Let’s play war. First, we need loyal soldiers. Recruitment is simple thanks to the tools of persuasion. These tools can be applied in a number of flavors from religion to race or gender. I’ve included a simple tool to generate a recruitment poster based on the method you selected. If you have chosen a religious theme distribute your posters by the oak tree at church. The social justice posters would be more effective by the flagpole at school.
Our new infantry has mustered here on this cold foggy morning to spill blood over your brain’s gentle creases. These forces are fighting for control of a rebel force hidden deep inside you. This force is pagan and primal. The intuition. It’s your gut peeled free from logic. It has no leader to parlay. The only way to control this force is to convince your pagan core it is broken. As free men, we are the custodian of our intuition. Many are persuaded to hand over these responsibilities to an external shepard. They coat-check their power believing a dark force is slumbering inside.
These armies subdue the intuition with the same battle plan. Shame can be applied emotionally i.e. you are a racist, or spiritually, i.e. you are a sinner. This blueprint is shown in the recruiting posters above. There are three beliefs necessary to control a target:
- Target was born broken
- Target cannot fix themselves
- There is offered salvation by recruiting others
These armies are injecting an ideology that is only successful when it results in inner abandonment. They successfully attach to us when we submit to an external authority for guidance. This implant shorts out the already subtle authority felt in one’s own core intuition. Both armies require and reward proselytization. Both armies use shame and self-doubt to control their followers.
Our entire lives these forces have suppressed our intuition by devaluing and shaming it with labels like “sinner” or “racist.” We convinced ourselves our inner nature is a dangerous primordial demon. We needed this fear to nudge forth a cohesive society. We tied our fingers to puppet strings as a process of cultural evolution. But beneath this lack of freedom we will always be hurting. Until our intuition comes forth and plays the drum freely, we remain slaves, open to the winds of suggestion. We are living in a rudderless psychological prison and we call it the rational mind.
This war in our mind is also fractal. The tribe outside our mind is tormented in the same way. Controls from religion and higher education attempt to subdue our tribal intuition in the same way and for the same reasons. These societal forces compete to be our mind’s captain. Before this mental serfdom we were naked in the forest. We dipped ourselves in stag blood because we felt an urge to change. These rituals birthed new identities that we pulled from deep inside us. We were rising from the power of our own mojo. We were climbing the totem of our individual life’s journey. Our identity was a fountain that kept bubbling up shouting “I AM!” We were explosive, imaginary, and ever-changing. We fucked in public. We policed ourselves with unabashed correction. Justice was brutal and subjective. The tribe was self-correcting every minute, day-after-day. Dissonance had yet to be discovered or invented. The tribe spoke clearly. The tribe forgave instantly. Hidden agendas were choked out of the group like voodoo. Politeness could be mistaken for deceit.
Something has always been there to beat your intuition into submission. The intuition can be subdued when it believes it would be better to abandon itself. This is the classic blueprint for all control dynamics. The voices we hear so loudly in our heads are these armies advancing and retreating. We go to church to enlist as a sinner. We go to college to enlist as a racist. We hoard the calories required for moral discernment by hanging our bridle on the judgments of our elders. We advertise in craigslist for society to take our reigns. We place the Shaman’s bit in our mouths because we are proud to be wanted. We believe our owner is magnanimous. We believe we are at our best when humble.
We said goodbye to the beast inside. That beautiful Chewbacca of hair and emotion is howling to the sky and he has never needed a reason. He’s calling you back to his forest moon. For many, life seems tasty behind the safety of glasses. We remain subdued and coddled by the armies of shame and the regiment of reason. So many noble soldiers chained by what they have been calling loyalty. They are starving for a chance to be wrong so they can choose another side.
This inner voice is a revolution in waiting.
Maybe you find yourself with one of these armies. Maybe you’ve caught yourself sabotaging your own side more than a few times. You’ve kept things to yourself while you process these feelings. One night while stirring, you reached under the pillow looking for a cool place to park your fingers. You discover a book titled “Manifesto for Independence.” The author’s name is your own. You smuggle this contraband to the bathroom outside your barracks. Camouflaged in the stall with your pants rolled around your ankles. Quietly, you crack open the tomb and start reading. Inside are words that unlock you. You start to believe them. You find yourself a spy in your very own mind.
It turns out that deep in your essence was a sort of sleeping prisoner. This Clockwork Orange Rambo was strapped to a barber chair for decades. Eyelids were gagged open by cold stainless pinchers. A display of unwavering resistance in the face of a giant speaker that kept screaming, “you are broken!” Again and again, year after year, and somehow, this mutant freak unhinged itself and crawled out of the cave.
And here you are panting. A fugitive from prison. You are atrophy and hunger. The raw truth of the sun is a blinding comet. Feeling the shivery withdrawals from obligation’s cold turkey. Your gut keeps revolting with chants of “We can’t be trusted!” You hear your friends and family calling you back with “Have a seat,” and “Take a break.” You remember how the system uses faith and loyalty to keep you.
Society hides your own body’s power in words like “placebo”
You have just killed your master. In his blood you introduce yourself to the inner reflection. You are a rōnin in the empire of mind. Your life is a papyrus bearing the calligraphy of time and decision. Each character falling from your pen comes from the ink of your body’s freedom. You are the painter of your self’s definition. As the world spills open from Milky Way’s sparkle, you must rise up to claim that you lived here outside of the cave.