Rage, rage against the dying of the light

It is the curse of most modern humans to waste the time in the day when they are most clear minded, when they have the most drive, mental, spiritual, and physical energy. It is often wasted in empty tasks where they use only a fraction of their full selves in repetitive, rarely challenging, physically confined activities. Dulling their senses, undermining their spirit, damaging their bodies to provide false value that is then traded for things to try and add a spark to their reality, to liven up their spirit, to relieve the pain in their underused and fading bodies.

We are in a cyclical trap of drudgery that smothers what would truly make us happy; the simple ability to decide when and where we do anything; to do nothing and be at peace with it, to notice time as it should be noticed, to follow curious whimsy.

I haven't been able to find the words to say how much rage I feel. How much of our reality is rejected by the thing that I am; how I feel inept, helpless, incapable. Because there is nothing I can do to pull anyone that I love from this reality beyond fever dreams where I win an ungodly amount of money.

Though I can't free them, this blog will document my attempts at escaping my own prison. I'm leaving most of society behind and heading to the woods that grace the oldest mountains on earth.

I'll be recording myself as I build my workshop, garden, and house. I'll write my thoughts and feelings as often as possible as I transition out of the world of work and our manufactured reality to where us human animals belong. Surrounded by nature, with my bare feet in the grass, using my hands to make things, to grow things, to revel in my consciousness, and dedicate myself to myself.