I’m anti-secular and I don’t mean in the simple religious sense but in a deep spiritual context that involves the entire physical universe and reality as we know it. I truly believe that science cannot even begin to fathom or comprehend just how beautifully supernatural our waking reality is. Our entire Earth and all creation is full of countless intelligences. Rocks, trees; anything composed of matter/atoms are intelligent. I believe many Native nations had a scientific and intricate knowledge of this but the Western Vulture has it all backwards…
As I get older I realize that what is written and recorded on the web becomes immortal thanks to projects like the Wayback Machine that record the internet in real time (billions upon billions of pages) as the ages pass by. Using this tool I can look back on my journal and see the way it looked back in 2003, or 2010. It’s PURE time travel! It is incredible and serves as a way to preserve our history and humanity during the passing of the internet from the present and into the future. So what I’m saying is, It’s really important to blog and write and keep doing it because it’s not in vein. The internet is becoming a permanent book. It’s a daily log that can be preserved as a historical record.
Google, Wayback Machine and try it out. This gets me thinking that it’s time to start writing again, and bring back what’s important – stories and experiences…
How do you show contempt for someone in such a satisfying way as not to start hating them? I don’t know, but I’m very angry. For now, I’ve got the the sun-baked shadows in Moab to keep me calm and focused. An air-conditioned hotel reminds me of the lavish excesses of American civilization; I’m tired of the complexity associated with soothsayers, snake oil salesman, and uninformed minions & consumers of American fat.
Why should I fear saying what’s in my heart without reprisal? I don’t fear. It’s no loss of mine to keep my soul and reject the vanities of reckless stupidly. I’m tired of all this deafening excess of fat-eaters with their hollow sophistication. It’s not art, it’s not beauty. They are killing their souls with their greed. Money & greed, and all these pigs make me grieve. What happened to country simplicity? Did it get lost in the translation of money spending? Some people lose their soul to luxury. Culture is not the heart of greed. Rugged individualists never get offended at the thoughtful witty curve balls that pigs can’t stomach. Pigs are those on the receiving end that get offended at every slightest inconvenience or opinion. These things bring disharmony to my life the same way laziness does.
Words are powerful, and my soul sings a hymn against the pigs while they wine and dine in all their filth. Let me be who I am without trying to kill my spirit with your excesses. Let me discover a love so true, for someone who understands me somewhat… and loves me until the day I die. Please, Creator, deliver me from some of these wretched confines. I dream of beauty. I dream of life. I want peace.
The land speaks to me and I cannot expect much from uninformed masses, except to keep teaching those that will listen. For the pigs, I’ll let them be, and I will let myself be reborn. I don’t know how to get away from it, them? If I knew my heart wouldn’t break again and again, I could return to my roots but I am lost, innocent, confused, betrayed because of my kindness. I’m learning that being kind leaves one to be exploited. Lonely are those who are sincere in a charlatan empire.
With faith and hope, the Creator guides me in the desert. In the town of Moab, all things are bustling in the oven of arches, cliffs, cloud and shadow. The beauty is stark and untamed. I just wish I could be as eternal as the geological landscapes and canyons but give me true love for a short while for someone I can trust. An unconditional-untamed love could tame a fiery heart like mine.