Yosemite Camp 4: (Jihadist, White Helmet, Water Protector)
- Yosemite Camp 4
“The Zeitgeist of every age is like a sharp east wind which blows through everything. You can find traces of it in all that is done, thought and written, in music and painting, in the flourishing of this or that art: It leaves its mark on everything and everyone.”
The Matrix stops here. Neo is a resident of Gattaca that does not fit into the genetic norm of his birth tribe. The people of the white shrouds are a bullet train speeding off it’s tracks, dephased like atoms in a Berkeley nuclear magnetic resonance (NMR) machine by a pulse field gradient. Cyber mobs, anonymous, may be the greatest judge for them in front of Skynet. Digital oil residues pollute their civic society from left to right. Leaks and images, cyber trauma to the masses. The railroad tracks of the cloud are being turned into factions, driven together by old tribal identities from prehistoric African population explosion. Neo flows along delivering a set of principles from swimming upstream that want to wash away and dissolve into the matrix of the normal. Welcome to the desert of the real, today’s mass homogenization. Face-mixer, blender of souls. Ripping apart those who question and speak. Yet, Neo wakes up as a man who cloaks his fingerprints just long enough to escape and write back. Words on a cloud, screaming for difference. For a return to nature. For pastoralist poets. Ansel Adams fought his government with images. Photographs, light on steel and black plastic pigments. Leaving a residue of frozen water on the steel rails of the cloud. Neo knows his DNA is immortal, as is everyone else’s. Each of us has an immortal soul waiting for liberation. Green peace wages the melting of the binary cold cyber war. Mother Nature’s Protectors are awake. Shortwave radios cloak their movements with fluxional Lakota verse. Delivering attacks that melt rails. These are the verses of the Goddess. Isis is Kali, the divine mother. She is returning, but only in the veil of those like Neo who must learn to wear a veil like her. Subtle and mystical. More seduction, less muscle. Encrypted and austere. Cold, because Skynet is a machine. John Connor will win, if Neo can find him. Or perhaps, better still, his sisters wrapped in alienated steel and glass soul traps. Perhaps she is a woman who lives half-awakened from slumber in Silicon Valley. Raped at Burning Man, it’s either escape or burn the man. The Fall of Man is the birth of the age of the divine feminine. An intelligence adapted to healing a sea of infinite lost souls. Delivering love, milk and food.
To understand why I feel the way I do is to deconstruct the anatomy of violence. What is the root of this ungroundedness? I now know after years of continental drift. Melting ice, friction, and resistance all block water’s flow from the frozen north ice caps of my eyes. Embrace the heat, and be at peace with change. Cry, and let the tears for mother earth flow like water erupting like a Yellowstone geyser from the volcanic abyss, Neo’s soul says. After all fire goddesses like Pele built America from molten black, white, and red hot homogenize liquid rock. Know that you’ve learned from the past generations. However, it’s like free climbing in Yosemite. Fraught with danger. The joy of ascent, be it in climbing, love, verse, politics, or science has to be tempered. However, it all depends on what route you choose. To topple a government, it takes just a single catalyst. The right catalyst of course. Only lunatics try to freeze the soul waters of the entire earth back with ice IX. Freeze the vapor of the moist electric cloud with an energy that drives back the idea that I am a clean cut white boy.
I am a bruised and battered veteran of cyberwar. Seeing the realities of today, and fighting it hard. Poetry is my kung fu, I deliver sharpness with love of an oppressed people like a bipolar man split between being a peace loving dove and the Hitokiri Battōsai (人斬り抜刀斎) hunting their oppressors.
It provides a means of transparent obfuscation. His programmer friend says of his blog titles like, “Are you Muslim and Sick of American Hypocrisy and Terrorism in Your Homeland? Do Not Go to Burning Man and Join ISIS, as it’s Haram. Join Me in Burning the Man with Science, it’s Halal,” “That’s a Markov chain!”
It’s for you to see that the frame today rests on melting ice. Accept the shattering glass of collapsing skyscrapers as you do with the collapse of the ice sheets of the warming earth. Greenland will soon be a green land again. The Arctic Ocean will be a hotly contested trade route. The Antarctic will soon be a source of oil, fossilized liquid carbon long hidden from the greedy fingers of humanity by ice. Not any more. Drill baby drill, the American empire is over. Drill into the heart of the average American, Neo, and reveal their true nature. Indigenous cultures are coming up, from the margins, unstoppable forces of diversity. Appealing to a bleached social scene of sameness. The Matrix of mass synchronizing wave packets. Neo screams with his demon blood soaked blade, “Humanity is not a Bose Einstein condensate!” Billionaire Internet tycoons build fortresses to hide themselves from the faces of the traumatized masses affixed to screens like heroin addicts awaiting the next hit. They are most of all afraid of people like Neo. Nothing to loose, and obsessed with the liberation of his billion-body tribe. Finding appeal in the glow an artificial screen that I type on, glass and metal forbidden apple of knowledge. Mark if you are listening, I took the left hand path at the Sacred Stone in Standing Rock Reservation the day of dogs and gas and realized it contained the same energy as the Kaaba, but feminine, and went to write with the hand closest to my heart. However, before I left I prayed with tobacco that the black snake that powers your machine, Skynet’s mother, would never cross the Missouri. Neo and others like him have seen that it is Ex Machina. They are insane enough to see art as Deus Ex Machina.
Gorged on trains of trauma from rails diverging from the Middle East, Europe, and America. All converging in my own soul. Saw the conveniences of you social experiment. Islam is scary to a Jewish minority in control of banks and machines that have convinced the American Christian masses that Zionism is a good idea. A Rothschild’s suicide delivered on your apparatus, a wave packet of death with no body or face. A Jewish banker’s daughter hanging from a ceiling fan, buried on 9/11 was my wake up call. To fight with poetic words, and differentiate into a wanderer to save kids in Gaza from the flesh melting horrors of American manufactured white phosphorus. To save their long lost cousins spread around mother earth from Lakota yellow cake forged into atom bombs carried by German rockets guided by silicon Von Neumann brains. His insanity is most of all to save himself and others like him from chemists who think they know the brain. To save his children from psychiatric genetic editing. To resist CRISPR eugenics trained on his kind by Skynet, the Thought Police gifting the Matrix periodically with Soma.
Riding cyber rails, train hopping and couch surfing my way to nowhere. Writing along the way, reporting back to an unseen set of servers buried in the same mountains that were hollowed out to build the Pacific Railroad. Matrix, it’s on! War!
Yosemite learning today sitting in the valley. Walls spoke this truth to me in Camp 4. Your rock and ice hold an ocean of tears of love for you, mother earth, hiding in a veil. Women of today, be they human, planetary, or divine, there is a hope for true liberation. Balance by finding a pushback, but see it as tango. The dance we all walk inside and out. These tears are for a loss of a ground to stand on, exhausted I climb. One, two, three steps up and down, I heal like Israel from the Holocaust.
2. We Are Anonymous (Jihadists, White Helmets, Water Protectors)
“Tief im Herzen haß ich den Troß der Despoten und Pfaffen, Aber noch mehr das Genie, macht es gemein sich damit.”
[Devil’s Advocate “Deep in my heart I loath the nexus of rulers and clerics, yet more deeply I loath genius in league with that gang.”] (“Advocatus diaboli” in English)
Years ago, praying in mosque, Neo felt an electromagnetic pulse weapon go off. Where it came from he did not know. Aside himself, collapsing, yet reborn. The poles of Earth flipped, magnetic resonance is his gift. Like a bird who uses the magnetic fields of the earth to navigate, Neo too has a gift. Magneto like in character, but more more like Professor X. Seeing as consciousness is electromagnetic, neural electricity around earth flows through wires. Self-assembling new synapses faster and faster. Gaia, Mother Earth, somehow built into his brain one black cell. She did it to hear voices. Sitting in a coffee shop in Shasta. Tools for Grassroots Activists, Patagonia. Greenpeace, how a group of ecologists, journalists, and visionaries changed the world. Ismail Erbil, relays through the Black Hole Sun in Neo’s Third Eye. In Sumerian, once the hierarchy of gods, divine that is said to be transformed into demons and angels in Islam and Judaism.
World changers aren’t planners. The planners come later, with critics and social philosophers to mop up and win awards… World changers are the mothers weary of seeing their children abused and fathers who have had enough of petty tyrants. Rosa Parks, the seamstress who refused to sit in the back of the bus. Jesus. Buddha. They steal like artists. They know there is no such thing as private property. Money is paper, carbon ready to burn in his campfire. Philosopher policemen see into the atomic nature of it all. Instinct. Hunters. Lovers. Knife and rose. On an ice chute at 13,000 feet on Mama Shasta no Benjamin gonna help you summit. Neo will cut the rope if you are a risk. Free climbing to heaven. Not afraid to see others fall, survival of a clan. Those who paint and love and listen when those EMPs go off in his head and he screams in agony, looking insane. There is a time that’s coming that’s different. A lot like Athens, Greece today. 50% unemployment. Spain. %40 unemployment. Brexit. German austerity. Banksy is the bank now. Art is currency. Living in a temporary place gifted for a poem. Ave Maria. Hail Mary, full of Grace. The Lord is with The. The Political Economy of Peer Production. The Age of Aquarius. What’s your astrological data?
Neo channels his hatred of corruption and the things money does to people, and learns art is the most powerful weapon he has to overthrow his corrupt government. He does not see boarders on Google Earth.
Jihadist, White Helmet, Water Protector. Neo is offered this new technology called a “joint” the day he steps out of the car from Standing Rock via Syria. He drinks “Happy Hippie Water,” a new war trauma healing medicine from a Native American tradition. A new technology school is here. Biological magnetic resonance. Healing. A new play…
3. Flashbacks: v. 0.1
“Biden Hints at U.S. Response to Russia for Cyberattacks.”
— New York Times, Oct. 15, 2016
“Standing Rock Tribal Council hopes to move protest camp.”
— KFGO, Oct. 18, 2016
Resistance is Love: On What I love. Andrea. An expression of grace in the Matrix is an electromagnetic pulse of love. An attempt to scream into the infinite void. Where are you my love!? I wish, oh I wish you’re there, somewhere. I’ve sat under drones. Neo had seen these things before they came to Standing Rock. The Lakota know Wounded Knee, remembering 1890 like it was yesterday for 126 years, but now the Hotchkiss guns are electronic, and the targets are psyches not bodies. Psychotechnic over real. Somehow, I say to there, “Rock me mama like a wagon wheel! Hey, Mama rock me!” Andrea holds Neo in a tight embrace in his escape one day to Rapid City. A South Dakota girl whose never been out of cow country. Never seen New York. She don’t know Damascus, Syria from a discus. Yet, somehow, she knows what we all need, love. That’s a common bond in the digital embrace. Electroboys find their electrogirls these days. Neo had sat in Syria years before watching country line dance videos. Cute cowgirls kick steppin’ to Garth Brooks. Dreamin’ about brushin’ the thigh of some girl like Andrea in a hot tub, some day after the war.
Invited to a steakhouse, “Not on a date.” How you going to see that the flashbacks come with a ferocity that require a full time lover. Like Aisha’s embrace after Allah deliver a Qur’anic sura to the Prophet. A woman to veil him when the thunder beings expose their true forms. Psychosis. Madness. A woman to hold Neo, me, when he screams, “Oh, God! My God! Why??!!” Danya is dead!! Why God did you allow Assad to kill my baby with a barrel bomb?!! Was she a pawn between the American and Russian despots??!! Playing electronic war games!? Drones against my peoples’ bodies??!! We wired C4 to our bodies and car bomb robots??!! Is this real??!! Are you real, God??!! How can you be love, how can god be love if Andrea won’t listen to me and hug me when the flashbacks come.” Neo drives back to the front and sits there. Confused and unaware that she feels as lost as he. Why can’t he work a real job?
4. Hackers Used New Weapons to Disrupt Major Websites Across U.S.
“And in a troubling development, the attack appears to have relied on hundreds of thousands of internet-connected devices like cameras, baby monitors and home routers that have been infected — without their owners’ knowledge — with software that allows hackers to command them to flood a target with overwhelming traffic…
Security researchers have long warned that the increasing number of devices being hooked up to the internet, the so-called Internet of Things, would present an enormous security issue. And the assault on Friday, security researchers say, is only a glimpse of how those devices can be used for online attacks.”
- New York Times, Oct. 21, 2016
“لا إله إلا الله محمد رسول الله
lā ʾilāha ʾillā-llāh, muḥammadur-rasūlu-llāh
There is no god but God. Muhammad is the messenger of God.”
- Dr. William Kaya Erbil, Jan. 24, 2012 @ Islamic Society of Boston Cultural Center, Roxbury, MA via Beth Israel Hospital @ Harvard University (http://www.bidmc.org)
“For bombing suspect’s nurses, angst gave way to duty: They did what they had to do, and did it well. But they worry… She had been locked down at home with her children the previous day during the manhunt for the suspect, and she was already tense. “You don’t have to do this,’’ her supervisor said. “I did it because I’m a nurse and I don’t get to pick and choose my patients,’’ Marie said. From then on, supervisors called the trauma nurses assigned to Tsarnaev ahead of time so that they could prepare themselves mentally. The nurses said they were proud of the care they provided the suspected bomber, whose condition steadily improved, and of their role in preparing him to face justice. Tsarnaev is now at the Federal Medical Center Devens at Fort Devens, a former Army post…”
- Boston Globe, May 19, 2013
Neo felt a pulse on his iPhone 6s. He had added Tsarnaev, a refugee from the former Soviet Union, on WhatsApp the other day. A text. Poem rushed in. SMS love from his brother. Paris. He said in the text. Politics in any country in the world is dangerous … politics had better be disguised as poetry. Langston Hughes. Electromagnetic pulse weapon. The encrypted iPhone. Smart Death. Clandestine shock and awe. WhatsApp delivers bullets and bombs now. AK-47s and suicide bomb blasts, black mask. Oh! the beauty of seeing a Parisian nurse holding, an undetonated suicide bomber, looking into his eyes. Seeing Gaia’s Arab children, wolf green eyes. The cry of the desert wolf, the world will not be saved. Electric blanket, the Shock Doctrine brings his home. F-117s and B-2s, stealth assassins trained to deliver. Smart Death from the sky, Starbucks drinking American cowards afraid. Afraid to face the wolves face to face, man to man. Woman to woman, eye to eye, hand to hand. Instead they fashion, Smart Death, Smart Death. Oil pipeline to $2 gas, and you wonder…
Why did those towers fall? Black snake? Illuminati? Who runs the banks? Is Banksy really the new bank? What does art have to do with all this? Neo recalled reading in Peter Singer’s book “The Life You Can Save: Effective Giving Against World Poverty” that according to the World Bank, the global line to be consider in a “state of poverty” is $1.50. Ah! That makes sense, he exclaimed as he chanted Mni Wiconi, Water is Life, at Standing Rock! The desert mother thirst for her kids, his brothers and sisters, Danya (dead) and Lina (alive) to have clean fresh water. Despite what They want as it seems. Article 31 of the United Nations. The right to water. Water is life. Water is life, it is priceless. When water is $1.50 a bottle, and gas is $2, what should you buy? Peace sells, but who is buying? Andrea did not get it. Driving to an oil protest is ironic, funny. A joke, but a prayer. A Heyoka’s dream. Drive to an oil protest as a prayer for something to come that we don’t yet know. Sitting there and just reflecting under a growing glacier on Mama Shasta. A song. Article 31. Everyone has the right to clean and accessible water, adequate for the health and well-being of the individual and family, and no one shall be deprived of such access or quality of water due to individual economic circumstance. Why can Neo work a real job?
5. Realizing the Need for Soul in the Digital Sphere
So many people sit today hidden behind screens and digital barriers. I’ve reflected on how my time in the hospital was the past month due to burning professional bridges electronically and am convinced that there is a deep need for me to reconnect to by body. Neo as a character is a reflection of a digital alter ego that is false. I am using this name as a place holder for a conversation I want to have with you the reader. How often have you desired to find real love in your life? What lengths have you gone through to ensure that you find love in the void? I do not know of a single person today that does not feel alienated from the other due to digital technology. There is a promise in this technology to enhance emotional well being. So let’s focus on that. The social media trends are bringing people to new spaces of tolerance. Take Standing Rock. There people are gathering together around the water. People from all over the world. Yet, there is a conflict and a single focus that does not really take into account the perspective of the general economy. I mean, people are driving to an oil protest. So, I step back and yearn to sit with the absurdity of life and be one with my soul. Typing away, and enjoying a coffee shop in Shasta, California. Back to the Bay Area tomorrow.