Celebrating personal discordia and spiritual anarchy.

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"Anarchy is not intended to be sustainable. It is not a system of government, a codified list of rules and beliefs, or a mind set geared toward cultural constructivism. It is a spark, a flash, a small flame that ignites a paradigm-obliterating explosion. It is destructive by nature. It lies dormant and, like diesel fuel, can only be ignited by tremendous pressure. It deconstructs. It strips flesh from bone and grinds bone to dust. It is doomed to consumption in the conflagration instigated by its own primal spark. It is a catalyst. It is tinder. It is powder and fuse."

Rich Oliver

The Power of Diconnecting

I am letting go now. I am being still and trusting in the justice of the creator. Everything will work according to the higher good.

And so it is...

Social Concretia

Knock knock.
Who's There?
Whydoo who?
Whydoo I post ebombs and vent out loud, naked, and in writing when I should patch my pie hole with several linear yards of tact, spin my thinkerbox, write it out in word, actually review it, highlight, click and obliterate any and all posts before unleashing them on no one in particular? Why? WHY? WHHHYYYYY?

OK, on a totally unrelated note, when you hear a loud pop just behind your right ear and start to smell bacon, that's probably not a really good thing, right?


I had a horrible epiphany today. I am still disturbed by it. I have no idea why it carried such energy for me. I don’t generally believe in evil, but I may have stumbled upon it inadvertently. Very unnerving. Dark disturbing things are being dredged up. I am in utter despair. I am lost inside of my own thoughts. I am tortured. I am unable to shake it. WTF?

I pass and glance habitually,
In the corner, a figure tattoos itself on my retina
I watch it there horrified, grey and squirming
Writing naked and shining

Glossy in its own juices. Shiny like a black beetle emerging from a corpse.
More insect than man, barely discernable amidst the filth.
“Love me” it cries “Need me”
The sound of death, sticky and shrill, tortured and gleeful. Entitled and threatening.

Greasy head on nervous lap
Curled and crippled.
Cold clammy hands searching for others to wring the warmth from.

It lies contorted in orgasmic shudders, grasping at breast and arm, clawing at the empty putrid air made even fouler by its cries.
All the while gurgling and mumbling softly through a mucus filled purr.
Ceaselessly seeking suckle and warm embrace.
“Don’t leave me. Take care of me…”

Dark eyes glaring angrily, boring holes
Through any and all perceived competition
For mothers attention.
“Hold me” it pleads “Comfort me”.

Its mother shivers in disgust and comforts it with
Her unsteady, strained voice
Barely suppressing the urge to crush it
To end its slithering life
And bury it in the dirt somewhere far from her clawed bosom, far from all life as not to
Pollute the fertile ground with its seeping filth.

She sits broken and resigned to fate, unable to carry out her thoughts,
Unable to escape the horror draped over her own body. She created it; she must sustain its life. She must suffer. She must suffer. She is not worthy of
Freedom or

It shifts and our eyes meet. It hisses at me and postures aggressively. Then relaxes and Smiles.

I realize
With utter revulsion
My own soul reflected there.
In the mirror.
And I despair.


What if the destination, the nexus, the destiny of an individual path lies ahead and is, fundamentally, unalterable regardless of choice or action? What does that mean? What are the implications of a predetermined outcome? What of choice? I suppose behaving badly or refusing to allow events to coalesce through intentional poking of the emerging form may, to a degree, alter certain aspects of the outcome...but it appears to have little effect on the energetic structure, the basic quantum form of the events culmination. We can change how it looks, but we cannot change the actualization of the energetic process. Shockingly enough, source does not appear to discriminate between physical manifestations of emerging energetic form. It looks, to me, a lot like poking a finger into a basin of water. The water returns to the vacuum left by the withdrawn digit, but is not in exact molecular configuration it assumed prior to the event. To the naked eye it appears the same. The essence is restored and is made manifest through a realignment of elemental structure, altered as it may be, but the form appears unchanged.

I would argue that a Gods eye view of our particular fractal may be of a process only observable in terms of energetic vibration and frequency, that the actual physical manifestation of form is observable only to those living within this specific wavelength. It is, therefore irrelevant in a pure cosmic sense. If this is feasible, it suggests a total absence of externally determined morality and order. Victim and perpetrator share the same spectrum of energy, if not the identical signature. My head hurts.

Atonement and Self Destruction

The human soul is not predisposed to guilt. It is not predisposed to anguish and fear related to existential pressures. These are learned responses, a result of suppressed instincts and inherent spiritual connection to the creator. We are taught to fear punishment as a way of controlling our behavior and belief, of ensuring our adherence to prescribed law and dogmatic form. We are raised as slaves. "Be ye as children" rings heavy and visceral, not as a mantra for foolish trust in a power wielding superstructure but as a guide for living and breathing in this hologram. It allows an avenue of escape, a path of wonder and gentle disenfranchisement from the world of control and entrenched dogmatic vomitus. We are free. We are children. We are incapable of acting contrary to the will and design of the creator because every possible action and behavior conceivable by man is allowed to exist through the creator. There are no taboos. There are no boundaries.

This is a game. Just a game.

It effects us only when we allow it to become real to us in our own minds. We are the source of our own discontent. We create our own guilt, pain, regret...maybe we feel we have really fucked things up, or are somehow responsible for inflicting anguish on those around us. Maybe we have done some things we are no proud of. That may be the case, but everything we have done was within the framework set in motion by the creator and is, by its very design, in perfect, succinct orbit with the will and intention of God. We are biological pulse engines. We are fractal cells in a higher organism. Does a germ feel remorse for acting within the parameters of its creation? Do meteorites feel guilt when they annihilate life and pollute upon impact? What of volcanoes, storms, sun spots...? Do each, in turn, feel the result of their actions with a degree of guilt and uncertainty or are they content to move within the scope of their creation? We, as pulse engines, are meant to illicit responses in one another. We are meant to project, observe and report back any and all interactions and subsequent reactions so that source may increase in understanding and intelligence. We do what we do because we are created that way. We do what we do because we are incapable of moving beyond the parameters of our prescribed programming. God wrote the program, who are we to question it?

The idea of punishment for perceived transgression is a learned response triggered by a system of thought and belief meant to control behavior. It is not part of the original code, but a subset of subsequent commands written in to the program by entities living within it.It is an illusion within the illusion and has no real basis for adherence. Once the mind grasp the concept and observes the illusory nature of the entire construct, the sheer absurdity of the sub programming becomes humorously clear, and Ganesh laughs. There is no control. There is no choice within the construct. Step out. Get a birds eye view. Only then can you reenter and truly become the master of your destiny. Plus its a lot more fun to deal with people when you see them as 2D projections and fuzzy data.

Benjamin's Religion of Destruction

Capitalism is probably the first instance of a cult that creates guilt, not atonement...The nature of the religious movement which is capitalism entails the endurance right to the end, to the point where God, too, finally takes on the entire burden of guilt, to the point where the universe has been taken over by that despair which is actually its secret hope. Capitalism is without precedent, in that it is a religion that offers not the reform of existence but its complete destruction. It is the expansion of despair, until despair becomes the religious state of the world in the hope that this will lead to salvation." Walter Benjamin

When we pray for abundance, our financial world begins to disintegrate. Abundance is not compatible with the monetary system which is, at its fundamental core, based on a philosophy of scarcity and transient worth. Reaching for and attaining a true state of abundance will require of every soul the complete renunciation of the current, or argue ably any, fear based token monetary system.

Let's set this fucker off.

The Trap of Over Intellectualization

A well developed, personal connection to Source is essential for day to day navigation through the minefield of contemporary existence. In its absence, the higher chakras can be over stimulated and we may find ourselves without the direction we require. Intellectual navigation relies on expressed information as guidepost for decision making. Expressed information is extremely subjective, even deliberately misleading and corrupt. What do you believe? Whom do you trust? Excessive reliance on cerebral processes will leave us confused and unsure of the path. Navigation must be done through the lower chakras, through a connection with the sensate, intuitive energies that bind us to the cosmos. A gut feeling. Instinct. Ideally, all of our power centers must be functioning a optimal levels in order for us to feel our way through the maze. We should “see” the information with our intellect, “weigh” the variables for truth, “process” the course of action and its relationship to our true, internal orientation and “decide” the most logical course of action to carry it out. We are endowed with sentience and instinct. Our temporal navigation must include balanced amounts of both. We are beings of light encased in suits of flesh, bone and hair. We are angels in monkey suits.

Archetypal Onions

Forget incremental peeling away of psychic and emotional layers. Forget gentle, nourishing counseling sessions. Chop the onion in two. Drive the cleaver into the block. Get to the root now. Lance the boil and drain the sore. Some things require it, or they fester and pollute the entire organism. Maybe that’s what the Christ means by amputating or plucking out the offending member. Better the fractal part than the organic whole.
I offer thanks to Wakan Tanka, The Great Spirit and for the willing embrace and much needed service of Jorge and the Lakota traditions. Thank you for sitting with the pipe. Thank you for keeping essential ceremonies alive and open to seekers and those in need of healing.
The onion is cleaved. The issues and intentions are coalescing. I can hear the cosmic laugh again and there is peace in my heart. And So It Is....

Resignation as Repose

Chaos reigns in the homestead these days. I'm done for I think. Just when things were beginning to look so promising...I am completely exhausted. I am stressed to my limit. I suppose now would be a good time to practice what I preach and sink back into the stream, maybe I should trust that all of this is actually taking me somewhere and just allow it to happen. That appears to be the natural default, as I am experiencing it. I enjoyed a pretty good stretch of peace. Much needed. I allowed myself to dream a little. That too was needed. Plans were formulated, ideas were formed and dreams were allowed to play out in my mind in hopes of finding their way into physical manifestation. That was a nice thing. Very nice. Time to thank the fates for a brief respite and turn, once more, toward more achievable goals, like putting food in mouths and paying to keep the heat on. I'm cautiously optimistic about the future. Just a bit less excited. I will miss the dreams...

Zen For Now

I am in a strange place right now. Torn between internal wishes and external circumstance. I am still. Not paralyzed, but perfectly still inside. I am calm. I am assured that the outcome of this present path is exactly what it is supposed to be. I am where I am supposed to be, doing exactly the right things at the precise time and place. All is as it should be. I release all attachment to outcome and step into the void. Let everything unfold according to the highest good. It is out of my hands now. I will accept it as it comes without judgment and without expectation.

I'm trusting you God. Please don't punk me.

PS: I release all attachment to the possibility that being punked by God is a very real probability. I still expect, without really expecting, that my happiness figures in the equation somewhere, even if punking is a nasty, but necessary, prerequisite.

You're totally gonna punk me, aren't you...

I'm just sayin... if this is one of those tease-the-cat-with-the-laser-in-order-to-lure-him-into-the-car-for-a-neutering-at-the-vet type of things...

Existential Crisis

I am bald. I have copious amounts of nose and ear hair. What's the meaning of this?

I am in limbo. This limbo is made from my own indecision and ultra dogmatic, super rigid concept of honor and integrity. I feel simultaneously obligated and disgusted by my own intrinsic drives. Interesting. Horrifying. Like viscera leaking from a wrecked car...is that a hand?

Confessions of an Insomniac

It seems a bit of a pickle. Inaction has stalled karmic progression. Had I known that the eventual success of certain fated associations were predicated upon the exercise of swift, decisive action, I would have taken it already...and would be able to pursue, unencumbered, without the ponderous Taurean predilection toward mired down resolve and rationalization. I didn't know.I really didn't. Maybe that's the git. Maybe that's the lesson...that inaction and indecision, regardless of the intention, lead to stagnation. That is, like, the shittiest lesson ever. I am really hoping for a do over here. I think I may have missed the window. A window? Who knew? I am baffled. I am grumpy. I am hosting a small pity party.

Conundrum of Synchronicity and Implied Destiny

If events are linked, inexorably, by apparently chance coincidence and, taken together, appear to lead toward a predetermined climax along the continuum, then they are, by definition, no longer coincidental but represent a logically calculated and seemingly preconceived pattern of linear progression in a programmed equation. This would render the coincidental calculated and the synchronous succinct. If not, we are demi-fools wandering the unfathomable cosmos desperately collecting random flotsam and assigning definitions according to subjective observation of imagined correlations.

Why do we search for meaning? We might all be fucking nuts.

Sometimes the prophesied path that leads to a goal finds the goal to be hint or clue for the next piece of the puzzle...often stirring an insight and leading to even greater insight and understanding. Sometimes it baffles us. Sometimes it causes discomfort or shatters the ego.

See, the problem is this...if we planned this life before we came here and surrendered our choice after the initial planning in order to experience this life as a series of related coincidence, then we basically bent ourselves over the cosmic sofa in order to learn our own planned lessons. That makes us sadistic bastards. Or retarded. One would think it unnecessary to lobotomize oneself in order to study the phenomenon of lobotomy...wouldn't one? WTF? Or, heaven forbid, we actually have the ability to choose and our course of action is not predetermined, does that suggest that we have, essentially, designed a vacation into the wild, burned the map, scooped out our own brains, super activated our gonads and plopped ourselves down in alien territory with absolutly no guarantee of a safe return. That's pretty fucked up. Must have been passing the herb at the contract signing meeting.

Ok,ok as long as were looking at cosmic tom foolery...If the cards predict a gift as a destination or nexus for a prescribed path (for the sake of shits and giggles, let's say a pony) and we find, upon reaching the nexus that the gift is in fact a pretty box containing another path suggestion or insight (let's say a large turd), were we, as the architects of our own destiny, horrible and altogether ill tempered in our planning? No one wants a turd. Everyone wants a pretty box. What if all the boxes are really covering turds...is that why the cards predict pretty boxes instead of turds? I don't want a turd. Good thing that next one is a pretty box. Maybe it's a pony...