In the past couple of months, because of everything that has been happening in my world, I’ve been thinking a lot about who I am, and how I can be useful to the American society in its current state, in a way that is also useful to me, and that respects me and my function.
I love freedom. I really, really, love freedom. The real kind. Not the ‘let me grab all the chocolates and you can go fuck yourself’ kind of freedom, but the one where I am free to be me, and you are free to be you. And we are all trying our best not to be idiots.
I know – although it is easy to forget in our crazy, hectic, robotic culture – that love is what ultimately drives us. That no matter how much we lie and how much havoc we wreak, we all come to a place of undeniable reality where lies melt, and where raw love reigns.
Some people get there early on due to the rare luck of earning wisdom quickly, some people get there once they get sick or experience great loss, and some people wait until they are almost ready to die – but we can’t hide from love forever.
In our world that is a mix of fear-based theological theories that have left a bloody aftertaste in many modern cultures, and materialistic fantasies rooted in severe sensory deprivation (I am completely convinced of the latter – even though I know that the ‘prophets’ of the linear, materialistic worldview will eat dead flies with their hands before they admit to having a problem with their senses), respecting the free spirit is a tough thing to stand by.
And gee, it is difficult to love freedom in today’s America because massive fear-mongering, something that has been dripping on our brains drop by drop, every day and every night ever since 9/11, has finally gotten to everybody. People are fucking stressed, and people just want somebody to save them from the villains, whoever the villains of the day are.
Let me tell you a story about the impact of stress on human body. There was a time when I was studying marketing, to see what smart people have to say about that. I lurked around a lot. I studied clean, preppy marketing systems, black hat marketing, different things. And there was one guy selling a methodology of how to effectively bully people into buying shit. A fairly despicable human being, in my opinion, but very successful at his business. Now, with me and my ideals, I had ZERO intention of leaning from him. I was absolutely positive that I didn’t wanna. One hundred percent sure. And then I bought his tutorial, against my will, on a whim, after listening to him for five minutes and getting incredibly stressed out over the imaginary world in which without his tutorial, I would die a loser. It happened very quickly. And then, a minute after I bought the stupid thing, in the state of great surprise, I asked myself what the fuck just happened, and asked for a refund. But in that moment of being very stressed, I acted like a zombie.
The takeaway from this story is that we are all capable of being manipulated, no matter how simple, sophisticated, smart, well-educated, or practical we may be. That shit works on the body. The important thing is get back to your senses. We all do stupid things – but they don’t have to last!!
So, me. No matter how I slice it, anywhere I go, I end up as a rebel. It’s been this way ever since I was a toddler. I can’t hide from it. At some point, I actively tried to be ‘normal’ – life kicked me out of that role with fireworks that hurt my ass for a long time. But for a rebel, I am awfully peaceful. I don’t like twisting people’s arms, I believe that everybody is entitled to finding one’s truth on one’s own terms because, only then, it is real.
Nobody wants dumb obedient slaves. Well, some people do but I get off on the real thing, in everything.
So, what am I rebelling against? If I have to make it real simple, I am rebelling against disrespecting the spirit.
People are capable of creating beautiful worlds and building balanced communities when empowered by the spirit. Without that respect, we fight with each other like dumb zombies (just look outta the window).
American culture does not respect the spirit at all. At all. Like, not even a little bit. As a foreigner, that is one of the first things you notice. Everything is glitter, everything is entertainment, unmonetized beauty for the sake of human happiness is considered worthless.
And it hurts.
The issue is not exclusive to America–but somehow, maybe due to our cult of efficiency, the problem of turning beauty into a cheap whore, is particular putrid here.
I have spent a lot of time thinking about its origins. It bugs me. The conveyor-like rat race is unfair to the people who have never seen anything else. How does one learn how to love if all one knows is how to run, run, run for money?
If we go way way back… The first Europeans who came here centuries ago and modeled the country after their own needs and after their own psychological make, did not respect the spirit (some more, some less, but overall, no). They were in the middle of their own moment of existential separation (hence the need to run, run, run away), and they spread the scream of the soul around, wherever they went. If European settlers truly respected the spirit, they would have respected the cultures that were so generous to them, they would have been grateful for the hospitality, and they would not have come up with fantastical ideas about their own religious and civilizational superiority over the indigenous. But Europeans only respected their own ideas and inventions. And because the pain of the separated soul is so strong (for obvious reason – your fantasy world is ALL you have), they imposed the pain on everybody else with the passion of a maniac (if you have no idea what I am talking about, read about the sadistic atrocities done to the indigenous populations… it will chill your bones if you are human).
Result? A lovely industrial society where rivers are dirty, people are out of shape and lonely, and children are on antidepressants. There is logic to everything. Maybe today’s alienation and environmental woes are karma. Maybe we need to pay homage to the people who have been so unfairly brutalized – and to our own ancient ancestors who carried so much knowledge about the world, knowledge forgotten over the centuries. Maybe it will help us all heal.
Maybe we need to admit to the importance of our emotions, of our relationships, of nature, and of the general mystery of the world. Relying on the mystery lifts a burden off one’s shoulders.
And of course, since we have our nature no matter how hard the culture tries to murder it, each of us tries. We try our best. And if you ask me, I believe that American people seek the spirit desperately, including in many strange places. Self-help, mad consumption, irrational love of celebrities and political leaders, good ol’ drugs… We can’t live without the quest for the spirit. We need something.
But in America, we want that something in a familiar format, and on our terms.
Enter me and my quest.
Rebellion against soullessness is necessary if we are to live.
In people’s heads, the only familiar genre of rebellion is ‘shaming the enemy.’ At times, that genre requires great courage, as my dissident friends know. However, yelling is usually reactive. It fixes the consequence but leaves the roots untouched.
I have a dream. My dream is to contribute to the world in which love, forgiveness and creativity are respected. Not just successfully marketed (as marketing is the opposite of healing), but genuinely respected. In other worlds, I want a world in which healing is real, commerce is honest, and female mystery is respected without a squeak.
How do we get there?
Fuck knows. But I am thinking.