Grocers Do What?

For the purposes of fleshing out ideas for this anarchist blog, I’ve been reading a lot of anarchist literature.  I have to say that much of it has been focused on structural oppression.  Too much!  Yes, the individual is being marketed to themselves; yes, the environment which shapes us into the (pseudo) individuals we are has been dishonestly constructed by corporations.  Individuals are no freer in this society of fast food and Apple Computers than they are responsible of the forces which oppress us.  And that is a problem.

I will, however, not like to tolerate people clamoring over how corporate grocers are manipulating shoppers by putting milk in the back of the store.  The theory runs that milk is in the back of the store so that we will have to walk through the whole store to get to the product we so frequently need to purchase—milk.  The idea is that if we walk through the whole store we are likely to pick up an item or two while we’re at it.

I’m making reference to a lecture which I bought and have on my ipod.  Yes, I still own an ipod.  This lecture is by a man named Raj Patel.  And on a whole I found the lecture invigorating and well thought out.  But this point about the milk is really—and very simply—wrong.  It is wrong to bemoan the inner workings of the grocers, as they have conspired to have us all walk to the back of the store just to by milk, because there really are much much worse things plaguing our society.  It is wrong that when people are starving to death, here in our country, we bitch because we don’t have all that we want.

Please think about this carefully…I will.  I’m certain I’ve fallen into the privileged bitch fest role enough times to cause me to think twice before I ever say I’m being stifled by corporate politics.  There are anarchists who are walking the edge of just complaining about corporations and government.  Let us not stymie our so precious chance at revolution in exchange for a little idyllic wisdom.

We have to consider that our corporations and government have manufactured laziness and privilege in the midst of war and poverty.  And please, if you feel strongly about an issue, do not let my words inhibit you in any way.  But remember where you came from; if you are sucking the teat of privilege—represent.  Stand strong for the betterment of our society; what we need is people who are willing to take a few shots to the chin; we need them to stand for what is right—not what is better.

Working Together

Work is not necessarily demeaning.  And working for wages, disproportionately low, in regards to what a person produces, or maintains, is not by itself the root of our economic injustice.  We need to evolve, as anarchists, an understanding of our repressive culture which is not limited to monetary equality.

Collectivist work ideals would create an environment in which labor was valued as much as ownership.  This is important.  But it is important, not because workers need more money, and not because people have to over exert themselves over the course of a day’s labor.  Tough work—and making the sacrifices necessary, to be working—are themselves valuable resources for our society to be successful.

What we have in the twenty-first century is an economic structure which has defiled our social-culture.  Ownership—and technology—are more valued as a basis for the function of our society than is the basic needs of the masses.  Billions of dollars are being spent towards better utilizing technologies while there are people who are not working—and, as a result, cannot meet their own basic needs. 

People—and work itself—have gone the way of the simple nail; although the nail is a simple invention, it was once, of tremendous value.  At one time, a nail was considered so valuable that people burned down houses to retrieve the nails they were built with.  But back then nails were made by hand; and people who made nails were skilled craftsmen; their work was important to the function of their community. 

No longer is the work which is done to make nails restricted to a person who has knowledge or skill.  Nails are made by machines.  And most other things which are manufactured are as well manufactured without the need for skilled workers. 

Ironically, the nail was a beginning in the drive of mankind to be more adapted living in a larger—more structured, society.  But what has happened is that we have become so adapted to a social structure which is so complex that the simple needs of society have been brushed aside.  Globalization, from a boom in technology, which allows us to source work from all over the world, has uprooted our economic ties to our local communities.

I find most critiques of work politics to be bourgeois—buffeted by privilege—idyllic—and self-righteous.  I do not think that my work should get financial returns on par with that of ownership of the company which I work for.  I do not think that having to bust my ass to make ends meet is an injustice.   Very many workers do not need more money to get by; but we need as a society to step back away from the value misconception that more is necessarily better.

As we have grown more complex our society, too, has become less intimately connected with the needs of community—and of the individual.  Things which were once of great value—like workers—like nails—have become nothing more than commodities.  Culture has been supplanted by excess. Anarchy has to stand for a social structure which gives greater value to the contribution of useful work, but not necessarily with greater financial returns.  More money, in exchange for physical labor, will not negate the dehumanization of our economic system. 

Good Competition

I play chess.  Almost every day, at the coffee shop where I live, friends gather together to engage in battle—over a chess board.  We are not especially great players but we play with heart.  And we love the game.  Chess provides for me a common interest, which myself, and friends, come together over

Anarchist ideals may be found wherever the word camaraderie may be aptly used.  It may be idiosyncratic that I use a game—an avenue of competition—as a grounds for promoting anarchist ideals.  Anarchy is anti-capitalist at its most basic level; fault with capitalism lies, very squarely, on its competition base social dynamic.  But chess is fundamentally askew with mainstream, capitalistic, social dynamics.

I enjoy competing with my friends over a game of chess.  And I do not think that it is incomprehensible that we could have a strong competitive drive within society which would also be both peaceful, and egalitarian.  Competition does not necessarily divide people—and it does not necessarily create hostility. 

Before European colonialism, many cultures—like that of the Native Americans—were host to forms of competition.  LaCrosse was a sport invented by the Native Americans; I believe it served as a means to settle disputes between tribes.  And they lived a much more cooperation based culture than what we do, today. 

For a society to have a culture which functions from a competitive basis, but bears no ill will between competitors, there must be more at stake in the camaraderie. Between competitors, there has to be more gained through sharing an interest than what may be gained from victory.  In chess, I find a group of friends with which I commune with.  Our friendships are far more important than is any one person’s prevailing at the game. 

Competition can strengthen solidarity which exists between two people.  Losing in competition can incite a person to give greater attention to their rivalry.  And rivalry exists between people who consider themselves equal in strength or skill.

Our culture of competition could be rectified from the debased nature which it has taken on if our political system did not impose wastefulness and deceit.  Community must come before social status—sharing must take precedent over ownership—and camaraderie before financial gain.  Existing within our society are micro-cultures that demonstrate the ideals fundamental to a cooperative environment which still has space for winning and losing.

Holler Out

Holler out

Top of your lungs

Loud

And people will turn

Will look

Whisper soft

To a good friend

And your words

Will touch her heart

Souls

Find in softness

Courage

Find in whispers

Strength

Inside

Lay in formlessness

Stillness

And subtle wisdom

Be

I lost my job teaching skiing thirteen years ago; and it was this, seemingly innocuous event, which precipitated my journey through madness.  But adversity makes you stronger—and solitude makes you wiser.  All things which consumed me during my years spent in isolation—my years of emotional retreat—served to make me more capable of affecting the collective consciousness from my platform of recovered schizophrenic.

Delusions of grandeur, along with paranoia, were terribly defeating to my ability to remain steadfast to the here and now while I was suffering.  Suffering was in the shape of having a contorted ego—in trying to fit something very large into a very small space.  For ten years of my life, I thought I had been one of the greatest generals in history.  All ten of those years were spent in tremendous self-pity.

Five years went by—while I was psychotic—before I was diagnosed with schizophrenia.  After receiving this diagnosis, and responding by attempting suicide, I was placed in a group home.  And there the journey—through madness—which has planted me firmly in my most intimate expression of myself which I can muster—took a marked turn for the better.  At this group home, which was in Castleton, Vermont, I began seeing a psychiatrist.  He recommended to me that I journal about my military service. 

Beyond journaling, which I’m sure helped me to dig deeper into myself, I began to do one hundred mile bike rides, once a month.  Exercise, as my psychiatrist put it, was one of the very best things for my mental and spiritual health.

Schizophrenia is not easily brushed off—doing one hundred mile bike rides—and journaling—still left me with too many unanswered questions.  A lot of soul searching would have to be done before I could live with the challenges I faced then, and still do today.  I had to understand that it was not a result of a deficiency of my character that I was hopelessly lonely—and poor.  And I needed to see that I was indeed strong; this was a lesson that wasn’t learned until I broke; not until the self-destructive nature of schizophrenia was exacted on my soul.

I left the group home where I did one hundred mile bike rides and maintained for a short while.  But then I regressed.  I had this lingering fear that if I didn’t spend the rest of my life in jail that I’d be the most tortured man in history. 

Some things which we experience in our lives are too intricately woven into the fabric of our character to be public knowledge.  I had a moment which I so desperately lost my sanity that I had to be put in jail—and, eventually, involuntarily committed.  I do not share what occurred that resulted in this punishment with anyone but my very closest friends.  I am, however, very fortunate to be able to say that no one was hurt and no permanent damage was done.

Eventually, after educating myself about schizophrenia, and receiving treatment in another group home, I came to realize I had not been a general. 

When you manage to peek through the underbrush of an alternative reality, you get hit.  Stepping forth, out of my journey through madness, brought with it a not just a feeling of accomplishment, and not just gratefulness either.  I felt almost immediately that I had to rectify my wrong doings; I felt I had to make up for lost time.  All the years of being someone other than myself fueled a desire to be more of the person I was meant to be.  I wanted to be stronger than I had ever been.

Needing to be stronger than ever before fueled my recovery.  I began blogging on my recovery process, daily.   And I began taking seriously the craft of writing.  Almost as soon as I got started, I saw fruits of my labor.  Because of my blog, I was invited to speak at the State House here in Vermont.  I would also (in a round-a-bout way) find work as a peer professional.  Work I did as a mental health advocate culminated in 2014 with a rally I put on for mental health awareness s month.

And then I set a new year’s resolution heading into 2015.  I decided it was time to get off of disability payments.  Almost as soon as the New Year started, the universe spun me around, and I was forced to resign from my position as a peer professional at a very good social services agency.  My years of work to be the strongest mental health advocate that I could be, took a sudden hit.

Among the more radically minded survivors in the peer movement, people like to think that their suffering served a purpose.  I vehemently stand by this point.  I feel that surviving schizophrenia made me much stronger.  Basically, the idea that psychosis can lead to tremendous insight into the soul, refutes a conception in psychiatry which attempts to have people return to “base line.”  Base line is the level of functioning that preceded the psychotic break.  And for a long time, I resisted the notion that I would only be able to resume a life which held as much richness as what I had before my fight for sanity.

Stronger, wiser, and more educated, I am.  But I’m still the very same person—at my most intimate level—which I was before I lost my mind.  And that’s pretty fucking great because I had a lot going for me.

Getting caught up in being better, stronger, and more outspoken was defeatist to my being in the here and now.  Any feelings of grandiosity, whether brought on by psychosis, or by a lingering feeling that something better is out there for me, took away from the simplicity of having a truly intimate connection to the life I lead.

My years of work to recover a life, once broken by madness, have led me to great heights.  I’m thankful that my hard labor yielded tremendous fruit.  But life holds something deeper for me than to just be a leader—or advocate.  Today, I’m realizing that the life I am leading has rewards far greater than grandiosity.  And it is within the simplicity of the person that I am that my connection to my heart, and soul, and to my own innate goodness may find root and abundance.

Let the Criminals Fight

Let’s outlaw guns.  Let’s outlaw guns, not because we are against violence, but because gun toting fascists are the greatest barrier to liberation which the United States faces.

Imagine if you will, the eventual revolution becomes a reality, and it is waged in the form of violent upheaval.  If such a scenario were to ever occur, our entire red neck, white bread, patriotic, fire arms rights activists would step up, and—at least—attempt to stamp out our hard earned chance at liberation.  Therefore, I say, make guns illegal on the grounds that it is the most effective means to give the liberation minded, gun toting, drug dealing, criminals, a chance at overhauling governmental authority.

Yes.  I think—very rationally—that guns are better in the hands of criminals than in the hands of most law abiding citizens.  The fear I have of having anyone use a gun to rape me or steal from me is much diminished from the fear I have for my future generations living under right wing oppression.  But I’m just a bumpkin living up in Vermont, anyhow.

The argument I make is simple; criminals are smart; we are not protected from criminals by having our law abiding civilians carrying guns.  That is unless we are ourselves the law abiding citizens with guns.  And I guess it is here where our nation’s argument rests; every citizen should be given the right to own means of protection.

What I believe is that we are faced here with a double edged reality.  Having rights, to carry and own protection, from criminals, seems logical.  And I’m not anti-violence.  However, if we are to endure the maelstrom of fascist leadership tactics, which are employed to dismantle civil unrest, we must oppose—not only fascist leadership tactics—but those who buy into the principles of resultant right wing political propaganda.  And there, buying into fascist politics, we have our men and women who stand for the right to bear arms.

“If guns are outlawed only criminals will carry guns.”  That’s the pitch of right wing gun rights activists; my retort is simply, yes !!!, a day when only criminals may carry guns is one in which I am really hopeful that liberation is not far behind.

Nature of Friendship

The joy of friendship lasts beyond just time spent with someone you love.  Intimate union of souls is an expression of love; between friends, this intimacy lies in a form of companionship; this union yields for those who truly reflect their friends love—spiritual abundance.

At times in my life, I had no friends, I was held within a desolate existence which drove my heart through the floor boards of my home, deep into the earth.  There, all love I had for myself, disintegrated into muck.  Love has no bounds, but I found a path in this world which allowed me to hide myself from all loving energy which I could possibly contain or share with others.  This dark place did bring me to higher understanding of myself as well as the purposes of union.  Without darkness there can be no light.  Solitude is a means to deep reflection of the soul.  And deep within the soul there lies an understanding of how we are to be cultivated in the pursuit to share ourselves with others.

Union, as I believe it to be, is the heart’s expression of gratitude for living in this world.  Our hearts seek out strange paths so we can come to appreciate our relationships with others; and to appreciate our relationship to ourselves—both past and present.  Lovingness is an expression of union which allows us to cohabitate with the world.  Without love, life would be devoid of anything that gives us courage or wisdom.  As we grow into ourselves, and obtain wisdom and courage, we learn to express greater gratitude for the loving energy the heart cultivates in our souls.

Being human is the knowledge that although, at times, we do not know the love in our hearts, our time of spiritual isolation shall pass. 

Union, in the form of friendship, allows us to navigate times of difficulty and of solace.  It gives us space to share our triumphs.  It allows us to be fully human in the face of an, often times, mechanistic existence.  Love is the centerpiece to intimate friendship; it is through love that people grow together, and become stronger.  Friendships inspire us to learn and reach a more bountiful existence.  Intimacy, in friendship, is the union of hearts which have love for one another.  And to those who fully appreciate their friends comes the blessing of seeing themselves as beautiful manifestations of the love they have received—and the love they have to give.

If we are to come through times where being human is confining we must learn to love the people we surround ourselves with. Our friends must be the highest of ideals we know in this world or we will hide from any love we have for ourselves.  And in turn, if we come to know that there is no greater expression of the richness of our character than the expression of our love, we will know we do not need to hide.  We will have the knowledge that we are beautiful people with abundant souls.

Nothing can shatter a person like not receiving love from the universe.  Shattered, however, we can grow in myriad directions towards the boundaries of what keeps us contained.  In our growth, we can go beyond our pain to find love, friendship, and intimacy.  All the healing in the world gets done when a person comes to sharing love with friends whom they admire as their own greatest example of goodness.