Fighting Gods

She laid in my arms,

drain and dried by the glowing moon and its gravity.

We knew we shouldn’t be doing what we were.

We knew this all would have to be repaid by some future selves.

There will be cleaving and bloodshed on that day,

when we are not as young and vulnerable,

when we are not as uncertain about these mysterious hearts

and this powerful and urgent need of warm and able flesh.

She said this is real life though, you and I

and I thought those words were perfect.

Perfect.

This is real life.

And even though we were spending out of a debt in our souls,

and that it would have to one day be repaid with honesty,

honesty and openness and forgiveness to ourselves,

and to each other, this thing is real.

It is human.

There is no dancing.

There is no cryptic speech.

There is no question about reciprocation.

Only past and present brokenness between two lives.

She was falling asleep on me,

and with an intermittent waking said

it feels like we are fighting the gods here.

Maybe we are fighting God I replied,

but she was already asleep again.

Yes, I will have to tell my future wife about her,

about us.

One day.

We, who in the dying days of our innocence,

still chose to fight gods

and God.

Many Many Small and Tiny Things

The Coast Highway is loud at the intersection of Oak Street because there is no stoplight. There is a walkway however, one that gives immediate permission to any walker wanting to cross, but it certainly doesn’t stop traffic for very long. Long enough though, for the drivers to be annoyed in their German and Italian and English chariots. They accelerate quickly because of those lost precious seconds and it is angry. Then there’s the diesel engines and the motorcycles decibels. The beach is nice down there at Oak, well, nice enough anyway, and in the summer and weekends the people park by my window or up the street where the parking is free and walk down the steps to the sand, all of them wearing wearing over-sized sunglasses, carrying over-sized beach bags, laughing in over-sized laughter. At night across the street, the sound of the Sandpiper is depressing and shameless and the people move awkwardly to a lifeless music, hoping to be young again. Its all a joke though, the place has only about 6 beers, all of them domestic, and nothing on tap. The Persians and the Arabs (I don’t know which, I’ve never talked to them) seem fit to smoke and dance and play music on my head every time I sit to write and that’s when it the loneliest. Yes, its loneliest when they’re dancing drunk on my head and yes its loneliest when the diesels roar and yes its loneliest on the weekends and in summer and on those depressing stools across the street. I am loneliest when I sit upon this sandy rock and watch the sun fall into ocean, while the couples hold each other as they pass, while the families do family things, while the ugly birds do ugly things, making ugly tracks in the ugly sand, as the abandoned cliff mansions watch over us, abandoned in the cliffs because its October. When its low tide, sometimes I can see the rocks in the breaks, but only when the sea is far away, near China perhaps. Even though its right there, just right there in front of me, the water is flat and hollow and vacant and dead and that’s when I feel the loneliness of beaches, at the very place where some great expansive thing comes together to meet the many, many small and tiny things.

These Times are Changing Faster Than the People

There isn’t a free table in this buttoned-up courtyard tonight

and few open chairs.

Somehow, I am drawn to this old man

smoking pipe, wearing a scarf and hat of the old Soviet bloc.

I stand nearby, looking blankly

as the waiters

and the lovers

and the homosexuals

and the wannabes

and the plump couples

and the white collars

and the beggars

and all the ghosts of the square

continue bustling,

moving through things and people,

being invisible and nervous.

It is an anxious night

one that speaks loud without thinking,

each voice raising over the other, adding to the din,

all of us terrified of solitude.

The empty chair moves.

Its his foot,

so I sit.

He pushes the ashtray my way.

I put my hands up, declining subtly.

Some cappuccino comes.

He’s having coffee.

I button up because of the breeze,

open a book, but do not read it.

He smokes his pipe,

has a little notepad and pen, takes little notes,

and we don’t make much eye contact.

Time is changing faster than the people he says

And we are all trying to catch up I say

Hmm.

Moments pass.

Do you have any kids he asks

No. You?

I had a son, but he died.

I’m sorry.

Don’t be. It was he who decided to see the world. Go to war. Find God. I wanted him to go. He had too.

Did he find Him?

Find who?

Find God?

I don’t know. I hope so.

We did not say much after that.

He smoked his pipe.

I had another cappuccino.

And another.

Before he left, he said something like they will never catch up,

threw some money on the table,

and punctuated it with ever.

He disappeared through the ghosts, with the courtyard pulsating on.

Lunch Pails on Beams at 1000 Feet

One thing about the Socialists,

they kept their art in secret stores,

like wheat,

keeping their masters poor and hungry

eating rice

until the hour good

to open the chamber door

That kind of thing makes for great art

the greatest actually

Some Americans like these Chinese masters,

and buy up all these Socialist secrets,

secrets held back by mighty fortress walls

those walls patrolled by tanks

and something else.

These Americans know something the rest of us don’t.

I have grown to admire him, that Chinese Master:

devoted

prudent

diligent

poor in spirit;

he loves his family

and his village.

he’s not a slave-driver yet

he’s not a whore yet

yet

The Macedonian loved the desert jewel

The Centurion, those oiled Greek hills

The Vandal, those cities of Romantic pearl

The Norseman, those soft wet island monasteries

The Redcoat, those sunsets round the earth

The Yank, all that was British

and something more.

Plundering gods, naming them different.

This is the stuff of nations.

If I was an investing man

it would be in American folk art.

Western art,

cowboys and ranges and desolate Rockies,

eastern seaboard shores too and solitary boats

and those old scenes of the New York City skyline

black and white, cuffed pants

lunch pails on beams at 1000 feet

That’s what they’ll want

lunch pails on beams at 1000 feet

the Socialists out east will want those things were once were,

but are no longer

My land, beautiful and gluttonous,

it will not last forever

When the Devil Comes to Buy Your Soul

Late in autumn 2009

the devil came and said what price your soul son?

I was 26

Thinking how preposterous the question,

I told him I do not know

I had never really thought about it

Maybe half a million a year, I’m not sure

(I mean, who thinks how much a single soul?)

He said that is nonsense. when I come back,

have a price

He’s right, that devil.

I should have had a price in mind before autumn,

2009,

at 26.

This is the first rule of business, my son:

When the devil comes to buy your soul,

have a price.

The Invisible Age

I.

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite season. In the old days, we would come up from Houston to the woods of East Texas to visit our kin. We would bypass those dying little towns, stopping where we always stopped – to eat and to shit – continuing on to our little small one that was just a tad larger than the rest. This time of year, the lampposts and streetlights hang Christmas decorations that glitter like silver, shaped in bells and reindeer and snowmen and snowflakes. Its like that in little towns.  We would eat until sleep, watch football, sleep more, wake and go watch a film.  The theatre was always crowded.  The following day, we visit more kin, eat the same stuff we ate the day before, only colder, and talk about ailments and Christmas. I would mainly listen; listen to those Texas small towns, perpetually behind the ages, where they always want to be I think.

In the past, they were okay, being American, but it cannot said anymore.

Being American is no longer safe.

Watching the past as it is happening is a fascinating thing, and for a boy maybe the most fascinating thing of all. I would watch time going backward over Thanksgiving and, even as a young kid, marvel.

II.

Now, we no longer go to the woods of East Texas and those small Texas towns. Kin we used to see have all moved to the suburbs of Dallas,near my mother. My grandmother is in a nursing home and some others are dead. Now the day is split between two families and we stay in the suburbs, and I like it almost as much. I say almost as much, because things are always more Romantic in the look back.

III.

I am relatively quiet around family, outside the nucleus that is. It was like this as a child too. When we do not live life consistently together, there isn’t much to say after the love-work-life gaps have been filled. So much happens on a weekly basis, I wouldn’t even know where to start if I were asked to outline a year. So, I usually don’t. I do a lot of listening though. This is my favorite season, because here I keep a finger on the heartbeat of everyone else, and my flimsy nation, flimsy on stilts of ice.

They say the planet is getting warmer.

IV.

The coming age, I’m convinced, will crush all of this and all the other things that I know and love. It will crush this season and the land and everyone in it. The old ways of doing things, the ways of our parents, and their parents before, that which will still hang our hope, that which we are trying to still envision, covers us now in sticky tar and we dry in the afternoon sun. After the Invisible Age has crushed us, it will light us on fire. I’m convinced of this.  It will be as in the Coliseum.  There, thieves, Christians and derelicts were set on fire to light the games.  Entertainment for the masses.  We call them all mad now and close our ears as Rome calls out to us.

The Indians of the plains and their ancient ways were never supposed to last.  They are calling out to us too.

One cannot live around the oasis without fear of the desert people forever.

When humans have no reason to change, they will not; this is nothing new.

Instead they allow themselves to be eaten by the matty rats, then are helpless as they’re slaughtered by the desert people.  Then the rats return.

The Invisible Age has been aging slowly, like good whiskey,

as it has since the beginning of evil men.

Its a strong drink now, a strong man too, having eaten all his children:

wheat, boats, iron, computers.

Like Kronos, there is nothing left to consume.

When the Invisible Age is fully revealed, it is already too late.

V.

Flying back to California, light wispy clouds move under us and we are unaffected. I can’t see the ground, though, its there. Most of the people are sleeping since its a night flight.  Even after all the flying I do, I still don’t trust the pilots or the plane.  Soon, we will be going through those clouds and everyone who was asleep will wake and many will pretend to still be asleep. There is a beauty about the ground, about the city there, glittering in the dark.  Its as if the moon shattered and fell fast and what’s left are these smouldering little shards, looking peaceful. If you are prepared for it, fear is a powerfully capable force.  Capable to change entire lives quickly.  Souls too, but that is for another day.  The captain says there’s thick clouds in Orange County, and that its raining. This is always an odd thing. I’d like very much to see my beach on a rainy and terrible day, to see Oak Street that way, knowing that I am missing nothing with the absence of sun. When that happens, I will write for hours unhindered and all night too.  Then I will cook something hardy, and maybe go over to her house to watch a shitty movie later. No one will be on the roads, for here they’re scared of rain. I will have the whole highway to myself, and the wet beach, and the night. I will wave to a brave soul if they pass and they will wave back. I may fall asleep on her couch. I may not. I may watch the rain stream down the window as she falls asleep in my arms. I may not.

They say the world is getting warmer.

Though,

not as they say.

Because of the Houses

My state,

my corner of it anyway,

is brownest and deadest in October.

And its not because of what has changed,

but what hasn’t.

Changed, that is.

In October she’s really dry,

like kerosene,

and catches fire easily.

Everyone talks about it.

Over scones and coffee we talk about it.

And when she’s on fire,

we watch from our corner cafes,

impatient,

tapping our feet and talking restless;

we have the best firefighters in the world though,

and they won’t let it happen.

They won’t let it burn, that is.

Its because of the houses.

The mounds and the hills and the mountains look like aging beasts,

tired and sloppy.

I watch them coming out of sand and scrub and rock,

all of them trying to stand

but too tired,

unable.

They all have rounded backs,

surfaced like the moon.

They have many arms,

or are those legs?

You say What the hell is your point?

I said I didn’t know,

that I didn’t really have one.

I just feel sad I guess,

sad like an outsider feels.

About these hills.

About autumn in Southern California,

when things don’t change,

because we won’t let them.

So Why Economics?

Economics is not about goods and services; it is about human choice and action.

Ludwig von Mises Human Action

In equal significance  to humanity’s search for meaning is man’s relationship to and interaction with money. The question of what are we gonna do with this shit? may be even more fundamental that man’s search for God; if he is starving, enslaved to his own desires, or overburdened with work to feed his family (or to keep up with his neighbours), it leaves little time for him to meditate and reflect on his life and his relationship to his Creator. Money, trade, buying and selling, business, work, charity, and consumption affect every man and woman each day. Simply waking up in the morning and eating cereal costs some money, as does washing one’s face or taking a dump. When looked at it this way, economics is choice.

As children, we work in school for 14 to 16 years to get admitted into a good college or secure some kind of job. If we go to college, it will cost us another 4-16+ years of school to secure that good job or start that career. We oftentimes work 50 to 60 years in that job or in many jobs, oftentimes at a minimum of 40 hours a week. However, fewer and fewer Americans are able to work any less than this 40-hour standard given the speed and globalization of businesses who now have strong international competitors that work much longer and harder and who never sleep. Factor in transportation time, work travel, email correspondence and the never-ending stress of work that we bring home and we find that the vast majority of our lives and thoughts are spent tethered to and wading through the quandary of money and how to get it. Sadly, few people give money and economics its due respect. Paul said the ‘love of money is the root of all kinds of evils.’ He goes on to say that ‘it is through this craving that some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pangs’, adding to my contention that economic questions may be more fundamental than spiritual ones, or at least detrimental to our faith if neglected. With so much of our lives dedicated to money, both the making and the spending thereof, it is imperative that we humans look at those green paper rectangles in our pockets and the ever-changing numbers at the ATM machine with a proper perspective. Most people have no idea where money comes from, how it is made, that it is made, what gives it legitimacy, who benefits most from its creation, who really controls it, the effect of this creation and how its discriminate spending affects our lives as individuals. Paul says that love of the thing is the root of all kinds of evils, but I add that ignorance and a misunderstanding of money will inevitably lead to its enslavement of us, or rather, our complicit allowance of its slavery. So this is why I am probably going to dedicate a large part of my life its study. I say probably, because I am still a young mind-changer.

Understanding money will lead to revelations of myriad kinds. You want to get to the bottom of anything? Follow the money. You want to know about power? Follow the money. You want your eyes to be opened to a world that only an ‘elite’ few know and control? Follow the money. Follow the damn money. You want deeper knowledge of the human condition? Understand money. You want to be financially free? Free from extraneous want? Free from enslavement? Free from manipulation? Free from ignorance? Understand money. Understanding money, and moreover, the intellectual and spiritual practice that it takes to make this journey, is be the most important intellectual pursuit that one can endeavor. Is it complex? Yes its complex. It is exceedingly complex. And there is reason for that. If the powers that control the money can keep the masses completely perplexed with layer upon layer and jargon upon jargon and law upon law, while speaking in a language only they can speak, they can enslave the masses by forcing them to unknowingly work for them in our ignorance. Because most of this stuff is too confusing to fathom, people don’t even try. In turn, we entrust most of the derivatives of their work and toil (in the form of debt-backed green paper) over to supposed financial experts who oftentimes know just a little more about the stuff than we. Sadly, the vast majority of the ‘financial experts’ out there are unwitting tools used by the establishment to further their plans for mass servitude. The financial planners are just trying to put food on the table too, just like you and I, and we need to keep that in mind.

I will attest that every modern war, every political movement, every law, every tax, every ideology, all nations, all hate, all self-interest, all fear, all bondage, all ignorance and the vast majority of each individual decision that we make has much, if not all, to do with economics and money, or should I say, currency (the fiat, paper stuff).  Money is a rival god, and it wars for the throne of our hearts. It wants to take the predominant place of our lives. Few people actually think about the physical, spiritual and mental impact that money has on us. Money is nothing really, it only represents the vehicle to attain our endless desire. Economics is the exercise of a free will endowed by a Creator.  Money’s a car (or a boat, bike).

Is economic and financial education difficult? Of course, we have already talked about it.  But I believe that without this pursuit, we have no excuse to complain about our current station in life. Its an arduous undertaking, but also a noble one. And with the education, we can weather any storm that comes our way; the educated make money whether the market is up or down. When we choose to complain rather than act on that unease, we as people and individuals are headed down the road to socialism. Monetary ignorance multiplies ignorance in everything that it has dealings with (i.e. everything), and the perpetual spread of ignorance is the great inheritance of my generation and those subsequent. In an environment with so much ignorance, misinformation is easily spread to a brainwashed populace. Totalitarian regimes rise out of such environments. Often, the people don’t realize the dictator has taken over before he has already consolidated his power. They voted him in.  Education is the key to personal liberation. But we know this already, right?

The good part, education is cheap and/or free, at least in the form of books or websites or documentaries. Street smart and personal pursuit of knowledge is the only sustainable way to learn over your lifetime.  The Internet is an obvious place to start. So is the library. So is the bookstore. So is every transaction that you make or watch others make. Conversation is cheap too. Actually, that’s free.

The Problem with American Libertarianism

The Libertarian mind is being awakened in America. While many libertarian advocates point plainly to the reemergence of this forgotten American spirit, droves of Americans are inadvertently becoming libertarians without even realizing. Simply by sitting on the couch and watching the political arena from their living and bedrooms, people are becoming increasingly disgruntled by the political back-and-forth of congress that so commonly seem to be a silly and poorly acted stage performance. These days, the arch-villains and saints of both sides are less convincing in their theatrics and their supposed partisan distrust, especially in the fog of growing unease about the economic rebound. They are fooling a smaller portion of the masses and as a result, many people are finding themselves to be apolitical by default.

While I personally disdain the many labels we humans think we must find our identity in, I have to say that for humanity’s sake, I fall almost exactly in line with the Libertarian camp, or the Classical Liberal one, however they are called. Additionally, while I also advocate strict Constitutionalism, rule of law and the practice of libertarian virtues, I do not think America is ready to return to its heritages of liberty – socially, economically, politically, and spiritually – at least not yet. We have been asleep for so long that nearly all our faculties have atrophied to a point that borders on total paralysis. But, since this revolutionary spirit is being rediscovered whether we are actively seeking it or not, and whether They like it or not, we have to examine what liberty is, and the individual and collective responsibilities that we will have exercise in order for this thing to work and maybe, how we can start to make it work.

A Libertarian is one who advocates individual rights and minimizing the role of the state – economically, socially and politically (and as mentioned above, I add spiritually as well). Broken down, Libertarianism is the belief in liberty, that each person owns their own life (or entrusts it to a higher power), has the right to own their own property and has the right to make their own choices as how to live their life while respecting and observing the rights of others to do likewise. Essentially, this is what we try to teach our kids as parents and as also as teachers from a very young age. This Libertarian ideology applies strict restrictions on government size, power and interference in the lives of ‘its’ citizens. Along with this is the belief that one should not initiate force on others, either politically or militarily. The only defense for war is if another country or power attempts to coerce or hinder one’s exercise of liberty. Additionally, Libertarians are unlike the two ruling American partisan groups in that they strongly support capitalism and free trade, while respecting an individual’s lifestyle and choices, as long as it doesn’t infringe upon the freedoms of others. Libertarians abhor and are in direct ideological opposition to dictatorships, socialism, fascism and any other type of authoritarian regime. Going further, Libertarians believe in the power and potential of the sovereign individual and that he or she was given a brain and a body by God, to think and do and make their own rational and knowledgeable decisions on how to exercise freedom of choice for the betterment of their families and their communities (there was some obvious personal opinion thrown in there).

Thomas Jefferson said that ‘that government is best which governs least.’ With this view sitting beside him while he penned the great Libertarian manifesto, Declaration of Independence, Jefferson left this legacy upon the American people thereafter. While Americans learn about the constitution in school and believe it to be the bedrock of our freedom and prosperity, the vast majority of people do not realize how far we have deviated from that original standard. Even when people do see the depth we are in, many think the way out to be too difficult and that one person cannot make a real impact or lasting change. This, of course, is what the power elites want us to believe, as they continue to rape the Constitution and Bill of Rights, while enslaving and exploiting the minds and actions of the common American. The power elites, the money guys, the super-rich – whatever you want to call them – have been working patiently for centuries to get us to where we are now. Their myriad potions have had strong effect over the masses, making us either blind, ignorant, uneducated, medicated, castrated or all of the above. Thankfully, there has remained a working revolutionary spirit, American individualism, Libertarianism, in certain citizens, though until as of late they were thought to be dangerous or radical.

The problem that I have with a growing Libertarian movement, or the return to our revolutionary roots, is that the masses are not personally, physically, intellectually, spiritually, socially and communally ready for such a revolution. Because so much passing of our daily lives is in the form of medication, be it sports or consumerism or busy work or pop culture or media or drugs or gambling or sex or hate or whatever the opiate, it will be hard for the average American to purge himself of those opiates, let alone see them for what they really are: distractions that keep us fat, lazy, thoughtless, servile and gullible to the difficult reality that is unfolding before our eyes. Personal liberty is a glorious thing, but it requires much thinking, study, discipline, courage and individual responsibility to be practiced effectively, traits that are seldom exercised in our lives, if ever. In order for liberty and Libertarianism to work, the stock of our country must first find some reason to get off its collective couch, get away from our collective busy work, and unplug from the Internet and other electronic devices, all the while trying to stop the flow of various barbiturates that plague our individual senses each day, those barbiturates differing from person to person. I don’t know what will drive people to do this; if anyone knows, please tell the rest of us. Perhaps we should do it for our children. Or if we do not have own children, maybe the next generation. Or our schools. Or our spouses (and yes that means you, castrated American male). Or our ageing parents. Or our greater family sphere. Or the community. Or our friends. Or our colleagues. Or our churches. Or our civic and social organizations. Or our cities. Or our towns. Or our states. Or maybe the country. Or maybe the Western civilization. Or maybe the poor and oppressed. Or maybe the world. Or maybe God. Whatever that thing that needs our rational, educated, experienced mature adult leadership, we need to let it wake us up and drive us.

Once we are wakened from our slumber, education is the next step. This is our ‘spiritual leaning’ process. Hopefully, this will teach individuals to think and how to make their own balanced, rational decisions. This is a difficult step, like learning how to walk after a long coma, and many people will either be lead astray to ridiculousness, lies, or irrelevance and give up in the face of fear, insecurities and aversion to hard work. Hopefully we will not get too discouraged with the over-stimulation and the paralysis that comes with too many choices on where and how to go. This is where leadership and mentorship come into play. Once we are educated, or at least once we see the value of education and are starting down that road where we begin to think for ourselves, then we must seek others to communicate and commune with, in an environment that will allow us to flourish, encourage and be encouraged. This step is crucial and I think it to be the most difficult hurdle of those who are trying to wake others up (including myself). Because we no longer have a sense of community in our ‘communities’, the infrastructure itself now of being greatly flawed, the challenge of where and how to start such interactions appear to be much harder than simply talking with your neighbor. The Internet, my chosen vehicle to make contact with the like-minded, is an effective tool to spread ideas to many people quickly, but it does not go far enough. All web-based media communication must be tempered with face-to-face communion. Once again, this is a lofty and idealistic proposition to give to the generations of Americans that have been raised to make false realities and identities behind a computer screen. I think if we can use the Internet to establish a foothold in the minds of the masses, then use it to set up groups of like-minded individuals, balanced with the real-life construction of communities that meet regularly, who share ideas and experience, who travel and talk about the world around them, who eat and play and explore together, who do all kinds of life together, then we are well on our way out of serfdom. From there, like-minded communities should get together and exchange ideas and all of the aforementioned things, all with the intent of waking others up to the ideas and virtues of liberty, personal responsibility, education, shared experience, and community. ‘No man is an island’ and life is not meant to be done alone. In my opinion, well-educated, passionate, thinking communities are the answer to many things not mentioned here. From there, stuff like political action, economic and business activity, social reconstruction, intellectual and artistic expression, and human progress spurred on by personal empowerment is bound to follow. This is the empowerment that made the nation strong. This empowerment is what the power elites fear which is why they encourage and foster a culture that is compartmentalized, segregated, isolated, insecure, ignorant and medicated.

The problem is, being lazy and self-serving is inherent to our biology. While we can be beautifully tuned athletic beings, it is strongly held scientific belief that our bodies primarily are a survival mechanism, averse to too much physical work. There is evidence in this. When we exercise to vigorously, we stand the risk of getting injured. Likewise, when we exercise too often, relative to our current fitness levels, we overtax the systems of our bodies, eventually leading to degradation, hormone suppression and a host of other ailments. In the old days when famine was unmitigated, those that survived where the ones that were metabolically slower than their high calorie-consuming brethren. Those that could store body fat and conserve energy lived while the lean muscles of their fit brothers and sisters whittled them away to nothing at a much faster rate. The result, the fat-assed lazy loafers passed all their ‘hardy’ genes onto us. I think we see this over-simplified biological adaptation play out in our lives today, mentally, physically, socially. When given the chance, most people will opt to simply veg out and fall into a thoughtless hypnotic state of physical inactivity vice exercising, reading, thinking and writing, especially when there is a culture pressure of “did you see American Idol last night?” involved. The power elites know the work-averse human nature and they, along with the media, the government and the corporations, provide simple, culturally acceptable mediums and environments to allow humans to ‘exercise’ this option. Basically, Libertarian values, and even liberty itself, is in opposition to our biological nature, at least to an extent. Though I believe there is hope; hope derived from all those things that make humans beautiful: selflessness, humility, courage, love; those choices that we make in spite of our humanity.

The vast majority of Americans are non-thinking, drugged busybodies. We have to ask who is at fault for this. I think that the cultural and social powers of the air have been so successful at influencing each successive generation that we have not inherited a viable alternative to the way that the most Americans live. We cannot expect our children to adopt something that they have not been exposed to or taught, especially living in a culture that has preached the opposite of liberty. So how can I or anyone else who loves liberty and the potentiality of humans blame the masses for not being different from the way they are currently? No, I don’t blame them, I blame us. I blamed the liberated. I blame us who have been given the truth but who are too afraid or paralyzed to spread the word in fear of ridicule, alienation or conviction of lunacy. I blame myself, which I hereby seek to rectify.

We have a long way to go and many people to reach before we can hope to impact the power centers of the world and affect the general masses. The road to liberty is a challenging one that will force us to reject the selfish human desires for comfort and thoughtless medication. We can only be roused by love: love of freedom, love of individuals, love of our families, love of our communities, love of our country, love of our world, love of God, love of truth. If a movement of freedom is to begin, it must be rooted in love. Love will wake us, and it will drive us. With love there is passion and with passion, a sense of urgency. For love we will educate ourselves and others, by love will our communities be built, and with love we will destroy the powers of the air that have enslaved us and who seek to dominate us in ways unimaginable. Because I think that love is the one thing they have overlooked, or deemed a non-issue. In the coming years, we will need communities bound up in love more than we ever have. I believe that Liberty and personal sovereignty will arise from these communities. But then you ask, “well what is love?” and that, my friend, is for another day.