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.

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.

A Year of Travel – A Lifetime of Travel

Caroline Wise in the surf in Santa Monica, California

Back in the first week of January 2022, while others shivered under the chill of winter and probably snow, Caroline and I were over in Pacific Palisades, California, visiting the Getty Museum before also spending time at the Armand Hammer Museum, a botanical garden, the La Brea Tarpits, Little Tehran for Persian lunch and ice cream, and the San Pedro Fish Market at the Port of Los Angeles being serenaded by an Elvis impersonator.

Caroline Wise at Teakettle Junction on the Road to Racetrack Playa in Death Valley National Park, California

Still early in 2022, just two weeks later, we made yet another trip into Death Valley, except this one was taking the proverbial road less traveled. We’d booked an excursion out past Teakettle Junction to Racetrack Playa, something we’d wanted to do for decades. Don’t think for one moment we skipped the hot spring in Shoshone outside the park or communing with the wild donkeys of Beatty, Nevada.

Caroline Wise at the Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

By February, with the weather on our side here in the desert southwest, we ventured up to the Grand Canyon. Hardly our first time here, and maybe the total number of visits is now unknowable, but this place is not something you know, even after your first dozen travels here.

Gadsden Hotel in Douglas, Arizona

In the golden age of travel, the average person out on the roads could know opulence as there was a time when presentation was an important aspect of knowing that your evening and morning times were as significant as the moments between. And then travel became a utility of capitalism, and what you do aside from handing some cash to those who offer a functional option to move and house you no longer mattered. — Our hotel on the Mexico-Arizona border in Douglas on a wonderful February weekend.

Weaver Maruch Sanchez de la Cruz in Zinacantan, Mexico

I could lament that March only saw us on vacation one time, but we were out for nearly a dozen days in Mexico, most of that down south in Chiapas, visiting Mayan fiber artists. Choosing this one image to represent 11 days immersed in Mexican culture out of a million impressions and thousands of photos was difficult, but isn’t that indicative of even trying to figure out where we’re going when a million options exist drawn from the billions of impressions we collect over our lives. — Mayan weaver in southern Mexico.

On AZ-86 west of Tucson, Arizona

Even when you must travel in the dark with uncertainty about what lies ahead, there can be astonishing moments of beauty surrounding your experience, but if you never get out, how will you know that just beyond the limits of what you think you know, there are these places you never dreamed of? — On the way to Ajo, Arizona, in April.

LACMA - Los Angeles County Museum of Art in Southern California

Art needs to reflect society, a cultural moment in time; it should express something about who we are. We who are not creators should then invest moments to see what we cannot and visit a museum where those who care have taken time to create impressions of the zeitgeist. — April trip to Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

Fairyland Trail in Bryce Canyon National Park in Utah

The exposed earth created by nature shows us the zeitgeist of time we didn’t live in. While museums and images over the internet and television might be easier to have firsthand experiences with, everyone with the means should venture into the parts of nature that can show them something about the history that existed long before people ever appeared on this planet. — It’s still April when we took this hike in Bryce National Park, Utah.

Total Lunar Eclipse producing a "Blood Moon" as seen from Fountain Hills, Arizona

On our return from the Zuni lands of New Mexico in early May, let’s just say we were kind of on the moon.

Sunrise in Monument Valley Arizona

After sunrise in Monument Valley, we left the well-traveled path for a rare visit to the nearby Mystery Valley. And that was our travels for the month of May.

Caroline Wise at the Arboretum in Flagstaff, Arizona

June didn’t go according to plan. We were supposed to be on a train from Winslow to Las Vegas, the one over in New Mexico, but Amtrak proved too unreliable for our schedule, and so instead, we licked our wounds at our poor investment and, for a consolation prize, seized on the opportunity to visit the Flagstaff Arboretum to smell the ponderosa pines, and sure enough, they smell something like a cross between vanilla and butterscotch. It wouldn’t be until the end of June that we’d head out again, but that will count towards July.

Caroline Wise on Utah State Road 35 southeast of Kamas, Utah

Happy 4th of July from somewhere in the middle of Utah.

Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, New Mexico

We weren’t done with July, though; a call came in asking my wife to spend all of our money at the Santa Fe Folk Art Market, which we happily obliged as it was years of desire that would be quenched by finally visiting. There was the added benefit of hikes in the area, some of that famous New Mexican cuisine, and, of course, a visit to Meow Wolf that was enchanting as this photo is candy coated with almost neon colors.

Sedona, Arizona

August was a mixed bag as a bunionectomy for Caroline altered what could be done. There’d be no long walks and it turned out no long drives. Though we enjoyed a day out in Sedona, Oak Creek Canyon, and Flagstaff, the start of the school season at NAU put a premium on lodging we weren’t going to indulge in. Then, on another day, the road we were traveling was covered in mud due to recent heavy rains associated with our monsoon season, and instead of trying to find a detour, we went for lunch and called it quits. Knowing what awaited us in just a few days, we weren’t feeling cheated.

Pacific Grove, California

It’s September, and we are obviously at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Okay, we were on our way to breakfast before heading over to commune with the fishies, Caroline with her new spirit animal, the hagfish, and me with the always mesmerizing cuttlefish with their eyes that reflect the universe.

Great Basin National Park in Nevada

We weren’t done with September yet as we needed to pay a new visit to the Great Basin National Park in Nevada to see if the bristle cone pine trees appeared to have aged. I guess after standing here for some 4,000 years, a decade or so wouldn’t make an appreciable difference, well, not to us, anyway. By now, I have to admit to some travel fatigue as we’ve been away from home for 66 days, and we still have 3 or 5 more trips ahead of us.

Near Lees Ferry on the Colorado River above the Grand Canyon, Arizona

Wow, were we really home for more than two full weeks? You betcha, but here in the middle of October, we finally broke out of being couch potatoes, though we don’t own a couch, and pointed our car north. Grand Canyon North Rim, here we come. First up, we had some hiking to do, and we did it all, I do mean all of it. The morning started out up near Lees Ferry for a hike up over the Colorado River; for lunch we hiked up the Paria River into its canyon, not far but far enough. Next up was Soap Creek Canyon, where we went to where we could go no further. Time to check out some condors about to be released in the wild before finally taking ourselves to the Grand Canyon for its last night of business before closing for the season.

The art of Don Carlos at the Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona

We don’t celebrate Halloween, but we do believe in treating ourselves, and so it was when we drove east to Duncan, Arizona, for a weekend at the Simpson Hotel, visiting with the proprietors we’ve become friendly with. By this time, we know that Caroline will be in for another bunionectomy, but this time on the other foot. This means that this trip coming up in November will be the last for the year.

Caroline Wise at Thor's Well at Cape Perpetua Scenic Area in Yachats, Oregon

Here we are at the 19th and final trip of 2022. Twelve days on the Oregon coast is about as good as it gets unless you consider any of the other 18 trips this year, which were all spectacular, too.

It would be obvious to most anyone seeing this post: we enjoy our travels. They might also think we have extraordinary access to financial resources. I’ve not worked in 5 years while Caroline works as a database programmer for a small company that allows her to take 20 days of paid vacation. Living frugally offers us a wealth of opportunities that we choose to use in ways that speak to our sense of gathering big impressions and a ton of memories that should last a lifetime.

Our discipline of only using what we need has allowed the two of us not just these 19 adventures over the course of a single year but 302 others since the beginning of the year 2000. Over the course of the intervening 22 years, we’ve ventured away from home for a total of 1,371 days, averaging about 13 getaways per year. That’s close to 60 days per year of what we consider vacation time, though much of it might just be a long weekend and, on occasion, a day trip, even if it’s all the way to Los Angeles and back to Phoenix in a day, in a car at that! I only know these numbers right now because I’ve just finished a complete index listing of our travels featured in the right column of this blog. There are still photos missing as I’ve not always taken my blogging responsibilities as diligently as I should have, but where I have them, they will be added.

There is no encore to this type of indulgence; there is only the continuation of trying to accumulate the experiences we believe lend a sense of the extraordinary to our lives and shared time.

Regarding 2023? Of course, there are some tentative things on the itinerary, actually a lengthy spreadsheet because who could keep track of all these details that will be worked on in the new year? The following is under consideration with a couple of things already firm: Europe, New York City, Chicago, Craters of the Moon in Idaho, Kartchner Caverns, back to Santa Fe and the Folk Art Market, and likely another Thanksgiving visit to delightful Oregon. Obviously, that’s simply not enough for us to consider ourselves human, and other travels will have to fall into our plans as long as we’re capable, healthy, and in love.

Update: It’s December 20, 2023; when I dipped back into this post and reread my predictions for the year that’s been, I thought an update was in order. We never made it to New York City, Chicago, Craters of the Moon, or Oregon, but we did spend nearly a month in Europe with our first visits to Norway and Sweden in addition to returns to Germany and Denmark. Kartchner Caverns and the Santa Fe Folk Art Market were also enjoyed. A trip to Southern Arizona saw us visiting Coronado National Memorial and a bunch of snakes, while in April, following my birthday, we did some serious hiking in Death Valley. Up on the Navajo Reservation in June, we visited the Sheep is Life festival, and in July, we enjoyed a day trip to Kaka, Arizona, followed two weeks later with a tour of the Mount Graham International Observatory. Our last trip of the year will be for New Year’s over in Duncan, Arizona, for some hopeful Sandhill Crane viewing.

Focus

Thorns and flowers

What do we choose to focus on, and what impact does that have on our daily lives? For a month and a half, which includes the time from mid-November until the end of that month when we were on vacation in Oregon through the entirety of December, when I was preparing the lengthy blog posts that I shared here, my focus was on the details that surrounded that trip. Along the way, I learned more about the geology of the coast, the fungi, the sea life that calls the shore home, and a few lessons about perspective. Each day while traveling, my sense of happiness in spending time with my best friend was reinforced, and afterward, on each day prepping photos or writing I bumped into impressions of her that often had me smiling at my computer screen. Mind you, this was but one trip of the 19 that we took during 2022.

Now consider those whose gaze is attached to routines that only rarely waver. Sure, many are drawn into the experience of travel when so fortunate to be able to indulge in those pastimes, but it is what we do outside of those kinds of singularities that also matter. Are you dreaming of what’s next and celebrating what has been or are you bored with the same old stuff you’ll wallow in this evening and dreading the approach of bills you’d rather avoid?

When jobs and routines define much of who we are, where do we turn to force a perspective shift? What do we give up, alter, or intentionally move in order to discover something about ourselves with a mindset ripe for a break from our fixed ideologies and expectations? Is such a process even possible?

In a recent blog entry titled Stages, I posted a list of my interests over time, roughly grouped by age. Some things remain ever-present over the course of my life but they’ve been evolving while others were discarded. Looking at that list while writing this now, I am wondering what the main constants were that stayed with me and grew; I added those at the bottom of that post. Not that I want to refer you to that entry, but it was an exercise for me to think out loud that much has come and gone in my life, and while the decision to abandon something is not always a conscious one, it’s possible to leave parts of ourselves behind. I don’t know if leaving something is really an intentional act or just something that is bound to happen when we bring in new stimuli and grow beyond the utility of what something else had once offered us.

This, then, would appear to be the formula for change: always be open to bringing in new information, experiences, and challenges. Each time you alter a pattern, there’s a ripple into your past that allows you to understand that you are moving beyond that part of you that once served a purpose. We intuitively know this when it comes to playing with toys at 30 years of age it might be awkward to take a date to our place to play with dolls and model cars, though that might be cute the first time. And yet, this is exactly what we do when it comes to many of the activities and interests we gathered from the age of 15 to 30 years old. Just consider how many people still watch the same sports teams, listen to the same music, or watch their favorite teen movies well into adulthood. I get it; there’s room for nostalgia, but what I’m describing are those on a treadmill of life repetition.

We must, at times, take inventory of our progress, or lack of it, and foment a personal revolution that questions why we are on a trajectory that likely stalled out. It is the job of capitalism to blind us or at least take away the focus of seeing ourselves clearly enough to desire change. As creatures who tend to develop repetitious behaviors, we become beholden to those who parse out happiness through consumption, but this is not a path to real happiness. To paraphrase German philosopher Walter Benjamin, self-revolution is the emergency brake saving ourselves from cultural self-immolation brought on by capitalism.