I was one of them, back when I thought I knew the score. I thought I was owed something. Attention mostly. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t. I was reacting. Running on some entitlement energy, raw resentments. I thought it was punk. I could disagree with anyone. And I did. All the time. I disagreed with people who agreed with me. What do they know anyway?
The world seemed to be a seething cauldron of disagreement. I reveled in it. Even as I decried its effect on things. Why can’t we all just get along? Because guys like me will find a way to upset the apple basket. Soon I tired of the reactionary responses to everything, even though I’m essentially suspicious of people’s motives. I always think someone is trying to sell me something.
Transactional life. It’s how cooperation turned into a marketplace. Ideas are a marketplace. You are no longer a citizen. You are either selling, or buying. But soon, you will be renting. You will own nothing. And love it. Ideas, pop songs, laws: all transactional. How much freedom can you buy? How much space can you rent?
Everything has a price. That is seen as good and true with a certain mindset. I want to give freely, of the things that matter. To keep my own counsel, to radiate positivity, not fear. I’ve always been afraid of other people’s intentions. Well , not always. Up until 4th grade I was wide open.
Although I was learning that things were not what they seemed. And I was having trouble concentrating. We didn’t have things like ADHD, or spectrum behavior back then. JK, we had things like “talks too much,” “does not apply himself,” “disrupts classroom.” “Daydreams.” I only liked to read what I wanted to read. I was a weird kid, not exactly disobedient, but not really compliant. I’m not boasting about this. It caused problems for me as I navigated the school system. I never understood the assignment. I could have been training myself to fly under the radar, to master the art of aggressive compliance. I didn’t really know how to go to school. I thought it meant something. I was wrong.
It ain't about how right or wrong you live, but how long you live
I ain't with the bullshit -Oshea Jackson Sr. AKA Ice Cube
The Cube also pointed out that school was a production line, producing a product that was made for the prison system. Or, a factory. Or, a factory in a prison. That’s the new frontier. Prison labor. Gotta do something with all the useless eaters who aren’t providing shareholder value. This is a cold world.
“No matter how well someone dies, someone else will be glad they're gone. Even a virtuous and wise person will have detractors who secretly rejoice at their death. Reflect on this when you die. Even those you cared for might be relieved by your passing, hoping for a happier life without you. Accept this and continue to be kind and loving towards them. Nature joins and then parts us; be ready to part as if from friends and family, without reluctance or compulsion. This too is natural.”
Meditations: Book 10-36 Modern English Edition Marcus Aurelius
I lived in places that I spent a lot of time on my own.Not by choice. Occasionally, friends came over, but we lived quite a ways from other people, and the people we did live near were not my age, or not around the neighborhood for very long if they were. I didn’t get a lot of practice hanging around with people away from school. I was a wanderer. Even at an early age. I would talk to anyone, which both amazed and puzzled my family.
I would like to know where that guy went. What happened to him? He got sour somehow. Saw too many things, met too many people. The more people you meet, the more chances you have of having detractors. And if you live out loud, you will attract them like flies on sherbet.
Bowie sang “I’m afraid of Americans,” and he had a point. He really summed it up nicely. The world is now reacting to the US American ID with revulsion, and in retort there is a doubling down. In the land of the free because of the brave, some people believe that freedom means being as big an asshole as one can. Rollin’ Coal. Being loud. Being terrified and making sure everyone is as scared as you, scarred as you. We been carrying around our big boom sticks, but have dispensed with speaking softly. Gunboat diplomacy has been replaced with drone wars. We are segregated from the world, wheeling around in our two ton cocoon, oblivious to the tires we dissolve into the water tables, the effluence belched into the air as if it’s our sewer. An aerial sewer. And, don’t get me started on your clean ass electric. That resource is generated somewhere, not to mention the rare metals that construct these rolling cell phones.
Or the amount of water that cools the server farms that are used to power MECHA-HITLER. Or, ZUCKBOOK. Just to ask a glorified search engine large language program shit like “DOES TONY DIE AT THE END OF THE SOPRANOS?” I mean, I have my theories. And, I can hallucinate like any techoligarch. I just can’t talk a private equity firm to give me a BILLION DOLLARS. I would waste at least half of it. Ok, I would waste ALL of it. You know what’s cooler than a billion dollars? The living Earth. Everything else is a hallucination.
People don’t need to comment online, they need to talk to their neighbor. I mean, really talk, and really listen, and not denigrate their neighbors choices. You can learn so much getting to know a person. And not want anything. And perhaps, give something back to your neighborhood.
The seeds of God, 'tis true, are few, but vast and fair, and good - virtue and self-control, devotion. Devotion is God-gnosis; and he who knoweth God, being filled with all good things, thinks godly thoughts and not thoughts like the many [think].For this cause they who Gnostic are, please not the many, nor the many them. They are thought mad and laughted at; they're hated and despised, and sometimes even put to death.
-The Corpus Hermeticum By John Michael Greer-
The Detractors live online, not just yours, but everyones. That is their occupation. To detract. To minimize. To fill in the void inside themselves. I know the feeling, that gnawing emptiness that is a combination of anger and hopelessness, and the distinct feeling that life has no meaning. So why not take the people who have so much, when you have so little, down a peg. Even though they will never see your insult, or know you exist. It doesn’t matter, you’ve shot your wad. Then the inevitable letdown. You have to lash out, again and again. Raising the ante, thinking of worse and worse things to write. And it’s ok, you’ve are a nobody, you don’t even care. You’ve thumbed out an insult, time to ratchet up next time.
Imagine. They could be sitting outside, listening to the wind, or the owls at night, or the hummingbirds chirping and chattering. There is real life and death going on all around you. It’s not revolving around you, but you are part of it. In the name of progress you deny that you are a part of the world, somehow humans have convinced themselves that they are impartial and objective observers of the world, while they bulldoze, and rip off the skin of the living earth, just so we can use a bunch of dirt to make an iPhone.
I wonder what Mam Gaia would say if she had a Reddit account? Probably not printable.
Go outside.
We must abandon arrogance and stand in awe. We must recover the sense of the majesty of creation, and the ability to be worshipful in its presence. For I do not doubt that it is only on the condition of humility and reverence before the world that our species will be able to remain in it.
-Wendell Berry- A Native Hill 1968
Walk in reverence. It’s really amazing that we are here. I’m not going to apologize for that. I’m glad to be here. I know what I am, and your opinion does not affect that. I am happy to be on the sidelines. It doesn’t matter to me when I reach the stoplight. We will all end up at the same end. It’s not a race. I’m not in a hurry. I’m not sorry that my pace detracts from your life. Maybe you should figure out why. I can’t help you there. You are going to be fine. Source: TRUST ME, BRO!