edwards block

I’m no Martin Luther King. I’m not even a Christian – at least, not the capital-C, church-on-Sunday, wait-for-the-rapture, don’t-choke-your-chicken-or-you’ll-burn-in-hell kind of Christian. I’m more of a great-mysterious-nuclear-energy-in-the-universe kind of spiritualist, which (along with my disbelief in the story of Jesus, Mohammed, Santa Claus, and Raelian-alien-rescue) is really a pretty atheistic interpretation of spiritualist, so I guess I’m really not a Christian at all.

If your spiritual house is built on all that stuff about virgin birth (or one of the other deity-based religions), I encourage you to give Zeitgeist: The Movie a viewing. It provides a very interesting interpretation of history on which the Christan church, and other religious institutions, are based. The film is full-length, in documentary format, and contains three distinct sections. After a longer than usual, visual, introduction comes the section to which I referred, Part 1. It is a fairly easy to watch segment, and though it raises major questions about the veracity of religious assumptions, I would think that most viewers would find it somewhat empowering. The following two sections are more challenging if you are not fond of conspiracy theories related to 9-11 and international banking, but they come after part one, so you can always stop watching then, if you like. However, I would encourage watching the whole thing, for though I am undecided on how much of parts two and three I would accept as factual, it is thought provoking. If nothing else, at least watch Part 1. It’s brilliant. You can watch it online for free here, or download it for later viewing for free here. Or, you can order the DVD for $5 from the website, http://www.zeitgeistmovie.com.

Anyway, back to my primary purpose. I have a dream, I’m not ML King, etc, etc. I’m also not a visible minority, unless you count wild-bearded men with pasty legs and knobby knees who run around all winter in shorts as minorities, which I suppose they are, but they aren’t a historically persecuted minority, unless you count not getting laid on Saturday night as a form of persecution. The fact is, I have a great many dreams. I’m not talking about the kind of dreams that wake you up at three AM in a cold sweat, or at nine AM in a warm wet spot, but more like imaginations, instinctive mental images that come in the form of daydreams and subconscious aspirations.

Most of the time, these dreams are not expressed openly, and when they are, unfortunately, they are typically expressed in a more negative form, such as an attack on whatever institution, tradition, power structure, or lummox in a Hummer I believe prevents the dream from becoming a reality. Generally, I feel (accurately or not) that I am encouraged to keep these dreams to myself, and I don’t react all that well to stuffing things inside and forgetting about them. I can either make some effort to release the dreams constructively, or they will come out in unproductive, unpleasant, and perhaps self-destructive ways.

After essentially “dropping out” of the mainstream rat race in 2005, I’m currently in the position of trying to make money, ideally without having to completely and without restraint whore myself out to the Protestant Lords of Capital. I’m not opposed to a little survivalist whoring – the construct of our society and our economy makes it extremely difficult not to participate – I just don’t want to buy into the whole whoring game so thoroughly that I start to think that I’m Princess Goddamn Privilege and forget that I am a corporate whore, trying to accumulate enough wealth that I can start buying up more shit that I don’t want so that I can pretend to be someone that I don’t want to be.

The easiest thing to do, according to popular opinion, would be to find a nice job and learn to like it. There’s a lot to be said for a nice, comfortable tan cubicle in a climate-controlled building with a gym and a bike locker and a lunch room. Many do it, seemingly without major anxiety. At least, not any anxiety that can’t be managed with Xanax or Prozac. Thank Jesus for the corporate “health” plan! I’m not one for medicating symptoms that are completely avoidable, however. Schizophrenics should probably take medication to help them live. Office workers should not take meds to keep them from blowing off their own heads out of despair for their lot. They should find a new path. It’s frightening to think about stepping off the treadmill and following your heart, and the uncertainty that comes with it. But it’s very likely that it’s a lot less frightening than coming to the realisation just what you didn’t do with your life, two seconds before you drop dead for good.

It remains to be seen what my ongoing path will be. I suppose I’ll just throw it out there to the great-mysterious-nuclear-energy-in-the-universe and see what happens. Maybe a year from now I’ll be chowing down on Paxil and smiling broadly for some exploiter entrepreneur as I invest my labour in his children’s leisure, with no hope of a reasonable ROI, watching my days tick by. Or maybe something more magical will happen. Ya gotta dream.

Stay tuned for the dreams.