The Slime of Productivity

It all feels so gross. The slime of productivity, expectancy, and efficiency. It gets all over you, and it doesn't wash off easily.

Why Is There Something Rather Than Nothing? Nothing Doesn't Exist

Why is there something rather than nothing? First, we must admit this is a bad question. There is no such thing as "nothing." This is because "nothing" is ontologically impossible — voids don't exist. Stripping away matter leads to a vacuum, which isn't a void.

Second, something is perspective. This emerges when boundaries are drawn — you need an observer in a local system to outline the boundaries of "something."

Ultimately, the option for something or nothing simply doesn't exist.

Reframed, it would be better to say there is something and non-something since something emerges from boundaries set by the subjective observer. Anything without those boundaries is non-something — not nothing.

Reality doesn't choose to exist, it simply is — a continuous non-something. Thus, non-something is the ultimate truth.

Somethings are conventional truths about reality that require vantage points from a subjective observer.

The $20 Delivery

It had been a long day. It was unusually hot for October. I was ready for the leaves to turn maroon, gold, and all shades of rust, but the weather wasn't ready. So I wore khaki shorts and a black band t-shirt.

I'd been delivering food all day. The lunch rush was busy. I didn't know why — maybe the capitalists were feeling lazy or just didn't have time to go out. All the better for me. More deliveries means more tips.

I stopped at the same gas station in the worst part of town for a break. It had been six months since I got food poisoning from this location. All the clerks had turned over since then. Whoever forgot to change out the taquitos couldn't still be there. Now seemed as good a time as any to roll the dice.

I went inside and passed the slot machines on my way to the 2 for $3 deal. An old woman with an oxygen mask was feeding her Social Security check into a machine, trying to change her fortune. A homeless man beside her was doing the same thing with whatever he had left. Sometimes the sensible thing to do seems senseless.

Before I could get my food, I got a notification: a $20 order. Can't pass that up. Two pizzas, less than five miles. Easy money.

I walked past the old lady, the beggar, and three shoeless kids with dirty feet outside the convenience store, got in my old car, and cranked the ignition three times. I was on my way.

I pulled into the parking lot of the pizza place and ignored a phone call. One way you can tell it's still hot is that the maze of spiders under the overhang is still thick. Moths, flies, and other bugs are stuck in a life they don't want — just like the rest of us.

No wait. The food was ready when I got there. Within five minutes I was on my way again. Another call from the same number. I ignored it again, but this time it left a voicemail. I wondered if it was the extended warranty thing again.

I pulled into the apartment complex for my delivery. I tried not to peek at the voicemail, but couldn't help myself. I have that text generator on my phone that transcribes messages. I saw the first line and my heart sank.

Then the call came a third time. I hit ignore again. Why answer now? I know all is lost. All is hopeless. What use do I have for additional confirmation?

The only question that remains is: do I head to the hospital or deliver this pizza? I'm already here. Might as well walk it to the front door and make $20. It won't change my situation, but I can't think of a reason not to deliver it.

Siege & Passage

Summer strolls are difficult because everything is hot.  The sun beats down—burning flesh, bleaching hair, and drying throats.  Salty sweat invades your eyeballs like hoplites in phalanx formation.  You can't fight back.  Wiping only makes it worse.  

The other enemy is the ever present wasps.  They outnumber you, they don't like you, but as long as you keep your distance they barely notice your existence. 

Winter walks are difficult because everything is cold.  The sun beats down, yet it has succumbed to battle fatigue.  If you march fast enough you can still sweat, but it's nothing more than a nuisance.  The eyes are still a casualty.  The icy breath of winter dries them, a torment far worse than the whispers of summer.  Neither season is at peace with the eyes.  

Winter would appear to be an ally against the wasps.  Prepare for betrayal dear friend.  Though they dwindle in numbers—they remain hungry.  Very hungry.  Winter merely gossips and arouses their wrath.  Finally, after all this time they attack.  Fly at you.  Land on you.  They would devour you if they had the strength, but they are merely corpses.     

two frozen wings 

a payment to Charon 

for safe passage

 

 

A.M. Walks

Slippery sidewalks are spattered with morning mist. A beetle plummets into a sidewalk crevice—deep as a canyon. His legs tap dance for the sun like an off-Broadway street performer. A choir of birds sings a dirge for cracked eggs cooked by calico cats. Winds whisper the poetry of rotting flesh from last week's roadkill. Children dance ecstatically over carcasses of frogs, themselves only tadpoles last week.  

    rusty gate won't close,
    knees can't bend—ankles frozen

    everything is stuck

Finding the Sacred in an Indifferent Universe: Beauty Without God

If there is no God making demands from on high, then we are free. But this freedom shifts responsibility. 

If nothing is dictating how we should live, then we have to figure out how to live on our own. How do we accomplish this?

We must lean into the indifference of the universe with our biology. Despite the fact that the universe has no intrinsic meaning in the absence of God, we are "wired" by evolution to see it as beautiful.

We stand at the Grand Canyon under cloudless blue skies and are mesmerized by millions of years of erosion by the Colorado River. 

We stand in the Redwood Forest — breathing in the healing power of trees — and feel better. 

We stand on the shore of the Gulf of Mexico and watch dolphins swim by. 

We see and understand our world as beautiful, as something awe-inspiring.

Our conscious minds choose to organize the cosmos in a way that is harmonious to our senses. We should ignore cosmic narcissism and lean into harmony and peace in our surroundings. 

The forest, oceans, and mountains become the church of man. Our subjective perception of beauty in an indifferent cosmos is the sacred.

The Encore

The back conforms to the stiff mattress like a corpse in a coffin. Eyes don't move; can't move. Entranced by the galaxy projector's disco lights—hues of pink and blue dance across the heavens of this bedroom. The patterns are so ritualistic that I can hear the beat of tribal drums and chanting cavemen—naked by the shore—gazing in wonder at stars like these. 

My eyes fall shut, and a shaman tip toes across a balance beam between my ears. He whispers, "Avoid the shadows with sleep." In this cacophony of pagan bliss, I don't hear the screams from apartment 14; nor the bullets ricocheting off the windowsill. No, my eyes stay foggy while the lights have their encore to the rhythm of my bathroom faucet...tap, tap, tap.

choir of bullfrogs

symphony of insects

I am silent

Owning Time: A Radical Temporalist Approach

Time is the one currency you can never earn back. Money, status, even achievements are replaceable. Minutes are not. The question isn’t how to fill your hours—it’s how to live them fully.

Increase Vitality: Protect your sleep. Walk until your nervous system unclenches. Move your body in ways that feel real. Eat food that sharpens rather than dulls. Breathe in sunlight, not screens. Laugh, stretch, sweat. Vitality is your availability for life.

Deepen Connection: Be present with the people who matter. Sit with your partner without distractions. Ask your kids questions and truly listen. Share small adventures. Touch. Tell honest stories. Admit uncertainty. Connection grows where performance fades.

Sharpen Attention: Single-task. Read slowly. Walk without headphones. Memorize something small. Play music without distraction. Notice sensory details around you. Attention is a blade—use it, don’t dull it with multitasking.

Feel Alive Without Performance: Write without publishing. Move without tracking. Explore without documenting. Dance with your kids. Learn without mastery. Say no to impress, yes to live. Let moments exist without proof.

The point isn’t heroics. It’s presence. Aliveness. Ownership. Most people spend their days becoming someone. Radical temporalists spend theirs being here.   

Conscious for 76 Years, Existent for Eternity

We all had one father and one mother. Genetically, we are them and they are us. They are our past lives because we came from them. In some sense, we are a rebirth of them, though we are not conscious of any of their life experiences.

And when our lives are over, our bodies return to the interconnected web of the universe. Our bodies change form — perhaps to the soil, then to the worm, then to the bird, and then to a person again — though we are not conscious of any of this.

That's the thing about existence. Our entire universe is what we experience. Our awareness of this experience lasts only 76 years on average, but we will exist for eternity, just unaware.

The beauty of life is the time that we get to be conscious of it. The horror of life is knowing that it won't last. How we deal with the anxiety as the finish line creeps up on us will define us.

Knowing that this end is real, and not sugar-coating it with promises of a conscious afterlife for which we have no evidence, is how you prepare for death — which is also how you prepare to live. 

Time vs. Money: Why Peace Lasts Longer Than Happiness

We can make more money, but we cannot make more time.  This is a fundamental truth about life.  

In order to avoid suffering there are basic needs that must be met.  These needs include food, water, shelter, clothing, healthcare, etc.

All of these needs require resources that are obtained through some kind of job where you exchange labor for money.  This takes a significant amount of your time.

This requires dependence on other people, economies, laws, and many other things in order to procure the needed money to buy the needed resources to survive.

The time commitment needed to survive, the lack of control that comes from dependence, and the inability to influence all of our outcomes leads to suffering.

This means that what you trade is going to exceed what you get in return.  The money you get paid for working will never exceed the value of the time you give up; because, you are trading something non-renewable (your time) for something renewable (money). 

All this is just to survive and have the basic things needed to reduce suffering.

This does not stop the aging process.  This will not keep you from dying one day.  It is merely a bandage for day-to-day life.

This is why pessimism is closer to the true nature of reality than optimism.  Because in the end you are running on a wheel to survive, but you can't run on it forever.  You are just delaying the inevitable.

Thus making peace with reality makes more sense than trying to achieve happiness.  The contentment that comes from happiness is temporary for ephemeral beings.  Seeking peace is more lasting because one can find peace in even the most deplorable places–––where happiness is absent.  

Life becomes a test of equanimity, not pleasure.  One can train themselves to become strong in moments that test them.  

Resignation is the best way to achieve these ends.  You don't need to be successful in any conventional sense because conventional success is merely a social construction.  

To resign from convention is to become nonconformist in nature.  This will look like failure to everyone else.  

Conventional success appears universal because it means chasing all the things others desire, but the ethos of failure is unique to the subject.  

In the end, all one can say they are doing is surviving.  You cannot survive forever, only delay the inevitable outcome–––the inevitable failure.  

Failure is the final gasp of existence.

Clinging to things leads to attachment.  And attachment, when life and everything in it is temporary, is a recipe for disappointment. 

Reduce the things that you cling to and you will find the path to survival simpler and more enjoyable.  The material things that keep people in the rat race are the things to avoid.  For they will lead to your ruin.

A simple life with few wants and commitments, where strength comes from within, where peace comes from a sound mind is the way to reduce suffering.  This is all you can do with life, all you can do with failure.  

Savoring the Present: Finding Meaning on the Edge of Non-Being

When I walk through a neighborhood I'm struck by the polarity of being and non-being.  All these homes were built to house people; presumably they were meant for families.  

I pass a new house.  It seems to be full of possibilities.  The kind of place you'd imagine children and young couples.  

A little further you come across an older home with a construction crew onsite.  The home is being remodeled.  Many families have come and gone in this house.  It is being updated, so that it can begin again.

Towards the end of the street I come to an old dilapidated house.  The weeds have grown up all around the front yard—obscuring the porch, windows, and doors.  The roof has caved in and a tree has fallen on the back patio.  The paint is chipped and faded.  The wood along the trim is rotten.  There are no families here, only an empty shell where memories were once made.

Families, much like the homes that house them, come and go.  The people start out new, grow old, and end up empty shells—their identities lost to eternity.  

They leave artifacts behind.  With communities remembering their legacies for a time.  Influence may out live them, but in the end this is all temporary.  Even legacies fade into oblivion.  

And much like the old house I stand in front of, I will eventually fade into obscurity.  I will be absorbed by the earth that I once walked upon.  I will fade into non-being.

How do I come to grips with being in a state that is inching towards non-being?

All I can do is savor each inch as it passes in front of me.  This is the marrow of existence.  The art of becoming.  

I am always changing into something else.  This is why I must acknowledge the present moment as the only true reality.  If I don't I will miss the seasons as they change on this long walk through life.

I must acknowledge the interconnected nature of everything.  This is the true freedom.