What Do U Meme, I Follow the Heard? - Introduction

Image from SportsRip: Group taking a selfie in front of a disastrous fire.

Today, I am introducing a new series that has essentially been composing itself in my little head since the early days of the last presidential campaign (ca. 2015). It will be centered around a number of intertwining subjects having to do with what I perceive as the continuous, cultural dumbing down of America. I say, "America," because I am not qualified to comment on any other country. My instincts tell me that intentionally profound unawareness is replacing what was once called, "truth seeking" in this country, and is presently running the risk of bleeding out into the rest of the world. Yet, I just don't know how impactful it really is at the planetary scale. People are using what they've heard instead of what they take the time to research in order to inform themselves. This is very very disturbing to me.

American culture has had a way of being adopted as the most progressive set of trends for other peoples, in other lands, at least in the past. However, what might be described as the current "too-cool-for-school" attitude is now passing beyond the lighthearted and humorous picket lines of mild scholarly concern, and into the empty factories of willful ignorance. That is a metaphor, by the way. I feel I need to point that out, since much of the population might be prompted to Google, "stupidity factory strike," and then call my writing "fake news" when no further links can be located. Of course I jest. But the trend away from the instructive power of abstract concepts, in favor of shallow outward observation, is worrisome to people schooled in deeper discourse, high quality literature, or true artistic effort (for example).

My objective is to bring back the requirement for objectivity, before subjectivity can change the subject. As irritating as it may be for those who desire the ease of operating simple minds (but are still interested in expanding those minds), I will also seek to use some - I think - unique literary methods of challenging readers to more carefully think for themselves. In this way, I hope to both illuminate what I see as key stumbling blocks to critical thinking--before it's too late, while also employing practical tools for strengthening the once-natural inclination to stop and think, by not being formulaic in any classical way. 

This may come in the form of the aforementioned-use of metaphor, but also word play, and poetic devices. But there will be primarily be a gentle prodding for the reader to find the meanings between the lines. I want you to improve these ideas and make them your own. 

I'm not trying to be clever or coy with this approach. Even folks who get a headache figuring out whether the glass is half empty or half full should be able to glean a thing or too, while still getting a chuckle every now and then. I fully admit that my efforts are likely to fall flat, because I myself may not be up self-assigned task, nor even understanding what I am writing. I've never written something so specifically designed to cause the questioning of one's own thinking habits, while also serving as an unconscious mechanism for improving the very act of thinking itself. Nevertheless, I feel like the time is right for attempting such frank efforts, mostly because I don't know how much time any of us really have left...

I will be using this series as the scaffolding for a book. In writing it as a public draft, there will be a necessity to go back and tighten things up occasionally. This will require revising former essays and fixing the confusing conceptual knots I will inevitably be tying myself up with. If people are unable to understand what I am talking about without a small amount of effort in restating any particular concept, I must take full responsibility for my failure. And I will, by eliminating the offending section.

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Thank you ahead of time for your energy and interest! My readership on recent posts has dropped to about a tenth of what it was during the heady days of my Journeying. It isn't difficult to understand why. My sea changes need to be more formally expressed. Those who like the survivalist aspects of my primitive homesteading will still be happy to find regular posts under the Life at SoftAcres series. Some poverty rants will still appear under the Life in the Second Class series.

Life at SoftAcres 12/08/18 - Who Sleeps in the Cold?

A Month's Worth of Heat

In my strange personal belief system, we humans are born as imperfect material beings so that we might accrue experience. If we are open minded about where we find true satisfaction within this world, we will discover that experience adds up and is never lost. It is the only permanent possession any of us will carry, forever...should we choose to go onto the next world. There is only one time frame and place to have human experience. The time is now, in the flesh, and the place (in our cases) is upon a small sin-smeared, evolutionary world. While the Gods, if there are any, are existentially perfect, we are to be experientially perfected. 

Those of us who are handed everything we need in the material world, if we are not challenged with diverse and strong experiences--both good and bad, and have never felt the crushing weight of failure in order to appreciate the stratospheric heights of success, are probably too spiritually immature to gain much from the only time we will be human. Being pampered is a form of coddling spiritual retardation.

It is not necessary to actually suffer in order to achieve a unique experience worthy of eternal value. But, because of the period our generations have been born into along the planetary timeline, suffering is more the rule than the exception. Nevertheless, my individual take on all this is that if we can even partially understand "why bad things happen," and are also able to realize (hopefully by about the age of 40) that the human-made world is a piss poor excuse for a stage upon which to start one's eternal program of perfecting, much can still be achieved toward this end even in later life.

So many times when I first started the long distance wallking, I was called "crazy." That doesn't happen as much anymore. People still think I'm crazy of course, but few people are secure enough in their own supposedly well thought out lifestyle choices to put that label on me anymore--at least to my face.

All the while, I know with absolute certainty just how fickle, shallow, and primitive American conventionalism is. Large houses, gas guzzling SUV's, mass electric power, water, and sewage grids... Hate to tell those who value these THINGS, but the future is not going to be filled with three car garages, endless fossil fuel reserves to exploit, 300 horsepower engines, rusty transmission power poles, fluoride infused water reservoirs, and waste treatment plants. There are not enough natural resources left in the ground to provide these things to every individual. I'm not trying to get all NPRish. My point is simply this... All that we consider to be our innovative, "convenience" based mechanisms are already ancient missteps now that our culture is capable of moving beyond them, while having no will to do so. When viewed from the perspective of our great grandchildren, looking back from the year 2100, we should be blushingly embarrassed.

Now, for God sake, what does any of this have to do with sleeping in the extreme cold? Well, really only one thing. It is a challenge. It is uncomfortable. It is potentially dangerous. Is this what we have evolved to do? Humans invent a thousand ways to stay warm, just to end up in the woods, sleeping in the cold? YES! But why?

The longer I live outside the norms, the wider my perceptions of human civilization stretch. I observe most of society as would a biologist studying the behavior of some kind of wild animal in its own habitat. Not the best analogy, since for the most part, no animal cruelly hurts members of its own species just for the fun of it. No animal makes a common habit out off fouling its own nest so fully that it must then move on to fouling the nests of others. No other animal has the means to completely examine and carefully scrutinize both its environment and its own motives, onky to ignore its own facts findings, in order to preserve the false security of wishful thinking. Only choosing to push one's  way out of the willfully constructed stupidity bubble and then seeing one's own behavior and ignorance for what it is, affords the opportunity for gaining real wisdom. In general, although people seem to care, in a lazy, superstitious, anti-intellectual way, no one cares enough to even have a glimpse for themself, of themself, from the other side of the veil. But that's where I live now.

For example: To walk where I need to go, eliminates the limitations of owning a vehicle. What do I mean? whenever I have the ability to use a car, I cannot stop myself from doing so. It's a viral infection. The "convenience" of such a means of transit makes the option of walking laughable, by comparison--"crazy." But the joke is on all of us. We have jobs 50 miles away from our homes, because we have cars to get us there by 9:00 am. We don't grow gardens, because we have cars to bring us to the store. Our complacency in the face of information telling us that we need to change NOW, makes society look to me like a bunch of mentally disabled people stopping to look for shiny things as the madhouse burns down around them. Meanwhile, this convenience is changing the environment in ways our wishful thinking blinders keep us from even processing.

Our addiction to stuff is just another strain of this virus. If you live in a house so large that there are rooms you don't use, or have so much stuff that you need to pay the equivalent of extra apartment rent to provide a space for it (maybe also 50 miles away?), AND YOU KNOW IT, then I'm sorry my friend, but you are a big-assed part of the problem.

Would one of you walk in to town one day a week instead of driving? Would one of you downsize to a place where every room is useful? Would one of you who complain about paying taxes eliminate the money-sucking storage space filled with all the shit you never use and have even forgotten you own? Would you do these things just because a "crazy" fool on the hill told you there is peace of mind in such simplification? Not a fucking chance. I know, because I would not have changed unless I was forced to, because the hypocrisy of knowing I was terminally buying into the cult of Wasteful First Worldism, and my heart was literally unable to handle the contradictions between knowing what was True, versus following the herd's wishful thinking denials of that Truth.

Isn't sleeping in the extreme cold, in order to use only what I need, a great metaphor for being what one does when one can't stand the fake, ideologically driven, mindless conformity? Okay, you can't see it... I guarantee that if you see yourself in my admonitions, you have probably been trying to think of arguments against what I have been saying. It makes you feel better. I get it. And doubtless, it is probable that the person next to you would also defend your doing things that are fuzzy and not rational, against my sharp paring blades of need over want (aka wishful thinking). "But I might need it someday!" Take it from the son of the worst hoarder on the planet... "Someday" isn't ever going to come. Sometimes just hearing the details of the metaphor is much more useful...

I knew the temps at night would be brutal when I got back to the shelter two nights ago, the temperature was dropping from about 20 F, and would settle in at about 5 F. I clicked on the little propane heater, and through a routine of then switching it on off at 65 F at on again at 40 F, I cooked my meal, worked on some technical design innovations I'd been thinking about...

Working out plans for a modular alternative electrical system, based around the old concept of using

interchangeable stereo audio components. Possible commercial appeal?

...and watched a Youtube video. Around 9:00 pm I took off my pants and put on my pajama pants. I left my t-shirt and sweater on and crawled into bed. Bed consists of a cot, with a military sleeping bag on it, covered by a large queen-sized comforter, folded up, covered by a fitted sheet, covered by a 40 F minimum sleeping bag, into which I have stuffed my old IWALLK sleeping bag (with the failed zipper cut off). This is plenty of layering for temperature preservation.

The issue then is exposed skin. I hate to breath in warm air from within the sleeping bag. So, that means sticking my dumbassed face out into the cold. People don't realize that if the head is exposed, the rest of the body will heat up to make up for the difference. This makes you sweat. and, there is nothing more dangerous that being wet AND cold. This combined with the fact that your breath accumulates as moisture on the inside of the room. This will eventually cover the entire inner surface of a small shelter with frost. In my case, much of the moisture is exuded out into the surrounding outer shelter. That's a good thing, eliminating moisture in the living space. It is truly odd to turn on the heat in the morning and hearing the melted frost drip like rain upon the outside of my tent. Wearing a hat - as long as it stays on my head - stops the night sweats (although angina can extend them sometimes).

There really is no big difference between sleeping in my shelter and sleeping in your cozy heated bedroom, while in bed. The nice thing is that I don't waste heat when I don't need it. Others can afford to apparently. I also have no pipes that will freeze. Food and drink in the tent never needs a refrigerator, and usually does not freeze, because just not enough time goes by in between my heating (even if I'm gone all day). Given a second chance, I would have rigged up a small room for the water barrel (connected to the air on the inside of the inner tent). Because water freezes from the top down, the environment around the barrel can be so manipulated as to prevent a solid freeze.

Another thing that makes some aspects of living in the winter a bit easier than living in the summer, is that there is no need to harvest rainwater. The water (in the form of snow) basically harvests itself by sitting on top of the ground instead of sinking into it. There is always water available as long as there is heat available to melt snow. And, I will say that it is the freshest, cleanest, most refreshing water possible.

Just as with any circumstance where extreme environmental conditions are to be taken into account, much of the processes of survival are still available. They just need tweaking.

Here are some extra pictures from the last couple weeks...

Eighth snow storm, a month before the start of winter.

The quarter mile path I shovel.

A strange day right before this latest cold streak, I never see fog in this town.

One of the largest coyote prints I've seen.

Life at SoftAcres 12/04/18 - The Angina Monologues

Google Images

As most people who have wallked along with me over the years know, I have had heart issues. In the last two months I seem to have moved onto another stage. Up until recently, I had really only felt angina (heart pain due to constriction of the vessels - or spasms/cramps - supplying oxygenated blood to the heart muscle) right before my two last heart attacks. Yes, occasionally it would hit when I was under anxiety of one form or another. But my “normal” state was a mostly painless existence. Apparently, that has changed.

I kind of freaked out one of the first recent nights when the pain hit hard. I really thought it was going to be strike three. But with deep breaths and relaxation techniques I was able to chase it away. Subsequently, it has happened about twice per day for the last few weeks. I knew that it was common for advanced heart disease patients to have regular pain when doing certain things. My new pain matched all these criteria. It has now gotten to the point where I do still get concerned when the signs begin, but I am no longer afraid of having to check myself into the medical system immediately. After learning that it can be chased away, I don't panic anymore.  It is the new normal.

I have found other ways to manage the pain to some extent. Nitroglycerin tablets are incredibly helpful when I can't relax my way out of the growing ache. Another simple solution is to just slow down. When walking up my huge hill each day, I simply go at about half speed. I know I look weird and I feel awkward, but it keeps the pain at bay. When I am in between houses and no one can see me, I will often just stand for a minute and breathe deeply. This helps a lot. Carrying heavy loads, or chopping wood seems to trigger the pain. Anything that puts my upper torso under stress can result in discomfort. All the while, my biggest issue as always has to do with anxiety. So, much of this is psychosomatic (as was the reason for the heart issues in first place).

I will say something I'd never known until now - and I am aware of how bizarre this sounds - when the pain subsides, it is like getting a narcotic buzz. I'm supposing that endorphins are released in great amounts, so that when the pain is gone I actually get a buzz! (Rarely discussed aspects, ha!)

I never feel secure with my finances. I need so little, but I ride the razor's edge in order to maintain a simple life. If I didn't get jabbed by my heart, life would be pretty damn easy to maintain. However, this kind of existence (one that requires daily physical work) is something I've waited my whole life for. That this life would have to end with me rotting in a hospital, unable to be outdoors, is simply...not gonna happen.

I need to find a way to still live on my land, right up to the moment. And if that means never seeking any medical help, or seeking limited help, or whatever, I will not give up the quality of life for quantity. I simply don't care about stretching my life out, with the tubes and machines I'd be hitched up to. I do not trust the medical system to do what is best for me. It takes care of itself first. Although I am willing to USE it for what I know is best for me, I must be vigilant not to be sucked in by it.

As I have chosen the unconventional life, so shall I choose the unconventional death. If things come down for me. I plan to use my decline and death to highlight a point--to leave a powerful message. I will “not go quiet into that good night.”

There is reason to be hopeful that in Maine, as a well-off state in the wealthiest nation that has ever graced the face of the planet, some modest health care compassion might be coming. Gasp! Our governor elect will finally allow Medicaid expansion to occur in this state. So after the first of the year, I may actually be able to afford some basic health care. Being saddled with unpayable debt is worse to me than dying, because I already walk the financial tightrope and cannot handle even one more expense. Having debt on my shoulders to treat something that isn't my fault, is sure to make my physical situation as stressful and deadly as it possibly could be anyway. I would be beholden to someone else for the rest of my life. That is absolutely unacceptable.

So, the plan is to hold out and manage the pain until I can afford the financial help I need to treat myself. I fully know how most people handle these kinds of health issues. The habit is to simply go to the doctor and do everything that he/she tells you without question; get tangled up in appointments and their drug experiments. And every bit of it costs more and more money as the trap tightens. No more for me. The two stents in my heart were each medical mistakes. They were unnecessary and have likely shortened my life by thirty years. There is no legal recourse. There is no going back. The medical system GAVE me heart disease. Now I am an experiment for their databases. "Does he live? Does he die?" Either way it's good for them, because they can gather data about how their error affected just another civilian lab rat. I won't put myself on their butcher block again...

As for the concerned people who can't help assuming they know what is better for me than my own plan? I need them to NOT do that. I am not a problem to be solved. Instead, I am an event to be observed and reported upon. I am not just a living magazine. I am a life story. And, this story will eventually be seen as such. I have no desire that it be instructional. I'd rather just have it be entertaining, and possibly inspiring. There are tragedies in the real world, just like in the literary world. There are triumphs too. I love a happy ending. But honestly, I never forget a sad one. I don't want to be forgotten. The king I was named after believed way back in the Fourth Century BC, that eternal life had nothing to do with survival after death. He was motivated by fame in the material world. Now his name will live on throughout the remote ages of the future here on earth. Just being remembered for a few years after I'm gone - with an undeniable lesson attached for the greedy, selfish, ignorant, ideologically poisoned society that killed me about WHY I couldn't live to be old enough to even receive Social Security - would be good enough for me.

Other Sources About My Heart History

Blog accounts account of the premature end to my Journeys, because of the second heart attacks...

Part I - http://iwallk.blogspot.com/2016/09/a-living-magazine-grounded-in-maine-day_9.html

Narrated video - http://ubron.org/groupdocs/Day%2039%20Audio.mp3

Part II - http://iwallk.blogspot.com/2016/10/a-living-magazine-grounded-in-maine-day.html

Interview with me about having medical issues without insurance...

Part I - https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/iwallk/episodes/2017-02-26T14_44_51-08_00

Part II - https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/iwallk/episodes/2017-03-02T19_46_51-08_00

Part III - https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/iwallk/episodes/2017-03-12T14_00_46-07_00

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This post was added to the blog as a supplemental essay. It will serve as a place to cite whenever this issue sticks its ugly face into my project. Should be back to the normal struggle of simply trying to survive out in the Maine woods on donations alone.