Apart from building my own personal worldview in full view of the public, my life's been really boring recently. I'm not complaining about that, I think we can all agree that in this day and age boring is an absolute blessing, but it makes it hard to find things to write about. 

    I'm writing this post on Friday, on what's a truly gorgeous day for western Washington. I'm planning on going out and celebrating it, as well as what's supposed to be another gorgeous day, that being when this post goes up. 

New World

 Not much has changed.
The roads are still here,
The stores are still open,
So why does nothing seem to be the same? 

Something's Wrong

    I knew we needed something to believe in, but I didn't think we needed it this badly.

    I should state right now that I don't believe in psychic powers or auras or whatever the magic believers believe in. Not just because it can't be proven, but because I don't think there's any justification for people who don't really want magic powers to believe in them. I say this because, as an Infinitelist, I think that unless a lot of people believe in something, then it can't be real. But last night, something strange happened. It could have been sleep paralysis, but I swear to god it felt like one of those visions the psychics always talk about. I don't even really remember it, all I know is that it felt like I was in somebody else's mind, and that someone else felt really angry. Then when I woke up, I noticed that my blog had views. 

    For the record, this doesn't normally happen. I'm fully willing to admit that it was probably just a coincidence, but since this is the Infinite we're talking about, I'm not willing to take chances. I'm also dead certain that I shouldn't have felt anything at all. Most of the reason I think the Infinite exists have nothing to do with magic or auras, in fact they have a lot more to do with the fact that nobody likes talking about them. I'm convinced that if things were alright, I wouldn't have felt anything at all. That I did leads me to think that reality isn't in very good shape, and that things might be even worse than I thought they were. 

    All I can say is that to whoever saw my post from Monday, I implore you to find something that you can believe in, something that you know is real. Even if it's just the laws of physics, find it. And if you're as worried about your world falling apart as I am, then try and remember this poem of mine. I wrote it specifically for moments like this. 

     I want to write more about what I believe, but I don't think it needs to be an everyday thing. Not yet at least. For now, I'm happy knowing that if the world ends, and we fall with it, I'll have done what I can. 

The Internet

 I don't know if it's just me,
But when I look online I see a lot of the past
And not much of a future. 

    It feels weird writing about Infinitelism. That's what I call my life philosophy/personal religion. Its so important to me, but I never talk about it, because talking about it would mean talking about the Infinite, and like everyone else, I'm scared that if I talk about the Infinite, our world won't be real anymore. In light of recent events, I feel like I have to talk about it. If only to talk about the Dreamworld, a topic that I increasingly feel to be of the utmost importance, but it's one that no one wants to mention. The whole reason I wrote a long post about Infinitelism is that I kept being struck by how often I saw people insisting we fight for our politics, but never bringing up what we should do about religion, even though I think people care equally deeply about both. Not only that, but I feel that the systems that govern us and the gods we worship are entwined even if we act as though we've separated church and state. I think that we need to discuss what religion is going to look like in an uncertain future, and if we want to have an honest and nuanced discussion about this, I think we need to look for where reality stops being real. To do that, we need to acknowledge the Infinite, or at least the fact that even if objective, external reality exists, we'll never be able to see it the way that we want to. 

Introduction to the Infinite

      I don’t know how to begin talking about this. It feels almost suicidal to even mention that I don’t believe in reality. Well, it’d be more accurate to say that I don’t believe in a reality that’s objective, external, and independent of our beliefs about reality and ourselves. I believe in a world that’s shaping us and being shaped by us, constantly, one that we aren’t independent from and that will never be able to exist independently of us. What I don’t believe in is what I call the Infinite. To me, the Infinite is always there, a thing that all of us know about, but that we do our best to ignore. It is meaningless, shapeless, has no beginning or end, is where our Universe and everything in it came from, and where, ultimately, it will return to. There is nothing more frightening, or overwhelming, than the Infinite, but to understand humanity, and the world that made us, you have to understand it. So I’m going to try and explain what I think I’ve figured out, but bear in mind that I know nothing about the Infinite. No one does. All I can really do is tell you what I imagine when I picture it. 

The Infinite:

    The Infinite is to our Universe what our Universe is to us, incomprehensible, enormous, too much to make sense of. The Infinite is all that is, was, and will be, happening continuously, and happening simultaneously. If you, or I, were to see the Infinite, we would see a place that constantly changes, building and discarding ideas in what seems to be the blink of an eye. But if we could zoom out, see the Infinite in its totality, somehow, we’d see that it doesn’t change at all, for there’s nothing that really could change. Everything that dies is reborn somewhere else instantly, potentially in an infinite number of places, and it’s impossible to quantify what’s within the Infinite, a place where limits don’t exist. There’s no physics, so time doesn’t matter, and disorder and chaos are the norm. There’s no one to please, nothing to hold you back, nothing to say that you’re important or interesting. There’s just something we might describe as now, except now stretches forever, and there’s no way of knowing if you’re experiencing anything at all. So to give meaning, purpose, and truth to themselves, souls create worlds of all shapes and sizes, worlds in which things move, change, and have meaning. 

   Souls are the only things that live in the Infinite. Don’t be fooled into thinking that they’re like the souls that the wise ones once said we carry in our bodies. These souls are born from the Infinite, and in a world without limits, it’s impossible to tell where one soul ends and another begins. The soul that created and governs our Universe lives over and through us, watching us without really seeing or taking note of us. As it’s not bound by limitations, it has no concept of fear, and can’t understand why things like death would be unpleasant, for souls can’t really die. But the soul that created us can’t understand us, it does care about us, in a strange and distant way. It cares, or else it wouldn’t have given us a barrier between us and the Infinite; The Dreamworld. 

The Dreamworld:

    The Dreamworld, like the soul that made it, isn’t bound by limitations. But since it’s created by humans, its limitations come from what we’re capable of imagining, thinking about, and asking for. Within these limitations, it’s still far more versatile than reality, because reality isn’t solely bound by the limitations of a single species confined to one planet, but by the limitations of everything within the Universe that created it. 

     The key thing about the Dreamworld is that it’s not really a single, continuous thing, like our Universe is. It’s a lot of small, disparate worlds that overlap and mingle with one another and, over time, become a unified whole. Whether you imagine it to exist somewhere else, or only in the minds of people, you can’t deny its existence, or the fact that it impacts us far more directly than reality does.  

    Another thing to keep in mind is that the Dreamworld doesn’t just belong to humanity. Everything in our Universe uses it to express their will to the world, and allow it to be shaped into a form they believe in and feel safe living in. That’s important, because any world, even one as massive as the Universe, can only exist if enough people believe in it. If they don’t believe in it, there’s nothing separating us from the Infinite. 

The Other Side of the Fence

 I didn't know what I wanted.
I didn't know what I needed.
Then I saw it,
The other side of 
The giant wall,
Separating me from the world. 

The people were happy, 
Bonding over their love of life
And each other.
There was sadness, yes,
But nothing like what we have here.

I want to scream,
Why won't they help us.
Why won't they give us
What they have too much of?
I thought they couldn't hear us,
But they complain about
Us banging on their wall.

Won't those worthless rabble stop damaging our property?

There's a star being born
In my heart,
Born from the rage that's consuming me.
It illuminates the path forward,
But is burning everything around it.
All I feel is a desire for justice and 
Revenge.

Whoever,
Or whatever,
Is up where the stars shine bright.
Hear me,
Hear us,
Hear those who will not be heard by man.
Guide us to the place
On the other side of the fence
They built to contain us.

All we want is to have family
And friends once more.
All we want is to feel what we haven't felt in so long,
Most of us don't even know what it is we're missing.
Help us.
Help us to destroy those
Who only want to see us suffer
And die. 

     I always took the internet for granted. I thought that, for as long as there was a computer that could run it, there would be something fun to do, or new things to learn. I never dreamed of a world where the free games were gone, everything was behind a paywall, and social media was rapidly declining. I keep trying to imagine what a newer, better internet will look like, but all I can manage is longing thoughts of the internet we left behind when we "grew up". 

     I look forward to Friday, but not for the reason that most people do. It's the day I decide which poem gets posted on Monday. I worry that I'll run out of material, but that hasn't happened yet. Though I don't think that anyone will argue that I only post winners. The reason I love this blog, and would never take it down no matter what, is that I'm so grateful to have a place where I can show off who I am, without judgement. Few artists can post what they like without worrying about people mocking them. 

A Haiku

 A poem of few words
Written for an audience
Of only a few

A Bad Writer

    Being a bad writer means loving your work. Maybe not everything you've ever written, but most of it. More than you probably should. You would be the last to defend your work to the public, but that doesn't mean that you don't care about it. 

    But even at your proudest, there's a voice in the back of your mind that says you're only a bad writer because you don't want to work hard enough to become a good writer. When you dream of writing the novel that will shape the world, or come up with a concept you don't see anyone else talking about, it's exciting but also depressing. You know that you could be so much better, but you're not sure how to get from mere goodness to greatness. 

Darkness

Ours is a world 
Of darkness
And sadness.
A nightmare we will never wake up from.
All of us scream,
But our gods leave us to fend for ourselves. 

    When you write poetry as often as I do, life becomes a series of metaphors and similes. No matter how hard you try and look for new and interesting comparisons, there will always be a moment when someone comes up with a new way of looking at things that make you sit up and go, "Man, I wish that I'd thought of that." 

This Can't Go On

 In my head there's a story
That's not meant to end, 
That's not made to have a point where it stops.
Like the world the ancients made, it goes on forever,
Building and changing with time.

In my head there's a story
I know has to end,
But I can't find a point where it stops.
So it grinds to a halt,
Crashing and burning,
With nothing to remember in its wake.

Is my story a world
That can't go on,
Doomed to be abandoned and forgotten?
Is my story a sign
That our world will soon die,
Without a how, where or why? 

In my head there's a story
That I know will end,
With a conclusion, and morals, and more.
So I write every day,
Till the pain goes away,
Until I know that my work is now done. 

     I wish that people wouldn't discount the value of our internal lives, just because they aren't "real". I feel like that limits our ability to understand ourselves, and it keeps us from acknowledging our limitations. If our internal worlds aren't real, that means that they're infinitely malleable, and if they're infinitely malleable, that means that there's nothing stopping us from being perfect, at least by the standards of the world we live in. But that's not how it works. Our internal lives might not be perfect, but their still held back by the bodies their trapped in, just like our "real" lives are bound by the society we live in and society is bound by the physics of the Universe. We at least acknowledge that we can't be perfect, but too many people say that we need to push to be "better", to fit into the world as a hand would a glove. That works if the world was built for people like you, but surely we've seen plenty of proof that the world can't be built for everyone, and there are those around whom it shouldn't be built at all

     Lately I've been thinking a lot about the Infinite, and how we can work together to build a world that will stay real for generations, rather than last less than a hundred years. I'm running a Blog that goes nowhere now, but my dream is to build a foundation for the future, one that anyone can use to build a world for themselves, their friends, their communities, maybe even the world that they live in. Since I live and operate in solitude, it's mostly built to address the needs of a person who has become disillusioned with their reality, but I'm trying to figure out how one could expand it to a community. It's not easy, and most of what I have is just theory. Maybe someday someone with enough money and power can use my current ideas as a baseline for their community, but for now I'm happy to just build a template for the Dreamworlds of the future. Given the prevalence of both the Internet and AI, I wouldn't be surprised if that became far too necessary shortly.  

The End of the Tunnel

How long will we chase the light
At the end of the tunnel?
Fleeing from darkness,
From a world that's collapsing?
How long will we run,
Until we see that we will never be free? 

A World that Will Last

     It's strange to think that less than a decade ago, social media felt like it was here to stay. I think the concept is here to stay, but I don't think that Twitter is going to be the only social media platform we lose. I was considering moving the blog to another platform, or at least finding somewhere to self promote, and I realized that I couldn't think of anywhere I wanted to move to. There are a million better options than blogger, but the problem is that I'm still not comfortable with the idea that people might read what I write. I realize that's stupid, but I can't help but worry about people not liking my poems and stories, or getting upset at my opinions. 

      I was writing the post for Tuesday, and I found myself reflecting on the huge amount of progress we made in the '00s, bringing about gay marriage, talking about how far we had to go on fighting systemic racism, and different forms of sexuality becoming more noticed. I realized that the reason that all happened wasn't that we were an enlightened species, it was that people felt safe enough to talk about it. I don't mean they felt the world was safe for them, I mean they thought that the world that didn't want them would last long enough, and be malleable enough, to change into a world that did want them. What we're seeing is the world that didn't want minorities collapsing, not because the minorities were vocal, but because of mismanagement and corruption at the top. When the new world is born, the minorities will once again have to go into hiding, once again have to wait until the world that wants them comes along. But it never will. Not because we're cruel, but because we're apathetic. We don't want to do the work it takes to build a world that lasts long enough for those at the fringes to feel that it's safe to try and change it into a world that will accept them. As a result, every time a world starts to feel safe and familiar, it will collapsed, and be replaced by a world that looks almost like the one we lost, but not be quite the same thing. So the people will have to wait to figure it out, and by the time they do it will crumble once more. 

     It took billions of years for the galaxy in a small part of an endless Universe to create us. Why do we keep building worlds that can't even last a century? Is it too much to ask of ourselves that we admit that our world wasn't, isn't, and never will be real? Is it so hard to ask our leaders to let us do the work it would take to make the world real, instead of sabotaging us every step of the way? Is it too much to hope that maybe, soon, things will calm down enough for us to build a world that will last? 

Days of Emptiness

 The days are filled with waiting,
Waiting to be filled with purpose.
Like a jug without any water,
The days are empty.

Big moments happen
Seconds apart,
Then nothing.
Movement stopped,
Then restarted
By the force of history.
In between are the days
Where we wait,
For the moment we will finally declare
"It's over"

American Fascism

     I feel like I should have more to say about the fascist takeover of the United States, but I stopped thinking of it as something that could be stopped a long time ago. It was something to be fought, of course, but it wasn't something that could be stopped. Not without addressing the conditions that brought it forth. I didn't know this for a long time, but I don't think that anyone knows what causes fascism. Like pandemics, it just sort of happens, all we can do is try and contain the damage until we find a vaccine. But there's no mechanism in place to make people immune to fascist thoughts, and I'm not sure how you'd find it in the first place. 

     When I was taking accounting in college, my professor told us that each of us had a price at which we'd be willing to commit fraud, and it was important to figure out what that price is. I think that fascism works the same way, that each of us has a point at which we'll fall to fascism. Maybe we seek out the fascists, maybe they seek us, but all of us have a point at which the real world becomes to much, and we have to fight to regain control as best we can. 

    Also, this isn't the point of view of an expert, but when I look at the United States, I see a world where the collective Dreamworld has crumbled. I'm not the first person to notice this, but a lot of people seem to put the blame on one thing that failed us, be it the state, the internet, or the economy. My personal take is that it doesn't matter which order our systems failed in, it was their combined failure that left people without a world they could trust, and therefore believe in. Without that, they clung to the simplest things they could think of, which led to the worst aspects of America coming to the forefront. I'm not discounting the dangers of systemic issues, but to me what makes fascism awful isn't just that it's a collection of all the things we hate about ourselves, it's that its a reminder that we can never defeat evil. We can defeat evil people, but we can't defeat the world that made them, the world that sees evil as nothing more than a choice without context or consequence. It's a reminder that, no matter how often we beg the Universe for a break, we will never be able to stop building our world. 

The Light of a Soul

 They say that if you are overwhelmed,
If you're trapped in darkness
And there's no hope in sight,
Than you should look upwards,
Look towards the light.

I'm drawn to it
As a moth would be 
To a flame.
This burning 
Deep within me
Won't fade no matter how hard
I try to ignore it.
For while they say that if you enter the light,
You will find true peace and harmony,
What they don't tell you
Is that to enter it,
You must give up all you know about the world.
Truth, knowledge, friendship,
All are meaningless 
When you leave the land of darkness
Behind. 

I feel it coursing through me,
This feeling of anger,
Betrayal,
Resentment.
I look at the world around me and ask
"How can you not see the truth?
Can you not see the sunlight
Directly in front of your eyes?"

I shouldn't blame them,
Few people can see
Beyond the glare,
Beyond the moment they go blind
From the light that's within 
Us all.

Perhaps that's a good thing,
For I've seen this light destroy
Everything it sees.
Darkness,
People,
The souls who couldn’t withstand it.
I move towards it,
Ignoring the warnings to move away.

I don't care how much I give up.
I don't care how much I might lose.
All I know is that I want to see the light within me,
Glowing like a star 
Right before it dies. 

Is it true that the light is a test of worthiness?
Or could it be that the light
Is the thing that will finally doom us all? 

All I know is that while others find safety in darkness,
Claiming the light of a campfire or lamp
Is enough to dull the pain of existence,
All I want is to see the light of the star within me,
And once I do, 
Then I know that I'll find happiness
At last. 

    Lest you think I'm a trustworthy source for anything, know that I'm one of those who believes that reality won't last that much longer, and that humanities fate depends on us finding something to replace it. 

    I feel like I'm living my life parallel to everyone else. I'm not so much living, so much as coming up with stories of what life could be like if I was able to leave my bedroom. But every once in a while, a story overlaps with the world surrounding me, and when it does the world starts to shift, and a new reality comes to life. At least, I like to think that happens. Even if you no longer believe in an external reality independent of the thoughts, dreams, and hopes of humanity, it can be hard to remember that what you see isn't real. 

The Voice

 The voice inside me
Doesn't want to stay silent,
Doesn't want to listen
When I tell it no.

The voice inside me
Won't stop saying,
"The world belongs to you now." 

    It's national poetry month. I've been looking forward to writing more mini poems. I should really just write more mini poems all the time. They're fun to write. 

The Calm Before the Storm

Clouds
Obscure
The sunlight,
They say it's about to rain.
How much longer will it last,
This calm, before the storm?

 Don't get too excited about me publishing two poems yesterday. I just couldn't decide which one was more appropriate to publish, so I published both. Plus, I published the first have of one of them already, so it seemed extra fitting. 

As Long as There's a Lie (do-over)

 I've heard about reality,
A place where no one's heard.
A place of cold and emptiness
Where misery's assured.
People claim you need to know
What it is, so you'll get by.
But I'm sure that I'll be alright
As long as there's a lie.

As long as I don’t have to see
The ground beneath my feet,
So long as I pretend my world
Is always sugary and sweet,
Until they day the fates remind me
That not everything is fine,
I'm content to live my life
As long as there's a lie. 

So long as there's a lie,
I'm free to be what I am.
Good or bad, kind or mean,
Always happy as a clam.
I don't want much in this world
I know there will be days that I cry,
But I know It will all be okay,
As long as there's a lie.

But what if, someday, the truth breaks free,
And we're all forced to see what is real.
What if we're forced to remember
That the world goes beyond what we feel.
Can we let go of the dreams
That made our world glow bright?
Are we doomed to be stuck in darkness
With no sign of sunshine in sight?

As long as there's a lie,
I'll pretend that there's nothing wrong.
If people say this is what it is,
I'm happy to just go along.
If there's one thing I cannot do,
It's destroy the worlds we create
I know that within our hearts
Is a hunger I could never satiate.

So I'll keep my doubts in my heart,
Let my voice speak in whispers and sighs
For I know that we'll only survive
As long as there's a lie. 

I've heard about eternity
A place where we're all free,
A place of grace and beauty,
Sights too wonderful to see.
People say it won't exist
Until the day we finally die.
So we live in a world of simplicity,
As long as there's a lie.

But as we walk upon the rocks
In the ground beneath our feet.
It's become far to evident 
That life's not sugary and sweet.
Is this the day the fates remind us
That not everything is fine?
Will I no longer be able to live my life
When there's no longer any lies? 

This is the moment I realize
That I'm not free to be what I am.
Good or bad, kind or mean,
Cruel as a lion, or an innocent lamb.
I want a world where I am happy,
For I'm sick of the days when I cry.
I know that I can no longer be happy
As long as there's a lie. 

Today marks the day the world is reborn,
For the truth has broken free.
This is the moment we remember what's right,
And all the wonderful things we could be.
Let us create the new dreams
That will make our world glow bright.
If we're trapped in eternal darkness
Then it's up to us to bring forth the light.

I see now that I cannot lie
And pretend that nothing's wrong. 
If people say this is what it is,
I can't stay quiet, or just go along.
For if there's one thing that I must do,
It's remake what we have now destroyed.
I know that I have a moral duty
To keep us from staring into the void.

So I'll let my voice reach out
Far from where reality hides.
We can no longer be content to live only
As long as there's a lie. 

The Scourge of God

 It stands above the skyline
With a heart that has no feeling
With our minds and hearts in unison
Let our souls break through its sealing

Rip the evil ones apart,
Let the stars lose their devotion.
Let this false God fall forever,
Having lost all its emotion

Let the soul of those it worshipped
Be free of their enslavement.
With my voice let them remember
That they will be saved yet.

With the end of all that was
Let the new day dawn once more.
For the sun will rise tomorrow
And two plus two is four.

    One thing that worries me is this thought that, between AI and the Internet, we're soon not going to be able to garner a clear picture of what reality looks like. Maybe we'll have a solution, but the person who doesn't believe in objective, external reality is beginning to worry that someday, soon, no one else will be able to believe in it either. I could be wrong. I hope that I'm wrong. I hope that future historians turn and mock me for being stupid enough to think that reality, as a concept, could completely lose validity. But right now, it doesn't feel that way. 

    It's the first of April. I feel as thought spring should be arriving soon.