ARCH 1

…

..

.

{To be, or not to be}

Dorothy Ophelia Thompson vs the bathroom mirror.
She.
Is.  ***
Wearing a flat affect that’s bland, sad, and unencourageable.
Just got up; didn’t want to get up.
Mind storming on the what’s going on.
This place, her next goals and steps…
…is she even worthy?

{you can do this.  things are different now…   …everything’s happening so fast.
…Doors are opening where pay walls and taboo used to be…     
and, even though, lonely caves and empty routines is all we know…
…you can do this}

It was another long night of sleep, no dreams, no nightmares; and she’s flat-out exhausted.

{   It’s going to be okay.  Move on.   
…he’d always tell you, his favorite Marine corps line; “nothing’s hopeless mom, we ADAPT and OVERCOME!
‘RAH!?”

…   ..  .   }  ***

Dorothy looks away from the mirror for a moment, only to look back.
She’s used to putting herself back together quickly; a superpower of sorts.

{…you honor him by honoring yourself so…
…you know what?  You’re wallowing and going nowhere like this…}

She looks dead into her round brown eyes — disregarding the pretty, welcoming the scorn.
{Ew.  Wipe that crust off, I can’t see myself think.  And what’s up with that hair?}   ***

Detesting herself for putting off her son’s memory as an order to function,
she inhales love, and exhales peace.
Desperate to cleanse herself under a hot shower.

{you look drab…     …clean yourself up: get dressed, highlight those attributes. 
Go out; take a walk girl, strut your stuff.  Be shiny}

She slips her night-gown off, flashes her pearly whites at herself in a big fake smile —
{urgh.  gross.  morning film.  need to brush}
Sticks her tongue out, goes “ahhhhh”, and squinches.
{…oh dear, you need to brush that halitus off your face asap}   ***

She holds her hair back and quickly brushes her teeth.
Blows her breath into her palms and approves the smell of mint.
Then steps back to continue to criticize herself all over.
Feeling everything about her is battered and old.

{sweety, it’s not the years, it’s the mileage}

Dorothy’s reflection commands respect; it represents the spirit of a surviving queen.
On display is a body and mind that’s braved a lifetime of abuse:
sexism and racism under god and country;
and landmines of hidden expectations from employers, friends, family…
And worst of all, lovers.

Her stretch marks and scars shame her body.
Daily personal wars, betrayals and assaults.
Wifed like property, to be divorced with a child like trash.
Second class, wage slaved, weathered down, and ultimately left alone with pets;
and a long personal story made short as no one seems to care out there.

Alone in a big way.

Nothing in her life ever came out like the fairy-tale books she used to lose herself in.
Romantic, utopian worlds she once believed in.
And now what…
She misses her son.  So proud of him.  Sees him everywhere here, and-

{was I a good mother?  …I failed to protect him…}

Dorothy’s reflection wipes a stray tear away and gets back to scrutinizing what’s left in front of her.
Contemplating her wrinkles, the lines on her visage, and shoulder curls with split tips.

{it’s been a rough few days…     …the war…  …leaving work…    …Vic…    …the trip here…    …Nala and the kiddos are going to be fine, they’re adjusting well and branching out fast, bless their hearts…   …and you’re doing good all things considered.  We’re doing good…}

Her greying and white hair stands out under the bathroom light.
{we thinking of straightening and dyeing this mess? 
They got all kinds of grooming circles here that’ll hook you up, good chance to meet new people as well…   
…or we going to own it?}   ***

She smiles at her kinky hair, it used to be raven black, but now it has white stripes running through it…
…reminds her of that poor cat, and that nasty skunk pepe le pew.
{kind of the story of your life eh?  Assholes with no boundaries that just want to use you; to the world’s amusement somehow…
…at this point, I would’ve shot him too}

She runs her hair back with her fingers, exposing her forehead, notes the bruises on her forearm from Nala yesterday,

{hand’s a little sore, but should heal soon…    …who’re you kidding, it hurts…  
…can’t believe how strong Nala is…    …that’s a good thing…    …she’s going to need to be}

Dorothy takes two readily available pain pills, washing them down by cupping water from the bathroom sink.
Swallows, makes an uncomfortable facial twist.
The pills found a way to stick to her throat, leaving a terrible taste that doesn’t leave fast enough.
{we’ve been through worse}

She feels an uncomfortable nausea and tremor inside of her, at the thought of how she shot down that low-life that murdered Vic, and hurt Nala so much.
She argues with herself, confused, pride mixed with the disgrace of having to’ve taken a life.  ***

{poor kiddos had to kill as well…    …you didn’t do anything wrong, you know that.  you did the right thing, it was the right kind of impetuous….   ….the right thing has a price. 
and…    …You’d do it again.  …Vic, your son, and dad…   …would’ve been proud…}  ***

She sighs in–  resumes judging her nude body up and down.
Notes her open purse by the sink, with two guns and makeup kit inside.
{health, beauty, and adventure}

Looking at her, and looking back, Dorothy’s glass twin is cautiously trying to look cute; striking encouraging poses along with her.
Pushing to find value from herself.

{urgh…  I look like a bag of coconuts..}

She pinches her flabbies, turns around and checks her back.   ***
Squeezes her chest together and bounces some cleavage.
{…you mean to say a sexaaaay bag of coconuts! 
Guuuurl you can get it.  you know you can still get it.
let’s take our mind off things.  Get yourself looking fine, push your ass out there and explore!
Or, you know…   …you could ask for company…      …you could…}

She smiles at her reflection, “how dare you think about him right now”
{we shouldn’t, you’re cursed…    …can’t be hoping to find love still, not at this age and after everything that’s happening…    …and i’m definitely not the same from younger me…    …damn it, why does the word love have to change AND be so vague…
…i guess, i just want a close friend i can connect with; a little harmless flirting…   …that’s timeless and safe right?..   …is it wrong?  for want.
…of just a little bit of romance?…   …Some modicum of love?}

She goes ahead and adds a little light blush to her brush.
Then powders her dark cheeks, heightening contrast for attention.

{…text him.  you know you want to.  tease him to get him to talk to you that way you like.  He’s playful.  Let’s have some fun}

Dorothy checks herself in the mirror, finishing up her eyeliner with a modern flick.

{you’re still scared huh…  …hey now, remember when you first heard this?}

Dorothy pulls out her topia-phone, and selects a background song to vibe to.
The room’s wireless speakers liven up against the silence.

”” …♪♪♪ Spinderella cut it up one time! 
Schmoomeh! oh!ooh, ooh, ooh 
♪ heey! — uh-huh — oh! — hmm-hmmm– uuungh… oops!  ♪♪♪ ””

She shimmies and grooves, dips her hips a little, loosens up, with her shoulders, her arms, and hands…   ***
…that end up holding the phone…

“”” …♪ heey, ah ha ♪ … ””

…She slows down and stares at the chat application option.
Since, contact to him is an open option, just a few sentence combos away.
She just has to…   …reach out.

“”” …♪ let’s talk about-♪ … ””

Dorothy’s distracted, thinking it out, and no longer hears nor moves to the music.
 {…he diiiiid say he was available for me anytime…  …seems like he, maybe might, be interested in…   …you?}
She points a finger-nail on her lip, as she whispers to herself, “Nah, i’m being silly.  Just let it go, save yourself the rejection…”
{Nah, nah, Don’t be scurred gurl, throw a little harmless flirt, test him out, what does he want with you?  what do you want with him?…   
…be bold, be curious, be honest.  How would he react to a romantic hint?   …only one way to find out}   ***

Dorothy giggles to herself and bites her lip and thumb, feeling like a curious little huntress, anxious to know if she’s liked a certain way or not.

{well either he likes me…     …or he likes me not, right?}

She pulls up in her short list of contacts,
hovers over the name “D.McMillan56” before texting him: 

<<<   hey…    …could I, take you up on your offer?  Would you be open to a day date today?  Is that an okay ask?   
Sorry! I don’t like last minute anything like anyone else, but.  i’m not with my friends atm and was feeling spontaenus.
I guess i’m hoping for an excuse to dress up and go out for a bit?   Stretch the ol’ legs?  Totally not flirting!😇   >>>

Dorothy puts the phone gently down on the bathroom’s vanity countertop, next to her makeup kit and purse.

She looks back up at the mirror, chin high, and applies some lip-stick, maroon-red.
{You did it!  See!  No big deal, and now look at that mouth, that looks yummmaaaaay!}
She blows a big smooch to herself, she agrees with the way her lip’s change from inside pink to darker outer shades when she puckers up.

She starts wondering what’ll happen next, that was a big play she just put down.

{hmmm.  darn it.  I should’ve double checked my spelling, he’ll probably pick up on something spelt wrong and think less of me…    …nah, that’s silly, it’s a text, not a library job application.  You know how to write and spell.  Girl, you gotta chillax hun}

Nevertheless, worry starts creeping in.
Worried he might take too long to reply, or reject her, or worse….      ….not reply at all.

{oh no…   that was stupid!  He’s also the guy who offered to fly you to Colorado!  what the heck were you thinking!
It’s going to be awkward going with him now!  Should I take the HUMBUG option?  Are there other pilots!?
Does this thing have an unsend option!???
Yes! Yes it does, darn it!  It’s been confirmed as message read!}

😱

Dorothy clacks the phone back down on the vanity counter, nervous.
She holds onto the sink bowl, shoulders hunched, head hanging down, defeated…

Tries to get her composure back…

{it’s okay, it’s okay.  It’s fine}

Dorothy inhales, exhales, to herself,
“This– this is nothing.”

{whatever happens next is okay…    …when we feel alone, we do bold silly things, this is normal.  This’ll pass as an embarrassing memory when it’s all said and done…   …who knows, you can still get lucky!  You might meet someone in Colorado, plenty of fish in the sea.  There’s gotta be some mermen out there that’ll hook you in with stories and art and stuff and…    …holding hands and…     ….oldies music, shared experiences…   …snuggles…}

“Yikeys!”

The counter vibrates and chimes, giving Dorothy a heart-startle that she holds with one hand.
Still looking like she was pledging an allegiance, she stares at the phone for a few seconds, unsure…

…before cautiously picking it up as if it was a broken jack-in-the-box.

Reading the message, she sighs out, in relief, and new-found excitement.

>>>   Dearest Dorothy, it just so happens I’ve got a lucky suit I haven’t worn in years, and a silly top-hat that’s been gathering dust.
We welcome your invite and would love to see you again.
Being new in town, I’d imagine you’d be wanting to explore the uptown city?
May I suggest my favorite site, the War-Narrative Museum?  Followed by a stroll, some wine, and maybe even some mini-gulf later after? 
Would that please my non-coquette friend?    <<<   ***

Dorothy covers her mouth in happy surprise, looks up and claps and does a little jump.

{Yay!  That was nice!  That was cute of him, he’s doing that talking thing I like! 
Wait, am i supposed to find my way there on my own.  Can I get him to pick me up…   …he didn’t offer, and i’m hoping he’ll make it easy for me… 
  …am i being too pushy?  Chill. don’t be silly.  He’s not being avoidant.  He’s pacing things.  He’s doing good, he’s being nice.  …now, try and get him to pick you up.  We wanna know where this goes😏}

From:  “IdreamofDory61”,
To: “D.McMillan56”:

<<<   Super pleased indeed☺️.  Is it alright to ask my gallant knight to swing by and pick me up? 
Is by the 12’th stroke of mid-day reasonable?   >>>

Dorothy takes a deep breath, clutches her phone to her chest.
Inhaling love and exhaling peace isn’t working right now.
An incoming message chimes and vibrates on her sternum a few seconds later.

>>>   You can count on me there, before the last stroke of high-noon, with Bells on.   ***
Now forgive if I don’t answer till then, I’m off to get ready! 🏃‍♂️‍➡️😎💐   <<<

Dorothy squeels in youthful delight, she’s going out on a date.
She can hear the music again; and finds herself singing and hip swinging along to the fresh song in the background.

“”” …♪ Heeeey Yeahhhh, I wanna shoop, baby ♪ …””

Mid-bathroom party in,
She stops abruptly after locking eyes with her mirror-self, catching herself utterly dumfounded by the situation.
Naked, makeup randomly on, cell-phone in hand and awkwardly dancing about.

Realizing it’s.

10:33 am.

{dammit woman!  You just had to say 12pm to fit that last stroke line; really!?
You haven’t even showered yet, what the hell have you been doing all this time anyways?!  Take this all off! 
You’ve about an hour left and already you’re late!}

The mirror fogs up as Dorothy runs her shower and shaves her armpits, v-line, and legs.

Clean, smooth, and wrapped in a towel; she wipes the mist off her reflection and sees herself in a new light, doing her makeup again in higher spirits.

11:55 am

The phone chimes and almost vibrates itself off the bathroom counter, but she doesn’t check it; she’s still frantically putting herself together.  ***(PUTTING)
{he’s probably here!  you’re late!  that’s!…    ….unprofessional…?}   ***

For what feels like a frustrating forever, she’s tossing clothes around the room;
furiously mixing and matchings different articles together;
trying to find the right message to wear.

Thinking herself finished, her mirror-ego confirms that her final outfit communicates classy yet casual; and it’s comfortably seductive in the right areas.
Well-dressed with long sleeves and shoulder windows. 
Not too much, not too little.
{This’ll do hun, this’ll do}

Although unsure if he was serious about having a top hat, either way, she shaped her hair into a fast flirty updo to match.
{first impressions are important…      …get your hair right gurl.  get that natural animal out of you. 
take lessons from the kiddos.  flash those canines, growl when something pleases you}
She bounces her dangling curls to test it’s hold; gives it one last check and review.
{you look.  so.  damn.  cute…     …hope he appreciates the effort}

12:18 pm

Dorothy’s reflection kisses her good-bye and good-luck as she rushes out the room, almost forgetting her purse.

As she closes the door and locks away the murder scene mess of rejected shirts and pants, she can hear Navarro sobbing softly nearby and pauses in curious suspense.
Listening in, she makes out some words and puts some convo pieces together.

“…nurse Joy smell mi and said soon maybe lose more control of my motors and memory, no more killing power…
…no bebeys for mi-mi…    …them bullies so different, but similar like; they melt for touchies and lovey doveys…”   ***

Dorothy stays glued, she whips her phone out as an excuse to randomly being there in front of her door if anyone happens to show up.
She gathers that there’s a small group of bison women with Navarro sharing her pain and listening.

The room next-door continues to flood with tears and intimate things Navarro’s lovers like or don’t like, going lightly from foods and simple routines, to heavy on sexual kinks.

Dorothy felt her cheeks turn fuchsia under her eye-lids, remembered her date, and hurried out fast as she could.
{oh dear, i can’t tell what’s going on but, can’t be good, poor thing…   …i don’t think i should get involved, her group seems very close…   …hope she’s well…   
— oh~!}

Right outside, top hat on, sharply dressed, and chauffeuring an all white golf cart is McMillan,
very happy to see her.
With the gait of a excited senior man, his heels spring into action as he receives Dorothy.

“Dave, i’m so sorry, I should’ve texted in advance”, Dorothy tries to continue apologizing for being late, but is interrup–

“You. Look. Timeless…      …and ravishing as well”
Dave offers a sincere smile and two palms up, “may I?”

Dorothy adjusts her purse and meets him at his offer.
{Is he really going to twirl me and check me out?…   …am I wearing enough deodorant!?}   ***

“oohp!”, Dorothy laughs as she’s gently spun to his, “Wow”.  ***

McMillan does a spin as well, offering himself as eye-candy for her.   *** (ELLA LO VOLTEA)

“What do you think?”

{he’s such a character, i love it…   …he seems so collected…    …did his eye twinkle just now, does he have a tell?}

Dorothy finds herself quickly easing from awkward re-meet, to comfortably amused, “I see why you call it your lucky suit, it’s very becoming on you.”

McMillan cocks a half-smile and tips his top hat, she looks behind him to his cart, “And I take it this is your trusty steed?   …Does it have a name”

“The guys at the shop call this one, ‘Appa’,” 

as McMillan guides her to her seat,

“And if you step right this way, I do believe adventure awaits us”

There’s a mistletoe with tiny ringing bells hanging in the back of the cart, the seats are extra plush, and there’s a grey arrow on the hood pointing forward.

Dorothy keeps her purse on her lap and her hands over that, as McMillan drives them uptown, gently swerving and stopping in the lively street of people and furries.
Everyone looks to be having fun, carefree, while looking busy.

There’s concert and carnival activities deeper in and to the left and the right of this main road.

They make small talk with long pauses, not-knowing what exactly to say to each other and what convos they’d like to share.
Rolling leisurely.

The golf cart continues along the crowds in the street, coming up to jungles of solar panels and hanging gardens, and passes through the skyscraper gates into the city.

McMillan cues in his pilot voice as he parks the cart a block away from the Museum,
“To my lovely single passenger, we have now arrived at our destination. 
As always, thank you for trusting your time and luggage with the Appa express, please remain seated until the buckle sign overhead is off, and we look forward to your next visit.”
Dorothy’s beams, as he steps around from driver to passenger side, and offers his elbow out.

She holds onto his right arm and disembarks the cart, elegantly escorted onto the brick sidewalk.

He offers his coat, she politely declines.

McMillan keeps up the small talk as he walks her slowly down the block,
“I implore you, correct me if you find me drifting off topics or mansplaining too much dear, I can be as annoying as a run-off sentence at the racetrack sometimes.”

Dorothy can’t resist smiling and feeling charmed listening in on his accent, and can’t imagine interrupting him.
“This place used to be called the Levine Museum of the New South once upon a time.”

Dorothy recognizes the name he shared,

{soft test him, you don’t always get chances like this…    …is he fetishizing me for my skin?  Or does he like me as a person…   …we have to know…   …please pass the test…🤞🤞🤞}

Dorothy speaks up for herself, as confidently as she can muster, “Yes…  I heard about it.  The grand Levine Museum– a business dedicated to the black neo-colonial experience, sponsored by another white man that became wealthy off of our perpetual poverty and ignorance; is that right?….”

McMillan smiles and his eyes give off an undeniable twinkle, and he keeps walking with her a few more steps before speaking along, “You’re…   …absolutely right.  Thank goodness, things are completely different now, and.
I’m proud to say my dear, there’s no white supremacy and patriarchal narratives in this city.” 

He pauses the walk for a moment, to give Dorothy a sincere affirmation, “Nor does that foul narrative fly with me, I can assure you”  McMillan points at his chest and finger writes his following words, “cross my heart and hope to die, there’s none of that sht, on my side.”

Dorothy squeezes his arm, softly says “thank-you” and looks down and away for a moment.

McMillan shifts the walk and convo forward, bringing her with him,
“… you know…   ….I have a feeling you’re going to like the topian twist to this building. 
I’ve come here, multiple times, always alone.
I’m glad I’ll get to see a fresh reaction from someone who can appreciate…

…perspective.”

{oh. my. goodness.  Is he fetishizing me for how I look!  I mean, like, how I look at things?  What do you even call that?
critic-sexual?}

Dorothy’s intrigued, “Sooooooo, what can we expect?  If you were a critic, what would your review look like?”
“Oh dear, beg pardon.  Kind of difficult for me to explain if you can believe it, one of the main reasons I keep coming back I suppose… 
What I can say is that, ironically, they’ll be doing a lot of explaining and oversimplifying on… …everything?
I wish i could better-“
“I can’t wait to find out.” Dorothy blurts out, “I trust your tastes so far…     …I remember your bisquits, I’m sure this’ll be just as interesting for me.”

Dorothy winks at a blushing McMillan.

{He keeps twinkling!  He’s so cool, I like him so far…    …wish he could walk just a teeeeensy bit faster though}

McMillan finishes bringing them in from the cool chill outside, to the comfortable inside of the building, “I can’t wait to hear what you think and, ah!–  We’re in luck, my favorite narrators volunteered today.”

The main lobby is huge and it appears they are just in time for a planned tour around the main war room.

McMillan hands Dorothy a transparent rectangular strip on a thin plastic pole, like a long stiff flag, and it had a sticker that read “English”.

He notes her confusion, “I was taken back by this as well, it’s called a ‘view-stick’.  See that large monitor above them?  This is so you can see what their saying in live subtitles…    …i don’t know about you, but, I feel like I can hear better when I can see the words spoken.”

Dorothy giggles and puts her hand to her chest, “oh my goodness, felt!  I’m used to having the volume low and reading the sub-titles on the t.v., I’ve always had to be on high alert as my son was quite the trouble…”  Dorothy feels awkward and immediately gets back to the over simplified tech in front of her, ” …quite the Dennis the menace he was.  So you’re saying, I just hold this over my eyes and-  oh!  Wow, really?  That’s so different!” 

Dorothy notes overhead animated AI versions of the presenters, with the exception that they’re communicating in sign language and there’s

subtitles underneath.

“Impressive, isn’t it?  The young folks call it “augmented reality”, but I call it for what it is, witchcraft!”

They laugh together, Dorothy’s still holding onto his arm, comfortably attached.

{this is nice}

In real time, there’s a rankless Male Marine and a female soldier representing the wall exhibits, speaking in loud clear, confident voices.
There’s a sizeable crowd huddled together off-center of the room in front of them.
Their large group talks hushes down as the dark green Marine starts off the seminar and booms throughout the room,

“Gooooooooood afternoon ladies and germs, i’m Blake Brockington and leading this presentation is my bestest friend, hero, and most Bradass bitch I know, Laaaaaaaaaaaaaady Gaga!!!   

Some normies in the crowd give a small laugh as the soldier reflectively assures the crowd, in friendly annoyance, “No no, no, no; don’t listen to this silly-lug and his played out joke, my name’s Chelsea Manning, we volunteer to do this together, and mother monster and I look nothing alike, so let’s not insult her now.”   ***   (guys, it’s a stupoid joke he does, he’s going to bring a song lyrics in, i just go with it to go with it.  blake nods.  dorothy rolls her eyes)

She smiles through a small chuckle and shakes her head disapprovingly at Brockington, “So thank you all for being here, we both volunteered to share with you some warrior art to help explain this utopian world around you, HOOAH?”

Blake backs her up, “Yeah!!!  ‘Rah! ‘Rah!…”

before looking to the crowd, and hiding his face from her with his palms out sings out, “and OH, LA-LA!”

The crowd laughs over confused furries, some of them put a view-stick with “context” stickers on them for more details on the inside joke.   ***

Blake brings it back, “Right!  Pleasantries out of the way, this topia-museum, this perspective it offers, it’s near and dear to us all.

So we’re going to begin, right away…   …like, right now”

Blake side eyes Chelsea twice, signaling her queue.

She kicks it, “Alllrighty theeen, so let’s take a step aaaaaallllllll the way back and contemplate the concept of life.”

Blake nods with his arms crossed, “That’s right, we’re going all the way to the roots of the roots.

As we speak, we want you to keep in mind THREE! very important concepts.

They’re simple”:

Chelsea finger counts them off;

“ONE!  What’s the PROBLEM? 

TWO!  What’s the best SOLUTION to it? 

And THREE!  HOW, is the problem, going to be solved; in a mutually beneficial way or in an abusive way?
That’s the big choice, that’s where actions speak louder than words, that’s where our war is dead center at.
It’s the biggest part of this topia country, religion, ideology, life strategy, hippy culture, etc.  whatever you wanna call it, the facts are that this is at our core.

Blake engages the crowd pointing out the intro highlights,
“pay close attention here, because THREE means STRATEGIES as superiority complexes, your inner spirit, and what’s tied to everything alive around you, including yourself, and more importantly, for war purposes, it’s also how we primarily  separate the “good” from the “bad” in this  war.”  adapt and overcome.  It’s also the literal definition of INTELLIGENCE, intelligence is measured on how we solve problems; there’s the smart way, and the dumb way.  Intelligence is also used to recognize if things are being solved the altruistic way, or hte narcissistic way.  so don’t be dumb, not holding these views close to heart can literally get you killed.

First things first, vocabulary words and the weight of their value and concepts are important in these narratives, these words will be in BOLD on the little view sticks you guys got and we’ll be extra loud for emphasis.

Lets break it down.  lets do it, right now.
i like’a that sound.
Blake does the questions, chelsea does the answers.

First, what is universal truth, and why is it important?

UNIVERSAL TRUTHS are fundamental facts to life, trust, and reality as we know it.
Here’s a list of universal truths.

FIN FIN FIN FIN

NIET NIET NIET NIET

——————————————————————————————

UNIVERSE BACKGROUND THEME.

The first problem is, you got this whole wide universe right? 

And in it, there’s a never ending war of light vs dark.

I know, it’s incomprehensibly huge and nuanced, and energy is bubbling around and popping up here and there. 
I like to think of it as, when you cut the heat off on boiling water, it takes alot of effort to heat up, but no energy at all to die back down. 
In enough time, the water fades away, maybe leaving little ghost spots to it’s once being there.

So real talk, the story of the universe is one messy love story, —

At some point in that boring cycle with no appreciation in it, some particular energy, frequency or vibration or whatever, and it’s friends, had a Ying vs Yang moment at the right place and at the right time here on earth. 

Rumor has it they went to some kind of thermal party, got pressured by a hot electron, bumped into a quantum particle, likely had a little static shock and chemistry experience between them, and after catalyzing with no gravity between the fabric of space time they were all like;

hey, disappearing sucks, being alive feels good, let’s have a revolution and call it staying alive, even if we have to suffer for it  …rah?

{it’s as if my own son was speaking}

Whatever really happened, nobody knows, but, here’s the conceptual skinny.
Us alive things, are pretty much the universe experiencing itself and trying transcend itself from the suffering of depending on our own energy to survive.
Like, achieving true, guaranteed immortality.
Freaky, i know, but hey.  case in point, the problem of being alive vs not being alive against the elements still ongoing, eons later, to current day, as we clearly see.

the universe still hates to see us alive and having a good time, so if you ever wondered why we are so obscessed with space, it’s because not knowing and mystery is a threat in and of itself.

Getting hit from 

BEING ALIVE AND THE WILL TO FIGHT

In that communication, let’s note what did happen that we can all relate to; something deep from an abyss, communicated, loud and proud, 

That frequency was called the WILL TO FIGHT.  SURVIVAL.  COURage against death.

Without it, there’s no freedom from anything.
It’s that voice you hear and feeling you get that says, alive time is good and valuable, death is bad and a fkn threat.

That powerful frequency is inside all living things, that’s us by the way, and whether we like it or not, that links us all together.
We’re linked.  Whales, dinosours, insects, fruits, bacteria, fungi…    …even a virus, it’s all the same core.

To survive, life did two very fundamental things as a core strategy.

It consumed and reproduced with itself to preserve alive energy.
It diversified and re-unified in every position, spread out and adapted to unique environments with similar designs.

The spirit uses alive thing bodies like avatars and highly complex and autonomous units to adapt, collect and share information from consumtion and reproduction.

That all spark, core, holy spirit, grit, has a culture of back and forth consumption with it’s lower forms.
respecting only what fights back, and dominating what doesn’t.

Oh yeah, that spirit is vicious.
And it’s well and alive in all of us.
The only difference is that it evolved to a society through altruism, more on that in a minute.

PSYCHOLOGYICAL WARFARE

So we got this alive thing now, in a kill or be killed universe complete with comets and solar flares.
And an insanely tempermental planet that spits lava and ices over between land-slides and hurricane seasons.  

That’s life’s real enemy, always has been.  It’s been adapting, but it hasn’t overcome that…    …yet.

That’s where the second war comes in, the war of life against itself.Then you got alive things, consuming and sexing itself in a vicious life and death game with the elemental threats AND itself as it’s own victim and predator.

Until social strategies came about.
It was the strategy that allowed to lower suffering and tackle problems more complex.

So complex, that life achieved a breakthrough when it achieved the next level of the evolution of alive things, the obscession over efficient use of energy to minimize and elliminate suffering,

To do this, humans come into place.  What makes us special are two things.

we communicate more efficiently and effectively than any other alive things out there, believe it or not..
Our conciousness and collection of knowledge has allowed us to be able to choose any strategy we want to solve problems.

So!  at this time, we’re going to get into psychological warfare and power dynamics.
Humans have hte options of hunting, gathering, and the most advanced strat, trapping.

We are hardwired for truth and trust based relationships that we find in a small society.
How do you trick an animal with a sense of social justice?

You take ownership of their survival and problem solving skills.
You make them dependent on you, introduce hierchy, and you control the narrative of what the definition of a society is.

The good guys in life, their goal is to share the struggle and work united under reciprocation and balance to advance their own personal life calling.

The bad guys, are stuck on preserving their own energy and using others to solve their survival and personal life calling problems. 
they do not want to solve problems, they want others to do it for them.

Our hardwiring is give and take relationships with a society of supportive individuals. 
society is a massive problem solving tool, we use it and give to it.

Until social strategies allowed for the reduction of survival conditions, and allowed room to breath thrival conditions.

The greatest miracle and core strategy of all life, is energy resisting to simply fade out and let the universe dominate it.

Clearly, all of us alive things, from us curious little hobbit people to the very everywhere bacterias, fungi, and barely alive bunch of coding dna viruses

s.  through consumption and reproduction, combined with different 

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

comparison walking neighborhoods vs suburbs, she had heard how the suburbs feeds the wealthy.  just another trick, birth lottery kids don’t have to worry about cooking or cleaning up after themselves, but…    …some people are forced to live in poverty and sell apples.

———————————————————————————————————

.