JUD – Justice Under Democracy

If you lived in San Francisco between 1971 and 1991, you might find a free newspaper around town called the Utopian Classroom, which was published by a group of Haight/Asbury artists called Keristans. I was one of the last generation of the Kerista tribe for the final five years it existed. A very big man, and a very big influence on a very big chapter of my life, meet the late JUD Presmont, the Founder of Kerista Commune.

I joined Kerista, a group living experiment affectionately known by the members as a “hippie sex cult” in 1986. JUD was 63. There is much to say about Kerista, thus the link above, but for now my focus is on a few stories about me and JUD. My father was one of many men both pissed and fascinated by the way this aging hippie/swinger/ “cult leader” was able to seduce young women well into his senior years. As we would lie in bed after an orgasm, he liked to say that sex was the greatest mystery. At the time, I thought he meant something cosmic, but now I suspect he was marveling at his own ability to sleep with a new twenty something woman as fat old man over sixty. He described our “intentional community” as a “scene” that did the work to bring in the right people. He described many a person and their pet beliefs and theories as spouting “a rap to get laid.” He meant it as both a dismissal and a compliment.

Keristans were in the business of selling their utopian lifestyle to people who thought they might be a good fit. Group living, lots of sex, high ideals, voluntary surplus income sharing, all laid out in their social contract, the “Blueprint for Heaven on Earth.” These ideas had been honed over 40 years of lifestyle experimentation by JUD and various incarnations of the Kerista tribe by the time I discovered them in 1986. Robert Anton Wilson had written a piece on Kerista in the sixties in New York when Jud was a bohemian in Soho, and came again to interview JUD and the Keristans while I was a member in San Francisco in the eighties. This scene had roots! There were chapters before my time that connected with other well known icons, scenes/cults, including Dau Free John and Ishvara of Harbin Hot Springs, the much beloved clothing optional resort in Middletown, Ca.  Keristans loved to have naked dance parties at Harbin, and JUD had supported Ishvara in early legal challenges involving the ownership rights of the Harbin volunteers and stakeholders.

As younger men living on Dominica Island, JUD and Dau were peers and friends, both interested in better living through intentional community. As happened often in his life, Jud’s cantankerous personality ultimately led to a breakdown in the friendship. He liked to tell the story of their last heated encounter.  “If you are actually a divine guru, then you don’t need me to believe in you, and if you are not, then go fuck yourself” is a quote I heard many times as brother JUD reminisced.

In five years of life with Brother JUD and the Keristans, I mastered the martial art of bullshit detection, and that has often served me well in life. The tribe practiced a flavor of confrontational conflict resolution called “Gestalt-O-Rama” which might pass for abuse in the molly-coddled modern era. At the time, however, it seemed very Yiddish to me, well intentioned if not polite, and compatible with the brutally honest, angry and acerbic Italian culture of my family. I embraced the power of direct psychological probing with a passion, and learned to cut to the chase when issues came up.

I remember the feeling of having my beliefs challenged the first time I met with Keristans. When I was invited to meet a group of commune members at the weekly “Growth Coop” rap group, I faced questions that urged me to take a stand and define my values. A physical sensation which I usually describe as cottage cheese in my forehead revealed to me that my thoughts were unclear, and full of contradictions. In a  fog brained encounter I can partly remember, it seemed like a friendly conversation became awkward, but I did not understand why.  This was the beginning of a life full of lessons in self actualization, as I began  to identify my own patterns of defensiveness in a situation designed to test my confidence and challenge  my beliefs.

Long story short, at the Growth Coop, the routine was to ask people to read the social contract, and if they agreed with everything, then offer  a chance to give the Keristan lifestyle a try. If there were no “contradictions” then there should be no problems, and we could all celebrate finding that rarest of treasures, a new member of the commune.

When quizzed by the members of what would become my very own sex cult, I thought the ideal life for me would be as a single mom in a collective lifestyle that included other single moms, and as an afterthought, also a community of people of all ages. The fog started rolling into my brain when I said something about people of all ages. Agism was one of the taboos in the Keristan social contract. Looking back, I imagine it was JUD’s idea to make Agism taboo, so he could benefit from the natural horniness of the new young members interested in the tribe.

But inside my cranium, the real reason for the fog was the many competing and contradictory beliefs in my young mind about serious subjects like sex, parenting, love, abandonment, and a host of other submerged passions, fears, and disappointments. Lots of unconscious thoughts and their associated sub-personalities woke up when a few polite beliefs were challenged.

I was interested in Kerista because I was wounded in the traditional family values department. My parents divorce had left me sour on the idea of lifetime marriage, and my encounters with boyfriends left me feeling I would be better off on my own than partnering with a man to start my family.  As a woman, I felt destined to have a child… especially since getting pregnant was pretty much the main reason for sex, biologically that is. Catholic roots, as well as scientific surrender to the facts still leads me to this belief.

One of Kerista’s bumper stickers bragged that we were “Horny as a Keristan.”  There was no shame about enjoying a good orgasm in this cult. I liked to call it the “Church of the Big O.” We were “Monks and/or Nuns in Paradise” and our religion was expressed in the Far Out West comics drawn by the amazing and wonderful Keristan artist, Even Eve. Perfect for me, a cult of genuine idealists with a rye sense of humor.

Polyfidelity and Compersion are two words invented by the commune to explain that the new family structure was both non-monogamous, and committed. My era in the commune was at the dawn of the aids crisis, which more than anything can be credited with putting brakes on the post sixties free love revolution. In the confusing aftermath of the sixties, women my age thought they could “have it all.” The sexual freedom and independence enjoyed by men, plus the economic status and financial equality of a well paid full time job.

Women of my generation received the gift of RoeVWade and legal birth control at the blossoming of their age of consent. They delayed becoming young mothers so the could “have it all.” We had not quite realized yet that raising children was a full time job, and that money was something people could never get enough of, and would soak up all time not otherwise committed.

At Jud’s suggestion, the Keristans were willing to grant me an exception to the “voluntary childlessness” item in the social contract if I joined and remained a member for five years. Ironic how the whole thing fell apart just as I met the five year mark.

In short, it was a very confusing time. Personal independence, self worth and self expression, sexual identity, partnership, and ideas of future parenting were all deeply intertwined, and poorly understood. I secretly believed that society was offering me a raw deal, with too little incentive to carry the lion’s share of the burden of raising the next generation without enough security or rewards. Thus, the appeal of communal living with kindred single moms!

Lets unpack that young woman’s belief system a little more.

As a liberated, self-supporting woman, I embraced my sexuality as freedom, adulthood, and self expression. Having all sisters and no brothers growing up, and a dad who divorced and practically disappeared from my life when I was 15, I did not know much of the world of men. I lacked preconceptions and experience regarding their agenda’s, wiring, cliches—all things I have many more opinions about today.

At that time, I was all about discovering my own inner landscape, my own sexual identity. It did not occur to me that I was an innocent, and that my inexperience would be easy for a more mature person to manipulate. I felt like I was in charge, except for the fact that I had no experience to anticipate the consequences of my choices.

I did not have to account to anyone except myself for my choices. I did not share my unconventional beliefs with my mother, which in hindsight led to many avoidable tragedies. Yet, at the time, it was my parent’s and their discarded catholic programming of my conscience that I did not trust, because it was formed by my someone else’s expectations. I had committed myself to taking responsibility in a world I believed my parents did not understand. . I suspended self judgment in order to surrender to new experiences, to gain my own experience and awareness. In the end, I can say that was a valuable journey, though in hindsight, there are bridges I would have crossed instead of burned, and that might have made the journey easier and less painful for myself and others.

OK, so I guess this is not quite about JUD yet. It’s still all about me. The thing is, that JUD was not afraid to point out contradictions in one’s beliefs, and that very fact could unravel years of personality accumulation. As people met their disconnected subpersonalities, they might become defensive, combatant, teary, or any combination of unstable and vulnerable. So, needless to say, it could be dicey. The journey did have its own rewards however. As JUD often liked to say, The Truth will set you free… but first it will make you squirm. I would say, that is the secret of bullshit detection. When you feel that foggy head from all those competing beliefs, its time to admit there are obstacles to knowing the truth. And slow down. There is time…take it step by step, and make choices that will clear up the confusion. Just aim for the high ground, and surrender what you don’t really want to bring with you.

That’s all for now. Lots to unpack.

Day One – A Writer Writes

Just yesterday we began the challenge. My beloved and I started to make a list of all the stories we could tell about ourselves, our friends, our past, and so much unknown history about the weird new normal times we live. The challenge was posed by Nick Almighty, arguably the most famous of our besties. He was pondering Jack Kerouac as one of the great writers of his age because he wrote true tales about the most interesting icons of his personal history. We and our friends are way more interesting, and way more involved in living and shaping the evolutionary history of the pre-millenium. We are old enough to look back on our years, and note the unexpected changes that defined our lifetimes…We sowed and hoed the fertile ground of cultural, techno, sexual, and shamanic experiences that shifted the California people of the left coast, and eventually the whole planet earth, to the new mutated history of life that we now leave for future generations to inherit and interpret.

Where to begin?

There are too many characters to introduce all at once.
Perhaps a definition:
synectics[ si-nek-tiks ]
noun (used with a singular verb)
the study of creative processes, especially as applied to the solution of problems by a group of diverse individuals.

That’s nerdy enough. Interesting, but not quite the romantic tragic comedy I am looking to describe.
People of my kind have been called many things during this age of branding and marketing. Too late to be a Boomer, too early for GenX, I am officially a “Lostie” from that generation between the Vietnam draft dodgers and the Me Generation of Latchkey kids with career and “liberated” single Moms. My peers span the WWII “Best Generation” of my husband’s parents era to the late blooming moms who chose to have kids in their forties, most of them living with or married to “second wife” dads.

Nerds and feminists, yuppies, rainbows, and LGBTQX all gained visibility and respect on my watch, but I still don’t know how to label myself. New Age Goddess, Evolutionary Agent, TechnoShaman, Cyberhippie, Cultural Creative… these are some of the monikers I might consider printing on a round of my conscious entrepreneur business cards, or Computer Graphic Artist, Video Producer, Radio Talk Host if I hope to appeal to people with wallets. As 2020 approaches, thought leaders say that Activism is the defining quality of youth today, but I hardly keep up with that chapter of political activism, being a victim of white priveledge that damages my progressive credentials, despite my empathetic and fair minded heart.

I am a throwback since I retired because I am not a slave to my smart phone, my calendar, or my social network. This does tend to be a bit isolating, however, since my friends live lives that scream “Be Here Now” on a psychedelic book cover which disguises their calendar of commitments for the next three to six months. For me, except for a handful of family birthdays and Thanksgiving holidays, the year is basically clear of saved dates. The only pulse in my week is the FUTURE TUESDAY radio show I do with my husband. And the days are pulsed with inefficiently enjoyed reading and online games, meals, housework, shopping, and cooking. So far, we have savings, investments and income that brings in more than we need to pay the modest bills, but the stats on inflation make it impossible to relax and assume this will always be true in the future. For the most part, finances, taxes and insurance are on autopilot, requiring the monthly tally and annual overview at year end. We live healthy and plan to live quite a few more decades, if not somehow making through to the promised singularity where everyone lives as long as they like, which has always been predicted to be in about thirty years by that sage of longevity, Ray Kurzweil.

So, there should be time to write a little chapter of look back everyday. That is the challenge. Here we begin.

 

Stillness

What my friend Ashoka says is true. STILLNESS is underrated.

I mean, what is the SOUND of one hand clapping? Ever thought about that?
All you lovely people are paying attention to this person at the microphone, and you are expecting something, right? You are expecting me to tell a story, or share a song so you can sing along. Something we can do together, that makes us feel a part of something bigger than ourselves.
You are out there, I am up here, and we are all … ANTICIPATING…
And I know that if I say NOTHING… WAIT FOR IT…
That is going to create a reaction in each of you. At first you might not notice, but then you WILL notice.
Your head is FULL of thoughts!
That is the POWER of STILLNESS. It fills an empty space.
It’s the sound of WAITING, and WATCHING
For A WHALE on the horizon where the sky meets the line of the sea
And that vast empty ocean is full of life
But it’s invisible. It’s out of sight. But we know it is there, we just have to
WAIT FOR IT…
Thank you, Thank you all you backstage drivers. You hecklers and want to be movie stars… 
Thank you for filling that empty void. We all felt relief when you broke the silence. It was uncomfortable.
Thank you all so much for being so anxious to fill the empty space with some vibration other than…
A PREGNANT PAUSE…
You saved us all from having those loud annoying questions rattling around in our brains
Is it my turn to speak? Is it time to clap? With one hand maybe? What’s next? 
I know it was uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I took you by surprise. So this time I will warn you.
There is a WHOLE LOT OF STILLNESS coming up fast. I want you to WAIT FOR IT…
What do you think is the longest time that we can go in STILLNESS?
It is underrated because It’s a waste of time, right?
Do you feel trapped? Do you want to check your cell phone now that there is some free time?
Do you find your checklist filling up your mind?
Just stay with me a little bit longer, ok? Let’s all take a deep breath. MIME
[POINT TO CHIN AND LOOK UP, QUESTIONING]
[POINT TO EAR AND INVITE ALL TO LISTEN]
[POINT TO MEMBERS OF AUDIENCE AND ASK QUESTIONS WITH SILENT EXPRESSIONS]
[SMILE TO ASK “HAPPY” THEN FROWN TO ASK “SAD”]
[WIPE BROW IN RELIEF]
[SMELL SOMETHING WONDERFUL]
Did you like that? 
Have we lost something beautiful here in 2019?
Do you remember to enjoy the peace of an unscheduled moment?
Can you hear a quiet thought all by yourself in a busy room full of strangers?
The secret is STILLNESS. It’s always right there. Right here. Everywhere!
It is the default, the autopilot unfolding perfectly as it should,
unhurried and unworried. And all you have to do…
is (All together now)
WAIT FOR IT!

Wordless Vision

I suddenly understand the nature of being, the secret of consciousness, the story of time. So there is nothing left to say and no one to say it to.

And yet, each day for more than 50 years I awoke not knowing this, and lived my life full of feelings, emotions, memories, and stories.

Just this morning, I noticed my mind dreaming, making stories. I noticed the stories came from my feelings. My feelings came from my thoughts. My thoughts came from all over the universe. They came from the past, as early as yesterday and as long ago as infinity, with many many mini lives lived by me in between. They came from the last dream I had just before this first moment of awakening, where I, still the silent witness of fast flowing consciousness sensed for the first time my own eye, so shy, so humble, so ubiquitous, so invisible. So free, cannot even be captured by the loving self of memory. Who is this DIVINE EYE?

This invisible watcher I now know, and just met, is always probing the known universe, reaching with senses into a vastness of creation, the treasures of reality created before this first moment.

The all is everywhere, but when you look back at everything, it isn’t there. I can’t see the forest in the tree. That is the smallness of being me.

A gift that doesn’t fit

Only keep the things that Spark JOY! I tell myself as I stare at my cluttered closet. It’s time for spring cleaning. Where to begin?

(Blow the dust off and cough! Then smell the scented soap.)

This scented soap is from my friends who got married. It is Engraved with their names and given away at their wedding. I missed the wedding, so they gave it to me for Christmas. I guess they had extras. I am going to SPARK SOME JOY and pass this gift on to my friend who Always gifts people with scented soap.  THANK YOU Scented soaps!

What else can I get rid of here. What about this RugDoctor? This HUGE BOX was a present from my husband.  I ASKED him to clean up after he spilled a Kombucha on the white carpet. He tells ME this “ROBOT” will take care of it. I am STILL waiting for him to take it out of the box and use it. HE is still waiting for ME to train his ROBOT to clean up the MESS! This does NOT SPARK MY JOY, honey.  I want you and your robot to finish the job. I am taking it out of the closet. THANK YOU Rug Doctor!

Oh boy. Look at this coat. Let me tell you about this gift from my StepMom. It was a Christmas present that arrived in February. She transposed the zip code, so it arrived for Chinese New Year instead. I have heard that Chinese people believe you should never open a present in front of the person who gave it to you. It’s a good thing she was’t here when I opened the box, because I took one look at it and  I wanted to put it back in the box and wrap it up for someone else. REALLY? Is THIS how I DRESS? Is this how you think I dress?

There  was a time when I might have been delighted to go out in public dressed like this.  Right now, it is definitely a test for my comfort zone. These bright colors feel like they are calling attention to my grey hairs, and wrinkles, and the twenty extra pounds I have gained since I was a teenager. When I opened this gift, it made me feel like I am getting too old for presents!

I did NOT feel any spark of joy, at first. But then, I noticed another gift my friends got for me, these batik pants I am wearing.  It took me awhile to notice, but  I held the coat up with the pants…and Voila. A perfect match!  Wow. Hmm.

I am seeing a pattern here. Instead of giving the trippy coat away, I decide to stroll around town all dressed up this way. I am feeling a full range of emotions now, from proud to paranoid, and from guilt to gutsy.

I guess people really see me this way… kind of colorful, young at heart, with the fashion sense of a flower child! It’s sweet. I am definitely getting some personal growth out of these gifts.People smile when they see me wearing this. Strangers stop me as they open the door and tell me how much they appreciate this coat, and I see them imagine themselves wearing something just as wacky.  The security check guard at Cirq du Soleil forgot to check my bag for a firearm and just waved me thru!

You know what, I think I actually Love these clothes. You know why? Because  I love the way people respond to me when I wear them. I love the way I feel very loved in these duds, and I love the people who gave me these gifts, and the zany happy way they must be SEEING me.

Spark of Joy,! I guess I can wear this and feel like I am the gift! THANK YOU happy coat! I am GLAD to keep you!

 

manamowomanam evolove womanamow

Thoughts are everywhere.
Thoughts are everything.
What does it matter?
What does matter?

Ancient wisdom keepers know
and show us what has always been.
There is always one infinite ocean
frothing, foaming, filling the
vast infinity of mostly empty space
with the chaos of change,
with the chronos of time,
with the aether of union
And then, one aha moment, LET THERE BE LIGHT,
the great mother and father striving to create
a life of matter worthy of immortality.

filled only with light dancing slowly
speaking quickly
living at the speed of thought

Getting Gifting

Birthdays and holidays come around every year, But, do you ever feel a little awkward when it comes to getting gifts?

Yesterday, a girlfriend called to invite me and my husband to celebrate her birthday with a few friends, drinks, dancing. For a last minute gift,  I look in the closet,  hoping to grab the perfect gift from a shelf where I collect things for just this sort of occasion.

I originally started this collection when I was Chrismas shopping in July at a music festival. Cool stuff and good deals, thought I would  pick up a few gifts for uncertain recipients, maybe keep one for myself, maybe  take some pressure off when dealing with the inevitable upcoming holiday or birthday. All that  I am finding here are things that other people got for me. Uh Oh, No hidden treasures…  The only gifts here are the ones that everybody gets when somebody does not know what to give them.

There are a few scented soaps to choose from, one of them custom engraved with the names of the couple who got married. I missed the wedding, but they gave me these soaps for Christmas. I guess they had extras. (smell it.) Um, maybe not. Why do people always give me soap? No, I am not going to take it personally. Some people just LOVE scented soaps. I can give all of these to my girlfriend who always gives everybody soap. She LOVES this stuff.

There’s also these scented candles – I don’t use candles much, but I did like the one Day of The Dead Altar candle with a picture of Jesus with the Dinosaurs. I already gave that one away, though. What about this bag of philanthropic flat bread flour – a charity door prize from an Indigenous People’s fund raiser attended by my sister. I hope you are not listening, honey, but I am gluten free, and I have no idea what to do with this gift.

They always say that you can give a gift to someone if you would like to get it yourself. I am not sure that formula is working for me. Or rather, I question whether these gifts that were given to me were ever gifts that the giver would have gotten for themselves. More likely, they, like me, got these gifts from someone with no idea what might be appreciated, so they passed it on to me straight from their own gift giveaway bag.

This gift thing is complicated. I remember I was so traumatized as a teenager when I asked my parents for a Futon, and got a folding foam chair instead. I’m thinking of this incredible Japanese quilted bed I had seen, and instead I got this huge wrapped present of the wrong thing. When I opened it, I just didn’t know how to fake my emotions. I  felt terrible because I was SO disappointed, and even more terrible  because my Dad had really tried hard to honor my wish!

Do not expect other people to see things through your eyes! I mean really, WHY did I expect my Dad to know? This guy gets me a pet rock, and a book of Big Mac coupons from MacDonalds for Christmas. Dad, rest in peace, but you sure helped me  lower my expectations.

I guess that futon thing  started a familiar pattern where I feel guilty when I get a gift I don’t really like. I just don’t know what to say. Hate hurting people’s feelings. It’s really hard around my birthday. I just feel like hiding. I tell people “your presence is my present! and I mean it! I love it if someone sings me a song, but if they put a poem in a birthday card, half the time I can’t read the handwriting, and the rest of the time I can’t find my reading glasses. I have to admit, I think I am really bad at the art of receiving.

You know, I have heard that in China, people do not open presents in the presence of the person who gave it to them. I should really start doing that.I am so glad my step mom did not see me open her last present to me.  It was right around Chinese New Year that a gift arrives in the mail. I look at the address. She got the zip code wrong, so even though she sent it in December, it arrives in February. I open the box, and inside is this rainbow jacket – this coat of every color you might find in a crayon box. Really? Do I dress like this? I mean, do you THINK I dress like this?

I resist the instinct to put the new coat back and rewrap the box. But first, I put this coat next to a pair of batik pants and a fringed shirt that some other friends got for me on some other occasion. Its sweet that they think of me when they are out shopping for festival clothes.  Interesting how well this coat gift matches this other rainbow outfit. I see a pattern here.  I guess people really see me this way… sort of young at heart. Bright colors and the fashion sense of a flower child.

I decide to try on all these clothes, and wallah!. It looks like my friends and my stepmom went shopping together! I look for  my reading glasses and  when I find them, I look at my 57 year old self in the mirror. These  clothes of a teenager feel to me like they are  calling attention to my grey hairs, wrinkles, and the extra twenty pounds I have gained since I was in my twenties. There was a time when I might have been proud to go out in public dressed like this. Right now, it is definitely  a test for my comfort zone. I hope you’re not listening right now, my dears, but if you are, I want you to know I DID get a lot of personal growth out of the present you sent me. I just so happens that I was attending a self improvement workshop the day the gift arrived.

On day One, the group leader said, “To get the value out of this weekend, you need to take responsibility for your own. transformation. If I feel uncomfortable, I need to Own it, and Out It.” Then everyone in the group will “Support” me by focusing all their attention on me and my comfort zone. I am noticing a feeling that I need to avoid eye contact so he doesn’t call on me. This kind of support sounds positively cringeworthy to me, I’m receiving about all the support I can handle from the comfort of my invisibility in the third row.  Day Two, I decide to ENGAGE. Long story short, I wear this outfit out in public. It’s an exercise in self awareness. These clothes represent the way that other people – people who actually love me,  see me, even if it seems a bit weird or surprising or even embarrassing for me. So today I am  watching to see other people – in this case, new acquaintances and strangers, react to me… I mean, these clothes.

Hmm. Yes, I learned a lot..  I find out that dressing this wild attracts certain people, especially the other folks who are themselves dressed in TyeDye and festival ware. Their smiles are extra warm for me today, while yesterday they didn’t even notice me. And shocker, people, who are dressed in the overwhelmingly common black or some shade of corporate grey don’t want to notice me, or am I just projecting? An Australian girl holds the door for me at the restroom long enough to enthusiastically tell me that my fancy coat just made her day!

So thank you, all you lovely friends who are seeing me today in all my rainbow colors. I find myself feeling the full range of proud to paranoid, but I am honoring the love which was behind these gifts.

Hmmm. Things I don’t want, don’t need, don’t know what to do with them. My little bag of early shopping bonus bargains has become a pile of guilty gift rejections. I should pass it all on to the good folks at good will. I’m just going to buy my friend a drink and give her a nice toast for her birthday. We are really getting too old for gifts, anyway. Except Flowers. Am I the only one, or does every woman still always appreciate it when someone gives her flowers. Yep, flowers. Cool.

Moral Ambiguity

One wonders if God is watching, and then decides who God is. Words can be spoken, but understanding is chosen. Let me quickly take notes on a man who recently got my attention when innocently expressing a simple thought that I have decided is the fundamental problem with the way men see the world.

He says “Destruction takes less time than creation.”

My mind immediately flashes to a scene where a woman giving birth watches helplessly as a man pushes a button to launch a rocket to wipe out the Taj Mahal. Many would agree that pushing the evil button takes much less time than creating one of the world’s most beautiful treasures. But the woman giving birth sees the man as another son of another mother, and knows it was an act of creation that made this man and the moment she is watching.

It seems obvious that the power to destroy is a faster, perhaps more important, power than the accretive process that is the power of creation. Yet I say it this commonly held belief is false logic. In truth, creation and destruction are always in balance. It takes just as long to create the button that destroys a world as it took to create that world to destroy. The consciousness that builds the world embodies the consciousness that destroys the world. Destruction does not occur alone by itself in the moment of pressing the button. That moment is merely the fruit of a long and complex process, fulfilling the intention of the creator. As in every act of creation and destruction, intention inseminates an energy that enters the world, and the world becomes that creation.

Comparing Apples to Apples instead of Apples to Seeds is the goal of a philosopher, a lover of truth and knowledge. Leave it to the warriors to stack the truth deck in their favor, and exploit the advantages of false logic. Let the cheats fool some of the people some of the time, for there is a profit to be made. The next question then… what is moral? The impartial hand of god may not reveal the consequences of one small action until the weight of many small actions are combined upon a scale. That is why I conclude the less obvious truth. Destruction does not take less time than creation. It is made in a creative process that lives, and has purpose and intent.

A person may wonder if God is watching, or assume that God expressed his will by giving a person their reason for being. A person may say that someone who calls the world God is a child who believes fictions from their parents over facts from nature. On the scale of creation and destruction, all these thoughts are true enough for a time. Who can say what is true beyond their own knowledge, and what is created beyond our beliefs?