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deirdre-martin · 2 years

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The current technological state in juvenile detention facilities....

I was recently watching a TED talk about building the sustainability of the digital divide given by Mike Lindsay who described this phenomenon as the lack of infrastructure to provide easy access to the internet in rural and remote parts of the world. He added that this phenomenon also existed within different demographic areas within our society that contained low-income populations. (Lindsay, 2019) It immediately occurred to me that the one specific, habitually invisible population was not mentioned as part of this group, students within juvenile justice facilities.

As an audience comprised of teachers and administrators within this system, we are all collectively aware of the perpetual disenfranchisement of this group of students from educational pathways and services provided for non-incarcerated populations, despite all our collective efforts to stem the tide of that reality. Despite mountains of research validating education as a primary deterrent to the commission of crimes, priorities related to the security, safety and general well-being of each resident continues to drive decision making within the systems. How then can we as educators mitigate this reality and create an open, sustainable conduit into this expanding digital universe for students who will ultimately reintegrate into society?

Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics (STEM) initiatives have become a major educational priority throughout the nation and the world, the gold standard for real world application through authentic context, hand-on learning and innovative teaching methodologies. (Schrum, 2018) In the context of what we experience on a daily basis, struggling against multiple factors like budgeting, staffing, security priorities, materials, etc., it seems nearly futile to even attempt a conversation about how to create an inroad to this learning for our students, knowing that the outside world is moving at warp speed to align itself with the Internet of things.(IoT) Few are aware of the limitations we face daily, not only including restrictions about the introduction of innovative materials to meet the learning needs of the students, but the fact that they cannot and do not have access to the internet, as both are considered security issues. (Harrington, 2022)This situation is not specific to one or two institutions, but impacts on hundreds if not thousands of incarcerated, disadvantaged youth throughout the country.

This reality is a constant, and, while there is hope that someday security governors over the technology for these students will be discovered, we have an obligation to find alternative pathways of access beyond these constraints to plug up this leak in the STEM pipeline for them. A collective initiative must be reached to explore innovative applications which can be utilized to usher students gradually toward a STEM based pathway to establish an entry point when the technology is finally available to them

References

Linday, M. (2019, June 26). How do we bridge the digital divide sustainably? [Video]. TED

Conferences. https://m.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=12&v=BwhhhlNBnMrg

Harrington, K. (2022).Transforming education in the juvenile justice system with technology,

University of Massachusetts Amherst, https://www.umass.edu/education/values/transforming-education-juvenile-justice-system-technology

Schrum, L. (2018). Learning supercharged, International Society for Technology in Education

Challenges and Advantages

Change or paradigm shifts involving alternative methodologies have to be approached slowly requiring discussions, planning, goal setting, monitoring and review and modifications, regardless of the proposal complexity. We have to look at this new pursuit in minimal increments, to provide the level of supervision and support necessary for sustainability. Applications need to be introduced within incubator scenarios, allowing a platform of safety to test and document ideas within a controlled environment to facilitate decision making about adjustment to ensure sustainability and our ability to duplicate practices. Initially, soft skill engagement; critical thinking, collaboration, decision-making, etc. (Schrum, 2018) can provide the jumping off point and are skills sorely needed to be addressed within this population. Introducing these concepts through minimally invasive, innovative learning methodologies and applications which align with collaborative game play frameworks, not only creates pathways into ultimate STEM understanding but new realities about the world they will re-enter by learning and developing the social skills necessary for task completion. In addition, gamification of concepts, without actually turning the learning into a game, minimizes the “do-over” ideology, a very toxic mindset within the criminal mentality. (Gilyazova, 2020)

If done with vigilance and thoroughness, the likelihood of success can be maximized, and the results presented before the powers that be to stimulate interest in seeking alternative technological choices for expanding the program toward direct engagement. Without substantiated data, we know that the likelihood that larger financial investments can or will be justified is negligible. (Hewk et al., 2019) Decisions for support on the executive level require a level of substantiation for them to go beyond their comfort zones as they relate to funding and other considerations of logistical challenges.

References

Gilyazova, O. (2020). Gaming practices and technologies in education: their educational

potential, limitations and problems in the world-of-work and world-of-play, Revista Tempo e Espacos en Educacao, 13 (32), 1-23

Hewk, K., Tang, M., Crengyan, J., & Chun, K. (2019). Where is the “theory” within the field of

educational technology, British Journal of Educational Technology, 50 (3), 956-971

Schrum, L. (2018). Learning supercharged, International Society for Technology in Education

Possibilities?

The field of vision when looking for solutions outside the box to address these needs is very narrow. I have found three extremely exciting applications that I am confident will provide the foothold into successful incubator programs for everyone to harness, implement and document to increase the power of the argument in support of these kids and access to the metaverse.

The first application I found with endless possibilities is for Code.com (https://code.org/curriculum/unplugged ). WOW! Lessons are specifically designed for students that are “unplugged”, meaning that they will be working with pen to paper and some assortment of materials or materials. What is particularly awesome is that it provides lesson plans which identify a specific concept related to coding and, in many cases, videos which can be downloaded by teachers to a SMART screen. Each of the lessons can be adapted by the teacher to meet the learning needs and instructional levels of students and therefore are planning gold. In the drop-down menu they also provide additional projects, catalog, and support links for questions.

Who knew that NASA itself had an app that would be so motivational and chock full of information relating to every aspect of STEM

Learning (https://www.nasa.gov/audience/foreducators/best/edp.html )

Talk about complex adaptive systems! This second site also integrates all aspect of literacy engagement for teachers to tap into and provides a drop-down menu of multiple topics, missions, images, etc. for direct engagement into subjects specific to their mission. I found an interactive asset which, I have to admit, took me on a journey that captivated my interest for quite a while.(https://www.jpl.nasa.gov/edu/learn/project/make-a-scale-solar-system/)

A video is provided which is most enlightening and interesting and includes a projects list and an opportunity for the students to decide which way they will approach this assignment. Students have the opportunity to decide what kind of model and location they will chose, and then mathematical calculations must be done to create scale and planet size. They take the project-based learning through to the actual display and presentation leaving no holes in the planning. The range of topics and information is instantly engrossing, and I am hard pressed to imagine that students will not love it.

Everyone needs to be on the lookout for the release of the last app through the University of Massachusetts (https://www.umass.edu/education/values/transforming-education-juvenile-justice-system-technology)

which I am including as my third site recommendation because it is the first one that has been specifically designed to address the educational needs of the juvenile justice population through technology. the designer(s) of the program demonstrates a full understanding of the barriers in servicing this population but has developed an iPad integration which will align with those concerns. Take the time and watch the video for a more complete idea of its implications. (https://www.umass.edu/news/article/college/education%E2%80%99s-project-raise-video)

What I know

Those of us who have been strong enough to withstand conditions of being an educator within the juvenile justice system are fiercely loyal and dedicated advocates for those within our charge, realizing the impact of huge gaps in educational parity for a population of students already experiencing huge gaps in their educational histories. When speculating about sustained recidivism rates, one only must go beyond the curtain to see why reintegration for these residents is so unsuccessful, returning to their school districts unprepared, jumping back in like uncoordinated double-Dutch participants.

Most of these residents are examples of the Matthew effect, starting at a disadvantage and becoming more disadvantaged over time unlike their counterparts, the advantaged, who start that way and accumulate more advantages over time. This situation is not new and recorded early in scripture, “For whoever has will be given more, and they will have abundance. Whoever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them.” (New International Version, 2022, Matthew 25: 29-30) This disparity, seen in this blog as the digital divide, is no exception. Some see this situation, the inability to bridge the educational or technological gap, as a byproduct of modern capitalism (Henricks, 2018) putting these students in a category of collateral damage. Those servicing these individuals, however, will see this attempt to find alternative passageways into technological savvy as a first attempt in creating the momentum of a virtuous cycle for sustainable growth and success.

References

Henricks, S. (2018). The Matthew effect: is inequality just a fact of the universe, Big Think,

https://bigthink.com/politics-current-affairs/is-there-a-scientific-law-stating-thatinequality-is-a-fact-of-the-universe/

New International Version Bible. (2022). NIV

Online, https://www.biblegateway.com/versions/New-International-Version-NIV-Bible

#education #learning #teaching #students #higher education #teachers #correction #juvenile detention

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maddiviner · 4 years

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It’s time for some juicy cryptid gossip!

Everyone has heard of Bigfoot, but what is it, really? A flesh and blood ape, or something even weirder? Today, we’ll be looking at Bigfoot and related concepts.

I wanted to interview Bigfoot himself, but ultimately decided it would be easier and less dangerous just to interview noted Fortean author Josh Cutchin.

Cutchin’s new two-part book series, Where the Footprints End focuses on Bigfoot and some of the weirder phenomena that tend to pop up surrounding this strange and hypothetical critter. This interview features discussion of Bigfoot as well as other interesting phenomena, usually known under the collective heading of High Strangeness...

Eliza: “There’s a lot of people who read my blog and other esoteric sites who really want to experience High Strangeness. There’s running jokes about going out into the forest wearing a red coat and picking berries in mysterious areas, in an attempt to encounter something. Mostly, this is just a joke, but a few people are quite serious about wanting to experience an encounter. Do you believe it is possible (or advisable) to go looking for that kind of encounter?”

Josh Cutchin: “It’s absolutely possible to seek these things out, and probably easier than a lot of us imagine. There are a few different approaches, mostly seeking out locales or altered states of consciousness. A good week’s worth of overnight stays at any ‘haunted’ location will probably yield some good stories, at the very least… then there’re occult disciplines, which I won’t delve into, that seem to have pretty striking results. While not necessarily endorsing it, a healthy dose of psychedelics will induce an altered state of consciousness as well, one which may have residual paranormal effects beyond whatever you encounter on your ‘trip.’

Advisable? That’s another topic entirely. Jeff Ritzmann—who sadly passed away a few days ago—had a method he viewed as successful for contacting the paranormal, but also highly volatile. On its simplest level, his technique involved meditating in any semi-isolated location (you can learn more from his November 2017 interview on Greg Bishop’s Radio Misterioso). Jeff always stressed two things: one, that the contact would come in whatever form you didn’t expect; and two, that this Other, whatever it is, wants that which is stable in your life, that which you value, and you should be prepared to lose relationships, finances, even loved ones.

It’s a sobering proposition.”

Eliza: “In the book, you talk about lures for Bigfoot. You mention that some people leave out gifts for him, often with disastrous consequences. As you mention in many of your books (A Trojan Feast, Thieves in the Night), giving gifts to these sort of entities seems to have a lot of significance and unintended results. What do you think is the root of the gifting fascination with these critters, regardless of what they are?”

Josh Cutchin: “If I had to hazard a guess, it all ties back to man’s earliest attempts to appeal to divine intervention, of burnt offerings and sacrifices. Offering consumables—food, drink, tobacco, et cetera—is a universally-held means of breaching whatever barrier separates us from the gods, the dead, and the spirit world. A direct line of belief can be traced from these older practices to things all of us do, even those not involved in the paranormal… take, for example, leaving cookies out for Santa Claus, or ‘pouring one out’ for a dead friend.”

Eliza: “Do you think that the various phenomenon described in your book, from the classical Bigfoot sightings, to the strange lights, and voices heard in the wilderness could all have the same cause? Or, do you hold the view that we’re dealing with different things that coincide?”

Josh Cutchin: “Some days, I think these topics are separate but overlap in significant ways. Others, I’m convinced they’re all the same thing, wearing different masks. My coauthor Timothy Renner said it elegantly: ‘Bigfoot may be the rarest and most sophisticated version of whatever this phenomenon is.’ I might take that one step further and posit anomalous lights—which are found in every paranormal topic—are the most common, simplest version of whatever the phenomenon is. Truth be told, that may be as close to ‘an answer’ as we get.”

Eliza: “From your books, I learned the difference between the usual “flesh and blood hypothesis” (F&BH) about Bigfoot, versus other perspectives. For readers who are unaware, there’s something of a debate whether Bigfoot is a physical animal, or… something else. Throughout both book, though, I couldn’t help but feel that you believe the evidence points away from F&BH. Would that be accurate to say?”

Josh Cutchin: “I’ve often said that every other discipline of paranormal study has ‘Bigfoot Envy,’ that there is more physical evidence for the existence of bigfoot than anything else in the paranormal. We have immaculately detailed footprints, alleged hair, blood, even droppings. All of it points firmly to a large, undiscovered primate…

… until you start listening to eyewitness accounts. Not every time, but certainly a lot of times there are anomalies that cannot be accounted for from a Materialist/Physicalist perspective, no matter how hard one works backwards from their preferred conclusion. Even some cases cryptozoologists like to cite as supporting the F&BH (like the Fred Beck ‘Ape Canyon’ events) contain outliers like poltergeist activity, abruptly ending trackways, et cetera. The supernatural seems at odds with the physical evidence until one considers that things like psi effects and ghosts—two phenomena we would all agree, if they exist, are intangible—can leave physical changes on our world.

If bigfoot are indeed flesh-and-blood creatures, they are, as Timothy says, ‘masters of evolution,’ with several abilities no other creature on Earth possesses!”

Eliza: “I enjoyed reading the accounts in the second volume of Where the Footprints End, but found much of it unsettling. Do you think that fear is a normal human reaction to High Strangeness, or something more related to existing societal views? I ask this because there’s been some debate amongst my friends about this. Also, many of my readers pride themselves in being comfortable with all kinds of strange things, but that might not well be the initial reaction in many cases.”

Josh Cutchin: “I think it’s probably like swimming with sharks. It’s natural to be terrified of one. Doesn’t mean it’ll harm you (though it certainly could). It’s a natural reaction, and it exists for a reason, for self-preservation. Over time you can desensitize yourself from that fear, maybe even handle the darn things… but there’s always a risk it could hurt or kill you.

I think the shark metaphor is apt, because—while there are undoubtedly a lot of evilly-aligned forces out there—I think most paranormal things are neutral, maybe even disinterested in us, but dangerous by nature. Like sharks!”

Eliza: “Can you imagine a time, in the the future, perhaps, when these sort of things are, in fact, understood by humanity? Do you think we’ll ever figure it out, so to speak? Someday, will Bigfoot and other High Strangeness phenomenon be explainable? Or, perhaps, are these things always going to elude us in their exact nature?

Josh Cutchin: “I think there’s the chance they’ll be accepted, but never understood. I think we’re already on the road to accepting the existence of the paranormal (or, should I more accurately say, re-accepting, since we obviously respected them in our past). But I think the ‘understanding’ part is why they’ve always seemed mysterious, and I think that may well be the part. The paranormal is a birthright for every human being, and an important component of our existence… but we were never meant to understand it. Not in the plane of existence, at least.”

Thanks so much for this interview, Josh! Your work is thought-provoking and as fascinating as it is unsettling!

I think I speak for everyone when I say that this interview helped me to understand High Strangeness and how it relates to other paranormal topics. If you’ve got an interest in the paranormal or High Strangeness, I definitely recommend checking out Cutchin’s books here.

Both volumes of Where the Footprints End are now available in ebook and print. Cutchin has also written books on other, non-Bigfoot aspects of these phenomena. These include Thieves in the Night, a look at supernatural abduction legends, Trojan Feast (about food in High Strangeness encounters) and The Brimstone Deceit (focused on scents and the paranormal).

So, thoughts, everyone? Have you experienced High Strangeness in your lifetime? Do you WANT to experience it? Does it frighten you? My views are mixed...

#witchblr #cryptid #cryptidcore #bigfoot #aliens #faerie #occult #paranormal #high strangeness #eliza.txt #eliza reads #fae #fairy #fairyland #ufo #extraterrestrial #encounters

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glassworkspiderlilies · 4 years

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every ribbon you used (to tie yourself to me)

Genshin Impact | Albedo & Rhinedottir, Albedo/Lumine | AO3 Summary: A life is created within a flask and learns to be human. A shooting star from another world falls to the earth. There are words for such things, and for when such things come together. And when they fall apart. (Sometimes, even when a Prince and a Princess meet against the odds, they do not get idyllic ever afters.) Notes: approx 9k words. another albelumi fic that i basically speedwrote to ride the strength of my albedo feelings before xiao drops bc i don’t trust my own fickleness!! aka...will i abandon my sad good boy for one (1) sad rudeass boy....:'(

“Look at her, touching his cheek to make a truce, her fingers cool with spring rain; in thin grass, bursts of purple crocus—

even here, even at the beginning of love, her hand leaving his face makes an image of departure and they think they are free to overlook this sadness.”

—From “The Garden”, by Louise Glück

Albedo’s first memory is, of course, of his Master. His vision is filled with her when he is newly born, and though the sight from within the flask is a little distorted, he knows the hands that created him. Much later, when he gains the knowledge to formulate opinions, he will describe her as stern and severe, but at present, scant moments after his birth, his Master smiles at him with something that might be affection.

Otherwise, Albedo does not remember much of his early, early life. Still so new to existence as a whole, it was a long process to just learn—to learn to learn. He starts from the very basics on how to function like a human being, especially once he outgrows his flask. By all appearances, he is a human, and the differences are minute, or simply indiscernible by humans proper.

To breathe, to eat, to talk, to move. The constant asking of questions comes much later, when he becomes an actual thinking being—and that is when he earns his name too: Albedo, the stage of alchemy in which change begins. Rhinedottir is exceedingly patient with him, never once growing angry at the crawling slowness of this entire process.

She knew, and still knows, what it means to take responsibility for one’s actions.

Once Albedo becomes—properly situated, he takes to learning anything and everything with a voracious appetite. This appears to please his Master as she teaches him everything she knows—and her knowledge never seems to run out. She seems to have an answer for everything, though she does not always give them to him so readily, preferring that he come to his own conclusions with less guidance now that he can think for himself. Eventually, she starts asking him questions, knowing he does not have an answer. He learns to formulate his own theories and conduct his own experiments in order to find them, and such projects take anywhere from a few scant minutes to several years. Both of them are rarely working on only one thing; there is always some study or another in progress, and Albedo does not think it remiss to think that Rhinedottir is pleased to have another being keep up with her. His Master has had other students before, he learns, but none whom she could impart her knowledge to so fully, for various reasons.

It is a joy, for a very long time, to live his life like this. There is simply so much, to do and see and hear and figure out. But as the months pass, then years, then decades…life begins to grow monotonous.

It is not that he begrudges it overmuch—Rhinedottir still has things to teach, orders to give, and expectations to be met, which only increase in difficulty. Still, he comes to recognize a certain dullness in his pattern, and he cannot fully ignore this knowledge now that he is aware of it.

Nevertheless, his routine has been as such for so long that he does not even consider the possibility of it changing.

But it does, one day, when the sky lights up in a brilliant blaze of solar gold and electric white, and a shooting star plummets to the earth.

It is a phenomenon that even his Master has never seen in all her years, so it is inevitable that they go searching. The landing site of the mysterious star is not so far away according to Rhinedottir’s calculations, which furthers the imperative nature of their search—for how could they pass up such a golden opportunity for an absolutely unprecedented study? Albedo feels excitement beat warm in his chest, primarily owed to his Master’s enthusiasm. It is a new expression on her, this anticipation, which he finds fascinating; it is exceedingly rare that he is able to observe new facets of his Master. Even after all this time, there is still much he does not know about her, and she thus remains one of the greatest mysteries in his life.

Neither of them make any fantastical preemptive guesses as to what they might find from such an occurrence, but they do consider unusual possibilities—though logically, the basis will likely be rock Yet despite their openness of mind, they are not prepared to find what they do: an unconscious young girl, dressed in foreign white clothes, curled up in the center of a scorched crater.

Rhinedottir, usually always so sure of herself, checks her coordinates again to make sure there is no mistake.

“Well,” she says finally, moving closer to the figure, “This is unexpected, indeed.”

She tries to wake the girl to no avail. Albedo half-unpacks their supplies to take out his sleeping bag, unzipping it and laying it over the strange girl in attempts to keep her warm. After she is neatly tucked in, the two of them set up camp a little ways away, so as not to startle her overmuch with strangers looming over her when she does wake.

The girl opens her eyes as they are making dinner for the night, the slight rustling of the sleeping bag alerting Albedo and Rhinedottir of her wakefulness. They watch from the distance as she sits up, slow and lethargic as if every bone in her body hurts. She turns her head to the side a little then looks up to the sky, not yet spotting them, coming to the realization that she is in an unfamiliar place.

A small sound escapes her, like an aborted sob, hopeless and despairing.

It is at that moment that the wood in their fireplace pops, and her head swivels around at the loud noise. She throws herself back when she spots them, a sword suddenly in her hand, her stance combative; she says—something, her voice sharp and demanding, but they do not understand whatever language it is that she speaks.

Rhinedottir raises an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of a weapon from thin air, but puts out her hands in a placating manner to show that she means no harm. The girl glances at Albedo, who inclines his head towards her in greeting and continues to stir the stew that is beginning to bubble.

Her sword disintegrates from her grip as she does so, much to the alchemists’ surprise. To her credit, she seems to work out the situation fairly quickly, and slowly makes her way to the fire. It is not so much trust but logic that wins out—given their already laid out camp, if they had wanted to do her harm, they would have done so earlier when she was unconscious. She does not miss the sleeping bag that had been draped over her either, and brings it with her, saying something that might be a thanks when Albedo reaches out to take it.

Gingerly, she sits down, drawing her knees up and crossing her arms atop them as she stares into the flames, then looks between Rhinedottir and Albedo. She says—or asks—something, but neither Master nor student can understand her, and they reply so in Teyvat Common. She furrows her brows and tries again, as if testing whether or not they are pretending, a lengthy monologue spilling forth. But after a while, they notice that the sounds and syllables change every so often, and realize that she must be trying other languages as well.

But no matter how many she knows, it becomes apparent that she does not know Common.

Her distress grows as they fail to recognize sentence after sentence, and she eventually falls quiet, looking close to tears before she buries her face in her arms. Rhinedottir is nevertheless even more fascinated, for even though they cannot communicate at present, it is evident that the girl is something extraordinary.

Albedo too, is curious, if perhaps in a different way. There is something—familiar, about her situation, something that he thinks he might be able to understand. He finds himself reaching out a hand, lightly touching her arm to draw her attention. She raises her head, blinking as she focuses on him, her eyes both wary and despairing.

He points to himself, then enunciates his name very slowly.

“Al-be-do,” he says, and then, pointing to his Master, “Rhine-do-ttir.”

The girl’s lips purse, and he repeats himself several times, until finally she puts a hand to her chest and stares him straight in the eye. He does not think he mistakes the brief flash of gratitude before she speaks.

“Lu-mine,” she says, and Albedo smiles.

Lumine has nowhere else to go, of course, and so it is a given that she travel with them. She seems alarmed at first when they pack up their camp, but is relieved when Albedo holds out his hand, and tilts his head in question.

She doesn’t take it, but she nods and follows after them.

She is merely a silent shadow for some time, trailing along and watching them perform their experiments, both combined and separate. It is interesting that she raises her brows at the alchemy, yet does not seem entirely surprised at the art.

Even so, she is not dead weight. She is an able fighter, a fair huntress, and surprisingly, a decent cook. For the two alchemists whose meals tend to be the same time after time and primarily focus on nutritional value only, her cooking skill may perhaps be the most valuable skill that she can offer.

Lumine’s most interesting skill, however, is solidly her fighting prowess. It’s the sword-summoning she had done that first night that draws their attention the most, initially, the weapon appearing out of thin air and disappearing the same way. She seems confused by their fascination with it, but patiently performs it a few times for their observation.

The three of them soon form a comfortable routine. Lumine does not speak again for quite some time, and while the alchemists are intensely curious, they give her the space that she needs. There is no point to rushing her.

When she does finally begin to warm, however, it is Albedo that she begins drifting closer to. It is likely because he looks to be of the same or similar age, and compared to the forbidding severity of Rhinedottir’s countenance, he is much more approachable.

Rhinedottir watches, the first time that Lumine engages Albedo first, bringing him an apple and making a questioning noise. He blinks at her, looking at the fruit in her hand.

“Apple?” he asks, and she tilts her head at him.

“Apple?” she repeats, very slowly, adjusting her mouth around the sounds.

“Apple,” Albedo repeats, also very slowly as he touches the fruit, understanding now what she is trying to do.

“Apple,” Lumine says back, with the proper accent, her lips quirking up in a smile.

She says something more, then, and of course he does not understand, but she gestures to various things around her, then points back to herself. She taps two fingers to her lips, then holds them out to him, and then gestures between them both.

“Ah,” Albedo says, smiling back, “Yes, I will teach you.”

Rhinedottir watches this all, and wonders about the results that will come out of this union.

Lumine is a quick learner, picking up the basics of the language in a few scant months. In return, she begins teaching them a little of her own language—the one of her homeland, they learn much later on—but the accents and conjugations are much harder to get down, so utterly different from Common as it is.

Albedo takes to it far better, as he practices it more, fascinated by this new thing to learn given to him outside of his Master’s expectations. Lumine is inordinately pleased once he starts to string sentences together properly, and Albedo finds that he enjoys her pleasure.

In any case, they finally start to learn Lumine’s story from her in bits and pieces. She and her twin brother, Aether, spent their time traveling different worlds, but at some point, they had been blocked by some unknown god, and cruelly separated. The last she saw, the god had sealed her brother into a small red prison, and then done the same to Lumine.

When she woke up, she was here and stranded, without much of her previous powers.

Now, with enough language finally at her disposal, she can finally ask the question she has wanted to since the beginning, though she knows the answer by now.

“Have you seen him?” she asks, and Rhinedottir shakes her head.

“No, child, my apologies,” she says, and despite expecting this, Lumine’s face falls a little before she composes herself.

“I see,” she says softly, looking down.

She hesitates before she speaks again, meeting Rhinedottir’s eyes with determination, and without fear.

“I will leave you one day,” she says, and Rhinedottir smiles faintly.

“We all leave one another someday, child,” she replies, and Albedo glances at her, then at Lumine as well. “But you will stay for now, will you not?”

Lumine looks up at the sky for a moment before answering.

“Yes. I will.”

The years continue to pass less dully. Lumine picks up more and more of the common language, Albedo continues to pick up more and more of hers. She also learns a bit of alchemy during this time, enough to play assistant to the two alchemists proper if necessary.

And—also during this time, she consents to have tests and experiments run on her, in attempts to understand her better and perhaps find a way to regain her past abilities. Though she shows a little apprehension at first, the tests turn out to not be even remotely fearsome; she drinks potions and has her movements observed, and though the potions are not tasty and the physical regiments are sometimes rather strenuous, the tests are almost boring.

It is Albedo who does most of the testing and observing and compiling of research on Lumine, later bringing his notes to Rhinedottir for review. His Master is content to let the two youths spend more time together as she focuses on her own work—and anyway, unbeknownst to them, she is conducting her own new study. Albedo has grown much since his creation, and she tracks each minute difference—which have grown more steadily now—with precision. Lumine still has many unfathomable mysteries about her, but even so, Rhinedottir can see the changes about her as Albedo teaches her the names of various flowers and words like “grace”, “strength”, and “gentleness”.

In return, Lumine teaches him the words for “happiness”, “kindness”, and “warmth”.

These children know not what it is they are doing, Rhinedottir thinks, as she watches Lumine trace letters onto Albedo’s bare palm, but oh, she does, old crone as she may be.

And so, she watches, and does nothing to encourage or deny them.

Albedo cannot yet recognize what the slow molten, seeping feeling is that is growing inside of him, only that it reminds him of rubedo.

Lumine has an inkling of where the path of her feelings could go when she looks into Albedo’s sky blue eyes, but pushes it aside, for she cannot afford to take it.

He is not meant to share the secret of his birth—or rather, creation—carelessly, but Lumine is not just anybody, and nor does she seem particularly surprised by this revelation when he eventually entrusts her with this knowledge.

“Soil is the origin of alchemy, and the basis of all life,” he explains, using Lumine’s native tongue, for he likes the way her eyes shine when he does so, “And chalk, spotless soil, is the substance which primal life is molded.”

She hums, musing over this new information.

“And stars?” she asks, “What about stars?”

Albedo purses his lips, thinking.

“I don’t know,” he admits, “And it may be too difficult to be able to study, when one is so land-bound.”

She chuckles a little, tilting her head back to look at the sky.

“My first memory is of the sky,” she says, “And the light. So perhaps Aether and I were born of stardust. You said, didn’t you, that the day I appeared, I had looked like a shooting star?”

“It was a brilliant sight,” Albedo says, with a nod, “Neither Master nor I have seen anything like it, in all our years. Hmm…chalk and stardust…I wonder what could be created by the two combined?”

Lumine glances at him, eyebrow raised, but he is not looking at her nor thinking about the implications of what he’s said, hand to his chin in deep thought.

“Well, we are here,” she says after a pause, her tone light, “A child of chalk and a…potential child of stardust. What will you call us?”

He looks at her then, responding without hesitancy.

“Remarkable,” he declares, smiling.

Lumine’s eyes widen at his response, and then she throws her head back and laughs, bright and delighted.

“Yes,” she says, “Yes, remarkable indeed.”

There is a market happening in the nearest town, and so Rhinedottir sends Albedo and Lumine on an errand to pick up things they usually cannot get so easily. Normally, the three of them camp out when they can, and head into civilization only if strictly necessary—they cannot conduct the bulk of their experiments in such quarters as an inn. Of course, they must make exceptions when the weather turns for the worse, and there are no caves or such shelter to bunker in. But neither alchemist is overly fond of human interaction, and they avoid it to diminish various complications.

In the past, picking up supplies was a task Albedo had never thought much of previously. But now, with Lumine by his side, he finds that the errand has a new color. They peruse the market, Lumine looking around with more curiosity than he, and Albedo watches her take in the sights and wares. Since the time she has joined them, they have not had many chances to go into towns, and none so far had a market as lively as this—apparently due to some celebration going on.

Just as he is musing what kind of festival might be happening this time of year, he realizes that Lumine is no longer by his side, and has to backtrack a little to find her stopped in front of a taciturn stonecutter’s stall. Her fingers have half-lifted a pendant from his display closer to her as she scrutinizes the stone.

The man’s necklaces are no expert things, their focus mostly on the stones themselves with a chain looped through them, though some are a little more interestingly caged or bound with metal. The rather intimidating stonecutter himself does not push them to buy, and merely watches them with keen eyes as they browse.

“It is a good stone,” Albedo supplies as he steps closer, and Lumine looks to him. The stonecutter smiles faintly as well, pleased that someone is able to recognize its true worth. “I did not know you were interested in such things.”

“It’s the color of your eyes,” Lumine says simply, and Albedo blinks in surprise. “I’ll take this, sir.”

The man’s smile deepens as the transaction is completed, his visage not so frightening like this.

“If I may ask…” Lumine says, just a touch hesitantly, “If I…gave you a stone, could you make another pendant of it, like these?”

The man raises an eyebrow, but gestures for her to show him. She reaches into her pocket, then drops the stone into his palm. The stonecutter’s eyes shoot up when she moves her hand away, and Albedo also blinks at the multicolored facets of a kind of yellow diamond he has never seen before.

“…Best take it to a master,” the man says, but Lumine shakes her head.

“I haven’t the time,” she says, and Albedo blinks at her, unsure why she says such a thing, “Nor do I want this to turn into something too…flashy.”

The stonecutter hums, then shrugs, reaching for some tools, and they wait as he fiddles with the gem. In a few moments, he has it bound up in a simple cage of silver wire, and a chain looped through a little opening. Lumine smiles with satisfaction when he hands it back.

“How much?” she asks, and the man shrugs.

“No need,” he says, “Got to see something incredible. Not every day you get to see a stone like that. I’d like to ask dearly where you got it, but I shan’t.”

Lumine smiles, and pays him for the chain anyway.

They complete the rest of their task with quickly; Lumine says nothing more about her purchases, and Albedo does not ask.

It is Rhinedottir who notices something remiss with her when they return to their camp in the outskirts.

“Oh,” she says, “It is time, then?”

Lumine’s lips thin, her expression mulish as she tilts her head down a little.

“A few more days,” she sighs, not looking at her. “But no more.”

Albedo attends to his chores, and pretends not to know what they are speaking of.

It is a parting gift, the necklace she had made.

She drops it into his palm the day she leaves, looking apologetic. Albedo knew this day would come, of course, but it does not lessen the sting.

He stares at the pendant while Lumine says her goodbyes to his Master.

“You’ve come a long way,” Rhinedottir says, her gaze piercing, “Do you finally feel welcome in this world?”

Lumine glances at Albedo before looking back to the older woman.

“Perhaps,” she says, “But the red god did not call us Outlanders for nothing.”

Rhinedottir shrugs.

“Then make your place,” she says simply, “And you will be an outlander no longer.”

Lumine purses her lips in thought. But she is in no place to consider this with the depth that it needs at present.

“Thank you, Madam,” she says instead, “For your care and teachings all this time.”

Rhinedottir simply cackles and waves her hand before making her way back to the camp, so that the two youths may speak alone. There is no parting gift for her; she has no need for such sentimentality, and she has already been given the greatest gift by being able to observe and test and research this fallen star of a girl.

Lumine turns to Albedo, and the two are silent for a while. Then, she reaches out to take the necklace from his hand, and gently loops the chain over his head.

“Will you stay upset with me long?” she asks quietly.

Albedo looks down at the brilliant stone of the pendant against his chest, turning it this way and that in his fingers. It sparkles in different colors as it catches the light.

“Of course not. It is not—your fault.”

She smiles a little at that.

“Ah, but I am undeniably the cause.”

“We have known since the beginning that you would leave one day, to search out your brother. I must simply confess that I…enjoyed our time together so greatly that I no longer thought of that fact so consciously.”

He finally looks at her, and her breath hitches for a second. They stare at each other for a moment before she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the other necklace she had purchased at the stall, holding it out to him.

“Will you do the same for me, please?” she requests, and he complies.

He steps closer to put the chain over her head, and does not step away when he is done.

“I enjoyed our time, too,” Lumine whispers, her eyes gentle, “More than I thought possible, after I fell to this land. Thank you, Albedo, for…for bringing me back to life.”

He blinks, unnamable emotion welling up inside him, and he does not know what to do.

Lumine reaches out to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing gently across his skin, and he sighs as he leans into her touch.

“Do not forget me,” she murmurs.

“I will not,” he promises.

She smiles, and steps back, his skin cold when her hand leaves him.

“Goodbye,” she says.

“Goodbye,” he echoes.

He grips the pendant as he watches her go, and cannot help but wonder—

If finding those necklaces at the market spelled her departure…if she had not seen them, if he had not received this gift, would she have stayed a little longer?

He mopes afterwards, though he does not know it for what it is. Albedo is ashamed to say that he is unable to properly notice his own behavior until his Master snaps him out of it.

Rhinedottir does not do so in a scolding manner—rather, she brings it up lightly, with amusement.

“Tell me,” she says, her attention more on the bottle in her hand, as she shakes it and considers the changing color, “Do you know what it is you feel?”

He realizes he does not. There is an emptiness inside of him, not exactly great and yawning, but palpable and difficult to ignore. It is heavy even as it is intangible, and though it feels so much like a stone within his chest, he cannot take it and toss it away.

He is not miserable. With Lumine’s departure, his life has simply returned to its old routine with him and his Master. It is not even as dull as he remembers, and he is still glad to be by his Master’s side, learning and working alongside her. There is still value that he finds in his experiments, and meeting his Master’s high (and rising) expectations.

Except—every so often he cannot help but wonder…where is Lumine now, and how is she doing? Has she managed to find clues to her brother’s whereabouts, or has she found him entirely?

At night, Rhinedottir watches her protégé’s face furrowed in deep thought as he reflects upon himself. It is a difficult thing to do, but Albedo has always performed admirably, and this is yet another part of his growth. Distantly, Rhinedottir thinks that for the everyday person in a similar situation, what Albedo is currently experiencing is meant to be part of a rose-colored period in their life.

But she, he, and the one in his thoughts…well, none of them are everyday people.

Rhinedottir tucks a hand under her chin as she muses, ready when Albedo turns to her.

“Master,” he says, perfectly calm, “Is this loneliness?”

Only a faint upward twitch of her lips confirms the correctness of his answer.

“Albedo,” Rhinedottir says, “You have grown up well.”

He blinks, unsure of where this is going. Her praise never comes lightly, and she is not a warm person to give such compliments undue. This acknowledgement makes him…apprehensive.

“And yet, this is only the beginning,” she adds, and Albedo furrows his brows.

Rhinedottir turns away to prevent further discussion. Even with Lumine gone, there is still his Master. Though he has determined what loneliness is, he has not yet realized what it means to be alone.

He has grown well, and continues to do so—but this is not the first of hard lessons, nor will it be the last.

Change comes again some years later, in the form of a letter, delivered to them by the hands of a hilichurl.

It is Albedo who receives it. He’d been trying to observe the unique patterns on its mask that he has not seen before, but when it spots him, it calls out to him. His name is mangled, yet still recognizable, but despite the address the hilichurl is wary and holds out the letter as if it thinks it will be the last thing it does.

But it completes its mission; Albedo takes the envelope gingerly, nonplussed at this sudden, unexpected interaction.

The hilichurl scampers away the moment Albedo’s fingers close on the paper and secures it.

“Master,” he says, when she ambles up beside him, having noticed this interaction from afar, “Have you ever seen the like?”

“No,” she says, her voice absent as she stares at the envelope in his hand. “Open the letter, Albedo.”

He obeys. Inside in a single folded sheet, with a single line in careful print.

I’ve found my place.

“I see,” Rinedottir murmurs.

She looks thoughtful but says nothing else, merely looking to the sky before walking back to their camp.

Albedo stares at the letter, at the familiar handwriting, at the emptiness of the remaining space. He should be glad for Lumine, and gladder still that she has managed to notify them that she is alive and well.

But the fact that it arrives to them after all this time, not from her directly but in the hands of a hilichurl of all things…he knows how to read the letter for what it is.

A severance.

Her place is elsewhere, somewhere out of reach, some place that he cannot understand.

(And yet…to turn the unknown into the known…that is what he does.)

Albedo stays out for a long, long time, until the sun sets, and his fingers turn cold.

Rhinedottir watches as her boy stands outside in the wilderness and navigates through heartbreak.

When Albedo comes back to the fire to warm his hands, she smiles a little at the resolution set on his face. He has nothing to ask her.

Yes, she thinks.

Soon, she will have nothing left to teach him.

Albedo wakes one morning with his Master nowhere to be found.

Her tools are gone. Her notes are gone. Nearly every trace of the fact he had been traveling with another person is gone.

All she leaves behind is a note, a recommendation later, and the Opus Magnum, the ancient alchemical manuscript which she had so carefully protected during their travels.

He reads her note with trembling hands.

Albedo, when you have put your own affairs in order, go to Mondstadt. Find my old friend, Alice, and give her the recommendation letter. Complete your final assignment.

He surveys the camp once more when he is done, still in disbelief. His Master, Rhinedottir, suddenly gone from his life with nary a warning. He had feared such a thing before, that if he had failed to complete the assignment he’d been given, she would leave him—she had threatened to do so before often enough, as a motivator. But he had and has done everything she has asked, met every expectation and even beyond.

He had not thought that the opposite too could be true, that she would eventually run out of things to teach him, and leave him thus. What she deems her final assignment had not been delivered in any unusual manner the other day. The truth of this world…he had thought like any other task—that she already had the answer, and would watch over him like always as he struggled to reach the same enlightenment.

The sun is already high in the air but the morning is nonetheless dark. He cannot move. The routines he performed with his Master are gone, because his teacher is gone. Nothing is the same. He does not know how to adjust.

Albedo reads her letter over and over again, until he finally reads the recommendation letter she has left too. It is an impersonal detailing of his abilities and accomplishments—so like his Master, and not at all unexpected, and yet he feels emptier having read it.

“Master,” he whispers, “Is this what true loneliness feels like?”

It is more debilitating than he could have guessed.

He watches the sun rise and fall, rise and fall. He does not eat or sleep.

He does a study in hunger, in dehydration. In inertness. He presses his cheek to the ground and watches ants and beetles traverse the dirt. He is not looking to die—though he would not be able to die in this manner to begin with. But nor can he bring himself to move.

And then, one day, a sunsettia plops onto his head.

And then another, and another. He peels his eyes open and looks up to see a hilichurl retreating to a safe distance. It watches as he slowly rises to his knees before running away fully.

If he recalls correctly…it is the same one that had delivered him Lumine’s letter, the one with the unique mask patterns.

Lumine.

Do not forget me, she had said, and he promised that he would not. But he confesses he did, for this snatch of time where he could not think of anything at all.

Complete your final assignment, Rhinedottir had said, and as her loyal student, his compliance was inherent. But that is not the path is he currently on, nor attempting to be on.

…There are still things he has to do, wants to do.

Albedo eats the sunsettias slowly, and then goes searching for more when his stomach settles. The hilichurl does not appear again, but the reminder was enough. His studies in stagnation are done; they do not achieve what he actually wants to achieve.

Logically, he knows, but pulling himself back together is still slow going. He takes one step at a time, and begins going through the motions of the everyday life he had shared with his Master. It becomes familiar again in due time, and he realizes, perhaps, that Rhinedottir had prepared him for this for quite a long time. He has everything he needs, including the routines, even if he is alone.

The rest depends on him.

For the first time, he cries. He does not realize he is doing so until the tears drip off his chin and onto the back of his hand. It is a curious feeling; a part of him marvels at this new, uncontrolled response, the force of his feelings so overwhelming that he cannot contain them.

“I am still learning, Master,” he whispers, and wipes the tears away.

When you have put your own affairs in order, Rhinedottir’s letter had begun, and so he shall begin to do so.

The first order of business: to once more find the shooting star that had fallen to the earth.

It takes a few months, though even that is sooner than he expected. He spends that time simply roaming…and attempting to communicate with hilichurls. Not all the encounters go well—he cannot always get close, and sometimes even if he can, it results in battle. He does not know how to begin learning their language, but he can observe their culture. He seeks out the shamans and brings food to showcase goodwill, shows Lumine’s necklace to them if he is able to establish communication. Albedo cannot tell if they understand, but he tries anyway, and continues to try.

It pays off.

After many other failed attempts, this group of hilichurls exclaims after looking at the necklace a bit, and gestures wildly for him to follow. They lead him to a field of sweet flowers, and at first, Albedo takes this to be another misunderstanding, sighing.

But then he sees the Ruin Guard ambling towards it, and the figure perched in its hand.

The Guard stops in front of him, and Lumine’s face is expressionless as her eyes meet his. The Guard lowers its hand for her to step down, and he sees that there are also apples and sunsettias in its palm.

These she gives to the hilichurls, who exclaim in delight, carrying off the fruits immediately. The Guard itself ambles away slowly once its hand is empty.

“You’ve been kind to them,” she murmurs, watching the hilichurls go. “Thank you.”

“Lumine,” he breathes, his voice hushed.

“Albedo,” she says back, turning to face him.

For a moment, it feels like they are meeting for the first time again, though now they already know each other’s names. Like him, she looks the same as she did all those years ago, and yet much has changed since then.

“You’ve been looking for me,” she says, her voice flat, “Why?”

“I felt I was in danger of losing you,” he replies, not at all offput by the coldness of her attitude, “So I came to keep my promise.”

Her expression changes at that, a flicker of pain flashing across her eyes.

“I am not the girl you once knew,” she tells him.

“And yet, my life’s purpose is to turn the unknown into the known.”

Her brows furrow at his response, the corners of her mouth tugging downwards.

“This is not for you to know.”

“All knowledge is worth having. If you will not share it, I will attempt to discover it myself, in due time.”

Her lips thin with displeasure, her eyes bright with anger. He tilts his head a little as he scrutinizes her.

“You let me find you,” he says gently, “Why?”

Lumine tenses and does not answer him.

“You are afraid,” he continues, and she begins stepping back, her eyes wary, “…And you are lonely.”

At that, she hisses and turns away as if she will leave him entirely, but he reaches out to grab her wrist.

She stills at his touch, and does not pull away.

“How funny that I should feel the same,” Albedo says, with something of a self-depreciating laugh.

Her head whips back to look at him, and the two stare at each other before she finally sighs, the tension draining out of her body. She looks…small, like this. Terribly so.

“Madam Rhinedottir left you,” she says, her voice defeated.

“Yes.”

“You almost died.”

“That is not true, though I was indeed indisposed for some time.”

She raises her eyebrow at that, and he gives her a sheepish look. There is not much more explanation he can give about that, and Lumine shakes her head.

“I did not send that letter so that you would come find me.” she says, her voice distant.

“I know. But why did you send the letter?”

She hesitates before responding.

“…I…thought you would rather know, than not.”

“Ah—a kindness then.”

He smiles a little here, tilting his head just a little teasingly, and her face softens against her will before she turns her face away.

“If…you wish to view it as such.”

A few heartbeats pass before they speak again.

“Are you still searching for your brother?”

“…Yes. But so far, it has been fruitless. I suspect I will only see him when the dust settles. In the meantime…I’ve discovered something else I cannot walk away from.”

“And will you tell me what it is?” he coaxes warmly, but her response is icy.

“Do not ask of me such a thing Albedo, when you are not here to stay.”

He pauses, deliberating whether or not he can answer otherwise to hear her answer, but he will not lie to her. Her lips quirk up at his quietude, but her expression grows melancholy after a moment.

“There is something you cannot walk away from as well,” she says, and he nods.

“My Master’s final assignment is to find the truth of this world,” he says quietly, “I…wonder if I will be able to see her again, when I do.”

Lumine blinks, faintly surprised, though she says nothing on the subject.

The two fall silent then, looking at each other. Albedo is still holding onto Lumine’s wrist, though neither of them comment on the matter.

After a while, Lumine sighs, and reaches out a hand to touch his cheek.

“Albedo,” she says, switching to the language of her homeland, “I confess it is good to see you. But it was not…a good choice.”

He blinks at her and leans into her touch, holding her gaze.

“I wanted to see you,” he says simply, and she shivers to hear the language from him in return.

“Do not do this again. The next time you find me, I will kill you.”

He smiles a little at that.

“Then when it is time for me to die, I will come to you.”

She frowns, and drops her hand as if burned.

“Ah, so you intend to make me do it,” she says, shaking her head. “You are cruel, Prince of Chalk.”

“It is not about making you do it. It is about having a reason to do so.”

She looks at him sharply, her eyes and posture demanding. But he smiles, and says nothing more. The bargain for this information is not something she is willing to make at present.

“Don’t come,” she hisses.

“I will, if I must. You have already made the declaration.”

Her jaw is clenched at his refusal, her body trembling slightly, and it is another moment before she speaks again.

“…Then if you must come, at the time, if I am nothing like you remember, if I am no longer who I say…you must be prepared to do the same. You made me a promise. Do not forget me. Me. As Lumine. Do not let a stranger kill you.”

He tugs off one glove, and holds out his hand.

Slowly, she takes it, intertwining their fingers. Hers are warm as his are cool.

“So once more, we make an exchange,” he says lightly.

She blinks at him, then peers at his neck. She reaches under his collar and tugs out the pendant she had gifted him so long ago by the chain, the yellow diamond still glittering as brilliantly as ever. He reaches under her scarf to tug out hers, the blue crystal still beautifully clear and luminous.

Lumine sighs, and leans her forehead against his.

“You make this difficult,” she mutters.

He chuckles.

“Master used to say that if it was easy, you were not learning.”

Her lips quirk up into a wry smile. After a while, she squeezes his hand, and does not let it go when she steps back.

“Go,” she sighs, “This is hard enough already. Do not make it harder.”

He looks at her, then lifts her hand to press her knuckles to his lips.

“Until death unites us, then,” he says, and lets her go.

She does not say goodbye this time, and he does not turn back. She watches him, until he is out of sight, gripping the pendant hanging in the center of her chest so hard it hurts.

Mondstadt welcomes him with open arms, and his skill is so far beyond what everyone else is used to that even without the recommendation letter, he could have easily made a place for himself. Even so, he is new to the city, so to make him Chief Alchemist is too hasty still.

He does not mind; he does not need a position at all, so long as he is still allowed use the resources that they have.

Instead, he accompanies his Master’s friend, Alice, and her little daughter Klee, on various adventures to better acclimate himself to the country. It is very different than traveling with his Master; Alice is rambunctious and destructive, attentions everywhere all at once with whatever new thing catches her interest. Klee watches her mother with big eyes and a wide smile, and listens with rapt focus whenever Alice sits her down to teach her how to make bombs. (Surely that is not conventional, but…Albedo has not exactly lived a conventional life, and does not have “normal” parenting to compare Alice’s to.)

It is chaotic, and yet he does not wholly mind. It is a new experience to consider.

And yet…in three years, Alice too is gone. She leaves Klee with Albedo and the Knights of Favonius, and then she and her partner are gone in a flash, into the depths of the world.

Klee holds Albedo’s hand tightly when her parents leave with nary a backwards glance, and he squeezes it gently back, understanding her feelings. They are similar—an absent mother and an absent Master, the ones left behind and lonely, their abilities just a little too much for Mondstadt’s walls.

He and Klee sleep side-by-side that night, and for a little while to come. But the little girl handles it better than he, ultimately; she is perky and bright within a few days, pouring her attentions into crafting new bombs and terrorizing the fish in Starfell Lake. (He mitigates this where he can, but…Klee’s shenanigans become commonplace and well known amongst the Knights as they all pitch in to watch her.)

During their travels, Alice had said they were now a family, and that Albedo could call her Mother, if he so wished. But he did not, and the word stuck oddly when he tested it.

But as for Klee…it is not so strange to call her little sister. She had already endeared herself to him early on, with an unprecedented affection so whole and pure and innocent. Despite his lack of previous interaction with children, he does well in caring for her, and he cannot help but marvel a little at the responsibility of watching over another life like so, perhaps a little like the way his Master had when he was brought out of his flask.

They are, perhaps unexpectedly, a good pair. With Klee, Albedo learns about a different kind of contentment, and comfort. There are nights, after Klee has had a nightmare and Albedo simply cannot sleep, that they sit together and watch the stars with a hot drink, or go out to catch fireflies. Together, they forget to be lonely.

“Albedo,” Klee says sleepily on one such stargazing and hot-drink night, nestled up beside him, “I’m really glad that you came to Mondstadt.”

Albedo strokes his sister’s hair, and smiles tenderly.

“Thank you, Klee,” he murmurs, picking her up with great care to put her to bed, “I’m very glad I did too.”

Regardless of previous misgivings, Albedo gains two titles, aside from the one his Master left him, very quickly: Chief Alchemist, and Captain of the Investigation Team. He is truly a Knight of Favonius by the time this happens, with even his bladework adjusted to better suit their style.

Besides Klee—and Sucrose and Timaeus, whom he has taken under his tutelage in the past months—he still primarily keeps to himself. He is satisfied with the relationships he has, and is not interested in cultivating too many new or deeper ones. The work that is required for such things…it is troublesome.

The official assignments required from him by the Knights are, quite frankly, easy, just barely requiring five percent of his energy. But this suits him just fine, as it allows him ample time for his own pursuits.

His life in Mondstadt is colorful, and though here too he forms his routines, there is never a dull moment—especially with Klee, and two students to teach.

Albedo wonders if something like this was the reason his Master sent him to Mondstadt. He is…happy here, in this gentle and free city.

He wonders if, as they had traveled the world just the two of them for so long, his Master had been, too.

He is not in the city proper when Stormterror attacks, but he hears about the Traveler the moment he returns. The knights on duty inform him that the young man and his floating companion had been taken to see Jean in her office, and then the group of them had headed out again afterwards posthaste. Albedo walks towards Headquarters with renewed curiosity, but expects he’ll hear more about everything in due time, and simply goes to his workshop as usual.

There is a knock on his door a little while later, and he calls for whoever is on the other side of the door to come in. He is observing the color change of a potion in his hands, and turns only when it has settled into the proper pale shade.

When he finally looks up from the bottle, he nearly drops it in surprise.

A young man in foreign clothes stands next to Jean, about the same height as Albedo, if perhaps a touch taller. He is slim, his long blond hair tied in a braid, his golden eyes open and curious. A small fairy-like child floats next to him, but Albedo’s focus is on the Traveler, and blinks as he takes in his visage.

They are not identical, but nevertheless, Albedo knows him for who he is.

“Good afternoon, Albedo,” Jean greets, “You must have already heard the stories, but this is the Traveler, Aether, who I’ve deemed an Honorary Knight of Favonius for his assistance. His companion is Paimon.” She gestures back and forth as she introduces everyone. “This is Albedo, Chief Alchemist and Captain of our Investigation Team.”

“Hiya!” Paimon says, waving cheerfuly while Aether dips his head politely in greeting.

“Hello,” Albedo returns, finally settling down the bottle into a rack. “Thank you, for your service to Mondstadt. What brings you here to see me?”

“He is looking for his sister,” Jean explains, and Albedo keeps his face impassive. “I was hoping that he might sit with you awhile to tell you about her, and you could sketch her likeness for some missing person posters?”

“Ah,” Albedo says. “Yes, of course. I will clear some space.”

“Excellent,” Jean smiles, making to leave. “My thanks, Albedo. And—Aether, Paimon, please get some rest afterwards. Arrangements with the inn have been made, and they are ready to accommodate your stay for as long as you need.”

Aether bobs his head again, murmuring a thank you, and in the next moment it is just the three of them.

Albedo is curious about the floating child, but…he puts this aside for now, clearing some notes off a stool for the Traveler to sit. He does so gingerly, looking around the workshop with fascination. Paimon floats, of course, but she moves this way and that in excitement.

“We heard that you’re really great at drawing—Paimon can’t wait to see a master at work!” she exclaims, and Albedo smiles wryly.

“I hope I will not disappoint,” he demurs, as he moves around to locate his materials.

“Thank you, for agreeing to do this,” Aether adds, hesitating a little on the words. “I’m sorry—my mastery of the language is…not so good, yet.”

Albedo prepares the proper paper and pencils, then glances at him sidelong.

“You speak it well, but would you prefer to use a language more comfortable to you?” he asks, and watches Aether’s eyes go wide with shock.

A heartbeat passes, and Aether rises from his seat—

And slams Albedo into the wall by the collar, his hands fisted into his shirt.

It is an aggressive action, yet not one fueled by violence, but desperation. Aether’s eyes are begging as they well up with tears, and his entire body trembles. Paimon watches with her hands over her mouth, completely taken aback by this turn of events and unsure of what to do.

“Where? How?” Aether chokes out, his voice raw, “Tell me—you’ve met her, haven’t you? She taught you. There is no one else left besides she and I who know this tongue.”

“It was many years ago,” Albedo says, putting his own hands gently over Aether’s. There is already a lot understood in that statement; neither Albedo nor Aether are quite human, and neither are quite willing to reveal such personal secrets so openly just yet. “The last I saw her was in a nameless flower field, when I was on my way to this city. I know not what she is doing, nor where she is now. I am sorry.”

Aether loosens his hold, breathing ragged, and steps back.

“I am sorry too, for my reaction,” he says, running a hand through his hair, still distressed. He paces a little, unsure of what to do with all the adrenaline thrumming in his veins. “It has been…quite some time, that I’ve heard our language, and from someone other than Lumine.”

“No harm done,” Albedo assures him, though he suspects his back will be a little sore.

The two regard each other for a moment, and Paimon looks between them.

“Will someone please explain what is going on?!” she demands, and Aether rubs the back of his head sheepishly.

“He…knows a language I thought was lost,” Aether says, then pins her with his gaze. “Paimon…you can’t mention what happened here to anyone else, I mean it. Please.

“Wha? Paimon doesn’t get it, but…if you say so. It’s unfair to leave Paimon out, though!”

“I’m sorry,” Aether says, ruffling her hair. “I’ll…explain to you later. And I’ll buy you more Sticky Honey Roast.”

“Yes! Alright, Paimon will do whatever you say!”

Albedo smiles a little, and motions for Aether to sit.

Neither are sure how much to reveal, and also in front of Paimon, so they go through the motions of the situation. Aether describes Lumine in vast detail, and though Albedo does not need it, it is fascinating to hear of her through the eyes of her brother, and match his words to what he knows.

By the end, Paimon marvels over the final drawing, and Aether goes quiet over the portrait. It is a remarkable likeness, down to the way she holds herself and the gleam in her eye.

“Thank you,” Aether murmurs, and Albedo knows he means more than just for the drawing.

“Alright then! Let’s go to Good Hunter now!” Paimon cheers, and flies off first without waiting for an answer.

Aether lingers, as expected, handing back the sketch with reluctance so that it can be copied.

“You may have the original, once the posters are produced,” Albedo tells him, and Aether smiles.

“My thanks,” he says, then hesitates before continuing. “Please…could we meet up again? I’d…like to speak more to you, about…a few things, really, but about Lumine especially. And...I cannot express how much it means, to be speaking this again.”

“I may be difficult to find,” Albedo admits, “But if you can get word to me, I will make time. I would like to speak to you, as well.”

Aether’s smile is brilliant, and he leaves the workshop in a mood just as bright.

Albedo watches him go, and wonders what to tell him, and how much. He looks at the sketch in his hand, unsure of the result of putting up these posters will be. There may be a danger in that it is too good a likeness.

She had said…not to look for her. The next time you find me, I will kill you. But surely that did not apply to Aether, whom she was looking for to begin with all the years.

He sighs deeply and wonders—

Lumine’s goals, and the truths she has found…what are they?

A thousand miles away, underground, Lumine stares down into a pit she cannot see the bottom of, gripping her blue pendant tightly. She holds it over the edge of the abyss, then loosens her fingers, the stone swinging freely.

After a moment, she sighs.

She retracts her hand, holds her fist to her chest.

She slips the chain back over her head.

#genshin impact #genshin lumine #genshin albedo #albelumi #rhinedottir #homunculus albedo #abyss princess lumine #kreideprinz #fanfiction #genshin impact fic #good luck to everyone rolling!!#i pray xiao comes home

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kapitaali · 4 years

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The New Hippies

THE NEW HIPPIES: The work abolition movement, anarcho-primitivism and biodynamism as ways to combat climate change

Essay for the course LOGS13b The Strategic Role of Responsibility in Business by Teppo Saari

Introduction

The course LOGS13b The Strategic Role of Responsibility in Business had the students think about and discuss the various ethical dimensions in business, moral dilemmas and choices to be made that a decision maker in business world come across every day.

This essay is motivated by our case study with a headline ’Investors urge European companies to include climate risks in accounts’ (Financial Times 2020). In this essay I will explore values and ethical principles that I see as the solutions to our case study and climate change in general. This is not to say that I could stand up for them in business world. Ironically, my main thread and leitmotif here is the untransformational nature of capitalism and business world. Thus, standing up to the values I will discuss here means doing less business, not more.

This essay is divided in three parts: problem – reaction – solution. These three parts will talk about the chosen values and ethical principles. They are by no means new: pragmatism – The Golden Rule – parsimony & naturality. They just seem to be in conflict with our modern way of living.

Thinking pragmatically about the problem

As part of our course assignment, we got to read about a group of investors managing trillions of dollars worth of assets who urged European companies to include climate risks in their accounts (Financial Times 2020). Scientists have warned us for decades, that pumping extreme amounts of CO2 into our atmosphere will result in melting of the polar ice caps (Mitchell 1989; Jones & Henderson-Sellers 1990), which will raise the sea level and drown some of the coastal cities (Peters & Darling 1985). Finally, capitalists are acting responsibly!

It would seem that capitalists actually cared for the planet and not just their profits. Or would it? Maybe they are scared of losing their future profits, and this kind of media escapade would bring back public trust and confidence in the system. It would be a sign that capitalists can act transparently, openly, accountably, respecting others (O’Leary 1993). But is changing the allocation in your investment portfolio really a sign of empathy? Would there be other ways to better express empathy in business?

Shareholders are interested in the risk their assets are facing, not necessarily in the welfare of the people. Investors acting virtuously can be just virtue-signaling or pleasing other elements in the society to take off media pressure and negative PR from them in a conformist way (Collinson 2003). Maybe they are just greenwashing their own conscience. Why is George Soros’ climate buzz astroturfing industrial complex (Morningstar 2019a) financing Greta Thunberg to do public PR campaigns targeting the youth? Maybe there is money in it. It is unlikely that it would have been dubbed ”A 100 trillion dollar storytelling campaign” without some particularly good reasons (Morningstar 2019b).

But there is something else in it too than just money: power and control. The person who gets to limit choices gets to dictate what kind of choices remain. And if a person has that kind of foreknowledge, then that person can be two steps ahead of us. And being two steps ahead of us means securing future profits. Including climate risks in accounts will imply controls. Controls are imposed on accounts, but ultimately it will mean controls imposed on people and their daily activities. Workers are the ones who will naturally suffer the consequences of management decisions. In this case management decisions are ’urged’ externally, from the owners’ part. After all, it is the corporations that are producing most of the climate change effects, in terms of pollution and greenhouse gases (Griffin 2017). People doing their jobs, working everyday, producing things but also at the same time producing climate effects. I would still love to hear politicians use more terms such as ”pollution” when talking about these issues. For it is unclear how reducing carbon emissions will reduce overall pollution that is also a contributor in the destruction of our environment (see eg. Bodo & Gimah 2020; Oelofse et al. 2007). Issues like microplastics, holes in the ozone layer, biodiversity loss, acid rains and soil degradation need to be talked about just as much, if not more so.

The problem is simple: too much economic activity producing too much climate impact, mostly pollution and greenhouse gases. Solving the Grand Challenge (Konstantinou & Muller 2020) of our time is harder if we wish to keep the fabric of our society intact. There’s a clear need for dialogue among stakeholders (Gardiner 1996), but how is it a dialogue if people are not actually listened to and don’t get to say how things will progress in society? What I am proposing is a meme-like solution that has the greater impact the more people adopt it. My solution is: stop working. Produce less. Stop supporting systems and mechanisms that produce climate effects. Stop supporting the mechanisms that don’t listen to your voice. Disconnect from the Matrix. Working a dayjob is one of these mechanisms. Although many people have realized the benefits of working from home (Kost 2020), a lot more needs to be done. Remote work is not available to everyone. Not all jobs are remote work.

Bob Black (2021) in his texts has advocated for the total and complete abolition of work. Stopping working naturally does not mean stopping doing things, it will merely mean stopping working a job, a concept which itself is a social construct. Black’s theses are simple but powerful. Working is the source of all ills, it is not compatible with ludic life (allthemore so in 2021), it is forced labour and compulsory production, it is replete with indignities called ”discipline”: ”surveillance, rotework, imposed work tempos, production quotas, punching -in and -out, etc”. Black does not only describe the negative ontological aspects of working, he goes deeper and invokes many familiar names of Greek philosophers:

Both Plato and Xenophon attribute to Socrates and obviously share with him an awareness of the destructive effects of work on the worker as a citizen and a human being. Herodotus identified contempt for work as an attribute of the classical Greeks at the zenith of their culture. To take only one Roman example, Cicero said that “whoever gives his labor for money sells himself and puts himself in the rank of slaves.” His candor is now rare, but contemporary primitive societies which we are wont to look down upon have provided spokesmen who have enlightened Western anthropologists. The Kapauku of West Irian, according to Posposil, have a conception of balance in life and accordingly work only every other day, the day of rest designed “to regain the lost power and health.” Our ancestors, even as late as the eighteenth century when they were far along the path to our present predicament, at least were aware of what we have forgotten, the underside of industrialization. Their religious devotion to “St. Monday” — thus establishing a de facto five-day week 150–200 years before its legal consecration — was the despair of the earliest factory owners. They took a long time in submitting to the tyranny of the bell, predecessor of the time clock. In fact it was necessary for a generation or two to replace adult males with women accustomed to obedience and children who could be molded to fit industrial needs. Even the exploited peasants of the ancient regime wrested substantial time back from their landlord’s work. According to Lafargue, a fourth of the French peasants’ calendar was devoted to Sundays and holidays, and Chayanov’s figures from villages in Czarist Russia — hardly a progressive society — likewise show a fourth or fifth of peasants’ days devoted to repose. Controlling for productivity, we are obviously far behind these backward societies. The exploited muzhiks would wonder why any of us are working at all. So should we.

Black notes that only ”a small and diminishing fraction of work serves any useful purpose independent of the defense and reproduction of the work-system and its political and legal appendages”. In similar vein, the late but great David Graeber saw the futility of most work. Calling this phenomenon ’bullshit jobs’ (Graeber 2018), Graeber sets out to describe what many of us are familiar with: we do useless things to make ourselves feel useful. Because modern society legitimizes itself with having people ’do’ stuff and not ’be’ a certain person. How can you (objectively) measure being? You can’t. But doing, that you can measure. This measurement then qualifies you as a member of society: productive, doing your part (an idiom that is a perfect example how you can’t escape the doing paradigm on a societal level). Graeber’s definition of a bullshit job is: if the position were eliminated, it would make no discernible difference in the world. In many cases these types of jobs are found to be supporting some kind of buraucracy, reporting, assisting decision makers, etc. Our current Matrix has its ways of creating more of these with the clever marketing concept called ’value’ (Petrescu 2019). They don’t make a difference, they create value.

Why would you want to overload the world by doing things that you nor most everyone else see no point in? Why would you waste your time doing pointless things? The easy answer to these questions is ’subsistence’. But there are many other ways to live on this planet. If you keep doing what the society tells you is acceptable or convenient, you will shut your eyes from the problem at hand: climate change.

Legitimizing anarcho-naturism as a solution with The Golden Rule

Our responsibility is to ourselves. We can not properly be held responsible for anything else. Yet the system of representational democracy does just this, holds us collectively responsible for many things, borrows money from creditors with our names on the loan collectively and then makes us pay for the loans. The way this Matrix works is yet another reason to disconnect from it. Or at least stop supporting it as much as possible.

The Golden Rule states: ”Treat others as you want to be treated” (Gensler 2013). From the perspective of climate change, it can first seem curious why you would quit your job and head for the hills. After all, we are facing a global issue here. There are people in need for help and I am running away? But I would see it as a way to get around our predicament. The Golden Rule can be also interpreted in Kantian way as the categorical imperative, particularly its first formulation: ”Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law”. This formulation is somewhat more proactive in nature. It talks about acting, doing things, and doing things is what is appreciated in our society, even when your goal is to exit the society.

Why exit the society? Is it enough to just quit your job and find something else to do, something that is more fulfilling and not bullshit? What an excellent question. Long before the advent of smart phones and 5G and DNA-vaccines, this question had been brought up to the table. In the 1800s, people were realizing the negative impact industrialization was having on society at large. People were rooted out from their family homes in the countryside, forced to move to a large city to look for a job, crammed into small apartments with dozens of other workers, coerced into working long and hard days at factories to make a living. The lowly misery of these people attracted the attention of a certain Friedrich Engels, who felt their situation was not adequate to make up for the suffering they had gone through. He meticulously described the working conditions of the English working class in his ”The Condition of the Working Class in England” (2003 [1845]), originally published in German. Sociology as a science was established by Karl Marx, Max Weber and Emile Durkheim to study these changes. Slowly but surely, the influx of people into cities started to cause issues, something that mayors and other municipal representatives had to start taking care of. Planning and zoning were given a lot more attention, since the earlier modus operandi of old European cities had been rather laissez faire (Sutcliffe 1980).

Against this backdrop of massive societal change, people started to question the changes and their direction. Are we really nothing more than slaves, just working in a different environment? Slavery might not be the right word or context here. Many people believe to be free, govern themselves and their property, and yet their daily actions and options to choose from seem to be eerily limited. They have only so many choices, most of which seem somehow related to running their errands. A more appropriate term, with all its connotations, here would be the Greek word ananke, ”force, constraint, necessity”. Like a force of nature, progress towards modernity necessitates that people leave their family homes and go work in large factories, compulsively manufacturing endless amounts of products, some of which are necessary, others merely decorations, and some just pointless.

Many names in 19th century New England worked upon a vision for the future society at a time when unprecedented changes were taking place and the standard of living was rising faster than ever before. The Transcendental Club was a group of New England authors, philosophers, socialists, politicians and intellectuals of the early-to-mid-19th century which gave rise to Transcendentalism, the first notable American intellectual movement. Transcendentalist believe in the inherent goodness of people and nature, but that society and its institutions — particularly organized religion and political parties — corrupt the purity of the individual. (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy 2003; Sacks 2003.) Transcendentalism is a unique mix of European Romanticism, German (particularly Kantian) philosophy, and American Christianity. The impact of this movement can still be seen in the many flavours of American anarchist and radical Christian movements.

Out of the ranks of Transcendentalists rose a couple of names that can be viewed as the progenitors of modern anarcho-primitivism and natur(al)ist anarchy. Ralph Waldo Emerson was the central figure of the Transcendental Club, who together with Henry David Thoreau critiqued the contemporary society for its ”unthinking conformity” and advocated for “an original relation to the universe” (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy 2003). Emerson’s Nature (2009 [1836]) poetically embellishes our view of the natural world, while Thoreau’s Walden; or, Life in the Woods (1995 [1854]) is a call for civil disobedience and revolt against the modern world. Another influential natur(al)ist writer has been Leo Tolstoi whose name is frequently mentioned by anarchists. Tolstoi himself was a Christian and pacifist, and his writings have inspired Christian anarcho-pacifism that views the state as ”immoral and unsupportable because of its connection with military power” (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy 2017).

Before the Transcendentalist movement, Europe experienced similar trend in philosophy with Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s natural philosophy. Rousseau touched upon many subjects: freedom, free will, authority, nature, morality, societal inequality, representation and government. Like Transcendentalists, Rousseau held a belief that human beings are good by nature but are rendered corrupt by society. ”Rousseau clearly states that morality is not a natural feature of human life, so in whatever sense it is that human beings are good by nature, it is not the moral sense that the casual reader would ordinarily assume” (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy 2010). Rousseau’s work is relevant to many of the social movements that currently fight against COVID restrictions, vaccination agenda, building of 5G antenna towers next to where people live, polluting the environment, systemic poverty and general disconnection from the natural world. Rousseau, although regarded as a philosopher, saw philosophy itself negatively, and to him philosophers were ”the post-hoc rationalizers of self-interest, as apologists for various forms of tyranny, and as playing a role in the alienation of the modern individual from humanity’s natural impulse to compassion” (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy 2010).

Rousseau’s days did not see capitalism as we see it now. It was later Marx (influenced by Hegel, who in turn was influenced by Rousseau) that put together a treatise that considers the societal change we have seen ever since from industrialism and circulation of capital. But Rousseau’s thoughts about the social contract (1968 [1762]), “child-centered” education (Rousseau 2010), and inequality (Graeber & Wengrow 2018; Rousseau 2008) are still relevant today. Especially when we are faced with many societal forces that are contradictory in nature, each of them pushing us into certain direction, demanding our attention, wanting us to change our beliefs about that one particular aspect that connects with other aspects and forms the Matrix of our reality.

We are once again facing a similar situation as the people did back in the days of the first industrial revolution. Now the industrial revolution has reached its fourth cycle, unimaginatively called ”Industry 4.0” (Marr 2018; WEF 2021), where machines are starting to become autonomous and talk to each other. I used to think technology was cool, and went to work for Google. But at Google I learned that technology is not cool, after all. Not until technology becomes completely open source, it will be used by massive conglomerates to build autonomous weapons systems (Cassella 2018; Johnson 2018) and the industry will keep paying ethics researchers to keep writing arguments for them (Charters 2020). Even though I could work for an industry that, given the current trajectory, will be among the biggest producers of CO 2 in the future Vidal 2017), the idea that I would work for an industry that sees weaponizing their products as the grandest idea of mankind’s future is still gnawing.

Because, it is all just business (Huesemann & Huesemann 2011):

One of the functions of critical science is to create awareness of the underlying values, and the political and financial interests which are currently determining the course of science and technology in industrialized society. This exposure of the value-laden character of science and technology is done with the goal of emancipating both people and the environment from domination and exploitation by powerful interests. The ultimate objective is to redirect science and technology to support both ordinary people and the environment, instead of causing suffering through oppression and exploitation by dominant elites. Furthermore, by exposing the myth of the value-neutrality of science and technology, critical science attempts to awaken working scientists and engineers to the social, political, and ethical implications of their work, making it impossible or, at the very least, uncomfortable for them to ignore the wider context and corresponding responsibilities of their professional activities.

It all seems to be connected with state imperialism and the military-industrial(-intelligence) complex. Lenin’s statement (2008 [1916]) equating capitalism with imperialism still prevails this day: ”imperialist wars are absolutely inevitable under such an economic system, as long as private property in the means of production exists”. The conditions change, but the war machine keeps on churning (soon with autonomous weapons!), with wealthy but crooky investors financing projects that are even more dystopian (Byrne 2013). We may remember what president Dwight D. Eisenhower said about the military- industrial complex (NPR 2011):

”In the councils of government, we must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the military-industrial complex. The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists, and will persist.”

It is exactly these kinds of doomsday scenarios that inspire people like Theodore John ”The Unabomber” Kaczynski. Kaczynski, famous for sending mail bombs to various university professors around the US, holds a doctoral degree in mathematics. (Wikipedia 2021.) Kaczynski was bullied as a child, and it has been suggested that he was part of an MKULTRA experiment in college (The Week 2017). Kaczynski did not send his bombs haphazardly. He wrote long theoretical pieces to justify his actions, most of them being thematically anarcho-primitivist. In 1995, after sending several bombs to university personnel and business executives in 1978-1995, he said to ”desist from terrorism” if he got his text published in media outlets.

In his Industrial Society and Its Future (Kaczynski 1995), a 35 thousand word essay published in The Washington Post, which the FBI gave the name ”Unabomber manifesto”, Kaczynski attributes many our societal ills to ”leftism”. In the manifesto Kaczynski details how two psychological tendencies, “feelings of inferiority” and “oversocialization”, form the basis of ”the psychology of modern leftism”. Feelings of inferiority are taken to mean the whole spectrum of negative feelings about self: low self-esteem, feelings of powerlessness, guilt, self-hatred etc. Oversocialization is the process of socialization taken to extreme levels:

24. Psychologists use the term “socialization” to designate the process by which children are trained to think and act as society demands. A person is said to be well socialized if he believes in and obeys the moral code of his society and fits in well as a functioning part of that society. It may seem senseless to say that many leftists are over-socialized, since the leftist is perceived as a rebel. Nevertheless, the position can be defended. Many leftists are not such rebels as they seem.

25. The moral code of our society is so demanding that no one can think, feel and act in a completely moral way. For example, we are not supposed to hate anyone, yet almost everyone hates somebody at some time or other, whether he admits it to himself or not. Some people are so highly socialized that the attempt to think, feel and act morally imposes a severe burden on them. In order to avoid feelings of guilt, they continually have to deceive themselves about their own motives and find moral explanations for feelings and actions that in reality have a nonmoral origin. We use the term “oversocialized” to describe such people.

Kaczynski goes on to describe how this oversocialization causes a person to feel guilt and shame for their actions, especially in the context of performing as society expects them to perform. He writes how this concept of oversocialization is used to determine ”the direction of modern leftism”. Further on, Kaczynski describes how modern man needs goals to strive for, to not run the risk of developing serious psychological problems. This goalsetting activity he denotes ”power process”. But these goals can be real or artificial. Setting a goal is “surrogate activity” if the person devotes much time and energy to attaining it, does not attain it, and still feels seriously deprived. It is just a goal for goalsetting’s sake, the unfulfilled other side of the coin of power process. Kaczynski then connects these concepts to the many societal ills (excessive density of population, isolation of man from nature, excessive rapidity of social change and the breakdown of natural small-scale communities such as the extended family, the village or the tribe) by describing how modern society, with all its marketing and advertising creating artificial needs, disrupts the power process, mankind’s search for itself and meaning-making in life. He sees social hierarchies and the need to climb up them, the ”keeping up with the Joneses”, as surrogate activity.

”Because of the constant pressure that the system exerts to modify human behavior, there is a gradual increase in the number of people who cannot or will not adjust to society’s requirements: welfare leeches, youth gang members, cultists, anti-government rebels, radical environmentalist saboteurs, dropouts and resisters of various kinds”. This gradual increase, then, the system tries to ’solve’ by using propaganda, ”to make people WANT the decisions that have been made for them”. In regards to technology, the ”bad” parts cannot be separated from the ”good”, and thus we are constantly facing the dilemma between technology and freedom, new technology being introduced all the time, and new regulations being introduced to curb the negative effects of the technology and at the same time stripping us of our freedoms. Kaczynski concludes, that revolution is easier than reforming the system.

Later, Kaczynski released another of his anti-technological theses. In Anti-Tech Revolution: Why and How (2015) Kaczynski presents a ”comprehensive historical analysis explaining the futility of social control and the catastrophic influence of technological growth on human social and planetary ecological systems.” This time Kaczynski talks more about how to start an anti-tech movement and how to keep it going. The text reads like a mathemathical proof of sorts, it presents ”rules”, ”propositions” and ”postulates” why the technological system will destroy itself (eg. Russell’s Paradox resulting in chaos in a highly complex, tightly coupled system) and why a successful anti-tech movement needs clear goals to avoid some of the errors revolutionary movements have made, which are elaborated in the book. Violence is not offered as a solution in the book, it is seen more like a mishap of sorts, a suboptimal outcome of a revolutionary movement. But it talks about power. Kaczynski got to learn the hard way how the feeling of powerlessness breeds desperate actions that would have been otherwise unnecessary. The book also talks about climate change and related issues, from a mathematic systems theoretical point of view.

Institutions that are in the business of social engineering and behavioral modification, such as the Tavistock Institute in the UK or the CIA in the US, would have us believe that Kaczynski’s actions were ”defences against anxiety” that can be seen as ”withdrawal, informal organization, reactive individualism and scapegoating” (Hills et al. 2020), and to some extent this is true. But Kaczynski interprets the actions of these institutions stemming from technological progress in our society Kaczynski 1995):

117. In any technologically advanced society the individual’s fate MUST depend on decisions that he personally cannot influence to any great extent. A technological society cannot be broken down into small, autonomous communities, because production depends on the cooperation of very large numbers of people and machines. Such a society MUST be highly organized and decisions HAVE TO be made that affect very large numbers of people.

This uniformity of a large hierarchical modern society then forces its will on people (Kaczynski 1995):

119. The system does not and cannot exist to satisfy human needs. Instead, it is human behavior that has to be modified to fit the needs of the system. This has nothing to do with the political or social ideology that may pretend to guide the technological system. It is not the fault of capitalism and it is not the fault of socialism. It is the fault of technology, because the system is guided not by ideology but by technical necessity.

We have once again encountered ananke, necessity. Now, if we consider ourselves as the lonely decision makers in this society, what could we do? We can try and fight fire with fire, but such fights end up producing only pain and casualties (Taylor 2013). Anarcho-naturists and anarcho-pacifists understand that (unnecessary) fighting in most cases does not work. Sometimes fighting is warranted, but it is beyond the scope of this essay to examine those cases. Sending bombs to people’s offices may get you some attention and even make somebody quote your manifesto in an essay, but it is not solving the issue, something which the Unabomber addressed in his later texts. If working a job indirectly supports the military-industrial complex NewScientist 2011), what good does it do? The military-industrial complex is the biggest source of pollution in the world (The Conversation 2019; Acedo 2015), detaching yourself from this complex is imperative. Even if they would manage to convince us with their psyops that they are willing to change and that climate change is an important issue (Ahmed 2014), it would still be the biggest polluter that is controlling the conversation. It has even been suggested that they are behind this climate buzz (Light 2014). Is your job doing that much good in society that it outweighs the cons? If I need to act responsibly, but cannot fight the system nor conform, while at the same time keeping in mind our looming climate disaster, the only reasonable and peaceful response is to exit the system altogether.

Biodynamism’s naturality and parsimony

Owning responsibility and transforming the world implies taking some kind of action. We have already seen how feelings of powerlessness and lack of self-worth can lead to destructive actions. But there are an unlimited amount of actions that can be taken, that are not based in feelings of powerlessness but empowerment.

Exiting society might sound like a lonely project, and some people might rightfully feel lonely when all their peers still want to live in the illusion. But it does not have to be so. A lot of soul-searching needs to be done, and that is usually done in privacy, focusing upon oneself, but beyond that there are ways how to go off-grid and drastically reduce your carbon emissions.

One of the key concepts that will be our guiding principle here is degrowth (Paulson 2017), which ties into values such as organicity, naturality and parsimony. We will want to have less production of artificial things, and more organic and natural things. By artificial we mean long supply chains and many phases of production with modern high technology that produce a large amount of climate effects. By natural we mean using primitive technology, mostly all-natural or recycled materials and something that can be produced even alone, given enough time. Primitive technology does not exclude electricity, it just means producing it differently.

Rudolf Steiner, Austrian philosopher, social reformer, architect, and theosophist, the founder of Anthroposophy and a great reformer of science in matters of spirit, started the first intentional form of organic farming, known as biodynamic agriculture, after he had given a series of lectures on the topic in the last year of his life. (Paull 2011.) Steiner had many spiritual experiences during his life, which lead him to start the Anthroposophy movement. He wanted to apply the scientific process into spiritual realm, inquiring it as it would be as real as our material world. Inquiring this spiritual world helped him access knowledge he claims to not have been access otherwise (Steiner 2011 [1918]). Anthroposophist self-inquiry can be seen as Foucauldian ”technology of the self” that ”provide an intervention mechanism on the part of active subjects, injecting an element of contingency to everyday encounters and alleviating the determinist effect that technologies of power would have otherwise” (Skinner 2012).

Steiner’s thoughts about agriculture are still relevant (Paull 2011):

In 1924 Steiner commented that, “Nowadays people simply think that a certain amount of nitrogen is needed for plant growth, and they imagine it makes no difference how it’s prepared or where it comes from” Steiner, 1924b, pp.9-10). He made the point that, “In the course of this materialistic age of ours, we’ve lost the knowledge of what it takes to continue to care for the natural world” (Steiner, 1924b, p.10).

Our current system seems to think exactly in this way, that if we just compensate our wreaked havoc by investing in ’green’ technology (Elegant 2019), it will all be ok and rainbows in the sky. But it will not. No one is even double checking if the companies that say that they are now carbon neutral actually proactively try to make our world greener. They can just buy a renewable energy company and say now we are green and do nothing else. Some would argue that going ’carbon neutral’ like these massive corporations are doing it is not the way to do it: “’green’ infrastructures are creating conflict and ecological degradation and are the material expression of climate catastrophe” (Dunlap 2020).

Steinerian biodynamism ”encompasses practices of composting, mixed farming systems with use of animal manures, crop rotations, care for animal welfare, looking at the farm as an organism/entity and local distribution systems, all of which contribute toward the protection of the environment, safeguard biodiversity and improve livelihoods of farmers” (Turinek et al. 2009). While modern biodynamic studies focus on agroecological factors such as nutrient cycles, soil characteristics, and nutritional quality (Reganold 1995; Droogers & Bouma 1996), Steiner himself was quite metaphysical in his lectures and paid attention to details such as kingdoms of nature, planetary influences, biorhythms, incarnated and environmental ethers, and the Zodiac (Steiner 2004 [1958]; Nastati 2009).

By shifting to more natural ways of living, we may help Gaia (Lovelock 1991; Singh 2007) heal in many other ways than just reduce our climate emissions. By realizing that we are actually living on the skin of a fairly large and complex organism, we will stop treating it as a plain source of material resources, and start bonding with it, tune into its consciousness and establish two-way communication, just like the natives have done in America.

The way of the natives ought to be our current way, since there is no reason why the natives could not guard the lands they have before. One of the greatest fears of people speaking for private property rights is that managing resources collectively would mean exhausting them. There is no Tragedy of Commons. Just because you are materially poor does not mean that you are any less competent steward of land and wealth, as proposed by Elinor Oström (2009). Acting for climate is not an investment allocation problem. The natives need their land back so that they could do their best to fight the destruction of our ecosystem. The Outokumpu supply chain in Brazilian rainforests, Elon Musk and Bolivian lithium mines, Papua New Guinea indigenous conflict, mining in Lapland in traditional Sami herding areas, Australian uranium mining in indigenous lands… these are all pointless conflicts.

There are also many other ways of staying grounded and in touch with nature, while at the same time cultivating sovereignty. Many of these things revolve around feeding the most immediate community next to you. They reflect ideas such as mutuality, solidarity, organicity, and naturality. Permaculture is a term coined by David Holmgren to describe ”an approach to land management and philosophy that adopts arrangements observed in flourishing natural ecosystems. It includes a set of design principles derived using whole systems thinking. It uses these principles in fields such as regenerative agriculture, rewilding, and community resilience” (Wikipedia: Permaculture 2021). Permaculture has many branches including ecological design, ecological engineering, regenerative design, environmental design, and construction. It also includes integrated water resources management that develops sustainable architecture, and regenerative and self-maintained habitat and agricultural systems modeled from natural ecosystems (Holmgren Desing Services 2007).

Earthships are 100% sustainable homes that are both energy efficient and modern. Earthsips are built with natural and repurposed (recycled) materials, they heat and cool themselves without electric heat, they use solar energy to power electric appliances, they collect all of their water from rain and snowmelt, they re-use their sewage water to fertilize plants, and there’s an indoor garden that grows food in vertical growing spaces (Reynolds 2021). Ecovillages are a ”human-scale, full-featured settlement, in which human activities are harmlessly integrated into the natural world in a way that is supportive of healthy human development and can be successfully continued into the indefinite future” (Gilman & Gilman 1991).

Clifford Harper had a set of drawings imagining an alternative in his book Radical Technology (Harper & Boyle 1976). In them, he shows many of the ideas that were themes in the German garden city movement in the beginning of 20th century (Bollerey & Hartmann 1980), such as collectivised gardens, autonomous housing estates, and community workshops. The book introduces us ’radical technology’, which spans basically all of the concepts we have discussed up to this point: organic agriculture, biodynamic agriculture, vegetarianism, hydroponics, soft energy, insulation, low-cost housing, tree houses, shanty houses, ’folk-built’ houses using traditional methods, houses built from subsoil, self-built houses, housing associations, solar dwellings, domestic paper-making, carpentry, scrap reclamation, printing, community & pirate radio, collectivised gardens, collective workshops for clothesmaking, shoe repair, pottery, household decoration and repairs, autonomous housing estates, autonomous rural villages, etc.

These concepts, while they seem simple, are still empowering, they are meant to let people enjoy they fruits of their labour. Last but certainly not least is the concept that all of these things fall under, alternative (or, appropriate) technology. Alternative technologies are those ”which offer genuine alternatives to the large-scale, complex, centralized, high-energy life forms which dominate the modern age” (Winner 1979). Alternative technologies seek to solve the problems technocentric thinking has caused in society: technical scale and economic concentration, level of complexity or simplicity best suited to technical operations of various kinds, division of labor and its alleged necessity, social and technical hierarchy as it relates to the design of technological systems, and self-sufficiency and interdependence regarding the lives of individuals and communities. Many of these solutions have been developed in Africa, where problems have had to be solved, but resources have been scarce in actuality.

Appropriate technology holds great promise in ways that are currently underappreciated in our society (Huesemann & Huesemann 2011):

As has been mentioned repeatedly throughout this book, the primary goal of technology in our current economic system is to increase material affluence and to generate profits for the wealthy by controlling and exploiting both people and the environment. In view of the reality of interconnectedness, this is neither environmentally sustainable nor socially desirable. In this chapter we discuss how to design technologies which reflect the values of environmental sustainability and social appropriateness. We also emphasize the importance of heeding the precautionary principle in order to prevent unintended consequences, as well as the need for participatory design in order to ensure greater democratic control of technology. Finally, as a specific example of an environmentally sustainable and socially appropriate technology, we discuss the positive contribution of local, organic, small-scale agriculture.

Conclusion

This essay has presented the reader with ramblings of a person who is familiar with Critical Theory, who would like to build a stronger connection to nature, and who is having a major identity crisis in life. I have expressed, albeit feebly, my will to emancipate myself, to exit the Matrix. In Finnish they would say ”Sota ei yhtä miestä kaipaa”, and in George S. Patton’s words this expression would be ”Hell, they won’t miss me, just one man in thousands.”

In this essay I seem to have extensively quoted the Unabomber manifesto. This is not to say that Kaczynski had exceptionally good motives or justifications for his actions. He killed many people and is in prison now. Kaczynski’s ideas are not unique. Quoting his manifesto serves merely to prove one point: he is the product of his environment. Mental illness is no longer a taboo and things have progressed somewhat since Kaczynski’s days. It could be argued that Kaczynski’s writings were just projection of his own feelings of shame and guilt he had gone through. But his mental condition, should he be diagnosed with one (Amador & Reshmi 2000), does not invalidate the things he’s written. In many ways his writings are now more relevant than ever. When we have tech billionaires talking about inserting neuralinks into your brain and downloading thoughts straight from the headquarters, we can really see the manifesto dots connecting.

I wish it would have been just the mental load caused by a ’surrogate activity’ of keeping up with the Joneses that was the cause of all this, but no, it’s the real deal now. When we have corporate executives and federal commissions defending autonomous weapons systems and saying building such systems is a ’moral imperative’ (Gershgorn 2021), you know we have reached peak civilization. It’s all downhill from now on. All participation in society will support this moral imperative, and I don’t want to have anything to do with it. While many would get back to nature for reasons of convenience, such as better health, Rousseau himself would have gotten back to nature ”to feel God in nature” (LaFreniere 1990). It is this kind of humanist transcendentalism (not transhumanism) that we will need again, to realize what we have done to our planet, to realize what needs to be done to abolish the war machine consuming it, and to make ourselves whole again.

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dandelionflower · 5 years

Note

Uhhh they both get snowed in in cafe thats about to close Freeing marinette gets a blanket from her bookbag and has to share with felix

[Send me Felinette prompts/requests]

“How wonderful it must be, not having a soulmate.”

That was what Marinette heard cooed over her cradle every night.

Of every possible soulmate connection, she had none of them, and her parents couldn’t be prouder.

“A life of your own,” her mother marveled, “never being pressured to chase after a Prince Charming that turns out to be less than charming.”

Marinette’s parents married outside of their soulmate bond. They met their soulmates, and they were both beautiful people, the stuff out of a cheesy romance novel for certain, but they felt a greater pull to each other.

Of course, people were enraged. Marriage outside of a soulmate bond? Unheard of!

Cruel theories popped up, claiming that the reason Marinette had no bond was because of this, a punishment for ignoring the ties of fate.

Her mother whispered to her, every night and every waking moment, that it wasn’t a punishment, wasn’t a problem, wasn’t a bad thing, not to have a soulmate. But in a world where blind dates were just sketching something on a palm, it was hard to believe.

Marinette still found herself on the receiving end of brutally harsh comments at school, usually by Chloe Bourgeois, who was born from a red string of fate bond, but whose parents parted ways after seeing the soul-tattoos on her leg. Andre supported his daughter. Audrey did not.

Kinder students theorized that Marinette wasn’t made for anyone, that she would never feel romantic attraction. Marinette knew, though, from every sigh that slipped through her mouth when a cute boy passed by, that it wasn’t true.

She wanted to have that unexplainable bond with someone, she prayed every night that she would find that special someone, but to no avail.

She had wasted almost ten years of her life over someone who didn’t exist, it was time to refocus, pick up a hobby. She adored the lovely clothes she saw in the fancy shops so she decided on trying her hand at designing.

Her first item; an easily portable blanket for the phantom chills she got at random times in the day.

—

“Disgusting, a child without a soulmate bond. Mark my words, he will be a disgrace to the family name.”

Those were the words Felix heard hissed at him from nearly birth.

His mother tried desperately to calm his father, to assure him of Felix’s inner worth.

But in the end, it wasn’t enough, and she filed for divorce, a phenomenon almost unheard of in a soulmate-centric society.

Felix was never going to be a disgrace to his father’s name, because he was raised with his mother’s.

He tried to ignore his lack of a soulmate, tried to tell himself that it wasn’t necessary in becoming a successful human being, but it got harder and harder with every day.

The final straw was when his mother met her true soulmate; it turned out that Felix’s father had staged their meeting, reading the words right off of her arm. She was married happily to their bodyguard in a matter of weeks.

Felix couldn’t take it, he couldn’t tolerate people looking down at him with distaste and pity. Poor boy. No soulmate, did you know?

He dove headfirst into soulmate studies, looking for anything, anything, doctors may have missed.

His only hope was his enhanced sensitivity to the cold, which could possibly mean he had a soulmate with a sensitivity to heat.

It was barely a shred of hope, but it was the only hope he had.

—

Marinette hunkered down in a large chair, drawing furiously in her sketchbook. She had two designs due for a contest next week and a commission for the week after.

It also didn’t help that she hadn’t had a chill in weeks, which meant that she would get an especially bad one soon.

Her only solace at the moment was coffee, black, in her secret place of inspiration; the Soulmate Garden, her favorite coffee shop.

It was just outside the community garden and was famously known for romantic but casual atmosphere, which made it a perfect place for first dates between soulmates.

Which meant tons of fashion that Marinette could gain inspiration from.

The dull chatter allowed her to sink into her notebook and draw whatever her heart desired.

But soon, the chatter faded and Marinette was left in almost complete silence. She didn’t notice. She didn’t notice the baristas leaving and locking the doors. She also didn’t notice the roaring storm outside, sending torrents of snow in piles against the door.

She was her work, she was in the zone.

A muffled “thump” was heard and Marinette looked up for the first time in hours to see a boy around her age, shivering on the floor.

—

This was it. This was how he’d die.

He knew everyone was leaving, before the storm snowed them all in, but he just couldn’t stop watching.

He looked at each person, and knew, knew what their soulmate bond was before even saying a word to them.

The bouncy adventurous girl in the corner? She was certain to see a red string handing from her finger.

The timid boy curled over his book? A black mark, soon to turn to color at the touch of his soulmate.

The snarky teenager, gossiping with his friends? He drew on his arms every night in conversation with his soulmate.

It was amazing what people missed when they had a soulmate bond. They forgot about everyone else’s and focused entirely on their own, never noticing those hidden connections between personality and soulmate bond.

The girl in the big reading chair, huddled to her notebook, was a mystery. No soulmate bond seemed fit for her.

Felix shrugged it off. So he didn’t know, it wasn’t a problem.

He continued watching the people entering, but mostly leaving, the café until he was practically the only person in the building.

The barista, Lark, same song bond, had left, evidently not noticing Felix still in the room.

He shuffled to the doors and gave them a shove, wincing at the feeling of the cold glass. He tried again with all his strength but nothing. He was locked in.

The room steadily chilled and Felix felt his body spasming with shivers. He fell to the floor and shook softly, wishing he could have said goodbye to his mother.

Suddenly, a feeling of warmth enveloped him and he opened his eyes to find a blanket covering him, the girl from the chair standing over him with a worrisome expression.

“Are you okay?” She asked, crouching down beside him.

“Yes,” he sat up so he was eye level to her, “I just have an extreme sensitivity to the cold.”

“Hmm.” She looked like she was about to say something else, but stopped as shudders wracked through her body. She dove under the blanket with Felix and shuddered beside him.

“Sorry.” She looked up at him. “I get these weird cold shakes sometimes.”

“It’s understandable. Besides, this is your blanket.”

“So it’s fine if I stay under here with you?”

“Of course, it will likely help both of us keep warm.”

—

Felix woke up with the girl slumping on him, completely asleep.

A knock sounded from the door and a barista, Pierce, color blind bond, waved a set of keys in the air.

Felix quickly nudged the girl awake and stood, relief coursing through his veins.

It took some time for Pierce to push all of the snow from in front of the door, but once he did, Felix had never felt so happy to be cold.

“Frick.” The girl spoke staring down at her bag.

“What?”

She picked up her phone and shook it at him. “We had our phones the whole time.”

Felix looked at the phone for a long time before groaning.

“Yeah.” She laughed. “Anyway, do you want to exchange numbers? You seem like a nice guy, and I’d like to see if we can be friends.”

“That would be nice.” Felix agreed and told her his number, receiving a text soon after.

Unknown number: Hi :D

Blanket guy: Hello.

They talked for a while before she had to leave and get home.

Felix went home as well, and after describing the situation to his mother and stepfather, chose to take the day to rest and reread one of his favorite soulmate research books.

It wasn’t long after he had finished that his phone buzzed.

Blanket girl: I just realized I have no idea what your name is.

Blanket girl: So,,,, hi, my name is Marinette, what’s your name?

Felix answered quickly and leaned back in his chair as he waited for her reply.

“Marinette...”

@julia-evergarden

#felinette #ml felix #felix agreste #felix culpa #marinette dupain cheng #ml marinette #miraculous ladybug #soulmate au #ml soulmate au #request #mlb

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lilsherlockian1975 · 4 years

Text

The Nose Knows

A little soulmates AU, mostly fluff. Here’s part one. This is NOT beta’d, sorry for any mistakes. Huge thanks to @mel-loves-all for helping out with editing the images since I’m an ignorant goose penis when it comes to all that business. Blame me for the quality of the pics... it’s what I picked out for her. ~LiL~

-o-o-o-o-

He catches it on a breeze. It hits him like a physical blow and he instantly knows what he’s smelling, if not... who.

He and his cousin Daven are sitting on one of the few available benches on the Quad. Addam, his best friend since childhood, is talking about some girl he’d met at a sorority mixer the night before but as soon as the scent drifts his way, Jaime pretty much tunes out the sordid tale of sloppy, near-anonymous sex. It’s a gorgeous Spring day, not a cloud in the sky and no hint of rain for the first time in at least two weeks. This fact alone has driven most of the student population out of doors, making it almost impossible for him to quickly assign the scent to its owner.

Jaime is instantly ill at ease, which is unfortunate as moments ago he’d felt entirely in his element. He and his twin sister had celebrated their twenty-second name day the weekend before and prior to the scent, he’d been feeling at the very top of his game. Now he’s... confused and excited and anxious all at once.

Less than two months and he will be finished with this gods’ forsaken town and its massive university. He’s already been accepted at Crakehall School of Art & Design for his post-grad, which is, incidentally, where he originally had planned to study. His father’d had different ideas, forcing Jaime into the business programme at KLU. Thankfully, he had managed to slip a minor in Architecture into his degree by selling Tywin a load of shit about wanting to ‘propel Castlery Corp. into the modern era’. The minor had added a full year to Jaime’s studies and without a major in his chosen field, he will have to take supplementary classes at CSAD but he’s certain it will be worth it in the end.

None of that matters now. Tywin Lannister had died of a massive stroke seven months ago. Jaime supposes he should feel worse about that; should feel some kind of loss or sadness, and maybe he does, though not for the reasons most sons would for the death of a parent. But the old man was never a real father. He’d been indifferent toward Tyrion, dismissive toward Cersei - though he could occasionally be somewhat warmer to his only female child - and constantly demanding that Jaime ‘live up to the Lannister name’. Jaime can feel sympathy for their mother, of course, she did love the old bastard, but neither he nor his sister are overly damaged by the old man’s death. Oddly enough, their father’s death seems to be affecting his little brother the most.

The scent assails him again and this time he stands, walking towards it, leaving Addam sputtering objections and calling him names. Jaime doesn’t care. The only thing he cares about is the originator of that smell.

He passes small groups of fellow students, all equally excited about the respite from the spring rains. The Quad is packed, of course, so it’s no easy task. Not to mention that he probably looks like some kind of weirdo, walking around, nose first and… sniffing. But he’s being driven by something entirely out of his control.

Though he’s never really given much thought to the idea of soulmates, he knows they exist - his Uncle Gerion and Aunt Briony are soulmates, for instance, but it’s rarely talked about within the family, almost as if it is some dirty secret. Actually, for some unknown reason, talking about soulmates seems to be taboo in ‘polite society’. Uncle Gerion - his favourite uncle - however, is quite outspoken against Lannister Family tradition and societal norms. The phenomenon, as far as he knows, is very rare these days and Jaime has never once even considered the possibility for himself.

Now… Now there's no doubt. He can smell her - them? - whoever! Jaime’s never been attracted to men, but somehow he knows that if the gods have seen it fit to match him with a man… so be it!

Shaking himself, he chuckles as he moves to another group of students. It won’t be a man, he thinks. Surely the gods would have given him some kind of inclination towards his own sex if… Suddenly, he’s engulfed with the scent. They’re close, they must be! He turns, following his nose like a damn toucan.

The crowd thins a bit; it’s the top of the hour and people are rushing off to class. Jaime’s eyes and, yes, his nose, zero in on his target. Shit! It is a dude! He’s taller than Jaime by maybe an inch or so with short, straw-like blond hair, broad shoulders and… He’s just about to resign himself to a future that he’d never even considered (okay, so he’s maybe had the odd thought here and there about other guys - everyone has, right?! Right?) when they turn around and…

“You’re a girl,” he says without thinking.

She (oh, thank the gods she’s a she!) narrows her eyes, straightens her spine and glares. “Yes, I am. And you’re not very original, I’m afraid,” she says coldly before stalking past him.

What?! No! She’s… she’s supposed to know. She’s supposed to smell him too. What in the seven hells is going on?! “Wait!” Jaime calls out but she doesn’t stop. He can’t give up, he just can’t. Sprinting to catch up, he reaches out for her, wanting to stop her, to talk to her. He doesn’t make it that far, though. Just before he touches her arm, she jerks back - maybe she saw him in her peripheral vision, maybe it’s some strange side effect of their connection, he doesn’t know - but when he sees the look in her unbelievably blue eyes, he’s the one flinching away.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” she practically growls, “but you can’t just go around insulting people, chasing after them then touching them as if it’s your right!”

“But it is,” he replies lamely because... how doesn’t she know?

Her responding laugh is mocking and he can’t deny that it hurts him in a way he never imagined being hurt. Shaking her head, she sneers as she looks him up and down. “Guys like you are all the same…”

There are no guys like me, he thinks but luckily, this time he holds his tongue.

“I know I’m an easy target - hard to miss, low hanging fruit and whatnot - I’m just not in the mood for this nonsense today.”

Jaime knows he should give up, regroup and try again later, but patience has never been his strong suit. “I wasn’t… It wasn’t an insult. I was…” ‘Surprised’ sounds insulting and really, how does she still not know? His mind scrambles for a word to properly describe his condition. Finally, he settles on, “Confused?” though it unintentionally comes out as a question.

This seems to only further enrage the girl. She takes a step back, draws a deep breath and, once again, shakes her head. “Find someone else to help you figure out your sexuality!”

Okay, there’s a story there, Jaime’s sure of it but he doesn’t have time to ask. “No-no, you’re misunderstanding me. I know I’m not gay.” Although the fact that he considered it for thirty seconds or so is something he’ll deal with later! “I’m saying that…”

“I really don’t care what you’re saying.” Again, her eyes travel over him and Jaime has never felt so judged in his entire life. “It’s nothing new, it’s nothing I’ve not heard before. Do you really think you’re the first prick to want to screw with me? I’m guessing it’s another bet. Who put you up to this? Red? Bushy? If it was Hyle, I swear to the Seven...”

“None of them! I don’t even know who you’re talking about!” When he thinks about her words, an intense feeling of protectiveness overcomes him. “What bet? What did they do?”

Her pale, freckle-covered cheeks turn an interesting shade of pink as she hitches her messenger bag higher on her shoulder before crossing her arms over her chest. “Nothing. Never mind. Just… Just leave me alone. Please.” The last word comes out softly, pleadingly and it just about breaks Jaime’s heart. Turning, she starts to go.

“I’m not a creep!” he calls out, managing to stop her escape. Looking around, he notices that, miraculously, the Quad has pretty much cleared out. If their fellow students hadn’t been in such a rush to return to class he and the angry girl would have surely drawn a crowd. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself before continuing, “And I’m not a prick. I am sort of an arsehole, but not - I think, not like those guys you mentioned. Whatever they did... hurt you enough to make you make that face…”

She whips around. “What about my face?”

With a sigh, he says, “It looks sad. Too sad. It’s not supposed to.” And what does that even mean? he wonders as the words leave his mouth.

She’s surprised for a split second, then all emotion seems to drain from her features. “I don’t know why you’re doing this but please just… leave me alone.”

So he does. For now.

-o-o-o-o-

There is a very good reason that Brienne doesn’t know ‘who’ Jaime is. This is just the first part, I’m working on the next bit. Please let me know what you think. Thanks ~Lil~

#jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #uni AU #modern AU #game of thrones

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scripttorture · 4 years

Note

You mentioned in a recent ask that sometimes torture victims will hurt themselves in order to reduce their ability to process the pain of being tortured and that it's an instinctual response. I was wondering if you could talk more about this phenomenon? I've never heard of this concept before. Thank you for your time!

You know I’m not sure if I have anything that’s specifically on this behaviour pattern. I’m pretty sure there must be papers on it but I first came across a discussion in Rejali’s Torture and Democracy.

Rejali pointed it out as a consistent pattern in survivor accounts and linked it to theories about how we process pain. But he did this very briefly. Probably because it’s not exactly his area.

Alleg describes doing it in his account of the Franco-Algerian war. He hit his head against the floor repeatedly while he was being tortured with electric shocks.

I’ve not seen any experts describe it as instinctive behaviour. But that’s my conclusion based on the survivors accounts I’ve read, on the way they describe it. I’m going to leave Alleg’s description here as an example:

‘I felt the intensity diminish, the cramps which had stiffened my whole body decrease, and all of a sudden, as he turned the magento back to its full force, the current was tearing me to pieces again. In order to escape these sudden easings and sharp increases towards the maximum agony, I started to bang my head against the ground with all my force and each blow brought me relief.’

I’ve read several accounts of similar head banging and a few where survivors described throwing themselves at cell walls. In one account a survivor talked about using biting insects in their cell as a distraction from the restraint torture they were in.

And this is the point where I start to curse indexing systems because none of the academic sources order their discussions of self-harm in victims in an easy-to-find manner. I can’t find the reference for that particular account although I know it is buried somewhere in Rejali’s 600 odd pages.

O’Mara talks about pain and how it works, especially in relation to torture, at some length. However I’ve struggled to find references to self harm particularly in his book.

And as far as I can see the papers O’Mara references didn’t examine self harm as a factor. Ethics committees are a lot more willing to sign off on volunteers being encouraged to swear to see if it improves pain tolerance (it does) then they are encouraging them to hit themselves to see if it produces the same effect.

I don’t know if this is correct so I would suggest fact checking it but this is how I rationalise this behaviour based on what I know about how pain works.

Without getting into the complex details signals passing between nerve cells depend on a chemical being released by one cell and detected by the next. Think of it as like- That child’s game where people try to catch a ball in a small cup. Each cup can only fit one ball and each nerve can only ‘hold’ so many cups.

This means there’s a physical limit on the amount of sensation we can process. There’s a point when the nerves simply can not report anything else.

Based on that I think that torture victims hurting themselves is taking advantage of how our nervous systems work: it’s reducing the perception of one intense pain by introducing another less intense sensation. And the signal from one masks part of the signal from the other.

I know that therapists sometimes suggest using non-harmful, physical sensation to reduce distress and discomfort. Things like applying gentle pressure to part of the body or eating something with an intense flavour can help reduce feelings of mental (and physical) discomfort.

I wonder whether this is related. It seems like a sensible leap to make, but since neurology isn’t my area I’m not sure if I’m trying to form a connection where none exists.

It’s sometimes difficult to say what is effective in relieving pain and how effective it is. A distraction will not eliminate the cause of pain, but for some people it can reduce the perceived sensation of it (purely anecdotal).

There’s some evidence to suggest a more positive mindset can reduce a person’s perception of pain.

Then there’s the fact that our pain thresholds change and more exposure to particular types of pain raises those pain thresholds. Which means that in a very real sense a victim’s self harming behaviour can help them ‘cope’ with torture.

I haven’t really discussed the fact that Alleg’s head banging could have rendered him unconscious.

Essentially pain is complicated. We still don’t have a full understanding of it. And there are a lot of factors that could potentially feed into self harming reducing a victim’s pain.

I’m not confident enough in my knowledge of pain and neurology to go into any greater detail. I’m just not sure.

One of the frustrating things about this topic is that it overlaps so many subjects and I am definitely not an expert in all of them. There are a lot of areas where my knowledge is a lot lower then I’d like. It’s usually ‘good enough’ to cover things that are directly related to writing about torture but the further out we get the more sketchy it can get. This is a topic that sort of demands you become a jack of all trades.

Anyway, I hope that helps, little though it is. I would recommend picking up a copy of O’Mara’s book if you’re interested. It’s the most accurate and approachable introduction to the topic I’ve found. :)

Availableon Wordpress.

Disclaimer

#cutopenmysternum #writing advice #tw torture #tw self harm #self harm #pain #pain thresholds #writing victims #neurology #coping with pain

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metanoiyed-archive · 4 years

Text

“A Deed Without A Name” by Lee Morgan Notes and Thoughts part four

Recap of part three, available here if you haven’t seen it.

In part three, we discussed the witch’s association with death and reformation, hedgecrossing and developing relationships with liminal places. We also discussed western occultism and the daimonic self/double, the fetch-beast, riding plants, and initiatory processes, and last but not least the idea of fat as vitality.

The Witches Circle & Ritual Security/Sanctifying of Space

Brief lore: Sabbats have usually retained the theme of being gatherings, with feasts shared and festivities around a fire, with the different between the faerie gathering and the witches sabbat being the difference in light vs dark, and eating things binding you to the faerie gathering, uncontrollable dancing, ecstasy dancing at the witches sabbat. ‘Hexenringe’ or ‘witches rings’ are believed to be made by dancing faeries.

There’s not a lot of evidence to suggest that witches ever worked in circles, meaning that the idea of a perfectly circular cleansed ritual space might be entirely new.

The popularity of a circle may have come from the fairy ring phenomenon mentioned, hexenringe.

It also could possibly originate from lore of fairy doctoring, where a faerie doctor draws a ring around themselves with a charcoal from a stick with a burned tip in the dirt or floor for the purpose of healing or divination.

There’s also the mention of sanctifying of space done by the familiar spirits, rousing them through offerings of smoke and drumming or by bells, rattles, or whistling; any method the witch has been instructed to call upon them by. Morgan mentions that faerie doctors employ a similar tactic of drumming.

Historically [something I have read in multiple places, for example like ‘The Silver Bullet’] objects like the witches boot or witches bottles were instilled in walls for protection or buried around the property. From what I’ve found, there were more often than not a lot of tactic’s regarding keeping witches out.

After all of that, Morgan goes on to say there are in fact times that you should employ the use of a full circle, particularly for necromancy and exorcisms.

If there’s a worry of ritual security, Morgan mentions that after performing a ritual to protect yourself you can begin by putting salt on the working area and sweeping it out with a broom. Then, inscribe a piece of wood or leather with the words: Rotas, Opera, Arepo, Sator. Then the object should be wrapped and hidden somewhere close to the place where you perform witchcraft in the home.

He goes on to talk about Modern Traditional Witchcraft employing a ‘Triangle of art’. [More on that here]

The practice has been absorbed from grimoires over time into Traditional Craft, though the explanation for the circle and triangle was given to Morgan in relation to necromancy.

Suffumigation/Offerings

Morgan mentions traditional methods of offering to spirits, like dragons blood burned in fire in Welsh folklore [before divination]

John Walsh, a witch of the West County, burned frankincense and St John’s Wort before his rituals

Grimoires of ceremonial magic have complex suffumigations that can be burned to aid manifestation of spirits.

More Fetch-Beast Stuff

The fetch-beast must choose you; though your intuition can help you figure out possibilities. Morgan describes a type of divination to discover your fetch beast which I’ve posted here.

Common fetch-creatures of Europe are: fox, mouse, dog, badger, eagle, raven, snake, horse, bear, deer, owl, and boar. Predatory animals out number the prey animals, usually, only creatures of extreme physical power like a strong or wild horse are the exception to that rule, or small animals like mice that have strengths involving secrecy, cunning, and adaptability.

#a deed without a name notes #notes #witchblr #long post #studying #studyblr

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markwhitwell · 4 years

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Does “Hathayoga” Really Mean Force? An Interview With Yoga Master Mark Whitwell

Mark Whitwell | Heart of Yoga

Mark Whitwell is a world-renowned yoga teacher of the old school, who for decades has been sharing the tools of body movement and breath and bearing witness to the madness of the yoga industrial complex with compassion. Sometimes seeming to have stepped directly out of a fourteenth-century Tantric temple, Mark teaches in the traditional way of transmission between teacher and student through non-hierarchical and sincere mutual friendship and affection.

We wanted to interview Mark as someone who does not just hold knowledge of Yoga but embodies it (as you will see if you spend some time with him) about whether “hathayoga” really means “the yoga of force,” as claimed in numerous books and articles. In a world where one study found Yoga to be more dangerous than all other sports COMBINED, and where yoga-related injuries are increasing rapidly, do we really want or need a practice whose very name indicates “force?”

Interview by: The Dirt Magazine, an independent online magazine featuring new writing on spirituality, embodiment, relationships and psychology.

The Dirt: Mark, let’s start with the big question: does haṭhayoga really mean yoga of force?

Mark Whitwell: Well, some have translated and interpreted it that way, and some certainly practice it that way, so maybe we have to say that to them, it does. But I would argue that no, it does not mean that, because if what you are doing is forceful, than it is not yoga.

I have to tell you, I am not an academic. I am not a scholar reading Sanskrit who can look back through the texts and tell you the meanings. But I am very interested in the findings of those who are doing that work, and how it aligns with what for all of us should be the main touchstone of truth, which is our own embodied experience. Not our opinions and impressions, because as we know they can be severely warped, but something deeper.

The Dirt: So could you give us a quick overview of that research, maybe some leads if people want to dig deeper?

Mark Whitwell: Well for the academics reading this, a good place to start is Jason Birch’s article, The Meaning of

Haṭha in Early Haṭhayoga, (Editor’s note: this is available on academia here.) I found this very interesting to hear about what is said in the Tantric and haṭhayoga texts of over a thousand years ago, in some cases.

For starters, it is very interesting to me that Jason Birch finds that all the early references seem to refer to something earlier and lost. So the truth is we don’t know the earliest roots and uses of the word. I believe it may go way way back to the time of the Vedas, but there is no textual evidence for that yet. But I also feel we should be careful not to impose the western academic paradigm of needing textual proof onto what is essentially an Indigenous knowledge system with its own systems of — not belief, that’s dismissive, something deeper — own ontologies, own ways of understanding reality, that should not be seen as less true than the ‘rational’ academic paradigm. Otherwise we’re just continuing the legacy of colonial cruelty, assuming the western paradigm is superior.

The Dirt: That’s very interesting. Could you give us an example of that?

Mark Whitwell: Sure, take for example Krishnamacharya’s text, the Yoga Rahasya. Krishnamacharya described how this was transmitted to him from his ancestor Nathamuni. This kind of thing is absolutely normal and completely dignified, serious and sincere within the Vedic traditions, the Tibetan traditions, the Yoga traditions… all across that ancient world there is a deep tradition of transmission of teachings beyond time and space. This is dismissed or seen as a quaint anthropological phenomenon by modern academic scholars, starting from the first European Indologists, who want to find out the ‘real’ story according to the known laws of western physics etc. “who actually wrote the piece” — that world actually reveal a lot, the assumption of the superiority or priority of their lens on reality. I recommend reading Charles Eisenstein’s essay, ‘The Feast of Whiteness’ for a really good explanation of the problem of imposing a western framework of “but what really happened” onto another culture’s ways of knowing, and suggestions for other ways of engaging.

The Dirt: I think we could have a whole other conversation about that subject alone. But let’s come back to the findings about what ancient texts say about haṭhayoga. Some people who don’t like the implications of ‘force’ use a translation of haṭha as meaning “sun and moon.” Is there a history of that, or is it a modern new age invention?

Mark Whitwell: Oh, there is absolutely a deep profund history of that. Ha and Tha, sun and moon, the union of opposites within and without. Strength receieving, male and female in perfect prior union. This is the essence of the Tantras, and as we now know, haṭhayoga comes to us from the tantric period, approximately 400–1500 CE.

Going back to Jason Birch’s research, he notes that modern books and practitioners have been drawn to the “sun and moon” definition to avoid the distastefulness of “force”. I mean people are using force, but they still don’t want it branded as that. He finds clear definitions of Yoga as the union of sun and moon in early Haṭha texts such as the Amṛtasiddhi (11th/12th century), and of the syllables ha and ṭha being used to indicate sun and moon, and inhale and exhale in earlier medieval Tantric texts. So this definition is valid, but it’s not widespread in the older texts to my understanding. We have the word haṭha in use before that definition is first found.

The Dirt: So what did it mean in those earlier contexts?

Mark Whitwell: Well I think we have to consider what is meant by force. Because there is very much a force we encounter in our yoga, which is the force of life. You know, one aspect of Christopher Tompkins’ excellent work has been pointing out that there are zero references in the tantric literature to a person raising their kundalini, in the sense of a coiled force at the base of the spine. There are references to a coiled force that may act upo0n you, descending down and then rising up your spine, but we don’t awaken kundalini, we are awakened by it. That sense of I the doer is dissolved. If anyone says to you “I awakened my kundalini” or “I had a kundalini awakening” something has gone very wrong, their identity structure has co-opted an experience of some kind and taken it on as an identity possession. Anyway, force is like this. It is something that acts upon us, something we join up with, something we are, not something “you” as a limited and separate self identity enact upon, to use Mary Oliver’s immortal phrase, that poor soft animal of your body. Your yoga is your participation in this force, this power, that you are. Not a manipulation of it, not trying to get to it. Abiding in it. This is how the ancient texts of our tradition speak about yoga, that energy may move forcefully, but not as an act of forceful volition.

Jason Birch has tracked it all down and finds the early Haṭha texts using the word “haṭhat” or forcibly, but only toward a movement of energy, not toward the body or into any movement or action. It has a sense of taking the normal downward movement in embodied life and turning it around, not violently. The implication is “that Haṭhayogic techniques have a forceful effect, rather than requiring forceful effort.” (Birch 2011). Force in the modern sense of pushing these poor old bodies into something that makes them sweat, shake, collapse, strain and sprain is absolutely not there. These are serious devotional practices we are talking about, from the Tantric cultures, one of the lost wonders of the world with their incredible insight that matter was not a degraded shackle pulling down our ethereal souls, but rather just on the spectrum of vibration of the whole cosmos. It’s a similar perspective to the understanding of modern physics that matter is just energy, not solid at all. This was radical, that the body could be a site of liberation, of deity abiding, not just a hindrance to be managed and bullied. The Christian legacy of anti-materiality is deep in the western psychology and has very much shaped the western approach to yoga. We are not that far on from self-flagellation and hair shirts.

The Dirt: So how could we summarise your interpretation of the word haṭha.

Mark Whitwell: I was always taught that asana and pranayama must be done carefully and within our breath capabilities, measured by the number of breaths and the ration of breaths. So I affirm the academic findings that haṭha can either mean the union of sun and moon — that’s accurate, and poetic and beautiful — or it can mean the great force of life, the energy of life that is moving through us, as us, and which our yoga enables us to feel and participate in. To be devoted to. A great force is moving the planets and oceans, the sun and moon, growing your hair. What is that force? What is the force that grows a seed? That force, that power. We don’t enact that, we recognise and abide in it.

As far as I know, looking at the translation work of Birch and Christopher Tompkins and others, “the word haṭha is never used in Haṭha texts to refer to violent means or forceful effort.” (Birch 2011). That matches my experience with Krishnamacharya and Desikachar, and their students such as Srivatsa Ramaswami. All emphasise that the key qualities to master asana were comfort, ease, and stability. Never force.

The Dirt: Could the association of yoga with the word force be to do with the association with tapasya, with ascetics?

Mark Whitwell: Yes, there has been great confusion in the last 500 years between ascetics and yogis. You might like to refer to the excellent article by Domagoj Orlić, “Why Yoga is Neither Physical Gymnastics.” Yoga became associated with obscene acts of self-torture, holding one’s arm in the air for years and years, a metal grate around one’s neck, and such extremes. Yet these extreme practices are not there in the Tantras, the Shastras, the Haṭha texts. They are not yoga. Mortification of the flesh is the opposite to realising the intrinsic union of the source and the seen. It was the early Europeans coming to India and trying to understand what they saw that really popularised an idea of yoga as force, as self-violence. Perhaps reflecting the internalised violence of their own culture. A kind of projection that the Yoga sutras warns us about. And getting confused with the fakirs and ascetics, and seeing it all as a suspicious kind of witchcraft. India internalised all of that British projection and judgement. By the time Krishnamacharya was teaching, yoga was not seen as a high or holy calling. This was a man with the equivalent of 6 or seven PhDs, yet he was teaching yoga, as a very serious undertaking, in a time when it was not taken seriously at all. He would do some kinds of “feats” at the Maharaj’s request, such as stopping his heart for doctors, that kind of thing. But he refused to teach this to his son when he begged him. He said it was just to get attention for yoga, to get the ball rolling so to speak.

The Dirt: So there was also a confusion between ascetiscism and yoga within India as well?

Mark Whitwell: Yes. It’s something Desikachar would often clarify. Krishnamacharya really stood apart from any of the traditions based on anti-body philosophies, dualistic transcendent schools that saw the body as a bag of rotting flesh, a meatsack, that needed to be bullied and purified and ideally gotten rid of altogether. That kind of school has denigrated asana and pranayama the way they denigrate the body itself. Krishnamacharya’s lineage came from the 10th century Ramanujacharya, who had declared that yoga was the means that the two became one, and that householders and ordinary people could practice this. He wasn’t from a monastic, man alone type tradition. Even his guru in the Himalayas, Ramamohan Brahmachari, lived there with his wife and children, in his accounts.

So Krishnamacharya really represented the coming together of these great traditions of Vedanta and Tantra, which belong together. They are branches from the same great tree and are now back together.

The Dirt: And finally, could you tell us what you have observed in terms of the impact of this misunderstanding on people’s yoga, and how to correct that.

Mark Whitwell. Thank you. Thanks for caring about all the people out there, sweating away and struggling and getting injured. I think the idea that the body, that the earth, that the feminine is less, something to be conquered and controlled, has done great harm. It is the basis of centuries of patriarchal culture. And that cultural split, between some sense of essence within, and a dead materiality without, has enabled humanity to use and abuse its Mother, the body of Nature, and our own bodies are part of that body. So the conditioning towards a forcefulness towards embodiment runs very deep. This is the same psychology in the earlier Indologists translating haṭha as simple “yoga of force” and in the bullies who rose to prominence in the yoga world. And then the same psychology in the western students, who had been conditioned to control themselves, restrain the body, who were beaten at school, who thought a good teacher hit you with a stick to help you get it right… who were hit by their parents… this is the western mind, the modern mind, the cultural framework criticised as “whiteness,” but I don’t think that is accurate enough, as it is not intrinsically tied to skin colour. Basically it is deeply in us to bully and force the body, and yoga is our way out of that, into reverence and ease, and yet it has been popularized as mere duplication of the same old hegemonic patterns of abuse.

Your body is tired. It’s been forced into so many things it didn’t want to do. Deprived of sleep, filled with comfort food, too much or too little, plucked and poisoned, whipped along in jobs it hated, squashed into uniforms and cubicles. Yoga is the freeing of our bodies from all of this, the freedom to be that soft animal, that embodiment of love, that piece of wild mother nature. Our yoga is careful, precise, different for each unique embodiment. Please, don’t throw yourself around in the circus gymnastics they’re calling yoga. It’s just simply not. It’s all made up. There is no precedent for this kind of insane forcefulness, this self-violence. Step out of it all and be free, live your life in the garden.

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About:

Mark Whitwell was born in 1949 in Auckland, Aotearoa/ New Zealand. In 1973, he traveled to India and began a life-long study of yoga with Tirumalai Krishnamacharya (1888-1989) and his son, T.K.V. Desikachar (1938–2016). Mark Whitwell’s simple mission is to give people the principles of practice that came through Tirumalai Krishnamacharya to make their Yoga authentic, powerful, and effective. Mark Whitwell is the founder of the Heart of Yoga foundation and the Heart of Yoga Peace Project, an organization dedicated to developing yoga communities in conflict zones around the world. Mark Whitwell lives between New Zealand and Fiji.

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