#this is about a dude whose followed me for years on facebook making a silly grammar knitpicking post hus hill to die on regarding they/them

[rpgsandbox]

I started playing Dungeons & Dragons right around the time I completely gave up on Facebook. It was a little less than a year ago, as the first stories broke about the Cambridge Analytica scandal. I was sick of the social media idea of friendship, defined as likes or shares or “X knows the same 50 people you know.” So when my friend Kate suggested we start a game of Dungeons & Dragons, I thought, “Yes, I’m going to get together with people face-to-face, without any hearting or retweeting, and we’re going to eat chips and fight those damn cultists who are trying to resurrect the evil, five-headed dragon queen Tiamat.”

Until then, I had played a little D&D as an adult, but I hadn’t joined a group that met regularly. But I am basically the target demographic for “Stranger Things.” Like the characters on that show, I played D&D in the 1980s with a group of geeky guys every day at lunch throughout the sixth grade, slaying vegepygmies in a crashed spaceship and meeting the great demon Lolth in her sticky transdimensional web.

Kate became our dungeon master, the narrator of our adventure, who sets the scene using maps, dice, flowery language and silly accents. We were joined by seven other friends around my dining room table, eager to take on the roles of fighting monk, rogue, sorcerer, warlock, paladin, bard and cleric. As soon as Kate told us to fill out our character sheets, I remembered the feeling of sheer awesomeness that had drawn me to the game when I was 11. I was about to become an Aarakocra cleric, a bird person with a divine connection to nature who could call down lightning, raise winds, grow plants from the barren earth and heal the dying with a touch.

But D&D isn’t only about inventing a more badass version of myself, with wings and magic powers instead of sneakers and a laptop. I was also drawn to the idea of building a social group whose baseline assumption was that we’d see one another regularly. There’s a sense of purpose to the gathering.

Using a few maps spread on the table, we chart our course, explaining to Kate and one another what we want to do next. And when Kate leaves us on a cliffhanger, there’s no “Hey, I’ll text you later and maybe we can meet up.” Of course we’ll meet up again. The point of the game isn’t to win; it’s to go adventuring together.

Wizards of the Coast, the parent company of Dungeons & Dragons, reported that 8.6 million people played the game in 2017, its biggest year of sales in two decades. That mark was eclipsed in 2018, when D&D sales reportedly grew 30 percent. All of those D&D consumers are snapping up the Fifth Edition, a new rule set released in 2014 that emphasizes a flexible approach to combat and decision-making. New players don’t need to learn as many arcane rules to get started, and sales of D&D starter kits skyrocketed.

Adding to the newfound popularity are thousands of D&D games broadcast on YouTube and the live-stream service Twitch. “Critical Role,” a popular livestream and podcast, features actors playing the game.

This surge of interest is no doubt also inspired by shows like “Stranger Things” and the D&D-esque world of “Game of Thrones.” We want to escape into fantasy worlds where we know who the bad guys are and our spells to banish evil actually work. In this way, D&D is similar to online games like World of Warcraft, where people take on imaginary identities, form a guild and shout at one another using headsets while fighting orcs.

What makes D&D different is that we can never forget about the human beings behind the avatars. When a member of my group makes a bad choice, I can’t look into his face and shout insults the way I would if we were playing online. He’s a person, and my friend, even if he also inexplicably decided to open an obviously booby-trapped trunk, get a faceful of poison and use up my last remaining healing spell.

But online, my friend would be just another dude with leathery blue skin, not someone whose face might crumple in sadness if I’m a jerk. There’s a toxic distance created by online gaming and social networks that allows us to pretend we’re not socializing with friends. Our empathy gets switched off. That may be one reason gamer arguments over fake countries and nonexistent knights can morph all too easily into hate-based social movements in the real world.

Plus, even when things get heated during our D&D game — and they do — none of us can win by getting 10,000 of our “friends” to harass the person we disagree with.

There are, of course, genuine friendships forged in online game worlds and on social media, and I don’t mean to dismiss those. But after months of playing D&D with my friends, I’m socializing on Twitter and other social media less than I did before. I don’t click to see hundreds of half-lives flash before me in an instant. Instead, I look forward to an evening with a handful of people.

What drove me away from Facebook wasn’t just the fake friending. It was that fake friendship could be weaponized, used by a hostile government or group to manipulate us. When we fantasize together, in person, we always know that the bot army isn’t real. We know that an insult can hurt. But online, we wear masks over masks. I still love the internet, but I’d rather have a real friendship with a half-elf bard than a thousand faceless followers.

[gehlien]

eremin | soulmate AU | 2,4k | fluff, mutual pining & happy ending

Eren Jaeger had a simple ‘hi’ written on his wrist, aka the blandest thing the universe could come up with for him.

He couldn’t count the amount of mini heart attacks he’d experienced every time someone introduced themselves to him. The sudden leap from being hopeful to feeling disappointed always left a dry taste in his mouth. To prevent such situations, every time he heard ‘hi’ he would respond with some stupid sayings or random facts about marine life. Thanks to this he got plenty of weirded-out acquaintances, but no soulmate, because apparently no one had ‘I sexually identify as an alien’ tattooed on their skin.

Also, his sudden crush on his best friend Armin wasn’t helping at all. Because they were never supposed to work out. At least that’s what the experts said.

As opposed to Eren, the universe cursed Armin with the most bizarre soulmate mark it could offer. Many people had snorted their noodles out of their noses upon discovering it, others had made some silly remarks about it being kinky. Their reactions were totally understandable and justified, because how many people have ‘daddy’ forever carved onto their skin? A very exposed piece of skin, on top of that.

Another discouraging thing was the fact that all of their friends had already found their soulmate. In the case of Connie and Sasha, there was no room for misunderstanding, because each one of them had a very specific message on their skin. ‘Can I have your potatoes?’ and ‘Aren’t you afraid you’ll get too fat?’ are really hard to miss. Jean’s and Mikasa’a teetered on the edge of a casual exchange (‘Your hair is beautiful!’ followed by a simple ‘Thanks’), so it was a close call, but they managed to find themselves eventually, much to Eren’s displeasure.

“Come on, Armin, everyone knows what your mark says. You should stop wearing long sleeves to school,” Eren said, tugging at the hem of Armin’s shirt while they were on the bus.

“But the teachers have no idea,” he objected.

“If you’re so worried about it then you could cover it with another tattoo.”

“I’m not over eighteen yet.”

“You could get a written permission from you grandad?” Eren was one of these people who believed that finding a solution to a problem was always possible. As long as you also wanted to find it, of course. Which Armin seemed really reluctant to do.

“Maybe I’ll do it when I find my soulmate.”

“Why? Are you worried they won’t believe that it really says what is says?” It was supposed to be a genuine question, but came out as a snicker. “By the way, who the hell would be crazy enough to call you that in the first place? Probably some twat.”

“People these days are very cautious, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they wanted to check it. Which is understandable. I’d also want to be completely sure first before deciding to spend the rest of my life with one person,” said Armin, ignoring Eren’s second comment. “And that’s why you have to be three times as certain. In your case it’s even trickier.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Hi? This system is fucking stupid.”

“But accurate.”

“Who knows? Maybe there’s another person who’s so much better than your ‘soulmate’, but you’ll never know because you settled for what your wrist tattoo told you.”

Eren just couldn’t take it all at face value. Not when the love of his life was walking right beside him. It wouldn’t take a lot of effort to reach for the other boy’s hand. ‘Why can’t this be you?’ he thought, admiring Armin’s diminutive stature, his cute button nose, regal profile, and swaying blond bangs.

He looked at his tattoo, “I wish it said ‘Why don’t you ever fight back?’”. It was the first sentence he’d ever spoken to Armin and since then they’d always been on the same wavelength, no matter the circumstances. How could fate make such a grave mistake?

“I’m staying the night at Jean’s,” Mikasa said, stuffing her backpack with pyjamas and skin care products. “You can invite Armin over.”

“Does mom know?” Eren asked, propping his head on his hand. It was a sunny Friday evening, but he hadn’t got enough rest, so there he was lying flat on his stomach and scrolling through Facebook.

“Of course.”

“Use protection,” he whispered loud enough for her to hear. In turn, Mikasa threw a towel at his face. “Ew, I hope it never had anything to do with horseface’s body fluids.” He threw it back, and Mikasa caught it effortlessly.

“You wish.”

“Dude... you’re disgusting.”

He texted Armin that he was welcome to come over if he wanted. Armin didn’t let him down and agreed without second thoughts. Eren felt his soul ascend.

No other person in the world would ever be able to make him appreciate life as much as Armin. ‘They were perfect for each other’ didn’t even fit the description of how special their bond really was. But there existed a word that could.

Soulmate.

Remember that person you thought about in superlatives only, who met all of your expectations, understood you like no one else, and on top of that had an adorable laugh? Whose only flaw was that they were off limits? That’s how Eren perceived his current situation.

Eren looked at his wrist with burning hatred. He wanted to cry, scream, and punch, but instead he looked at Mikasa with bland expression, defeated.

“Are you happy with Jean?”

Mikasa looked at him, her expression stunned, and put down her phone.

“Yes. Why are you asking?”

“Are you sure he’s the one for you?”

“Well...” She put some stray hair behind her ear in one graceful motion. “We’ve been together for a year now... And I have no complains so far. Actually, I’m happy it’s him.”

“Hm...,” he let out a soft grunt. “Thanks, Mikasa. Have fun.”

After she left the room Eren desperately tried to look up some phrases like ‘soulmate mistakes’ or ‘wrong soulmate assigned to me’, but all in vain. The system was foolproof.

The only results that kind of answered his query were extreme cases like premature deaths, murderers, no soulmate mark or more than one tattoo. All interesting, but did nothing to calm his nerves.

Armin came into his house in a simple black T-shirt, no long sleeves in sight, and Eren sighed with relief. Also, he couldn’t deny that Armin looked like a snack with his forearms exposed and collarbone peeking from behind the material. ‘Is this what people call thirsty?,’ he thought, standing up to grab some spare pillows.

They spent an eternity deciding on a show to watch. The laptop lying on Eren’s lap generated so much heat that in the middle of the movie he had to take off his tank top.

The moment he did it Armin said, “I would kill for an iced coffee.”

Eren sent him a suspicious glare. Was it a direct comment about his bare torso? He wished it was, but at the same time he didn’t allow himself to interrogate Armin more, because in the worst case he’d be outed as a desperate over-reactor.

“I was thinking about going to a night club,” Armin said immediately after the credits rolled on the screen.

“Huh? Why?” The picture of Armin in such a dilapidated, dirty location rubbed Eren up the wrong way.

“I think that’s the place where I’m the most likely to be called...you know, daddy. God, it sounds so stupid.” The fact that Armin still couldn’t openly discuss his mark made the situation even more amusing. Frustration looked funny on his face. “Why are you laughing?”

“It’s good to see that I’m not the only one who’s desperate,” Eren said, winking at him suggestively.

Armin snorted, but let it go.

“Well, all jokes aside, it’s high time we finally found them,” he sighed.

As it turned out later, the drastic measures Armin proposed weren’t needed at all.

A distinct sound of giggles lured them both downstairs, where they found Carla and Armin’s mum sitting on the couch and visibly out of breath.

Upon entering the room they exchanged concerned glances. What was the purpose of this weird meeting?

“Why are you so shocked?” asked Armin’s mum.

“Who told you that old women couldn’t have a girls’ night?” Carla barely kept her composure.

There was a bottle of wine, half empty, and it explained everything. Eren sighed with great pain and drank straight from it; so did Armin a moment later, except he only took a gulp.

“Oi, you’re still a baby!” Carla’s motherly instinct kicked in despite her silly state.

Eren stuck his tongue out and launched himself at the pillows next to Carla. She just waved at him dismissively. Armin plopped down next to his mother and she ruffled his pretty hair. ‘They’re like two peas in a pond,” Eren thought. If you compared their looks and body type, they were almost the same: short, slim, and blonde.

Only Armin’s eyes made a difference, beautiful, deep, and ocean-like. Simply mesmerising.

“What are you doing?” Armin asked, peeking with curiosity above his mother’s arm. That’s when Eren also noticed she was holding a box full of photos.

“We were just talking about what a pain in the neck you two were when you were little,” Carla huffed, crossing her arms on her chest.

“Always ready to fight...” Armin’s mum sighed, probably remembering some vivid details.

“...and Mikasa had to save you every time...”

“because someone couldn’t stop baiting flat earthers...”

Armin let out a nervous laugh. He looked at Eren and shrugged. It really was pretty dumb.

“...and someone couldn’t contain his aggression.” Carla pulled Eren’s ear, who in turn yodelled.

“We get it!” They both said at the same time.

Carla went through the photos and took one with Eren still in diapers. She smiled fondly before showing it to others. “You were cute though,” she said. “I can’t believe you are already sixteen.”

“Muuum,” Eren whined. He couldn’t believe she had forgotten. “I’m already seventeen.” He hoped it was a joke.

Carla’s hand stopped mid-air, her eyes filled with dread. She quickly concealed it and mouthed something to Armin’s mother, who in turn paled and nodded.

“Really?” Eren raised a brow. He wasn’t offended or anything like that, he was just surprised by his mother’s forgetfulness. She always remembered about other people’s birthdays.

“As if you remember how old I am,” she said in an attempt to redeem herself.

“Forty five?” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

“You hesitated.”

“But I’m right,” Eren argued. Carla didn’t respond. Without saying a word, she got up and started rummaging through a cardboard labelled “kids”, and finally found a VHS cassette. Eren hadn’t seen one in a long time.

“What is it for?” Armin asked, out of his depth. For the whole time he was just watching the situation unfold like a complete bystander.

“You’ll see,” she said with a mischievous smirk.

Armin looked at his mother, hoping she’d give them some clue, but she shushed him. They could only watch Carla as she set up an old VHS recorder. It didn’t seem to cooperate at first, but eventually it swallowed the cassette whole.

Eren was expecting something tooth rotting and embarrassing, and his fears came true. He was now facing his ten month old self with chubby cheeks and running nose.

“Smile at mummy! Eren, look!” Grisha pointed at Carla, who was hidden behind the camera. She giggled. “Mummy’s right here!” The kid finally looked at the camera with innocent curiosity.

“Daddy?”

“Not daddy. It’s mum! M-u-m,” he said it, prolonging every vowel. This time little Eren managed to reproduce the sound with his unique, childish accent.

“Aww.” Carla was in awe.

Off-screen the door let out a soft creak, and then footsteps could be heard. Armin’s mum appeared in the frame with long fair hair and a cute baby boy in tow.

“Oh, who’s that? It’s auntie and Armin” Grisha told excited Eren, who suddenly started wriggling in his arms, probably begging to be put down on the floor. Mister Jaeger compelled and another shot showed Eren sitting in front of Armin, who seemed very interested in his thin brown hair. Eren, on the other hand, couldn’t stop staring into his big azure eyes. Some things never change.

“Daddy,” he said suddenly.

Armin, of course, didn’t understand, but replied with a word of his own.

“Hi.”

And then everything clicked into place.

Eren immediately found Armin’s eyes. They were looking back with delight.

“Does it mean what I think it means?” Eren asked, breathless. He felt as if a certain weight had been lifted.

“I can’t believe this...,” Armin said, and for a moment Eren’s heart stopped. Was he disappointed? Unsatisfied? “I’m so glad it’s you.”

If it weren’t for their mothers’ presence, Eren would jump into his arms and smother his face with kisses. One for every time he’d wanted to do that before. Unfortunately, he had to stay civil. At least for another while.

“I guess we’ll leave you boys to yourself?” Carla asked, visibly content with the outcome of this situation.

“Yeah.” Eren nodded. “Just one thing.”

“What is it?”

“Why have you kept this a secret for so long?” The question was also directed at Armin’s mum.

“Oh, honey...,” Carla sighed. “Would you rather I had told you when you were fourteen?”

“Yes. No.” Eren hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“Children this age have better things to worry about than falling in love.”

“We were worried it would change your relationship. And you weren’t ready for romance yet,” Armin’s mother added, getting up and dragging Carla behind her. “We’ll leave you alone for a while.”

“Remember about consent. It’s important.” Was the last thing Carla said before exiting the room, and later the house.

It’s awkward, Eren thought, seeing how Armin kept avoiding his gaze. He could relate; those weren’t the best circumstances to find out someone you had already spent half your life with was your legitimate soulmate. At the same time, he understood his mother’s decision to withhold this news. It wasn’t a coincidence that 98% of people found their significant others in high school or even later.

“I’ve had a crush on you since we started high school,” Eren said to loosen the atmosphere.

“I’ve had a crush on you since you punched Floch that time.”

“Holy shit, that’s long!”

“But I think I always knew. That it’s you, I mean.”

“And are you happy about this?”

“Of course.”

“You’re lying!”

“Have I ever lied to you, Eren?”

Eren smiled. “Never.” Trying not to act too obviously, he sat a little bit closer. “So, can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Armin smiled and leaned in for a kiss, meeting Eren halfway.

[sprinklig-kindness-podcast]

Lucifer

What’s up guys? Hello, how are you? Welcome to your favorite podcast?

Today we're going to talk about Lucifer, two weeks ago I started to watch in my free time the TV show Lucifer because a year ago on Facebook I saw the trailer of the fourth season and I really wanted to see it.

I think everyone has heard about the devil and god, good and evil, many people also know the story of Adam and Eve and about the apple, it's general culture to know those stories. I don't identify myself as a religious person, I like to be very open about theories about the origin of time.

Since it's October and sadly I have no ghost stories for you that have happened to me.

Now that I look at that series about how the devil solves crimes which for me is the craziest and most original concept, it's very strange because I never imagined that that series was about crimes, I thought it was going to be like "Chilling Adventures of Sabrina" which is more about the problems of witches and not so much about problems in everyday life as a crime.

 According to history, it is said that seduced by his own pride, he dragged a great part of the angels that worshipped God, causing a rebellion whose ultimate consequences are the existence of pain, evil, and death in the world, that is why Lucifer is considered since then as the ideologue of evil.

When I hear these stories about the devil, angels, demons, and god I really wish they were true. I'm not sure if there is a god or the devil, heaven or hell, nothing has ever happened to me that makes me believe that it exists, however, I do not rule out the possibility. 

Something that I find very controversial is the fact that some people blame everything on God when it's credit like "thank God" I don't give a shit because you can give thanks to a piece of paper if you want, but when it's a guilt I hate it, I hate it when people don't take responsibility for their actions.

i really believe more in the human conspiracy than in god's will, the same with opportunities and success, i believe that everything is built by you and only you, everything good or bad that happens or will happen to you is because of you and it' s one hundred percent your fault.

I believe that the only evil that exists is the human being, the selfishness that was born from an attempt at survival.

and now some strange questions that I asked myself when I was watching the series before saying the questions I want to say that my answers do not mean that they are 100 real 

the first is would you date the devil?

My answer is yes why not, I think it would be something different and interesting all the same depending on what is true or not. Because in the series sometimes this character appears as good and other times as bad.

second question

In the series I looked at selling souls and how one woman sold it to become thinner. Would you sell your soul? What would you ask for?

 Depending on the matter of the existence of the souls and how my life conditions are and also benefits and disadvantages but I really don't know, I don't know what is my biggest wish, I don't know what I want more in life, I don't consider anything important and at the same time I consider everything important. 

Many people ask for money but even if I don't have it doesn't matter because I know that hard work can give me the life that I want a simple and normal life, I don't want to be rich but if I became I wouldn't complain, other people live forever, dude I don't want to live forever and it's not because of watching everyone die and that, the reason is because at some point nothing impresses me and it would end up being a punishment to live forever boring and miserable.

My third question is

If you could choose between being an angel (I open space for specifications, the devil counts as an angel) or being a demon, what would you be?

If demons are like in the Lucifer series I would like to be a demon and punish the bad guys, being an angel would be boring.

Fourth question

If you could choose where you would go to hell or heaven?

I find the glory and eternal joy a bit boring but I find hell interesting, I'd like to know what I'm most afraid of, really if hell exists I don't think I'm going, I don't think I've done anything too bad to deserve eternal condemnation, although there are many things that don't make sense about what's right or wrong, like drinking alcohol which is a sin, not going to church on Sundays and stuff like that. For me the real sins are like killing, maybe manipulating, hurting children, stealing and those things.

I feel like I'm not a bad person but I'm not like super good worthy of heaven either, but I would like to go to hell I don't know why but I don't know if being the person who is being punished, I don't know maybe being an average person can help me choose where I want to be even if it's boring.

I think that the fact of just disappearing is better since eternity is a long time, that's why I like the story of Disney more, you don't last long but you don't last forever either.

But even if I could decide I would like to help bad people make sure they stay in a place like this, that's why I don't feel that hell is so bad, it gives bad people what they deserve and the devil is only the jailer.

But I don't know if it exists or not, it's just a crazy theory.

Watching this really crazy series I contradicted myself many times because if the devil came out of hell why the hell was he helping the police? playing at being a cop, but maybe if you're the devil and you've seen everything you dude why not? it's something different and completely unexpected.

Talking about the production of this series I loved the special effects like the wings, the editing work is amazing, I think it really looks realistic also the fantastic martial arts work, a clean job and this is said by someone who has no previous knowledge of anything and is exactly the audience that wants to catch the show.

But this series is produced by warner bros and the effects are just what you would expect because they produced harry potter, dc comics series, rick, and Morty that means great quality.

I would really like to work with Warner Bros someday but I don't have any skills or talent to work in that company but maybe someday, I don't lose hope, I can do a little something in that company.

I'm not a series person, I don't like long series but I really enjoyed this series absolutely everything because it is something different, besides it made me cry I'm not going to make spoilers but one of the last episodes of the third season I want to say that I cried like a baby and just a good update that makes me believe that it is really happening, a good script and good direction can make me cry and that is something that very rarely happens.

And I'm deeply grateful for that because it's been a long time since I've cried over something silly, it's nice and I'm grateful because we can't all do it.

Also, because the concept that God and the Devil have nothing to do with the decisions we make, I like it very much, just as the real danger is the human being. 

Also I stayed in suspense the sixth season of Lucifer comes out in February according to the internet because the first thing I did after seeing this series was to find all the actors in instagram and follow them and also when the sixth season comes out and I have to wait almost 6 months but it's okay I can with this, it's worth it. It tastes better a season like this.

I also really liked the character of Eva because I understood her and the actress is beautiful, unrequited love sucks, especially when it is sincere. But life sucks.

To finish this episode I want to say that I liked the series of Lucifer, I think it's worth watching and I think it's a series to do things and I mean you can do as your task and put it in the background, paint, write, do some crafts, cooking and stuff like that because you don't need to put 100 percent of your attention to it to understand it all the time and I think that's how great you can do two things at once and you're going to enjoy it, each episode has a little teaching, not everything is about one problem because in some series when it's only a problem and that one is solved it gets boring and in this one it doesn't, 

Also leaving the series aside I want to say that maybe life is simpler than we would like and more boring but make sure you enjoy it, do good things so you can decide if you want to go to hell or to heaven and I also wonder if there is anyone who does not want to go to heaven and has had the opportunity and has not wanted, because I do not know, I find it interesting, but well I hope you have a beautiful day, warner bros if anyone hears this I want to say that I am 100 percent available and I can leave my life to give my best and work with you. For my part it is all hugs and kisses goodbye.

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[stephencavitt]

Walking in Both Worlds

In which I reflect on my debts to Western culture and world traditions...and why I don’t call myself Stephen Spotted Eagle on my business card

The Western world is in a jam. For a couple thousand years, it was sure of itself. It created hospitals, philosophy, democracy, international trade, vaccines, and space exploration. It made life manageable for most people in certain countries, easy for a handful, and rough for people on the fringes. 

Then something happened. Maybe it’s that life was finally manageable for the upper and middle classes. People--and here I mean mostly white people but also people of color with enough money and standing--had time to think. They had time to read. They brushed up against some of the ways that were dying out--rain forest communities, indigenous customs, Appalachian music--and some of these people, the ones not too busy working three jobs, said, Wait a minute. Maybe we don’t have all the puzzle pieces. 

So then we had the 60s and the 70s. World music was cool. Indigenous stuff was in. India was the snap. Organic gardening went big. If you weren’t a Jesus freak, you should probably know about your past lives. Women and people of color started demanding to be treated as, you know, people. 

All good so far. But then Standford stopped teaching Western Civ to most of its students, arguing that it was not diverse enough, and my Facebook friends started posting memes about how jungle tribes have it all figured out and we should all go live in the woods. (Ironically, they are posting from computers developed by American dudes on an Internet developed by the military in homes with icy air conditioning and refrigerators, and I don’t think they want to give them up.)

From within Western culture came a backlash against Western culture. We ended up with a healing arts world in which dudes who grew up in the suburbs call themselves Walks with a Bear’s Heart or Star Dreamer or whatever name their Indian guru gave them. We ended up with yoga classes where we are told to “think with our hearts” instead of our brains--as if the finely-tuned brain that is the source of most of our identity issues isn’t also the brain that helped our ancestors harness fire, and build ships, and tame freaking wolves. We ended up with idealistic young people who know what they want to bring in without knowing what they already have.

It’s not the critique of Western or American culture that bothers me. And it’s not the adopting of things that work--which is a better term than cultural appropriation, if done correctly--that makes me nervous. I am indebted to my friends and mentors in native traditions and Chinese medicine. It’s the disavowal of Western culture that worries me, the surrender of the long tradition of critical thinking and democracy that formed Western identity until, say, the Kardashians. 

It’s the forgetting--by people who are seeking a robust, well-rounded, happy life--that each culture brings something to the table, even their own. It’s the idea that we can just take off one identity like a jumpsuit and put on another. I prefer to think of ongoing development like patching a tile floor or a stone wall--you don’t tear it all up; you just fix the broken parts. And along the way, you try not to make yourself look too silly or talk to the people at the Piggly Wiggly about chakras. 

I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I grew up Southern--I had a rebel flag under the gemstone in my class ring before I came to my senses--in a little Baptist church my grandfather built by hand. I grew up reading Westerns and the Bible and biographies and histories of the tribes. I took up cross cultural shamanism and energetic bodywork and drum therapy because I had to: I was sick, and I wanted to get better. I kept doing it because it helped other people get better, and because who I am in the healing room--compassionate, aware, tuned into something More--is who I want to be. 

I still teach Socrates, who promoted deep inquiry through open ended questions. I teach Marcus Aurelius, whose definition of meditation was not clearing the mind but focusing it like a microscope on the self and its flaws. I write (both nonfiction and creative pieces) because it brings together my imagination and feelings and body sense and intellect, because it’s a putting together of puzzle pieces that nobody can do in quite the same way I can. 

I also do some weird stuff. I help people find power animals, and then they often start seeing those animals in the backyard, or in their dreams, or on billboards or artwork. The animals reach out. I do soul retrievals, in which a part of a person that (s)he lost touch with comes home, bringing a vitality that has been missing. I often see glimpses of past lives and the way they ripple forward, creating the same old stories, the same old pain; when I work with someone, I work on those past lives as well as the right now. It’s like a value-added karma thing. I want everyone to go Home with a good story to tell.

But unlike some of my peers, I don’t think the two ways cancel each other out. They are often incompatible in the same minute--if I’m working in an “American” job, juggling emails, I have to remember to breathe. If I’m in the healing room, I’m focused on the client’s needs and not thinking about mathematics. But they fit in the same life.

I’d like to see Western healers start calling themselves John or Kahlil or whatever their mommas called them. I’d like to make the healing arts as normal as Nascar. I’d like to make a space where you don’t have to believe in “all that hippy stuff” to get the benefit of it. I don’t want to live in a hut in the jungle with no doctors, or prisons, or therapists, as the memes suggest. I just want a house with solar electricity and recycling bins--and an overhaul of the justice system, K-12 education, prisons, and campaign finance.

If you’re looking for some help along the way, or thinking about joining us to build a hand drum at this summer’s workshops, expect somebody who rides four wheelers and likes hamburgers and built his life on the words of John Steinbeck as much as the Tao te Ching. I’ll be glad to join you in a space that is set apart but that supports what you do the rest of the time.

Find me on Facebook--click follow to get notifications, because FB’s system keeps you from seeing most things--or on the web.  You’ll be glad you did.