We are Tourists in our own Country theme park

Everything is owned by some corporation or materialist consumer, or privatized and enforced with those snaking grey lines of chain link fences. In order to enter, ‘the nature’ a fee is charged, and we hand over our plastic money like the exchanges of a monopoly game. For $50, our families can enjoy the fresh air, wildlife, water, and panoramic views of our national parks, but only for the day, before you get kicked out again, forced back into your cell, the one you put your mortgage into, so you can own. But not really own, because if the energy company says your in the way of a new power grid, then it’s not your property and you have to bargain for it back. There is an inherit problem when every morcel of food you put in your body has a colorful label plastered on it, a sale tag, and a bar code. A real pecuniary system no longer even exists, and bitcoin is the closest thing we have to a trading system.

We feel safe, cowardly taking animals out of their natural habitats, locking them up like prisoners in steel cages, and asking for payment to see how these ‘wild animals’ live everyday life. That is, in a 200 ft’ square space with no natural foods or living ecosystem. Everything is becoming filtered through technology and novely, nothing left is real. People are trading intimacy for virtual sex, organic life giving food for what might as well be 3d printed synthetic food, raw nature in exchange for high definition. We can’t even travel or walk in public without some kind of order, our bipedal rite to traverse land, taken away. Reflective signs like mirrors point us in the right or wrong directions, turn here, turn there, stop, go, no entry, this is prohibited, this is illegal, no smoking, no sleeping here, and so on. Rules plastered up like 1000 commandments of the out of control money handlers, who have all the authority, to do, say, and act in any immoral way they please, while all the slaves go to the same stores to buy their food, listen to the same music, wear the same brands, and walk in perfectly straight line, in queue for the neverending wait. So orderly they are, in this theme park, like perfect sheep being coralled by the wolfhound. The more you kiss ass, you may be rewarded with a shiny new car, or a pay bonus so you can finally sit in front of an 80″ screen and watch the lives of other people living the exact same lie you are.
We are tourists in our own country, who don’t remember our mother tongues, we can not navigate our own neighbourhood, we meet with aversion to any stranger, and rather look away then spark conversation, and we rarely ever choose our own work, as if it were quota, to be drafted into the slave system, serving the tycoons of your own death and dis-ease, while believing the myth of equality. Everything costs money; shelter, water, food, entertainment, love, knowledge… and we can buy just about anything with a few compromises of our soul, and the digits of our debt filled credit mines. The theme park is put out in the shop windows, dressed on manicans, mocking our own sense of belonging. Reviling our innate wildness, and curling up the last remnants of reality we have left. At the end of the day, the real world is always and inevitably ‘out there’ or at least the enjoyable and sensual world, because you are just a robot, paying dues to a name, an idea, a religion, or an illusion. The park closes when you die, but you can always return, more hollow, more shallow, and misguided than before. Don’t get lost the first time, or you may be part of the attraction. People should wake up from their dream, before the realities of every dystopian novel become the only way we know.https://departuresanddestinations.files.wordpress.com/2015/06/img_3612.jpg?w=419&h=279

 

 

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One thought on “We are Tourists in our own Country theme park

  1. I thought Ernst Jünger addresses this and how to “combat” the panopticon with incredible beauty and insight in his opus Waldgänger, written at the end of his life and sort of as a more nuanced summary of how he had survived, and even thrived, in a time and place and atmosphere that can only be described as suffocating to the soul. Where do we take refuge and fight from, as spiritual Guerilla warriors, when true wilderness is all but gone, and there is no safe place to create a viable and physical resistance movement, or even just to know what it’s like to simply be human? The Waldgänger must have access to his inner forest of myth and primordial Truth to be effective in this day and age. I think he gave an example of the Waldgänger as the prison guard, who, being attuned to this last inner and spritual refuge of freedom (he goes on to explain how this refuge is really where true humanity resides) is effective because he can take any position within the dehumanized technosphere, and still be an effective resistance fighter. This is evident when he hands the prisoners food, or offers them safe passage. Direct resistance is nearly impossible now, at least here in North America, and as an effective means for real change. There are no more resistance fighters like Geronimo now, because there are no more uncharted wildernesses to take refuge in. no more places the technosphere cannot reach.

    Reading Kershaw’s book on the männerbund, and the wild places in between villages as necessary and culturally recognized places outside the law of the innengard, and indeed as central to the well being and maintenance of clan life, I have been thinking about this a lot, and still have a lot to work with, but I am excited by what I am finding.

    Of course, Industrial Civilization will not last much longer. Years ago I asked a good friend about this, and stated that it felt like the city and civlization where encroaching and eating everything up. She smiled and said that she felt like the wilderness is holding everything all the time. I dismissed this as too soft and passive at the time, partially because I was younger and wanted to resist directly and to fight directly. Honestly, in retrospect, I don’t think I was being “direct” at all. I realize now that we live in a brief time where the inner forest is the most effective point of resistance. I still fight for the same things, in my own way, but am having fun recognizing that that wilderness “holds everything” because it is within everything. I encourage and speak to that wilderness in friends and family and strangers, too, and even if people don’t remember on the surface what the fuck I am appealing to, it almost invariably brings about a little glimmer of remembrance deep inside, and it is wonderful when you can see it begin to light up and grow even more. I do not see the wilderness as merely something oppressed by Civilization, but as an underlying and virile Truth to be brought out and liberated from within. Appeal to the human under the machinery and trauma, and the machinery begins to rust and erode.

    As an aside note, Trudell emphasized this at the end of his life, too. He said that unlike himself in his younger years on Alcatraz and with the AIM (though it should be noted that he continued to be a “symbolic” member of the AIM until his death), that the resistance fighters of the future would have to train as spiritual Guerillas. This is where I would LOVE to have Jünger and Trudell over for dinner to just hear them conversate.

    Anyhow, I hear you. I get hit by immense and debilitating waves of depression over this, feeling hopeless, and ineffective, despite my track record of making real efforts and sincere work around all of this. Derrick Jensen likes to touch on the feeling of hopelessness, too. He says “good”, because hope is still an avoidance of responsibility, a hope for something or someone other than oneself to come in and save us, whether it’s “The Big Awakening” or Jesus returning to punish all the sinners. Despite feeling differently about a large portion of the other points he makes, I think this is a very important one to meditate upon.

    And in truth, life will go on. And it will burn up in it’s own flames. Townes Van Zandt liked to take his shoes off before entering a venue to play, and then remind shitty security guards that the sun was burning out. ” Do you know that?!” he would say. “The sun is burning out, and you’re telling me I can’t come in without my shoes on?!”.

    Power is responsibility!

    Solidarity

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