a demonic root network, waiting for the right moment to stop caring who could see it bearing fruit in the form of hate crime. Now it's getting worse. The police are getting hand me downs from the military. There are genuine efforts to fill their ranks with the least among us, and we are in a nightmare that we foolishly believed was over.

It's like every police department in America has joined a human sacrifice cult. The gods of fear demand a lot of innocent blood and they are eating well these days. It's exhausting. It's meant to be. We're meant to get so tired of it that we give up and let them have absolute power in exchange for a fictional peace. And it's beginning to work. You are so tired of it. So am I. It's all too much, and it always was. It's vital to remember that we're the lucky ones, you and I and damn near anyone who can read this. On our worst days we still float in a bubble within a bubble within a bubble of privilege. 

So give thanks if you barely have to touch the brakes at Border Patrol checkpoints. Give thanks if you can walk the street without being stalked and cornered. Give thanks if your last meeting with the police left you breathing at all. Hug your children like you'll never see them again. Kiss your lover like you just saw the bombs drop. Because that's how millions of people live now. We just don't know because the closest it gets to us is our social feeds.

Make no mistake: we in this bubble with our little problems are all so lucky. If you can protest without being executed, if you can walk through any neighborhood without being watched or followed, if you can walk home in a hooded sweatshirt and make it home alive, pick a lucky star and build a shrine because you are blessed indeed. 

And if you're reading this from outside that bubble, if I just described your life? I'm so sorry. I want to know what to do.  

And if you're waking up tomorrow and pinning on a badge and strapping on a gun? It's time to think about who and what you're really working for.  

This is the spot where a protestor was shot in Charlotte at close range by police. What I heard last was that this man was in critical condition. Witnesses reported the use of rubber bullets, which FYI, are not solid rubber. They have a metal core. …

This is the spot where a protestor was shot in Charlotte at close range by police. What I heard last was that this man was in critical condition. Witnesses reported the use of rubber bullets, which FYI, are not solid rubber. They have a metal core. They are meant to hurt, often injure, and at close range, they can kill.

 One point of view is presented below. I will leave you to make up your own mind, as always.

 

 

What would you do if you didn't have to do that?

You will note, based on my writings, that I am not a huge fan of The State. To clarify, I was a fan of the 90s sketch comedy show, but I am not a fan of the lumbering octopus with ten thousand mouths on every rabid/blind tentacle converting everything they touch into fuel for its machinations, batting most of us around like a kitten playing with a dead sparrow. Therefore it pains me a little to admit this, but I have to keep expressing gratitude so here we go:

I have benefited from "welfare" programs. When I was working my old job, my hours were always shaved just under the line where I'd qualify for benefits, so I took a second job. I gave myself a double hernia lifting audio equipment racks that should have had wheels. This was stupid, as toil for its own sake always is. I was trying too hard to appease a control freak with 6 personalities at a job that was never going to be worth the wage anyway, telling myself it was The Right Thing To Do (TM).

We do what we think we need to do. "It seemed like a good idea at the time" is the slogan of our species.

In any case, I had no insurance and had two new holes in my abs with gut sliding in and out at random, accompanied by deep discomfort and occasional stabbing pain. Not a party I'd invite anyone to. I will spare you the roller coaster process of getting state health insurance, which I had begun months prior. Through some fluke, I got approved right before the accident. I saw a surgeon who did a double take because hernias aren't supposed to come in stereo.

The good doctor set me up with a quick repair, and after a recuperative period, I was myself again. I've been under the knife more times than most, and I can say with confidence that this experience was the most painless, in every sense.

Not too much later, my company got outbid, and I got laid off. I was lucky. I got a settlement that came out to a magic number, which was amusing and satisfying. They didn't fight unemployment either, so I pulled that for a while, looking for work, being a home Dad, and writing most of my book while my wife graciously bore the burden by slogging away though extra hours trying to do good in a bad place. I marinated in stress, and was at times downright awful to live with. It was the fire under my ass that needed to happen to begin the alchemical process, but it was hard on all of us.

I am grateful daily that I had the chance to have what was, in the grand scheme, a pretty easy time compared to most. You and I won't hear the stories of the people who never made it out of the pit, or most of the stories of people who have. What we hear about are those who hijack the system, because that's better for ratings. Bogeymen always sell. Corporate media must always satisfy the will of its sponsors to exist, and at this moment, its main sponsors do quite well by screwing people over and shifting the blame onto others, who may or may not exist. Good luck pitching a story on how things get and stay this way to begin with. If you want that story, you'll have to dig it up yourself.

I had a tough time, a dark night of the soul among many, but that's the game of life, and I was greeted with sufficient mercy to make it much easier than it could have been. The State is myopic and often backward, but there are good folks (well underpaid themselves) but trying to throw ropes into the quicksand, bless 'em. Yet I wonder, is there a better way?

To get on the list for a little help when you need it, you wade through automatic phone trees, try to catch the letters in the mail and respond before they cancel your request, and take numbers in crowded rooms, hoping today's the day. Think of an Emergency Department waiting room, but on a vast scale. If and when you get a real live human being, it's a crap shoot. Some of these people seem so willing to help but are so often bound up in regulations and quotas. Some of them seem mechanical and completely detached, hollowed out by protocol and acting against the will of their hearts. Some of them seem so burnt out on people at large that they have become sadists, downright overjoyed to stamp your application "DENIED." I was able to float because I had a good support network. What of all the people with nothing but themselves to lean on?

After listening to the latest episode of one of my favorite podcasts, I am inclined to consider one possible answer: Universal Basic Income. I can hear the gnashing of teeth across America. There's deep conditioning at work turning this idea into knee-jerk reactions, because at the surface the idea can sound a like an expansion of already broken welfare programs. At this moment we can't do that much worse by doing what's expected, so as the late Saint Prince suggests, let's go crazy. Let's get nuts. Let's actually look at how this idea could manifest in reality beyond daydreams of freedom from within the artificial cage of the All-American Verbal Hologram.

Scott Santens, who moderates the Basic Income community on reddit, sums up the idea thus: "Welfare is paying people to do nothing, while basic income is paying people to do anything."

In the current system we supply bailouts for people who lost their jobs or can't work, but it creates a vicious circle. The longer you're on welfare, the harder it is to get a job. The social stigma of being out of work makes it awkward when you're filling out applications. The jobs you're likely to get with a history of welfare might not pay much more than the welfare did. It's quite similar to the predicament of a felon returning from prison. It's no wonder that some people hustle the system and turn to crime to grease the wheels. It doesn't make it better, but you can understand. Whether you're on welfare or trying to make it on what's left of Social Security, if you depend on a tiny fixed income, you'll live a tiny fixed life. By contrast, in a system of basic income people suddenly ticking all the boxes of their basic needs would be far more free to do whatever work they wanted to achieve their wants, creating income through service and moving towardthriving rather than surviving.

This idea seems too utopian or hard to pay for because we're all so used to and invested in struggle. It seems complicated because to make it happen a lot of details will have to be addressed, but like a lot of paradigm shifts, at its heart it is a simple idea: Find the the poverty level, and make sure no one is below it. Suggest this, and people will say there's no money for it. What they mean is they're afraid their taxes will go up to pay for it. To this I say, the majority of your taxes are already going to things you'd prefer not to support, and that's true regardless of your politics. The money is always there for people who know how to put it where they want it to be.

Things could be very different. No one would have to claw for tiny raises and less managers would screw over their teams for bonuses. No one would have to work unpaid overtime. No one would have to destroy their bodies in endless toil for less money than it takes to pay the bills. No one would have to beg on the street. Crime would begin to fade almost immediately. Most people would rely less on intoxicants. People struggling economically in the midst of abusive relationships could finally leave their tormentors, no longer having to rely on them to survive. Families bearing the brunt of hardship in more graceful ways would finally get the relief necessary to allow them to pursue more meaningful work and a life of less stress and greater security. Parents who'd rather raise their kids than work could be where they want to be instead of having to trust strangers who charge them extortion-level prices for daycare. The frustrations built in to the way we do things now would stop turning people into demons.  In short, a whole lot of bullshit could just go away, at last. We could breathe again.

Children could grow up in happier homes. Rather than spending their formative years learning coping mechanisms to survive, they could soak up the foundation of security and presence that would allow them to truly learn, love, and live. A generation or two of that is exactly what we need to get off the Death Grid, and it's quite possible that nothing short of that will do the trick. For those already grown, the physical and mental healthcare crisis would begin to ease itself because that background survival stress permeating everything would recede and allow minds and bodies to function outside of the fight-or-flight cage so many of us are spending our whole lives in. With a basic income, perhaps less young people would feel they had no choice but military service to pay for school or support their families, and those who did choose to serve would have a way to live in better conditions when they got back. With time to become informed, there would be less support for war at all, and in time, resistance to many other forms of corruption and hustle. There are so many more of us being governed than doing the governing. If we began to get the joke, we'd have the last laugh.

We might see, at last, the return of the engaged citizenry, active in making their local and state governments behave rather than taking out their rage on the candidates that bob and weave for the TV cameras. Better yet, we might cut loose the parts of government we didn't need anymore. People would have the time to volunteer their time to help others and everyone would be lifted up a bit at a time. People would have the chance to pursue their dreams, not in that Hallmark card way but in full. Everyone would have at least the option to become the person they were meant to be, and every community would be richer for it. Some people would still do nothing, but that's already happening. Some people would find ways to hustle, but those people don't know any other way to live. They might come around, in good time. We lose nothing but waste if we try a different approach.

These are but musings of the moment. You can consider this one of many thought experiments on this blog. I believe this will happen eventually with or without our support and have many positive and negative social effects we cannot yet predict. In this it joins other currents of the future: automation of labor (which may force a basic income anyway), the second coming of virtual reality as augmented reality, the eventual ubiquity of personal 3-D printing, the eventual end of vulture capitalism.

A peek behind the curtain

Hello in there.

It seems like a good time to tell you what's happening here. Maybe you've checked the "backstory" page, maybe not. I am being reminded of why I started this project, so I am telling you.

There are damn good reasons why "mental illness" is so common. We live in a world designed to suppress individual power and therefore the very world of each of us. That is not speculation. Rote-memory education, organized religion, mesmeric media, corporate medicine, vampire business and the forces of coercion all play their parts. Happy people create new experience and possibilities. Stressed people consume fantasies and objects to mask their pain. We live in a stress farm.

Control is a fractal fungus with spores all over and if we are not vigilant, we become its tentacles. From an early age, I rejected the grid of arbitrary authority and have always looked to question, subvert and overcome it in my life. It's a daily war, but to fight it is to win it.

I have seen the "throw pills at it" model for treating depression/anxiety fail in my own life and many others and it made me feel helpless until it pissed me off enough to act. I decided to develop a system for tackling this "apocalypse fatigue" from scratch, taking what has worked to take the edge off my own struggle with the above and synthesizing it into a sort of tactical magic.

Anyone can repeat the work of others, but I am not a salesman by trade. I can't recommend, much less insist, any course of self-repair that I haven't observed bearing fruit. If you want the Pollyanna positive thinking approach, there's a section in the bookstore for that. Real love is work, especially self love.

Therefore I am the test case for this system. I am learning how to build it in real time by trial and error, without pharmaceutical or therapeutic assistance. This may be a bit reckless, and I apologize to my loved ones along for the ride, but I believe it's imperative that people like myself who cannot afford or don't get what they need from drugs or counseling be given tools that anyone can use. So here I go.

I am writing a book on all this, on where we are now and how to find the way out, which you can read more about at "The Book" link in the menu. While that's happening, I am doing a few other things here as well because I am like a shark: I must swim or sink.

Also, a podcast called Beating a Pale Horse, in which the focus will be highlighting good works and new ideas. Beating the specter of death by expanding the palette of life, in other words.

Also, of course, the blog you are reading, where the focus is and will be: 

- Observations on what I call The Con/Death Grid of deception and unnecessary pain behind the scenes. Connecting the dots that show the secret shapes. You can't fight what you can't see.

- Suggestions for bringing and multiplying the light in order to balance out the shadows. Working from the inside out, as I am doing, because I feel that's our best shot at the tangible change that lies beyond cage rattling and mudslinging.

- Trying to find the humor in all this, because laughter is indeed the best medicine, like the tired old waiting room magazines say. As I like to say, in this world it's laughing or crying, and I'm so much more useful when I can do more of the former.

Also: music, which you can find at "The Soundtrack."

Also: stickers, the first of which are landing in mailboxes all over place to remind people of the fact that truth will out and to let strangers know this website exists. There will be more of this design and many more designs as well. In this hypnotic media landscape we can only to fight memes with memes.

I've been shy and private most of my life, and it's finally changing. It's a little daunting to unfold myself in public but this process of self-repair and sharing it with you is my True Will. I must do this or die trying, which means I will do this. 

Thank you for being here. Stay tuned.

You are here

This is an excerpt from the book One Grain of Sand, a work now in progress.

In a sense you’re everything, but where is the you beneath social roles? Who is the you that is there when no one else is there to influence it? Who is the you that dreams when the body is asleep? You can’t get that answer from anyone but you, and you’ll have to crack the crust and dive into the mantle before you find your core. How to start digging, you ask? Don’t fret. It’s a matter of achieving consistency, not complexity.

We have a tendency to make things too complicated. All you really need is silence, solitude, and sticktuitiveness. The spectrum of human imagination is huge. Depending on who you are the idea of sacred space may conjure up visions of anything from the cathedral to the charnel house, but there isn’t a right answer. You’ll know what you need when you find it or build it from scratch. The beauty of creating a “temporary autonomous zone” in your mind is that you can do so whenever and wherever you like. Will you do it in the rain? Will you do it on a train?

Just find a safe place to sit down at a time when you can concentrate. Get comfortable, and close your eyes. You may feel silly at first, because the simplicity of this approach seems absurd in a world where everything is portrayed as having to be complex and contrived. People spend decades and fortunes trying to achieve “enlightenment” because they can’t believe how simple it really is to change your perspective a little, which is enough to work from. We think we have to suffer to grow and so we get busy suffering as much as we can so we can “earn” self-love and inner growth. That’s us working for The Con.

I’ve got other meditations ready for you a bit later on, ranging from gradual empathy stretching to a visual/auditory exercise so complex you won’t be able to do anything else. For now, we have to break you in. Sit down, shut up, and get still. Really try to get past the habit of getting caught in the current of frenetic thoughts and feel your body. Concentrate on its weight, but try not to slouch. This is the hardest part for me. I’ll give you a tip I was given. Imagine your spine being straightened by an invisible cord that yanks you up when you bend too much. (There’s a theory floating around that Jacob’s Ladder to Heaven was a metaphor for an aligned set of vertebrae.) Give it a go. If you’re having trouble, take a moment and look at your hand, concentrating on feeling the life within it. Extend this until you can feel it anywhere you direct your attention. Now close your eyes and focus on the feeling of air going through your nostrils. If you can’t, switch to feeling your muscles moving that air in and out. Go back and forth as you need to.

Now here comes the part you can laugh at, but it works anyway. We’ll do a basic “you are here” visualization. Imagine a white hot ball of light in the center of your chest. Let it build in intensity, and then imagine that it is shooting a beam of light through the top of your head to an infinite height and extending down through your core to an infinite depth. Feel that column and straighten up so it’s not interrupted. Now do the same thing to the left and to the right, infinite in both directions. Finally, do the same from forward to back. You’re now squarely in the center of a triple axis, grounded.

This visualization will take all your concentration to maintain at first, so it wipes away all the gnats of stray thought while you sharpen your focus. Because you need to concentrate, it’s best to try this in private until it feels natural. Through practice you can do this anywhere, any time. In time you won’t need the security of the familiar. You can do this anywhere, alone or in a crowd, and no one needs to know. When you feel that grounding, just think or say “I am here.” Do nothing else for as long as you can. Keep doing it until you can feel it. Elevators are pretty good for this. Traffic jams. Checkout lines. Waiting rooms. Operating tables while you wait for the anesthesia to kick in. Bus stations. You’ll have your own list. Any time you can, keep saying or thinking “I am here.” When you don’t even have to consciously shift your attention, you’re well on your way. Eventually, you can drop “here,” and just repeat “I am.”

When we say “I am ____” and fill the blank with some role or quality we’ve associated with through habit, we define ourselves in ways that can also limit us. To say “I am” is to acknowledge the primal truth and identify with something impossible to define or limit: The Great Mystery of consciousness. “I am” is that feeling you have in the fleeting moments between waking from sleep and having your ego load your personality programs and call your attention to the day’s agenda. The goal of holding on to “I am” is not to keep your ego from doing this, because your responsibilities deserve the love of your attention. The goal is to be able at any time, in any place, in any situation to call yourself back to the center of the awareness that lies behind ego and in contact with the larger body consciousness itself, the hub of the wheel in which we all are spokes. When that conduit is open, whether you call it God or something else or nothing at all, you have access to your true power, and no circumstance can restrict you unless you allow it.

Now a point of clarification. It may seem from the language I use to describe identity that I’m against it. That would be absurd. Just as we trust clocks but know there is no time outside the mind, we need to use identity as a point of reference. I’m not condemning ego/identity outright or the shapes it takes, which we call personalities. This is just how it works for us. If we understand the clockwork, we avoid becoming slaves to it. I think it wise to consider the ways in which identifying too closely with the part of ourselves that is tied up in acquisition and defense can restrict the potential for well-rounded experience and minimal conflict while we’re visiting. In other words, as you seek peace, wouldn’t it be good to know how much you are in your own way?

Achievement, unlocked

This is an excerpt from One Grain of Sand, a book I am writing at this moment and hope to present to you in full quite soon.

We are nudged at every phase of life into roles we weren’t meant to play, and those who resist are treated as problems to be solved. You can see it for yourself if you read between the lines of the cultural narrative.  Most of us live like so many ants, toiling in endless cycles and seeing only splinters of that labor’s fruit as the rest is siphoned into distant chambers beyond our access. We will dig into the occulted realms of the Control Grid later, but it is the less important piece of the puzzle. Putting blame on some shadowy “Them” is not crazy, but it is lazy. There are such things afoot, but most of what happens in our lives happens because of our thoughts, words, and deeds. In the end, until we choose to operate beyond the spell of the hive mind, we are complicit in our suffering. We are the architects of our private little leper colonies. We make the bricks, and we build the walls. We can also wield the sledgehammers and light the fires.

 Once our minds are hijacked by stress cycles, the lining of our nerves wear away like rocks on the beach. In the eventual depression that follows, we can get in our own way in two big ways: checking out of reality and projecting delusion onto it. Either way, we’re navigating an inner reflection of the Hologram and deepening our tracks in the trench of habit instead of engaging with reality.  This is how vicious cycles develop; Stress wears out the hardware, and then the software glitches out and makes the hardware do strange things. We operate as if our distortions were the territory and not a broken map. If our actions are challenged by others, we may defend them regardless of what makes sense. All the while we get further and further away from where the juice and freedom of life is: direct honest experience.

 We’re living in an age of relative ease, at least for some, but there’s a catch. The brain is an amazing machine, but it developed in a very different world and biological progress happens at a glacial crawl compared to the cheetah sprint of technological development. There’s some bickering among archaeologists, but by current estimates we’ve been roughly the same physical beings for at least a hundred thousand years. Agriculture has only been around about ten thousand. We’ve only been industrialized a few hundred. We’ve only been online for twenty. We began to integrate technology into our bodies on a wide scale about a decade ago. It’s impossible to know where all this is going, but it’s getting there fast. Life is accelerating at a speed that just keeps ratcheting up, and this does not happen without effect.

 Human life spans are short, so we forget that things haven’t always been the way they are for us. We have to give ourselves a bit of a break when it’s all too much and we can’t keep up. Self-punishment is an easy trap to fall into, but it doesn’t solve any problems. In fact it just adds one more layer of stress. Under the strain of modern life, the brain goes into autopilot to  conserve energy and reduce the shock of sensory overload. People tend to stick to what once worked, even past the point or relevance. Some habits are pushed on us from outside through religious indoctrination and other forms of social control, and others we create to cope with what may well be future shock.

These self-generated traps are the ones that do the most damage. You’ll only take so much abuse from others, but there’s often no limit to what you’ll take from yourself. These habits become so familiar through repetition that they seem like extensions of our will, but most of the time they begin as coping mechanisms and mutate out of control. The habits we identify as “just how we do things” are not necessarily correct, just well-worn. Repeat a lie enough times and it will become accepted as if it were a long-standing truth.

For verification on that, you can ask almost any politician, but for now, just ask yourself. Look back and see if the way you’ve done things for years has its roots in a past trauma or obstacle that is now long gone. If so, you’re free to seek the help you need to heal, move on and try things differently. Otherwise you will live like a ghost, repeating the trauma and the role of victim forever. First responders deal with emergencies, deliver people into triage or shelter, and then move on. The fire truck leaves when the fire is out.

I’ll use myself as an example. Like you, and everyone, I contain contradictions. My particular flavor of anxiety is like a broken microscope. I tend to exhibit a spooky calm in a crisis, yet I have a tendency to fret about trivial issues, which seem enormous to me. This leads to procrastination, which compounds the problem by given the problems time to grow in until they approach their hallucinated proportions. By getting kicked around enough by stress to start fighting back against my own nonsense I have learned that the answer is simple. At the beginning stages of stress accumulation, step in and take care of what you can as close to immediately as possible. Oh, there’s a new cheat code to add to the ones we discussed earlier: T’COIN: Take Care of It Now. It’s better to spend the time in the present than to guarantee greater hassle for yourself in the future.

I can’t say what your experience is like, but I think it’s fair to assume that for people like you and I, there are days when doing our duty can be terribly exhausting. This is not an excuse for inaction, simply a truth to be aware of and worked around. Again, I can’t speak for you, but when I’m depressed, my body can require a lot of energy to get through a to-do list. It’s always worth it, but I understand the struggle and I’d like to help you get past the looping thoughts and subsequent behaviors that can keep us all small and sad, but only if we give them permission.

I’m betting you can relate to an experience that I have had many times. Let’s say you’re home for the day and you’re feeling zombified. Between chores or phone calls or episodes of something questionable on Netflix, you lumber into the kitchen, muttering and dazed with hunger. To the outside observer, you are one of the walking dead. Your mind holds one thought: “Snaaaaaaaaacks!” Your shambling gait is stopped cold when your eyes meet an uncomfortable truth. The sink is still full from the last time you had a proper meal because you were too tired or forlorn to deal with them at the time.

 Bad zombie. No snack for you.

 This is not everyone’s experience. Who you are and how you’re feeling determine how you respond to this situation. This is another example of how your perception and bias create your reality. If you can see clearly, what you’re looking at is a brief period of scrubbing and putting away. If you’re in the grip of the Curse, you see an Herculean ordeal. The dishes seem endless, towering over the sink, marinating in bilge water and attracting flies. They become symbolic of your entire life and the echo chamber switches on until you feel completely overwhelmed by something that only requires a little of your attention. You can’t muster the juice to dive in, and feeling defeated, you stumble toward the pantry looking for comfort food.

 A lot of people don’t have this problem. They just do the dishes when they’re done and the problem goes away. This kind of obstacle makes no sense at all to them. The good news is you can become one of those people even with years of inertia in the way.  There was a time when I would leave the dishes long enough to invite frogs to lay eggs. Now I know something’s wrong if I take more than an hour to deal with it. Stage magicians refer to this kind of thing as a “tell,” and they know how a trick works by noticing them. By watching myself, I notice the tricks of my mind as they manifest in my behavior. With focus,  I can then make an informed choice and modify my actions to steer away from the dead-end repetition of the past.

 Here is the truth, as annoying as it may be: things do get easier through practice, and only through practice. The opposite of habit is novelty, which breaks you out of stagnation. When you introduce a new activity, it may be exciting or frightening depending on your temperament. The first time you do anything is mysterious, perhaps downright awkward. There is such a thing as beginner’s luck, but that tends to land on those who were already invested in success. Hesitation is understandable in those first few steps of a thousand mile journey, but you soon find that one foot fits in front of the other just fine.

 The tired old jingle of your dying bad habit is soon displaced by the rhythm of a new practice, which itself becomes habit in time. The difference between good and bad habits comes not from morality but from experience. The habits that serve you will charge your batteries and create momentum and opportunity. Those you slog through out of obligation or self-punishment will drain you like a starving mosquito. There is a period of resistance and frustration that lasts until you’ve logged enough practice to gain traction. Like the first shoots in a germinating seed, you’ve got to push through.  Give a new habit at least 72 hours. Three days in a row, and then 3 weeks. Eventually you’ll stop counting and it will just be who you are now.