I’ve actually made a lot of mistakes, and seemly continue to do so, and probably will until I’m very dead.

The specific mistake I’m referring to is teenager-esqe arrogance. Somehow it carried through until just very recently.

I don’t have the answers… I never did. I have a few ideas of what could be cool, and might work, but answers? The Truth?

Nope.

Education is a bitch. If you’re really learning, it’s a continual process of revelations of ignorance. Every bit of new information shames your long-held, uneducated beliefs. By the end, you get to that point where you can barely move, unable to speak, as the level of you unknowledge is fathomless. People come to you for answers, and all you can do is say, “I… I don’t know.”

If you want a career, you have to back up that with “But, here’s some cool ideas that might work.” You swallow the shame of your ignorant opinion, taking some solace in that fact that no one else seems to know, either.

I’ve recently discovered that civilization itself is unsustainable, and taking it down is the key to establishing real, true and lasting sustainability for humanity and the planet. But that’s all I know, and I’m not even sure that’s the entire picture. I don’t have alternatives, just “someday” ideals that could come to pass. I don’t know how to save people and stop the destruction of the planet. I don’t even know how to save myself and the people I love without going to jail or worse.

I’ve taken the entire weight of the world upon my shoulders, and I know that’s not enough. There’s so much more to this than I’ve discovered in this short period of education. I cannot shift, like so many others, to some idea of salvation, some simplistic fix-all solution that is entirely out of my hands. Everywhere I look people are giving up, because they can’t handle the decent, the revelation of the terrible truths and the fact that we all, every one of us, are all individually responsible for it, and are equally responsible for changing things.

I decided, long ago, that I wouldn’t take the well-traveled path. I knew then, as I know now, that it’s not going to be easy. So far it’s been hell. But god damn, I couldn’t live any other way. How could I just live a normal, shrugging as we kill the planet and each other, saying things like “it’ll all work out” and “everything will be fine” while perpetuating the problem?

I’ve recently been confronting mortality. We’re all going to die someday. It’s coming for me, and whether I have 100 more second, days or years, the final result will be the same. I can either look after myself, play it safe, not rock the boat, or I can get something done. I can do things most people are unwilling to do, because that’s who I am. I’m crazy. I’m a warrior. I have bones and muscles, breath and sight, and I can do something.

But what can I do?

I don’t know.

My first book, The Sharp Knife of Forced Simplicity, Volume 1: The Numinous Rebellion was published almost exactly three years ago.

I’ve learned a lot in that time. I’ve learned how the publication process works – at least with a certain business model of publishing. I learned what it feels like to see your name attached to words, on a bookshelf in a stranger’s house. I’ve learned about the overwhelming importance of proper and thorough editing. I’ve learned how hard it is to get honest feedback from friends, and I’ve learned that there’s nothing more disappointing than a lukewarm reception. I’ve learned that, obviously, views change through the years. I’ve learned that inspiration comes in shades. I’ve learned that actually researching a subject before you write a book about it is probably a good idea - ignorance is obvious to those already in the know.

That last point is something I feel like I should apologize for. I don’t want to spend my life re-inventing the wheel. My arrogance has been tempered (somewhat) by the revelation that my most exciting personal revelations are nothing new – their exploration and development as been going on for some time now. I can contribute more by knowing what has come before, and building on that.

I can’t fault my youthful impetuousness, and I can’t regret actually getting it done. The lessons learned from the experience more than make up for the debt I incurred to publish (and am still paying off on my credit card).

In effect, I feel like the book has served its purpose. A tool, in the right time and place, to make things happen. But like any tool that’s no longer needed, it has become dead weight – it takes up space, and I’m constantly moving it around, trying to find a spot for it. I’m better off, for now, without it.

I’ve removed the links to the Amazon page as well as the download page. I’ll be contacting my publisher and seeing how I can settle our account.

Sometime in the future (maybe sooner than later!) I’ll be able to post a revised edition for free download. It’ll be nice to have it as a point of reference, and for the random friend who decides to read it, it’ll still be there… hopefully with a proper editing this time!

 [We apparently have to have a talent show for our Permaculture class. Being rather talentless, I was somewhat inspired to write a poem (in a poor imitation of Blake). I don't write poems often (or at all), and again, this is obviously the first draft of a rough idea... but here ya go!]

Machinated man-made wretched wasteland wrestled my weary mind
and turned my awkward feet towards freedom’s golden lands
heavy, old, unfortunate man-made-man I came to find
no freedom’s land left to find, only dunes of golden sands

Distraught and downtrodden I sat my ass upon a rock
and asked the bright burning solar light above,
‘Where may man find relief for his flock
and enter in God’s sheltering love?’

Sun came down, hard and heated
and spoke not, nor cared
but by degrees my skin beaded
and I to more agreeable company dared

I climbed a sheer cliff face
where cold stones reached the sky
where wild wooly Winds raced
and, unchecked, should cause me to fly

‘Winds,’ I asked, while tears began to streaming,
‘to where should we now turn our heart?
What comfort’s home now opens to being?’
The winds raced on, on and nothing to impart.

Bruised and bleeding, no less in spirit
I came across a tiny cave in a shaded nook
the way dark, I decided not to fear it
and tumbled in, the world forsook.

Cool, not cold, the darkness embraced
the ground soft and supportive
the sheltering cave my spirit encased
and gave me relief from my motive

Enjoying some well-deserved shut-eye
I awoke in a start, surprised by the time
and found myself embraced by
something serpentine

The snake, not fat by fortune’s grace
thin and black and keen and dread
was no less long than a mile’s pace
and held me wrapped from foot to head

‘Sir,’ said I through strangled lips, ‘you’ve much imposed
the length of your body, it holds mine still.
If this is your cave in which I dozed
I throw myself on your goodwill.’

‘If it pleases you to let me go
though my trespass should warrant death
then I alone shall know
that a serpent’s love is best.’

The snake raised it’s skinny head
its eyes dark in the low light cave
its tongue flickering as it said
‘Stupid human, but brave.’

‘Tell me then, I must know,
by who’s love is your measure?
Tell me how you came here below
it would give me some pleasure.’

‘Certainly,’ said I, and began to recall
man’s cruel wasteland, beset by vulture’s stare
the Sun’s indifferent fireball
and the Wind’s callous air

My story seemed to sway the snake
a tear ran down a scaly cheek
and he said ‘Yes, my heart aches
for the world of man is bleak.’

He stood for a time, thinking
and presently loosened his hold
and composed himself, unblinking
among his many folds

‘Mankind cursed snakes,’ said he
‘For some original sin, I guess,
and forever after we are forced to flee
or face our eternal rest.’

‘If some serpent caused the fall,
to which your Jesus paid the price
why live you in wastelands all
and not regain Earthly paradise?’

‘We would’ said I, ‘if we knew the ways,
but at every step we seem to falter
we pray and pray for better days
but our knees bloody upon the alter.’

‘Then let this serpent make amends
for our previous transgressions!’
So saying, the snake took many bends
and made ready his mind’s possessions

Opening his mouth he began to hiss
and sway and swing and dance
and sang a song just like this
which held me in a trance.

‘Contrary to human belief
and may it be of some relief

that man’s greatest effort made
comes from a soil spade

misaligned he pulls apart
what was once nature’s art

but nature’s wisdom now allures
to bring together what occurs

and in sacred wildness find
the truth for all mankind

that a man must break his back
when he his functions forget to stack

and all of nature’s promenade
comes to him, ready-made

and all he has to do is bask
in the sunlight, simply ask

‘What, I wonder, is nature’s plan?’
and in finding answers, simple man

does not push, nor pull
nor take away from nature’s rule

but let’s God own design win
observe, step back, give a grin

for all your work is already done
be smart, design well and have your fun

Permaculture is the key
to mankind’s immortality.’

Thus sang the serpentine snake
slithering along the floor
his simple words put my mind to bake
as he gently showed me the door

Again outside, against the dew
the sun rose up out over yonder hills
my outlook changed, perceptions new
my body shook in wondrous thrills

unfettered, unshackled, fluid and sly
up those steep stone steps skipping
I sang my serpent song to the sky
and danced among the wild wind’s whipping

the hot golden sands I turned to run
between the boulders and dust so fine
I sang my serpent song to the Sun
and soaked in strong, sensuous shine

machinated man-made made ready my early arrival
mind at ease, awkward feet no longer stumbling
I carried with me now Nature’s Bible
and the force of tectonic rumbling

There’s a deeper power in all of this
much more than plants and maps
unending planetary justice
bringing greed to its collapse

Be joyful, friends, but please be wary
bear the serpent’s song in mind
the darkness is not ours to carry
so in wisdom’s light do shine.

I wonder why the word “nature” is used to describe such radically different things.

One definition includes all the trees, rocks, grass, water, animals, sands… those places and things which are least touched by mankind.

But another definition is used to describe the inner behavior of our own selves – our inner nature, what we are compelled to do, those things structured into our own nature.

I would like to reverse these definitions, just to see what happens.

What happens when we talk about the nature (behavior) of nature – how the trees behave, what the grass is compelled to do, how the streams react to the rain on an emotional level. What is the attitude of the forest? What bias does the prairie hold? Does the soil desire something, or is it aimless, even lazy?

Conversely, what does my inner forest look like? Where is my internal river? Do I have plains of the mind, mountains of the soul? Is there a sky of my being, one that storms and rages, only to celebrate sun rises and settings? When do my stars come out, and what mythical constellations are traced upon them?

Can I sit on my beaches, and look out across my oceans that reach far out beyond my sight?

I don’t believe in the arbitrary distinction between man and nature – everywhere is nature, even deep in a classroom or sterile lab, the heat of the city holds just as much nature as a rainforest.

What, then, do my inner cities look like? What kinds of people inhabit them, and what are their professions? What skyscrapers define my skyline? What historic churches sit nestled at special street corners? Are the people happy there?

Switched again – what is the road’s inner nature? Does a house really have a soul, a spirit, a feeling? Does the downtown really come alive? Is it happy that we are there, or do we impose upon it?

I don’t have the answers to these questions, but for some reason, just asking them makes me happy.

I finished Utopia by Sir Thomas More last night.

I think I've got the "looking at the camera while holding something" thing down.

I really enjoyed it! Not so much for the practicality of it (it was written in the 1500′s, after all), but for the somewhat radical ideas put forth… and very interesting. For a man who’s drive is to create a new society, any and all ideas are welcome, and a classic like this should have been on my “consumed” list a long time ago.

Say hello to Baseeka! Basica? Not sure how to spell it.
She’s the new SLC mouse-eater/mascot!

d'aww

http://mvccsa.com/ <— This is the local CSA website, where you can sign up and learn more about it.

I’ve been wrestling with this idea for years, but I think I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that might makes right.

“Right,” in this case, means actualized, manifest correctness. It does not mean, nor imply, any unrealized concept of correctness – that is to say, as understanding and experience increase, so to the potential for better rightness. Until that improved rightness is successfully implemented in the world, however, it is not right.

The method by which an improved right is brought to the world is Might. Ability. Power.

This means that any dominate thing is right, at this moment and in whatever place it holds power. To replace it with something new requires energy, attention – that is, a conscious effort to replace old with new. Without power this could never occur. We can say, then, that any concept that has failed to replace an old concept (or paradigm) is not mighty – that is, it is not right.

Rightness and might are contained within each other, and as each new and better form of right evolves, so to does the power it contains.

So consider this: You might be right, on your terms – but if that rightness cannot manifest in the world because it lacks mightiness, then of what use is it?

Recently, a friend of mine (who is an excellent blogger) “quit” Facebook. I say “quit” because, as she pointed out, Facebook saves ALL of your information (contact and “about me”, pictures, links, friends, groups, pages, and so on). The difference between an active account and a deactivated account is simply how long it takes to log back in. There really is no quitting Facebook – even if you took the time to manually delete everything, your account would still be available to FB’s database mining, and if you did decide to rejoin you’d just have more work to do.

I know, because I’ve tried it. I’ve done both the “simple deactivation” type of quitting, and the hardcore “delete everything” attack. MySpace had the decency to fully delete your account after a certain amount of time, but Facebook? Despite the two, maybe three times I’ve tried to leave… I’m still on my original account.

The role social networking has taken in our society has been commented upon by many a blogger, and honestly I don’t care that much. I remember the Time Before Cell Phones, when you had to call someone on a land-line and arrange social gatherings before they happen, having to go out of your way to contact people before you left the house. I remember when I found my cellphone had an email address, and I could email other phones right from my computer. And then… texting.

In the same way, I remember getting my first email address, and then my first web-based email address (still have it: rskrules@hotmail.com … back before Hotmail was bought by MSN). Then ICQ was all the rage, because you could type to another person In Real Time! Broadband hit around then, eliminating the ear-splitting scream of a dial-up and offering blistering-fast, always-on Internet. Then MySpace, a website offering the best of having your own website without having to learn HTML and signing up at GeoCities or Angelfire. I remember how Napster introduced me to worlds of music I had never heard before, and directly led me to spending hundreds, if not thousands of dollars on bands I never would have discovered without it.

This is good. I imagine this is what old men feel like, telling the kids what it was like back in my day. You little punks! 16-bit graphics are blasphemy!

What was I saying? Did I have a point? Oh yes…

I got this new smart phone recently – the htc Driod Eris – and it did something shocking. I booted it up for the first time (don’t get me starting on phone that have to “boot up”) and put in my email address to help integrate it into… I don’t know, the web? After setup was over, I went to enter in all the numbers I had written down on a Post-It from my old phone (see what an old man I am?) when I discovered that they were already in there. My brain stopped. How was that possible? Something wasn’t right… it took me a full day to realize that my phone’s “contacts” were actually my Google Mail Contacts. My email contact list. In my cell phone.

This…. thing instantly knew everyone I had ever emailed. But… no, this can’t be… It also recognized my Facebook friends and linked my gmail contacts to them.

My jaw hit the floor. This was no cellular phone, this was a device to divine internet contacts, where ever they be, and bring them to me at post-computer locations.

Before I had this phone, I used to think of three groups of people: people on my phone, my email lists, and social network lists (FB, MySpace, Twitter, etc). I could quit any one of these groups at any time, depending on my mood or situation, and the others would be untouched.

Now I think of all of them as one singular group: My Contacts. It doesn’t matter which contact in on which website or service anymore, just so long as we’re connected.

My personal feelings about Google or Facebook are now irrelevant. I have a Google-based phone, in which it is easier to add a new contact FOR MY PHONE via my COMPUTER’S WEB BROWSER… which happens to be Google Chrome. The people on my Facebook friends list are not just there so I can have friends – their updates and information (email, phone number, pictures, etc) are all vital parts of my contact web. I could no more quit Facebook than I could delete all the numbers off my phone. And I, in no way, actually hold or store my friend’s information – Google does that for me.

I’d be concerned if I wasn’t so apathetic to the whole thing. I know my information is being bought and sold. Soon all my personal information will be available to the highest bidders, and they can find out exactly where I am, who I’m with, what I’m doing and where I’m going. If they wanted, they could delete me outright and I would be powerless to stop them. In an instant my phone could be bricked, my Google account erased and my Facebook account suspended. Then what would I do? Where would I go?

Outside, probably. *shudder*

EDIT: Instantly after posting this, College Humor summed it up better: http://www.collegehumor.com/article:1806517

Part One: The Beginning of Time to the First Settlers

Part Two: The First Settlers to Today

It took me significantly longer than I anticipated to write these things. First, I put considerably more effort into writing them – I don’t think I put that level of research into any academic paper I’ve had. Second, I kept getting sidetracked by interesting stories and information that didn’t make it into (or had almost nothing to do with) the article.

For instance, upon reading how Central Park (the Square) was considered to be the center of the county (although it was off by a mile or so), I stopped reading, found a map, and traced from the original survey to the actual center spot. THEN I read that the county borders expanded at some point, throwing my original spot off… some hours later, by finally going off the current county borders, I found the place. …but so what? I guess I did use it for a picture, but I could have easily used a photo of the Square – learning where the center of the count was for my benefit, because I wanted to know.

It was a good project, on the whole, and I think people have been enjoying the fruits of that effort. I certainly feel enriched, being able to bust out facts and “did-you-knows” about relevant historical events during conversations with friends. Check ‘em out, maybe you’ll enjoy them too!