Category Archives: Self-empowerment

“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.

 

 

 

 

Why can’t Man live in Peace?

[Thoughts from the mind of  ~burning woman~ ]

          Certainly, a question that’s been asked millions of times throughout history, in every part of this world. This topic should be utterly exhausted by now; nothing new to be added.  All the answers should be there, for all to see, as plain as plain can be.  But each time someone proposes an answer to the question, the question turns into a riddle that no one can answer.

          Does “man” enjoy the violence of war?  Yes, of course, even when hating the pain it inflicts upon himself and loved ones: a conundrum. Does man enjoy inflicting pain on others, and does it give him a satisfaction that goes even deeper than his sexual experiences?  Yes he does and yes it does. 

          Some blame religion for this and in a shallow sort of way of looking at history that is not so farfetched, even if that does not constitute an answer.  Some, having “rejected” religion claim that these unsavory aspects of “man” are all part of natural evolution; that the same can be found in all of nature.  Again, in a shallow sort of way; in skewed conclusions from a cursory look at “nature” one could derive such a thought, even if that too fails utterly to constitute an answer.

          Sometimes, in the night, in the depths of my infinite mind, I imagine a world without conflict of any sort.  No saved or damned; no chosen or rejected; no surviving fittest at the expense of the less fit.  In other words, a normal world not driven by bad religion, bad science and bad history.  What’s “missing” in that world?  It appears to be fear.  A normal world would not know fear.  There would be no danger from anything or anyone.  Each interacts normally with the other without demands; without pressure; without expectations. 

          What is the love of violence but a knee-jerk reaction to ever-present fear?  If you live in fear of being attacked, raped, plundered and killed, what is more “natural” than to take the initiative and live in ways to prevent this violence from catching you unawares?  Our current condition demonstrates that victims are those who live innocently; who trust “the system” to protect them; who are too foolish to protect themselves or have been pushed into a hopeless “lose-lose” situation, socially and economically.  Society’s victims are its fringe dwellers; its weakest members. 

Therefore, in this scenario, society is the predator.

          Define society?  Collectives of those who hold sway with power, be this religious, political or financial.  Those who “employ, print the money and make the rules thus empowering themselves to impose their desires and whims upon the rest.  Those who have no intention to ever share that power with the rank and file members.  That is society; that is man’s number one predator.  Then of course there is also the bully, and the mob from whom come abuse, rape, lynching and genocide.

          Back to the “legalized aspect. Since the beginning of imposed laws, we have had a serious problem: laws are invented to create fear and confusion; to disempower; to create a growing number of fringe-dwelling victims of society while promoted as necessary to maintain societal order or peace.  Laws create both, expectations from the law-makers they have no intentions of meeting, and fear for those who do not understand the laws, or simply cannot meet the requirements of those laws – because, again, laws are made by the predators to be foisted upon the prey. Simply put, laws are enacted by the elites and the elites are man’s number one predator.

          Through a legalistic process, “man” is brainwashed into institutional violence; forced to take sides when there really are no sides, just illusions created by the power-holders.  Man is endlessly pitted against himself by his power Matrix; an invisible and denied force that creates the sociopathic gods of religion; the corruption of politics and the increasingly unbearable life-stealing choke-hold of the global banking cabal aided and abetted by the military-industrial monster. 

          To “escape” this pressure man readily plunges into wanton violence.  Tell him he’s being threatened by a terrorist group and he will immediately react to the “news” emotionally.  He will feel an instant need to defend and avenge himself.  He will seek an outlet for his fear and he will find one, or the Matrix will open one for him through some psy-op; it will offer him a scapegoat individual or group to demonize or it will give him a “new” war that will require no justification beyond the state and corporate propaganda. 

Nothing new so far.

          But the question will not be answered in more bloodshed; in more imposition of power by the haves over the have-nots or vice-versa in a violent revolution. That sort of thinking has brought us to a state of permanent war and permanent fear of a sudden, accidental or deliberate state of nuclear aggression. Most may believe that they are not affected by the depredations of the power-movers but how little they know of the subconscious and what it can do to the body and the mind. This is not something that “free” health care, vaccinations or over-the-counter pill hand out can cure.  Man’s condition which I refer to as “condition red” is either going to be addressed squarely by individual man or it is going to bring man to extinction and not in a gentle good night either. 

         I know that man can live in peace. For me, that is not the question. The question is, how can man ever come to realize how much of a slave he is to his manifold systems, collectives, groups, institutions and invented divinities? Obviously not with any method that replaces one such entity with another, even if thought to be new. Certainly we’ve been there, done that and can all agree it has backfired in the worst of ways. So what then?

          Imagine being struck violently across the face with the obvious! Imagine the reaction to such an event! Who can argue against the obvious? Who can fight the Matrix with its imposed puppet leaders and their ever-present endless barrage of lies? 

          What’s this “obvious” that has such power? Ah, well, obviously the obvious is obvious.  That’s the first clue to grasping some understanding of it. It isn’t based on questionable theories or on carefully crafted institutional lies. That’s obvious. 

          The obvious doesn’t exist institutionally. It doesn’t show up in groups and collectives. It doesn’t empower mobs, churches, political executives or boards of directors. No, not even in marriages or between lovers.  No obvious to be found in any of those.

          Which leaves but one place where the obvious can be found and can clarify everything: the individual mind.  Interestingly, however that’s been denied to man since “the beginning” (whatever that entails). Surprise, surprise: every person has a mind; a totally individual mind that needs no connection to any kind of institutional complex to function properly and to develop ad-infinitum.  What a surprise, to discover that “man” is after all nothing less than an individual with an individual mind.  That “man” is not a creature belonging to some god, or an adjunct of some institution, or mob.  That “man” can think for himself; can choose, can decide, can take full responsibility for his own passage through life and can evolve himself as much as he wants to and absolutely nothing can stand in his way – no promise of heaven, no threat of hell and no fear of anything or anyone. 

          And that’s the obvious. Catch that, O man, and discover that you can live in peace; that you need not be a predator; that you are not a meaningless mote in a hodge-podge of neo-Darwinist evolutionary theories or a helpless victim of some super-power invisible sky wizard. Just remember the obvious… before taking the next independent step towards becoming human, the maker of peace.

 

Are You Game?

*re-blogging a comment*

The following is a comment received on  ~burning woman~  from Hyperion (Daniel) https://returnofdragons.wordpress.com/ as a reply to my post, “We Improve but we do not Progress” https://ixiocali.com/2020/03/15/we-improve-but-we-do-not-progress/

This isn’t saying that I agree with the basic premise here, but I’m saying it’s well worth considering. Is this our “Third Option” if we are to avoid a man-made “6th extinction? When I speak of “Third Option” I’m referring to the Abrahamic/Christian covenant (an apocalypse, then a new heaven and a new earth) as option #1 or inevitable scientific/technological progress as option #2. Option #3 is the individual self empowerment of all Earthians irremediably changing the nature of the species.  If option #1 is increasingly rejected and option #2 is encountering growing distrust, how do we achieve option #3? This WordPress blogger/contributor/writer dares put some thoughts down.

 Are You Game?
(from Hyperion)

I too am a student of history but I don’t subscribe to the thought we shouldn’t repeat history. We definitely should repeat history because the entire universe to include earth is based on cyclic events. For instance, the seasons of every year since the dawn of humans has repeated as well as night and day. The cyclic nature of humans also means that as we go forward in time we recycle our past. I will admit that these cycles don’t remain stationary but more like a wheel going down the road. Every time a specific spot on the wheel touches the road it is further down the path and a certain amount of time has transpired but it is the same wheel and it will stay in its original purpose until it is worn out and replaced by a new wheel.

What rarely changes is human nature and so, that human nature passed on to every generation will follow it’s nature tho the world has changed, the environment has changed, but human nature remains the same, we simply adapt to our living conditions whether that be environmental or technological or both.

We will go to war with new weapons and the same tactics used for 1000 years. It’s just my belief that progress and improvement of the species has not occurred because our nature has not changed.

I would argue we are so biologically polluted we are devolving instead of evolving. Go there to those helix coils and break the chains of no longer needed human traits of emotion, survival, companionship, and breeding. Break the need for self actualization and search for meaning in a meaningless existence. Burn out the desire for adventure, discovery, and growth of personal wealth by any means. It’s all possible. It could be done today. We have the means to turn ourselves into passive sheep where we can walk past hubris and suffering unaffected. We will feel no need to bind together. Life and death will occur without meaning or consequence. Our numbers will shrink until humans are a rarity on the planet and the earth can slowly heal itself of the horrendous scars and memory of our footprint on the planet. We can do this today or starting tomorrow at 8:00am at hundreds of labs across the world. We don’t now because that solution frightens even the most courageous heart. (That reminds me of Brave New World – comment by Sha’Tara.)

Without that courage to take control we are doomed in every imaginable way and in some ways unimaginable. If we look to the distant past at those species on the planet that five times were wiped out and what preceded (followed?) next, can we reasonably believe that a mass extinction, which is currently in full swing as I write this, isn’t going to affect the human population? Extinctions are historical cycles. Why do we think they won’t repeat even as the evidence shows it is happening now?

 The first thing that must change is how the human mind can not grasp reality that is pure and unadulterated. Our minds are drugs that make up the most far fetched realities and that Is what we believe is true and real. That is why we are doomed. That is why our only hope is to go to those helix coils and change them. We know how. If we do that we will change history and the next cycles will be far different. Are you game?

We Improve but we do not Progress

[an essay by   ~burning woman~  ]

Time, or the lack thereof, has become my enemy. Of course I realize that from the larger picture, time is not relevant, but I also realize that as a physical entity possessed of an Earthian body, I have to reckon with the time constraint, a real pain! I exist in a mental cage, a Matrix-designed prison in which no “greater thought” is meant to exist. Time, or what Earthians like to call past-present-future, controls thought, awareness, expectations. Nothing here is expected to exist outside of time – that would be unthinkable. Think, how important have time-measuring devices been throughout man’s various attempts at defining itself through his so-called “civilizations.”

It is possible, however, for some of us to push our mental awareness through the bars of the time jail and see from infinity. It’s a bit like traveling several magnitude beyond the speed of light (time and light being artificially tied together in the Matrix) and feeling the mind stretch as she pushes out into the past in order to see the future she is going into – not, as is popularly believed, creating. I do not create the future (there is no such thing as “my” future – not yet!) but it is possible for me to see it take shape if I make the effort to “see” and understand some of the past, that which I have already experienced, forgot about and now must learn to recover in order to make use of.

The real past does not exist within the artificial boundaries imposed by an equally artificial time machine. It certainly does not exist in any “historical” recording, those being even less meaningful in terms of understanding what a human being was/will be. Only a recovered once-traveled and experienced past can have meaning.

I used to be fascinated by history, my favourite subject in high school and I kept on reading and studying history long after I escaped the academic world. Then I came to certain realizations about reality, what it is, what it isn’t. Man’s recorded history became about as valid as using Monopoly money to purchase goods and services: there was a credibility gap that could not be breached. Man’s history, the collectively remembered and the recorded, was not so much a lie as pointless. Pointless as an exercise in recording it, even more so in reading it.

How did I arrive at that? Simple: nothing, absolutely nothing, is learned from history and nothing is gained by having some knowledge of it. It is irrelevant. What is relevant is what I can personally “remember” of what I experienced of past events, how those changed me and re-made me and how, as I collected that awareness, it opened the only trustworthy and meaningful window on a future that my remembrances gave me to look out of.

This will be the third time that I have read Stephen Donaldson’s science fiction “Gap” series. The title of this “essay” is taken from book 4, Chaos and Order: the Gap into Madness. “We improve, but we do not progress.” I imagine that for a programmed entity, such a thought is, well, unthinkable. How could we not progress if we are improving?

The question is, what do we mean by improving, or do we even have a clue what it could mean? What does it mean, for an intelligent, sentient, self-aware being, to “improve”? Does it mean that as a society, better put as a civilization, we are palpably, noticeably improving, in keeping with our claim to be living on a human scale? Does it mean we are improving in terms of developing “new and improved” human values, as individuals?

Yes, technologically we are undeniably improving. Many of the things we surround ourselves with today and take for granted would have been unthinkable just a few years ago.

But aren’t we existing as characters in a series of Marvel Comic books? Aren’t we in fact using Monopoly money to go shopping in our improved world? How meaningful to us as human being are any of our improvements? What are these improvements doing to us? Are they not stealing our minds and locking us in our “now” mental jail?

What is progress? What would it mean to progress? Wouldn’t progress mean becoming better people overall? More aware of our environment, of others? More eager to ensure that as we “improve” we are adding to the overall betterment of this world and all who live and exist on and within, it? Wouldn’t progress mean that we are breaking free of our killing rat race and our insane repetition of acts we time and again performed then swore we would never do again? Wouldn’t progress mean we strove to become more human by demonstrating our desire to display the quality of humaneness towards all life?

I will tell you, once again, what my window into the future is showing me. Think of the current baby pandemic called Covid 19, make it real and multiply that a million times. I see horror upon horror building up exponentially until the entire world is awash in desperation, violence, bloodshed and a total loss of humanity or humane expression. I see the utter end of this civilization and everything that made it possible – people and systems.

But then, at the end of all improvement, I see progress. A new beginning, none of it predicated on the old. I can see this future because I can see the past beyond historical/hysterical fake news and beyond collective memories.

Antierra Manifesto – blog post #94

“I’d like to have friend #1334-02-28 if it pleases.”  He enters the numbers and motions me to head for the cages where the guards wait for further orders.  He walks to another hut and two handlers walk to the cages behind me.  I am let in to my space and soon the ‘transfers’ are done.  I move into Swala’s cage; Tieka is moved to Zel’s cage.

End blog post #93
_______________________

Begin blog post #94

What just happened here are the kinds of things that get you both loved and hated.  When people who have no power see others in similar circumstances apparently without real effort wielding external power, there is jealousy.  When such power brokerage benefits some, they will love you until you fail.  They never expect you to fail.  When you do they turn against you. 

So here’s my thought on the matter.  Methinks heroes should always die young, just after they have accomplished the one thing, whatever it was they set out to do and they should only set out to do one thing.  Then everybody is happy and there are, hopefully, no more expectations – unless they believe their hero is some sort of avatar.  Then the hero’s reputation will both rise and plummet as followers and detractors face off.  It’s foolish, it’s wasteful, it’s so human. 

The women in the cages will love me more than ever, that cannot be helped.  Friends of the overseer will hate me with a passion.  That cannot be helped either.  In the end I will fail those who love me and give satisfaction to those who hate me.  I will die a violent death.  The ones will feel abandoned, the others vindicated.  So I have learned.  So it must be.  Unless I am wrong about this, as wrong as I’ve been about so many other things since I came here.  I wouldn’t mind being wrong in this case!

I turn to Swala.  She seems happy to be with me, but I must ask.  “You want me with you, Swala?”

“I be happy with you, yes Anti.  Always, I like you.  Copy fighting and training ways.  Listen to Teaching.  You tell stories from stars, I always listen.  I believe all from you.  Trust, I do.  I be friend with you.”

There is a quiet, sensible kind of gentler energy to be with an older woman.  Older by our standards.  Swala is twenty years old and has already survived many fights in the arena, few of them fair.  Strong, muscular, heavier than most fighters, she is a favourite for the gamblers and for that has paid a heavy price already.  She carries many scars and ugly welts on her back – result of some ‘unofficial’ flogging probably received in some drunken sex orgy.  Doesn’t matter.  I move against her and we begin to doze off together, nothing left to say that isn’t better left unsaid.  As with Tiegli, this is the closest thing to what the Cydroids would call mind touch. 

You wonder I did not say, “Deirdre”?  Ah but with her the mind touch was always cancelling out by our carnal feelings for one-another, our “need” of each other.  Every time we got close to the knowing it was like poking your finger in a mirror surface of a small pond.  Any reflected image there is broken up.  No, our mind touch, such as it was, could never be pure, no matter how good a thing I thought we had or I wanted to believe we had.  It was always spoiled by the ‘shattering’ energy of hormonal action.

It’s good to just be with a friend during the night.  Especially when your feelings won’t let you decide whether to be happy or sad with your situation.  I enter the Teaching: from sorrow, of which I have plenty here, comes joy, always.  I embrace that joy tonight.  Once embraced it more than suffices.  That’s the thing about joy, you know?  It is self-fulfilling.  If you experience joy in that moment it is impossible to know less or more of it.  It manifests only in completion.  That too is part of the Teaching.

Morning comes, clear, beautiful, clean.  The purple glory of early morning sky has faded, giving way to reveal a deep turquoise blue painted from battlement to roof to battlement across the top of the old keep.  This means no desert storm blowing sand in the sky.  It also means we should enjoy the morning freshness for the rest of the day will bring on oppressive heat.  After our meal we wash and begin our training ritual.  No fights scheduled for today since the fixed one was cancelled.  Our male trainers are less truculent than usual and I wonder if my judge friend has had a meeting with them and laid the law down.  That has happened at times in the past. 

As weapons master, even though the title must remain unofficial, I oversee the distribution of the weapons and how they are handled by each fighter even before they are used.  I insist on the ritual of awareness to be practiced by every trainee.  It took me years to have the male trainers and handlers turn a deaf ear to my exhortations to the women; to ignore the silence rule in this instance.  They are not so stupid they can’t see the results of my teaching on weapons handling.

Thus I address the women each time I am the unofficial overseer (nor do I address them in their pidgin but in proper language):

“Every weapon you hold becomes your friend and it seeks to accomplish three basic tasks: to protect and defend you and to defeat your enemy.  That is the energy it carries; the purpose for which it is made.  It knows this.  That is no different than how a fighter is bred and becomes a member of the female ‘fighter elite’ that you are.  As your bodies are bred for a specific purpose which allows you to fight men who are stronger and heavier than you and to defeat them time and again, so your weapons are ‘bred’ to defend and to attack.  You have no other purpose, neither have they.  So know your weapon well before every fight.  Handle it with pride and use it only with the best of skill you possess.  Never get sloppy with a weapon for if it loses respect for your grip, stance, methods, it will fail you.  It will not let you down if you do not let it down.  This is a great teaching that goes beyond weapons to everything in the land and the sky.  It is the teaching on balance of energies. 

You know of scales?”  They nod affirmatively.  “Good, when you see scales tip one way, you have two choices: either you step on the heavy side and cause the tipping to complete swiftly, or you jump on the lighter side and cause the balance to be restored.  The master must know beforehand which step to take then take it without hesitation.  This you must understand as fighters: whether to join the heavier force and cause it to fall, or oppose it and cause it to hold.”

This too I consider part of the Teaching.  Making the women aware that everything possesses its own spirit; its own force through awareness of purpose and surroundings.  That inanimate “objects” so-called have energy.  That energy fields, or forces, contain sentience causing them to hold together.  When we enter these forces or manipulate them we join with them and become a part of them.  This is life.

“As with human partners, if you have a special and precious weapon, say a sword that you treasure and with which you have won many battles, you do not, at the end of the fight, throw it in a pile with other weapons of various kinds to be handled or even taken by anyone.  I could tell you stories of very ancient times when knights (they were a special class of fighter) kept their swords in scabbards that were worth more than the sword itself, in terms of money.  They inlaid precious stones in the scabbards, the holding belts and even in the hilts of their blades.  It was their way of telling their sword friend how much they appreciated them.  And know this, that if the knight was ever in dire straights and became poor, he may sell his horse, his armour, the very scabbard and belt that held the sword, but he would never sell the sword.  If he could not carry it openly, he would find a place for it, wrap it carefully in oiled rags and hide it with the hope that in better days, or at great need, he would find it again.  Thus many old swords were found again by new fighters and new tales of heroes born from difficult times.

“Now hold your weapons high and salute life.  Salute victory.  Salute the goddess who slowly awakens to you as you awaken to her.  Our days are coming, as surely as the seasons change.  Hail to the weapons!”

Each time we go through this ritual the women barely restrain themselves from cheering.  These are the moments that inexorably change the face of Malefactus. 

End blog post #94

Surface Intelligence and the Rabbit Hole Life

        [thoughts from ~burning woman~ by Sha’Tara]

In a finite environment where there’s birth, there has to be death. There’s no way around that one. We know that, we accept that. Just like everything else here: it ages and sooner or later, it dies. This is a “pay to play” world. We pay the price of admission (pain) to enter, hang out for the time allotted by paying a steep rent, then when we can no longer pay, we have to leave. If not perfect – and it certainly isn’t – it’s a system for all of that, and it seems that whatever life expresses here, it has accepted the situation and is making the best or the worst of it. At least that’s how I feel at the moment, subject to change without notice. That’s how it is with feelings.

Have you ever felt incredibly sad for no apparent reason? I would imagine everyone experiences that. Sadly, in this artificial, drug-crazed, noise-drenched, emotionally charged barbaric society such a state should be recognizable as a sign of some mental condition. If I dug deep enough I might to discover I had incurred some fictional trauma and I could tentatively label it PTSD, and if I had a doctor, I would be diagnosed accordingly and handed a prescription for a bottle of very expensive poison pills which would then change my “condition” to a worsened condition to be diagnosed later by a “specialist,” given a new acronym malady and “managed” with more bottles of poison pills, some added shrinkology, more acronymed maladies, more pills, perhaps even a week or two in a psych ward.

I’ve never taken those pills myself since I took the red pill before I became a teenager, but I’ve seen a great many of them and when I looked at them a certain way, they all looked blue. Of course I’m referring to the red pill/blue pill concept made famous by the first Matrix movie.

I live my life in the Rabbit Hole, you see, but I do come out time and again to see how things are going here. They’re not, but hardly anyone notices, so I guess it’s all good – for them.

Just because I took the red pill and live my “real” life in the Rabbit Hole doesn’t mean I can’t relate to life on the surface. I can. In fact, having been changed by the red pill, I realize my place “here” is to practice and develop my RH (Rabbit Hole) empathetic nature. In the RH we control events so that when something begins to go askew, we can change it at will. But here, on the Surface, the sentient life doesn’t have control. It doesn’t know where the controls are located and it would rather trust those who claim to have the controls than try to find them for themselves. That causes serious problems because as most are aware, those who have the controls can decide where the ship sails to, or what the torpedo hits or putting it more bluntly, who lives and who dies before her time.

I find that incredibly sad. Why have intelligence if it’s not going to be used? Or worse, used wrongly, to support and encourage lies? The worst kinds of lies? Surface intelligence relies on Systems to make its life possible. Its three main systems seem to be Religion, Politics and Money. What is truly unbelievable is that Surface Intelligence is fully aware that all three Systems are corrupt and rotten to their very core. But somehow this SI (Surface or Sentient Intelligence) manages to convince parts of itself that despite all the overt corruption, there are some parts that can be tolerated. Lesser of evils and all that – that line is much used and abused at “election” time.

That’s called living in Denial, and it’s a formally accepted part of Surface Life. Denial is a favourite surface recreational resort and you are forcefully encouraged to spend most of your life in Denial . When living in Denial ultimately fails, Hope comes forth, looking Bugs Bunny fashion coy, even charming in a sense, “Eh, what’s up doc? Need some reassurances?” and seduces SI with various believable arguments that with persistence and dedication whatever is wrong with the System can – “of course!” – be fixed. A favourite lately is the voting thing. It used to be going to church and lighting candles… or going to war, basically it’s all the same thing because none of it changes anything, but don’t tell the SI that, they would get “vewy angwy… vewy angwy indeed” and you may find yourself chased by a silly looking little guy in a funny hat and a not-so-funny shotgun.

SI likes to believe (Yes, SI is all about belief) that it’s totally sane in its one and only reality. It’s Rabbit Hole (RH)Intelligence that’s crazy. According to SI, any world that can be controlled by its Intelligences; that can be righted if it goes off the rails, can’t be a real world. Or it’s totalitarianism. According to SI, individuals should be taught that they have power but contrariwise should never be given any. If by accident some SI’s discover they have bits of power, they can talk, or write, about it but most indubitably cannot use it without violating some SI rule or law. SI controllers would burn people to death for that not so long ago. Now they use drugs to counteract the effect of empowerment. They also use executions and torture, but they have standard explanations for that. SI’s accept the explanations as a matter of course. The greatest necessity in an SI world is to believe. The SI world’s innate insanity is always determined by the intensity of its beliefs.

The problem isn’t all due to ignorance and stupidity and selfishness. It also stems from the fact that the inventors and enforcers (of the Belief Systems) are faced with an infinite number of arbitrary laws, rules, and regulations, most of which they can’t keep track of. This gives rise to ridiculous performances, especially in the Religious, financial and legal system. It’s called interpretation. On the legal side, SI’s have high priests of Interpretation which they call Supreme Court Judges. These high priests have the last word on how certain rules are to be enforced. This isn’t justice, of course, but cheap drama, replete with laughable powdered wigs in some places, ridiculous robes and wooden mallets, a lot of bowing, standing and sitting and calls of “order or I’ll clear the court” dramatic utterances. Substance? Why? It’s just another “controlled substance” that’s all about control.

Rabbit Hole Intelligences, (that’s me, in case you forgot) don’t have long lists of laws and rules, they make them up as they see fit, and drop them as soon as their need is over. They’re called “Common Sense Rules.” Let me point out one instance of Common Sense Rule. It has to do with clothing. Much of the world is quite temperate and in those areas the wearing of clothes is optional at all times. Ah but wouldn’t you know it, there are “taboos” on nudity and because of that – and who cares what prompted the taboo in the first place, no one remembers – it is necessary to dutifully feel incensed and “report” anyone daring enough to show too much skin, especially to the “public.” An RH, of course, would naturally and happily go naked when the weather doesn’t mandate the wearing of clothing. The point would be to live frugally on one point (clothes aren’t cheap for those who can’t afford them) and not suffer hypothermia on the other. That’s called Common Sense. Contrary to popular “public” belief, Common Sense is not a drug.

Other CSR rules? There’s the sort of rule against stealing but if “stuff” was shared by all and made available to all, that rule would be rather redundant, wouldn’t it. And no one could feel self righteous by punishing another for taking something needed because no one could lay any special claim to any of it. Where everything belongs to everyone and no one, theft is not possible. By the same token, neither is hoarding. But what an insane idea: imagine where that would leave that special class, the 1% of world-class hoarders?

One of the really big rules laid upon the SI’s of Earth is against murder. Thou shalt not kill is a seriously main rule, and if violated, the perpetrator can be given a life sentence, even be executed. But again as the RH (remember, that’s the Rabbit Hole denizen here) observes, murder is only murder when done one-on-one. When it is done with weapons of mass destruction because a member of the 1% hoarding class wants control of a specific resource, or a piece of property called a nation, then it’s totally justifiable, and often praised. Those who do the killing, well some anyway, are sometimes rewarded with medals and bits of coloured cloth. If they are dead, their nearest of kin is given a flag and the victims of the dead person are further demonized, especially if they lost the war.

When a RH resident comes up among its ancient relatives, among SI’s, it’s natural that it will feel a terrible depth of sadness. Only by returning to its RH world can the sadness be relieved. There are no cures for such sadness (it’s now called depression and yes there are drugs and “treatments” for that) among SI’s whatever the claims of its high priests of System Interpretation. There’s anger and violence or suicide, that’s about it.

And in case you’re still wondering: there are no drugs, no doctors in the Rabbit Hole. Come to think, I don’t remember seeing any politicians, police “men,” business “men” or clergy “men” and I never saw any money changing hands, just stuff being exchanged with smiles and laughter.

How corny. Doesn’t it make you want to lob a grenade in there?  But you have to find it first.

 

 

 

 

Antierra Manifesto – blog post #92

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


Begin blog post #92

Chapter 37 – Tiki’s First Arena Contest – Love Speaks

There was no scene when Tiki found out I’d let her go to be with the Concubine.  If anything it was a relief for her because she was under the impression I was angry at her.  She understood intuitively that my decision was for her benefit, not because I was angry.  She had grown up and needed a real partner and lover now, not a mother, which mostly I had been to her.  She had enough of the Teaching also to develop her own mindset regarding what is right and what is wrong.  There was time for that.  With the Concubine she would be able to hone her professional fighting sense.  She would be better matched with a peer and teach even as she learned more.  This venture should even them out a bit, taking the more dangerous edge from both of them.

She smiles more now and treats me as more of an equal.  This is good, although I worry about her still.  Especially today: it’s her first match and she’s already been taken from the cages to eat the traditional chakr-laden food of the fighter, alone.  Her opponent challenger I’m not too concerned about.  He is no professional fighter and to prove it, chose the obvious: the two-handed sword, thinking as is their wont that it would give him the advantage as a physically stronger male.  When he came to observe Tiki fight with the various weapons I made sure that she was doing it with me and demonstrated a very poor understanding of the long sword.  I made her look even worse by forcing it out of her hands and sending it flying, then tripping her with my sword pointed directly at her heart.  Even Tiki was fooled by the move and thought I was getting my revenge for that week-ago fighter trance idiocy.  I did not explain.  Just withdrew the sword and let her stand to retrieve her lost weapon, her face deeply flushed.

It was enough to convince the male challenger he had found her weakness and jump at the chance to choose the sword.  Well, it would be his last mistake, no doubt of that.

Two other fighters were prepared for the arena when we were let out of our cages to relieve ourselves, wash and eat, ready for the routine of training.  An hour or so later Tiki returned escorted by two handlers.  She was neither smiling nor scowling, just her usual plainly serious self.  I saw not one scratch on her as she drank, ate a light ‘lunch’ alone that all returning fighters not badly wounded earn.  After which she joined the training line-up, finding her partner.  Then she smiled – no, she beamed!  They certainly have something going those two and it’s good for as long as it lasts.

Near the end of our session I begin to inspect the cleaning and storing of the ‘weapons’ – I’ve instituted the unbreakable rule that all weapons, however poor, old or worn-out, be treated as if they were the best ever made and fresh from the forge.  I inspect them for dirt, blood, sweat.  Blades must shine with oil.  Handles must be clean.  If they show signs of handle wrapping unravelling they must be re-wound, tightened and knotted.  Only if tools are required for the repairs do I put them aside for kitchen staff to sew or forge to repair. 

While I’m doing this two young men approach me and make as if they want sex with me.  Surprised surely, but having no choice I follow them to an empty hut.  Once inside, one of the men, a trainer, puts his hand out and takes mine very gently. 

“I be Tieka man Hudu…” he begins with understandable hesitation.  The handler takes my other hand and says,

“I too be loving woman fighter and I friend of Hudu.  I be Huntu.  We be needing to escape from Hyrete soon.  Tieka no fight.  Say love stop her hurting man.  I afraid for Hudu and girl woman.  Need to help, maybe I too escape, take woman.  Go south, deep desert there, hide in storms from great eye.”

I shudder when he mentions the ‘great eye’ and ask, “What is great eye?”  He points into the sky,

“Albaral.  It sees.  It knows when things not right.  If people run, reports to Council.  When your lover escape, news come from Albaral.  No alarms given, yes, but they know.  They see something strange in desert, like fire shooting into sky – maybe sky boat.  We told by leader; cannot chase sky boat.  Need terrible storm to block great eye.  Not just cloud, need Desert Beast Fire in sky.”

I gather he means the kind of lightning generated by great sand storms.  Ah well, didn’t I know that about Albaral!  It is an observation post, an active satellite – but who really controls it?  No matter now.  I have to digest this new information and see how many more astral rabbits I can pull out of my hat and have hidden up my non-existent sleeves.

“You right to tell me.  But what I do?  I slave woman, old, tired.  Die soon maybe.  How I help?”

“Not know, we do.  But know you very wise.  Have many tricks.  Have friends.  You they say daughter of Great Desert Beast.  You they say is Teacher.  You they say will know.  We just ask.  We trust you as man.”

Well, that is quite an admission and confession.  The words, ‘We trust you as man’ coming from a man to a woman slave may not have been uttered on this world for hundreds of years.  Am I making an impression here?  No time to explore this further as I must return to the line-ups or we become suspicious.  I wave my hand, “I think.  Speak to trusting women.  Pray to goddess.  Find way, always we find way, friends of goddess.  What be Huntu woman name?”

Huntu replies, “I not know name.  She say secret woman name, for goddess only.  She be 1336-14-09.”

“Listen Huntu.  I call her ‘Zel’ so she has name to call, yes?”

“Zel is name, yes.  Thank you sir.”

Before we emerge I insist they make fun of me as if they’d had a good old time with the crone.  I look angry to convince handlers that I did not enjoy myself.  They are pleased at the cruelty and indicate so with lewd finger gestures at the two young men who must pretend they enjoyed themselves too.  While I eat I ponder my role in this new drama and certain crisis.  I can’t always go running to the doctor and Cydroids with every problem.  How do we, women, tackle this with any possibility of success if I do not involve my friends?  But what right do I have to compromise their work here?  None.  That I will not do.  If we are to ever succeed we must find it within ourselves.  If others choose to become involved later, that will be their choice.  Maybe I’m being stubborn; maybe, who knows, I’m becoming senile.  But I see much farther than I did when I came here.  Not so far that these people cannot share my vision, just farther than they yet realize they can see.

Well first I must identify the slave 1336-14-09 I call ‘Zel.’  She is three years older than Tiki (1339-32-19) so around eighteen to twenty.  A fighter in her prime.  Tieka is a thirteen year old kitchen gorok, just arrived this year in Hyrete.  Her brand would read, line one #1328-04 – born 1328, class 4 – bred fighter; line two 1341-15-07 for admission year, batch, number in batch. 

I better explain this strange record keeping of female slaves.  It’s quite simple actually.  The important brand dates refer to admission to Hyrete keep and batch numbers.  That is how females are auctioned off, not by birth date.  This could seem confusing to some.  Batch numbers are important to buyers as they are used to trace the crèche where the slave was raised and the kind of ‘product’ it is reputed to contain.  Every ‘batch’ comes from a particular crèche in Elbre and sometimes even beyond.  They are all official birth places. 

“Wild” slaves such as myself, rarely found, even rarer they manage to survive the rapes and tortures suffered in the orgies, are branded by admission year plus a #-1, meaning number of ‘wilds’ and non-crèche raised.  These brands are usually found only on the black women captured beyond the desert.  For whatever reason, although they are physically taller, stronger and superior in weapons handling, the men of Malefactus have not seen fit to breed them.  Or perhaps they have and the breeding program failed.  They are moody and very dangerous.  They seem to be missing an essential element of the ‘normal’ ISSA mental make-up due to breeding or evolutionary branching.

End blog post #92