Author: White Whale

If you want a face to go with this idea, here you go: https://www.infowars.com/ex-spy-chief-admits-role-in-deep-state-intelligence-war-on-trump/

Ponder further that this guy went to work for what I understood to be something like a mercenary CIA, a private, for-profit company that would “take care of things” like, oh, I don’t know, murderering Putin’s personal chauffeur?

Ponder this.  Ponder what someone without a conscience and with a lifetime’s experience dealing out lies and disinformation could do with a billion dollar check.

For my money, he either needs to be legally put into permanent retirement, or the books of his company regularly audited, so that we know precisely who he is working for and what they are doing.  All this needs to be made the law.

And we need to assume that anyone he was close to at the CIA or elsewhere is part of the Traitor State.  We are not a nation of purges, but there is something to the logic of guilt by association.  I am not proposing jailing or killing them, as the Communists would, but simply removing them from the web of capabilities that being within our intelligence apparatus gives them, and then putting a permanent and close watch on them.  Give them a sizable payout, then let them take up painting or yoga somewhere remote.

As I ponder it this morning, is “Traitor State” not better than Deep State?  In the very best scenario, these people are corrupt.  If they were simply protecting illicit sources of revenue, they would be less contemptible than they appear to be.  What they APPEAR to be is an organized group, effectively, of Communist agents.  They may not call themselves that–in fact I would assume most don’t.

But they would call themselves something like Realists, or Pragmatists.  They would say “we can all see the worlds resources are dwindling”, or perhaps some are even so deluded as to believe in Anthropogenic Global Warming, their own lie, and say “if nothing is done, humankind will go extinct.”  Perhaps they think their globalism will mean global peace, and the end of war.

Collectivism, though, never means the end of war.  It means the institution of permanent war between the people and the State.  Where war does not exist, it is threatened, in the form of the possibility of arrest, confinement, torture, and murder.

All of this means that government employees, likely in close collusion with private sector individuals with either great wealth, or large political influence, are betraying their oaths of office to protect and serve both the American people, and the people they work for.

Having said all that, for practical purposes it seems to me that some large chunk of the CIA at least has gone over to the enemy.  What would prevent them, in the event of war with North Korea, from false flag attacks intended to destabilize the nation, and potentially even create the climate for a coup?

I was dreaming about the Bay Area last night.  I lived there for some 5 years.

What is interesting about that place is that the pace and expense of life turns people into assholes, into functional psychotics, and this is happening at the same time as the relative influence of the people who work there is increasing drastically.

Look at the influence Google and Facebook, specifically, wield.

Look at the influence the words compassion and justice wield, even when denuded of functional content, even when driven into being their very opposites.

I went to Berkeley.  I found the people there cold, rude and unfriendly.  There are too many people in the Bay Area, too much traffic, homes are much too expensive, work is too stressful, taxes are too high, and by the time many people get home at night, all they want to do is hide.

These are the people who want to rule our lives. As groveling as most of the peasants are, there are kings and queens, dukes and earls, and a landed aristocracy.  And their sense of purpose in life seems to derive in no small measure from plans to lighten the load of plebians they do not understand, do not interact with on a regular basis, and whose relative failures and successes affect them in no important way.

As I have mentioned from time to time, I do Lumosity fairly regularly.  It drops when I get busy, but I suspect I will play a lot this winter.

I don’t know if these games actually help me think better, but what I have noticed–and I do think I have commented on this, but will comment again, since I can’t remember exactly what I said–is that there is a part of me which holds onto patterns which cause me to make mistakes.  I get in touch with a psychological stickiness.  There is a need there, which makes me stupider.

Even in apparent abstraction, even in places where emotion should not intrude, it does, clearly.

And I would submit that most of the maladies of the modern world stem from something like what causes me to make mistakes on River Ranger or Speed Match.

When you are dealing with abstract problems, the abstract solutions can be suffused to overflowing with emotion, drenched in it, composed with it, but expressed in such a way that they seem rational.

What else, to take obvious examples, could the obsession with Jews the Russians had be composed of?  Lenin created the process of what might be termed “classicide”, and all Hitler did was take that same “logic”–which indeed predated both Lenin and Hitler–and apply scientific efficiency to it.

One can indeed speculate that if Russians were built psychologically more like Germans, if something like a Final Solution might not have been implemented with regard to the people the Communists disliked.

On consideration, though, no.  Communism is very different from Nazism.  The narcissism and inward-looking of the Nazis had content.  There was in fact a German nation, a German history, a German language, a German culture.  When Hitler said “German”, there was a concrete, if idealized, referent.

When Communists refer to “the workers”, there is no referent.  Russia in 1917 was an agricultural nation, where something like 10% of the economy or less was industrialized.  The entire coup by the Bolsheviks was a sham.  It was based on the lie that people who knew nothing about a class which was in any event nearly non-existent within their domain could speak for them, work for them, build for them, better them.

And historically, the oppression fell first and hardest on the very workers in whose name what they disingenuously called “The Revolution” was conducted.

But there is never any there where Communists are concerned.  This means they never actually agitate FOR anyone, not even themselves, at least consciously.  It is a confusion, a mental illness, a sort of schizophrenia, where whatever needs to be true for them to retain some semblance of psychological structure is treated as if it were true.

And the Big Lie upon which all Communists rest their sense of self is that the project is intended to improve humanity as a whole.  Not some segment of it, which was the Nazi’s project, but all of it.  All of us are supposed to be made better by their obsessions.

This means logically that conscious mass murder is anathema.  It is acting as if they were not the saviors of the world, not the creators of a mass utopia.  It is rejecting people in principle who would love them if they only understood them as liberators.

And if you look at Communist death counts, the vast bulk of them are from famine. Stalin used the Holodomor to bring the Ukraine under control, yes, but I think he also needed the food to feed his loyalists, since his system was failing already everywhere.  Mao thought the peasants–and they were peasants under him too–were hiding food, and that reports of the failure of his crop seeding ideas, which he thought were genius, were lies.  In Ethopia, their state of delusion was so complete that they thought moving people from one place where farming worked, to some other place where it did not, would be effective policy simply because miracles happen, and whatever they needed to believe to protect their own psychological integrity HAD to be true.

Thus, I would argue the true crime of Communism as an ideology is not the death count, not the genocides which it plainly has committed, but rather the pervasiveness of what I called Psychicide, the manic need to destroy human souls, human spirits, in order to protect the psychotic impulses of people who have used abstraction to manage emotional excesses which they have hidden from their conscious awareness and thus conscious control.

Reading this, I see there is a connecting thought I have not fleshed out, but for students of history, or any long term readers of my blog, the pattern should be clear enough.  We should not excuse the Cubans, as one example, simply because their version of Communism did not result in the deaths of large numbers of Cubans.  Their project–their continuing project–has been to convince the Cuban people that they love their leaders, that they love mass incarceration, humiliation, and poverty.  Their continuing project has been to enslave the minds of their people, to facilitate their physical enslavement, which is made in the minds of Communists liberation, because that is what they need to believe.  Ah, I’ll leave it there.

I am quite capable of delivering sermons like this face to face, but do not presently know anyone who would listen.  Still, I feel better.  I’m going for a walk, then to get something to eat.

I don’t know if anybody reads this, but it seems to be therapeutic for me to write, so I continue.  This is a way of releasing ideas within me, so that more can take their place.  Creativity is a habit, and you can only feed it by letting fly what comes, wishing it well, and waiting for new ideational children you will know for a moment, then let them go too.

As I have shared, I have major sleep difficulties.  I have clinical Complex Trauma, which is PTSD, but worse.  EMDR, for example, doesn’t work because I can’t remember anything, and it is my reasonably plausible theory that it depends on visual memory for at least part of its efficacy.

Be all that as it may, I have found that essential oils seems to help a bit.  I put Vetiver, typically, in an atomizer, and mix Lavender into an otherwise unscented lotion which I spread on my chest and arms and belly.  I notice the difference when I do this, versus when I don’t.  I also take some sort of melatonin supplement every night, and the ones with ZMA in some form seem to work best for me.

In the mornings I have also taken to putting different oils in lotion and spreading them on my chest, arms and belly.  The skin is highly efficient way, or so I read, of getting them into my system in a relatively healthy way.  They tell me not to ingest them, but I will occasionally anyway.

I particularly like Birch, Cedarwood, Bergamot, Hyssop, Clary Sage, and Angelica. I can’t say if they help anything, but it is a practice I have grown to like.

I rarely get sick–I go years without having anything but the “bottle flu”, which I have largely stopped doing as well–but when I do I find Eucalyptus and Peppermint oil help.  I will either put them in an atomizer or put them in a pan which I heat to create steam, and inhale.

I have also made Sage and Thyme tinctures.  I will drink a few drops of those from time to time.

I just made some Tarragon soda, which is quite tasty.  I got myself a Central Asian cookbook, and that is apparently a thing there.  I made it from ginger bug, though, and they apparently just mix in club soda.
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I won’t get into all my projects, but thought I might share a couple I thought might be of use to someone.

I treated myself to a nice brunch yesterday.  I had a very nice tomato-basil soup, and some filet mignon on blue cheese biscuits, with excellent coffee.  It was in a tony part of town, filled with wealthy, well dressed, largely happy looking people.

My first thought in places like that is that I have vastly more in common with the wait staff than most of the patrons, which is certainly true.  If I apply myself I make good money, but it is doing work most people would consider menial.  Most of the guys I work with smoke, no small number of them chew, and if any of them own suits, it is for church and funerals.

But I was also contemplating that so much of what we call pleasure is the IDEA of pleasure.  We think to ourselves “I must be having fun, because this is what everyone wants to do, but most people can’t afford.”

And I got to thinking about wealthy people skiiing Aspen, staying in expensive chalets, eating fine meals every night.  And I can’t help but think that while there is CLEARLY an inescapable element of pleasure in all this, that it cannot but be comingled with an awareness of being elite, of being special, of doing something most people can’t do.

We feel pleasure in the places where we are supposed to, but some portion of this pleasure actually disappears in the IDEA we form of the context.  The idea of what we are doing mediates to some extent the reality, the direct experience, of it.

And to the extent we mediate our emotions by our sense of what it is we are supposed to be feeling, we are unfree.  The world comes to us, and we filter it.  We seek what is “good”, and avoid what is “bad”, but in neither case do we ourselves ride out to meet the world as it is, on its own terms.

Does pleasure uniquely arise in us in response to circumstances?  Or is there something in us which can rise up anywhere, and influence our understanding and experience of circumstances, such that the connection between what happens “to” us is influenced BY us, making all circumstances potentially under our emotional control, such that we can remain positive and happy in varying circumstances?

In my understanding, this is substantially the argument made by Buddhists, among others. How do you make the ordinary beautiful?  How do you make the beautiful spectacular?

How can I get MORE pleasure from Waffle House than a 5 star restaurant?  It all depends, does it not, on who I am when I walk in, what I hear, what I feel, what I see?

I rarely mention it to anyone–I only told my kids in the past few years–but I have had tinnitus for many years, often in both ears.  It’s not something I worry about, or spend more than a few moments contemplating in an average day, but I made a decision a while back to incorporate some POSSIBLE solution into my daily routine some years ago.  I’ll take some pill most people say doesn’t work for a few months, and it doesn’t work.  Currently, I am taking the pharmaceutical grade Gingko Biloba.  I may stick with it since it seems to have other good properties too.

But I also recently picked up an interesting pamphlet, https://www.amazon.com/Tinnitus-Tyrant-Friend-Ringing-your/dp/1515102440/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1512918907&sr=8-2&keywords=tinnitus+books .

In it, he describes curing himself of tinnitus by treating it as a outcome of nervous system dysregulation, specifically chronic “alarm bells”, chronic activation of the fight or flight response.  As such, there is a clear and fundamental homology between tinnitus, in this description, and PTSD generally, and I am reading the book as such.

One point he makes often and clearly is that most “tinnitus people” (he describes a type, with many of the typical characteristics applying to me) rarely take time for self care, for finding things that genuinely make them happy, make them feel warm, make they feel relaxed.  I certainly have long had trouble with this.  I am good at making lists, doing half of them–although often many of the hardest things on it–then collapsing emotionally and getting drunk.  That I have long experience with.

In his telling, and I think he makes a good argument, tinnitus is then a barometer of the state of internal hyperarousal.  It is a thermometer for inner systemic tension.  Curing tinnitus is then nearly the same–perhaps exactly the same–as curing PTSD.

I am going to try and be kinder to myself.  I am certainly long practiced in being cruel.  I am going to try and find things that do make me deeply happy.  Nothing is coming to mind at this moment, but starting to look is a first step.  This is the beginning of a move from mere survival to living.

As I think about this a tad more, it occurs to me that the line which has been crossed is that the idea that Israel will just fade away and disappear, through some miracle, is no longer tenable.

Jerusalem, the City of Peace, has been the Jewish capital, arguably, since before the word Jew meant anything specific.  When Solomon built his temple, the Old Testament–as people raised in my own tradition call it–had not been completed.  I forget what the Jews call it.  I believe it is the Mishnah.

For their own purposes, the Israelis have long claimed Jerusalem, in the modern era, as their capital.

Thus, as many commentators have pointed out, including Nicki Haley (who I love), Trump has done nothing more or less than ratify publicly the existing status quo.

And here of course is the problem.  The Arab world, in a sustained fit of magical thinking which would put even today’s Never Trumpers to shame, does not want to accept this step because it ratifies the existence of the Jewish state, which they STILL reject 70 years later.

Now, one can reasonably ask how it is possible to conceive this, that a highly successful, vastly more militarily powerful nation could just up and vanish, just stop being, so that lazy, ignorant, and emotionally retarded people could just march in and proclaim it reclaimed for Islam and the greater Arab world.

It is ludicrous, farcical.  Israel would destroy most of the Middle East before it would allow itself to be conquered by anyone.

But the thinking around this has not evolved at all in far too many minds in 7 decades, 7 decades in which the children of refugees lived their lives in tents, fed by charity, and unable to find work or anything like a productive, dignified life, all so that ugly minds could continue to nurture ludicrous and ugly dreams.

Often, the first step in needed change is the speaking aloud, in public, of clear and obvious, but unwanted truths.  Trump has done that.

In classic grump-eccentric style–which is to say in the style of a grown man who has carried far into his life unbearable wounds he cannot let go of or heal–I have taken to allowing myself to speak to myself when I am in private.  It’s a lot like Freud’s free association, and a method I’ve developed to allow my unconscious to literally speak.

One thing that has come out is that both of my parents watched the light fade from my eyes.  Whatever hope and spontaneous joy and innate creativity I was born with died at some point.  I became dull and listless, then angry for reasons that were unclear to me.

But it occurred to me that there should be a word for either failing to feed someone’s light, and certainly for actively encouraging defeatism, failure, cynicism, and moral and emotional death.  Hence Psychicide, which seems to be unique to me.  Google comes up with nothing, although to me the idea seems obvious enough.

And as I ponder it, it occupies a unique place between homicide and suicide, because the root of the death can be, and usually is, a combination of Others (Sartre’s les autres might here be apposite) and one’s own being, as divided into a combative, self destructive component, and an unexpressed capacity to return to home and authentic goodness.

I was watching an interview with the killer they called the Iceman, and he loved to watch the light of life flicker and fade when he killed people, and loved that the last thing they saw was him.

There are people in this world who love this equally, but not as the result of physical murder.  It is the love of power, the root of the love of power.  When you have power, you can suppress the innate individuality of everyone who is subject to you.  You can lessen everyone else.  You can dim their light.  And in many cases, you can sap their will to live outright, which again is what I am calling Psychicide.

And I wanted to emphasize that true morality, true goodness, flows from an authentic and spontaneous, free sense of self.  As I have said before, the Tibetan Windhorse is a fantastic image.  It is a horse, running freely, with speed, for the love of movement, and a fantastically bright shining jewel on its back, spreading light wherever it goes.

The opposite, of course, is killing movement, killing freedom, killing the joy of movement, making everything dark and unclear, and destroying beauty, substantially all of which were, AND REMAIN, core objectives of Communists like George Soros.

If I were Trump, I would assign a group of highly intelligent and well funded people specifically to counter Soros and other well funded propaganda.

Far too many people are talking about human survival as a race of animals, as if our mere physical continuance is a major victory.  What I see is that if we do not retain the beauty we have evolved, it is all for naught.  There is no beauty in machines.  They are not alive, and cannot be.  Life is not a mechanical process: it is a spiritual process.

Clearly, you can mimic life, as you can mimic virtue, if I might complete my thought.  Many dead people do all the things that truly virtuous people do–or at least pretend to–but they mean none of it.  I was reading recently the story of a priest who seemingly–he was just convicted for it–raped and murdered a young and beautiful girl 50+ years ago, who made the mistake of being too Catholic.

Did him being a priest matter in the slightest?  But the case is worse: seemingly, local church officials, and local Catholic law enforcement officials were worried that a scandal might hurt Kennedy’s election chances.  So this priest was sent to the same places they sent known pedophiles, to lay low for a time, then be reassigned somewhere.

Is there anything sacred about such a process?  Even if every sacrament, every Mass, was delivered correctly, is this something Jesus would recognize as his own?  Is this something God would proclaim holy or good?

Virtue is nearly always hidden.  It lies dormant in most.  Yes, most people have been habituated to doing things in certain ways.  Habit and courtesy intermingle, and we call the combination salutary when we recognize our particular habits in others.

But who are you is the deeper question.  What do you mean in the recesses of your heart?  Who would you be if you knew you could get away with anything?  My own feeling is that perhaps a third of the people out there are quite capable of murder.  There have been times I would have been quite capable of it.  I have felt that feeling in myself.  I still do, sometimes.  It would not pang my conscience a bit to put a gun to George Soros head and pull the trigger repeatedly, just to be sure.

In the end, I was killed.  I died.  My parents watched the light fade from my eyes.  I joined them in the darkness.  And my entire life path has been spent seeking, and slowly finding, resurrection.

I am not there yet.  I have many, many miles to go.  I’m not even at the end of the beginning.  I’m at the beginning.  But learning to walk again is a prerequisite to one’s first step.  And to do that, you have to get off the ground, and learn to stand upright.  And you can only stand on your own two feet.  You cannot stand on those of anyone else.  Your path is your own.  Only you can travel it.  Only you can see it.  Far too many people give their lives away, because they fear the freedom they have been given as a gift, and far too many people are all to happy to take that life, because it gives them, for a time, the ability to pretend that they, too, are not neglecting their own way, their own path, their own destiny.

Edit: I did find a few instances of Psychecide.  My Greek is non-existent, so perhaps this is more faithful.  Still, I will stick with my neologism.

I’ve been giving some thought to getting a Thangka, and found these images of Tara: http://www.thangkapaintings.com/Content/Catalog/Browse/?CID=d3d9446802a44259755d38e6d163e820|5f5d

I read she is the most popular goddess in the Buddhist pantheon, and her description–click on detail on any of them for a more complete summary–sounds not that unlike Mother Mary.

What if focus on, meditation on, an image of perfect feminine compassion and wisdom is a method for dealing with maternal attachment issues?

And I would submit that the ideals of feminine and masculine represent real potential energies within each of us.  I do think psychological androgyny is clearly most healthy, but that is not the same as confusing the energies, conflating them, or denying their utility as ideals in human consciousness.

What myths do we still retain in our world, myths that mean something?  We have a propaganda of efficiency, which was called such by Jacques Ellul in the early 1960’s, of which “hacking” is but the most recent manifestation.  We have of course residual religious sentiments, but they are under sustained and somewhat effective attack.

We have the myth of Science, as a quasi-omniscient God.  But this is an entirely masculine ideal.  It has no compassion, no nurturing, no love, no feeling.

We have the myth of Compassion, but it has in large measure been denuded of actual sentiment, if not sentimentality.  It is for practical purposes most often wedded to Science, in what to my view looks like a gay marriage.  Both are masculine, as implemented.  Compassion is not listening in the modern world, not when expressed politically, which is where the word is most often used.  Rousseau, who more or less directly called for mass murder, used the word often.

Where is there time to listen?  To feel honestly?  To love honestly?  Who embodies this for us?  Mother Teresa, perhaps, for a short time.  The Dalai Lama? 

Women, in our world, are much too eager to be bad men.  It may be that substantially all things men can do women can do.  But it is certainly the case that there are things women can do that men cannot hope to do as well.  They have natural strengths, such as empathy, which are not much valued in an industrial/information industrial economy.

We all need balancing.  We all need to believe in unconditional love.  We all need to believe there is a place for us, and the feminine is what creates and preserves those places.

People–here of course I mean Leftists–would not be in such a hurry to destroy everything they see if they felt they were in fact loved, that they did have a place, and that there was a sanctuary at the end of their day.   They lack the sacred feminine.