Warning! This is a long read! The first is my final draft, to which my professor responded, “You certainly have an interesting mix of views and role models, which defy the polarized categories prevalent in our institutions and the media.” The second is the final final, which was born of Professor’s urging to take it deeper, see what might really be possible . . . please enjoy, and don’t call the Feds *prayer hands emoji*

A Radical Conundrum: to Revolt or to Reform (draft)

            “A great many of you consciously or unconsciously think of evolution as a process of inexorable improvement. You imagine that human beings began as a completely miserable lot but under the influence of evolution very gradually got better and better and better and better and better and better and … until one day they became you, complete with frost-free refrigerators, microwave ovens, air-conditioning, minivans, and satellite television with six hundred channels. Because of this, giving up anything would necessarily represent a step backward in human development. So Mother Culture formulates the problem this way: ‘Saving the world means giving up things and giving things up means reverting to misery. Therefore . . . forget about saving the world,’” Daniel Quinn, in the voice of Ishmael, the gorilla, explains to a young girl what is wrong with the conquering mindset of human governance and how to, simply, save the world, in his book My Ishmael.

Though my own revolutionary mindset was born of an early childhood surviving inner-city poverty, orphanhood, and all ten of the “Adverse Childhood Experiences,” (ACEs), fueled by a conspiracy-theorist stepdad, and cultivated within my intrinsic draw to ancient spirituality, it was not until immersing myself in the corruption of American politics that I truly began to formulate a radicalism of my own. Reading Daniel Quinn’s Ishmael and sequel, My Ishmael gave my thoughts an origin and shape; but, what to do with this radicalism continues to be the prevalent question in my life.

            The prompt of this Political Science: American Government final is to explore actionable possibilities for two political issues of significant interest to me. Like Quinn, I view the entire spectrum of culture, politics, and government from a holistic and largely anthropologic or philosophic lens; so, funneling this into two issues is challenging. I will however point to warmongering, both direct and indirect, as the first and elimination of the oligarchy as the second. To me, these two points of divergence from human nature are a great place to start dismantling the system of oppression that is the American Government and make room for an objectively happier, freer society. . . like we had long ago, before any of this Government stuff was put in place to control the flow of commerce.

            To reform or to revolt, that is the question that arises when I consider and analyze the possible civil actions in which I might engage. The possibilities seem endless and range from ludicrous and highly unlikely to reasonable, but ineffective. I will begin with the most absurd and unlikely options. Like Gandhi or Haile Selassie, I could merge spirituality with revolution to gain the trust and allegiance of the masses and forge a revolution based on martyrdom, entirely as a beloved figure; but, unlike Haile Selassie, I have no desire to rule an empire – though it would be fun to dance to the rhythm of my own lore, akin to the Selassie-inspired reggae that has become the verbal tradition of the Rastafari culture. This approach would begin with judicial branch conflicts by inciting cause for public arrests, legal battles, and new precedents, then involve the legislative branch rewriting the constitution, and finally the executive branch being overthrown in a people’s coup.

            Other ways to begin to achieve similar results without the infamy of an outright takeover, but following in some of Gandhi’s footsteps, would include earning my law degree to become a lawyer and/or judge, utilizing the judicial system directly from within to reform the loopholes that allow corruption to reign. I would hold corrupt, warmongering officials accountable for their crimes, specifically by prosecuting actual war crimes and the closely associated (like misappropriating funds, supplies, and weapons to countries at war under the guise of “support” to illegally fight by proxy). Additionally, I could combat conflict of interest issues within Congress by bringing suits against lawmakers and their families to fine them for and bar them from investing in the very weapons industry they regulate. Through litigation and precedent, I would dismantle corporation-as-human loopholes and allowances that have laid the foundation for the oligarchy to prevail, eliminating legal and financial protections for these behemoth entities. Congress, opening an investigation and hearing testimony, would be involved in repealing some old and passing some new laws to close these loops.

            Alternatively, a corrupt-adjacent avenue to reform is already taking place at the executive branch level and proving itself to be ill received: gain obscene wealth and notoriety as a private citizen, network amongst the elite and powerful within the oligarchy itself to gain the trust of and influence over the US President in order to, by proxy, issue executive orders, pardons, and sweeping mandates according to my revolutionary whims. We’ll eliminate this option from our hypothetical list immediately.

            In a slingshot change of course from the absurdly problematic to the perfectly acceptable but equally futile, I will mention lobbying and advocacy. It is entirely possible to continue working in the social services and/or nonprofit sector, lobbying sympathetic lawmakers to self-reform at the local and congressional levels, encouraging term limits, new rules about investments (especially weapons), and eliminating the revolving door of industry self-regulation. Sadly, I now look at figures like Senator Bernie Sanders, whom I once held in highest esteem, as having succumbed to oligarchical corruption after he surrendered his presidential candidacy to a Clinton and then proceeded to “earn” $1.4M in pharmaceutical dollars during and after the covid years. If lobbying and advocacy from the grassroots was an effective reform tool, we would already have a different American political landscape; instead, it is an avenue only for the ultra-wealthy and “Super [PACs].” I will take this argument further, from the perspective of a young Minnesotan during the Paul Wellstone era, when he, another true reformer, was suddenly taken from us in a “freak accident,” and further even still by pointing to the botched confirmation of former presidential candidate and outright disruptor, Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., currently in progress. The outcome of his hearings remains to be seen, but his treatment by lawmakers is nothing short of fanatical zealotry on national television.

            The final “option” that made my list of revolutionary or reformative considerations, but not probable actions, exists rather outside of the three branches of government – or, rather, it was meant to stay outside of government but hacked its way inside. Like the fugitive-hero Julian Assange, I could team up with talented hackers to infiltrate the Pentagon, White House, Congress, IRS, Federal Reserve (not considered a branch of government . . . but, perhaps, should be?), and intelligence agencies to and expose the proof of corruption. We, the hackers, Julian, and I, could publicly publish our findings with one hand while using the other to disarm weapons, power grids, the stock exchange, all debtors, and any other system we deem necessary; then, with the world in the throws of chaos, we would make our demands. The demands would include, but not be limited to: permanent withdrawal from all World Economic Forum initiatives, permanent closure of the stock exchange, a ban on any weapons-investor or manufacturer from ever holding public office, removal of all standing elected officials without eligibility to run again in their lifetimes, replacement of the electoral college with a direct democracy (election by popular vote), elimination of the federal income tax as part of total tax law reform that focuses not on taxing individuals, but corporations and multi-billionaires, elimination of laws that allow corporations to enjoy “human rights,” elimination of judicial-branch protections for drug manufacturers, abolition of the Patriot Act and Homeland Security, prison reform (no longer privately-owned entities; a state-controlled system), and a cap on campaign spending for all elections. This hacker route, however, is dangerous, anarchist, and illegal – though it may be interesting to explore in an essay, I want to make it perfectly clear that I will not engage in any of these activities.

            Instead, I find it more likely that I will continue working toward gaining power in legal ways, through finishing my undergraduate degree at the University of Maine, Presque Isle, and then moving on to potentially earning a prestigious law degree. I may then leverage my newfound power and connections to create a new political party, following in the broken but well-meaning Libertarian Party’s footsteps by systemically influencing municipalities via elected party officials until a foothold can be made in an influential state, eventually gaining enough notoriety or popularity to win on the national stage and reform from within Congress or the executive branch. As an alternative to reform through election, I could use the law degree to defend and amend the existing constitution and/or to dismantle corporations via class action suits; then, I could become a judge and set new precedents that go on to shape policy and constitutional law.

Otherwise, like Gandhi or Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Jesse Ventura or Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., I could use my education, voice, and platform to inspire grassroots reform . . . with the same end goals and demands as those I would hypothetically have had hand in hand with Assange and the hackers. These options seem plausible, ambitious, and satisfying to me.

            In the meantime, I will continue working in the “gap” between industry and government, the nonprofit sector, as an agitator, disruptor, diplomat, organizer, and advocate at state and local levels through my work at the coalition table and in my community. I will continue to speak about the world like Daniel Quinn’s gorilla, recalling a time when humans were perfectly happy to rule themselves, eat freely of the abundance of the earth, recreate and dance, and coexist in harmony with other, sometimes overlapping, tribal units, wild animals, and egalitarian technologies. Perhaps I will take a page out of the deep conspiracy files and point to examples of advanced civilizations that existed before the theorized ancient apocalypse; or, I can rely on spiritual prophesies and teachings; or, I could, simply, co-write a new narrative of possibilities alongside my fellow humans the way the “Other 99%” protests intended, but abandoned.

            I believe a better world is possible, but that the philosophy necessary to achieve it predates formative political engineers like Thomas Hobbs and John Locke, who focused on reforming and controlling an already-commercialized world (as evidenced in their language about people’s rights to property or the need to defend against a ruling power), rather than philosophically allowing for the anthropological possibility of a world without money, without class division, and without war. They failed to “Imagine all the people / Livin’ for today,” they failed to “Imagine there’s no countries,” and they failed to realize there is “Nothing to kill or die for,” or “all the people / Livin’ life in peace;” after reading this essay, “You may say I’m a dreamer / But I’m not the only one,” and alongside John Lennon, who wrote those lyrics in his song Imagine, I, Brittany Boles, the author of this existential political essay, also hope “someday you’ll join us / And the world will live as one.”

***

To Revolt or to Reform: a Radical Conundrum – or, “The Mothers Go on a Sex Strike” – final

            “’Going to war’ is acceptable to you, but erratic retaliation is not, and it never has been,’” Daniel Quinn, in the voice of Ishmael, the gorilla, explains to a young girl in his book My Ishmael. Quinn refers to the modern human form of governance and society collectively as “the Takers,” and goes on to say, “I suspect it’s because erratic retaliation is fundamentally self-controlling and fundamentally unsusceptible to outside management. And Takers don’t trust anything that’s self-controlling. They want to manage it all and can’t stand having anything going on around them that is outside their control.” The star of Quinn’s books is Ishmael, an incredibly well-educated gorilla who seeks to teach his human pupils how to “save the world” through a series of philosophical, anthropological, and humanitarian conversations.

Like the pupil in My Ishmael, I was once a young girl with a desire to do just that; and, like her, I would have to overcome tremendous early life disadvantages, socioeconomic challenges, and a soul crushing disenchantment by the American political landscape to formulate a radicalism all my own. Reading Quinn as an adult gave form and structure to ideas that would one day be called, “an interesting mix of views and role models, which defy the polarized categories prevalent in our institutions and the media,” by my University of Maine Political Science Professor – and this mix of views and role models came not just from one author, but rather a lifetime of deep spirituality, voracious reading, and conspiracy theorist influences. The question posed by that same professor for me to answer in this final essay is what to plausibly do with all this rebelliousness in the framework of the American government, particularly with emphasis on two political issues of interest to me.

            Without hyperbole, I believe it is all broken: the entire spectrum of culture, politics, and government, or what Quinn calls “the Takers,” is of interest to me. For the purposes of this piece, however, I will focus on warmongering and corporate-oligarchal rule as micro points to start dismantling the macro system of oppression that is the American Government. How best to tackle these issues? To reform or to revolt, that is the question that arises when I consider and analyze the possible actions in which I might engage. For maximum effectiveness, I will propose a two-pronged approach, employing both revolution and reform: a civil disobedience movement paired with the establishment of a new major political party.

            Gandhi called civil disobedience satyagrahi, from the Sanskrit words satya, meaning truth or non-lying, and graha, meaning a planetary-force-like holding-on: it was a movement of insistence on truth, on staying true to the tenants of non-violence in speech and action, as a force against corruption and evil. Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. followed this example to lead a similar movement here in the United States. Both civil disobedience mass events involved protests, boycotts, and strikes based on holding the high moral ground, and they worked because their heroes personally transcended the governmental, social, and economic evils with which they were at odds. Both Gandhi and King spoke to widespread corruption and disparity with profound ethos backed by strength of character and demonstrated morality that ultimately inspired the masses to join and support them. We are now seeing a resurgence of grassroots hunger for civil disobedience flare up, most recently with the emergence of the other 99% movement, the truckers in Canada, and the George Floyd protests – but, unfortunately, these attempts at revolution were short lived and lacking in the satyagrahi of transparent, inspirational, morally incorruptible leadership. The People’s hunger is not satisfied.

“They used to say, ‘To get a man, you gotta know how to look’ / They used to say, ‘To keep a man, you gotta know how to cook,’” Grammy award-winning superstar Lizzo writes and sings in her hit, Soulmate, which is a perfect introduction to the feminine spice I am cooking up with the civil disobedience prong of this proposed revolution. Gandhi and King are credited for creating these movements, but all the way back in Ancient Greece, the playwright Aristophanes was writing her famously rebellious Lysistrata in the year 411 BC, which has since been retold countless times, including as recently as 2015 in the Spike Lee directed film Chi-Raq, featuring Wesley Snipes, Samuel L. Jackson, and Angela Basset. Her concept is so simple it could be a hook in a Lizzo song: we deny all points of access or entry to our bodies until our demands are satisfied. In other words: a sex strike. Lysistrata takes it even further by occupying the central bank and effectively freezing all cashflow to society – an Ancient Greek boycott at the hands of the Athena-blessed.

            My proposed two-pronged rebellion-to-reform is simple, and it starts at the proverbial bottom, with the people, and on top, with a new political party. All in the name of The Mothers, and our platform is this:

1. Who are we disobeying? The corporate oligarchy, corrupt politicians, & mass media
2. What do we want? An end to the military industrial complex & corporate personhood
3. How will we get it? Sex strikes (at home, in porn, and on social media), boycotts of all but essential goods and services, and total divestment from Wall Street
4. Why? To save the world from the US Military Industrial Complex’s ongoing wars by proxy, by funding, and by the corporate enslavement of our foreign sisters and brothers, through modern satyagraha: a love-forward patriotic loyalty to the ideals of direct democracy & freedom; we are reclaiming the lives of our children and re-establishing a country for the people, by the people
5. Who are we? The Mothers for Independence, Love, and Freedom (because when they kneeled on the neck of our boy, “he called for his mother”)

While these morally-inspired strikes and boycotts, protests and divestments are being conducted by the people – not just the mothers and women, but the gays and theys, too, the marginalized and furious, the hungry-for-change, the People themselves – I will be raising funds and networking among the sympathetic elite to create a legal and official political party by the same name, “The Mothers for Independence, Love, and Freedom.” Together, we will build the vast framework necessary to legitimize and secure our place in a multi-party, post corporatocracy, United States of America.

      “’This is how the Industrial Revolution worked, Julie. People saw other people figuring out how to make things work and were inspired to try it themselves,’” Ishmael the gorilla said to his pupil in Quinn’s book. She replied, “’I think the biggest obstacle to all these things would be the government,’” to which the gorilla said, with all the calm assuredness of a six-hundred-pound talking animal, “’Of course, Julie. That’s what governments are there for, to keep good things from happening. But I’m afraid I have to say that if you can’t even manage to force your own presumably democratic governments to allow you to do good things for yourselves, then you probably deserve to become extinct.’”

            So, we will learn. We will learn from the successes and failures of those who tried before, and, like independent candidates Ron Paul and Bernie Sanders and parties like the broken but well-meaning Libertarians, The Mothers will focus on winning elections in meaningful municipalities in influential states, gaining power across all three branches of government. We will imitate Independents like Robert F. Kennedy Jr. by gaining the support of existing Political Action Committees (PACs) and Super PACs such as American Values 2024 (AVPAC), which focuses on lobbying states for easier ballot access for independent and multi-party candidates, and America’s Promise Super PAC, which proposes a new Constitutional Amendment to allow congressional and state-level oversight and limits on campaign spending, especially by foreign investments, as well as eliminating corporate personhood. Our early wins will be gained thanks to Fairvote Action PAC’s efforts to revive a direct democracy by eliminating the electoral college and spearheading voter reform policies like the ranked choice ballots that resulted in split electoral votes in both Maine and Nebraska. The Mothers will take over the swing states, gain millions of dollars of PAC, Super PAC, and Leadership PAC support (thanks to our sisters and misters engaged in the sex strikes and boycotts, applying pressure and making headlines) and, in short time, we will make sweeping changes by enacting legislation that lays to rest the bloody, weaponized corruption of revolving-door military regulation, self-enriching military contract awards, and opulent corporate influence.

            In the movie Chi-Raq, the women bonded together across party lines, across gang signs, across their own kitchen tables to stop the violence in their streets – Samuel L. Jackson’s character, Dolomedes, says, “Lysistrata had them all take a solemn oath: ‘Stop the murder madness, or there will be no more po.’ That’s right, you get none.”

            In another Chi-Raq scene, John Cusak’s character says, “The question remains: ‘Can your plan save us from us?’”

            Like Chicago-based characters in Chi-Raq, I grew up in the ghettos among gang violence and abject poverty that was intentionally created and supported by a historically corrupt American government of the few, for the few. Like Gandhi and King, Quinn and Aristophanes, I stand on moral high ground with one foot planted on the earth and the other in an ancient, transcendent spiritual philosophy. Like these brown and black sisters and brothers, I was not mentioned in the original constitution as a “People.” But, like them, I am a satyagrahi.

I am a Mother. I am an American. And, like famous comedian and social commentator Dave Chappelle reminded us all in his Netflix special 8:46, we watched an American uniformed ‘public servant’ kneel on a fellow American man’s neck in broad daylight, killing him on the street without cause or trial, and “He called for his mother.”

            We cannot fight hate with hate, King says, and he drives it home with a lesser-known quote, “Nonviolence not only means you refuse to shoot a man, but you refuse to hate him.” Through a two-pronged, love forward, feminine-led approach of revolution and reform, we can stop shooting and hating men. Through pointed lobbying, election to public office in the legislative and executive branches, mass boycotts, strikes, and protests, we can eliminate the outdated, elite-enriching, oligarchal corruption that parades as a democracy. We can end the military industrial complex, divest in massive weapons contracts, pull foreign and corporate dollars out of our campaign funds, and open the US stage to more parties, more people, and more direct representation. We can end corporate personhood, create a direct democracy, end the “two-party system” façade of elite corporate puppets, and build a new, love-forward America By All the People, For All the People.

Like my “interesting mix” of role models, I believe a better world is possible, but that the philosophy necessary to achieve it predates formative American political engineers like Thomas Hobbs and John Locke, who focused on reforming and controlling an already-commercialized world (as evidenced in their language about people’s rights to property or the need to defend against a ruling power), rather than philosophically allowing for the anthropological possibility of a world without a ruling power, without class division, and without war.

If you, the reader, like Julie in My Ishmael, are thinking “It almost sounds like you’re urging me to start a cult,” I will leave you with the gorilla’s message: “Open the prison gates and people will pour out. Build things people want and they’ll flock to them.” John Lennon echoed the sentiments of Gandhi and King, Chappelle and Quinn in his famous song Imagine, singing about a world with “nothing to kill or die for.”

I cannot promise that this plan will “save us from us,” but I can promise that, as a Mother, next time he calls my name, I will be there. You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. Someday, I hope you’ll join us, and the world will live as one. (Lennon)

Anyone else sick to death of hearing me lament my own depression? Last time I wrote about it, I said something saturated with fatalism about how neither “fix your life, fix your mind” nor “fix your mind, fix your life” were true. But, as time passed with mounting triggers and a total absence of crutches, I realized that I do do a hell of a lot to fix both my mind and life – and then it gradually dawned on me that my “hell of a lot” is making a hell of a difference.

I’ve been crazy my entire life, but I have also been awake the whole time. When people ask, “when did you have your spiritual awakening?” I reply, “I never fell asleep.” My crazy is the result of trauma (not the trendy kind, the clinical kind. I am a 9/10, sometimes a 10/10 depending on how I classify my mom’s jail time, on the ACEs scale of “adverse childhood experiences”) and tradition, passed through generations like a curse.

The first time I admitted I was really, really sick was when I also admitted myself to a psychiatric ward in a Minneapolis hospital. A few days under lock and key, swallowing prescriptions like a good little numb girl, cohabitating with the criminally insane were enough to solidify my boundaries. I would NEVER go back, but I would go forward. I would carry on. I would figure it out. On my own.

That was almost twenty years ago and I am half-shocked to report that whatever I’ve been doing has worked to keep me out of hospitals and graveyards. Now, I even stay out of the bar scene, off of dating apps, and in my own lane.

This is not medical advice. I’m not a doctor. I don’t even really agree with or “like” doctors, if I’m being transparent. So don’t quote me, don’t sue me, don’t blame me for your symptoms or treatment plan or literally anything else. I’m just a woman sharing my own approach to keeping my own self relatively fine.

So here’s what I do. First of all, when nothing else is working and I completely lose my will to function, or when I fall so far down “The Cave” that I am about to become nonfunctional, I rely on marijuana to pull myself back to numb/positive. Most of my life, this has been illegal and difficult to self-regulate, and the societally-induced shame of it coupled with my early life addict-caused-trauma eventually sends me into its own tailspin of guilt and self-blame. It has also proven to be the single most effective, fast-acting, long lasting, reliable mental health drug by far – no comparison – that I have ever tried. Simply put, pot works. It works immediately, and well, and has virtually no negative side effects other than those self-imposed judgements. That distinct mental fuzziness is not what I would call a drawback; in fact, it is that very softening, the blurring of the sharp lines of mental anguish, the quieting of the SCREAMING in my head, that I am after when I light or eat the medicine.

Unfortunately, over time, the mental fuzz becomes an impediment to my ambitious nature, and I make myself put it down. Typically, I am able to use cannabis as a return to self-love and symptom-tolerance, then ease back into my “hell of a lot” of other self-regulation and coping habits so that I am once again safe enough in my mind and body to function without the “crutch” of medicine. Again – I am not “recommending” this or anything else.

So here I sit, crutchless, writing about how I manage. Triggers come whether invited or not. My first reaction tends to be boundaries, which are by definition personal protective devices over which we have exclusive control. Nobody can violate a boundary, because it is not theirs to enforce. The boundary says, “I no longer allow this.” Triggers don’t ask permission to knock on the boundary wall, though. They just arrive to be dealt with or succumbed to.

Sometimes, I can feel the cortisol in my blood like a sickness, like old alcohol or a bad drug coursing through my veins with velocity enough to burst. Movement is the only answer to this symptom – to adrenaline sickness, I sometimes call it. Dance, running, hauling ass up and over as many mountains as I can find in a day, literally setting stuff on fire and swirling it around my body (“firedancing,” I’m not an arsonist any more than I’m a doctor, geez people), any intense movement will do to leak out the stress chemicals.

Other times, I feel so heavy with apathetic loathing I can feel myself shrinking and withering. This shows on my face in deep creases between my brows, weighs on my shoulders to change my posture, shrinks my body to skin covered bones, turns my eyes inky black. This is “The Cave.” Depression is not sadness; in sadness, we care – we grieve, we love, we miss, we long. In depression, there is simply Dark Nothing that sounds like empty, voiceless screaming. It is the liminal space of regret dripping from hollow crags where feeling ought to be, dampening any remembrance of desire. One does not want to end up in The Cave, as it is entirely too easy to lose one’s way . . . and the fear of never getting out is as thick as the darkness itself.

I avoid The Cave, because I cannot move through it like the other sicknesses.

How? Primarily by recognizing the path that leads me there in the first place and then stepping away from it with gusto. It has taken me twenty years to identify the markers on the way to The Cave, but I have managed to compile some of my own warning signs here and in other writings: the “adrenaline sickness” itself is a warning that The Cave is looming on my horizon if I do not change course. Drastic changes in my sleep and dreams, changes in my eating desires and habits, self-isolation, weight loss, waning desire to engage in healthy habits, and considering or favoring destructive behaviors are all trail markers on the way to The Cave. I know it’s close when thoughts of suicide begin to scream, when I can’t close my eyes without vividly imagining my own death, when my internal narrative becomes aggressive TV static and high pitched self-hatred.

I need to know the trail markings. Knowing them saves me. Sometimes, the apathy monster is stronger than the adrenaline sickness, though, which requires an enormous burst of spiritual strength to change course.

Spirituality is my default setting, thankfully. God always comes to get me in the most literal sense –like the two times I drowned and was saved, or when I escaped the actual fire my mother started, or how the wife of my rapist showed up right before he penetrated me in that homeless shelter, or how the first reiki master I ever met was at that psych ward volunteering the day I self-admitted. Sunshine falling onto my face to dry my tears, the voice of Rumi or Mary Oliver seeping into the static, someone else who needs me more than I hate me . . . this, and other forms that “god” takes.

I’ve learned to grasp that golden thread like the lifeline it is, allowing it to light up any something I can hold onto, allowing myself to be held and seen by something I can neither touch nor define, until the part of me that is also god remembers itself and wants to live.

And all of this is enormously heavy and poetic and not at all a list of the hell of a lot of things I really do to stay just the sane side of crazy. I’m not entirely sane at all, or even a little, really. But I do do stuff – a lot of stuff – to keep myself out of hospitals and psychiatrist’s offices, and I will list that stuff now. Now that you, the reader, know that I really do know what it’s like inside The Cave. Ya know? You do know.

I wrote an entire book about coming to terms with “my darkness” and dismantling the wall I had built around my heart. In short, what it looked like was unpacking my trauma (again, clinical, not trendy) and intentionally healing it through various rites, rituals, and rigors. I did a lot of this while living on a tropical island, which was very nice.

Once I had wrapped myself around the idea of being a healed adult, I had to create a life that looked like one I imagined a healed adult would live. This takes considerably more work, and I . . . have a long way to go. *laughs in midlife crisis*

Drinking enough water – and only water is water, tea is not water, soda is not water, Gatorade is not water, coffee is not water – is the most underestimated and important thing I do on a daily basis to stay less crazy. When I don’t drink enough water, I am way less stable. Sometimes, I realize the filtered water I’ve been drinking doesn’t feel … watery? enough . . . and I splurge on expensive water and instantly feel better. I’m not a scientist but it works.

Healthy eating means ignoring everything the FDA has ever said and turning to farmers and medicine women, instead. High quality red meat and sweet potatoes are almost as euphoria-inducing as a giant marijuana bong hit, with longer lasting effects and zero mental fuzz. Cashews and pistachios are the mood-boosting equivalent of Prozac (that one is science for real). Freshly juiced fruits and veggies consumed within 15 minutes are basically orgasmic, and don’t even get me started on fresh ginger root to absolute excess. Add local honey and maple syrup and she’s a very happy girl.

Exercise used to be a dirty word to me, but with the discovery of yoga it became a daily drug, then habit, and now lifestyle. Combining movement with intentional breathwork and a truly devoted meditation practice has absolutely saved my life. I am home on my mat, in the curated silence of my mind or the rhythmic waves of my own chanting voice akin to the way that god herself feels when she wraps me in her grace. Weight lifting and cardio bursts are like mood and immune medicine, and my love of hiking/running mountains has transformed my self-perception and all-season enjoyment.

Sunshine is a form of god and must be purposefully basked in on a near-daily basis.

While I’d love to say I rely on close personal friendships and relationships in place of talk-therapy, and I can say that I do attempt to foster such outlets, it is also true that relying on the company of others has sent me spiraling into The Cave with equally destructive force as devastating loneliness. When friends and loved ones are available, I do confide and find comfort in them, but the fuller truth is that I primarily walk my path in solitude. This is something I deeply desire to change.

Supplements, such as THC/maryjane/cannabis/the pots, have been life rafts in turbulent waters. When I’m choosing not to use the aforementioned crutch, such as right now and anytime I plan to be a high achiever (pun definitely not intended), I need to amp up the “other stuff.” In the winter, when sunshine is scarce, I take the maximum daily dose of vitamin D (10,000 ieus). All year long, I take a multi-vitamin and eat an organic, non-GMO, minimally-processed diet rich in herbs, vitamins, and minerals. I have kava kava tincture on hand for severe anxiety attacks, though I tend not to use it liberally or for long periods of time.

Identifying and venting my thoughts is paramount to controlling the dangerous mental chatter that results in the mania or depression – we call this rewiring, mindfulness, positive self-talk, and many other things. What I do NOT do is spiritually bypass, blame others, blame shift, ignore my symptoms, pretend I’m fine, lie to myself (or anyone else), ignore triggers, stifle my need to express, lash out in anger, or self-sabotage. I own my shit and give it a window to escape. I take full responsibility for my thoughts, words, actions, and habits. I set boundaries that I can control and enforce them even when it hurts. I’ve gotten a lot better at this over time, with age and experience, and – honestly – after I stopped drinking any amount of alcohol.

Who I surround myself with matters, too. I choose not to engage in “situationships,” romantically or otherwise. I seek genuine, reciprocal, fulfilling and inspiring relationships and cultivate a sense of enthusiastic self-love. I don’t do casual sex, I don’t hang out with people who bum me out, and I don’t feel the need to contort myself to fit into societal boxes. I embrace my singlehood and have no expiration date on my personal worth, values, desires, or vision. In yoga, we call this brahmacharya, or conservation of life force energy, and it has helped me strengthen my own inner wellspring by not pouring into people incapable of, (or unwilling to) return my energy. Learning about divine sexuality has healed and empowered me to own my desires and keep safe my own longings. Ecstatic bliss or nothing at all for me, thanks. That being said – self-pleasure does matter and I notice a stark difference in symptoms (mental health and even physically around moon blood time) when I get lazy about expressing and enjoying my own sexuality.

A close friend recently said, “yeah but you do infinity things [to treat your mental health],” when I said I’m “unmedicated.” She’s right. I don’t use “medication” in the American form of the word, but I do do infinity things – a hell of a lot of things – to cultivate my own holistic health and stay as far away from The fucking Cave as possible.

If I do get stuck in The Cave someday? I have an emergency plan that those close and capable know, and it does not involve emergency rooms or psych wards. Instead, it involves more of the above, under the supervision of professionals who can keep me alive if I decide I’m not worth doing it for myself. May god always show up with her golden threads and keep me from that moment, though. In whatever form She takes.

“Fix your mind, fix your life” is something that was maybe true when the dimensional reality in which we’ve incarnated wasn’t recalibrating itself . . . there is something to be said, in another post on another day, about this time in place and the holographic hellscape we pretend is normal – and about how there is no way to not be crazy in a crazy world.

I’m no doctor and I’m not NOT crazy, but I am getting more and more surefooted the longer I stay off of my crutches, aware of and away from The cave, with my eyes turned toward the sun.

May this, and all my words, be of service. May all beings be safe. May we be joyful. May we be peaceful. May we be well.