Over six months ago now, I confessed to my former teacher, a profoundly inspiring woman I will never stop appreciating, Katherine Woodward, my anger–no, much more than anger–I expressed my all-encompassing outrage at the Truths I had uncovered over the year since her Leadership program.
She did not deny these truths, she did not judge my outrage, she sympathized with me in a brief sentence, and then said, “Look for the light.”
It sounds like more New Age hype, but I suppose that was enough for me, as deep as I was in the Rabbit Hole, feeling as alone as a woman in the SHU. I did not lose my outrage, and I hope I never will, but I kept my eyes focused for any ray that might penetrate the depths. I found another teacher or two, not necessarily emotionally inspiring, but still, a few intellectual straws to keep me breathing in the tunnel, enough at least to keep me fighting.
What regret I’ve felt, in those moments between breathes. In this hole I’ve managed to alienate everyone I know, friends and family and even those few reliable readers who looked to this blog for homesteading inspiration, not outrageous conspiracy.
But once one knows, one cannot un-know, and anyone who can manage that is either a willful collaborator or beyond any scope of rationality. I had never been one for community before moving to the country, but I gave it a sincere shot for several years–with Feminine Power and with the Master Gardeners–until it was painfully clear that where I am, they have no interest in being, or even remotely supporting, and never will.
Still, I never forget a good lesson, and so I continue to hear the words, “Look for the light.” And when I look now I see a vast sea of young men, 20 years my junior, in the courses that I teach and in the new community that I frequent, and I admire them, though it seems few others do.
They complain about living in their mothers’ basements, about not being able to find good women or good jobs, about the reality of a country they’d rather hide from in a state of perpetual adolescence playing video games while at least steadfastly refusing to participate in the corrupted system that’s gotten them into this mess.
We can’t even call them the latest counter-culture, because they resist any form of organization whatsoever–they may call themselves modern philosophers, or anarchists, or sovereigns, or nihilists, but no matter the name, they are beyond the Statist materialistic hype our culture is still dead-set on forcing down their throats.
Arrested development, no doubt. But it started several generations ago. At least now they admit, unlike their 40-something parents, and their now elderly grandparents, that the system set them up for failure. So dutifully, they align with their inevitable failure. They don’t pretend, as the older generations do, that nothing’s wrong even as the contrary truth gushes from the world around them. They are accustomed to their virtual reality and prefer it there, and I can certainly understand that.
The foolish few buy the cheesy new feminized masculinity sold in the form of such insanity as “Broneys,” My Little Ponies for semi-adult men, just like their Japanese cartoon counterparts. The Fascist State is ever the excellent salesman. They won’t be happy until every man, woman and child is under their so-called protective care and will use whatever propaganda necessary to keep the population from reaching any advanced stage of emotional and intellectual maturity.
Yes, I see and admit easily, in my case, it is the old adage that’s trapped me more than once: Curiosity Killed the Cat. I looked for the hell I found and I can’t blame the rest of my age and class for refusing to look at all.
Though make no mistake, I can still see the light. But I see it not in the New Age gurus telling us all to focus on happiness and possibility, and certainly not in the Statist hype that cries “Yes! There is still milk in this tit!”
I see it only in those nihilistic and apathetic young men, who in their violent games and eternal state of adolescence will show the State, and the women, once and for all, we will not participate in this charade of a life, no matter with what gifts or punishments you continue to try to manipulate us.
Touché brothers, you are on the only track, and while we may still be few, at least we can be sure they will not survive long without us, no matter what they think. And at this moment, I’d say that’s worth all the rice in China.