I Hope That This Writing Pays Off - My Only Chance To Secure Spiritual Safety - I Have No Intention Of Being Icharas - Society Owes Me For These Countless Hours Of Headaches And Chest Pain - I Will Hang Those &*$@ Transmitters Out To Dry If It Is The Last Thing I Do

Personal Minutiae - December 30, 1996 (a)

1996.12.30. (a)

I am hopeful, even excited.  This writing has to pay off.  It will pay off.  I know the chances are slim that I will make money.  But my dream of having an EMF-shielded house drives me.  This is my only chance for securing spiritual safety. I want so much to glow, to radiate this truth.  But I cannot do this in the presence of vast EMF pollution twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.  I need at least half the day for respite from this invasive, maddening pollution.  Without it I cannot make any more progress in my life.  My self-consciousness will never let go unless it is certain there is safety and sustainability for a life whose consciousness is centered in the heart.

Much of what I say and write is novel and disturbing.  My family struggles to accept my accounting of myself. It is too hard for them.  It causes too many social and technological assumptions to be turned on their heads.  God knows that life is difficult and fruitless enough these days without an awareness of EMFs to be plagued by.  In the end, although they love me, they wish this sensitivity would just go away.  They continuously beg for me, like little Dorothy in "The Wizard of Oz," to tap my toes together three times and wish myself back to where I was before.  But when you are marooned on the sunny side of Mercury, there is no getting back to Kansas -- unless, perhaps, you jump into a solar flare and have your ashes blown back to earth. 

I want to live.  I am a survivor.  I am not Icharus.  Not by a long shot.   I am tired of crowing to my family about my suffering.  As with so many people, they have come to accept tremendous suffering as an unquestioned, unavoidable fact of  modern life.  So who am I to be drawing so much attention to my own suffering when they all feel spiritually betrayed themselves?

So I have to write.  I have to reach a wider audience and deliver on some exalted prose to extricate myself from this unending EMF torture.  I hope to God that a publisher will believe in me.  My writing must shine and inspire. With luck, the unusualness of my testimony and perspective will be what earns me the lasting support that I need.  My perspective and experiences are so unique they have to be true. I hope that my brain can maintain equilibrium during this forced outpouring of ideas. Wresting from my body's consciousness a disproportionately mental focus is already disruptive enough.  And without recourse to the grounding effect of exercise, the next few years will be a conscious tightrope walk if ever there was one. It would be so much easier if there were not all these goddamn transmitters everywhere. There are five major installations within five miles of my house--and I live in a rural area!  This is totally fucked. The more I think, the more I write, the more I mentally fry in this EMF presence. It's an electrically induced meningitis.

Prior to the birth of this awareness, writing was a much more physiologically safe and inspired activity. The concentration necessitated by deep thought would cause an incredible welling up of emotion in my chest that literally made it a psychological tour-de-force just to sit and look at my computer. 

When I am done with this writing I am submitting a bill to society. Society owes me. Big time. For all those hours of headaches and spasms in my chest and back as I lay down on my bed to recover from an hour of this grueling mental task. For the feelings of hopelessness and utter depression that grow upon me as I try to complete a paragraph. I will hang those fucking transmitters out to dry if it is the last thing I do.

Comment 2016.3.5.

Nothing new to add here. It's about 20 years later now. I am relying on sharing my message via the Internet, but the principle search engines restrict the delivery of my information for various keyword searches. I am getting only about 1/10th the traffic that I had when the content was on a different website that had my name on it eight years ago. I think it's due to my sharing a more anti-big-government point of view now. Also, search engines have begun to rank websites that are not mobile device friendly much farther down the list. I think the hyperlinks have to have more space between them in order to be controlled well by fingers on a touch screen. I don't have the tech know-how to reconfigure my site; as well, I couldn't be more hostile to the idea of "mobile computing" that relies on wireless transmissions of manmade EMF to function. So if I am now ranked by Alexa as 10,000,000th in popularity globally, as opposed to 1,000,000th like I used to be, then so be it. The ranking penalty I think applies only to those searches inititated from a mobile device, which I have read accounts for about 50% of searches now.

The last eight years have been grueling, with my being forced to teach in locations with subpar EMF exposures, and no access to daily hiking/walking nearby. The long and the short of it is that I have to drive an hour or more each way for a good walk; and I am not able to think well where I live, with the net effect being that my creative output has dropped to near zero. My health has tanked as well. I weighed 190-195 for most of my adult life. But now I am about 220 pounds or so, which I attribute to the effects upon my bodymind of the massive microwave tower about a mile from my workplace and my inability to exercise regularly. My excess food intake acts as a dampener on the conduction of manmade EMF in my body, but it slowly kills me as well by undermining my gross physical health health. I might transcribe just half a microcassette per year now, and I have 200 more to transcribe.

My goal at this point is to find a service at least to digitally archive these tape recordings. Many of them are 25 years old now and are degrading. And, maybe when I am in my seventies, two decades from now, I will approach a "spiritual" publisher like Shambhala (that has put into print some of Gopi Krishna's writings) to bring together a selection of excerpts from my website into a single book and make it available digitally like an Amazon or Apple e-book. I really enjoy my Amazon e-reader and I think it's a fantastic way to collect and view books. What I would like to see with my Shambhala-endorsed book is a regular or recurring commentary by two or more "experts" in the areas of yoga, kundalini, or psychology. I would like to see them write forwards and have additional commentary as the volume progresses to help the reader place my thoughts and beliefs into a wider (or at least an-other) framework. I don't hold much hope in benefitting financially from any of my written work. Most people are disbelieving and uninterested. And as the economy worsens, people turn to issues of basic survival and the satisfaction of base instinct (as opposed to subtle aspirations). If I retire at age 70, I'll have taught special education for 45 years. My pensions from Hawaii and California will hopefully provide me with a minimum quality of life. My writings will take root in whatever way is appropriate; but at least I won't be forced to bend my creative effort toward a financial end. What is written here in cyberspace will be as pure and unadulterated as I can manage.




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