Head In The Clouds

The phrase “man with head in the clouds” refers to someone who lacks practicality and is often lost in their own thoughts or imagination. Fair enough, but this is not necessarily a bad thing. Creative minds are often what lead to innovation and progress in various fields. But too much time in the proverbial clouds can lead to neglecting important responsibilities or opportunities, leaving you with not much security to hold on to. It’s a precarious existence.

A man with his head in the clouds is someone who is constantly daydreaming and visualizing different possibilities. He wants out of the present moment by living in imaginary spaces. He may have a great imagination and come up with amazing ideas, but without taking action on them, the ideas remain just that: ideas that fade away like clouds. This is an unfortunate aspect of being a man with his head in the clouds.

Furthermore, a man with his head in the clouds may be seen as unrealistic or impractical by others. They may view him as ungrounded, lazy, irresponsible or too idealistic. This can lead to him being dismissed or overlooked, especially in more structured or traditional environments where practicality and responsibility are valued over creativity. This is why a man with his head in the clouds is often drowning in creditors and irrelevance.

Having one’s head in the clouds can also be seen as a virtue. It is these kinds of people who dream up new inventions, create art, solve problems and make big changes in the world. They see things from a different perspective, generating new ways of thinking and problem-solving. They may also be more attuned to their intuition and emotions, which can lead to greater empathy and understanding of others. Unfortunately, it can also lead to greater levels of depression and despair while living in a society that does not value men who have their head in the clouds.

Being a man with his head in the clouds may have its downsides, but it can also be a source of inspiration and innovation. While it is important to remain grounded and practical at times, we should also value and encourage creativity and imagination. After all, without individuals who dare to have their head in the clouds, everything would just be all the same.

How To Escape A Drama-Filled Society

Living in a drama-filled society can be exhausting and draining for anyone. It’s no secret that drama often causes unnecessary stress, anxiety, confusion, distraction and it can be difficult to escape. But not impossible. There are a few steps you can take to remove yourself from the morass of drama and create a more peaceful, stress-free life.

1. Identify the sources of drama:
   The first step in escaping the drama of your society is to identify its sources. It may be certain friends, family members, or co-workers who create drama. Alternatively, it could be social media or news outlets that stir up emotions and create angst. When you identify the causes of drama, it’s easier to avoid them.
2. Limit your exposure to drama:
   Now that you’ve identified the sources of drama, take steps to limit your exposure to them. For example, if you have a mentally unstable sister who constantly involves herself in your drama thus creating even more drama for yourself, you may need to distance yourself from her or set solid boundaries. Similarly, if social media causes negative emotions or triggers drama, delete the app or take a few days off.
3. Surround yourself with positivity:
   To counteract the negativity and drama of your society, focus on surrounding yourself with positive people who bring you joy and make you feel good about yourself. I realize that positive people can be superficial and dull. This may mean eliminating friends who don’t share your values and interests or making time for self-care activities that lift your mood and counteract all the soul-destroying drama.
4. Practice mindfulness and self-care:
   Mindfulness practices such as meditation and deep breathing can be helpful in reducing stress and anxiety. Self-care activities like taking a hot bath, reading a book, journaling, stretching, cleaning, listening to music, being naked with another human, hanging-out/doing nothing or going for a ponderous walk can also help reduce the impact of deadening drama on your life.
5. Focus on what you can control:
   Finally, remember that while you can’t control the drama in your society, you can control your reactions to it. You may feel like being distracted from everything but focus on the things you can control, such as how much time and energy you devote to drama, and let go of things you cannot control. By taking ownership of your own life, you’ll reduce the impact of drama and create a more peaceful and interesting existence.

Escaping the drama of society takes effort, diligence and discipline but it’s worth it to create a more fulfilling and stress-free existence. By identifying the sources of drama, limiting your exposure to them, surrounding yourself with positivity (that is not superficial or dull), practicing mindfulness and self-care, and focusing on what you can control, you can escape the drama and create a more relaxed living situation for yourself.

The Virtues Of Sitting On A Roof

Sitting on a roof is a simple pleasure that is often overlooked in our fast-paced world. However, it is a practice that offers a variety of benefits that can enhance one’s overall well-being. Here are a few virtues of sitting on a roof that I have been considering.

Firstly, sitting on a roof offers a perspective that is not easily found on the ground. Being elevated allows one to see their surroundings from a different angle, providing a new appreciation for the world around them. One can watch the sun set, gaze at the stars, look at people or simply take in the view of other rooftops. By offering a different perspective, sitting on a roof can help to break the monotony of everyday life and encourage creativity and original thinking.

Secondly, sitting on a roof is a great way to get away from the noise and distractions of modern life. With technology constantly at our fingertips, it can be difficult to escape from the constant buzz of notifications and updates. Sitting on a roof offers a solitary space that allows one to disconnect from these distractions and simply be present in the moment. This can help to reduce stress and increase focus and productivity.

Thirdly, sitting on a roof can encourage social interaction and community. If one lives in a densely populated area or in close proximity to neighbors, it is possible to enjoy the view and company of others from the comfort of the roof. Sitting on a roof can provide an opportunity to connect with others and build a sense of community and shared experience. I have met many passerbys while sitting on a roof.

In addition, sitting on a roof can have physical health benefits. Being in the fresh air and sunshine can boost mood and provide essential vitamin D. Getting on to the roof is also a form of low-impact exercise that can improve cardiovascular health and strengthen the core muscles.

As you can see, sitting on a roof is a simple and enjoyable practice that offers many virtues. The perspective, peace, social connection, and physical health benefits that come with it make it an activity that is worth exploring. It is time to ditch the screens and hustle and take a moment to sit back, relax, and sit on your roof.

Procrastination, The Importance Of Putting Everything Off (Post #415)

“A nice piece of modern contemporary philosophy and contemplation about the way we live our lives in the modern world.” -Tracie Sokoloff

Nothing makes me happier than the complete absence of all obligations. Nothing. To be alone in wide open time and space, free to go and do whatever I want, is the ideal condition for myself to exist within. Free to listen to music, free to write, free to make art, free to fall asleep in my garden, free to go for a long walk, free to drift in whatever direction I get blown in without any concern for time or things that must be done- this is what I consider to be basic human freedom. Human freedom is a basic need that we all share and the more that this basic need goes unmet, the more we experience mental and physical illness. (It is ironic or tragic that in the society we have created, the more this basic need goes unmet the more material and financial gain we often get. This is why in America more people are on psychiatric drugs and suffer various addictions than any other country in the world.)

For close to thirty years now, I have managed to put everything off. As I get older I am becoming more skilled at doing this. Prior to thirty years ago, I still put everything off but I had my parents continually placing in front of me what I was trying to put off. Without anyone forcing my hand, I am able to keep everything away. The difference between myself and most Americans is that I see what is often referred to as procrastination as a very healthy behavior (if done right). In fact, I feel it is necessary to put things off in order to live a life freed from as may obligations as possible. I have always believed that the person who dies with the largest amount of things put off or not taken care off, has lived the fullest life. In a society where a person’s value is in equal measure to the amount of obligations that they have, we must actively engage our ability (which we all have) to put things off, if we want to live free from this often self-made prison.

In order to successfully put things off for as long as possible (in order to live more fully now), it is important to know how to be alone. If an individual is not able to be genuinely alone without anxiety, it will be difficult for he or she (or it) to free themselves from all obligations. Putting things off will be a struggle for the individual who is not able to be alone. By being alone what I mean is the ability to be completely undisturbed by the outside world. To shut the entire outside world out as if it was not even there. When we shut the entire world out, people who want something from us no longer exist. Other people become like trees or clouds in the sky- they are just there, coexisting along with us rather than wanting or demanding something from us or us needing something from them (obligation means to need something from another person or for another person to need something from you). To be free of obligation means to not need anything from others and to not be disturbed or anxious about what others might need from you. This is why being alone is a skill that is crucial for successfully being able to put things off.

The skill of being alone is in great decline in American society. This is one of the most tragic phenomena of our time. The ability to be alone is disappearing in front of our eyes. Individuals can no longer even be alone while sitting on the toilet! Most individuals sit on the toilet with some kind of digital device in their hand. These digital devices (computers, smartphones) serve one fundamental purpose, to prevent people from feeling alone. Most of us can’t handle being alone. We don’t like how it feels. We become uncomfortable and anxious, feel like we are missing out when alone and digital intervention comes to our rescue. This is tragic because the human soul needs to be alone in order to flourish. Less time alone equals less soul and more mechanization (which is what the corporations who sell us these products need and want us to become- mechanized).

The one phenomena that differentiates our period in human history from any other period is that we can now avoid being alone even when we are alone. Our phones and computers are doorways through which the outside world can slip in and fill our aloneness. Most of us voluntarily open up this door for the outside world to come on in when we are alone because we have forgotten how to be alone. Being alone is a skill that requires practice. Once we are constantly interrupting our aloneness by checking our emails, texts, Facebook and Instagram our ability to be alone becomes weaker and weaker until we can not be alone anymore without some sort of distraction present. This is a human tragedy.

If we are not able to shut the outside world out and be fully alone, we will not be successful at freeing ourselves from all obligations. As long as we let the outside world in, even if we manage to put most things off, we will still be tormented by the lingering feeling of all the things we are not getting done. There is no greater waste of time (life) than putting things off while worrying about what we are not getting done. The entire world must be completely shut out, forgotten about or neutralized (meaning everything is just how it should be) in order for a person to successfully put things off. Our day is spent doing exactly what we want to be doing, free of any extraneous concerns or worries, free from the constraints imposed on humans by time. We are fully content and at peace in our aloneness, not worried about what is being left undone or missed out on because we are fulfilled (engaged) in our lives now. This is what it means to be free and the only way to be truly free in our contemporary world is to put everything off.

the three ways of walking with your head

i realize that there are many ways to walk with your head.

those who do not like to be limited in life by only three ways will certainly protest or criticize what i am about to say. so i am saying up front and at the start or in the beginning or before i say anything else- yes, i realize that there are more than three ways to carry your head when walking.

for purposes of this particular discourse i would like to keep things simple, not go too deeply into a kind of exegesis. i only want to write of those things which i know something about. those things i have learned about through living, reading and observing.

obviously those most familiar with introversion, depression, a general disdain for other human beings and the desire to be left alone know about the first way of walking with your head. this way is often referred to as shoegazing in the popular vernacular.

as you may know, shoegazing is an anti-social way of walking with your eyes and head pointed towards the ground.

walking with your head pointed towards the ground is a non-verbal way of communicating to other people that you do not want to be bothered by having to acknowledge them. it is also a non-verbal way of saying that the things you see on the ground are much more interesting than the people in front of you. this is why the world often looks upon shoegazers in the negative.

walking with your head turned towards the ground is not just the preferred way of walking for those who are anti-social or do not want to be bothered but it is also a way that philosophers and poets have chosen to walk for years. even Aristotle is known for his writings on the virtues of not running in public and the intellectual benefits of walking through town with your eyes and head focused on the ground.

obviously, those who choose this style of walking are generally the kind of person who is lost within themselves, stuck within the constant churning of their frontal cerebral hemispheres. they are so consumed by self-centered thinking that they can not and do not want to be bothered to lift their head, make eye contact with a passing stranger and say “hello.” those who walk around with their head focused towards the ground might as well be walking around with a sign around their neck that says: “I do not like you. Do not bother me. Leave me the hell alone.”

the second way of walking with your head is a mode that is preferred by extroverts and those who are more concerned with social status. a concern with social status means that a person cares about how the outside world (neighbors, government, family, friends, strangers) perceives them.

this way of walking with your head can also be popular amongst those who generally want to feel connected to members of their human species either through friendliness or lust.

keeping the head, eyes and nose focused on what is straight ahead or in front of a person does imply a certain quality of confidence and openness. a person who walks down the street with their head pointed straight ahead is saying to the world: “I am confident enough to handle whatever comes my way.” generally they are not afraid to confront whatever ends up right in front of them, whereas the shoegazer prefers to avoid or ignore the outside world (the shoe gazer prefers the inner life of the mind).

the degree of confidence that is implied by someone who walks with their head focused straight ahead also often implies that the person is successful in their lives. that life has not beaten their head down towards the ground (yet).

this is why the world is more inclined to put their trust and faith in those who walk with their head, eyes and nose upright and focused on what is directly in front of them.

just look at videos of a people like Donald Trump or Al Sharpton (both of whom i find deeply contestable and repulsive). you will never see them walking around with their heads pointed towards the ground (unless it is raining or snowing). they are always walking with their head pointed towards what is right in front of them. they mine as well be wearing a sign around their neck that says: “I am great. I fear nothing. Envy me. Trust me. You are a fool.”

this is ironic because even though this way of walking with your head does imply confidence, often times these tend to be some of the most non-confident people. this is why they force themselves to walk with their head up and looking straight ahead.

they are literally wearing a mask.

for those who walk with their head up because they are wanting to make contact with other humans for either friendly or lustful purposes, walking with your head this way is a wise approach. when the head and eyes are pointed straight ahead it is easier to make intimate contact with other human beings. this is a fact.

this form of walking with your head can also be used to objectify another person if you are attracted to them. it is easier to send a message to another person with your eyes than with your words that you would love to get them naked and perform all kinds of erotic sexual acts with them.

rarely does this strategy work for those who are not already attractive but it is the most effective head posture for those who are horny and on the prowl for sex.

for many extroverted or open hearted people, keeping the head focused on what is straight in front of them is a very satisfying way of connecting with the outside world. however, the same way of carrying your head, with your eyes opened and focused straight ahead, can be used to communicate disdain towards other as well (this does not happen to often though).

before ending, i would like to introduce one final way of walking with your head. this is a way that is not seen often but can be glimpsed more regularly in bohemian or hippy parts of town.

often this way of walking with the head is chosen by mystics, spiritualists, religious people and those who are mentally insane.

sometimes it is very hard to tell the difference.

this way of walking with your eyes, nose and head pointed straight up to the sky implies that you are much more interested in things above than in things below or straight ahead. those who walk with their heads this way have very little interest in things of this world. instead they are more interested in the psychedelic objects that hang around in the sky.

some are also interested in apparitions or aliens, which they believe are always lurking around just above our heads. some of these individuals have a deeper connection with these apparitions and aliens than they do with any living human being.

this is why some of these people who walk with their heads this way can often be seen praying in public or talking with someone “out there.” because of this it is difficult to know if the person who is walking with their head pointed towards the sky is mentally insane, enlightened or on a cell phone.

it is not that those who walk with their head pointed towards the sky are not interested the human wolrd. many of these individuals have a vast love for everything that exists in this world- people, plants and everything else. but these people are often filled with so much love that as a result (and often against their will) their heads get lifted towards the sky.

a lot of Egyptian art portrays certain highly revered individuals with their heads pointed towards the sky. more medieval art portrays those with their heads pointed towards the sky as either being mentally insane or persecuted and as a result screaming out to God for help.

it was not until the time of Victorian painting that those who ruminate with their heads pointed towards the sky were portrayed in a dignified and revered way.

in our current time, those who walk with their heads pointed towards the sky seem to be objects of confusion and concern for all the rest of us who are more attached to day-to-day human preoccupations.

i realize that this is a very brief discourse on the three ways of walking with your head. there is no doubt that a much longer book can be written about this subject, however i just do not have the time to be writing a book.

as a result of the demands of a carrier, a wife, a house, two dogs, other animals and an aging physical body that needs to be exercised i only have very limited time for writing. in my youth i was hoping that things would not turn out this way. i was hoping that when i was older i would be able to fill my days with writing. painting. hanging out. not working.

as aging has taught me- things very rarely turn out the way that we think they will. i am not entirely sure that i have fully accepted this yet. possibly i am still disappointed and angry that i do not have more time to write.

maybe this is why when i go for walks, my head and eyes are always pointed straight down towards the ground.

Am I An Anarchist?

I have always thought of myself as an anarchist. I don’t like being told what to do, I disdain the word Boss (I like to say: “no free person has a boss”), I think that government is a huge failed experiment in the endless possibilities inherent in the human condition, I do not trust people who wear uniforms, when I hear media people or politicians saying things like “Americans believe…” I know they are not talking about me, I am not a big fan of capital, sports, pop culture or competition, I think voting is a scam that the mass of mislead people still think actually matters, I feel that soldiers have been terribly manipulated and indoctrinated by those in power, I don’t watch television or identify with any “leader,” I think the president is a limp puppet and every time I see a police officer I have to hold back from shouting out, “Wake up!”

But am I an anarchist?

The last time I confessed to being an anarchist was over dinner with my Republican father. That was a mistake. Fortunately, I had been practicing meditation regularly at that time and was able to not get caught up in the hundreds of angry thoughts that were steam rolling through my mind as my father told me that I was not an anarchistic and that anarchy was a bunch of bullshit. “Anarchy is an impossible dream, it is violent, misinformed and could never work. You are much more intelligent than that son,” my father said as everyone picked at the cheese plate and Caesar salad that sat in the center of the table. That night was one night that I wise enough to realize it is futile to argue with someone who thinks they know everything but really knows nothing at all.

But now several years later I am starting to wonder if my father was right? Shit. I have been reading a small book that I picked up at a zine fair called, “The Anarchist Tension,” by Alfredo M. Bonanno. In this little book Bonanno speaks of anarchy as having nothing to do with what we traditional consider as political and more to do with a way of being, a way of existing in a conformist world. What threw me into doubt about my own anarchistic identity was this sentence: “Instead, the anarchist is someone who really puts themselves in doubt as such, as a person, and asks themselves: what connection do I manage to maintain each day in everything I do, a way of being an anarchist continually and not coming to agreements, making little daily compromises, etc?”

Shit.

I like nice things. I like the home that I own with my wife. I am grateful to have a job where I can help others and make a decent income but for the past year or so I have been struggling with one question that I keep asking myself: Am I living authentically, true to my beliefs, true to who I really am? I keep coming up with the same answer: I’m trying but not really.

All throughout my twenties and thirties I wanted to exist as a writer and an artist. I wanted to be my own agent and not have to go outside of myself to earn a living. This was real anarchy as far as I was concerned. I admired the plethora of artists, musicians and writers who were able to build a life out of their true selves without having to compromise their own identity. This is what I wanted for myself- problem was that I was always broke and had to work at various low paying jobs that I did not really like. I had to have a boss.

After working as a high school teacher who also tended bar I realized that I could not do this anymore. I chickened out. I came to terms with the fact that there was no way that I was ever going to be able to support my desired lifestyle as an artist and writer, so I went back to graduate school and became a psychotherapist (a painful process). And now that I am working as a “professional” in a government regulated, very conservative profession- I can not not help but wonder, is this really me?

Bonanno writes that “for the true anarchist the secret of life is to never ever separate thought from action, the things we know, the things we understand, from the things we do, the things with which we carry out our actions.” So many of the individuals who come to see me for psychotherapy are suffering from deep depressions because they are stuck in careers that they want to get out of but can not. They are experiencing what Sartre called, “No Exit.” They are stuck living a life where thought and action are completely separated. For years they have been trying hard to connect the two but it just does not seem to be working out. Is this happening to me also? Is this the fate of the majority of Americans who live in a capitalist system? Could this be the main cause of mental illness in our first world, highly sophisticated and systematized society?

Maybe so.

But even more importantly- now that I have a legitimate and professional career that demands that I appear in a fairly standardized, conservative and professional manner- am I still an anarchist? Even though I have gained more cultural legitimacy, credibility from people like my parents and financial security have I lost that way of being that characterizes living authentically as an anarchist? Have I become what I always used to refer to as a sell out? Maybe not. Maybe there is a way to function within the system that keeps a person’s autonomy, truth and freedom in tact.

But if I can’t find that way………..

is it possible that I can at least be an anarchist on the side?

“Chicken!”

I enjoy walking through the suburban streets of my neighborhood in the fall. There is something comfortable yet foreboding about it. Halloween is weeks away and a long winter hangs in the background like a presence that is felt, but yet to be seen. I like to feel the cooling breeze swipe itself against my aging face as I walk. Leaves whisk past, fallen from the branches which once gave them life and I contemplate things like my mortality and the speed at which life seems to pass by. I look into the windows of other people’s homes and meditate upon all the ways that we humans try to create a feeling of security and permanence within the never-ending windmill of time. My walks tend to be more contemplative in the fall, more so than at any other time in the year. I think it has something to do with the end of summer and the beginning of a darker more introverted time of year. Sometimes in my contemplative state I sniff flowers and pay attention to things that I would normally ignore, such as a chicken.

The large chicken was grazing the front lawn of a nicely landscaped home. I looked around to see if anyone was keeping an eye on the chicken but there was no one around except a few elderly people hanging out on their front porch, far down the street. Since I live in an agricultural town, with farms all around- it is not unusual to see various kinds of livestock wandering aimlessly around. However this particular chicken took me by surprise. He (I do not know what the chicken’s sex was but for the sake of this story I will refer to him by the masculine gender) seemed to be larger, less fearful than most other chickens I had seen and he had this bright red mohawk running from the top of his head all the way down to the bottom of his spine. Since I stopped eating meat almost a year ago I felt like it would be possible for the chicken and I to get along. I had never met a chicken before and felt like this introspective fall day would be a perfect time to meet. I bent my legs and clasped my hands on my knees. I called the chicken in the same high-pitched voice that I use to talk with babies, cats and dogs. “Hello there chicken, what is your name?” I kindly inquired. The chicken lifted its regal head, turned its beak towards me and stared directly into my eyes. He had finely sculpted cheekbones, large all knowing eyes and a beak that looked like the helm of a pirate ship. Without wasting a moment’s time, the chicken began to walk right towards me. I did not expect this kind of unflinching courage from a chicken and I felt a bit intimidated by its forthrightness. So I withdrew my invitation to meet and quickly turned around and walked away. I had never touched or been close to a chicken before and the limited space between us created a mystery that I suddenly became too afraid to explore.

The chicken backed off as well and went back to grazing on the front lawn. As I was walking away, I could not help but feel like I missed an opportunity to meet a chicken. I also felt like I was acting like a coward and allowing fear to get in the way. I remembered something I heard from a Buddhist teacher about smiling at fear rather than running from it. So I turned around and walked back over to the chicken who seemed to be preoccupied with pulling green grass out of the ground. I was within five feet of the chicken when I bent my legs, put my hand on my knees, smiled and said in my high-pitched baby voice, “You’re a good chicken. What are you doing out here all by yourself? What is your name? My name is Randall.” I proceeded to call the chicken over to me in the same way that I would call a cat. I was determined to pet a chicken without fear getting in the way. Again the chicken lifted its head, looked at me straight in the eyes and then he opened his mouth allowing a large handful of grass to fall out. Without giving me a second to understand what was taking place, the chicken pointed the helm of its beak straight at me and began to charge. I felt a wave of fear overcome me- to powerful to ignore. My smile went away and immediately my fight or flight instinct over powered me. I ran.

As I was running I realized that that the chicken was chasing me. I could hear a demonic cackling sound coming from its throat. I do not know what the cackle meant but it sounded like very primal fighting words to me. I could hear the chickens winged feet slapping against the sidewalk as it started to catch up with me (I had no idea that chickens could run so fast). I remember thinking to myself “no, no, no, I am not ready to die!” as the chicken got closer and closer to me. My horror and desire to live allowed for me to run at a speed that I no longer knew I was capable of. I ran for two very long blocks at top speed until the chickens horrifying cackling began to gradually fade into the background. I gradually slowed down and turned my head. I noticed that the chicken was walking back the other way. He had given up. I stopped, put my hands on my knees and tried to catch my breath. I felt like I had just escaped what could have been the end of me. Beads of sweat began to drizzle off of my forehead and make a drip like painting on the sidewalk. I looked again at the chicken whose red mohawk was sticking straight up as he walked back towards the lawn. I then looked across the street, where I could hear two elderly people laughing. They were sitting on their front porch and enjoying what had become a show for them in which I was the main actor. The old lady who sounded like she had no teeth yelled out at me, “chicken!” and then made a kind of inhumane cackling sound. All I could do was mumble under my breath “okay, whatever,” shake my head in recognition of being the one who was being laughed at and walk away.

The following afternoon I went for another walk. I was observing the piles of leaves on the ground and listening to the various sounds that the leaves made as they tumbled down the street in the afternoon breeze. I decided to stay away from the street where I was chased by the chicken. I felt slightly embarrassed to show my face on that street. I was also afraid of the chicken. So I walked in the opposite direction. I observed various flowers and contemplated various episodes of my youth that I had not thought about in years. I recalled the time that I was attacked by two white poodles while on my way home from school and how I had run away from them in tears with my ankles bleeding and pant legs all torn up by the poodles teeth. Maybe I ran from the chicken because I was traumatized by this episode in my youth? I then thought about all the ways that our past experiences affect our behavior in the present. And then as I was walking and thinking, I noticed a large piece of paper stapled to a telephone pole. In large, bold, black letters it read: MISSING CHICKEN! Below this was a picture of a large chicken with a red mohawk. It was the same chicken that had chased me the day before. Beneath the picture was written: HIS NAME IS MILO, IF YOU SEE HIM PLEASE CALL 916-748-1175. HE IS A VERY SWEET CHICKEN BUT HE CAN ALSO BE AGRESSIVE AT TIMES. REWARD.

The Man Who Fell On Earth.

I must find a certain way out. To open up a sub atomic black hole that will absorb the planet earth and reveal a map for me to find my way back home. If I could create a thinly little pint size device that could bathe the earth in sub atomic particles maybe I could not only reveal the great secrets of your universe- the fabric of your cosmos, but I could also be back in the comforts of my bed by midnight. We live in such an elegant universe, but space and time are constantly trying to take me over- to envelope me in a three dimensional bubble. Newton, Einstein and Theoretical Physics make me feel like my perceptions are constantly changing, imbalanced. I like knowing that there are definite answers to things and my facility for common sense is getting blacked out and all hell is braking loose. There is no longer an absolute space but instead everything is moving at different rates, the universality of space is shattered and a shard of time has been stuck in my side. I feel like I am a trapped animal slowly bleeding to death.

I feel as if I am not moving relative to everyone else in time and space. There are paradoxes every where because the concept of time and space is not absolute. These paradoxes puzzle me. They restrict my breathing and make me anxious. I look at a situation and I am confused by the solutions which are no longer relative. It is like comparing apples and oranges that are separated from one another in space. Where did the symmetry go? Why have I lost my balance? How can I turn time around and create a universe where less time has elapsed? A universe in which I am younger and back in the comforts of my home? I am lost in time and can not comprehend why time moves forward. Dizziness sets in and I become perplexed. My legs grow weak and my mind scrambles to find answers to questions. I am depressed and everything becomes strange. This morning I saw a broken egg jump out of the pan and back into its egg shell! On earth we are familiar with events going one way in time and not the other- but lately I have been watching things happen in reverse order. No longer is there a symmetry in time. Things are not supposed to happen like this on earth and in my head.

The basic laws of Physics are beginning to puzzle me. For so many years I studied them and was certain that I understood. Now I must look all the way back to the beginning, the big bang- which imprinted a direction on time- a disorder that I can not seem to fix. I have often been told that a drive to disorder is why events always go one direction in time and not in reverse. Now, I and every one else I see and love is being driven crazy by this reverse order. Life on earth is in a state of degeneration and I am desperately searching for a way out.

Our current understanding of the world is a result of misread mathematics. Entropy and disorder always increases into the future- no matter how hard you work, how much money you make or how healthy you are. This is fact…we are all moving towards eventual decay. However, why is it that every time I cup an egg in my hand I feel like I am reflecting upon a feature of the entire universe. Electrons are dancing in my chest, I can feel the uncertainty of everything that humans confuse as matter. I know that there are features of the micro-world that I will never know with absolute certainty. When I am lying in bed I try and see inside of darkness but my attempts are usually futile. I ache with this need to know yet I have to make peace with the knowledge that I may never know where an electron is or how fast it is moving. The definite value of these particles I will always be uncertain about because in this earth bound reality, everything is an illusion. Including a way out.

When I look at my cat I can notice that my cat exists both simultaneously as alive and dead. I am troubled by this because the cat is neither here nor there. I can not find my cat in one stable environment. This is another earth bound paradox without resolution. The subtleties allude humans. Someplace in my motel room there is a wave function in which there are many possible worlds coexisting simultaneously. The cat is both half alive and half dead in each of these spaces. All around me there are these multiple universes in which in one universe the cat is alive and in the other universe the cat is dead!! Such an infinite number of universes inside of a Motel Six room. Sometimes I wonder if I am going to wake up and realize that I never existed in this world, that one quantum event will separate me from a world in which I existed. Instead I will be living in another universe, right beside this universe, in which I, Elvis Presley and my dead cat are still alive.

If I can unite The Theory Of The Very Big with The Theory Of The Very Small than I can determine exactly where things are in all these parallel universes. Maybe I can make electrons jitter and create a liberating hole that will free me from this universe. If the finest ingredient in the universe is a small filament of energy with a non zero size, than maybe I can find this ingredient and create a device that will allow me to measure everything in time and space. But for know I can not measure dimensions beyond length, width and height. I feel as if my consciousness is shrinking. Like I had an erection which is now going limp.

I am always searching for answers. Without these answers I know that I will be trapped here for an eternity. I spend my days in a desperate search. A frantic search. Like an obsessive compulsive searching for particles of dust in the carpet. Is it possible that the extra dimensions are so tiny that there is very little room for me to crawl into them- because I am to big? Or is it because of the way that I see? Is it possible that light is trapped in our third dimension and because it is trapped the light can not access other dimensions? Maybe gravity is my only hope. Maybe I can find a way for gravity to move into these other dimensions and let me know that they are there. The dispersion of gravity will create an inverse cube that will allow me to see into the subatomic level. I will be able to make gravity spread out and disperse. When gravity disperses into other dimensions, it will be like unlocking a door. I will be able to put on my finest suit and walk through this opened door- a free man, no longer confined by my job, time and space.

A Meditation And A Hallucination.

Sometimes It’s Fun To Get Lost

It’s like jumping over time. Tricking space. Being lost is the most immediate way to be free. This is why I try doing it as much as possible in this modern world where every one pretends to be found. I prefer not knowing where I am. Not knowing which way to go. Even when I know where I am I pretend that I am without a clue. Being lost for me is a form of salvation- a way to escape from the narrow confines of day to day life. A way to turn things on mute. When I am lost I am stuck in wonder. There is no wrong that I can do and I am free from all the critical judgements of my mind. Being lost for me is a form of therapy, a way to understand myself outside of time and space.

Certain individuals always say to me that they are worried because I always seem lost. “How are you going to maintain a normal job or have a family if you are always lost?” I am often asked. My employers look at me with concern because they are unsure where they can find me. It fills people with trepidation when you spend a lot of time being lost. They feel like they don’t know where to find you and this jeopardizes their own sense of safety and control. I am often faced with questions in the form of condemnations about being lost. “You are so forgetful you know?” or “When are you going to take responsibility?” I often times know that these judgements being expressed towards me are the pontifications of someone feeling out of control. But my intention in getting lost is not to make people anxious or worried, rather I get lost because it is fun.

It is hard to have fun when you get older. Fun can be worn out just like a pair of jeans. We need to drink more or eat more in order to feel the same pleasure that we did when younger. But one form of fun that has never thawed out for me is forgetting where I am. I have been doing it for years and the older I get the better I become at being lost. I relate this kind of fun to the pleasure an enlightened person must have being enlightened. When I am at lost I am free from the responsibilities and familiarities that dictate the course of my normal life. I no longer have to pretend and I enjoy the knowledge that no one around me knows who I am. Nothing seems to matter to me when I am lost other than the moment which I occupy with complete mindfulness. It is almost as if being lost for me is a meditation. An opportunity to set my perpetual thoughts aside and remain focused on the knowledge that I am finally free.

My Idea Of Fun

“I am worried that you are not having enough fun in your life,” my wife said to me. “I have had too much fun in my life and now I am having fun not having fun,” I replied. She looked at me like one does when they know that you are lying to yourself. I considered what I had just said to her and then realized that I did not know what I was talking about. “When you go out and have fun, it sustains you into the future. It makes your life a little easier to handle.. a little more enjoyable to live,” my wife said. ” I have fun staying home and reading, writing or watching a movie. I don’t feel the need to go out to have fun,” I replied- but then I thought about what I said. “Am I really having fun staying in all the time, do I really even remember what it feels like to have fun?” I asked myself. “I think you are afraid of fun,” my wife said as she kissed me and left for another evening out with friends that I once again elected myself out of.

I have been staying home a lot lately. My wife goes out and has fun quite often but I stay in. I make up excuses and tell my wife that I have work to do. In reality I am avoiding the world. All through out my twenties and early thirties I indulged in the world. I went out night after night and indulged in what people like to commonly refer to as fun. I socialized, drank too much, smoked weed and went off on insane adventures that lasted until the sun came up. When I turned thirty I decided that friends were a waste of time and I began having fun alone. I spent my weekends and a few weekday evenings and afternoons in various strip clubs where I knew no one and no one knew me. In the darkness I somehow felt complete in my solitude and as I watched naked women dance for me upon a red lit stage- I was the happiest man alive. I would end my evening in massage parlors where I received shiatsu and a hand job- and then return home early the next morning and sleep until noon. This was my idea of fun.

Now that I am married I have lost touch with a feeling of fun. No longer can I hang out in strip clubs and massage parlors without ending up with a twelve pound suitcase filled with guilt and shame. It ain’t worth it. I hate keeping secrets from my wife so I have broken up with my idea of fun. I have few friends that I enjoy spending time with and solitude has become my favorite form of company. Last weekend when my wife and I went on a dinner date with another couple I felt like a man who was wasting his time. I drank too much so that I could force my self to have fun. All I really wanted was to be at home swimming around in the pages of a book.

“You are becoming reclusive and a curmudgeon,” my wife told me the other day. “Why because I don’t like to have fun?” I asked. “You don’t like to do anything,” she said. “That is not true!” I protested quickly. ” “Though doth protest too much…when was the last time that you had fun?” she asked. “I had fun last night being at home alone watching a movie and doing some writing,” I said. But then I thought about what I said. Was I really having fun being home night after night watching movies, writing and reading? Or has doing these things become my idea of fun because I have forgotten how to have fun? Have I given up on fun because I know that it only lasts for a brief period of time before you are right back where you were before that fun began? Fun drops you off right where it left you- stuck in the middle of your life (and usually with a hang over). Is this why I have given up on fun?

And then I realized that my idea of fun was no fun at all. I have become discouraged with fun, I have lost hope in fun. After decades of having fun I am still stuck in the realities of my life. I got tired of the fun ending. No matter how much fun I had the night before my life was still awaiting me in the morning. By refusing fun, I have learned how to stay present in my life. This way I am not disappointed, I am not let down. Fun for me is kind of like a lover who is always making you feel bad in the end. After years and years of this maddening relationship I have broken the cycle. I have left fun for the reality of my life. I have left fun for quiet evenings at home- a relationship that I feel is more dependable and certainly more consistent. “That’s my idea of fun,” I told my wife as I tried to describe why I was no longer interested in having fun.  “Well do not forget,” my wife replied, “tomorrow night is your sister’s birthday and we are going to go out illuminate ourselves out from this funk you live in and have some damn fun!”

A Blogger In Chains

I know that there are chains. I can feel them and here them and at times I can taste them. There seems not another living soul but me who can notice these chains- but I will not allow their limited perception to make me mad. I know that the chains are there and not a single soul can change my mind. No spiritual guru or psychotherapist can convince me that there is no shackle wrapped around my ankles and no chains dragging behind my feet. They are there and this is an unarguable fact- but what can be done about this “condition” is certainly up for discussion.

I only confess this “condition” of mine because I have notice that I share it with my fellow human kind. Every place I go and upon every one I know I can see these shackles and chains dangling from wrists, ankles and sometimes neck. The individual who is wrapped in chains seems seldom to realize that they are walking around with a great weight. Rather they stay distracted by preoccupations that seems to anesthetize any feeling of physical bondage. Is not this the role of modern technological gadgets (television, ipods, computers, cars and on and on), to make us numb? I am uncertain what is to be done, because when I talk about my chains with colleagues over coffee- I receive nothing but a blank stare that seems to suggest that I may be crazy. The more time I spend at work or thinking about the world- the more I can feel the weight of my chains.

I am not the first to mention this “condition.” The French religious philosopher Pascal did so as well. He wrote “we live between the weight of shackles, seldom aware that they restrict not only our physical bodies but also our spiritual aspirations.” I have visited with many spiritual counselors and healers in regards to my “condition.” I have been counseled by the best and the answer is always the same. “Yes, we live in chains- but it is the physical body which is contained. We can choose to be free in our thought by not getting attached to anything, by remaining free from thought.” How can I not think? This is the question that I always ask. I love thinking and trying to understand the nature of existence is what I do for a living (unpaid). I have worked hard to develop the quality of thoughts that I have- even if they often cause me a great deal of suffering. I have refined my thoughts by reading and writing religiously. Thought is the one great enjoyment that I indulge in every day. How I am supposed to live without thoughts when thought is the one thing that makes me feel civilized?

“Do not attach to your thoughts. Do not identify with your thoughts- just let them pass away into the universe. Everything is impermanent…even your shackles and chains,” one spiritual guru told me when I went out to his farm for an hour session. I spent over a hundred dollars to be counselled in how to break free from my thoughts. “It is your thought that creates the chains and it is your thoughts that can set you free,” were his final words to me. Granted, when I left the farm I felt lighter- less inconvenienced by my chains. I was out of the city, in nature and for the first time in a while I felt as if I could breathe. I was confused by what I was told by the spiritual guru- but I ascertained a glimmer of hope that I could be free. The moment I walked through the front door of my home and saw a credit card bill, phone bill, and insurance bill awaiting me upon my table- the great weight returned. I felt the chains slowly wrapping themselves around my wrists and ankles like a serpent. They worked their way up towards my neck and threatened to cut off my oxygen. As I walked towards the bathroom I kept on telling myself “do not think about it, do not think!!”- but my attempts were futile because the loud sound of the chains dragging along on the hardwood hallway floor convinced me that they are real.

If You Build It They Will Come (i hope)

I am glad to see that 43 living human being visited my blog today. Even though the biggest blogs have hundreds of thousands of visitors a day I am content in knowing that a few, a select few are reading what some consider to be the writings of a mad man. It is not often that I am told this but it is less often that I am told I am sane. It is my belief that I oscillate between sanity and insanity. My faith is entirely constructed upon the meanings which can be extracted from this strange nether world in which I reside. I have faith that over time, maybe many many years- others will come to my blog in search of a space that is beyond common sense or rationality. My convictions tell me that I am no fool, no ordinary mortal- and that what I have to say may change the minds of more than a select conservative few. Maybe I am intoxicated by too strong a belief in the words (rhetoric) that I write, but I know that some day I may be seen by the many as one of the sanest, more frequently read and studied bloggers on planet earth (i hope).

What Is The Sound Of One Hand Clapping?

I finally figured out the answer to the question, “what is the sound of one hand clapping?” I have been told that this question stems from an ancient Zen Koan and has been contemplated for centuries. No one as of yet has discovered the appropriate answer and this includes millions of monks who have been sitting in meditation for hours a day doing nothing but trying to imagine what the sound could be. This question has been researched, studied and investigated until all possible answers have been exhausted. And I, an ordinary mortal who is stuck in between the heavy suitcases of an ordinary existence has happened upon the answer. Like a disorganized deck of cards- fate has a funny way of orchestrating itself into a steady rhythm. Why things are the way they are- I am the last to be able to give a logical explanation. All that I know is that I am a tired man who is still searching for his dreams in a rented apartment which is cold and filled with half read underlined books. Answers seldom come my way but when they do I want to share them with the world. “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” a homeless man said to me today hoping to seduce coins from my shallow pockets. “Who cares,” I said as I cynically made my way past him with a stare of blank disregard. “Who cares,” “who cares?” I repeated to myself as if I had just discovered an ancient riddle. I stopped in my tracks  and turned with a smile of discovery upon my face to listen to the homeless man who was shouting over and over…” you got the answer, you got the mother fucking answer!!!”

An Invitation To A Beheading.

I used to love sitting alone in a chair and reading a good book. Nothing brought me greater pleasure. I would read a novel a day while enjoying the background sounds of birds chirping and cats meowing. Nothing was as effective in diminishing my stress and anxiety as a good book. No matter how bad the conditions of the world or my life- the printed words on a page could lift me out from my psychological squalor and re-plant me in a space of wonderment. I look back upon these times with utter envy. I even become emotionally enraged towards the man I was in my twenties. I am not only jealous of the large chunks of time that he had to drift of into the pursuit of knowledge but I am furious that it has all gone away.

Now I cannot read a book without having to get up and do something after twenty minutes. I become aggravated, nervous and I am distracted by these demons that seem to be hovering over me and disrupting my concentration. My thoughts begin to race and I struggle to stay focused upon what ever story or non-fiction work I have chosen to read. But no sooner than I can get past a few pages is there the loud voices of little demons that whisper scary things into my ears and poke sharp objects into my chest making me fearful what might happen next. I try to tune them out and push them away with positive visualizations or a smile- but they are ferocious and do not easily relent.

I know nothing good lasts forever, but there are still so many books left that I want to read. I want to return to that time when I could read peacefully for hours, day upon day- without the little brats whispering in my ear: “is your heart beating irregularly?” or “shouldn’t you be doing something more constructive.” Some times these little demons keep shouting things at me like “watch out, watch out- your head might explode!!” or “run, run, run for your life…death is coming, ha ha!!” My own inner monologue is not loud enough to silence these intruding voices and rather than continuing to read I give up and go do something else.

I have not been able to read a book from front to back for months. These little intrusive demons are getting the best of me. They also sneak into my head when I go for walks and drive my car. If I am not constantly reciting a mantra in my mind or singing a song- they will sneak into my silence and cause me great anxiety and grief. The little demons are wearing me down, forcing me to drink more wine and taking me away from the one thing that has always been of great importance to me- my intellectual life.

Without my practice of diligent daily reading my intellectual acumen has become as watered down as a cheap cocktail. I have not been able to think or write upon the great themes of philosophical dialectics or cultural theory like I had once planned upon doing. I have not been able to write great novels that compare with the best of works by Tolstoy, Kafka or Bernhard. I have not been able to go into my career as an honorable college professor who specializes in Ontology and Samuel Beckett. Rather- to defend myself against these little demons and attempt to save my own life I have had to go towards the New Age. I have had to practice meditation, do Yoga, recite mantras and start wearing beads and stones to defend myself against negative energy. I have had to seek out healers and been told by many that I must get out of my mind and start to become more grounded in my body. The very thing that I put so much work into cultivating has become my demise. My intellect has become the very portal from which these demons can access my nervous brain causing me such scary afflictions as to make me consider taking medication. These voices and disruptions get louder and louder every day- if it continues I may send out invitations to my own beheading.

photograph by Keith Purdy.