Message To Messengers

"I would rather be spreading minds, but do not want jail time.'

The 'spreading minds' coinage comes from a Primus song:

Duchess and the Proverbial Mind Spread

It had been awhile, so I had to dredge to stupefying amount of words we have written back-and-forth for a monkey memory refresher. I think mostly I was alluding to, before I became a heavy tool of the system and subsequently, middle-class, the latent idea of techno-shamanism and me being an agent of it. The evolutionary possibilities of psychotropic vegetable matter tickle my mind. Previous agents have certainly been incarcerated for decades or vilified by the establishment for doing such activities. I think we have come to a point where it's either love or die, evolve or face extinction. I am a proponent of the idea that culture and technology blossomed through the consumption of such substances; however, we have had issues in the West with consumption for the sake of consumption.

In the past, I know I have had such issues where indulging was done without ritual or quest for personal and spiritual growth. I think mostly, within my peer group in high school West Side of Phoenix, we were trying to escape the realities of our broken homes, decaying neighborhoods, and foolish child-parents. The downward spiral, coupled with the use of some not so evolutionary substances, led to jail time for some and longer maturation time for many of us. One of the saving graces in my life was becoming a parent as a teenager.

The fog of my adolescence was blasted away by the bright light of becoming civilized and having my feral ways tamed by the men in green. I didn't run from the responsibility of being a parent, but I certainly struggled with great angst about it. Spending time in a military mind and the threat of prison and destitution for one's offspring builds a possibly healthy fear (in those circumstances) of avoiding the aforementioned activities.

In any case, sometimes I feel like a rat in a cage like the Smashing Pumpkins song 'A Bullet With Butterfly Wings'. I have mostly come to grips with my conundrum, but every once in awhile I want to break out of the machine and run down the beach naked until I pass out or expire from exhaustion; as tears of joy from my star struck eyes dribble down my face and mix with the salt of the sea.

MM23