Transition Zone

Motel 6 in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Nope, not today! We will try our best to offer assistance to the person being human trafficked while we turn a collective blind eye to the masses who are being intellectually trafficked by their lack of meaningful education and addiction to a way of life that keeps the average person nearly in chains of enslavement. These distractions, including news of child abductions, demon possession, drugs in our schools, and mayhem over our borders, are diversions created by marketing geniuses and are designed to lift the burden from individuals to learn, find truths, and consider their options when economic survival priorities dictate the direction and stress people must endure.

At any given moment, there are 580,000 up to 1.5 million people who are homeless, another 325,000 in transitional housing and homeless shelters, and an unknown number of people living in cars. We’re looking at over 1,000,000 Americans facing the grimmest living situations every day, but it was the 2,198 people referred to our justice system for human trafficking offenses that rose to the national stage. The feel-good insipidness that absolves us of real concern for anything is a great indicator of our obsession with the superficial appearance of things. The contradictions that occupy minds with rage is a national disgrace where, on one hand, people are indignant and angry at the government because every day they see the effects of what homelessness means to their community while human trafficking is an invisible crime, and if the government says the situation is improving we have no way of qualifying that. The dichotomy driven by the government that, on one hand, they seem to be doing something and, on the other, appear helpless on big issues helps maintain friction between hope and despair, vacillating in all directions and tearing at the fabric of society. And this is what I had to wake up to this morning instead of being allowed to remain on vacation.

New Mexico

Fortunately for me, the cliffs haven’t yet hoisted neon signs that alert passersby that the weather and erosion have stolen parts of them to traffic the grains to beaches in order for people to luxuriate on the rock-based carcasses carried away by the wind and rain.

Dead animal in New Mexico

Meanwhile, the scavengers of rotting flesh collect their free meal with no judgment as to whether they are stealing. Later, they will return to their trees squatting homelessly while letting their excrement soil our earth below, and while we’re at it, what’s up with treating human fetuses as fully-fledged people and calling abortion murder while those who use their cars to murder these animals are allowed to live free? Is life sacred, or only our own selfish view of what we want to claim is precious is embued with value? Yeah, I know this conversation is absurd, but that’s the point. Most everything is absurd, but we insist the inanities of it all have value, and so we take stupid shit seriously and ignore serious shit because we feel helpless, like a poor animal trying to cross the road, hoping not to be plowed down.

Abandoned gas station in New Mexico

Whoa, what happened to happy observations found on vacation? Look at your decay, America: you are dying but can’t see the rot all around you. If you are even slightly aware, you believe it is somehow the fault of a single individual or party in Washington D.C., but it is the neglect of your own internal (non-existent) dialog where you would ask yourself, what is your own contribution to the culture of not caring? This old gas station and the cafe next door did not close because of Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, or Donald Trump. It’s gone because you hate venturing out into your own country unless some level of generic conformist posturing opportunity is on offer, and you’ll gain credibility with your peers for being so fortunate to visit such an in-place that Instagram made popular. Meanwhile, I’ll tourist the corpse of your recent past and grieve your inability to celebrate the fine qualities and unique character of a land that was once held in reverence for the experiences it shared with those willing to traverse its vast spectacle of beauty. Today, we worship at the feet of grotesque wealth while things are supposed to bring us into self-realized entities on the verge of enlightenment, which will never be found in objects or trendy hangouts.

Carlos Guerrero at a Colorado State Line

Alrighty then, I need to leave New Mexico, leave the lament, and move onto new horizons as Carlos and I cross the Colorado State Line into the wintery environment found in the mountains.

Carlos Guerrero at a Colorado State Line

And what’s better upon visiting a new state than dropping into the snow and making a snow angel? We were halfway back to the car when Carlos realized he no longer knew where his phone was. To share with you that I was happy he realized it when he did would be an understatement.

Carlos Guerrero in Colorado

No worries, Carlos, I’ll go back to the gas station and grab a cup of hot coffee to help melt your connection to the folly of having to test your need for certain knowledge.

Snowy Colorado

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forest. When traversing places with someone of unknown quantities, we can lose the ability to read what the eyes are trying to take in as the chatter in our head overwhelms the visual aesthetic, and our inner voice distracts us from deciphering what the gap in communication is whispering at us. It is a distraction, preventing me from gazing as deeply as I might when traveling with Caroline because an inexplicable connectivity creates a symbiosis of sorts, linking the two of us while a telepathic language seems to be blurting out “wow” over and over again. Carlos, on the other hand, is elsewhere, in a place I cannot easily decipher, possibly overwhelmed, underwhelmed, or maybe nowhere. In any case, I find it difficult to understand his version of quiet.

Durango Silverton Train Station in Durango, Colorado

Trains take people places, cars, and bicycles too. When people lead the way, however, the journey is directed by the whims, curiosities, and knowledge of the guide. Giving over the itinerary to someone else absolves one from having to make the important decision regarding the destination. In this case, the journey is a constantly evolving series of impressions without end. We are taking a pause in Durango, Colorado, with my intention of sharing as much about the old steam trains that run through here as possible.

Carlos Guerrero at Durango Silverton Train Station in Durango, Colorado

The last train of the day had already pulled into the station, and tomorrow, we’ll be gone before the first one leaves Durango for its journey to Silverton, so the museum would have to suffice for this brief intro. Fortunately, Jake, the train enthusiast, was at the helm and offered Carlos and me an immersive deep dive into all things regarding the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad, along with his dreams of spending a lifetime exploring trains around the world.

Durango Silverton Train Station in Durango, Colorado

With the whole operation about to shut down for the evening, we were able to gather a better sense of the history without the flighty crowds of cackling tourists. For a moment, it was just your average train station from 100 years ago servicing an outpost at the end of the track in the old west, and it was all ours.

Durango Silverton Train Station in Durango, Colorado

Growing up in places where seemingly everyone lived makes for a stark contrast to what I most love in places at this stage in my life: there should be only a few to no people. A train going to unknown places with no one else aboard, trundling over an infinite landscape day after day with nary a stop, offering an uninterrupted opportunity to read, write, think, and drift into nothing, is the description of a vacation I’d sign up for.

General Palmer Hotel in Durango, Colorado

So, this is how the other half lives? Our more typical accommodations do not feature a lobby, a library, or afternoon coffee and cookies. This is the General Palmer Hotel next door to the Durango & Silverton train station, and it has serious amenities. The deal wasn’t great, but it wasn’t horrible either, so I thought, let’s splurge and bring Carlos into some old-west luxury. Later in the evening, he spent a solid two hours down here reading and writing in the parlor that was his alone.

General Palmer Hotel in Durango, Colorado

The General Palmer was built in 1898 and has some real character compared to the formulaic franchise hotels that have become so popular. The crazy thing about this is that I can book a room for Caroline and me at the 900-year-old (Zum Roten Bären) Red Bear Hotel in Freiburg, Germany, for a cheaper rate (in season even) than this midweek winter rate in the southwest corner of Colorado. I know this is an old song here on my blog, but I feel like I can’t say it enough: America is moving further away from being an egalitarian society in the relative blink of an eye. Years ago, Caroline and I could move around the United States rather inexpensively, but those deals were more and more difficult to find. Sadly, I have to be the first to admit that the lower the socioeconomic status of my fellow travelers, the likelihood of wanting to be in their presence is greatly diminished as the poor are becoming increasingly belligerent, loud, and vulgar. While I didn’t share it following our night in Socorro, New Mexico, the cheap motel we checked into had a drunken party of linemen wrestling and acting the fools in the parking lot. Yeah, I know they were just blowing off steam from some days of hard work after getting paid, and they were hardly a major annoyance, but in general, the type of person booking those lower-end accommodations are no longer young families but the Andrew-Tate-type animals cultivating their inner troglodytes. The implications mean we have to isolate ourselves in progressively more expensive lodgings with a gentrified clientele.

Durango, Colorado

Maybe the sun is not only setting on the day but also setting on me. Was I really so undiscerning 10 and 15 years ago? Have I become more aware of noise when I still remember many a room we’ve left due to shenanigans in a nearby room or the utter depravity of what we checked into without first examining the room? Is this the grump of the old man? Well, at least the sunset found in the sky is still beautiful, while our dinner at Himalayan Kitchen was yummy perfection.

Gianni Coria featured at The Gallery in Durango, Colorado

A walk down Main Street was necessary if I was going to get to my desired step count, and who wants to pop back into a hotel too early? As Carlos went his way, I needed to fetch my fleece as the absence of the sun brought on a chill. Aside from Maria’s Bookshop, where I picked up a copy of Otherlands: A Journey Through Earth’s Extinct Worlds by Thomas Halliday, there wasn’t a lot more on Main Street that interested me until I arrived at The Gallery. Trying to offer you more info on this little treasure has proven impossible as there is nearly no information on the internet regarding it, even being in Durango.

Gianni Coria featured at The Gallery in Durango, Colorado

The pieces I’m sharing are from Gianni Coria and I only know this due to the tiny amount of data I did find on the interwebs. In the shop itself, there was nobody to be found. Had I been a climate activist intent on gluing my hands to a piece, there was little anyone monitoring the cameras in the gallery could do as I could have splashed Gorilla Glue all over my naked body and attached myself to one of these four-foot-tall pieces. Next, you might ask, what was I doing naked in this gallery after I just shared that I grabbed my fleece, and just what is gluing myself to a piece of art when nobody is around to witness it going to accomplish in my fight for climate change awareness? Come on, think about the headline, “Naked Arizona man found cold and hungry and glued to a painting in Durango gallery claims he doesn’t know how he got there.”

Shifting Palette

Socorro, New Mexico

The odd pairing of the 20-year-old and the man with some seriously gray hair continues as we’re about to surpass 24 hours of these two guys traveling to places familiar to one and relatively unknown to the other. We woke in Socorro, and I got to learn how Carlos is a true lover of sleep and wakes only reluctantly. No matter, we were quickly gone and traveling south, though there was a good chance we’d not find what I was hoping for.

Bosque Del Apache in Socorro, New Mexico

People traveling ready to accept that they might not arrive at their expectations are already winning because they know that no matter what is there or not there, they can simply be excited about being there. We have arrived in the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge that hugs the Rio Grande, and while beauty is obviously on hand, the hoped-for large flocks of wintering birds have already fled the coop.

Bosque Del Apache in Socorro, New Mexico

Before reaching a herd of maybe ten deer, we’d seen an eagle, an owl, a couple of hawks, a lot of ducks, and various other birds, but even with my zoom lens, there was no capturing of a worthy photo of any of them.

Bosque Del Apache in Socorro, New Mexico

The main pond is quiet while I try to describe to Carlos what a November day looks like out here when 10’s of thousands of birds are still on the water just before the sun pokes over the horizon.

Bosque Del Apache in Socorro, New Mexico

A small handful of Canadian geese were present; they flew in but weren’t here for long. The snow geese and sandhill cranes apparently just left in the past couple of weeks, according to a local who’s out here frequently. The season is over, and with such low numbers of birds, we skip the south pond and begin our trek north to Santa Fe, New Mexico, after we dip into Sofia’s Kitchen & Burrito Tyme only because El Camino is closed. Breakfast is decent in this little diner, and should you dare try the Two Smothered Breakfast Burritos plate, be prepared and carry a big appetite with you or know that you are leaving with lunch.

Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Meow Wolf’s House of Eternal Return in Santa Fe is the sole reason I’ve brought Carlos to this city. We’ll spend hours here.

Carlos Guerrero at Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, New Mexico

The curse of foreknowledge was playing its hand here as I struggled not to say a word or offer guidance about which way to travel this maze buried in the carcass of an old bowling alley. Carlos would be left to lead the way and discover the 70-odd rooms that exist here.

Carlos Guerrero at Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, New Mexico

I recommended that he try to leave the camera alone so he might better fall into immersion within the House of Eternal Return. Do not be distracted by documenting your experience; try to dedicate every bit of attention to the ornate and intricate world that’s been crafted here, and I’ll try to provide some worthy memories that will travel with you into your future. This advice might seem to contradict my constant refrain of being a proponent of documenting one’s life, but on occasion, we must allow our senses to be fully captivated.

Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, New Mexico

“What are you willing to risk?” This might be the question Carlos is working on within his head as he explores a wider universe where everything from everywhere is meeting all at once at the crossroads of his imagination and curiosity.

John Wise at Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Hello, I’m John Wise, your personal guide and knowledgable emissary on this adventure into places unknown. Without the use of drugs, magic, or hyperbole, we will explore the boundaries of potential boredom with the occasional glimpse into the extraordinary, but to get there, we will have to traverse the edge of space and time. Fortunately, for the experienced host, these feats are easily played and delivered because, with 45 years of contemplative thinking and vast amounts of firsthand know-how regarding delving within one’s self, you will effectively be guiding yourself deeper within. From here out I will no longer be known as King Caca Fuego but will go by Captain Potentiator.

Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Carlos has suited up for his deep dive to continue his laborious journey to discover just who he is and exactly where he’s going.

Carlos Guerrero at Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Praying to the Yeti God proved a non-starter, but it did tell Carlos of the Central Brain of Meow Wolf that would be found in communing with the all-seeing eye powered by the magic rat.

Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Carlos, have you been able to connect? The wavelength is not always easy to unite with; yes, the struggle is real, but where the will paves the way, you will find the enlightenment you are seeking.

Carlos Guerrero at Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, New Mexico

“John, is this the cave Socrates spoke of?” No, Carlos, but all the same, don’t look too deeply into the shadows whose siren song will seduce you into taking up residence on that couch from which you may never escape. Remember, always keep moving.

Carlos Guerrero at Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, New Mexico

These iterations are the metaphors for the transitions, stages, and spaces you will inhabit in the coming years. The lesson is to embrace the peculiarities, go with the flow, kick back, and enjoy the ride.

Carlos Guerrero at Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Is that enlightenment down there?

Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, New Mexico

The partial mask appearing as a silhouetted face is, in actuality, a portal to another dimension through the interior of the fluorescent green half-human/half-alien skull. This secret artifact that was loaned to the creators of Meow Wolf is the reason the old bowling alley is called House of Eternal Return. When one travels into the light, time will cease being linear as you spread out in all directions, connecting with the quantum everywhereness of being. Be careful, though: should you crawl through this membrane intellectually unprepared, you will be simultaneously booted right back, unaware that you’d gone anywhere. The prepared mind is a tricky thing to cultivate; it requires a discipline the universe favors. Most are doomed to look upon all they consider to be reality and never once understand that their myopia is like kryptonite to awareness. Should you find passage into this kind of tractor beam of potential enlightenment, though, you will be slung into contact with the great intelligence before returning to this house, where you may always return to find the unknown.

Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, New Mexico

These are just pretty pulsing lights with a bunch of knitted stuff trying to trick people into thinking this is the secret portal to other dimensions.

Carlos Guerrero at Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, New Mexico

It was at this moment that Carlos realized that the version of himself looking back at himself was in fact, having an expression on his face that was not the expression Carlos was currently making. Quantum-Carlos was signaling earthbound-Carlos to wake up, find the intentionality he knows he’s only now starting to harness, and get busy knowing himself.

Santa Fe, New Mexico

And then we headed into old town Santa Fe, where Carlos picked up a few books, took some photos, and we walked across town to get dinner because that was all that was left to do with this day. Well that and go to sleep.

Changing Perspectives

Carlos Guerrero and John Wise leaving Arizona

These strange fellows are about to cross a vast delta of time between them as this 20-year-old guy and a nearly 60-year-old man leave Phoenix, Arizona, on a road trip that will be all about getting out of routine and expectations. Curiosity is the bridge that connects Carlos and me. When I first spoke with him, he was carrying a copy of Les Fleurs du Mal (The Flowers of Evil) by Charles Baudelaire that I’d read around the time I was his age. This commonality opened a door, and soon we were talking about literature, philosophy, and art. After some months of the occasional chat during his breaks at Starbucks or even while on shift, he quit to take another job, and I was certain our connection would be lost.

Highway 60 in Arizona

As Carlos was about to move on down the proverbial road, he asked for my number which I thought was quaint though a bit silly because we live in America, disconnected, not just from one another but from ourselves. I entertained him by giving him my number and wished him good luck. Obviously, he reached out, which I found peculiar considering I’m three times his age, which would imply a chasm of cultural distance between us. Ah, this must be a one-time anomaly to satisfy his curiosity about cameras (he had spoken about his interest in photography before). When we met, he asked about must-visit places in Los Angeles and enquired about a restaurant recommendation in Phoenix where he might try something out of the ordinary. I sent him to a local Peruvian restaurant, told him of Kinokuniya bookstore in Little Tokyo over in L.A., and suggested he temper his expectations of what he thinks he needs regarding camera gear until he knows if he has a real interest or if it’s a passing fancy.

Carlos Guerrero off Highway 60 in Arizona

After a few of these kinds of meetings, I gave Carlos an old Canon camera body I knew I would never use again and lent him a lens for him to try his hand at capturing his world. Over some weeks, I’d swap out lenses with him so he could experiment with different perspectives. We talked of possibly heading out for a day of photography, maybe even a weekend in Los Angeles. A week or maybe two would pass before I got another text message asking if we could meet up as he had questions about something or other. This continued until a little more than a week ago when he asked if my offer to travel was still open. Five consecutive days had opened up in his work schedule, but I had to let him know that there was no way I was going to L.A. for that period of time: I’d lose my mind – those days in Southern California with the traffic I’ve grown to abhor would pummel me. However, I told him if he were open to somewhere random, we might be able to work something out. His answer surprised me; it was a simple and concise “sure!”

Little Colorado River near Springerville, Arizona

Here we are on the first day of that five-day outing, hoping we might fall into some flow or else we’ll be doomed to end this expedition shortly after its beginning. This inkling of doubt nagged at the back of my head because how in god’s green earth (black & white in this instance) would a 20-year-old deal with hanging out with a potentially grumpy old man stricken with ugly fixed habits and a general intolerance for bullshit? On the other hand, how would I deal with an impatient and possibly petulant young man I only knew from brief encounters at a nearby Starbucks? About the path we’re taking, it was just a dozen hours prior to our departure that I fixed on one of two potential directions: north or east. We are heading east, and at this juncture in our trip, we are crossing the Little Colorado River near Springerville, Arizona, on U.S. Highway 60.

Near Springerville, Arizona

How appropriate, a young buck in nature and a young buck in my car venturing into nature. This deer is looking over his harem, which is off to the right and out of view in this photo; I have no way of knowing what he’s thinking. In one of the images above this, Carlos is walking through tall grass; it was here that he shared his first epiphany of sorts with me: he was struck by the rolling hills, the winds driving the grasses in patterns reflective of the air currents, and how far the horizon stretching beyond his purview. He voiced his wish that he could see what was beyond the hilltops, so I pulled over to a gate without a “No Trespassing” sign, and off he went to the other side. When he returned from looking into the mystery, he expressed a sense of awe. Maybe this guy won’t annoy me into taking him home as soon as tomorrow morning, after all.

Carlos Guerrero at the New Mexico State Line

With his display of potential, we entered into another state, quite literally. Carlos was about to visit New Mexico for the first time and put on a face of excitement. I guess it’s part of the generation gap and will contribute to my own learning experience regarding what modern youth is about. While a polite smile would have sufficed, anyone could wear that, and now this moment will forever be frozen into the story of Carlos as he crossed a barrier to finding himself elsewhere and that this was the appropriate gesture for entering new territory, physically, experientially, and intellectually.

Quemado, New Mexico

His enthusiasm quickly came crashing back to earth when I explained that we were going to squat in this abandoned motel in Quemado, New Mexico, because not only was it free, but there were still a few amenities that would make our stay comfortable.

Quemado, New Mexico

I chose this room for my young companion because I felt the eagle above the bed best represented his potential to lead a life free to soar over the world he’s yet to create for himself. Yet it appeared that Carlos may not really be ready for true adventure because I found it impossible to convince him to enter this liminal space. Was it the threat of what might be hiding around the corner in a bathroom of unknown surprises? Come on, Carlos, I plead, it is this sense of liminality that will have you finding another essential part of who you are. For those who would like to understand this idea without interrupting my riveting tale of personal growth by consulting a search engine, I offer the following:

In anthropology, liminality (from the Latin word for threshold) is the quality of ambiguity or disorientation that occurs in the middle stage of a rite of passage, when participants no longer hold their pre-ritual status but have not yet begun the transition to the status they will hold when the rite is complete. During a rite’s liminal stage, participants “stand at the threshold” between their previous way of structuring their identity, time, or community and a new way (which completing the rite establishes). — from Wikipedia.

Quemado, New Mexico

Hey Carlos, is that the sound of panic creeping into your voice as you ask if I’m really going to take these Dollar Store Christmas Mugs? Of course, I’m going to take these great souvenirs; the alternative is to visit some sickly bright gift shop somewhere and buy stuff neither of us needs. Might as well collect some free things to mark the first day of our adventure together. Hey, you wondering, too what’s through that doorway in the background on the right?

Quemado, New Mexico

There was no phone signal out here, and racing over to the payphone to call home for a rescue proved futile for him. In what crazy universe does one believe payphones are still a thing?

Quemado, New Mexico

Oh drats, the local diner is closed, too! I guess we’ll just have to bag a dog or something for dinner, but don’t worry, Carlos, I know how to prepare just about anything. Heck, I got you out here, didn’t I?

Quemado, New Mexico

With his vacation quickly turning dark and the worries of his mom possibly coming true, Carlos felt he needed to reconnect with the god he’s been neglecting, so off we went to the 24/7 local Catholic Church. Appropriately enough, it was Sunday, and he was able to pray and beg for his salvation. I don’t exactly know where his imagination was going, but he asked me to share the following with his mother:

May this Communion, O Lord, cleanse us of wrongdoing and make us heirs to the joy of heaven through Christ our Lord.

Dead Coyote on Highway 60 in New Mexico

Oh look, we’ve found dinner without having to lift a finger trying to capture something fresh.

Pie Town, New Mexico

We left the alternative dimension of Quemado (translation: burnt) and Carlos’s nightmares behind and headed to Pie Town. Certain that winter spelled NO PIE for us, I was surprised to find the Pie-O-Neer Cafe open. Seriously surprised because I had been certain this place was shuttered after being up for sale for quite some time. Alrighty then, we need to step right in as they were “Open For Our Pleasure.”

Carlos Guerrero in Pie Town, New Mexico

Carlos explained, “Yes, this is, in fact, my face of pleasure. Do you have a problem?”

Datil, New Mexico

It was now time to remind my young travel companion that he had foolishly entered New Mexico with me, the home of Roswell where the aliens be. Just behind that large dark cloud is the mothership about to whisk him away for the kind of probing that will defy his worse fears, even those he was entertaining back in Quemado when he thought I might be serious about staying in an abandoned motel. Strangely, he was calm about the whole thing, telling me he felt nearly complete after enjoying that apple/green chile pie with homemade vanilla ice cream back in Pie Town.

Datil, New Mexico

All that was left was for me to tap into the VLA (Very Large Array) here in Datil to inform my overlords that the initiate was ready and happy to join the aliens for whatever adventure awaited him. Hours earlier I had been thinking I may not get along with Carlos in the long run, but now I’m almost sad to see him go.

Datil, New Mexico

This may not have been a Great Story, but it’s the one I mustered all these days after our road trip into unknown territories. At least as far as Carlos is concerned. Had I been taking notes during our outing, I might have had some factual details that didn’t veer into absurdity, but this is all I have.

Carlos Guerrero in Socorro, New Mexico

Hopefully, dinner at El Camino Restaurant in Socorro will be the elixir to revive me and allow color to return to our world. We’ve driven 376 miles to arrive in the middle of nowhere, which seemed like a great idea to me when planning this trip, but looking at Carlos here holding his head in despair, I have to question my thinking about this itinerary. Maybe it’s just an age-gap thing?

Bean Fetishists

Beans

Pssst, want some beans? We’ve got all the beans you could possibly want, from big to small, purple beans, red ones, black beans, white beans, and mottled ones, we will never be satisfied until we’ve sampled ALL THE BEANS!

Our hopeless thoughts/cravings to feed the addiction were reawakened by the Good Mother Stallard beans that are currently in the crockpot. Oh my god, they are amazing! While our pantry still has a breathtaking amount of beans in it (in the order of more than 30 pounds), I had to look at buying more of the Good Mother Stallard except Rancho Gordo is sold out. Searching for another source, I was reminded that Purcell Mountain Farms has also been a reputable supplier for the kind of fix only beans are able to deliver.

Speaking of delivery, I just ordered another 10 pounds. I’ve learned by now that the uncommon heirloom beans we find on the Internet are often gone by the time we are ready to buy them so on this occasion I’m going with the impulse to grab them now. With this order, we are purchasing the following; White Aztec, Pueblo, Orca, Gigandes, European Soldier, Amethyst, Aurora, Anasazi, Black Turtle, and Borlotti beans. They range in price from $6.56 to $15.70 a pound so some are certainly not cheap but the cost attests to their rarity and makes for an exciting proposition that we are going to be trying such a rare bean.

While you wouldn’t know it reading this post, I just took a nearly two-hour break from writing to go on an heirloom-bean-buying binge. It all started with me collating a list of the types of beans I could come up with that we’ve tried. I opened a new spreadsheet and started scanning emails for bean orders over the years since my initial idea was to share a comprehensive list of the varieties we’ve tried. That idea got out of hand once I realized we’ve already tried more than 70 types. After my buying binge and once we’ve had the chance to try them all, we’ll have reached no less than 90 types of beans out of the more than 400 known varieties.

I know of about another dozen varieties from some of the companies I’ve ordered from that are on backorder but after that, it feels like finding new bean types will only grow more difficult. That’s not to say we wouldn’t eat every one of them again. I think I can speak for Caroline too, we’ve never met a bean we didn’t like and would be delighted to enjoy them a second and third time should we be so lucky.

TV Costs What?

DirecTV

Don’t watch TV for over 30 years and then have your eye catch an ad you didn’t want to see, but there it was. DirecTV embedded itself in part of my scroll through Reddit this morning, and while I’ll move to block the advertiser after seeing an ad too many times or one that is garish, the DirecTV ad I had not seen much up to this point and it isn’t distracting due to grotesque aesthetic, yet. So I paused and looked at what they were trying to convey, which triggered a bit of shock.

The advert was luring me with a 2-year special price lock-in for only $64.99 monthly, plus some fine print. My calculating brain was aghast at what it figured out quickly, but I had to know more. I see that the price does not include taxes and fees. The receiver will cost an additional $15 a month, and tax will add at least $6.40 per month, bringing the monthly cost to only $86, but wait, there’s more. This turns out to be over $1000 a year, and I’m certain that this price doesn’t include ad blocking. Then there are pay-per-view movies, regional sports fees, and premium/foreign content channels if you happen to indulge in those. And then you have to figure in AppleTV, Hulu, or Netflix with their fees should the consumer be so inclined.

As I write this stuff, I start thinking that this is not the first time I’ve lamented the cost of entertainment in the home, but maybe the part that really grinds up against my sense of value is that even after paying these exorbitant costs of membership, the consumer is still burdened with having to watch countless insipid ads that I want to believe harms the mental health of viewers.

Throw in a TV or two over the course of 10 years, and this means that Americans are paying roughly $12,000 per decade to be bombarded with stupidity while they allow the entertainment industry to whittle away at their free time under the pretense of alleviating boredom and loneliness and all of a sudden this feels like an aggressive act of emotional/intellectual robbery against the vulnerable general public or maybe it’s something akin to connecting a toxic sewage pipe to their minds which robs these people of dreams and intelligence.

By the way, if I have written more or less the same thing or the theme is worn, just try to think of this post as a rerun.

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.