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Culture War Roundup for the week of January 2, 2023

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The usual stuff - caffeine to satisfy the addiction and as a ritual or habit, music suitable to whatever I'm doing both to put my mind on the right track and to drown out ambient distractions, social alcohol. So far, nothing special. Presumably more uniquely, I have my little regular nonreligious prayers of thanksgiving to my benefactors, but that's fairly minor in terms of effect.

My strongest mood modifier is something that probably goes the opposite way of yours. You worry about losing track of the world for all the modifications you make to your perception of it. The strongest tool in my cabinet has the opposite effect.

I go outside, often without even telling anyone so as to not contaminate my foray with anybody's expectations or ideas. I walk or bike off into the countryside, as directly away from civilization as is possible in between all the sprawling tendrils of settlement of industry. I keep going until I'm physically exhausted and then I look for a quiet place. Then I lie down, and am alone with the world. The ground, the sky, the trees and rocks the wind and maybe the river. Maybe some distant lights of wind power plants. Usually birds of prey circling overhead. It no longer matters what came before or what will come after. There I am, but that too does not matter. I might die right then and there and that's fine. The hills, the water, the air, the sun, the stars, all those predate me and will postdate me anyways. I stay there until I'm rested or I begin to grow cold, then make my way back into the lesser human world of constant distractions and transient details. Does it matter whether I'm caffeinated or drunk or sober there? That place itself doesn't matter much. There's a giant sphere of rock and iron below me and an infinite wasteland of blue and night and light above, and anything in between is small and will be gone in a moment.

The Penfield Mood Organ probably has a number and a name for this. Cosmic irrelevance? Whatever it is, I like to dial it.

God dont lie.

No, said the judge. He does not. And these are his words.

He held up a chunk of rock.

He speaks in stones and trees, the bones of things.