Rape Culture: Female Chauvanism In Action

This is a response to an essay called "A letter to the guy who harassed me outside the bar".  The link to that article is listed at the end of my essay, but I don't think reading it is vital to understanding the points I hope to make. 

I simply cannot stand rape culture theory, for one specific reason: It is guilty of all the legitimately reprehensible behaviors it claims to denounce. 

Like men who harass and intimidate women, women who espouse rape culture rhetoric do so in an attempt to dominate, subjugate and control the opposite sex.

This essay claims to address a man who harassed the author outside a bar, however this is clearly not true.  The author acknowledges this in a concluding sentence that's littered with unnecessary commas: "So, to you, the man on the sidewalk [outside the bar], I’m quite sure you will never read this essay."

Then why are you writing it, and who is your audience?  Though at first glance these questions may seem somewhat trivial, they warrant some serious consideration.

Rape culture theory tells us that when a man harasses a woman, it makes her fear that she may be assaulted.  Many fears pass through a woman's mind in a situation like this - fear of being assaulted, fear of being labeled a whore or a slut, whether by herself or by society at large...  Genuine terror and a multitude of other emotions can spontaneously erupt in a split second, this much is certainly true.

But let's try the shoe on the other foot.  Similar to a man who harasses women, this essay makes men feel they must act a certain way around women.  How might an assertion like that make an individual man feel?  Certainly, some men wouldn't give it much thought.  But like a rape victim who internalizes her assault (why did this happen to me? what did I do to deserve this?) some men may worry:

Am I threatening to women?  What is it about me that makes me threatening?  I didn't know I was a source of fear for other people.  Am I making half the population fear for their safety?!?  What's wrong with me?!  How do I know if I am even guilty of this?  I think of myself as friendly and approachable; I don't want to be a source of worry and fear for other people! 

You can see how this thought process may easily snowball into a chain reaction of worry and self-reproach, much like the target of unwanted harassment or sexual advances might question herself and what she did to make herself the target of such abuse.  And rape culture theory is right there, waiting to allay these mens' apprehension with specific instructions on just how to act so as not to be a source of fear for women.

Rape culture doesn't consider how its assertions may make men feel because in rape culture theory, men are not people.  They are only relevant and worth discussing in terms of how they relate to women: Is this man conscientious towards women?  How does he make them feel? 

Everything is secondary to how women feel, and how a man feels about being told how to behave just doesn't come up. 

Behind a veil of addressing the man outside the bar, the author writes to all men as if they were that terrible man.  She lumps all men into the same boat.  Because to her, what's the difference?  Men exist to her as either threats or non-threats, but rarely as people.  And it's easy to ignore the feelings of a potential threat.

She is entitled to dismiss my feelings.  This is not sarcasm or insincere rhetoric, but merely a statement of fact: She is under no obligation to look out for my feelings or well-being.  But by the same token, neither am I obligated in any way to her, and that is exactly my point:

It is not anyone's responsibility to make sure that anyone else feels any certain way.  Period.

If you feel threatened, do something about it.  Fight fire with fire and beat him at his own game.  Make his interaction with you so incredibly unpleasant that he shudders any time he thinks of you for the rest of his life.

Rape culture tells you that you don't have control over that situation, but you do.  Be empowered.  Make him the victim.  And if you can't, move to a safer neighborhood, buy pepper spray, get into therapy, or take a self-defense class.  Do what you gotta do to address the issue.

Fight your own fucking battles and stop telling half the population to act a certain way so that you may feel safe, if for no other reason than this:

Harassment and rape don't really have much to do with each other.  Even if we're all super polite and respectful towards women, rape won't magically cease to exist.  Society will just look like we went back in time several hundred years, with rigid rules of acceptable social interaction and decorum around women.

Feeling safe and secure - and indeed, feeling any certain way, comes from within. The responsibility to manage these feelings lies with the individual experiencing them, not the rest of the world. 

It's your responsibility.  Own your shit.

The original essay: http://www.rolereboot.org/culture-and-politics/details/2012-12-a-letter-to-the-guy-who-harrassed-me-outside-the-bar

Walking a Mile in Someone Else's Shoes

This is a response to a tumblr post by UnWinona, entitled "I debated whether or not to share this story".

As she says in her closing remarks, UnWinona wants men “to be forced to feel, for even one minute, what it feels like to have so much verbal hatred and physical intimidation thrown at them for nothing more than being female and not wanting to share.“

Well UnWinona, in the spirit of putting oneself in someone else’s shoes:

I want you to appreciate that other people experience difficult, painful situations too, even men. 

I want you to know what it feels like to be expected to defend your country with your life, should it come to that, simply because you’re a man. 

I want you to recognize that a man who harasses you on the train might well be a veteran who was drafted and forced to murder, a duty from which you are exempt as a woman.  I want you to develop some appreciation for the men who suffer for the rest of their lives because of what they were required to do as men. 

You seem to think that men should walk a mile in your shoes.  I encourage you to take your own advice and put yourself in someone else’s shoes.  You might be surprised how your perspective changes.  You might find that being the attractive woman who gets harassed on the train isn’t so bad in the grand scheme of things.

Then again, you might not.  I have no idea.  And my point is not to say that your life isn’t really so hard, because I don’t know anything about you or what your life is like.  I am only trying to convey that everyone has their difficulties.  Everyone faces hardships and truly trying situations, and I genuinely believe that you might be happier in the end if you garnered more of an appreciation for that fact.

Mindreader

PART ONE

I'm a young boy in a nice backyard with a soft, green lawn. There are dogs running around, and puppies. There must have been a new litter recently. It's a beautiful day. A man says “Look -” and shoots one of the puppies. It collapses and dies. He says, “Feel how soft the fur is, but now it's all bloody”. I rub the soft fur and my hand comes back red. It seems like the man is trying to teach me something, but I have no idea what it could be. I try to hide my horror because I figure I must be missing the point and I must not be smart enough to figure it out.

PART TWO

I'm driving north up 75 through Dallas late at night, after having some drinks. I'm feeling a little swervy, and I notice a cluster of police cars in front of me when I get up the ramp and merge onto the highway. I try to drive slowly to put some distance between us, but they keep going slower and slower. I feel very aware that I'm swerving a bit, and the swerving is only made worse by my anxiety.

This scene transforms into me walking down the hallway of a hospital, behind a group of nurses in training. They're wandering around aimlessly, stopping and starting in a swarming chaotic mess. I feel the need to get past them, like I'm in a hurry, though I don't know why. I keep trying to, only to get stuck behind a cluster of them that stops for no apparent reason and blocks my way. I still don't know why I need to get past them, but that need keeps feeling increasingly urgent. I break through and make my way through a labyrinth of hallways and finally find a nurse, who I ask “Where the hell is the reception desk?” and she points me in the right direction.

PART THREE

I'm out in the country in a beautiful, tranquil wooded area. There are soft padded benches under the trees. My mom, sister, and grandmom are sitting on one and I'm sitting on another, facing them. There's also another person I can't identify sitting with them. This place feels like some kind of rehab or psych hospital getaway. I become aware that the reason we're there is that there's something wrong with my mom, but I don't know what. She's sitting there with an empty, expressionless look on her face, and my grandmom is saying “Give her a Xanax. She'll feel better.” I say, “She's not anxious. She doesn't need Xanax”.

Suddenly my mom jumps up and gets in the driver side seat of my truck. I'm stricken with panic, and I jump into the passenger seat. She puts the truck in reverse and starts winding around the wooded field, not looking where she's going. She has a crazed look on her face and is mashing on the gas.  She's yanking on the wheel and swerving violently, going backwards but still looking forward. I alternate between trying to keep us from plowing into a tree and trying to figure out what's going on, and I yank up on the parking brake.

My truck suddenly transforms into a school bus, big and creaky, and we're still just flying. I don't know how we haven't hit a tree yet. I finally get the brake pulled hard enough that the bus stops. I reach over and grab for the keys, but my fingers won't cooperate. My mom doesn't really fight me, but it takes me awhile to get the keys out of the ignition. I finally do, but then have even more difficulty getting the keys into my pocket. I keep thinking, “just get the keys in your pocket and then you can go around to get her out and try to find out what the hell is going on”.

Then I wake up.

Holly wakes up too, and I tell her about the third part of my dream, because that's the only part I remember. I'm crying. When I get to the end, I remember the second part, and tell her that part of the story. It's not until the end of the second part that I remember the first part and finish the story in reverse.

The man in the third part who I can't identify, it's not that I don't recognize him. It's that I can't see him. I almost didn't notice he was there. He's a ghost. He's just the silhouette of a man, filled in solid gray. I realize he's the same man from the first part, who shoots the dog. He's my granddad. We were in his backyard on North Park. I should have known. The immaculate lawn was a dead giveaway.

The Source of a Warrior's Power

I like knives.  It's hard to feel complete without a good, sharp knife
in my pocket.

Though it's arguably a less practical matter for my generation than it
was for my father's or grandfather's, carrying a knife is a symbol.
It's a reminder that we're capable of reshaping the world with our
bare hands.  It's a reminder of the importance of keeping ready
certain skills and tools.  It's a reminder to remain vigilant.

The vigilant man is prepared for the unforeseen and keeps his affairs
in order.  He keeps his blade sharp and slices through obstacles
without effort.  He thinks before he acts and then acts with
confidence.  He is resilient because he is aware and self-reliant.  He
is slave to nothing and no one.

A knife is a weapon.  It is a sign of power, of strength, and
independence.  Sometimes a weapon may be turned on oneself, but the
warrior must learn to wield his weapon.  The blade is the source of
his power, and to strip him of it for his own safety is to sabotage
him.

Without a sword, the warrior is powerless.  He can't as easily hurt
himself, but neither is he equipped to protect himself.

The warrior must learn to trust himself.  Trust him and he will trust himself.

Through the Darkness and Into the Light

My name is Aaron.  I have bipolar depression.  I have taken more psych meds that I can count, and I'm here today to share my story, and most importantly, to say that there's always hope.  The reason I feel confident in saying something I always thought was so trite is that I know now that we never run out of things to try.  Like many stories worth telling, mine is one of going through the darkness and into the light.

There is about a five year period of time that I don't really remember.  While my friends went to college and did all the fun things that you can only really get away with when you're that age, I went to psychiatrists.  I firmly believed that I had a terminal disease and that I was fighting a losing battle.  It certainly seemed that way, too.  I just got worse and worse, and I was a topic of discussion for my whole family.  To be the problem everyone is talking about is a most unsettling feeling.

Over time, most of my family became convinced that I was lazy and that I wasn't trying.  I didn't really disagree.  But my mom tackled my depression head on, and over time I think she became nearly as depressed as I was.  I remember her lying on the couch, staring at the wall, with a look of utter hopelessness and defeat on her face.  I knew it was because of me and I remember feeling so sad and powerless that I couldn't seem to keep from destroying her life.  That was the worst part, feeling like I was to blame for her despair.

I tried to kill myself twice.  After the second time I was hospitalized.  I felt hopeless, largely because I felt I had already tried everything and that nothing was working.  I had learned a fair amount about psych meds over the course of taking so many of them, because I wanted to be knowledgeable about what I was taking.  I learned about SSRIs, tricyclics, antipsychotics, mood stabilizers, and so forth.  I knew I had tried many of the drugs in each of these categories, and others, and that I was running out of drugs to try.  But what I didn't know was that there is a whole world of options out there, and that psych meds make up only a small number of the options available.

When I was in the hospital I agreed to try Electro Convulsive Therapy (ECT), because I felt like I'd already tried everything else.  The point of ECT, as you may already know, is to induce a short seizure, which supposedly realigns something in your brain.  Well I didn't get my brain realigned, and instead of one short seizure, I had a series of long seizures the doctors had trouble stopping.  I spent that weekend in the ICU and don't remember any of it.  My psychiatrist was never able to figure out why that happened, but he did suggest that I try again.  Fortunately, I declined.

I'd been taken off my meds for the ECT and after that failed, I was put back on them.  I was still in the hospital and was having uncontrollable crying spells.  I wasn't allowed to go outside and all there was to do was to sit for hours in front of the TV (which I despise) or to read, in between the various sessions they held.  Much of the material they presented in these sessions was good, but was a repeat of another outpatient program I'd been to previously.  I wasn't allowed to leave until my psychiatrist decided I was ready.

I was still depressed, and the hospital was only making things worse.  I hid my crying spells and feelings, and manufactured what I hoped would be a believable story of feeling a little better each day.  Talking to my doctor, I felt like a prisoner talking to his parole board.  I guess I'm a good liar because they eventually let me out.  I remember the day I got out, driving to buy new strings for my guitar, with the windows down and the wind in my hair.  It was one of the best days of my life.

The hospital was my rock bottom - I was determined to never go back to a psych hospital, and resolved to either get better or find a better way to kill myself.  I spent a lot of time working on both.  I got out of the hospital in February of 2005, and over the course of that year I quit taking my psych meds and starting getting acupuncture.  I started paying more attention to what I ate and I started exercising.  I had some mind expanding experiences, and I really grew up a lot. 

I gave up on psychiatry as a solution for my problems.  And I'll admit, I had gone into it with an immature attitude, expecting the doctor to fix me instead of working to fix myself.  I know psych meds help some people and I am not suggesting that anyone quit taking their meds if they work.  There is no uniform treatment that works for everyone, and that is one point I wish to make:  Everyone is different and gets better in their own way.

Treatment has such a narrow scope in many people's minds - it means doctors and pills.  But treatment and recovery encompass everything from what drugs you take to whether you like your job, to what you do with your free time, to where you live and the people you surround yourself with, and much, much more.  It's about being happy, and everyone has factors that affect their happiness, whether or not they have ever felt depressed or been to a psychiatrist.

By far, the biggest and most important thing I've learned is that you're never out of options.  You never run out of things to try, and any time you feel like you've tried it all it just means you're not looking hard enough.  It means it's time to branch out and investigate a totally new aspect or approach.  I let doctors give me a seizure before I had tried things as simple as exercise, nutrition, or acupuncture.  It's really crazy, looking back. 

The few years following my release from the hospital were far from perfect and I experienced plenty of dark times and what I guess you could call relapses.  But the overall trend was a positive one, and I have made a long uphill battle to where I am today.

Nowadays I work in IT, working on computers, and I live in an apartment I like on the east side.  I have a wonderful girlfriend, and I spend a lot of time on creative endeavors.  These creative outlets have been very important to my recovery.  I play guitar and sing, and I draw.  I write on a blog.  I still get acupuncture, and I trade guitar lessons for my treatments.  I take Lithium, which I've been back on for a few years, and it helps keep me on an even keel.  I'm working on saving money to move out of Texas, which has been a dream of mine for years.  I love Austin, but I really want to live someplace with cooler weather.

I still have times when I feel depressed and I'm by no means magically cured and happy all the time, but who is?  That's unrealistic.  I am happy overall and I would consider myself to have recovered.  I have a good support system in place of people I can talk to when I need to.  I look forward to the future and am glad I have persevered and made it this far. 

I value openness and welcome any questions anyone has.  I am here because I want to share, and would rather someone ask me something they feel awkward about than hesitate out of fear of either asking something too personal or me judging them.  I also have business cards for the acupuncturist I see at South Austin Community Acupuncture.  His name is Mike Sobin and he works on a sliding scale, with prices as low as $15 per treatment.  It's been an effective, affordable treatment that has made a big difference in my life.

Finally, it doesn't matter who you are, where you've been, or what you've done.  The past is the past, and all you can change about it is how you view it.  It can either be a situation that's depressingly similar to the present, or it can be that period in your life when you were just crazy screwed up.  It's up to you.  All that matters is that you continue to try, because giving up is the only way anyone really loses.

I Was an Asshole, But She Was a Bitch First

Sure, I was crude, but the thing I don't think she understands is that I don't act that way towards people who DON'T say things like “you have a God-shaped hole in your heart”. I'm not lewd to people who DON'T introduce their sermon by saying “I swear I'm not preaching, but...”. I don't do that to people who say “this is what I believe, what do you believe?”. But to the arrogant stranger who said my heart has a God shaped hole in it, I replied “I have a God-shaped hole in my heart like a lesbian has a dick shaped hole between her legs”.

And yes, that was crude. I'll admit that freely. And this was on Facebook, so it's not like the woman was talking directly to me. I didn't say what I did to offend her, but I didn't refrain in order not to offend her. I figured she'd be offended by what I said, but I don't generally feel obligated to be that considerate to a person who I feel is being disrespectful to others. And I'm sure she didn't intend to offend me either, but I stand by what I said, which I think was an accurate, even clever analogy.

I feel that when an evangelical type engages me in a conversation like that, telling me in such a friendly, personable way that I'm inherently flawed, I have two options. I can either hold my tongue and be polite in the face of their unintentional attacks, or I can be an asshole. Mind you, I don't feel like I'm being an asshole, but they do. And I don't even like being an asshole, but then I'm not the one going around imposing my beliefs on other people. I'm just reacting, defending myself against personal attacks from a person who often times knows nothing about me.

They're just telling me what they believe, and I understand that. And I understand that doing so is important to them. But if I tell them what I believe, my goodness how offensive! I don't even say I think that they as a specific individual are performing the ultimate sin by trying to shirk responsibility for their own sins onto the shoulders of Jesus. I'm not as tacky as they are when they tell me that I, Rhomboid specifically, am a sinner. I say to them that I think Christianity is a fable that manipulates people into feeling guilty for things they can't change, and then bends people to the will of the church by exploiting that guilt. And if that makes me an asshole, I'll wear the crown. But it's one size fits all, and is equally at home atop the head of the Evangelical.

1. I find Evangelism to be very offensive.
2. But, I don't expect Evangelicals to stop proselytizing.
3. I don't demand that they take their programs off the TV or radio.
4. I'm polite when they knock on my door and try to convert me.
5. I'm nicer than they would be if I knocked on their door and told them in the nicest possible way that their beliefs are flawed, and the truth is that going to church is a waste of time at best and simple brainwashing at worst.
6. We heathens need to quit feeling bad about standing up for ourselves.
7. We need to feel as comfortable and justified telling them what we believe as they do.
8. Being honest is not the same thing as being hateful.

I didn't have to be crude, but I was. She's right about that. But by the same token, she could have just said that her belief in God has made a big difference in her life, but she didn't. She said that everyone needs God in their heart or they'll be forever incomplete. And that's okay too, it's just the hypocrisy that bothers me. Honestly, mostly I just wonder if she understood what I meant about heart and dick holes.

Antithesis

Have you ever yelled or screamed to express an emotion other than anger?  Have you ever cheered on a sports team or screamed in sheer excitement, or maybe sheer terror?  Me too.

When you hear a father screaming "Go, go go!" at his kid's Little League game, do either you or the child conclude that his dad is mad at him?  Well maybe if the kid is autistic, but - yeah, me either.

Of course, screaming is usually a reflection of intense emotion, but the specific emotion itself can result from any number of different feelings - some good and some bad.  We all understand this, at least most of the time.

But when you hear music with someone screaming the lyrics at you, what is your initial reaction?  Many people find it disconcerting and unpleasant, and interpret it as anger.  And though it certainly can come out of anger, the yelling is more a reflection of intense emotion than any specific feeling.  It's conveying something too packed with emotion to sing in a gentle three part harmony, the same way you wouldn't whisper "This is the best day of my life!  I'm the king of the world!" or "I can't stand this job another day - I quit!".

Take the screaming however you want.  Art is in the eye (or ear) of the beholder.  And if you don't like heavy metal, that's cool. This really isn't about taste.  I'm just very confused as to why so many people take this certain sound to mean anger every time, when in other areas of life we all understand it is a way of expressing a multitude of different emotions.

The ironic part is that metal is the most inclusive genre of music I know, and yet it's arguably the most shunned by the rest of the music world.  Personally, I like music with variety - bands who mix many different influences and genres together.  Some of my favorites are "metal" bands who play a little bit of everything - jazz, southern rock, pop, dance, R & B, blues, and folk to name a few.  I wish the the jazz bands, pop groups, and all the rest would mix in some metal every once in awhile.  Now that's a show I'd go to!

But many people contend that metal is very static - always loud, heavy, and fast.  And maybe they've never heard metal with a wide dynamic range, music that transitions from gentle instrumentals to funky abstract jazz, to grinding electric guitar, to doowop.  Like any other genre of music, there's plenty of bad metal out there, and most of it makes its way onto the radio.  But I would argue that pop, jazz, and the rest are far more static styles of music, genres that bind musicians to a certain style and dynamic range.

The metal I'm talking about runs the gamut from soft and gentle to loud and heavy and everything in between, but chances are you're not going to hear pop artists break into a hardcore breakdown.  Singer-songwriters may make it down to the soft and gentle end of the dynamic range, but aren't going reach the top of the energy spectrum.  They're bound by convention and are basically prohibited from venturing that far.

But metal bands are free to go anywhere they want because they've already broken convention.  They're already running around like crazy people, banging out what is often quite complex, technical music and screaming "BRING ME THE HEAD OF ANDY WARHOL!" in one song and then following it up with an R & B tune.  And that is precisely where their true freedom and power lies - in their lack of inhibition.

Like I said, it doesn't really concern me whether you like metal or not.  That's not what this is about.  I'm just so very perplexed as to why most people have this uniform reaction to screaming in the context of heavy metal, a sound they understand can have any number of different meanings in different situations.  I find it very strange how something which seems so simple could be a mystery to so many.

The Psychogenetic Birthular Attachment

After a woman gives birth, it's not entirely uncommon for her to go through a period of serious depression.  We all know this.  In fact, it's so common it has a name – post-pardum depression.  By and large, we view it simply as what it is – a possible consequence or aftermath of childbirth.  It is something we watch out for and treat when it comes up, but it's not something we view as terrifying and mysterious.  There is no movement (at least I hope there's not) that is encouraging women to stop having babies because of the risks of post-pardum depression.  This would be silly; lots of women describe the day they gave birth as the best day of their life and having babies obviously isn't a problem.

And from what I understand, mothers frequently describe giving birth as a life-changing event and the greatest accomplishment of their lives.  Indeed, the moment a mother delivers her baby she successfully overcomes what is likely the biggest obstacle she has ever faced – an obstacle that, for the hours leading up to that moment, seemed completely overwhelming.  Many women experience an altered state of consciousness while in labor, which science tells us is due to naturally occurring chemicals that are released in the brain.  After giving birth, she returns to waking life with a sense of overwhelming joy, accomplishment, and a strong instinct to protect and care for her newborn child.

And interestingly enough, this description of childbirth is very similar to what many people experience when they take psychedelic drugs.  Oh man, I got you!  This essay is really about drugs!  I lulled you in with two paragraphs about childbirth, and now I have the gall to compare eating filthy, illegal drugs I bought on the street to the natural beauty of childbirth.  But let me explain – this essay isn't that long and I swear there's truth to this...

The psychedelic experience is indeed very similar to what I have described in the second paragraph.  Upon taking the drug, the space cadet is likely presented with some sort of obstacle.  This obstacle often involves first being confronted with a skeleton in the closet, and then being made to decide whether to deal with said skeleton or to be plagued by it for what seems like an eternity.  This situation is akin to that of the mother-to-be in the throes of labor, who is presented with the option of either giving birth or staying pregnant forever.  In the case of the either the space cadet or the woman in labor, both of their options seem pretty terrible.

Yes, the space cadet is also transported to an altered state of consciousness, one in which time seems to stand still and his demons seem more patient than he ever could be.  This can be a very uncomfortable place to be, and having all this thrust upon him in an unpleasant setting will only make matters worse.  Examples of unpleasant environments include a loud party full of strangers, a jail cell, an expanse of wilderness in which he finds himself lost, or any place with his parents or some other authority figure yelling at him.  Some environments are equally unpleasant and potentially dangerous to a woman in labor, most notably hospitals.  Both his and her environments have a dramatic impact on their experiences because he and she are both so vulnerable at the time they take place.  It's not any more unreasonable or unlikely that he may end up in some way scarred from his experience than she may from hers, if they take place in a bad environment.

Taking psychedelics at a party is often about like having intensive psychotherapy on a crowded subway.  Both psychedelics and psychotherapy tend to bring about personal, emotional moments that deserve some tender respect and privacy.  No one would choose to finally deal with a childhood trauma or their guilt over something they've done in a loud room full of strangers.  Of course – it doesn't make any sense, and if attempted it's entirely likely that the experience will make things worse and bury those feelings the patient was struggling to uncover even deeper.  I think we all can agree how ludicrous this situation would be.  But when we substitute "psychedelic" for "psychotherapist" and the same thing happens, everything changes somehow.  It must be that there's something wrong with the drug itself, we conclude.  But in reality there are many, many people who benefit from psychedelics and whose stories don't make the gossip circle or the TV news, just as there are countless women who are forever changed for the better the day they give birth.

So why would anyone want to take a psychedelic and be confronted by painful memories anyway?  Well, for the same reason anyone would want to have psychotherapy, and even for some of the same reasons they'd want to have a baby, I think.  The initial hours of agony in any case are really not the point; the end result in the time that follows is.  I tend to think that the agony itself is often a kind of sacrifice, one necessary to make the ecstasy that follows it truly meaningful.  But in any event, no one talks endlessly about the day he finally came to terms with some painful issue any more than a mother endlessly talks about the hours she spent in labor.  No, the patient talks about his new interests and opportunities now that he's feeling better, and the mother talks about her baby's current goings-on – not about the day the kid got there.

And so it is with a person who takes psychedelics responsibly – anyone who has benefited from them will tell you how much brighter their lives are for the days, months, and even years AFTER a trip, not necessarily during.  Not that there's no such thing as a beautiful, happy, peaceful trip – in fact, I should clarify and add that I think beautiful experiences are the norm among people who have some awareness of what they're doing.  I can say with confidence that the vast majority of my experiences have been very pleasant both during and after, and even the more turbulent times have ended well and benefited me in one way or another.  I definitely don't believe the hellish or “bad” trips are the majority; they're just the subject of the most publicity, and so garner the most attention. 

If we ignore the sensationalism surrounding psychedelics and focus instead on these similarities between childbirth and the psychedelic experience, we can see that these drugs give us a way to be reborn, in a pretty literal sense.  I believe this is their core purpose, and it comprises the final and most significant similarity between childbirth and the psychedelic experience.  After childbirth, if everything goes right, the mother is left with an overwhelming instinct to protect and care for her baby.  This is obviously very important if the child his going to survive and flourish.  And similarly, after a psychedelic trip, if everything goes right the space cadet is left with renewed self-confidence and interest in nurturing himself.  He is left with renewed faith in his abilities, his self-worth, and his goals. 

He is now free to look upon himself as a parent looks at a child – with awe, wonder, and unconditional love.  Through the psychedelic experience he gives birth to a new incarnation of himself, and by doing so strengthens his resolve to nurture himself, much as a mother cements her instinct to nurture during the process of giving birth.  Indeed, this is where the true power of psychedelics lies – they can help us to recognize three very important things:  One, that we are each beautiful, special, and have limitless potential for joy; two, that it is our own individual responsibility and no one else's to nurture and protect those qualities in ourselves; and three, that we are completely capable of handling this responsibility.  This is how psychedelics allow us to be reborn as our own capable, loving parents – and frequently, as adults.

Why Going Green Makes Me See Red

As zealous fervor continues to stampede its way over critical thinking, we are rapidly turning into a nation of consumers who are afraid of chemicals and any product whose packaging doesn't reassure us that it is doing its part to help save the planet.  Please, manufacturers of consumer goods, please help guide and educate me on how best to care for the environment.  You must certainly be knowledgeable and unbiased sources of information, and I am confident that you have the environment's best interest in mind.  Tell me what purchases I can make to help, and I'll listen.  I don't have time to actually research what will help save the planet, but I sure do want to feel like I'm part of the solution.

Yeah!  Go me! 

Thankfully, the very notion that we could destroy the planet or possibly harm nature is a complete fallacy, one based entirely in arrogance.  It is as an idea as self-centered as presuming that the sun rotates around the earth because that's how things appear to us.  But on the contrary, nature is all-encompassing and we are just one part of it.  Indeed, there is nothing that is not nature – not even atom bombs, synthetic fibers or your iPhone, and nature will still be here long after we are gone.  The current oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico is not hurting nature; the oil gushing out into the water is nature.  And although it's making a huge mess all over the nature in and along the Gulf, it's just one part of nature affecting another.  This spill may threaten our own existence by disrupting the ecosystem in the Gulf, but nature is in no way “under attack”. 

Indeed, we are merely one part of nature, and we are not the only ones known to drive a species to the point of extinction.  If a flood wipes out a species, the lesson isn't to prevent floods at all costs in the future.  No, the real lesson is that Darwin was right – circumstances change and the species that fail to adapt don't survive.  It's really disappointingly simple:  Nature is constantly changing and evolving; some species change and mutate to form entirely new ones, and others die out.  And as a part of nature ourselves, we sometimes wipe out other parts.  But we are no different than a flood or a volcano and there is no arbitrary point in time we can point to as “perfect” and insist that it be preserved by all means necessary.  This is a fool's errand, a task as impossible as it is pointless.  However, it is precisely what the environmental movement at large is insisting we do. 

I work in a wood shop that makes furniture and cabinets, mostly for customers who have a lot of money to spend on “eco-friendly” products that help them feel good about themselves.  But what's so noble about buying new furniture?  Even making something out of reclaimed lumber is an energy-intensive endeavor and buying a “green” dresser or table isn't as green as simply being content with what one already has, or buying a smaller house that requires less furniture to furnish.  And because most of our furniture is custom, I burn tremendous amounts of diesel driving the shop truck around town looking for the particular lumber and hardware our customers want.  But that's not what they'll tell their friends about; they'll talk about the furniture's low-VOC finish and the sustainable materials used in its construction.  The truth is that our customers just want a new piece of nice furniture, and that's fine.  And besides, they pay my rent.  But they're deluding themselves by taking credit for any more than that – getting new furniture and paying my rent.

In addition to our self-declared responsibility to “buy green”, we now feel obligated to protect and manage other species.  Now we may feel sad that something we did wiped out a species, and we can try to save a species on the brink of extinction, but this emotion should not be confused with environmentalism.  The real task at hand from an environmental standpoint is to maintain a hospitable, life-sustaining environment that will provide us with adequate food, water, and shelter.  But we must be honest with ourselves – we are NOT saving the planet.  We pose absolutely no threat to the planet, and this is not some altruistic or selfless act.  It is simply a matter of self-preservation: we like being alive and living in at least relative comfort, and we want the same for our children.  Indeed, we are concerned with the environment for two reasons – one, because of the guilt we feel for running over cute little bunnies with our cars – and two, because we want to protect our species and quality of life.  We want to feel better about the impact we have on other parts of nature, but we definitely don't want to give up our cars or air conditioners.  And who could blame us?

Besides, there really is no reason to feel guilty; we should instead foster an appreciation for the extremely high quality of life we enjoy and work to maintain it.  Even a person working a menial job for little money has a high quality of life compared to many people throughout history.  There is no reason to feel guilty for enjoying the bounty we have created for ourselves, but there are plenty of reasons to foster an appreciation for it.  We are extremely lucky to be alive here and now, to have shoes and dentists, and freedom from a king or slave owner.  For our own sake and the sake of our children we want to maintain a hospitable environment in which a person would want to live.  But the dead bunnies don't hold roadkill against us any more than they resent the storm that causes a flood, or the wolves that hunt them for food. 

However, this is not the story we hear.  We are bombarded both by stories of our greed-driven atrocities worldwide, and by products that make us feel like we're making a difference.  Understandably, there is a lot of emotion wrapped up in all this and it's easy to let those feelings get the better of us, but that passionate emotion can push us to make impulsive decisions that may not turn out to be so helpful.  Environmental issues can be best solved by objective, scientific research and carefully calculated figures and plans.  But how many of us know how much energy it takes to recycle a plastic bottle rather than make a new one, or what makes the “green” dishwashing liquid superior to the conventional version? 

What most of us do know is that we live very comfortable lives, that our lifestyles have negatively affected some other species, and that we feel bad about that.  However, this information is not adequate to make decisions that will help other species or ourselves.  There are no black-and-white absolutes, and different methods and products each have advantages and disadvantages.  For example, buying a Prius is a really attractive option because I get a new car out of the deal, which is something I want already, and on top of that I get to feel like I'm literally helping to save the planet.  It seems that as long as I have the money, I've got nothing to lose and everything to gain.

But that's emotion talking, along with my own material desire.  Buying a Prius is probably a better option than buying a full-size truck, but there are many factors that go into evaluating the most environmentally friendly option.  What kind of car do I drive now?  Does it get decent gas mileage?  Do I maintain it well to maximize that mileage?  How much of an improvement in gas mileage will I get from a hybrid car?  How much energy does it take to manufacture a hybrid car as compared to a conventional small car like a Civic or a Corolla?  What is the environmental toll from disposing of the toxic batteries in a hybrid car when they have to be replaced?  What kind of driving do I do?  Do I do more in-town driving, or is it mostly long-distance highway driving?  Are there a lot of hills to take advantage of the energy-generating ability of the brakes in the hybrid or do I drive on mostly flat terrain?  These are just a few things I must consider if I am truly looking after the environment and not just my own self-interest.

There are many things I can do that cost little or nothing and offer significant benefits to the environment.  Many environmentally conscious people ignore the less exciting ways to go green like performing routine maintenance on their car and changing the filter for the air conditioner in their house regularly.  They stand in the doorway discussing sustainable materials while the cold air pours out around them.  These conservation practices aren't sexy, but they make a big difference.  So this is my environmental war cry: Keeping the front door closed when possible is going green!  Keeping your car tires properly inflated is going green!  Parking in the shade in the summer and turning the AC off when you leave the house is going green!  Knowing where you're going and planning an efficient route so as not to drive in circles is going green!  None of it is very exciting or fun, and you're not going to get a hot date or anyone's praise because you change your air filter regularly.  Frankly, no one will care, but praise and approval can't be our goal.

Well, that's not strictly true – I will give you a most emphatic high-five if you tell me about the rather dull but significant ways in which you've gone green.  There must be more critical thinkers out there, and we are poised to make a real difference.  We can take the environmental movement back from the insincere who are involved for self-serving reasons.  We can reclaim environmentalism as a legitimate movement that operates based on scientific data instead of marketing campaigns, half-truths, and eco-guilt.  And if you don't care to help, that's totally fine.  I certainly don't do nearly as much as I could, but let's call a spade a spade:  Buying furniture and participating in an environmental protest aren't going to determine how to make decisions that will benefit the environment; critical review of hard data will, and it's time to stop playing, start thinking, and make that happen.

Anecdotal Autodidact

--->   au·to·di·dact, noun: a self-taught person

When I was seventeen I took a Driver's Education course in which I had to watch an inane video tape which intended to teach, or at least claimed to teach why reckless driving "isn't worth it".  To be clear, I'm all for safe driving - in fact, many people's driving habits bother me, but that is neither here nor there.  The problem with this video is that it presented no real information.  It merely projected a facade of objectivity and used manipulation and pseudo-science to support a preordained conclusion. The story of this video itself is boring, but can be confined to one paragraph...

In the video, two different drivers are timed as they drive a certain route.  One observes the speed limit, stop signs, etc..., and the other doesn't.  They are each scored on a rubric which takes the time each driver took to complete the route, and from that subtracts time for courteous driving and adds time for violating traffic laws.  Arbitrary values are assigned to various penalties and those values are used to calculate the final score.  The reckless driver gets a better drive time, but the courteous driver scores better according to the rubric and wins the competition.  The obvious conclusion, the video would have us believe, is that driving safely is objectively and scientifically superior to the alternative.  And hooray for courteous driving and all, but the real issue here is the use of nonsensical, Machiavellian tactics as tools for education.  Having safe drivers is important, but it certainly doesn't justify using deceptive pseudo-science in the process.

When you use nonsense to teach, not all kids will react in the same way.  Some will listen to you because they are eager for approval, or because it doesn't occur to them not to listen.  Others are going to ignore you because they just don't care and no matter what you say or how you say it they are lost, at least for the time being.  And a few other kids will ignore you because some part of them understands that what you are telling them is bullshit.  They will be labeled "problem students", and they may even end up in jail.  This is what and when we will notice and shake our heads in mournful disapproval, but jail is the end of their path.  And their path frequently begins the same way – with an absolutely earnest, innocent appeal to teachers and parents long before their discipline problems begin: "This video doesn't make any sense.  Why do I have to watch it?  Why don't my classmates or teachers notice that this is nonsense?  Why aren't they as frustrated as I am?"

These appeals are frequently misunderstood and ignored, and the youth's confusion may soon turn to anger.  They know they're not getting anything out of the "material" being presented and they're going to do their best to make sure no one else does either, because they feel insulted.  They don't care if they are reprimanded for their naughty, disruptive behavior because they have lost respect for those doing the reprimanding.  They feel insulted and hurt, and they don't understand why the people who are supposed to care about them seem to be ignoring their feelings.

Many teachers, administrators, politicians, and parents don't understand that what they teach with the best of intentions can sometimes be poisonous.  The real lesson learned in Driver's Ed that day had nothing to do with driving safety or turn signals, and was different for different kids.  Many learn from their teachers' dismissive attitudes that it isn't important to understand the point of what they're doing, but rather to just complete the assignment and pass the class.  And most significantly, they learn that seeking out help from their parents and teachers is futile because when they do seek it, they just don't get any.  Their genuine appeals are met with indifference at best, and criticism and condescension at worst.  This produces alienated teenagers who choose not to seek help from their parents or social programs in the future, but may instead turn to various bad influences, gangs, and cults.  They will take their cues from nearly ANYONE who makes them feel more understood, more accepted and less alienated, anyone who provides the feelings they weren't getting from their parents and teachers.

In high school I took a Speech class from a subhuman known as Ms. Marhkles.  The garbage that woman tried to teach me was asinine and she honestly didn't understand most of the jokes I made at her expense, but you can be sure the majority of my classmates did.  It was the most frustrating class I've ever taken, simply because I knew that I was trapped in a class that was a waste of my time and that some of the information being presented was flat-out wrong.  The recurring phrase "I have a dream" in Martin Luther King Jr.'s famous speech is an example of repetition, not metaphor, but don't tell Ms. Marhkles that.  She once sent me to the office for disrupting her class, where I had a very memorable conversation with an Assistant Principal named Ms. Sehdle, a conversation in which I took great solace.  In so many words, she conceded that Ms. Marhkles wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer and that she understood my frustration, but that I had to suck it up and just ride out the rest of the semester.  That is the most honest thing any teacher has ever said to me, and it was one of the few times I felt like one leveled with me about something significant instead of patronizing and manipulating me.  It caught me completely by surprise.  I went back to class feeling very content, and this is key, even though I still had to go to that ridiculous class.

Indeed, the moronic teachers out there with asinine lesson plans are only half of the problem.  If you make a kid do something ridiculous but are straightforward and honest about the situation, that can be tolerated.  It's not desirable, but at least the kid isn't going to feel deceived.  He will still know that he can trust you and expect honest answers from you, even if he's mad that you're making him go to a stupid class.  But if you try to deceive the kid, whether you think it's for his own good or not, all you will do is alienate him.  It may not be immediate and you may successfully trick him for a time, but the end result will nearly always be the same.

This seems to be a difficult concept for many educators and parents to hear, but one that is important to a small group of very bright kids with tremendous potential.  These are kids who, for the most part, don't need or even benefit from traditional education, and are indeed inhibited by it.  But given an appropriate environment to learn, these kids will likely become important leaders with the potential to do great things both for themselves, and even for society as a whole.  These kids benefit from teachers who are available to answer questions and make suggestions, but do not force the kids to adhere to a rigid lesson plan.  Not all children benefit from this style of learning, to be sure, but it makes all the difference for the ones who do.  They don't even need you to teach them; they can teach themselves.  They just need your permission and a little understanding.

To make life more interesting, given my general dissatisfaction with the education system in general, my sister Laura has become a middle school teacher.  It's really not nearly as bad as it sounds.  In fact, it's pretty cool in a lot of ways, but we sometimes disagree on some key points.  A story she told me actually constitutes most of the reason I began writing this anecdotal abomination in the first place:  She has a student who was keeping his pencils in an inside-out Crown Royal whiskey bag, and she told him he needed to replace it.  To me this is astonishing, almost as astonishing as most people's lack of astonishment is to me when they hear this story.  What has the student done wrong?  He didn't bring alcohol to school.  He's not advocating underage drinking, at least not overtly.  He even turned the bag inside out.

What Laura's actions say to him are, "You aren't old enough or smart enough to even be cognizant of alcohol.  I'm pretending that alcohol doesn't exist because it's more comfortable for me that way, and you must also."  She doesn't ask him why he chose that pencil bag, what it means to him, where he got it, or what he thinks about alcohol.  She doesn't ask whether he thinks it's okay to drink in seventh grade, or why.  She doesn't ask him whether he drinks at all.  All she does is get rid of something that offends her in some way – a seventh grader with a Crown Royal bag.  Indeed, this is solely and precisely what the entire conflict is really about – good, old-fashioned hear no evil, see no evil denial.

I sincerely have no doubt that Laura is an awesome teacher.  She is compassionate, intelligent, and passionate about teaching, and she wants nothing but the best for her students.  And of course, she is under pressure from parents and school administration.  There are numerous rules she must follow or risk serious ramifications if she defies them.  She only has so much freedom to do what she thinks is right, but it is important that teachers help maintain a voice of reason.  As the educators interacting most directly with the kids themselves, more so than the principals and superintendents, they are privy to the most information from them.  And this information is of the utmost importance, because if those educators making the policies and writing the lesson plans don't really know and understand their kids, they will never reach the majority of them.  In school it's the same as it is in show-business – an educator must know his or her audience.

Please keep in mind that I took Driver's Ed ten years ago, and Ms. Marhkles' speech class about a year after that.  After all this time, I still remember both of them vividly.  Both were such insults to my intelligence that the memories are permanently etched in my mind.  When writing and rereading some stories I relate in this essay I relive the emotions I describe in them, and it's still enough to make my eyes well up with tears.  I feel that I was robbed of parts of my adolescence, which is arguably the most precious time in a person's life.  We are willing to go to great lengths to help and protect our children, but when it comes to protecting them from mandatory time leeches like these classes we turn a blind eye.  An hour a day, five days a week, for a whole semester I was in that speech class!  Think of all the things I could have experienced and learned in that formative time, given a little freedom.

It must be difficult for a teacher like Ms. Marhkles to teach a student far more intelligent than herself.  A teacher of moderate to low intelligence has little to offer a very bright kid, but the most important thing she can do is be aware of that fact and stay out of the way when she is not helping.  The most intelligent people in the world are the people who listen, and the teachers who really listen to their students do the most good.  Throughout this essay I think I have been pretty clear that I consider myself to be an example the bright autodidacts I have described.  I try not to be boastful and my goal is not to gloat.  Besides, I don't have any kids of my own, so why should I care about the schools at all?

The purpose of this rambling, abruptly transitioned series of anecdotal observations is to explore and express feelings I've always had but never understood or felt comfortable with until recently.  I also hope these musings make sense to some educators and young people who can relate to the stories I've told.  These are kids whose confidence in their very real gifts is being destroyed by the education system, which tries to cram those gifts into boxes that just do not fit, and whose labels aren't even close to accurate.   And of course this is all just my opinion, but I am confident that my experiences are relevant to other young autodidacts suffering from frustrations and difficulties similar to those I have faced.  It is completely unfair and counterproductive to chastise these kids for their natural curiosity and shrewd intelligence, and adapting education to better suit them is really not as radical a proposal as it sounds.

Without being "taught", I have learned how to do the following: Run my own Computer and Network Troubleshooting business, fix bicycles, play the guitar, and take quality photos with amateur equipment, just to name a few things.  I have also quickly become a valuable asset to the wood shop I work at, even though I admittedly don't know much about woodworking.  Of course, I've had plenty of valuable support from the time I was little, but I generally learn best by experimenting and researching on my own – and, as an apprentice of sorts, working with people who know a trade.  For the most part I don't need or even benefit from having a “teacher” in the traditional sense of the word; all I really need is someone who will answer some questions and otherwise stay out of my way.

Indeed, my employers like me because I can figure things out and solve problems without them having to babysit me, and I like them because they give me the freedom to get things done in a way that makes sense to me.  I don't need to pay for school because I can get paid to learn while I'm providing a service of real value to a real business that is, in turn, providing a real product in the real world for a real profit.  Compare this to paying money to sit in a classroom and not provide any real service to anyone, except maybe for the university.  I'm really not even very unique; lots of people can learn this way and some do it already.  But unfortunately, the mindset that learning must involve a teacher and a classroom has been ingrained in us like a religion, and many people are convinced they can't learn any other way.

This, however, is another subject entirely.  For now I shall stick to the one at hand and conclude my defense of the self-taught and misunderstood.  We all learn differently, and some of us are actually impeded by an educator's best intentions.  The irony is rich:  We're sabotaging some of our brightest kids in an attempt to help them, and we're using tax money to pay for it.  As a parent or a teacher it must be hard to know when to let go and give a kid more freedom, and perhaps even harder to let go when you know it's the right thing to do.  But what all kids need are more Assistant Principals like Ms. Sehdle – sincere educators who give honest answers even when it would be more comfortable not to.  Kids also need more teachers like Laura, a sister who is willing to consider what I have to say even though I've gone to the trouble of writing an entire essay more or less attacking her profession.  They are the ones who are listening, and the ones who listen are the ones who make a difference.

Drowning in Logic

I. GOOD & EVIL: THE POWER TO CHOOSE

The battle between good and evil is not an intangible, irrelevant struggle, nor one that takes place only in movies and history books.  It is taking place all around us, inside us, between us, right now, every day.  But it doesn't feel like it...  Our daily struggles feel personal and largely under our conscious control.  It really feels like the choices I make regarding my career path and investment strategy determine the future, but I can't see the forest for the trees.  There is a bigger picture, an invisible network of life that is all-encompassing and driven solely by my intent and the power of my mind.

The day-to-day decisions I make in the physical realm are really not decisions at all, but misunderstood effects of a cause that's been right under my nose for years.  There is an important distinction between making a decision and changing how I think about the decision itself.  Any choice I can make is only possible within a mindset that can conceive it, and its importance necessarily pales in comparison to that of my mindset itself.  My mindset dictates possibilities and determines the very decisions I have to make, as well as the options from which I can choose. 

It hardly seems like I have any control at all over this seemingly static and ingrained level.  No, it seems like I'm at the mercy of how I think, bound to feel certain ways about certain things and live inside the parameters within which I've allowed myself to tread.  How can I change the very basic concept of what seems possible when that decision, more than any other, seems to be completely beyond my control?  It's a Catch-22, and I'm drowning in logic.  The good news is that my logic is flawed. 

Abandoning my logic is integral to unlocking my mindset, which is based on and relevant only to my perception.  Indeed, the mindset I choose shapes my perception and my resulting system of logic, not vice versa.  There are steps I take in an attempt to transcend this world and my perception, steps that don't make much sense to me as a person who clips his toenails and attends civilized gatherings.  But I remind myself that there's more to life than toenails and civilization, that it's possible there is wisdom and knowledge larger than myself, and that I have nothing to lose and everything to gain by tapping into it.

You'll notice I write this in the first person, present tense.  I don't even necessarily write it for you.  I write it for myself, because all this nonsense I believe is strengthened by me writing, thinking, and reinforcing these thoughts.  It's only as true as I believe it to be, and by the time I finish this essay my power to shape my reality and perception will be that much stronger than it was before.  In fact, it will be double-plus strong because I just wrote that last sentence.  Some people say this is all in my head and that I'm not “really” any different than I was before – not scientifically...  And I say they're absolutely right.   

So while they revel in being right, I tell myself things that I want to be true, things that I want to believe.  I literally tell myself that I am the opposite of feelings I have but don't like.  If I feel stiff and sore I tell myself that I am flexible and relaxed.  If I feel anxious I affirm that I am calm and centered.  If I feel redundant with my examples, I remind myself that it's good to be thorough.  And if I genuinely want these feelings that I affirm to be true and concentrate on believing they are instead of concluding that this is all nonsense before I even try, they are true.

I practice this.  It has a cumulative effect and saying “I am confident” ten times won't magically transform me overnight.  But the more I spend my time saying “I am confident” instead of thinking “I'm so horribly shy”, the more confident I am.  Whether or not they're a stretch to believe, the more positive thoughts I have about myself, the better my self-confidence.  After all, that's the whole point – to replace negative thoughts with positive ones.  For sure, we believe the things we say as much as we say the things we believe. 

Yes, I have learned that the most important decision I can make is to be happy, hopeful and positive, so much so that there isn't any room left for negative.  For a long time I didn't make a choice at all between happy or sad, positive or negative, or good or evil.  Making a conscious effort to feel any certain way seemed contrived, insincere and impossible, but I discovered that to not consciously seek good is to choose evil because evil seeps in through any cracks and openings not sealed by good.  There is tremendous power in this choice between good and evil, power to create everything from ecstatic joy to hopeless despair.  And as always, with power comes responsibility.

II. GOOD & EVIL: THE RESPONSIBILITY

Please excuse me for sounding a bit like a “you're weak and don't even know it” Evangelical, but there is a kind of truth in the idea that good and evil work through us without our knowledge.  However, the Bible Belt and I differ in the judgments we make about this phenomenon of evil and what they propose to “fix” a person so possessed.  Their position seems to be that I'm chock full of inherent flaws, sin, and so forth.  They further insist that I must surrender myself to a conceptual being whose very existence is widely disputed in order to be saved.  However, I favor the idea that I'm responsible for myself as a part of this world, and that while the strength and help I need are out there for me, the decision to seek them out is entirely up to me. 

-----> I rely solely upon myself because it's impossible to do anything but. <-----

As a part of this world and universe, I am intertwined with everything and can draw strength and guidance from the puzzle into which I fit.  However, any blessings I may reap from this symbiosis are contingent upon my diligence in seeking good – good, not forgiveness for evil I'm told I was born with.  But many believers deny their own part in determining their fates and blame external “forces” that are merely the effects of their own choices and actions.  Living life from inside the comfort zone of their fable, they make misinformed, immature judgments about the world and vow to abstain from many areas of life out of fear. 

Believe it or not, I do my best to restrain myself only to constructive criticism and I understand the futility in chastising other people and beliefs.  However, I also believe that continually berating oneself with feelings of guilt about inherent flaws is unfair and makes for an extremely inharmonious way to exist.  I criticize in an attempt to foster growth and change, and accordingly I attempt to focus on constructive criticism.  And it's certainly important, second only to choosing to make a choice at all.  That is indeed the most pivotal choice I can make – whether to assume responsibility for my own life and what I contribute to this world. 

III. GOOD & EVIL: THE AWESOME POWER OF GOOD

Regardless of what I think about any of this, the system of choices is still in place.  And whether or not I’d like to admit it, I'm shaping my own life with the decisions I make.  I can fight it or run with it.  And when I run, access to primal power becomes available to me.  When I listen to my instincts and try to make choices that I know are good for me, my power grows.  A calm but strong sense of confidence settles over me, and problems that would have otherwise seemed overwhelming simply work themselves out.  That's the thing about problems – they're only even problems if someone is willing to care about them.  Besides, they always get solved one way or another.  If I just relax and try something, anything that seems like a positive step, I'll make progress – either by figuring something out or by completing a task.  I might end up making progress in a completely unrelated subject or learn something resulting from a mistake I make in the process, but I'll definitely learn and progress.  Conscious thought needn't worry itself much; its role is overstated and marveling at how clever I am for solving a problem is about like admiring my elegant handwriting on a plagiarized homework assignment.

The power to choose is the key to unlocking the truly awesome power of good.  Good is self-sustaining, continually gaining strength and momentum, and its powers are available to me as long as it remains my focus.  Evil is self-destructive, stagnant, and always agitated and discontent.  Followers of the paths of evil are continually being drained and depleted, always trudging two steps forward and sliding back one.  These paths are riddled with briars, quicksand and harsh winds, which sap both strength and resolve with each step.  Agitated, discontent, and feeling trapped in this most unpleasant place, the weary wanderer has two options.  He may choose to pacify his immediate comforts and continue down his current path, sinking deeper into the quicksand, or he may instead summon all his strength and boldly blaze a new path through the dense wilderness in search of a path of good.  In fact, this newly blazed trail itself promptly becomes a path of good by very nature of the wanderer's decision, and he begins to build momentum and strength the second he changes course. 

The wanderer's most difficult and pressing task is to choose good.  This isn't as simplistic and trite as it sounds.  It is certainly true that to choose good frequently involves a considerable amount of difficult work and decision making in the day-to-day physical world.  But the whole point, so to speak, of doing acts of good in this world lies in the power it generates.  Behind the curtains, mind, body, and spirit grow stronger as one travels along paths of good.  There are countless trails winding across this universe, paths that frequently intersect but have very few clearly marked sign posts to guide us along the way.  Though sometimes the destination may be unclear or unknown, each one is a path to somewhere.  This is a reality that deserves some thought and reflection, for this is all life really is – one long path.  Each step down any given path leads the traveler closer to one polar extreme and equally further away from the other.  A spirit wandering with no stated direction will quickly find itself heading down the most well-worn paths, the paths of discontentment and despair that no one would consciously choose to explore. 

Together, we will continue to explore these paths and help guide each other towards and along paths of good, bearing in mind that the virtue of any given path is different for everyone.  We will regrow genuine, personal connections and communication between people who are otherwise empty shells with labels – coworker, doctor, teacher, parent.  More and more, we will proudly project our unique personalities into genuine interactions instead of masking them.  We will further abandon the idea of uniformity, for one man's success is another man's carefully planned self-imprisonment.  As we focus on these efforts and ideals, our collective power as a people grows, just as our power as individuals grows.  And the more that people participate, the more the world becomes the kind of place a person, tree, or animal would want to live.  As a brutally honest, cohesive community of genuine people who each accept responsibility for their own life and aren't afraid to be themselves, we will build an alliance of spirits stronger than any government, organization, or ideology.  And we are going to do all this with the most powerful force we've ever known – the power of our own minds.

Maverickinesiology

Some universities are beginning to offer programs and degrees geared towards fostering Creativity and Originality in their students.  It goes without saying that these are some of the most desirable qualities any aspiring employee might possess in today’s competitive workplace.  Companies and organizations worldwide are looking for sources of Innovative, Novel ideas and strategies to gain an edge on the business market.  The more relevant credentials a job candidate can document, the better his or her prospects are when it comes to salary, job placement, and job security.

While some educational institutions are beginning to pick up on the rapidly growing demand for Originality, most have programs that are just burgeoning and are merely supplementary to existing majors – majors as antiquated as Neuroscience and Molecular Engineering.  To the detriment of their students’ careers, these universities have devoted little attention to the value of Maverick Degree Programs and, as a result, lack an integral foundation in their curriculum.  Only Goatcabin University has devoted an entire College to Originality and Creativity with our exciting new degree program, Maverickinesiology.

Instead of a few freshman courses with some generic pointers and tips on Originality as you would expect from a traditional university, Goatcabin U focuses on little else.  By forgoing many “traditional” subjects and classes such as Art Appreciation, Mathematics, and English Composition that offer little edge in the business market, we have provided our students with dozens of Cutting-Edge course options.   These Groundbreaking, Thought Provoking courses include “Originalilinguistics: Introduction to Improvinazational Englistic Speakerinestitudelization” and “History of Novel Concepts and The Creative Application of Existing Solutions to New Problems”.

At Goatcabin U we offer a wide range of options to suit each individual student and to allow their Creativity and Originality to run free.  There are a number of course plans options, each one meticulously tailored to be as Spontaneous and Unbounded as possible.  None of the credit hours or course requirements hinder a student’s opportunities to freely discover and create in any way.  In fact, students are only required to attend class for seven hours a day and are free to listen to the lecture in whatever manner they please – sitting, standing, or lying down are just a few options!  They are also encouraged to work on developing their own Novel methods of paying close attention to the rigorous lectures.  The possibilities are endless!  The aspiring Maverick’s dedication to his studies in Imaginative Thinking solely defines the limits and boundaries of his or her potential.  That’s why Goatcabin U tenures only highly accredited professors with years of experience teaching this time-tested, proven approach to Creativity and Originality.

The beauty of the Maverickinesiology Program is that, once proficient, a degree-wielding Working Professional has the necessary skills to simply create new systems, languages, truths, and practices to replace existing, outdated models that are not Novel enough to already be part of the Maverick’s existing mental Database of Creativitude.  Anything with a low level of Novelidity can easily be replaced with an Improvised, Original and Innovative substitute.  With just a little Creative Thinking, even the most Unoriginal, Uneducated serfs among us can begin to grasp how these “traditional” areas of study are quickly becoming obsolete in the wake of Maverickinesiology.  Grammar, Mathematics, and even common decency are about as important to a Maverick as a sponge is to that very same Maverick.  After all, he can easily afford a maid!

Countdown to Liftoff

I woke up this morning feeling distinctly like a rocket ship nearing its launch date.  My upcoming launch is the culmination of years of preparation, not that I was aware of any of it until very recently.  This coming week, my final workweek, is my countdown to unemployment – and almost certainly, enlightenment.  I stand to lose anything and gain everything, armed and comforted only by my steadfast belief that I am making the right choice.  The tension is rising... Takeoff is rapidly approaching...  It won't be long now until I am free from this corporate launching pad and soaring unrestrained through the heavens.

But of course, it's just a ride.  I try to remind myself of this.  As real and profound as any of it may seem to be, it's all just a ride. My rocket ship, your SUV...  My Flashback, your Texas Giant...  Which ride seems the most exhilarating, the most lucrative, the most meaningful?  Which ride defines me as a person?  Which is worthy of a lifelong commitment?  Surely one of these rides will keep me adequately entertained and distracted, sedated and planning for a life that is already in progress, and yet always seems is about to begin.

Thinking about the future is really funny.  For one thing, I might die and not even make it to the future, as if it were some kind of tangible eventuality.  I used to worry a lot about my future – what I would regret, what mistakes I could avoid, whether I would be prepared for this or that...  It took me a long time to realize that I was wasting the time I already had worrying about issues beyond my control in a life that will probably bear little resemblance to the scenarios I was envisioning, should I even live that long...  I realize that last sentence is rather clumsy and I modestly argue that its awkwardness stems from the garbled rationale for the mindset it describes, and not from my lack of talent as a writer.

My trivial aptitudes aside, I realize that all I can do is live NOW. That's all anyone can do, and now is all that matters because the future is an illusion.  Living my life in preparation for the future is like going to Six Flags and spending all day making sure my shoes are tied absolutely right.  I ensure that I am 100% ready for the great time I anticipate having, but by the time I'm ready to get on a roller coaster it's too late.  I've wasted my whole day readying my shoes for a perfect day at Six Flags and missed the experience altogether.  The truth is that there is no such thing as a perfect day and I passed up a pretty good one by chasing an unattainable, unnecessary concept of perfection.

I suppose there is one aspect of the future I do grant some authority over how I live my life in the now – a belief that if I live to be old, I'm going to be pretty pissed off at myself if all I have accumulated are a bunch of regrets and "what-ifs".  What could be worse than looking back on a lifetime of caution and missed opportunities driven by fear?  Besides, living for the future is unfulfilling in the now!  ...But again, I realize I am too focused on the ride itself and so I take a step back, as well as a long, deep breath.  I find myself centered in a state of calm exuberance and tranquil excitement.  And with renewed conviction I press on, certain that living life with anything less than wild abandon does not make for much of a life at all.

To the Asshole in the Giant Truck

Relax, champ. You’ve succeeded admirably. We are all very impressed indeed with your monstrous truck. And we’re oh so jealous, absolutely green with envy of your ridiculously overpowered and underutilized mode of transportation. We can feel your ego soar to new heights with each person you tailgate and wildly swerve to pass. Somehow you always know how best to make us admire and covet you. Your truck’s gross inefficiency drives up gas prices and increases pollution for everyone, your obtrusive engine roaring down our streets is loud enough to drown out a heavy metal concert, and you even have complete disregard for the safety of everyone else on the road. But hey, who are we kidding? You had us at monstrous. What more could we ask for?

...Just the one thing, I suppose: Most important of all, you’ve demonstrated your finely honed ability to follow trends. While everyone else was out playing basketball, going to college, learning how to dance, and spending time with friends, you were studying diligently. Like a financial expert follows the stock market, you stay on top of every new trend and you’re always out there to buy it up before anyone else has a chance. And boy, does it show. Rest assured, your tireless efforts have not gone unnoticed or unappreciated. So here’s to you and your usually thankless endeavor to be the biggest fucking deal anyone has ever seen. You and your obtrusive nature will not soon be forgotten.

12 Steps to Enlightenment

1.  Change is usually not a lot of fun

2.  Leaving one's comfort zone is seldom enjoyable

3.  One must frequently make drastic changes outside of his or her comfort zone in order to attain enlightenment and improve his or her quality of life

4.  People frequently go on the defensive when confronted with change and ideas that threaten change

5.  People act on an instinctive level to avoid the unknown and return to their comfort zone as quickly as possible

6.  People may become angry, aggressive, and seem to act irrationally when outside of their comfort zone

7.  When ingested, psychedelics knock people out of their comfort zones in order to precipitate life changes, enlightenment, and confrontation of painful issues

8. An uninformed, unprepared person may take psychedelics recreationally, expecting to "get fucked up", but instead observes the death of his ego

9.  With no one to guide him, he incorrectly blames his unpleasant experience on the drug and not his own ignorance, arrogance, and lack of preparation

10. Little does he know that what has scared him so badly is only the realization of the awesome power of his own mind

11. Ego death can be frightening, especially when it is experienced in the wrong setting and with an unprepared mind, body and soul

12. However, using psychedelics responsibly to attain enlightenment is perhaps the most positive and meaningful thing a person can do for his mind, body, soul, and community

A Public Service Announcement

Have you ever experienced the sensation that you've already experienced the sensation you're currently experiencing?  That is to say, have you ever previously experienced the sensation that you're currently experiencing?  Before?

This may just be déjà vu – an interesting, harmless little phenomenon no one really seems to understand.  But it could also be a symptom of a more serious, highly fatal and Unpatriotic condition known as DEJAVITIS®.  The painful swelling of the left nipple and enlargement of the anal opening associated with this condition have also conclusively led to the possible development of AIDS, CANCER, and chronic DEATH.

As we all know, every good American® shares the responsibility to combat Al Qaeda by appearing to be patriotic at all times.  Indeed, each and every citizen is expected to do his or her part to defend The Greatest Country in the World® from evildoers.  After all, if you're dead, who is going to drive your SUV to display your "Support our Troops" magnets?  Who is going to shout "These Colors Don't Run!"?  Can you afford to take that risk?  Can America®?

Of course, there is no way to irrefutably diagnose DEJAVITIS® – that is, until you die a sudden, otherwise inexplicable death.  Fortunately, the caring upper management at RepubliPfizer® has developed an exclusive Preventative Cure® for this horrendous malady.  Simply take a Serenetab® tablet once a day for the rest of your life to ensure your Good Health®, with the only side effect being a minor case of kidney failure. 

Hopefully, DEJAVITIS® will never suddenly and without warning strike you or your family down like the angry hand of a vengeful god.  But if something does happen, will your peace of mind be protected?  Can you put a price on your life, or the life of your favorite child?  Happily, RepubliPfizer® has taken care of these valuations for you as well.  So ask your doctor about Serenetab® today, because after all, how are you going to defend the Greatest Country in the World® against the terrorists if you're dead?

Chronic Sobriety Disorder

Millions of Americans suffer from Chronic Sobriety Disorder (CSD), a serious medical condition characterized by extended periods of sobriety and resulting depression, anxiety, delusions, and boredom.  Unfortunately, many people suffering from this disorder attempt to self-medicate with unhealthy habits such as overeating, shopping, and watching television and movies.  These attempted treatments do not address the underlying root problem of chronic sobriety and therefore serve only as temporary distractions from getting real help.  Please check your symptoms against the following checklist to evaluate whether you may have a sobriety problem.

Some symptoms of CSD:
-Daily television use
-Increased interest in material possessions
-Strong work ethic
-Frequent attendance at religious services
-Stress and anxiety
-Sense of community with corporate America
-Long, uninterrupted periods of sobriety

Reality, when experienced without the aide of a protective intoxicant, can be overwhelming and is simply too much for many people to handle.  After long periods of sobriety, the brain becomes confused and overworked, resulting in delusions and potentially aggressive behavior.  Many sufferers of CSD even experience a state of denial in which they believe not only that sobriety is a valid state of mind, but indeed the only valid state of mind.  Left untreated, this denial begins to manifest itself into a false feeling of superiority over one's healthy, intoxicated peers, and the sobriety victim may become hostile towards anyone who tries to help.  This, however, is just a symptom of the illness.  Tragically, the invalid is simply too sober to understand his own affliction and may require the introduction of intoxicants against his will to interrupt the dangerous cycle of sobriety.

Although there is no cure for CSD, many different forms of treatment are available.  Alcohol, the mostly commonly prescribed treatment, can greatly reduce the symptoms of CSD and provide greatly needed relief.  Other effective options include marijuana, cocaine, methamphetamine, PCP, and heroin.  Each regimen has its own specific applications, as each patient's needs are unique, so be sure to consult a Sobriety Prevention Professional before beginning any treatment.  Contact your friendly neighborhood drug dealer for assistance with selecting an appropriate therapy to control your sobriety.  You don't have to suffer from CSD any longer; please get help today before it's too late!

Intentional Ignorance

Why do conservative Christians insist they are being persecuted for their beliefs when they are not allowed to shove them down everyone else's throats?  Most critical thinkers merely ignore the ranting of blind faith fanatics because they have already realized there is no point in responding.  They know it is nearly impossible to have a rational conversation with a person so fiercely entrenched in illogical reasoning, but enough is enough!  There is no reason I should be subjected to personal attacks and patronizing remarks about my allegedly perverse life of sin from a person who has never bothered to investigate any philosophy or avenue of thought other than what he is told. 

There is a world of difference between having faith in a higher power and leading an arrogant life of intentional ignorance about most of the world, a world which is supposedly immoral and doomed to Hell.  It is inherently essential that we be convinced of the absolute truth and validity of our personal beliefs, or they would not be beliefs at all.  However, this certainly does not justify or excuse forcing one's personal beliefs on another person who simply is not interested, and is indeed offended by the unwanted condescension.  No matter how genuinely the believer fears for the fate of my soul, he must still respect my rights in this life by keeping his opinions to himself.