What would you do if you were wrested away from the life you built yourself on the whim of another human being? Your job — poof. Your home — poof. Moved back in with your family and ending up taking care of them instead of them taking care of you as you die? Would you throw in the towel?
I did, about five hundred times, and yet I’m still here. I even beat myself in the head repeatedly and smashed my head against the wall when it became unbearable to be alive. I was being forced to live side by side with a faceless, nameless entity. Or, entities, rather. Driven to my wit’s end, again and again and again, and never allowed to die. The perfect torture.
It’s still not that great, but at least the more insane of all the entities has finished trying to defile me and defy me. He wanted to control me, to be me and himself at the same time. Typical man. “I know what’s best for EVERYONE without even ASKING!” The hell you do, young man. The hell you do.
He gave up. He gave in. He fell in love with me, despite everything. I am the angel of love, after all. I don’t even know what that really means, but I’ll take it because it’s all I have left: a nonsense title, a journal full of drivel, and one insane story to tell a biographer. Or my future husband, I suppose.
The one trying to control me? He was the man I proposed to after being in love for a decade. Control isn’t love, though. It’s pure hatred disguised as something less vile than it is. Control is to say my brain isn’t good enough to be logical and rational, therefore a man must do it for me. Because a man is superior in every way, emotionally speaking. I have a news flash for you, boys: a man doesn’t ignore his emotions and project them onto others, injecting poison into the mix so that whomever he falls in love with is forced to be someone they’re not just to please him. A real man falls in love with the reality of a real woman.
What’s worse, though, is when a man falls in love with who you are but is too afraid to come forward. So afraid that it causes extra chaos and confusion, especially in the back of the psychic’s mind. We could make excuses for him, but I think I will instead show you how to handle a man.
It’s okay to feel your feelings. They can’t really hurt you, especially if you become a pro at accepting that life is shit no matter what you do or what you have, unless you decide to be optimistic, grateful, and loving. It is my job as the woman to make sure you know it’s safe to speak from your heart. In fact, it’s my job to make as many people feel safe to speak from the heart as I can. Maybe that’s what God meant when he called me the angel of love.
So imagine an angel, made of pure light, wrapping wings of similar pure white light around you. Encapsulating you. Creating a safe place for you to exist and watch the world around you, watch your emotional currents, and to judge facts instead of respond to situations from the seat of emotion. That’s what happens when it’s not safe to talk about one’s emotions; you get hijacked and taken over by the amygdala. We need to bring you into your frontal cortex. That’s what human conditioning is all about, actually.
It’s the frontal cortex where we develop our behaviors, our traits. Where we observe ourselves and our own actions, hopefully with an ounce or two of dispassion so we can continue to be rational. I like to call this The Observation Tower(TM). There are thousands of steps from the amygdala to the tower and it takes a long time to get there. Years, I reckon.
I believe in you.
The amygdala predominantly governs fear and anger. It governs aggression and anxiety, too. I posit that these latter two emotional responses are actually because we are trying to avoid saying we are afraid or we are angry. I have no fancy doctoral thesis to prove it, but perhaps someone else does. Even if they don’t, I know from my own experience that this is The Truth(TM).
We are taught to fear, as often as not. We fear punishments, for example. We fear pain from being burnt, for example. From breaking bones. Not everyone responds the same to being physically hurt, of course. Some people are eager to repeat whatever went wrong because they’re generally sure of themselves and their capability. However, a person who is told for all their life that they cannot amount to anything is a person who will never get back up and go skiing after that compound fracture or go back to the basketball court after a torn rotator cuff is successfully repaired or… you get the idea, I’m sure.
Some of us are conditioned to accept tripping doesn’t amount to complete failure while others are told that every scrape, bump, and sore is the end of the world. We buy the lies that bind us, those of us who give up or lie low after some physical trauma that is perfectly ordinary when one goofs up something tricky and dangerous.
Meanwhile, some of us are conditioned to persevere. I had a debilitating car accident and I couldn’t just go on disability, thanks to the shyster/con artist settlement asshole who convinced me to never speak to a lawyer and “just take the settlement.” I want a redo. I want to jump through the phone and throttle that asshole. I wouldn’t, even now, if that were even possible… but I still want to. (Hello, amygdala. We’re angry over being taken advantage of and being put into a lifetime of pain with no help, aren’t we?) In fact, we mentioned to that insurance agent we were going to seek legal counsel and he talked us out of it. (Is this illegal? I sure hope so! I plan to take action if it is.)
And that is how we stop the amygdala from resorting to aggression and anxiety. Something happened that is worth being angry over. I got angry. I decided to find out if there’s anything I can do about it. If I can’t, I’ll have to let it go. By failing to invest in a fantasy that I will become a millionaire thanks to a past mistake, it will be incredibly easy to let go. Instead, my stance is, “There is likely nothing that can be done about this, but I’ll give it a college try. If nothing happens, then nothing changes. A lawyer who cannot win isn’t even going to charge me a dime to tell me they cannot win.”
That’s why legal counsel is often begun with a free 15 minute consultation. They can figure out if your case is worth pursuing or not fairly quickly, as long as you stick to the facts.
However, if you’re all mixed up and what you say to that legal counsel comes out in a jumble, then they’re likely to decline representing you because they don’t think they can make money. You get to struggle even when you don’t have to. You almost need to know a lawyer to get good representation, to understand what is actionable and what is not.
Anyway, when you are anxious, the same tactic works. Start moving. Start doing anything, even if it’s as simple as taking a gorram walk. Stop being paralyzed and falling into a trap of doing absolutely nothing. Chip away at it, because doing just one little thing makes even daunting tasks more attractive to put in the “Done” pile. And it slays that anxiety, which is a fear that you will never finish, often. A fear that your work will be in vain. A fear that there is no way to win, that it’ll be the same for you every single day. And it will — if you never do anything.
Once you start moving forward — autopilot is fine, you’ll wake up eventually — you will be able to get out of your emotionally induced fugue state. It really is a fugue state when you’re trapped in the amygdala. Trust me on this one, I know it to be true from personal experience. You’re too busy responding to stimuli to see the pattern of the stimuli. You can never get ahead of something annoying if you’re merely dealing with what arises and never planning ahead… and since most of us start well behind, this does not serve us no more.
For instance, if I pour rendered animal fat down a drain while it’s warm, it will coat the sides of the sink for ages. I can pour boiling hot water down the drain as well, which can help, but it won’t get it all unless I do it more than a few times. If I do not take care of the fact that hot grease went down the drain, there’s a likelihood it will back up in the future, as other particles become stuck in said goop. However, if you are merely reactionary in nature, you will never realize how necessary it is to pour a few pots of boiling water down the drain as a preventive measure and you will always be calling a plumber once the drain stops up.
Someone famous and wise once said that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.
They’re right, of course, but they had to get out of their amygdalas to understand that. Yet, in this day of age, that is where everyone wants us to reside: inside our emotions, specifically fear and rage. If you can’t see why, I’ll just tell you to end your suffering: you are then 100% predictable. Being 100% predictable makes you 100% controllable. If you are controlled, you can be forced to part with whatever it is you hold dear in the name of consumerism and patriotism and whatever other vile ideas we’ve dreamt up as the war-mongering assholes that we are.
I began this little talk with the intention of making you feel safe to talk about your emotions, didn’t I? Starting to feel safe yet? How on Earth did that happen?!? Is it recreatable? It is. It most certainly is, says the social scientist in me. I will do the grand reveal now, even though good magicians never share their tricks… but I want to share this one. I want you to be able to do it for yourselves. With your children, your bosses, your extended family, and your friends. If you practice doing it often, you’ll do it by default and suddenly the world around you will open up like an oyster and you will feel like the true treasure inside: the shiny, shiny pearl.
I didn’t accuse you. I didn’t blame you. I didn’t shame you. I didn’t hurt you. I told you it’s okay to have feelings and that you should have them. That to be a grown up, you have to feel them and think about them and deliberate. And then I indirectly told you how at least some emotions work so that you would be put at ease with a topic that had nothing to do directly with you or your person, but everything to do with our species. And maybe it’s true of all species, actually, because if you just wait for a cat to become calm and at peace, a cat will behave like something you’ve never seen before when you convince them they want something like a claw trim. (And yes, you can convince them of this, it just takes monumental patience and some savory treats they could just die for and a certain peace in your very soul that you can and will be able to trim their claws.)
So how do you do it? You take out the me, you take out the you. You talk about the subject in the abstract. It’s going to be really difficult at first, so just do it by yourself if you feel the need to practice it before “going live” with this tactic. It’s really hard to remove your personal perspective if you’re using opinions, but the truth is I used facts (or empirically backed observations, anyway) to tell you something you didn’t know about anger and fear. I also told you how to conquer both: simply take action. Letting go is a kind of action you can take, but so is making a Plan A or Plan B.
However, at first, you might feel drawn to making plans you never follow through on. Avoid the temptation, if you can. The more you fail to enact a plan (ANY plan), the more you will hurt yourself. You will feel your integrity slipping away because you are not keeping your word, which will in turn make you feel ashamed or guilty, which will lead you right back into the amygdala.
You were conditioned to hide in your amygdala, my friend. So go back to the angel that’s going to save you: the being of pure white light that is totally everywhere you go, cares about absolutely everything you have to say, and is your ally at all times. She (or he) is dedicated to making sure you can reach that observation tower, no matter what happens. S/he will not abandon you. S/he is your special friend to help you through all the rough patches.
Ironically, I began this conversation to convince a friend to be less afraid of the consequences of certain actions, and now I’m reassuring the entire human species. #TooMuch?
You are a human bean. No, I mean bean. It’s like a coffee bean, but human-shaped. You were planted the day you were born. You are still growing and the longer you grow, the stronger you get — like a tree. Nobody can cut you open and count the rings, so don’t fret too much about that. (AND STOP DOING IT TO LIVING TREES, MONSTER!)
Now I’m imagining aliens from outer space coming down and treating us like we treated the trees to prove a point. That’s pretty scary, if you ask me. I cut down a tree well before it’s prime once… it was growing into power lines. And then my dumb ass accidentally planted one too close to the lines, too. #TreeMurderer. I’m very sorry, trees. I should have known better… you are living creatures and I should have had more compassion for you. You existed before I did… I should have just had the company trim the tree appropriately instead of felling it. And I should have planted my almond trees a little closer to the house. (I do maintain I had help fucking that one up, though. I’ll be doubly sad, since I doubt the other person gives a shit.)
I deserve it. I murdered those trees. It’s my fault. It was my choice. Every choice I make is my choice, even when I’m being telepathically driven to do things I don’t want to do, like go by the deli to see the cute guy that I’ve seen probably thirty times now. I didn’t even want to do it; I tried to go the other way. Yet, there I was, in front of him, making eyes at him (sorta.) And then all day barraged with the fantasy that he’s into me.
News flash: nobody’s “into” me. I don’t accept this. It’s all fantasy. Not a single one of these guys that is talked up as some awesome mate has ever said hello to me, let alone anything else. And that is part of why I go insane. I KNOW this rationally and still the fantasies continue to have voice in my head. Which is when I get one commanding voice going, “Those are your exes being right bastards, girl.” And that’s the voice of God.
You can hear God, too, if you listen to all the things running through your head. It’s a lot easier from the watch tower. The Observation Tower(TM). You have a bunch of fantastic drivel that tells you how important you are to everything around you and how big your problems are and it consumes you so much that it drowns out the God voice. The God Voice(TM) doesn’t come when you want it to. It comes when you are still and meditating, it comes when you least expect it, and it often comes when you least want it.
Did I want to hear that the fantastic drivel in my head involving the deli man was just fantasy? Hell no. I could see myself in his arms for the rest of my life and dying with a smile on my face.
However… he has to want that, too, or I’ll just make us both miserable when I shoot him with my bow and arrow. In fact, he has to think it’s all his idea, just like a cat. I have to let him decide it all and warm up to it and, eventually, take action on it. In the meanwhile, I guess my feet will be pulled to the counter directly in front of him where I get a good eyeful and then I imagine inappropriate things because I DO NOT HAVE CONSENT.
This is an idea that must be novel to everyone out there. I don’t have consent to daydream about him. If I am psychic or minorly telepathic, there’s no telling what thoughts of mine end up reaching him. I should school myself and treat every person with great respect, because that’s how I deserve to be treated. (You know the golden rule well enough… I know you do. It’s one of the first things you learn in school. Or it was when I was a kid.)
So here I am, sitting around, getting barraged with the idea that he might barrage my face with kisses, and it’s just fake. It’s all fake. This is not reality. It has never happened and until it does happen, it is nothing. A wild desire with no home. I shoot it in the heart and I move on.
There is no reason to sit around thinking about men barraging me with attention. I could be watching a fucking movie (if these entities in my head would respect that.) I haven’t had a lick of me time in over 18 months. Me time must be done alone, in my experience, because I am ever present. I am in the moment. I am as mindful as I can be. Which means when there is a human being around, I give them my full attention (so long as I have theirs.) That’s how I want to be treated. That is respect. Paying attention.
At any rate, you might be wondering why I’m on this little tirade about emotions, considering all of that. It’s this simple: this is what God wants from me. To teach you how to get out of your amygdalas, make the impossibly long trek up to your observation tower, and then judge things from up here instead of down there in the trenches. Become the general who leads the army, not a soldier in the army.
The army is your emotions. Each one is a soldier who is meant to serve you. Not the other way around. You are not meant to serve your emotions, no. But that’s what modern advertising and marketing psychology has us doing. If we aren’t thinking about things rationally, we can be led to any decision someone else wants us to make. Period, the end. We can be manipulated without even being fully aware of it.
What God would let you stay in that place?
Remember your angels are handy at all times. They are figments of your imagination. They can do whatever you want them to, include slaying dragons and sea beasts alike if they threaten your self-sovereignty. You are a nation, a country of your own. You have a flag that you fly (and no, it’s not white… take that damn thing down and try again), you have an army of soldiers (emotions), and you have the general (you, in your observational tower.) There is a war on. A war against greed, against waste, against murder.
Until you have full command of your soldiers, you cannot join the war. You are the war zone instead. PTSD triggers and other douche baggery will keep you from ever being in control of yourself. PTSD is now as common as lunch boxes. Do you want to know some simple ways to help you process your emotions? It’s relatively painless, I might add.
Coloring. Drawing. Playing first person shooters or any video game with left-to-right and right-to-left eye movements. Pong, even. It’s all in moving your eyes like scanning the horizon — something we used to do when we still went outside and saw the wilderness in front of us. We don’t go outside much anymore, as you already know, at least not in “first world countries.” We suffer for it. We will continue to suffer for it. There is nothing more refreshing than a mile-long walk on a crisp autumn day. Your eyes tracking the birds, the squirrels, the rabbits, and everything else out there. Butterflies, bees, spiders.
Ah, wait. There’s the fear again. The outside can hurt us.
It can… yes. Anything can hurt us. Too much sitting is already hurting us. Too much screen time is hurting us. Too much anything hurts us.
I have a secret to tell you about the birds and the bees.
They don’t want to hurt you. Their default is to collect food, eat, sleep, shit, and procreate. That’s it. The only time they will really go out of their way to try to hurt you is if you threaten that. If you threaten their little slice of the pie, they will defend it, tooth and nail. (And stinger.)
And trust me, birds often know when they’re shitting on you, too.
Yeah, I know. There are germs out there. Just like there are worms in the dirt, should you decide to dig in the dirt. And, sometimes, grubs, which turn into Japanese beetles and other nasty insects once they hatch. But who are you to say that the grubs don’t deserve to live? Who are you to say all germs are bad? We’ve got more germs in our guts than cells in our body. We are more comprised of germs than anything else. Bacteria, that is.
Pro-biotics. Still bacteria, friend.
You can brave the outdoors after you get some coloring in (or Borderlands 3, if you’re me.) Trust me, it’ll all add up… plus, it’s relatively cheap therapy, when you consider going to a specialist for $45.00+ a pop (depending on insurance and all that.) That’s right… for $45.00 you can have a video game that does the same thing, or two coloring books and a set of colored pencils, or one coloring book and some swanky markers/pens. Most people can afford $45.00 for their health, right? It might take you a month or two to save it, but you can afford it. In fact, you can’t afford to ignore it. Thus, I prescribe to you: one hour per week of your recreational emotional processing activity. It’s now homework. Borderlands 3, coloring books, drawing… doesn’t matter. HOMEWORK.
Let me tell you why, before you get all offended at my non-PhD psychological / medical advice. I might not have papers to tell you that I’m an authority, but listen to the God Voice. It’ll tell you what’s true and what’s false, you can mark my words on that one. I’ve read a lot of articles, so I’m just regurgitating about 300 hours of reading here.
Anxiety costs you that much per month in pills, if you’re unlucky. Then you’re “that girl” or “that guy” on anxiety pills. Anger costs you that much in broken objects, because every angry outburst adds up, no matter how solid your walls are, if you know what I mean. Fear costs you a lifetime of experiences, which you cannot put a price tag on. You will miss out on a lot of things, sitting around afraid of what might happen.
Do you know what’s happening when you’re trapped in fear? Nothing good. Your body gets flooded with adrenaline, which, over time, is proven to lead to nasty shit like heart failure. High blood pressure. Worse stuff that I don’t feel like Googling to fact-check before I say it. It’s very similar when trapped in anger, but it feels different on the inside. Anger gives you the impetus to move while fear gives you the impetus to freeze. (I posit fight/flight is more about whether or not you have any anger, but I’m willing to admit this just occurred to me and could use some studying to prove it right/wrong.)
These emotions are meant to be tools to keep us from dying when surrounded by lions and tigers and bears, oh my! We’re now surrounded by pedophiles, child molesters, and murderers, OH MY! Except now our enemies look exactly like the “good guys.” Confusing, don’t you think? I’d rather my enemy be a rose bush, honestly.
So think about it. We are being trapped in our emotions, shoved down into our amygdalas… because nobody would tell you about the angel ready to save your soul. The one who will shield you and protect you and tell you that you’re right when you’re right, you’re wrong when you’re wrong, and it’s okay to make mistakes because you’re human… and all you can do is try to make the best of them. Try to make it up, try to fix it, try to make it right.
Do you know if you go back and redo your mistakes (even when you’re not forced to), that habit will set you apart from the rest of the civilized world in a way that will make you unforgettable? You want to leave a legacy behind, but history books are written by assholes; word of mouth is the only way to go. How do you get it?
You let that angel teach you how to be the angel to everyone else around you. That’s how. You become the pure light force of goodness, and that will lead you to righteous greatness.
I think this is what that the fucking book those Bible thumpers worship meant to say, but I can’t really be sure. Use your God Voice and figure it out, hmm? It’s your decision. The only thing we can’t choose to decide on when it comes to truth versus fiction is when facts are involved.
For instance, FACT: There have been genocides. (At least three in history, and probably more like 30.)
We can’t change that. It’s immutable.
FACT: I was raped as a child. No matter how much wishful thinking I put into it, this happened. It’s a fact. However, I have learned (taught myself, possibly to my detriment) that facts aren’t what make me who I am. It’s what I’m doing, day in and day out. That kind of fact is a damn tragedy, but we all have tragedies we’re hiding, wounds we’re nursing. We’re all struggling and we all need that angel to save us when we cannot save ourselves.
It’s okay to need help. That’s why we built society the way it is, so we could help each other. We can specialize in something unique and give aid where we see the ability to give aid. We’ve become blinded to this thanks to the greedy rat race the 1% has put forth. Suddenly, you’re nobody without a fucking house that floats on the ocean. Except you are somebody. In fact, you’re part of the 9.3 billion people who don’t have a floating house. You might not even own a house or even be able to rent an apartment, instead living in a tent somewhere… or, worse yet, living on a piece of cardboard.
If we still lived in caves, we’d have it easier. No more roof maintenance, no gutters, no mowing the lawn, none of that shit that we made up to edge out all the wild animals because modern medicine couldn’t save us from them. But it can now. And yet, the bees are endangered, and we still mow our lawns like clockwork. Did you know the butterflies are similarly endangered? Every critter you ever found cute is currently in danger of dying, including your daughter or grand daughter, son, even the fantastical ideas you make friends with in your head.
This world is already dead, we just haven’t gotten to the conclusion yet. Our oceans are filled with plastic and nobody gives a shit. We just keep making it and buying things sealed in it and throwing it away or recycling it (if it’s recyclable — what the ever living fuck already, people?) as if the problem will solve itself. Some bleeding heart liberal will make it better for the rest of us, eh?
Everything will die.
It’s supposed to, but we’re all going to die together very soon, thanks to the mess we’ve made. I wish there were destroyers from a far-off galaxy coming to save the wildlife from us, but they aren’t. The reality is, we’re doomed. Everything is doomed. You know, I used to tell myself this planet would be alive until the sun turned into a red giant, or somewhere along its journey to becoming a red giant, anyway. Scientifically speaking, life should have been able to carry on.
It can’t now. It cannot last even thirty years, let alone a million. Let alone five billion, which is when the sun is supposed to become a red giant. Our science isn’t always exact, though, so we might want to give some leeway on that figure. We’re supposed to be custodians of this planet and take care of it to the best of our ability. That’s what we signed up for when we decided to destroy everything but ourselves in the name of “progress.”
We did this. It’s inevitable: we all die. We die at the end. And so does Sparky and Peaches and everything we ever did. It’s all for nothing. We have reached the Event Horizon and we have no idea we’re staring at our demise. Greta knew, though. She told you years ago. She told you we had to change now so everyone in the future had a chance.
Well, there is no chance now. We’ve destroyed that which kept the pestilence at bay. Now, billions will die because we have tipped the scales. They were in our favor so long… what happens when God puts the counterweight of all counterweights on the scale?
Our only chance is cleaning up this plastic mess we made. All together. All of us. Every single human being now must be part of the solution. It falls on deaf ears, I know, but I write anyway to tell you we are wrong. We fucked up. We failed. Our civilization is going extinct because we cannot accept blame for the part we play.
Do you buy water in the store? A jug of milk? Plastic-wrapped Ramen? Styrofoam? #6 is “unrecyclable” because no one gives a shit. But I do. I give a shit! Except I’m not a fancy billionaire able to direct a ton of resources at solving the root cause of our problem. Nobody is, except a handful of assholes who clearly do not give a shit about anything but how many floating houses they own. They might care when those houses float into the great Plastic Island. How long until then, assholes?
Until we clean this up, we do not deserve a heaven. Not one single soul in all of creation that was a human bean will deserve anything but HELL. What do you think is going to happen to us in the afterlife? We’re all going to Hell, of course. Everyone. Even me. #RIP Trees.
I deserve it. I haven’t listened to my inner angel enough. I haven’t been the angel everyone needs enough. I haven’t done enough. Now? Now I collect plastic, shoving it inside other plastic bags (it’s always bags somehow, isn’t it?) and take it to the grocery store to throw it in their bag recycling bin, full well knowing that they don’t recycle every kind of bag, but they need to start.
And we need to stop making everything disposable. We are killing living things to create tissues and toilet paper and paper and boxes and couches and so on… and then we throw perfectly good pieces of once-living creature away because we abuse the hell out of it without trying to pay homage to the fact that we murdered something to make ourselves comfortable.
We’re murderers, killing everything we see to be comfortable. To live without fear.
I really wish I could die. I asked for true love somewhere in this mess and I know it’s never coming because I don’t deserve it. I’m just God’s tool now. A broken carcass trying to fake it until I make it. All I do is sleep all fucking day and night and wield a digital pen. (It’s probably better than an actual pen — could you imagine if the Earth hurt for ever bit of metal and stone we carved out of her? And if the pen was plastic, well, that’s just a heinous thing I’d be doing. And suddenly I feel like a giant douche bag for throwing away used up pens instead of trying to recycle them.)
I don’t know why He bothered to keep me alive. If I’m not part of the solution, I am absolutely part of the problem.
If I was king of the world, I would sweep my arm and say, “LET IT BE SO!” and all things we have done would be cleaned up, recycled where possible, and we’d use lesser beings than trees to make our furniture… like bamboo. It’s not a perfect solution, but they have less vitality since they don’t live more than a few years before harvest. But a tree? That tree could be alive for 100 years. We know trees are sentient. ALL LIVING LIFE IS SENTIENT.
I know this because I talk to it all the time. Yeah, I know. I’m crazy. What’s that God Voice telling you right now? Have you ever tried talking to a spider? An earthworm? A bird? A squirrel? They all respond. Even plants respond to stimuli like that… I imagine it’s because water responds to it, and we are all comprised of some amount of water. All of us.
Here are the things God wants:
- Stop stealing honey and wax from the bees. They need it.
- Stop spreading hatred everywhere with piss and vinegar thoughts, actions, and words.
- Stop stealing sap from the maple trees, pine trees, and rubber trees. They are ALIVE. Ask nicely and see what happens.
- Stop burning fossil fuels. It’s poison.
- Stop using plastic for everything. RAISE THE FUCKING WAGES, IMBECILES. And stop trying to have exponential growth. Everything waxes and wanes. Everything.
- Stop murdering trees. They talk to each other through their roots. They know their kin from other random trees in their network. And, when the oldest and strongest tree dies within a copse of trees, it sends its nutrients to all the trees it’s linked to, favoring its kindred. If that’s not sentience, then boil me alive.
- Be humane to that which you kill to eat already. They deserve respect. You are operating within your parameters [omnivore] but that does not mean you should disrespect the animal [or plant] giving its life to you.
- Understand that food was not meant to be made immortal. Dry it out, rehydrate it when you need it. Stop putting it in cans and definitely stop using disposable plastic. I’m less annoyed with Tupperware, so long as you use it until it basically disintegrates and then you recycle it. And I do mean the brand TUPPERWARE, not GLADWARE or that other chintzy knock off bull shit.
- Give food to the animals. Stop using pesticides. Stop genetically modifying shit until your bodies no longer recognize it as food. You are hurting yourselves. There’s tons of farm land not even in use just so produce has a price that is profitable. It’s nonsense. I’d get rid of money if I was you, but you’re all idiots so I don’t think you can handle it.
- Stop growing plants just to let them die in a container. PUT THEM IN THE FUCKING GROUND. Or a bigger container.
- Stop trucking things from one continent to another. Set up farms on each continent for what you consume. Understand that when you run out, you run out. Focus on staying alive and keeping the planet alive instead of that world famous Crème Brûlée recipe.
- Stop milking animals. You’re stealing food from the young and torturing animals that have done their part in raising a new generation. MILK HUMAN BEANS INSTEAD.
- I’m not kidding.
- Stop hoarding food. Stop giving poison that looks like food to people, too. Nightshades, dairy (especially cheese), and so on. Refined sugar. How is it Europe knows sugar cane is a cancer-causing substance but every food on the shelf in America has sugar in it? (It’s healthier because it’s organic cane sugar, GOD! Crystol gives me the look(TM). God bursts into malicious laughter, of course, because it’s all poison no matter how you grow it.)
- Introduce euthanasia. People who cannot take care of themselves MUST BE EUTHANIZED. They are a drain on ALL resources. I don’t care that they’re fucked up because you did meth while they were in the womb and you feel bad about that. I don’t care that they’re unable to take care of themselves because a car accident happened. If it’s permanent, then get rid of them. You’re far too sentimental about keeping shit alive while you MURDER THE REST OF CREATION. Keep my skunks alive, instead, assholes, and STOP SWERVING INSTEAD OF SLOWING DOWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
- Build greenways over those goddamn highways already.
- Plastic island. Capisce?
- Start blaming yourself for whatever happens before you blame other people. Let them take their part of the blame on their own, it’ll let them grow up instead of struggling in the amygdala. You are not perfect. You never will be.
- Stop putting stickers on shit, it’s just glue and plastic. Where’d the glue come from? Retired race horses? Fuck you all. #AnimalAbusers
- Stop putting real animals in movies. Stop making endless props that are only used one time because the movie has to stand out and be unique and one-of-a-kind and original. Just stop. Use as much CGI as possible and get rid of the waste.
- Reduce, reuse, recycle, rebuy.
That seems like enough to make your head spin. Now I’m going to go let my daughter cry over how terrible she is for murdering things. She does that.
Angel-Sansara 