yo, man, yo, humyn.

it’s strange…
i’ve been so busy that i have been able to spare little time or even naturally turning attention to thoughts of spiritual things.

usually it is the one thing which possesses me; obsesses me.

i’ve written a hundred thousand words about christianity, religion, Hell, damnation and salvation, spirituality. but this week, (or has it been two?), i have been totally immersed in a new project.
de-occupy honolulu, a streetside houseless/protest camp and staging ground/community forum area needed more people to be there to ‘man’ it, to people it, to keep it going. it is the longest running occupy camp in the world. 670+ days. we are embroiled in at least two lawsuits, (a tactic which i find personally abominable): lawsuits to repeal and kill bills that have been voted into being criminalizing houselessness on oahu, in honolulu, and giving the pigs new and sickly prophetic abilities to supersede previously written laws which gave more of a pretense to security from police theft among other matters.

i am an introvert. for weeks now i have been in interactive company for 22 hours a day. i recharge in solitude. for weeks i have had* to be in public and on the street and with my comrades and with both the houseless and poorer as well as with ‘regular’ citizens who come by camp or walk by, half of which are our class-enemies and some of which are knowingly so and vocalize their disgust and animosity to us throughout the day and night.

my main thoughts of the past week have been political – or in the least…ethical.

i have been thinking about fire. who, this moment, is being burned alive? who is exploding in a bomb blast this instant? how many thousands of witches were burned at the stakes and in great fires? i’ve been thinking of feminism. four nights ago a close comrade of mine, a womyn, beat me bare backed with staves after casting a circle in the middle of the night while we watched camp. i listened to this song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yQJ2PCu6b08 (lyrics on you-tube page)

while my mask covered my face and the night sky rained down on us in the park and square, she beat me and i tried not to scream or ask it to end, – thinking of the lyrics to the song sung the world over for and by womyns to avenge 10,000 years of patriarchy.

the full moon again approaches. my comrade will give on me more. penance for my patriarchial ways. i thought of all the blows landing unasked for and searing upon female gendered persyns all about our world. landing, too, on so many others, whoever they may be…

there is a leaning toward, a penchance toward, unity in that is there not?

…

so i have had little time to think of the BEING who is God for the past couple weeks. it has, in the (my) head been mostly thoughts about sentient beings on Earth that we know* of. all species of animals, humyns included.

my life of leisure for the many years since i was houseless and traveling and hitchhiking and living in teepees and tents in the forest mountains here in Hawai’i and on turtle island gave me more than enough cloistered time in apartments to Think, to Mourn, to Ponder and Wonder and Believe. to fret about what it means to live in a reality wherein the most pointed and significant things about that World and reality are the most absent: the Outside, Heaven, Hell, God, void, and mystery and wonder – the fact of the unretractable unexplainedness of this that we are going through.

for years Life has been defined by the sole factor of it being crashingly overwhelmingly powerfully present that Life has no foundational ground. – What is this? Why is it that when we live we rarely (some of us) recognize the first and most blatant truth: that the existence of nothing is justified and made sensible by its own very existence. the metaphysics can been summed up in the simple understanding that nothing is explained, nothing makes sense, nothing has any sense of really being anything at all – since mystery is the first and all flooding imbued reality.
but now my ‘activity’ (all projectual living and planned actions a push toward anarchism and revolution, the former personal and experiential perhaps, the latter communal by way of the means of propaganda, mostly in texts disseminated for free all about the city and through the mail…) has ceased to be mainly writing, thinking, fucking, and propaganda dissemination; my activity Now IS the collectivity. it is Living WITH my comrades. our living itself has become something done together. and whereas before i communicated my hopes and suggestions to many others through the intermediary communication form of texts and paper and words i now commune with few and interact with many constantly.
there has not been time for god.

no god will appear and manifest to stand between us and the pigs when they raid us. no god will stop the shit in syria. no god is going to be responsible for what happens in turkey and greece and brazil, whether the lower classes push things continually farther or they are dwindled in numbers or activity because of reaction.

yesterday i slept for six, eight hours; exhaustion. i dreamt. in my dream i was in the darkest jail cell, in a dungeon of a jail, bars of iron, blackened stone walls and the air a palpable sense of the inescapabilty of the loss of life and light and hope and good. only a nightmare. a merciful hell – void of fire, but without exit. a place to wait and of all things the one they all ARE. i woke rested. i know that place is real and really being lived, even at this very moment that is their lives, in the thousands, throughout ‘his’tory and now.

all this does Not in any way sweep me, (as yet), toward some certain atheism, nor for that matter any pessimism. certainly not. at least no more than the neutral pessimistic/optimistic/hedonistic/anarchist-committed revolutionary awareness i have carried and kindled for years…*

but if i’m on the ground now and in contestation with bodies directly, (in a ‘civil’ way), the abstractions of god and Hell seem less pungent and swamping. i find it hard to even remember what it is to grasp the world in the tongues of my sight and know it to be anything present in all encompassing holiness. i have forgotten, from being so busy, why it is obvious and probable past whims that for a dimension to BE means for a dimension to be HOLY.

why is engaging in a struggle and the constant reply of mind to circumstance enough to push most abstractions from the thoughts? we fight for anarchy as an idea, (a hundred years ago Anarchism was called ‘The Idea’); we seek it in living it as our praxis and do only what we ourselves want; we seek it in community by respect, levying our words and actions against privilege, class privilege, race privilege, gender privilege, and the rest; we seek anarchy in our projects and our projectual living – leafleting, discussion groups, mailing of literature and solidaritous gifts, handing out of money to those who need it, sharing goods, reminding each other why we fight and that we are ardent for the bodies and souls and fighting power of each other and the comrades we share romance or affinity with, we inundate portion after portion of the city with propaganda, leave anarchist texts where ever we go, practice security culture and remember that we are behind enemy lines – over and over again direct the head and thought to an awareness that in this time the world and all of us are present in The Global Civil War.

all this we had been doing already…for years. and add to it the visions and the dreams of apocalypse and shared sentience and humynity – the poison and intoxicant, or deprivation fueled times of meditation/medication and paralyzing ‘sight’.

but i had been working on all that Alone. (‘by my self’*)

de-occupy, as a locatable and contested place, (Thomas Square park, in Makiki, in Honolulu, in the occupied kingdom of Hawai’i), needed to be persyned to continue to exist.

and this is the first break i have gotten from the constant work of all that long list that has embroiled me alone for half of a decade, and plus now the additional presence of collectivity lived and Unabandoned.

none of this is complaint. it is simply the placid description of a new and changed circumstance. and with this change i have, not stopped caring whether there is a god or spiritualism holds accurate observations… but rather the awareness of domination, exploitation, violence, and the good fight waging seemingly itself all over the world has become the living breathing backdrop of each face that i listen to and intently gaze upon throughout the days and nights. The War has simply become Reality.

there is a thickening and mad proximity of this reality of war to the certainty that i as a nihilist and thinking being have decried for all of my adult life. (most of it anyhow…) certainty… and the stakes: being high, humyn, sentient, Real. to plug back in to blindness would be to stop an ever forward running procession of illusion giving-way to a dimension still Unexplained and maddening, truly sadly horrific and wonderful and awe inspiringly lovely in its multiplicity of beings both human and non, physical and ethereal, …beyond hugely imaginable…, but regardless – a dimension, a place, and a meeting of trillions of universes LOCKED in unfixable struggle and eternal war.

i have always as an anarchist known that freedom is nothing if it is not at the same time, at least, danger. being the effect of a place – and that relationship being unescapable (most likely…) just one of the dangers, though the greatest.

i still worship Hecate. I still worship the Goddess and All That Is; just soooo less often. the slightly more banal matters have flexed upon me matters unendingly in need of attention to earthly things… earthly…as if a globe spinning in the black could ever cease to be spiritual by way of its miracle…

…

so today i’m getting high.
i’m reading, being ALONE, catching up on the now collective space and info shop that is this apartment. i’m smoking some ganja and doing computer work and reading from the books of my favorite author R. Scott Bakker. I wrote a fucking Horrible poem the other day on the heaven is for heretics blog, – The New Volume: VII, a well intentioned love note to my best friend and battle brother … or whatever, but it was shit as a piece because i had been out of my element and in public in a new way for so long that i could not go back to touch upon who i was to myself when i still knew (or presumed or thought i knew) where i myself was coming from. … i’m hoping, when it comes to the writing and the poetry, that the stuff in the future two weeks time will be slightly more polished…

and all this amidst freedom, plenty, security, health, peace. Hawai’i: the stolen and colonized playground of the heart of empire.

for this life of luxury that i lead and live on my terms alone – certainly when faced with the truth and the reality of existence in the Outside after death i will burn and burn and burn…

remembering, for a moment, those few moments alone, suddenly this afternoon in the sunlight, that i am damned made me laugh out loud in joy and uproar and gratitude.

more and more i want to live. knowing what awaits. because of what awaits. in joy because of what awaits and its unchangable solidity. ‘Though you lose your soul you shall gain the world.’ — R. Scott Bakker.