Life among the colonized.

Some call them ‘normies’, but I much prefer ‘colonized’. Minds occupied by scripts installed by advertising, algorithms, influencers and a soul robbing, entertainment/newstainment industry, even schools play their part, even a shocking segment of bestselling ‘self-help’ books, even fiction books reinforce the script. All these factors, and others, fragment a person’s inner voice. When exposed 24/7 to this numbing carousel and with no authenticity preserving buffer formed through quality input from parents or others in childhood that inner voice crumbles entirely and maybe even permanently. 

That means that I run into people who:

  • dream of extracting value from the economy without any thought of what kind of value they could provide to people. Their attitude to making money is purely predatory and simplistic 
  • will not learn anything that does not immediately seem to offer a path to more money, status or comfort-pleasure 
  • are a copy of a copy of a copy, as if they are literally run off the mill entities 
  • are walking advertisements for whatever life-style the ‘cycle money upwards machine’ has prescribed 
  • have no idea what am even trying to say in this post and who didn’t even see words if the text was put in front of them. None of the words in this text create any dopamine in their system, so it’s like they don’t even exist  
  • who feel contempt and pity for you if you care about children torn apart by bombs ‘far’ away 
  • who don’t understand why I really find any marvel movie nauseating, boring and utterly thrilless 
  • who reduce life to some plan to make more money, some fantasy fitness goals, their next holiday (which always disappoints them, but still they invest in the next expensive trip) 
  • who treat food as kneeling in a temple in front of the Gods expecting to experience mystical euphoria
  • who beyond clichés treat sexuality as taboo, usually because they are incapable of surrender, which great sex requires. Meaning: the masks they wear don’t even come off anymore in the bedroom 
  • who get excited over mass events around sports or some highly produced concert because their every day lives are so stale and repetitive, rooting for athletes is the closest they get to burning for a mission bigger than themselves 
  • cars, houses, clothes, gadgets, cool destinations, trendy food are the holy objects of the day 
  • thought that does not lead to a bit more money, a more fashionable kitchen floor is a ridiculous waste of time

Their environment made it clear to them what matters and what doesn’t matter. With nobody they respect or admire or are attached to telling them other things, requiring inner depth, requiring painful, slow study to appreciate, they can never escape. 

The inexplicable pain, feelings of dread, vague notions of ‘there must be more’ only surface when they are forced to sit with their thoughts. 

The worst these people ever report are moments when they had nothing to do and couldn’t distract themselves. 

If life is sacred and the unfolding story of humanity carries deep meaning for you then boredom is nearly impossible. There’s always more to discover. Hours can pass happily even with a children’s book just as well as with an old series from the 1980s or A hero of our time by Lermontov or a biography of some medieval king, because you are still capable of awe and wonder. 

That’s why it also hurts you personally on the most direct level when people you have never met and will never meet are plunged into catastrophes that serve the current power structure. 

If you obsessed over the best facial cream or vitamin D supplement you wouldn’t have the bandwidth either. 

You and me, we are islands. 

So besieged by this culture of flashy looking deadness that sadly we often don’t even try to build bridges to each other, but instead mourn what never was.