Which is better: the masculine or the feminine?

female exec

“If you pay close attention, you will see that the most masculine man has a feminine soul, and the most feminine woman has a masculine soul.”

Masculinity is a trait of strength.  One that leads and solves.

Femininity is a trait of strength.  One that nurtures and creates.

Judging one as better than the other is a lost cause.  Both spirits are necessary.

And a life without either is a life that is devoid of beauty.


“I can’t go on like this,” she said.

Figure melting into a heart shaped shadow

After the initial of shock of being broke up with by text, I was overwhelmed by a feeling of panic at the loss.

Later when we met up again, she said, “I don’t feel anything for you.” She moved her hands helplessly between us: “There’s nothing.”

I didn’t feel the pain from that statement until much later. I didn’t allow myself to feel the pain.  But I needed to feel the pain, to realize that I had given my heart to someone who didn’t return the sentiment.  Then I realized how ignorant and mindlessly hopeful I’d been.  And then I felt the real pain. Not of the loss of someone, but of the shame of not accepting what I’d suspected all along: I cared about someone and they didn’t feel the same.

But pain is necessary.

It protects you when you’re injured, because it makes you stop.  So you can address the problem, and mend it. Whether it’s a broken arm, or a broken heart.

Ignoring your hurt and not admitting the problem is going against the natural course which you need to heal yourself.

The pain is where you get better.

Don’t avoid the pain.

They want to come here. Why?

People power

Thanks to a group of men who thought it would be a good idea to start a nation based on giving the individual more control over his or her life.

Men who had the balls to risk execution for treason against the most powerful nation in the world.

It began conservatively, when not everyone had the same rights, but these men had the wisdom to make their country’s laws amendable.

So our country changed.  We progressed, granting rights for freedom to all:

Freedom to vote, freedom for unrestricted speech, and freedom to own property.  And today, different cultures, races, and ethnic groups flock here to make a living. Because we let people live how they please.

We will pass through this current presidency, as our nation’s machinations between the three branches of government continue to function.

Because despite what we may think, our President is only one person, not the CEO of a company, not a dictator, but a representative, of one branch, who is held accountable for his actions, if not his words.

Gratitude on this July 4th

For our continued freedoms, and our ability to fight for change in a country which was made for people who are empowered by their government to do better, if they want to pursue such happiness.

Why do people come to live in this country?
Because this country still trusts the individual over the institution.

Let’s keep it that way… by voting for leaders who do not favor the corporate institution or the government institution over people.  Leaders who want to empower us, rather than empowering themselves.  Let us be as wise as we expect our leaders to be.

We may not have the wheel to the car, but we have the keys.

Let’s start acting like it.

she was the one who made me stop


Our little group sat under the tree, a tree which luck had granted us directly in front of our camp, its branches carrying a crowd of green up above to shade us. The beaming sun was climbing its way through the morning to its apex, and we sat talking.

Then the words slowed, and her and I found ourselves looking at each other.  I held her glance gently, and we locked in, eyes not wavering.  I felt an immediate energy manifest itself. It simmered in the air, winding up and down, like a surfer effortlessly twisting on a moving wave.

The others’ voices faded away. I saw her long dark hair, her legs, her hips… but I began to see something behind those calm, dark eyes.  Transcending the physical and connecting to what is beyond it. We were showing ourselves honestly, and in that, we had become fearless.  It was a liberating feeling. Her eyes refused to leave mine, and we held on to each other like this.

I felt the urge to say something… but I stopped myself.  I stayed with her instead.  I stayed present, because that was where I truly wanted to be, and that was where she needed to be.

Time slowed down and our friends continued on around us, but I had no idea doing what. Did they notice our engagement? Could they feel our energy? Irrelevant, because as we sat there a short distance from each other, it didn’t matter if there were three people around us, or one hundred.  We were having a conspiracy together.

Then she broke it, looking away without a word.  And I was left wanting more, with questions about who she really was.

There are so many more

Art: Tomi Reichard. Find on instagram and at mustachemachineblackbetty

“Sorry I’m late,” she apologizes, and I know she is, because she hates the gaps as much as I do.

She surprised me, a welcome surprise. I had been moving through a vast stretch of emptiness. It is completely encompassing, against a blackness which light is not penetrating.

Deep space always rattles me. Everything is far away and lost, and it makes me feel the same. The immense gaps between stars is belittling, careless of my existence. It is the metaphor for living life: Without something to ground you, you become part of the nothing of reality, unless you go grab a hold of something. Something to live for.

I move through the nothingness, focusing on my goal. I can feel the  stretches of space streaming by me, light-years, gone. Or else I am imagining it, because the only frame of reference I have is myself.  The only basis for my movement right now is my superskin clocking my distance and trajectory.

I feel profound isolation, and then a small spark of dread tingles in my heart. ST had warned me of this, how to address the creep of space dysphoria.  I was beginning to slide.

I focus my gaze ahead, stabilizing my lateral movement and pitch and then increase my speed. The change provides me stability, in my head. How ironic…but now I have a kinetic ledge to hold, an axis to ride through the void.

And, from somewhere behind me, my route mate crackles, “Here”, with her apology.

She matches my speed, and I slowly crawl out of the confusion in my head.  I have a reference point now, but I also latch onto a faint muddle of light that struggles from a far away star system. It’s not our system, but I hold onto it.  With my mate’s arrival and this blurred smudge of light, I savor the feeling of being in relation to my surroundings.  I am not alone.

We run on for a bit without talking, basking in the simple presence of each other, the only life for an unfathomable distance. A distance truly appreciated by the time it takes to cross it. Fortunately, superskins were super proficient at time-sinks during these commutes.

“Spotting,” I said, and we both slow imperceptibly.  I point out the hazy clump of light that has manifested itself out of the darkness in the distance to our starboard. We veer slightly towards our destination and push even faster. I hear a jet of O2 rich air before I inhale it. It compensates for the acceleration.

“Final trajectory” I announce. We are clocking quite fast now…another bank of light instantly materializes from the opposite side.  It maintains itself for a minute.

“What stage?” I ask.
“Eight,” her reply comes into my ears. “They’re making good time.”
“What about our’s?” I ask. “Humanoids still progressing?”
“Yes,” she answers after checking the record. “They made it off-planet… within their system”
“That’s a good start,” I said.
“But their colonies are at war,” she sighed. “And they have a million year black hole event. And its overdue.”

She was quiet. There was only the purr of carbs resonating through my suit, pushing me on.  A swirl of finely-pointed lights came into sight, our lights, and I feel the rotors engage and brace myself although I don’t need to.  It’s the noise, really… the grinding stretches on until the soft pulse of my aft jet corrects my trajectory and we were coasting again.

“Perimeter maintained,” I said. The swirl resolves into differentiated dots of light, and I take in the details of each planet. Their weapons could not affect us while we’re in dimensional stasis, but I listen for alarms anyway.

“They might make it.” I said. “If they cooperate.”

“I hope so,” she said, and then she surprised me, again:

“But if they don’t… there are so many more.”

I have little idea about real sacrifice


Just finished the series The Pacific. What a powerful demonstration of courage, and commitment, and pride, and hate, and chaos. May we never have to go to such extents ever again.

And while peace is always the first, second, and third route of problem resolution, when it comes time to use deadly force and be put in harm’s way, it’s our soldiers who make the sacrifice. And they continue to fight in our current war as we sit in the comfort of our cities.

I have gratitude for this, despite all the problems that come with the United States’ policing the world.

I have little idea about real sacrifice, and I doubt most of us ever will.

I knew I was talking to a fascist


Fascism….Some group trying to control others using rules based on their authority.

It can come from the Left. It can come from the Right.

It can come from any religion..except maybe Buddhism, or Taoism…

It can come from those who are angry and shouting, or smiling and quiet.

But it always comes from those who want to take action against you, or prevent your personal action. It always comes from someone who is well-intentioned, and wants to help.

It always comes from a sense of great pride that they know what’s better for you and everyone else.

Keep your head on a swivel for these selfish hypocrites.

Because these Authorities of Virtue can wear whatever color uniform.

They can hold whatever flag. They don whichever religious garb. What determines their value is whether they want to empower you… or take power from you.

Instead, have your own code.  And always stand up for it.

But don’t push it too far, because there might come a day when you’ll look down and notice you’re wearing a uniform.

And maybe you’re holding a flag. You might even be shouting down others with your group’s chant. Because you’ve gone so far and become so convinced. And now you don’t believe they have a right to their point of view to even speak it.  Or others to hear it.

And that’s when you might realize that you’ve become a fascist, too.

That’s my pecker

He said it proudly. His accent was a thick Russian, and that annoyed me as well.

The three men, his “peckers”, nodded to me, avoiding making eye contact, no surprise, and took their seats in front of the monitors.

What are they doing? I asked.

“Their job,” the man answered glibly. This irritated me and before I could mask it, the irritation manifested into a narrowing of my eyes.

“They look fucking autistic.” I said.

“They’re professionals,” the man was unphased. “but if they’re distracted from their focus, they can be…erratic.”

“They don’t know the objective,” I said.

The man looked surprised, “You need to find the spread of a virus.”

I shook my head, the irritation rising a grade to exasperation. “It’s not a virus…It’s-”

“Malware… we understand,” the man interrupted.

“No,” I said. “You’re not listening.” Fucking men. No patience. All assumption. “It’s not like anything you’ve seen before, anyone’s seen before.”

I saw his face grow the self-assured look of someone who had heard this kind of decree before. I went on, but choose my words carefully, not wanting to bruise his male ego.

“Your men’s job is detection. And they’re the best at it.” I saw his eyes soften. “But this isn’t a virus, or a bug.”

He was expressionless, So what is it? he asked. I went on:

This.. is… a predator. It probes for its target, it doesn’t get run, like a program. It’s dropped into an environment and it self-executes. There is no lag, there is no latency. This has an infinite timeline, it is chronic.”

The man was listening intently. And his peckers had turned and were listening intently as well. After a moment, one spoke of it

“And this predator has evolved. Its scope has grown to all industrial controls… Water, Electric, transportation. And it has the payload to take these control systems down.”

This evolved predator evolved from Stuxnet, a worm developed by the US and Israeli governments that targeted machine controls to cause the machine to malfunction. It was deployed in 2009 and 2010 to cause the Iranian centrifuges in their uranium enrichment facility to spin out of control and explode.

Here’re the interesting parts: The worm was causing direct damage in the real world and it didn’t need internet network connectivity to jump between machines to infect them. The worm’s code was changed by the Israeli’s to be more aggressive and it resulted in it being discovered by the Iranians, and worse still, it led to the worm spreading to computer systems all over the world, including the US, where Homeland Security spent resources trying to protect the US from the worm it helped create.

And a computer predator the US created has escaped again. Today, and affected transportation systems and hospitals. When will we learn how to contain these digital weapons we create? When the damage it does is too great to ignore. Until then….

Beware of Skynet.

Electing tyrants

beer hot tub

He is usually of the elite but has a nature in tune with the time — given over to random pleasures and whims, feasting on plenty of food and sex, and reveling in the nonjudgment that is democracy’s civil religion.

He makes his move by “taking over a particularly obedient mob” and attacking his wealthy peers as corrupt. If not stopped quickly, his appetite for attacking the rich on behalf of the people swells further. He is a traitor to his class — and soon, his elite enemies, shorn of popular legitimacy, find a way to appease him or are forced to flee.

Eventually, he stands alone, promising to cut through the paralysis of democratic incoherence. It’s as if he were offering the addled, distracted, and self-indulgent citizens a kind of relief from democracy’s endless choices and insecurities. He rides a backlash to excess—“too much freedom seems to change into nothing but too much slavery” — and offers himself as the personified answer to the internal conflicts of the democratic mess.

He pledges, above all, to take on the increasingly despised elites. And as the people thrill to him as a kind of solution, a democracy willingly, even impetuously, repeals itself.


Life penetration


“Most of us could easily compile a list of goals we want to achieve or personal problems that need to be solved. But what is the real significance of every item on such a list?

Everything we want to accomplish—to paint the house, learn a new language, find a better job—is something that promises that, if done, it would allow us to finally relax and enjoy our lives in the present.

Generally speaking, this is a false hope. I’m not denying the importance of achieving one’s goals, maintaining one’s health, or keeping one’s children clothed and fed—but most of us spend our time seeking happiness and security without acknowledging the underlying purpose of our search.

Each of us is looking for a path back to the present: We are trying to find good enough reasons to be satisfied now.”

Sam Harris