For Whom Does Language Have Meaning?

Bing AI generated image

The French thinker is the amalgamation of his words, embodied in the fluid poetry and structure of the French language, where the quality and personality of life emerge in a cultural-linguistic style. Germans, on the other hand, understand that language is a weapon and tool for subordination and building structures and, consequently, discipline. This brings us to Americans for whom language is meaningless; they see it as a commercial reflection of economy and wealth, a means to a financial end, or an inconvenience that trips many into stumbling. America builds chaos and uncertainty.

These three languages overlap in that each contains elements of the other, and those who gain some mastery over their usage elevate themselves over the masses. This elevation effectively removes any hint of ornamental ideology by stripping the person of their potential equality with the horde, thus relinquishing the base of humanity to being nothing more than “things.”

Through language, we gather potential because the specificity of purpose allows the succinct conveyance of intention, creating confidence. Teaching a person the cadence of the policeman creates a law-enforcement officer with the authority to command another human being. The soft cadence of the teacher, nurse, or clergy member offers the person before them a sense of caring and compassion. Then there’s the actor or musician who uses crafted language to create a lyrical persona embodying the star figure their fans perceive. All the while, the common person, a sort of financial pawn, offers purpose and potential income to the controlling language-proficient elites who require the masses for their simplicity and desire to stand in awe of those who’ve attained a professional level of mastery.

So, in my eyes, language is a veil where illusions take form and induce dreams of self that help propel our existence into meaning. In a previous age, those with mastery of these tools were shamans, witch doctors, and magicians, while today, they are politicians, celebrities, and storytellers, all using a highly crafted means of communication that convey a common desirable persona on populations within our societies.

Puppets of the Machine

Puppet of the Machine

Why even try to develop knowledge and a broad vocabulary when AI can offer you the illusion of having acquired those things? I’m all for using available tools to discover and learn, tools that allow us to integrate new things into our repertoire of exchange and communication. But if we start hiding behind a facade built by and with AI, we’ll become puppets of the machine.

Erudition arrives quickly for those who are young and focused and considerably longer for those who are distracted and maybe a bit too hedonistic. Of course, society doesn’t want to spend time waiting for knowledge to arrive in people when the economy is measured in productivity that matters at the moment. We must all find our economic quotient quickly so the system can better assess our value and convince us to take on the financial burden of those things that help move money. The measure of GNP is more important than the measure of the quality of life, so the quicker one fakes it, the quicker the system believes you are “making it.” Artificial Intelligence allows us to chat with the accumulated knowledge of humanity and, therefore, in some way, absolves us from having to peel back the layers of discovery on our paths into intellectual acumen. The risk is that not only will we eschew book knowledge, but we may also forget to explore self-knowledge.

Know thyself is an ancient Greek maxim that served humanity well as it encouraged our species to then discover what serves us and unloads some of the burdens of physical existence, but that process of knowing has taken thousands of years to get us to where we’re at today. As we compress the time requirements to become learned with the assistance of electronic transformers buried in the machine of AI, will we correspondingly decouple the time demands from companies that exert pressure on our free time to self-explore? The sad answer is probably no, and for good reason: the average person would likely fritter away those gained moments on frivolous entertainment and mindlessly numb their senses to gain nothing, while those of us who’ve already placed a premium on learning and exploration will have to maintain the status quo because being in a minority doesn’t inspire the powers that be to afford special privileges to the few.

As the machine of AI enters the landscape, the human will gain an appearance of greater knowledge, meaning greater economic viability at an earlier age. This facade of intelligence becomes the body armor of the age and our smart machines become munitions for combat on the field of economic dominance. In an apparent second, humanity has discovered a new form of war gained by adorning ourselves with the fashions of GPT.

Happy May Day

Saguaro bloom in Phoenix, Arizona

Something that isn’t always readily apparent is that I take breaks from writing for this blog, especially after dealing with some exceptionally long posts. In this case, it was following the 10,000 words and over 100 photos I had written about our visit to Death Valley National Park in California back in early April. Blog posts published between these bigger events are not always written in sequence; take the Frog Pond entry as an example: it was written while I was deep in carving out my thoughts about Death Valley.

I felt that I needed to take a pause as there are times that my mind falls into an intensity of writing to the exclusion of other things, and these nearly two weeks were one of those times. Last year, I wasn’t afforded any breaks due to our extensive travel schedule, but then I was prepared for the long haul. This year, we do not have such a rigorous routine ahead of us, also by choice, and so I’ve been able to “take time off” to focus on some neglected areas of life, such as music things. Today, my pause caught up with me, and the proverbial cup overfloweth.

Barrel cactus bloom in Phoenix, Arizona

When I’m writing, my deep focus on trying to find meaningful exposition has me blocking everything around me while I am gazing at my photos and looking to discover if there’s an essence of love imbued in the images that will inspire my fingers to write something eloquent. I’ve often shared with others that my morning writing routine is a catharsis and my version of the gym allowing me to work out. Failing that, I stare into our world, and what I see is a horror show where a flood of stupid spills over my senses and sends shockwaves into my ability to focus.

It was time to escape, but first, I had to put digital pen to electrons and hammer out a screed of anger, allowing my spleen a proper venting, so I wrote Self-Righteous Stupidity, and with indignation and self-loathing, I allowed myself to fall into the turmoil and torture that is often my travel companion when I’m forced to consider the ugly situation of the masses surrounding me. This opportunity to use my time as I see fit, considering I don’t have the requirement to report to a job, can be a curse at the same time; it is a blessing. At least in the course of going to work, we can console ourselves with the idiom, “The devil you know…” as we grow accustomed to our co-workers, but when every day we are confronted with the confounding heavy-handed stupidity of those likely wasting a few minutes in banal small talk, society starts to take on the appearance of failing state where only the dumb will inherit the future.

Ocotillo bloom in Phoenix, Arizona

Unhappy in my pursuit, I needed to break out and put myself back on track by channeling something meaningful to me anyway. So, I grabbed my camera and a long lens, heading out into a hot and windy May Day to capture some of the flowers that Caroline and I have been vibing to during our morning walks. By looking into the natural world populated by things other than people, I am allowed to expunge the distraction fraught with the ugly bits that currently obsess humanity and see the flowers and birds who just go on surviving with nary a care for the drama that consumes us bipedal idiots.

The saguaros are in bloom, as are the barrel cacti and ocotillo plants, though that’s not all because we are currently in the throes of a pollen storm as our desert transitions from cooler to hotter season. The riot of color brings with it a riot of nasal flow, but that’s okay as the pollen will start to fade while it’s transformed into a baked dust that will sit atop the surrounding desert scape until the arrival of the monsoons sends it aloft to attack us for a second time. If we are lucky, the monsoons won’t only bring high winds but will carry rain with them to just as quickly wash it all away. Venturing out into my neighborhood to take in these images is, for me, the proverbial monsoon rinsing the dry, scratchy senses left raw by the pollen of stupid people.

Cactus bloom in Phoenix, Arizona

Should you think I enjoy this brusque assault on those around me, you’d be wrong. I want to have compassion for those who can’t help themselves, but we live in an age where we can all help ourselves be better informed and not so gullible to sensationalist manufactured outrage. Until the time when we collectively awake and take to cultivating the potential we all have, I will continue the lament that our society is by and large withering in the throes of great stupidity with nothing to show for it but the ugliness of intolerance and petty-minded simpleness that is unbecoming of a species where only the fringes are in full bloom.

6.0 Upgrade Approaching

Generative art created using Bing

There really is little planning that can be applied to the future when it comes to grown people. There may be a desire to enhance or modify things, but the ability to roll out a new, fully formed version of a person, well, that’s not very likely; we must simply evolve and come into being. Just as there is the intention to do things or go places, we can also lend influence to our future selves in much the same way as planning for our next vacation by sketching an outline of what our adventure might entail.

Consider my upcoming 60th birthday: described that way, it only implies I’m growing older, whereas if I say that I’m being upgraded to John 6.0, I need to give serious thought to what this new, improved version will include.

One might think that with the breadth of versions of the 5.0 series, I would have had time to consider what is up next for improvement, but in fact, I’ve been concerned with performing to the best of my ability as version 5.9 prior to it giving way to 6.0.

Trying to perceive one’s self at some random future date is simply impossible. Never have I been even a remotely mediocre predictor of who I’d become. As a matter of fact, I don’t really know how to explain who I am on a day-to-day basis, nor would I be well-equipped to explain who I’ve been. The only real constant throughout the majority of my adult life is that I’ve been deeply entangled with my wife and best friend, Caroline. We’ve done stuff, lots of different things, and not one of them rises to a level that would be note-worthy on an obituary. I’m not the inventor or creator of anything noteworthy, and then again, I don’t require accolades that would note the already lofty places I’ve encountered in my life as what ranks higher than others.

This is a bit of a dilemma, though, as when I was a child, I fancied ideas of becoming so many very different things, and right up through my 50s, there were potentials such as realizing my dream of creating a virtual reality environment. Well, I did just that from the time I was 51 to 54. As a kid, I dreamt of making movies, music, writing, being an artist, a photographer, and a traveler to exotic places. To one degree or another, I’ve done most of that, but now I want something for the next decade that stems from a mind having explored itself and the world around it for the previous 60 years. This idea of being so realized that nothing of great invention remains is a thought I don’t want to entertain, but what would punctuate my life so far seems elusive.

Generative art created using Bing

A child possesses what I may no longer be able to play with: dreams. The child’s dreams are ones of play and discovery – unless a careless parent instills fears of bogeymen and other monsters. So, while most of my dreams have migrated away from the chase after I turned off television and stories of mayhem, they are still possessed of anxieties about forgetting things in places visited or being in old haunts where order is threatened by chaos and uncertainty. Innocence cannot be recovered, which then has me thinking of how many children have that precious time stolen from them due to anger, immaturity, dependence, abuse, and the lack of knowledge that benights a large part of the population bringing children into this world.

When the dream of becoming, acting, traveling, working, and adventure no longer exists, what replaces the dream?

Most recently, it has started looking like it might be the world of artificial intelligence that intrudes into and alters our dreams. While I’m well aware that AI is a progression in the lineage of human advancements in language, writing, printing, electronic communication, and internet technologies, I’m still laid aghast at the profound nature of just what it is that I’m encountering. I’d certainly not be surprised if it were proven to me that what I’m seeing is nothing more than a parlor trick that the old guy fell for, but from my vantage point, I’ve watched fire give way to the wheel, to written language, and blam, all of sudden here is artificial intelligence. If you were born in the last half dozen years, you will likely be growing up with a superintelligence that will have you wondering why people ever listened to other people.

To this point in history, humanity has lived “without mastery,” we have simply been in our own kind of oblivion where we are at the center of everything yet intuitively somehow know we are no one. The earth and its various species appear to be suffering from our carelessness as we failed to master the knowledge that we are part of the earth’s life, not separate from it. Artificial Intelligence might be the thing that comes between us and the rest of life with the potential for AGI (Artificial General Intelligence) to demonstrate in human terms our failings toward the planet and its diversity of life forms, which could also imply that our religions have failed us.

This is a great advancement to me as I feel incredibly isolated by the limited number of others with whom I can communicate on a daily basis and who are genuinely interested in broad knowledge. While common bloviation is de rigueur among the least educated (including those with better educations who’ve adopted the white-victimization position), I sense that the landscape regarding humans around me is one of desolation. Mind you, I understand that small talk must take place for social cohesion, but what nowadays counts as the subject matter of that conversation is one of absurdist turd-talk, maybe best exemplified by the South Park character Mr. Hankey, a talking piece of poo.

Generative art created using Bing

Humans and possibly Neanderthals seem to have been practicing exosomatic memory starting between 100,000 and 300,000 years ago, and from then until now, this has been the exclusive domain of us bipeds. Exosomatic memory is the recording of memories outside the brain; it’s why we create paintings and carvings, write music, and create stories in books. This is undergoing a potential change, though, as machines are starting to offer us humans reflections of our culture through natural language prompts.

Think about it: we looked at the outside world and began to learn that we could label and refer to those things. It took 10s of thousands of years to build a body of knowledge that has brought us this far. We have now fed a large part of that into the machines, and while it requires us to prompt it, it is able to respond with a complexity of language and imagery that in some ways should seem as impossible as embuing a tree with those capabilities, meaning it is outside the realm of the possible, but here we are.

AI may turn out to merely be a chimera, a flash in the pan of illusion that goes nowhere aside from a dead end of technology, but we do not know yet for certain what it means, and we have never proven to be good interpreters of the trajectory of the future.

And so we’ll just go on taking stuff out of our heads and putting it out there for others to consume, even when what we share is dropping from the cauldrons of utter stupidity we call modern minds.

Generative art created using Bing

One might say that as I enter this upgrade series of 6.0 and beyond, it comes with wisdom from the machine that will, if I’m so lucky, also enhance my basic operating system. Granted, I will have to face it without fear, which won’t be easily said by the rest of those of us who arrived on the border of Generation X and the Baby Boomers and are now generally afraid of the sea change that is about to stare them down.

Things Went Slowly

Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona

It’s Sunday, and we all know what that means. No, we will not be going to church, though last night, the conversation at dinner did turn to Radical Amishism it was probably more in the sense of a fashion statement than a set of principles and doctrines to live by. Oh yeah, back to Sunday. It is the end of the weekend, and we’ll be returning home today after our ever-so-brief pause out here in the ever-shrinking town of Duncan, Arizona. Before I get too far ahead of myself or gather too much distance to my obtuse reference regarding Radical Amishism, Clayton, seeing the book I’m reading, thought he’d read the title correctly until, on second glance, he saw that it is Radical Animism.

Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona

If it were 40 years earlier and I understood back then that I didn’t require institutional validation to allow me to write, today I just might be the author of Radical Amishism because, after a quick glance into my imagination and a minor amount of consideration, I’d be down with it. I’d have picked up where Edward Abbey left off with Desert Solitaire, taking some of his ideas into the eastern farmlands of the United States where a radical band of Amish farmers becomes psilocybin mushroom growers, working with Humphry Osmond to change the toxic psychological profile of America following the harmful influence of Ayn Rand and her brand of success regardless of cost. But this is a silly exercise that will go nowhere as my flight of fancy is nothing more than a tactic to distract myself from having to write about why I like the light fixtures in the hallway of the hotel against an antique ceiling.

Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona

Had I invested a bit more in that machination, maybe I’d have had enough material to cascade past the previous photo to fall under this photo of the coatrack, which stands in the corner of the Library Room we have occupied. The truth is that there is nothing of real interest in capturing this other than there were qualities of light I was enjoying and a hint of an idea that the small details in the room that are not defining attributes of the place might allow granular memories of our time here that couldn’t be had with a greater overview captured in a previous visit.

Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona

Soon, a gourmet refection will be presented that will inch us closer to the conclusion of our time of intentional languishing where we were someplace other than home. While we’ll be leaving at some point after noon, our state of mind of being elsewhere will continue as the abundance of wildflowers we’d seen on the drive out will have us gawking along the way to capture yet more memories of the rare occasions when their bursts of color carpets the landscape.

Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona

Not only do the enticing aromas of our evolving meal waft from the kitchen so do the sounds of Piano Sonata No. 3 in B Minor from Chopin as it keeps time with the old clock ticking off the seconds of the day here in the parlor. That clock just might be part of the allure, but so might the concerted effort to romanticize the simultaneous simplicity and sophistication of our moments spent among the ghosts of another time.

Let us return to this idea of a refection. You might have been wondering if I’d found this word in the thesaurus, and that is exactly where it came from. I originally wrote “repast,” but on my third reading, it felt a bit too archaic, and I didn’t want to use “meal” for the sixth time in this post. Looking for an alternative, I came across this word that was new to me. The dictionary defines refection as a refreshment by food or drink, but wait, there’s more. In zoology, this word describes partly digested fecal pellets. As one not familiar with such an idea, ChatGPT came to the rescue to inform its humans that:

Partially digested fecal pellets are usually found in animals that have a digestive system that requires them to eat their feces. For example, rabbits eat their feces as it is an important part of the digestive process. Rabbits’ digestive systems can’t extract all the nutrients from food the first time it is digested. During the digestion process, soft pellets called cecotropes are formed. Termites are another example of animals that produce fecal pellets. 

Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona

Can you guess where this goes next? My follow-up book to the 1983 bestseller Radical Amishism was Refection Recipes of the Radical Amish Psychedelic Pioneers. Who hasn’t thought while tripping on shrooms that eating one’s own partly-digested fecal pellets might kick a second time? As someone who doesn’t exactly relish the idea of eating poop, a cookbook was in order.

Now, before you go thinking, this is gross, John, I agree, but this is Sunday, and I swear that some of this is a product of automatic writing influenced by this painting of Santo Niño de Atocha. Yep, that’s exactly how this got here.

Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona

The cat is calling bullshit; you can see it in his stare.

The sun has been pouring in on us through the two large picture windows while Chef Clayton continues to busy himself in the kitchen. Intermittently, he pops over, mumbling something about Ezekiel the Radical Amish Clown as Caroline fends off Fabio the Cat with the whole commotion disturbing my reading of Jack Mendelsohn’s Being Liberal in an Illiberal Age: Why I Am a Unitarian Universalist.

Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona

Is anyone here in need of a baptism? John 03:19 is on hand for administering the sacrament of admission to the Radical Amish Church today. Please don’t confuse this reference to today’s date with the biblical quote of John 3:19, which states, “God’s light came into the world, but people loved the darkness more than the light, for their actions were evil.” From the 1991 manga version of the Radical Amish Bible page 126, the thought bubble as spoken by Santo Niño de Atocha read, “John’s light was murky, but people loved the murk as it reminded them of feasting on their refection.”

Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona

General Antonio Lopez de Santa Ana Huevos Rancheros, a.k.a. a Gentleman’s Huevos, have been brought to the table, and to call this concoction exquisite wouldn’t adequately share the delight that was had. I recognize that this indulgence reflects my own lack of culinary acumen as, comparatively, I am making food for rabbits and termites that fatten us but fail to alight the soul. Our meal was taken to the sounds of Alicia de Larrocha’s Granado, and as it faded, our morning ritual approached an end, too.

Our conversation moves from the table to the kitchen as we discuss the art found in the ritual of preparing a meal. In a sad moment of self-awareness, I must admit that my ideas of intentionality pale in comparison to someone who exercises his will to affect and deliver a quality of life that far surpasses my own feeble attempts. Maybe I can learn a thing or two about the life of the gentlemen by taking on Clayton’s reference to Baldesar Castiglione’s Book of the Courtier. It was while speaking of Castiglione that our host shared this wonderful paraphrasing, “The definition of a gentleman is someone who derives no pleasure from seeing another creature suffer,”

My encounters with people of expansive minds remind me of just how small my own is, and yet, on many occasions, I’m well aware that I’m among other people with smaller minds than my own. While I’m not ashamed of how accidentally my life unfolds, I know that there has been much intentionality that has propelled Caroline and me into the myriad of adventures and experiences we’ve been so fortunate to encounter. It’s a good day when I see that there is still ample room for me to redouble my efforts. This has me wondering how those who never encounter others who could mentor them by exemplifying the more refined aspects of life have been so effective in allowing their languishing souls to disguise just how unrefined and vulgar they are. It is one thing to be born a Neanderthal but another to die as one without ever becoming aware of the knuckle-dragging existence we exhibited while wearing our best troglodytic personas.

Duncan, Arizona

Time to leave the peaceful air of the Simpson and venture into the blustering force of brisk wind where the sun might wash self-doubt from these burdened shoulders. Mind you, I’m well aware that life is good, and I’m genuinely encouraged that there always seems to be room for improvement. Walking is a good place to return to for the clearing of the mind and resolving some of the ambiguity, so out we go.

Duncan, Arizona

Tragically, my walking around town observing things suggests that maybe I’m on the verge of being cast off as junk like so many of these discarded artifacts that no longer hold utility. Well, in that case, I suppose that at least until nature reclaims those things that provoked these musings, my hulking form will have to strive harder to leave enough remnants on the intellectual landscape for people to walk by and maybe wonder what the mind of John did in the utility of others before his abandonment of life.

Duncan, Arizona

This old rusting school bus no longer brings children to school; its value is lost. Then again, when was the last time the name of Ibn al-Haytham and his seminal book Kitab al-Manazir came up regarding the discussion of light and vision? Even a contemporary great such as Professor Thomas G. Brown at the University of Rochester is not a name that falls from the tip of our tongues, and yet his work on cylindrical vector beams is undeniably important to our modern way of life. Just the other day, I was discussing with Caroline the metrology of photonic integrated circuits with an emphasis on measuring the in-situ polarization state within a silicon nitride waveguide, which is currently Professor Brown’s major area of interest when we realized that we cannot even count one other person we know interested in such subjects. What does this have to do with school buses cast off on the junk heap of former utility? Maybe nothing other than an idea that asks if it’s possible that all knowledge, pioneers, thinkers, artists, and musicians are ultimately nothing more than a bunch of junk nobody cares about if it doesn’t lend itself to immediate gratification led by foolish hedonism?

Duncan, Arizona

But what is this? A broken-down soda dispenser? Yes and no, you see in this image is the data of what it is, or was. At some point, its data will be eaten by Artificial Intelligence, and as pockets of our population fall into a dark age, the electronic brain will remember and understand what we are losing. Just consider that with the fall of Rome in the 5th century, the recipe for how they made such durable concrete was lost for the next 1,300 years; what are we on the verge of losing?

Take my example regarding Ibn al-Haytham and Professor Brown. It was in the 13th century, a little more than 150 years after Kitab al-Manazir (Book of Optics) was written, when Roger Bacon was inspired by this work to study optics and eyeballs, leading him to describe lenses that would correct our vision and create telescopes along with inventing the magnifying glass. About four-hundred fifty years later, Johannes Kepler, Isaac Newton, and Galileo Galilei would also find the work of Ibn al-Haytham instrumental to their discoveries. But what about Professor Brown’s relationship to all of this? There’s a likelihood that either his research or that of those he’s influenced is going to be integrated into optical computing, which is the future of that field. I used ChatGPT to explore these connections, and at some point, its algorithms will utilize over 1,000 years of research and development in optics to intuitively understand these connections in ways only those with very specialized knowledge can grasp. Meanwhile, we humans walk around obliviously looking at rusting junk and other trash, probably on the way to no longer having any value either.

Duncan, Arizona

None of us use payphones anymore; when will we forsake books, computers, and even conversations required for the exploration of knowledge? I grew up in an age where knowledge was secondary to the acquisition of stuff that embodied the American dream. Today, generations are growing up with nearly no idea at all of what role knowledge might play in their lives. They are uncertain about careers, financial opportunities, or having children. Our ambition to excel has been replaced with the ambiguity of not being able to figure out the nonsense, violence, and incoherence emanating out of previous generations, afraid of a future where thinking people might abandon accepted conventions of conformity that served a ruling elite.

Duncan, Arizona

Speaking of elites, the Charismatics were out in force this Sunday, though you wouldn’t have known it if you were listening for their shrieks. Only the mass of their cars indicated that they were congregating in the church/shed. While we were tempted to poke our heads in to watch and listen to them speaking in hands and laying on tongues, our wild imaginations suggested they would recognize us as outsider infidels and chase us with snakes to banish our evil presence. Our flight of fancy was probably far more entertaining than the creepy reality we’d have likely found in the First Baptist Church of Duncan. This photo is just an old house for sale, not the den of those “slain in the Spirit.”

Back at the Simpson, the clock is somehow off, showing us a time between. Just how long we had been out and wallowing in the destitution that is Duncan becomes the passage of unknowns. There is an inescapable sense of what was once out this way when people had hope and dreams but has been stolen by the relentless force of time going forward. Fleeting glimpses of renewed aspirations can be seen here and there, but something just as quickly began erasing those efforts. Futility creeps into the fool who believes that America can be renewed. The edges and outposts decay on a margin where the casual observer moving by in their car might hardly notice the scale of what is collapsing.

Huipile at Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona

The coherence of cloth impacts its utility. If, through defect or wear, the assemblage begins to fall apart, someone must mend the fabric, or the original intention of its creation will be lost, and the article can be disposed of or recycled. The coherence of people in relationship to the potential of available knowledge has traditionally been woven into a tapestry of greater meaning and utility, but at this juncture, we are coming apart at the seams and apparently have no one able to mend the decaying fabric of what we could be.

It is obvious to me that humanity requires the genius of the weavers and seamstresses of the past to design a new kind of cloth that better lays bare the arrogance of our stupidity. We’ve been using masks and cloaks in the form of accumulated things to hide the state of intellectual nakedness instead of facing the damage we inflict not only on our planet but upon one another, too. Just as we are evolving an artificial knowledge that will exceed everything that came before it, we are relinquishing our very humanity in support of unsustainable dreams that are grotesque folly.

Hedonism and Becoming

Sisyphus from Titian at The Prado, Madrid, Spain

At some point in a young adult’s life, motivation has to come from within, and a full break from parental authority has to be made. Those who cannot muster inner self-determination may turn to the military or look to college as the entity that will force them to do what they inherently know they need to do but for which they cannot seem to find the discipline. What they actually need is that parental voice that pushes them to follow a regimen. The problem is this young person is distracted by pleasure. Between gaming, vaping, social media, binge-watching series, sex, and hanging out, there is no reason to push one’s self away from self-indulgence. Pleasure is a powerful tool that often destroys a person’s will to move beyond 16 hours a day of self-destruction. This is hedonism, as defined by Merriam-Webster: the doctrine that pleasure or happiness is the sole or chief good in life.

How did we arrive at this malady called hedonism? We get there at a young age by growing up in a life made easy and struggle-free by parents who remove all obstacles and impediments. This leads to the conditioning at an early age that pleasure is easy to come by, which in turn gives rise to resentment when someone impinges on our sense of freedom as we mature, thus making it difficult to deal with anyone who places demands on us. In this situation, relationships work best when the other person understands they cannot negotiate or compromise with the hedonist, who is likely on their way to narcissism. The other way of arriving at hedonism is when our parents deny us everything, including love, which has us not only hating all forms of control but also ourselves and the outside world. In this case, we will have to work through the frustration, resentment, and anger at what we had to overcome to like ourselves. Sadly, without love, our path into hedonism is often paved with abuse, drugs, and alcohol because we feel entitled to experience pleasure after witnessing others seemingly basking in it so effortlessly. This situation often leads to prison, disfunction, military service, and personal isolation.

Ayn Rand wrote about hedonism: To take “whatever makes one happy” as a guide to action means: to be guided by nothing but one’s emotional whims. Emotions are not tools of cognition. This is the fallacy inherent in hedonism – in any variant of ethical hedonism, personal or social, individual or collective. “Happiness” can properly be the purpose of ethics, but not the standard. The task of ethics is to define man’s proper code of values and thus to give him the means of achieving happiness. To declare, as the ethical hedonists do, that “the proper value is whatever gives you pleasure” is to declare that “the proper value is whatever you happen to value” – which is an act of intellectual and philosophical abdication, an act which merely proclaims the futility of ethics and invites all men to play it deuces wild, meaning, anything goes.

What is cognition? From Wikipedia: The term cognition (Latin: cognoscere, “to know,” “to conceptualize,” or “to recognize”) refers to a faculty for the processing of information, applying knowledge, and changing preferences.

Motivation to broaden cognitive skills will come in fits and spurts as most humans have an innate desire to continue to learn, improve, explore, and generally better themselves. However, the desire for hedonism is easier satisfied with the convenience of mindless entertainment. No hard work, compromise, or sacrifice must be made for a minute of self-indulgence we can allow to stretch into hours. This is a great challenge for people in a society that has left them to fend for themselves without guidance. Worse, many people are taken advantage of by allusions to success to be found through giving of themselves to a system, be it the military or university. Both systems can be effective if the soldier or student can divorce themselves from their more primal desires and focus on what is trying to be accomplished. This doesn’t always work; look at military disciplinary actions, incarcerations, early exits, or college dropout rates.

Autodidact: a self-taught person. From Wikipedia: Self-teaching and self-directed learning are contemplative, absorptive processes. Some autodidacts spend a great deal of time in libraries or on educational websites. A person may become an autodidact at nearly any point in his or her life. While some may have been educated in a conventional manner in a particular field, they may choose to educate themselves in other, often unrelated areas. Autodidactism is only one facet of learning and is usually complemented by learning in formal and informal settings: classrooms, friends, family, and social settings. Many autodidacts, according to their plan for learning, seek instruction and guidance from experts, friends, teachers, parents, siblings, and the community. (Think Good Will Hunting)

Famous autodidacts: Leonardo da Vinci, John Stuart Mill, William Blake, HP Lovecraft, Herman Melville, George Bernard Shaw, Ernest Hemingway, Frank Zappa, Danny Elfman, Arnold Schoenberg, James Cameraon, Steven Spielberg, Quentin Tarantino, Stanley Kubrick, Woody Allen, Orson Welles, Dario Argento, Penn Jillette, David Bowie, Noel Gallagher, Frank Lloyd Wright, Gustave Eiffel, Le Corbusier, Michael Faraday, Karl Marx, Leibniz, Joseph Campbell, Buckminster Fuller, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Edison, Malcolm X, Abraham Lincoln, the Wright Brothers.

How does one go about the process of becoming learned? Either through the structure of the university or by recognizing and then acting in a concise and disciplined manner to organize a regimen of education that will deliver the results they are seeking. But there’s a conundrum here when the pull of intellectual laziness fuels drags the hedonist back to the realization that entertainment at all costs is delivering the greater payout by instant gratification. By neglecting discipline, we become our own worst enemy and it is this trait of discipline that the university or the military is trying to instill in the floundering person.

This should then have one ask, “What is it that I am seeking?” Does one want money, stability, or the further development of a skill set for a type of endeavor that satisfies something deeper? All three are tied inextricably to one another. If the answer to the question is amorphous, “I want to do something cool,” then the person probably doesn’t yet have any idea of what they actually want. This is common with people who want to extend an element out of their hedonistic behaviors, figuring that if they like to watch anime, they should enjoy creating animation, game players can make the assumption they would make great game developers, and people who like music might want to be a musician. The problem with all of these choices is that the person likely has no idea, during their young age, of what is involved with pursuing and then being successful in this idealized career, which requires a great amount of creativity and/or math and analytical skills. They fail to see the work involved with something they perceive to be an extension of play, and play rewards their sense of hedonism.

High school has not prepared the mind of the young adult to understand sacrifice and intellectual process. Formal early education has conditioned the young person to respond to a reward-based system where even a minor effort evokes praise and a payoff. A large part of that reward is to be able to explore hedonism (gaming, television, drinking, smoking, drugs, and sex) unsupervised. At this point, the still-developing mind begins to form the equation that a little bit of money and being left to one’s own choices allows prolonged hedonistic satisfaction with little effort made on the part of the individual – after all, isn’t this what the first 18 years just made this person an expert in?

Breaking out of this routine by oneself is difficult and rare, at best, impossible for many. The ability of the human mind to justify its poisons is now better trained than its ability to explain the differences between granular and sinusoidal harmonics, and yet it is typical that the young mind sees itself at the top of its game and in control of its destiny – those who do not comprehend these young adults’ inherent sophistication and super-enlightened view of the world, simply do not understand the current generation. This is an age-old phenomenon that has never held true. We are stupid about most things for the majority of our lives, though young adults don’t yet comprehend this fact.

Back to how one becomes learned. In the military, the first step is to limit the young person’s vices. Games, drugs, sex, and alcohol are immediately halted. All consumption is controlled. This allows the young person a break from the familiar routine where bad habits may be standing in the way of progress. Now, there is the opportunity to make room for new methods of behavior. Gradually, some of these things will be allowed to come back into a person’s life. Through now-understood commitments, the person must compartmentalize the windows of opportunity where these activities can take place. Likewise, in college, the competitive spirit of achievement is supposed to drive the young person to focus on competition and hopefully recognize that a drunk or stoned mind does not fully comprehend complexity; worse, they cannot intelligently compose an exposition detailing the lessons of what was to be learned. Those who cannot leave behind their hedonism and do not reconcile that computer games do not equate to finished homework or skill acquisition will drop out or be processed out.

Part of the evidence of out-of-control hedonistic behavior is demonstrated by people who believe it is okay to be high at work, to have a drink, to take something for free, or to skip work because the need to do something fun is more important. At this point, the person is conditioning themselves to a life of routine petty indulgences that will severely block progress going forward. The risk is to maintain a status quo and increase the likelihood that intellectual or career gains will not happen. The other side is that many will fall into a downward spiral of never being truly satisfied and will need to turn further and further into drug, alcohol, gaming, TV, or food abuse as the pacifier to alleviate the anguish of a mind watching itself waste away due to neglect.

So, as ugly an idea as it is – one must take a break from comfortable habits in order to make new ones. There must be a segregation of hedonistic times from cognitive exploration. One needs a schedule, a plan, and a calendar of events that must be adhered to. This isn’t about an all-or-nothing proposition; it is about developing the determination to understand that either you appreciate the seriousness of your efforts or accept that you only want to habituate play while telling others you’ll get serious as some future undefined date. This latter point is a capitulation and recognition that what you are currently cultivating will, in all likelihood, become the defining characteristic of your life, ultimately leading to failure and disappointment.

If you are willing (actually, I should say, able) to come to grips with this reality (thin chance as it is), you will have to conform to what would otherwise be ‘outside pressure’ – that must now come from within. And this must be done without cheating – in the military and university, there are serious consequences, and without those repercussions, it is far too easy to be dishonest and cheat. Until this is fully understood, you will not likely succeed in this effort to effectively begin the self-education process and ultimately will still need to reach out for paternal guidance from systems of authority – military, university, or legal.

Start writing: if you cannot compose two sentences that chronicle your day, how will you find an identity worth exploring in the future? You need to start practicing the art of telling a narrative so you might become so fortunate as to peel back the layers of your own intellectual evolution.

Start reading more: read what will channel new perceptions and interpretations of how the world and character of people are filtered. Try Your Inner Fish by Neil Shubin, Les Fleurs Du Mal by Charles Baudelaire, A People’s History of the US by Howard Zinn, The Scientist by John C. Lilly, Closing of the American Mind by Allan Bloom, Next of Kin by Roger Fouts, A History of Western Philosophy by Bertrand Russell, Great Plains by Ian Frazier, The Ecstasy of Communication by Baudrillard, Fire in the Mind by George Johnson, Fire in the Belly by Sam Keen, One-Dimensional Man by Marcuse, And: Phenomenology of the End by Berardi.

I used the image of Sisyphus and the rock he must bear for eternity as the burden of his hubris for denying his humanity and that we modern humans carry a similar cargo in the form of hedonism brought on by our desire for easy entertainment. We struggle with the futility of an exercise that denies our happiness, having lost the notion that exploration, wandering, and curiosity are the paths to our joy.

The image accompanying this post is titled Sisyphus, painted by Titian and on display at The Prado Museum in Madrid. This file has been identified as being free of known restrictions under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights.

Miracle Valley Bible Church

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

On our visit to southern Arizona the other weekend, I was reminded of a previous visit when we passed by the Miracle Valley Bible Church (MVBC) and realized that I had not shared my photos from inside the abandoned buildings. On a day back in May 2019, when I was exploring the area by myself (while Caroline was attending a fiber event in nearby Bisbee), the gate to the property was open, so I casually walked up the driveway. Spotting someone, I continued towards him, apologizing if I were, in fact, trespassing. He assured me that I was okay and welcomed me. I no longer remember his name, nor can I find any notes, if indeed I even wrote any.

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

Before venturing out onto the property, I was told some of the history of the Tabernacle and the story of AA Allen (the initials stand for Asa Alonso). What I didn’t hear about on that day was the shootout with law enforcement back in 1982 or that AA died from alcohol poisoning. The irony is not lost on me.

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

In its heyday, the bible church, various buildings, and an airstrip sat on over 2,500 acres and catered to those believing in faith healing. After Allen’s death in 1970, Minister Don Stewart assumed the operational role of leading the MVBC, which seems to have been a kind of non-starter. Who did gain traction in the area was Pastor Frances Thomas, who wanted to purchase the property but was denied, so she picked up land across the street and, with members of the MVBC congregation, formed the Christ Miracle Healing Center and Church (CMHCC).

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

Allegedly, she had ideas of making the work of Jim Jones look like child’s play, though obviously (and thankfully) that never came to fruition, though a (relatively minor) shootout did occur. Regarding the hysteria around this incident at the time, it should be pointed out that the CMHCC was an all-black congregation, and anyone living in Arizona back in those days knows the kind of racism that was alive and well in this state.

While I was visiting the site, I was amazed that a mural that was now well over 50 years old had never been vandalized. The painting was created by Alfred Gerstmayr.

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

There’s the mural with AA Allen front and center.

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

AA Allen is buried out here. I wonder what a grave on the property means for a future owner.

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

On the day of the shootout between the sheriff’s department and members of CMHCC, Frances Thomas’s son William was one of several people who died or were wounded.

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

True, none of these buildings or anything on this side of the street had anything really to do with the shootout other than the unfortunate naming of the incident as the Miracle Valley Shootout.

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

Don Stewart is still alive and well, apparently living in Paradise Valley, Arizona, in a multi-million dollar home because faith healing and speaking in tongues pay well, which also works for his son. If you want to see something crazy, watch one of the videos on YouTube of events where they’ve allowed themselves to be recorded for posterity, demonstrating their madness.

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

I’m tempted to be envious of those who are able to goad the less fortunate, i.e., mentally off-base, into giving whatever money they have to wealthy scammers who gladly take their earnings for their own benefit. Those downtrodden, hurt people looking for miracles because they have nothing else to believe in are being victimized, but with the United States protecting religious rights, people are free to be fleeced by shysters every day of the week. The tax-exempt status of these religious entities enables these “clerics” to pocket their wealth and, in the case of Don Stewart, put expensive homes in the name of the church to better protect the impression of nefarious ill-gotten gains at the expense of the less fortunate. I guess this is the real benefit of near-absolute freedom: we are free to be as stupid and greedy as we choose.

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

As for Frances Thomas, she died in 1995 after relocating to Chicago.

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

I understand that many attempts have been made to rehabilitate the site, but all efforts have failed so far.

John Wise at Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

There is something creepy about the place, not only because it’s now in ruin but also because of the whole cult-like atmosphere that surrounds the history of the religious zealots that descended upon this remote desert outpost.

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

One really has to wonder if this message hasn’t been here forever because if someone got in to leave this message, why is that old mural untouched?

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

I only wish that someone else had photographed the grounds and buildings just a couple of years after everything was mostly abandoned so we could see the rate of decay and what else was still here after everyone evacuated the property.

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

I’m also left wondering if AA Allen once lived in one of these rooms or was the private airstrip on their 2,500 acres used to whisk him away to other healing engagements to channel Jesus through himself to cure the sick.

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

Today, I’m asking myself why I didn’t take the whisk or coffee cup, so I’d have a creepy bit of nostalgia here at home.

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

If Caroline had been with me on this day, I do believe there’s a good chance we would have sat down on this loveseat and figured out a way to take a photo of us on this molding old relic. As a matter of fact, when we drove by on our trip in 2023, had the gate been open or had I spotted someone out walking the land, I would have certainly loved to pay another visit.

Miracle Valley Bible Church near Hereford, Arizona

So, this was it, the nearly lost images from my visit to the Miracle Valley Bible Church back in 2019.