Codex Pontifex

One of the most amazing things I learned at Faire this year is that everything is better on a stick. Steak on a Stick. Chicken on a Stick. Fried Macaroni and Cheese on a Stick. Sausage on a Stick. Then I figured out why Christianity was so successful for 2000 years. It’s just Salvation on a Stick.

One of the things that I have often preached, taught or otherwise ranted about over the last decade is the enchanted life. I think I have lived it at various times only to get caught back up in the rat race under the illusion that I was somehow supporting a family or saving money for some big adventure. Hogwash. I was afraid of the future. I feared the unknown.

I don’t think that success comes from hard work. Success comes from active work. It doesn’t have to be "hard." That’s merely an antiquated and artificial morality left over from the myth of the Fall in Eden taken to an extreme by Protestant Capitalists to get more work out of fools by preying on their fears of eternal salvation.

I spent part of last night wondering if it was really worth it to work a grind every day just to pay bills over and over again; and then wondering if there was actually a simpler life to be lived without all the mess. That was depressing.

I was just woken up by a loudly dreaming dog to a Backstreet Boys song playing on the laptop that was the same song playing in my own dream of a Victorian wedding … umm … uhh … that’s something I won’t forget anytime soon.

I am going to guess that now is the time when the line between truth and lies is about to become very, very clear. And those who choose the side of lies will have to live with their consequences.

When I rip the skin from around your soul and feed it to the wind, you will wish you’d simply kept your Word.

I think that things are about to get really complicated or really simple and it’s going to happen really fast. The only real question that will remain: how fast does your head spin?

For those who continue to miss even the short bus, this isn’t about control. I have enough of that. It’s about just being tired. Everything in life shouldn’t have to be a fight. But, for me at least, it is. And I’m tired of fighting for the most basic things that others seem to get by hook or crook or stomping all over others like animals while I prefer to be an honest human being.

I’m done. I won’t treat people like that. I won’t stoop to the level of having my most base instinct control how I function. I won’t abandon that which I love for primal satiations. And I won’t allow myself to be self-deceived by those who merely wish to play at life rather than seriously live within the enchanted elements that make it worth living in the first place. The paradox, admittedly, is more than most can understand, but it’s truly worth it once you can grok the enchantment.

But, yes, I’m done. Time isn’t relevant. It’s just a matter of time. And there is plenty of it left. How much of it I will use is debatable. And it very much depends on whether I have to continue fighting for every breath or if by some miracle a rowdy band of travelers suddenly appears to make this journey worthwhile.

In order to live life fully, one must let go of the mundane in the way of being attached to it over all other considerations. I did that, mostly, a long time ago.

Such a lifeview dissolves most of the possessiveness in relationships, the jealousy is rare, the commitment is stronger, the control factors are minimized, and there is an element of enchantment that permeates life itself.

So few recognize this and would prefer to play artificial games over living a life of spontaneous enjoyment.

Yes, I do see those who play games and sit around doing nothing at all in order to further some irrational facade as whores. Not in some sexually perverse manner, but whores nonetheless. There is no good reason to be sitting anywhere that isn’t conducive to one’s mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual health. Anything less is mere whoredom to the detrimental.

It’s difficult at times to watch people around you just not "get it." So much of the last two years I have wished that I could just go back to the blue pill, to just being able to close my eyes and forget all that I know, all that I see, all that I have experienced. I want to forget everything that makes me alive.

Because being alive hurts.

I watch people around me who claim they feel pain but who live in such a way that they either blow it off and ignore it or have suppressed it so far down that it might as well be nonexistent anyway. They live like automatons. They are passionless. I cannot imagine how to live that way. But I cannot tell you how many days I envy such dead, monotonous existence without caring about anything but the most primal of instincts in myself.

Only a moron would suggest that many of the biblical events lack historicity. The problem rests in the stress of that aspect and a lack of understanding of why those events are recorded as opposed to other historical events in the rest of the world. Just because the bible records an event does not impress anyone of sufficient intelligence. And stressing it misleads the ignorant into thinking the bible–and the Old Testament, specifically–is more than what it is: a theological rendering (or perspective) of a tribal history. Nothing more.

I have decided just to smile a lot. Nothing more. Nothing else. Just smile now. Hopefully that’s what some will remember.

Wandering around blindly is better than sitting down staring at one’s feet going nowhere.

I watched the universe explode. I’m not sure that I’m really interested anymore in continuing to put all the pieces back together again. I’m sure I will because that’s what I do. But why? To what end? By what logic do I torture myself to see a perfect world in the midst of the darkness that Men weave for themselves.