Deep Thought

I recently let slip that my view of the pro-freedom community as “family” had started to change. I hesitate to say more at this point, because my thinking is still in process, but other conversations here have started to weave a tapestry into which I feel somewhat comfortable with thinking out loud. And I’ve no doubt that sharing my half-spun, somewhat woolly threads will allow further exploration, to all our benefit.

Before we slip into the garden glade, I want to make it clear that this line of thinking was not my original idea: a cherished friend dropped the idea-seed into my mind, and it’s been working in there ever since. It’s my understanding that my friend prefers a measure of anonymity, so I shan’t be pointing to direct sources of this individual’s ... besides, the seed came in private conversation. Anyway, my mystery friend deserves all the credit for the idea, and I will take all the responsibility for my usual bumbling, rambling presentation of it.

Wendy McElroy writes "An aspect of the free market -- the real free market, sans government, not the wretched State capitalism of today -- that receives scant attention from libertarians is the vital role played by activist consumers and consumer advocacy groups. They are part of the feedback mechanism that makes the marketplace function well. Just as unions ((again sans government) act as a brake on bad labor practices ..." Stephan Kinsella says that corporations are valid entities, and that the problem is really the legal structure, i.e. the state.

Relationships are ever-shifting things, and although I think most adults know this it can still come as a surprise when a relationship that was considered steady comes undone.

Part of my recent bout of quietness here stems from various relationships being in a fairly obvious state of flux. Some of those changes are obviously to the good; others aren’t, and a couple others are being deliberately tended, to see how they might grow. An online acquaintance from some years ago has recently popped back into my life, and in so doing has got my brain buzzing with ideas and contexts I’ve not considered much, if at all. A major theme in our explorations is relationships. I expect to say much more on that here as the conversations spool out, but for now I’ll toss out this little thought–grenade: he is, without deliberately trying to (so it appears to me), slowly persuading me that the family metaphor is not the best one for the pro-freedom community. Sorry, Kirsten.

Over the years I've been asked thousands of times how to decide what to give elderly people for birthdays, holidays and especially Christmas. As a nurse, I had close contact with thousands of elderly people, and most of them received lots of junk they could not use and which was basically meaningless. They don't need more "things." They have all the bath soap, dusting powder, perfume, naughty nighties and socks they would need for another 50 years. This is especially true of the gentlemen.

So, here are some suggestions:

“A person’s a person, no matter how small,” wrote Dr. Seuss many years ago. And while there is truth in that observation, it is just as observably true that in aggregate, children are fairly different from adults in aggregate. (And of course, taken individually, each child is unique, just as adults are.) The important question, it seems to me, is “How are children different?”, because I think how one treats a child may stem from how one answers that question.

It seems to me that a general answer probably leans toward one of two positions:
1). Children are quantitatively different from adults—meaning they lack a great deal of skill and experience at living, and so, as they mature and have more experiences (and are allowed/encouraged to learn from them) they gradually become more like adults; and
2). Children are qualitatively different from adults. Neurological–developmental research has revealed that the human brain undergoes at least two significant growth spurts—one just after birth, and the second during adolescence. Perhaps even more importantly, the second growth spurt is not merely an adding of neurons and neural connections; it is a refinement of pathways, culling those that have not been used and strengthening ones used frequently. So, in a very real sense, a child’s brain is fairly different from a grownup’s brain.

Which is the more important aspect in responding to a child, in helping it grow and mature? I don’t know that they can be teased apart, only in part because of the confounding variable of time that is required by both processes; experience is also a crucial element in neural development, as many, many animal and human studies have demonstrated. But it seems to me that, if more individuals knew of that second growth spurt, and grokked what it implies (I’m not sure I fully do, for the record), the way children are approached and depicted in our culture would change dramatically.

Or maybe my brain is just rambling incoherently, trying to avoid the impending immersion into the chaotic world of finance and economics.

Okay, so lemme see if I can get this blog thingie off the ground... Grunt grunt groan push ...

You remember when you would replace all of that great alcohol that you stole from your parents' liquor bottles with water, carefully marking the side of the bottle first, so as to remember how much it took you to get wasted? Well, I don't either because I never could stand alcohol until I turned about 40 or so, and my parents didn't smoke pot, so I had to... well, I'm getting off track here.

In thinking about the recent discussions on hierarchy, some ideas from another discussion came to me and it seemed this might be a good place to explore them.

Disclaimer: I am not, in any way, suggesting that racism or the rest is good or healthy. Please remember that.

The question is, however, what is the moral response to expressions of these things? Many times the response is violent or hateful in return, creating the politically correct nightmare.

If we have any "right" or claim to life, liberty and property, how can we not have equal claim to our own thoughts and actions?

Okay, now that the unexpected excursion to Weirdsville is over, perhaps those of us interested in the issues that were raised in that post can consider and discuss the subject without distractions and personal attacks.

I have work to do. But I’m waiting. It’s been overcast and rainy, and my solar panels have not kept up with my time on the computer, so now I need to give them the time they need to catch up with me. I sit. I’m reading a beautiful book, a memorial to John Lennon. (Imagine!) I glance out the window and admire the stark beauty of the thunderheads building against the rich blue background of high desert sky. Time is money, I think. And then some other part of my brain pipes up and says, “WHAT???” I sit up a bit straighter and try and figure out what just happened.

I have at my hands a bit of reality. The sky is beautiful; it’s quiet. There was a small herd of elk grazing outside my window last night that blew me away. Three mothers and two children; the mothers grazed while the children settled themselves down to rest in the tall grass. After a bit, they moved on. Time is Money. “What?”

What is time, to the elk? Last week I happened across the statement, “There will never be a time when it is not now.” Hugh Prather wrote that. I have no idea who Hugh Prather is, but he has changed my world in some way. Time. Clouds. Elk. Waiting for my solar power. It just is. It is what it is. Time is Money. What?

What can that mean? Time going by is an expense? But all I have is time. There is nothing else. When my time stops there can be no debt, for there will be no more time. Can debt exist in nothingness? No, of course not.

I glance outside as I notice the sky darkening. There goes my solar power, I recognize. Has time changed? Time is money. The clouds pass and I get more solar. Has time sped up? Maybe I need to consult with Einstein on this one. Does elk time speed up when the sun is shining and slow down when clouds intervene? I look outside. Yep, there it is, the world around me, just being. Everything is just as it should be. I hear a rifle crack. It’s elk season.

In St. Paul, at the Republican convention, the riot police were herding people into cages. It’s ... “people” season? They’ve decided. They’ve decided who will be allowed to express his or her opinion, and who will be herded into cages. It’s the democratic way. Time is Money.

What IS money? It’s time. (t=m m=t)

The only way that I can figure time is money is if money is the measure of my life. The clouds pass overhead and I must stop and allow my batteries to rest, I can’t get done what I need to do to “make the money” I need to pay the taxes which are coming due. Time is Money. Taxes are due. Taxes are due regardless of the clouds. Taxes are due until the rifle crack ends time for this elk. Time is Money. Time is Life. So... Money is Life. Life is Money. ... Ah, there we have it. Money is life. I’m a commodity! Cool! I get it now.

Okay, so what we have here is that my life has a certain tax value. I must spew out taxes at a given rate, minimum. Otherwise I’m of no value. I’m a cash cow. Without my taxes the democratic machine will starve. We can’t have that. Democracy minus Money equals ...? What, freedom? Democracy minus Money equals no one to put people in cages for desiring to speak their opinions.

But I’m not spewing money, I’m sitting here while the sun and the clouds tease my solar panels. While I contemplate the elk and John Lennon (Imagine!) and revere the essence of simply being. I am not a cash cow. I’m an elk. I am. That is all. I don’t need any reason, I just am. My time is not money, my time is love. My time is life, the will to create each day and make it worth the gift of just being. I don’t owe you. You can’t take me. If you take me you have a shell, you don’t have my life. Life is a gift, and by definition, a gift can’t be taken, it can only be given.

Life is. Love is. There are no taxes due. Treasure yourself as the very special gift you are. Be not the gruel in another’s bowl, be the sun that warms his skin and charges his solar panels.

I am. That is all.

That is plenty. No taxes due.

I bid you peace and love and the warmth of the sun.

_______
By NonEntity.

Over at Check Your Premises, Francois Tremblay has finally completed his two-part essay on love. For convenience, here’s part one; and here’s part two.

Sunni posted A Request for Mama Liberty. I cannot respond to the request, but will respond to the insinuation (made by a visitor) "that in accepting any religion, one becomes subservient to its god(s), and thereby sets up a contradiction with being truly free."