Category Archives: Death

Antierra Manifesto – blog post #97

We wait.  I bow while they eye me openly, trying to gauge my body, my most likely opening moves.  I’m after all the undefeated Desert Beast with an impressive record of kills.  They know not to take anything for granted.  Plus in their stupidity they forfeited their right to see me handle the rapier.  Second advantage goes to me; they already have first: two against one.  A set of drums roll and echoes across the keep and a score of trumpets blare the start of the game.

End blog post #96
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Start blog post #97

First order of business is to discover their moves.  I back out of their instant trap which I expected and parry two thrusts at my midriff.  Back more, parry again, back, parry and turn to slash at an exposed arm.  Blood.  Good, first cut is mine.  I get a third advantage now.  Back again, circle slowly, warily, drawing them in to see when they combine for a killing stroke or to throw a dagger.  I have to move so neither of them can get behind me.  And I have to plan my own disabling blow against either of them.  Nothing for it but to continue backing away, thus angering the crowd. 

Time for my ‘sand dance’ as I call it.  I move my feet rhythmically, sliding them through the warm sand, feeling it, feeling the firmer stone under it, finding footing for a deadly crouch.  Using the bionic ankle I shovel sand into piles while keeping them distracted with rapid slashes of the rapier, not meant to cut but to sting when contacting bare skin.  I land several such and I get a couple also.  It hurts, no doubt of that but I remember the floggings I watched and this I need to experience, for those victims who died in front of my eyes.  I continue to make a space for later footing then step away from my little constructs.  It works.  One of them steps on one of the piles of sand and staggers.  I was already on the move and thrust the rapier in his groin deep enough to send him doubling over.  He’ll be out of commission long enough for me to tire the other.  Maybe even permanently.

So to the other one.  No more erection.  Too bad, lost my target.  I am on the move now, attacking with all my power, forcing him to give ground away from my cleared space.  Push, push, watching to see if he’s going to go for the dagger throw.  He knows better, too soon.  He knows I’m still much too fast to give him the split second needed to draw and throw.  He continues to give ground to my relentless assault.  I prick him several times and watch him wince each time.  He feels my sting now and he’s sweating profusely.  I am making him work to save his drook hide.  Push, push, until my feet are on the firmer spot I worked for earlier.  Now I hold my position and mock him with several meaningless rapier whirls.  His eyes follow the blade thinking I’ve got some hidden killer move in those motions.  That’s what I want, to create confusion.  Let him imagine non-existent killer moves: worth it to me, even if it wastes precious energy. 

‘Yes drook, use that stunted imagination to see the Desert Beast ready to set her fangs in your soft flesh.’  I use the mind touch on him just enough to goad his rising fear.  I can feel it and can almost hear him pleading to his partner to return to the fight.  It’s of little consequence now because even if he does he’ll only get killed.  I can see from the corner of my eye that the groin stab was totally disabling.  It was deep enough to accomplish what I desired. 

A great calm comes over me as the noise of the crowd recedes behind my head again.  I’m back in the Warmo fight, at the end, when his defeat is inevitable. What are these drooks but left-overs from that black day?  Remnants, rags, of a once proud entity.  Dregs of male humanity lost in a world created from their own uncontrolled lusts.  Lost in their own evil and still falling, unable to check their velocity, like a ship without its drive burning through the atmosphere to crash in flames, all aboard fried with it. 

And I’m here to remind them of this fact, not to kill them.  I have to talk to them, or at least one of them before it’s all over.  Dangerous but something I sense critically necessary.  I must disable, not kill.  That means playing cat to the mice I’ve cornered in the granary.  This is not my idea, so who’s in my mind?  The Avatari, Al’Tara.  I sense her, know her.  But they said they’d not help me here, what’s going on?  Ah, of course.  I’m incarnating her, them.  I’ve reached another level of understanding and can talk to my higher self.  Can give myself advice.  Not so alone anymore.

The disabled challenger has returned.  He’s holding his fist to his side and his pallor is terrible to behold.  I can feel sorry for him even in this.  He holds his rapier steady enough and is trying to cover for his friend.  He knows he’s facing his death now and all trace of mockery or bravado is gone.  He lunges at me, hoping to give me a jab or cut that will slow me down.  I easily parry even as I handle his partner.  I draw my dagger with my right hand.  What these poor drooks don’t know is I’m fairly ambidextrous but my right hand is my strong arm when it comes to throwing while the left is the strongest gripping hand. 

With rapier in left, dagger in right, bionics fully functional I go on the attack again.  Left to parry, right to feint.  I force the weaker one to come at me again, leaving a tantalizing opening.  He takes it, no choice in the matter as he’s weakening.  I block, stabbing in his right arm this time, the rapier cutting clean through the muscle then out in one move.  That’s it for that one.  He collapses in the sand and I kick his sword away from him, sand in his face and move on to the other one who is now pressing me in a desperate attempt to take advantage of his friend’s last efforts.

The fight is not over, not by a long shot.  Actually it is now swinging in his favour since he realizes he has no support while I’m certainly tiring.  We’re one on one, as it is supposed to be and he becomes more self-reliant.  He’s got his dagger out too now and the question in our minds is who throws first?  Who commits?  We move slowly around, facing each other, looking for that one opening the professional knows will inevitably come.  I back away from him to test him.  He does not take the bait and backs away from me in turn.  Tit for tat.  I turn my body sideways, keeping the rapier pointed in his direction, weighing my chances for a dagger throw.  Not good, he’s still too fast and would block it, taking away my back up weapon.  I walk backward through the sand, feeling its warmth between my toes.  I smell male sweat in the air coming from the stands and realize the crowd is almost silent.  They sense the tension between the challenger and I.  While we measure each other again they wait.  The disabling of the other one put a serious dent in their exuberance.

My challenger turns slowly to keep his eyes on me as I continue to walk backward around him.  I don’t want to press him yet – his dagger makes me nervous.  It looks very deadly in his hand.  I am fully aware that he knows when and how to throw, that’s what I read in his mind.  I have to come up with a feint to get him to commit himself.  I move slowly back to the place where I’d created the sand pile and cleared some stone for footing.  I repeat the process to regain the firm surface.  Now what?  I pretend to stagger on the piled up sand and that does the trick.  In one lightning move he has thrown his dagger.  The only way to block the direct throw is with my right arm.  I take the dagger through the lower arm and deflect it just as it penetrates through.  Gritting my teeth I set my mind above the agony, jump back, throw my dagger back in its sheath and rip his out of my arm.  The blood is pouring out now, not fast enough to cause immediate death but still a dangerous cut.

I pretend to be seriously disabled, holding his dagger under my upper arm and bringing the rapier into play slowly.  He commits himself to the death blow too soon.  I drop the rapier in the sand, grab the dagger with my left and whip it in a sharp throwing arc, letting go just as it enters his lung.  Tearing the other dagger out of its sheath I jump in the sudden opening he makes and drive it in his heart.  I retrieve my rapier and go to inspect the other challenger who has rolled on his side and is moaning pitifully.  Before I beseech the crowd for mercy I bend down and speak to him.

“Listen, I did not want to kill you.  I don’t want to kill you.  Most of us are not men killers but you force us to do this.  Why?  You must ask why.  You are going to die now even if the crowd gives mercy because that cut in your groin cannot be repaired and you know it, being a trained fighter.  Before you die, I want you to realize this: we women are intelligent people.  We know what you are doing to us.  We know things are supposed to be different.  We also know that we have a great friend in the goddess who has awakened and is going to help us get out of this horror you have put us in.  Understand this drook.  We do not want to hate you, hurt you or kill you.  We defend ourselves.  Ask then, why must you hate us, hurt us and kill us?  Wouldn’t you rather be lying down somewhere soft with a young woman’s arms wrapped around you after making love instead of lying here bleeding to death from a woman’s weapon?  Ask the goddess to forgive you and ask me the same thing, now.”

He emits the death rattle once, recovers and says, “I ask forgiveness…”  I reply immediately “And I grant it.  You will remember when you awaken.”  I don’t think he hears me but still I got a confession, of sorts.  I cannot let the crowd know he’s already dead.  I stand and give the “mercy” signal, raising one arm straight up, fingers splayed and wait.  The cry of disgust and anger is unanimous: “Kill!”  So I thrust my rapier in the body, turn and walk away to the exit to be escorted as usual by my handlers.

End blog post #97

“Why worry about what can kill you tomorrow when so many things can kill you tonight?” 

 

(title is a remembered quote from the movie, “Lord of War”)

[thoughts from  ~burning woman~  ]

I’m sure that title and quote is also a paraphrase of something else I’ve read somewhere in my travels.  It is a line however that I have often thought about.  What does that mean to me?  Does it mean, in the hedonistic sense, “Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die!”?  Throw caution to the wind, live for the moment, and the Devil take the hindmost?

While I completely disagree with the common politically correct phrase, “we’re all in this together” (which is obvious bullshit in spades when you think about it seriously for a second) there is definitely one thing we all have in common: death.  Whatever we do to avoid it, and believe me that the amount of money people spend to try to avoid it is beyond staggering (well, OK, I don’t know how much, I just know it’s a whole lot more than “that”) we simply can’t.  Death is our constant companion through life.  We’re born to die, with a little lunch break in-between we call life. (We don’t get paid for that either, the opposite actually.)

I’m not trying to cheer you up, but I’m not trying to depress you either as both would defeat my purpose.  I haven’t (yet) said anything you don’t already know so if this feels uncomfortable, think of it as a reality check.

Why do we worry?  Why so many stressed to the max and depressed?  What happened to the pursuit of happiness, the verve, the “joie de vivre”?  What is this terrible darkness that is descending upon the planet which seems to increase every time some major man-made event is propagandized?  Why can’t we be infected by a beneficial virus for a change? Why can’t we have at least one major truly joyful man-made event of gargantuan proportions to celebrate ourselves within?  Since we can’t outgrow the need for leaders, why can’t we have smart ones? Why must everything of major import be sad, dreadful, horrible, hopeless, destructive, death-dealing, polluting and/or costly with no end in sight when we are sick and tired of hearing about it or experiencing it? Why must what we hope for be forever out of reach, more likely to recede from our grasp than approach it?  Why does the carrot always turn into a stick?

I think it all goes back to death.  Consciously we may choose to ignore the monster and try to live relatively normal, happy lives among those we love or the society we fit in, but subconsciously “it” is always there, just like *Joe Black, not always recognized for what it is but suspected, distrusted and feared; the entity with its own agenda over which no one has any control.  Death, the great equalizer it’s been called.  Well, I don’t know: I see a lot of death, I don’t see much equality arising from its presence, quite the contrary.  Death is like that bouncing ball that after it’s set a bouncing, every time it’s touched it bounces even more wildly and unpredictably.

In a moment of wild ecstasy I suppose, John Donne wrote “death thou shalt die.”  Literally or figuratively?  It really doesn’t matter “how” it matters more “when.”  Until now man has been the slave of death and the certainty of having to face that executioner has caused man to behave in quite irrational and contradictory ways.  For the average Earthian, the way to avoid death is to be the first to deal death to some whose existence is perceived as a threat.  This knee-jerk reaction is called survival of the fittest but is better defined as war, man’s most precious invention; the one he spends the most resources upon by far; his joy, his baby, his heritage, his great love.  Makes me want to write an ode to war, or a love poem:

O dear war,
How I missed thee in the dark days of peace!
How I praise thee now that thee art returned
To fill the aching void in my human heart,
To stop the aimless wander of my soul!

O dear war
Promise me from thine bloody throne
Thou shalt abandon me never again!
I could no longer bear the emptiness
Caused by your troubling absence!”

Well it’s a start.  Dark humour, but how far from the truth of the matter?  We kill remorselessly in vain attempts to save our own life, a life that was forfeit from the moment it was conceived.

OK, so I’m not looking for rationality among the species, I know such a thing is anathema to man’s thinking.  I’m just wondering if there is a cure to worry.  Let’s spread the reasoning net.  All animal life dies, sooner than later.  Do animals worry about dying?  I don’t think they do, although many animals experience powerful emotions when one of them dies, some more than others.  They know about death; about the end of the body, but they don’t seem to be worried about their own coming death.  It’s only when the predator appears that they resort to their fight or flight mode.  If they get sick they do not linger.  Either they heal themselves or give themselves over to death with hardly a struggle.

For whatever reason, Earth people approach the matter of death much differently than animals.  Animals don’t form armies to attack and decimate their enemies.  They may be territorial for naturally mandated purposes but they don’t try to expand their “empires” outside limits set by the Alpha male of the tribe or queen of the hive.  Those outside the limits are safe from attack and free of harassment.  Animals kill to survive, not to enhance their own personal power or “wealth” as the expense of others.  {Oh please God, make me into an animal this minute!  Amen!}  Animals gracefully surrender their bodies to the earth and shortly no evidence remains of their passage.

It is foolish to worry, even more so to allow oneself to get depressed.  Depression isn’t a disease, it’s the dirty diaper of the spoiled and entitled modern bratty Earthian who wants more than it’s willing to earn for itself; who is not willing to share.  Depression comes from a “I want it, and I want it now” civilization whose technology provided a lot of stupid, unnecessary polluting toys and continues to promise more toys while the natural resources that fueled that technology are wasted by misuse and war or vanishing from the planet in waves of entropic energy like climate change.  Depression from not getting what one feels entitled to leads to worry about more serious things, like losing one’s home or having no money to buy basic necessities such as food or losing one’s children through violence… Ah yes, the list of things that cause worry grows long.

I choose to live by my first quote.  I don’t worry about what could kill me tomorrow.  I think about the things lurking in the night of my mind, the things tonight, that can kill me.  I think about the dangers of reverting back to being a common Earthian; of waking up tomorrow morning worrying about food, clothing, shelter, money, sex, what’s been stolen in the night, etc.  I think about spiritual regression and mental devaluation from nightly visitations of “demons” from the darkness of the capitalist, consumerist Matrix.  I think of the horror of discovering I’m no longer immune to the foibles of man but rather fully back in establishment clutches.  I think about what it would be like to lose my sense of self empowerment, of knowing what I am; of losing sight of my purpose… in the night.  And I shudder.  That would be worse than any conceivable depression.

Ah, but I’m a witch!  I have spells to protect myself from demons who would steal my self-made personhood:  “I think my own thoughts, therefore I am my own person.” And spells also to protect me from well-meaning people who would destroy the essential me with their verbal weapons of fear-based mass distraction.  My simple response to all of it is “I choose me.”  Then I remember that death approached at through self-determination has become my greatest gift, my doorway out of a dying place to another I know of and look forward to – no: not heaven!

When does death die?  It dies when transcended every waking and awakened moment.

PS: this isn’t in response to the current Covid 19 pandemic. I wrote these thoughts some years ago but they do fit the moment.

*Joe Black: reference is to the movie, “Meet Joe Black” with Brad Pitt as Death.

 

 

 

 

What to believe, Oh, what to Believe?

[thoughts from   ~burning woman~  ]

What to believe, oh, what to believe!? On one side sits my common sense and years of dedicated observation of man on this world. On that side, I smile, even laugh – but in hiding: it wouldn’t do to upset the believers in their fearfully self-righteous anger.

On the other side is the herd, man himself, with his accumulated force combined into a patriarchal civilization that has taken over everything and used it’s overwhelming power to rape, plunder and kill at will while running amok disgorging unsustainable numbers.

Now comes a crossroads, whether real or fake, and “man” the forceful (bad) predator, rapist and mass murderer demonstrates his innate fear of unknowns and his disgusting cowardliness in the face of an arisen “power” he does not know how to conquer and exploit.

A virus: imagine that! Something he can’t rape or plunder; something only the few know how to profit from.

How did this thing come about? Ah well, one could listen to man’s endless or contradictory explanations but they are just more excuses to hide superstitious ignorance and exposing the fact that “the great conqueror of nature” never did “conquer” his raped and tortured world; the fact that this world’s nature only went deeper underground to mutate and hide its lethal come-backs.

Are these “come-backs” surfacing in brute anger now? No, not yet, not yet. Earth’s revenge is a dish she does intend to savour cold and it’s not near cold enough yet. This is but a small test of one of nature’s many and deadlier weapons of mass destruction.

I am not concerned about this virus fear-demic. The programmed fear is just one more of man’s (read: Matrix) invented means to create chaos and additional control for the powerful over the less so, the proverbial storm in the teacup. There will be deaths during this period of panic, but it is already so obvious that most of those deaths ascribed to the “new and improved” virus primarily result from pre-existing pathologies. Ascribing these to a corona virus to create a global pandemic is a political gambit with serious long term goals.

Of course that is not what the hoi polloi want to hear. They have invested belief, feelings and tsunamis of emotions in this folly and they won’t be easily robbed of their new game. Suddenly they have become mindful of their corrupt, lying leadership. Suddenly they need to believe, even in blatant institutional lies. Suddenly the media’s non-stop talking heads are spewing the very wisdom of the gods. Suddenly we are existing under a new law called “The Six Foot Rule” or “The Two Meter Rule” (but not to worry, the virus knows both standard and metric systems.)  

There is something afoot the sheeple do not understand because they have no imagination, no personal power and no self-respect. They do not trust their own intuition or understanding, having sold that to the “group” – whatever the “group” be called – a long time ago when they chose their fantastic civilization over the rules of nature.

Suddenly they are faced with an instrument of comeuppance they know enough to fear but not enough to understand. Now they must turn to their “gods,” the promoters of civilization, for protection from the deadly monster. Suddenly they need to believe to survive the crisis of the moment, waiting for the morning when the great leadership declares business as usual.

Then the sheep will stop looking up, bleat a sigh of relief, drop their masks, gloves and “social distancing” and some of their newly-manufactured fears (but not all of them, the needed quota will remain). They will stop some of their war against each other and begin the rebuilding of the castles for their lords and masters. They will return to their happy fornicating and mindless defecating on the face of the planet.

Isn’t that how it’s always been in the world of civilizations?

On that glorious morning however this civilization will have taken one giant step closer to its final demise.  

Oh, and in case you are interested, there is one natural weapon of mass destruction that your civilization knows about. It’s even mentioned in some rule books of scientific magic. It’s called entropy. That’s the four horses of the Apocalypse riding over the face of civilization as one. On the final day of that ride, as the book says, people will hide in caves. They will crawl under rocks and cry to be covered over but nothing learned or known will avail. Nature will have the very last word… on that day. 

 

 

Everybody Knows…

[some timely thoughts by  ~burning woman~ ]

Yesterday I had to go out “in the public” – sort of – on a job, and today I found some time to slip away and do some shopping. What I saw these last two days staggered my imagination, enough to make me “righteously” angry. I saw the programmed sheeple at their best, lining up at banks and stores, waiting patiently or walking silently between half-empty or blocked off shelves tossing frightened or angry looks when another violated the “6 foot rule” and got too close. Some had masks and gloves. Few smiles, just confused expressions as they contemplated the manufactured shortages and forced themselves to believe and trust. Surely, this is all legitimate. Surely there is a virus out there devastating the planet and killing thousands, soon to be millions, then billions. Surely one must obey the masters for do they not always know best? And who’s to question them? If we do not obey, will they not shut down even more, and will we not all die, if not of “the virus” then of starvation?

The story was being told in strange encounters. My particular clients yesterday are elderly (I’m 73 but I guess I don’t qualify since I am not playing the game by the new rules) and they have “compromised immune systems.” They couldn’t pay me in cash, so they had to place a cheque (yes, that is the proper spelling) on a chair outside for me to pick up, but only after they properly retreated back into their house, with their masks and gloves.

Signs everywhere announcing shut downs of various businesses. Restaurants only doing deliveries. Most government offices shut down, people working “from home”. Schools closed apparently until next Fall. I wondered if they’d shut down the wars?

So I listened to my anger and it told me things I am really not supposed to think. Why? That is always the first question and if followed through it explains much. What are the elites hoping to accomplish with this manufactured pandemic? I could immediately think of a few things. Take China, why not, we’re told it started there… their bubble economy was in shambles and ready to blow sky high bringing the rest of the global market place down with it. It needed stopping without exposing the lie and the massive corruption that is the viral capitalist system. Hide one man-made virus, predatory capitalism, with another! Another test: can the money system finally eliminate all cash transactions? Use the virus to scare the sheeple into going on-line or e-transfer; get them trained, then tell them cash is no longer available: too dangerous to health. Of course this means greater control by the banking mafia. Want another? Why not use the virus to begin the serious elimination of all no longer wanted nor needed older folk? Get rid of pensioners for one. Then kill off other undesirables, those that require health care but can’t pay for it and want “the government” to seriously go into the health care business and control Big Pharma and the entire medical malpractice world – get rid of the sick before serious profits are lost and keep the pressure on to hide the massive corruption threatening to destroy civilization in one fell swoop.

Meanwhile to sheeple are, as usual, returning to their blind faith. Believe those in charge, maybe even go back to believing in god. Believe the virus is deadly and can only be controlled by following mandated guidelines. Invest a maximum amount of emotion and fear in the process. Worry, worry, worry, about grandma and grandpa (or great grandma and great grandpa) and although they are already “compromised” and “sick” – if they die, believe it is because of the virus. Blame the virus, and blame whatever animal is supposed to suddenly, for no reason, have spewed it out upon innocent unsuspecting humans. Blaming always accompanies blind faith.

There are other thoughts going around in my mind about this massive scam job but I’m letting it go. It’s “your” story, not mine and I’ve decided not to spoil your fun and faith in a fabulous fantasy. If you cannot, or will not, realize that only a tiny minority of deaths are not caused by pre-existing conditions; if you do not or will not realize that “they” are blaming generic deaths from chronic conditions accompanying old age, heart conditions, over-drugging, collapsing lungs or whatever else (car crashes maybe next?) on this “virus” then go ahead, enjoy the emotional ride. While you’re at it, remember there’s a comet out there too  and comets have been known to be harbingers of “terrible” things. So let’s add that to the list while we’re at it. Maybe the comet caused the virus. More blame.

Yesterday I kind of blew up at my “boss” as she went on about the virus and I said, “There isn’t any f*****g virus! It’s a scam of such mega proportion that it’s impossible for the sheeple to even try to think. Exercise faith, obey, fear, take expensive precautions, and hope. Meanwhile this game is giving billions of quietly desperate lives something to “do” giving those lives a semblance of meaning. Suddenly the commuting, assembly line working, shopping, playing and praying system-slave discovers excitement outside the bland ordinary. A new game, and the rules aren’t all set yet: does it get better?

Remember this song?

Everybody Knows – Leonard Cohen

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That’s how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died

That’s the gist of it, but of course that is not how it goes: how it goes is, nobody knows because nobody wants to know.  What everybody does know however is that if the virus “grows” it will be my fault for not playing by the establishment rules. For not being “vaxxed”; for not getting medicated; for not doing the doctor check up; for not BELIEVING. That’s my crime: I’m an unbeliever. The proof is undeniable: I don’t get sick and I don’t carry around or feed a compromised immune system. So watch for the comet then put up the stake in the public square. Burn some unbelievers and the virus will die off.  It’s always worked in the past. 

 

The Language of Nature?

[thoughts on mathematics, by   ~burning woman~ ]

It has been said, it’s probably being said, it’s probably seriously believed, that mathematics is the universal language, hence nature’s language. I’ve never been able to believe that. I’d say that mathematics is the language of control. Numbers are the tools of the State, science, finance, the military and the corporation and anyone who has read the Bible will also know that numbers are really big with God. There’s even a book in there titled “Numbers.”

The bumble bee didn’t have to spend $75,000 to study Aristotle and Archimedes and learn classical mechanics to figure out how to fly, so why do we, who consider ourselves so much more advanced than a mere insect, have to do it… and still remain unable to fly without some sort of mechanical exoskeleton? A machine that is extremely polluting, extremely noisy and often used to destroy cities and annihilate people?  

I admit that I never was a fan of mathematics.  I was fine with basic arithmetic. I could add, subtract and divide along with the rest.  If asked what 99 and 98 added up to I would say 200, give or take. If you want to make an issue of the rounding, make it minus 3 which makes it 197. Simplify the picture.  When the numbers got a bit cumbersome I would pull up my slide rule… in grade nine and ten that got the math teacher’s eyebrows to rise. He’d come over to my desk and watch me slide my cursor, find a close approximate answer then arrive at the final answer using common sense. That of course was before the hand-held electronic calculators had made their appearance. For a while there, my slide rule beat Texas Instruments. It could tackle much larger numbers and render them intelligible, though why anyone would need to play with billions, trillions, quadrillions and quadzillions remains beyond me. KISS: keep it simple, stupid. However much fun zeroes are to play with, zero is zero, it’s not a magic number.

Certainly man, or some men, can calculate aspects of nature using their mathematics. Nothing too surprising there, they used to use pebbles, shells and sticks, the length of their forearm, fingers, feet, maybe even their dicks, some to their glory (Ah, that famous horn!) and some to their shame. They kept pushing the boundaries of both, the macro and the micro and they invented numbers to match their needs and count their seeds.  Those numbers were made up by men (for the most part, some women were reluctantly allowed to participate in the games in these latter years, at least in some countries. That’s another topic.)

Mathematics weren’t designed to probe infinity, they were invented to contain nature into a man-made box. By imposing math upon natural “stuff” it was possible to calculate what it was worth, how much of it could be extracted, pumped, grown or harvested and how profitable such and such a venture would be, and of course, what could be done without. We have convinced ourselves that burning the Amazon forests is totally legit: our numbers say so. If serious climate upset results, the numbers scream: ‘All the better, solutions to pollution reap more profits!’ 

Mathematics is the bible of statisticians, actuaries or risk assessors, or bean counters and bankers, of the entire sordid world where man’s numbers become the servants of sharks. Outside of the financial world mathematics is the tool man’s science uses to dissect nature; to put it in a box in order to observe it piecemeal and to waste resources polluting space while on their planet millions die of preventable causes because they’re too busy playing to notice or too busy getting rich off the death toll. May as well say it while I’m here: profits depend on numbers. Profits equal death. Death equals more profits. It’s statistically measurable as long as the hamster wheel provides the power for the computers.  

Mathematics is shackles and scalpels in various financial prisons and scientific experimental laboratories. But we can’t call the process what it is, or what it is used for, so we give it a quasi-holy title: the universal language which translates as the language of nature. Then everybody is expected to buy the line, toe the line, fall in line; i.e., to believe by getting indebted to those who “own” the numbers.

If nature has a language it isn’t complicated. I doesn’t require a great knowledge of advanced mathematics to translate it.  I learned it while running free and wild as a child on my parents’ homestead and beyond.  It contained only one word: “Be!”

I can imagine that my little rant would not sit comfortable at the Round Table surrounded by the dour-faced knights of Religion, Government, Finance, Science and Technology. My comments are probably borderline heresy in today’s world. But before I go to the stake and one of the Knights of Progress proudly lights the fire in defense of his mathematically-constructed God, let me ask this: take a look at your world and consider how much of the damage made by math-driven technology could have been avoided had those numbers been left sealed in Pandora’s box until the species developed an intelligence at least able to keep up with its mostly useless gadget driven lifestyle.  

Thanks to mathematics we’ve become globally addicted to an artificial world of planet and life destroying gadgetry. Before we plunge into developing something “cool,” something “new and improved,” shouldn’t we be counting the costs we’re imposing on the future? We don’t need mathematics to assess those costs, we just need to observe results and do some very simple projection.

But who has time to question anything these days when the big top is permanently up and the circus never leaves town? Who dares question when forced to punch a time clock “in” three times a day so as not to end up on the street? Who can argue when that finely tuned time clock says you’re 2 minutes and 4 seconds late for your shift?

My Dear Earth

My dear Earth, I have a confession to make.  I am weary of you and the political promises made on your behalf by those who live totally artificial lives; who watch your “nature” by sitting on a couch in front of their TV and who “love” you without having a clue as to who you really are, or rather, what you have become. 

My dear Earth, I’m tired of your bullshit. In my opinion, backed by having grown up within your actual wilderness, by lifelong observations; by involvement in “environmental” efforts and studies, I say you are either a rank hypocrite, or you simply don’t give a horse’s patootie about what goes on over, on or in your body.  I think if I could hear your response it would be using that particularly offensive current expression: “It’s all good.”

Well no, it’s not all good. In fact it’s far from being even a bit good.  My first challenge to your fans’ claim of status, that you are a goddess, has to do with predation.  Yes, you heard me correctly. You accept, support and probably believe, or at least want your supremacist, exceptional homo sapiens species to believe that predation, the killing of large numbers of totally innocent and helpless life in order to feed much smaller numbers of not so innocent and much less useful life is of paramount necessity to the promotion of a “balanced” slate on this world. 

Let me point out how utterly wrong you are on that.  Let’s take your most successful predator species to-date, “man” and see if their unchallengeable success is conducive to engendering a balance of life on this world, on your body.  What do you think? Even among these ultimate predators (ignoring for the moment any alien force equipped with planet-busting weaponry) there is a saying, “a bad predator annihilate its host.” This so-called intelligent predator is ostensibly aware that his life-sustaining system is entropic.  After man, nothing. I don’t call that balancing the slate, I call that utter irresponsibility, arrogance and injustice of universal proportion. 

Now Earth, if I actually believed in evolution I would have to state categorically that this nefarious, and may I add, absolutely useless and pointless predator called “man” is a child of your desire and invention.  It is so perfectly adapted to your modus operandi that it is in the process of destroying itself and your living environment in the bargain.  It’s all about predation.  Every system man has used (I will not say ‘invented’ because the creature is mentally incapable of such invention) is predatory in expression.  Boil the chaos instituted by man to its lowest common denominators: organized religion, government and finance, and you hold in your cauldron all the evil that man has wrought against all other forms of life and against its own species. 

Whence comes lust? Greed? Lies? Wars? From man’s civilization. What sustains that civilization? The three predatory abominations mentioned above.  Remove them and what’s left of that civilization? Nothing that would uphold man’s claimed superior tenure of earth, of you, Earth. 

Let me back off from man and look at the rest of your “creation” and assess that.  The process of creating stress, fear, fight-or-flight reactions and necessary successful killing attack modes among every creature that flies, swims, walks, crawls or tunnels is everywhere apparent. Simply put, it’s how things work here. Kill or die.  Rule or be enslaved. Where’s the middle ground? There isn’t any. You haven’t allowed for that in your twisted reasoning.  Everything must suffer, either the predator’s fear of missing a kill and going hungry, or the victims’ fear of being targeted while simply engaged in foraging, or in raising young in a burrow or hatching eggs in a nest.  Your entire system is based on raw fear.  How did you ever let it come down to that?  What made you fall so low that you would sell your surface dependent life to fear and constant depredation?

You made a very bad choice a long time ago. You became addicted to fear, hate and pain. You learned to use gratuitous violence to create your drug. Subsequently you discovered man and subverted him to your horror, addicting him to an innate need of violence, particularly by shedding innocent blood. You taught him to use violence against all life, but mostly against the smaller, the weaker, the most helpless.  You demonstrated how the prey would greatly multiply as a defense mechanism against annihilation of its species and taught that predatory killing was a defense against the prey “taking over” the territory legitimately staked out by the predator.  

You know me, Earth.  You know I’m here observing, taking notes. You know you don’t have me. You know the programming used to subvert intelligent life here doesn’t work with me.  So don’t lie to me.  That worked for a time. I believed the lies; that you were not really sentient; that you had nothing to do with what went on; that you were a victim.  Yes, I recognize that you are a victim, just like a drug addict is a victim.

In the name of all that is fair and just as Life understands it, I condemn man’s civilization and I also condemn you, Earth, to a just death.  Your anti life perversion and corruption is beyond redemption, as is man’s.  You possess a few very shaky years yet in which to change, in which to make amends, in which to prove me wrong about you. 

I suggest you get to it.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Antierra Manifesto – blog post #91

(In which Tiki’s training demonstrates a flaw in the use of emotion when engaged in one-on-one to the death fight – or, when things are not what they appear to be.)


Always when I say thank you to these women they remain surprised, even shocked.  It is the word you use to men, not to women.  For someone to thank them means recognition of their humanity, equality, worth.  That simple word goes a long way anywhere it is used but never more so than here.
“Ready Tiki?”
“Yes.  I drink, I feel strong.  Ready.  More sword?”

End blog post #90
__________________________________
Begin blog post #91

“Not today but tomorrow morning again.  The sword.”  I take it as she hands it to me to file – as trainer I’m also weapons master – and I pick the rapier and dagger combo.  I hand her the set to strap her belt on and I do the same.  We both test our weapons, stepping on the blade of the rapier and bending to find weaknesses, cracks or to test if the steel has lost its resilience and remains bent.  We check the daggers for bad edges or broken points.  These of course have all of those faults but this is the proper thing to do with new weapons before any fight and I insist the training includes every aspect of the official arena fight protocol.  In the arena, if a weapon shows defective and the weapons judge agrees it must be replaced with a new one.  A quick test can save your life.

We take our stances and begin.  You move much faster with the rapier.  It’s not meant to slash but only to stab.  It’s all body work, placing the body out of reach, parrying a thrust, jumping forward, backward, dancing, one arm out to maintain balance or to create a feint.  On Old Earth they called this ‘fencing’ though the term always amused me.  There is nothing amusing here, as these deadly blades keep thrusting at your naked flesh.  There is no place on the body you cannot stab.  All is fair game.  The extended arm, unlike in fencing, is there also to make that sudden grab for the dagger, in a killing move inside the challenger’s defence or to throw at a vulnerable spot to disable or kill.

Tiki has obviously trained on this set because her skills are superior to mine and her speed almost on par.  My bionic ankle allows me to take chances on balance which she cannot.  I can see her wondering how I do certain moves and trying to mimic them.  That’s what I want – to see her push herself beyond her set limits and discover new abilities.  Faster we move, parrying and stabbing with lightning strokes.  She scores on my thigh and I get her on the arm.  Gasping for breath and having drawn blood, I signal a break.  She pulls back and refuses to let me see she is tired and thirsty.  She holds the sword poised, ready to start again. 

I motion break again and gingerly put my sword down.  She jumps at me and if I hadn’t been expecting it and drawn my dagger to parry she would have had me in the heart.  I don’t think she would have gone through with the move this time, but in the arena nothing would have stopped her.  As it is I barely escape the thrust by sliding sideways and catching her just slightly off-balance, send her flying to the stones.  Then I pick up my rapier again to lunge but she’s already flying out of reach and ready to fight again.

Now she needs a serious lesson on obedience to a command.  I heft the rapier in my left hand, my dagger in the right and crossing them advance on her.  She attacks below the cross as I expected her to do.  Flipping the light dagger down and turning the rapier forward I trap her move and put the tip of my sword to her throat and push in just enough to draw blood.  She cannot move at all and does not know what to do.

“Drop your weapon, gora!” I order her in a deep throaty voice.  “Drop or die!”  She glares at me and drops it.  I pull back.  “Why did you not stop when I signal for break, Tiki?”

“I could finish fight.  I could kill challenger.  He drop sword.  I move in to finish…”

“You were caught in an evil fighter trance Tiki and I could have killed you.  You made a very big mistake.  Never do that again.  If there is a next time, you die for sure.  I won’t play these stupid games.  Death is always on the line and challengers never play games.” 

She lowers her face and holds her hands open and out to indicate her total acceptance and subservience.  “Yes master.  I very sorry.  Never, never do that again.  Too much into fight.  Trapped by desire to win.  Not play game.”

“You understand then.  Good.  I have news for you: arena fight next week.  Weapons choice made three days before the fight – you are very lucky to be given three days to train with chosen fight weapon.  You are a very lucky woman, understand?”     

This episode has strained our relationship somewhat and made me think.  Time for her to find another mate in the cages.  I approach the remaining “Concubine” – she calls herself ‘Satka’ and ask her if she would like to have another partner to train and fight with.  She looks at me with that strange look some women get when addicted to killing.  Dangerous, borderline dikfol even, but the kind I believe Tiki needs to associate with to learn the difference between her deadly inbred professional killer mind and that of an emotional killer. 

I ask as a favour to me, “Would you take my slave Tiki as your slave and partner?”

She makes a gesture and gives me a thin, crooked smile.  “Cannot refuse, Anti.  I take.  I watch her train.  She very good, hard fighter.  Together we kill men, many men.  I avenge my sister lover now, sure.  I take her.”  She hesitates then in a moment of daring, whispers to me,  “She come to me for night too?”

“Yes, No longer mine.  All for you.  Hope you and she good together.   Watch over each other.  Take care each other.  I not interfere in personal life of you and her, promise.  Yes?”

“Yes sir.  I do this.  I pleased; great gift to me.”  And for the first time since her arrival in Hyrete, Satka is smiling.   

So yes, I’ve become a manipulator.  But in my heart I know I’m motivated by compassion, there being no hope here of personal gain.  It is not easy to give Tiki up.  She has been my companion for some years now and I have motherly feelings for her.  I’m sending her into a new life, a dangerous unknown.  It seems a truism that whenever you want to help others improve their lives you will suffer loss and pain.  This has been true for me in hundreds of remembered incarnations.  If I wanted to break that pattern I should certainly have avoided this little trip through the crushing labyrinthine pressures within the confines of Malefactus… and specifically within the stone walls of Hyrete.

End blog post #91