On anarchism, and everything

This is my take on anarchism.
I had a lot of thoughts on anarchism, the kind of culmination of how “anarchism” relates to my personal/philosophical/emotional thinking and why they’re all the same. I collected scattered thought fragments, wrote a short-hand list of notes, sent them to my friend Mihai, he said they made no sense, so then I went back through and tried to fill in the muscles between the bones, so-to-speak.
This is my as-it-happens thought process on all of this stuff, and nothing more.

This is not about political or economic policy, this is about philosophy. Maybe I’ll write a how-to guide for how to get there, but for now, this is simply the logic behind my philosophical conclusions (if you can call them that.)

Update: I have written a how-to guide.
It goes like this: I feel cold.

We’ll come back to this later.

Everything is, ultimately, a choice. Having a choice does not mean all options are desirable.
Desire is tension between how things are and how things could be.
Everything already is as it could be. That is to say, it is as it is. If it could have been anything different in that moment, it would not have been what it was.

Let’s say, you feel like shit. You’d rather not feel like shit.
Honey, the only way out of a feeling is through it.

Think of loving someone you don’t want to love. The harder you try not to be, the more in love you find yourself.
Trying not to feel something is like using a shovel to climb out of a hole.
You just dig yourself deeper.

It’s when you look at the shovel in your hands and choose to dig that you see where the hole goes.
And so often, it leads to the very surface you were trying to get to. But you will never find that surface if you do anything other than dig. Than feel as hard as you can that which you are afraid to feel.

My biggest fear is that there is nothing I can do.
That “it is out of my hands.” That I cannot do anything to change or stop or start or fix or create or destroy.

My greatest challenge is in realizing it is in someone else’s hands too. In trusting those hands. In trusting other people, not to do what I want, but to do what they want, and that what we want will be in harmony, even if it doesn’t look like it to me right away.

That in simply being, doing whatever it is that I do, that controlling nothing other than myself, is the only way the world will ever look the way I want it to, because THAT is what I want the world to look like.
That is my anarchist utopia.

What an economic policy does to you is none of my business.
What it does to me is absolutely my business.
What it does to you is absolutely your business.

Emotional responsibility and anarchism, they’re not different.
Like mind and body and spirit, like self and society, it’s all the same shit.
And the very problem we’re trying to fix in one or the other is the drawing of the line between the two in the first place. It is not that you should never draw the line. It is not that you should do anything. It is realizing that the line is drawn, and choosing where to draw it.

Everything is a choice.

There are ways to frame the space in which the choosing happens to allow more desirable options for all involved (e.g. maximizing freedom).

Keep in mind, that “space” is nothing but yourself. You cannot force the maximization of someone else’s freedom.
I’ll repeat that: You cannot force the maximization of someone else’s freedom.

You cannot force freedom. You can only allow it. In yourself. In others. If in your mind, it has to look ANY particular way, it is not freedom.
Freedom is a lack of force and that which emerges when not forced.
You cannot force freedom. It just happens. It can only ever be allowed.
So what does it mean to allow?

Think of the word “consent.” I like it, because it feels active.
I not only allow a thing to happen, I consent to it. I choose.
I consent means I have chosen to allow.

I am aware of my choice. I am aware of my freedom. I am allowing my freedom to manifest in allowing this to happen.
Everything is a choice. Even that which happens on its own.

The choice to allow is the most paradoxical of actions. It is acting in nonacting. It is giving up the reins wholly to yourself. It is trusting yourself so much with yourself that you do not need to trust anyone else with yourself. It is trusting them with themselves.

What happens when they cannot be trusted?
Let’s break that down.

Can they ever not be?

When you’ve already established that you are not trusting them with yourself, you are trusting them with themselves, there is no inequality of power.
Power inequalities are chosen.
Everything is always a choice – that does not mean every option sounds desirable.
Do I go left or right?
Do I die or live?
Desire for one over the other is the ultimate limit on freedom.
Desire is the power inequality.
If freedom is a limit on choice, how do you maximize freedom?
You allow it to emerge.
You choose to dig the hole.
You choose to feel however it is that you feel in that moment.

What’s that song that goes “It’s not having what you want, it’s wanting what you’ve got”?
This is the most misinterpreted sentence I have ever come across, at least in my own mind.
And emotional responsibility changes it completely.
It is not about wanting poverty. It is not about wanting oppression. It is not about wanting the object of your affections to not love you back.
It is about wanting yourself in those circumstances.
It is about wanting how you feel in those circumstances.
It is in not taking on anything other than your own feeling.
When the epic night out does not go as planned, it is not about forcing yourself to be happy with the tired subway ride home.

It is about feeling shit about it. It is about wanting to feel shit. Allowing yourself to feel shit. Expecting nothing more or less from yourself than exactly what it is you feel.
Because what you’ve got is never the subway ride or the night out. What you’ve got is yourself in those situations.
And the only question you can answer is: Do I feel satisfied?

What a miraculous gift of the universe that eating when you’re hungry never stops being satisfying.
That pooping when you really need to poop never stops serving the need you have in that moment.
That falling in love never stops being falling in love.
What a fabulous joke of the universe that things you feel change.
Trying to poop when you do not need to poop won’t satisfy the same need.
Eating when you’re full won’t satisfy hunger.
Holding on to the things you did while you were falling in love as if those things were themselves the act of falling in love…
We know, it does not work the same way.

The reason eating when you’re hungry is satisfying is because you are hungry.
If you do not have the need, the act of meeting the need will not satisfy.
Needs, feelings, it’s all the same shit.
I feel hungry. I am in a space of hunger. I have a need for food.

There are some needs where the thing needed to satisfy the need are obvious.
Hunger, food.
Thirst, water.
Cold, warmth.

And there are some where it is not so obvious:
Depression? Self-criticism? Judgment? Unacceptance? Insecurity?

I feel …..
I am in a space of …..
I need ….

What makes hunger easy is that hunger and food exist as points on a spectrum.
Food is food because hunger exists.
Without hunger, an orange is just an orange. With hunger, it is food.

Needs change our understanding of the character of a thing.
Our understanding of our needs changes everything.

When I feel a desire for Bob to love me back, what do I mean when I say this?
What do I really mean?

Do I want to have sex with Bob?
Do I want to have sex?
Do I want to have an orgasm? Are these needs Bob-dependent?
Do I want to feel wanted?
Do I want Bob to take me out to a fancy Italian restaurant?
Do I want to go to an Italian restaurant?
Do I want to eat dinner?
Am I hungry?
Do I want roses? Professions of love? Poetry?
Do I want to be held by someone?
Do I want to be held by Bob?
What is it about Bob?

Do I simply want to feel that greatest and most indescribable of natural feelings: love?
Does Bob not feeling it negate my ability to feel it?
Is it not something I can give freely?
If I detach love from everything that I have been told love looks like (sex, relationships, fancy Italian restaurants and roses), can I not give it freely to whomever I choose?
And why have I chosen Bob?

These are not Socratic-method style leading questions. They are not intended to guide you away from wanting Bob’s affections.
Okay, the one about detaching love from things we think love looks like, that’s a leading question. I admit that.
The rest are simply there to maybe help expand your understanding.

This all links back to anarchism and economic philosophy. Because it’s all the same shit.
I’m going to illuminate that linkage now, if it wasn’t clear already:

So, what is consent?
The choice to allow.
The space of active freedom.
Free choice. Not only choice, but choice freely made.
This has built within it the idea that coercion is not a part of consent, though it can be a part of choice.
Remember, emotional responsibility: Your feeling of coercion is your problem. Someone else’s desire to coerce you is not your problem.
Freedom is essential to consent, this includes the freedom to remove consent at any time for any reason.
You consent to the moment, for the moment, and you choose freely when that moment ends.
The other person knowing when you’ve removed consent is not your problem.
Saying that you’ve removed consent is your problem.

In its most simple form: Other people’s actions are not your problem.
Your actions are entirely your problem.
Other people’s actions touching you is your problem only in the sense of how you feel they touch you.
If you feel oppressed, if you feel abused, if you feel mistreated.

And this is not to say, you should not feel oppressed.
There is no should about it.
You feel how you feel.
The only way out is through.

And just as working your way out of the hole of falling in unrequited love is to actively dig, so too with oppression. It does not mean, make yourself more in love. It does not mean, make yourself more oppressed. It does not mean, seek out your oppression. It means, allow yourself to feel in love. Allow yourself to feel oppressed.
It does not mean, allow oppression.
It means: allow yourself to feel oppressed.

Jumping onwards: The idea of contract as consent.
I agree to X, you agree to X, we have consented.
It is hung up by two things: inflexibility, and inequality of power.
Thing one, Inflexibility: once X is agreed to, that agreement cannot be broken.
First, this is an illusion. It can always be broken. You can always stop agreeing to do X.
At any moment can you remove your consent to X.
That does not make the contract go away.
Therefore, contract and consent are not the same thing.

Thing two, inequality of power:
If I hold a gun to your head and say, Do you agree to have sex with me, and if you don’t, I’ll shoot you?
You still have a choice. You can still give consent.
But the texture of consent is kind of moot.
Your freedom is so severely limited by these options.

That is, if you have no desire for one over the other. Desire is what makes us choose. Without desire, we have no need to choose. We just allow.

Remember what I said about oppression? It is not in allowing oppression, it is in allowing yourself to feel oppressed.

It is not in actively wanting both Death and Sex with Scary Gun Man, it is in allowing yourself to feel your reactions to both.

Scary Gun Man is not your problem. Scary Gun Man’s emotions, motivations, needs, desires, are not your problem. The space between Scary Gun Man’s feelings and your feelings is the space we call action. What are your feelings? Why do you feel them?
And what are you going to do about them?

If you feel that this situation creates an inequality of power, if you feel a disempowered, then you are. In the same way that if you feel sadness, then you are sad.
If Scary Gun Man hands you a contract and has you sign it with a gun in his hand, is the contract the same as consent?
Or something.

Back to this idea of Inequality of Power:
Can a 6 year old consent to have sex with her teacher?
If I put a gun to your head and tell you to give me your lunch money and you say yes, did you still consent?
At some point, though there is always a choice, the inequality of power becomes great enough that we draw a line where we no longer call it choice. We no longer call it consent.
Instead of a gun, I’m holding the threat of eviction, of homelessness, of imprisonment, of starvation.
Is it still consent?

Back to economics:
Money is power. If it weren’t, we’d never seek it.
With more money, we have greater power to meet our needs for shelter. For food. For pleasure.
We are not seeking money, we are seeking the power to meet our needs.
We are not seeking power, we are seeking to have our needs met.
Like with love, so much of the pain from money comes from equating the thing (satisfaction of needs) with how we think the thing ought to look.
Money can buy me food.
Food can satisfy my hunger.
Money is not the satisfaction, it is the greater ease of obtaining the satisfaction.

If money increases or decreases power to meet a need, then an inequality of money can be an inequality of power. The point I originally meant to make here was that an inequality of money can negate the ability of a contract to be free consent.
Got it? Cool.
Let’s move on.

So inequality of money can also not be an inequality of power. Not everything in existence has the same perceived needs, and money cannot satisfy every need.

Hand a million dollars to a tree. Hand a million dollars to a dog. Hand a million dollars to a remote tribesman who has never once associated paper currency with the meeting of needs for food, shelter, water.
You get me. Not everyone values money the same way.

Something something… the next thing I have written is Murray Rothbard.

So Murray Rothbard wrote this book called Man, Economy and State. It’s big and long and I never finished it. I pretty much only read the first chapter or something. I think that’s what happens when you try to read manifestos on anarcho-capitalism when you’re 13, but I digress.

He starts the book with this idea: Governments are just people. They are individuals. We speak of the state, but there is no state. There’s just Trump or Theresa May and then there’s Paul Ryan or whoever. There are politicians, there is not politics. People, not “the establishment.”

Yes. True. People are just doing the things that people do. They are feeling their feelings and needing their needs and trying to satisfy those needs the best way they think they can. Like, Donald Trump is doing his best. He is. He is doing what he thinks is best to the best of his perception of his own ability. That’s a hard one for me to stomach.

But then there’s this implication that the state being full of individuals means there is not a state. That is like saying, there is not poverty. There is not happiness.

In a sense, this is true. There is not happiness, only the feeling of it. There is not poverty, there are only the feelings produced by having less access to the stuff that meets your needs.

Hmm. Okay. So like, there’s this State business. Or, more broadly, there are “systems.”
Things at work that are expressed through individual behavior.
Think of them as patterns.
Like equilibria of populations in an ecosystem. Each bird in the tropical whatever does not wake up in the morning and consciously choose to eat the rodent or whatever. But the system of life still exists. It does not exist in the same way the bird’s hunger exists.
It exists in the sense that gravity exists.
It is a force: a pattern that shapes behavior.
A space between things.
It cannot be caught and pinned down and touched and stepped on like a planet can, but it can be felt and can shape behavior the way gravity can.
Equating individual and system, or politician and state, is like equating Earth with its path around the sun.
Just, how in the world is that helpful?

Drawing a distinction between the two, yes. But saying that the one does not exist because the other does? That because government is made up of people sitting in Parliament means there is no such thing as “government”?
Just. Why?

A system, then, is a pattern of behavior. It is a pattern so strong that it goes on to shape behavior.

Laws, rules, religious doctrines, are codifications of “acceptable behavior” drawn from individuals’ interpretations of this pattern.
They’re quite possibly the most ridiculous thing in the universe.

I believe in God. God says X. I hear that as X. I tell you, X. I tell you, you have to X. You say, Why should I X? You say, because God says X.
You say, What God? How do you know God says this? How do you know that just because you perceive God as saying this, this is the way it should be?

Replace the word God with “Government.”
Now replace God with “the Market.”

When it becomes doctrine, it becomes ludicrous.

I’m not sure if this is making sense anymore, but maybe if I keep writing it will.

The next thing I had written down was Raoul Martinez. He wrote this book I haven’t read yet called Creating Freedom. I watched his TED talk, and it’s basically about determinism.
You are a product of your biology and conditioning, every response you conceive of as free or choice is a product of how biology and conditioning have shaped you. Etc.

He draws it to the conclusion of “let’s not worry about punishing behavior, let’s focus on changing conditioning mechanisms.”

Yay. Go Raoul. I’m with ya.

So back to Systems. A System then is a pattern of behavior that goes on to shape behavior.
If behavior is a product of conditioning, the change the con

Treating a system as a thing of wholly a different character, a different kind of existence, than individuals.
Like matter and forces. People and systems. There is a strange inequality of power between matter and force. Matter does not choose to be acted upon by a force. It just exists. And also, the force cannot be expressed without matter. If there were no matter, how would we know there was a force?

Society. Government. State. The way in which people come together and their behavior shapes each other’s behavior. When we create the System, we codify the method of shaping. With law, with doctrine, with rules. We not only say This Force exists, we say, You must follow it in this way. It is making a relationship rigid. Declaring a relationship to be a thing, and declaring how your relationship to the thing must change how you act.
It is saying, “This is what your behavior must look like, and you are not allowed to choose otherwise.”

That is all government is. Ludicrous indeed.

Now replace the idea of “government” with “the market.”

This is what the market looks like. This is what a free market is. This is how it is supposed to look: in the exchange of money. In massive inequalities of money. In money being linked directly to satisfaction of needs. In contract that cannot be broken when consent is removed. In people existing in a space where they feel they have no power and being told to negotiate as an equal.
Even the idea of the Market makes rigid a relationship.

The Market is a codification. It is saying a relationship, which exists, can only exist in a particular form.

Yes, market in the vaguest sense exists. Exchange of goods and services. Or, even more basic, exchange of assistance in satisfying personal needs.

But The Market. Money. Capitalism. Even the –ism of it. This is a system. This is how it looks. This is how you must behave in it.
How is this any less ludicrous? How can this possibly be in harmony with freedom?

And without freedom, what the fuck is the point of anarchism?

For a free market to ever be truly free, its definitions of value have to be open to change. Simply put, they cannot be ‘defined.’ What has value to me may have no value to you.

The ‘libertarian’ response would be: then don’t buy the thing.

Okay, let’s work with that: Don’t buy the thing.
Where did I get money through which I could buy the thing?
Through labor. Mine or someone else’s. What is labor? Time, energy, effort.
So in saying, “don’t buy the thing,” you are saying “do not give time, energy, and effort towards the thing.”
Example: One hour on a wage makes you $10, and the pizza costs $10. So, ‘don’t buy the thing’ means ‘do not put that hour of labor towards the pizza.’
What if the thing I do not wish to buy is a job?
What if I do not wish to put my time, effort and energy into a company?
What if I would rather spend my time, effort and energy in painting?
Well, then, you can paint, but you cannot buy food.

We accept this as a natural law of capitalist society: if you don’t work, you don’t eat. If you don’t labor, you don’t live.

Remember we were talking about value.
When we say, “Do not buy what you do not value,” we say, “do not work for what you do not value.”
But what a rigid market does is define the paths between you and the things you value.
To eat the food you need, you must have money to buy it.
To have the money to buy it, you must sell your time, energy and effort to someone.
To sell your time, energy, and effort, someone must be willing to buy them.
And they are not buying your time, energy and effort just to have them – they are buying them for a specific purpose.
They are putting your time, energy and effort towards what they value.
And you cannot have what you value if they do not have what they value.
Through one lens, they can have what they value even if you do not have what you value. X depends on Y, but Y does not depend on X.
Then, there is a power inequality.
Then, there is not consent.
Then, there is not freedom.

Through another lens, this is not the case. I would say, this is the lens of “Rise up, proletarians, you have nothing to lose but your chains!”

The idea is, Bourgeois Bob feels hunger.
Bourgeois Bob needs food.
Bourgeois Bob needs money to buy food.
Bourgeois Bob makes money by selling cars.
Bourgeois Bob cannot sell cars without Proletarian Paul in the factory building the car parts.
Proletarian Paul cannot be in the factory building car parts if he is dead.
Proletarian Paul needs food in order to not die of starvation.

Thus, the power inequality does not exist. Bob needs Paul just as Paul needs Bob.

That is the great problem of Capitalism: it creates the feeling of a power inequality where there is none. It destroys freedom because it destroys the feeling of it.

Remember our example with consenting to sex with a gun to your head?
If you do not feel free, you are not free.
If you have a desire for one outcome over the other, there is a power inequality.

When the Market is felt to be dictating your desires more than it is responding to them, there is even a power inequality between you and the Market. To truly be free, the market has to be so responsive that it does not have a greater conditioning ability than it does ability to be conditioned. As in, it cannot dictate more than it responds.
Therefore, it cannot exist as a codified force. That is, a definition of a relationship that dictates the terms of that relationship.
The relationship still exists, between you and what you need, but when the Market stands in the way as dictating the only path or set of paths between you and what you need, it ceases to be a thing of freedom.
Because you cease to feel free in it.
And freedom is only ever a feeling.

So. How do we make the market free?

Freedom is a state of equilibrium between options. Fully free choice to go left or right. The problem with Equilibrium is that it doesn’t just happen: a pendulum held off to one side swings the other way before it reaches center. (You also can’t force it to the other side. You allow it to swing until it settles at the center.)

In terms of society and market, what I mean is this: You can’t wake up tomorrow and say “The market is now fully responsive to my shifting desires” and mean “Others’ desires are now fully responsive to my shifting desires.”
You can say “I control my relationship to the market and my desires.”
You cannot say, “I control Bob’s relationship to the market and his desires,” or “I control Bob’s relationship to my desires,” or even “Bob controls his relationship to the market and his desires.” Only Bob can say that.
And the funny thing about control is, when you feel like you’ve got it, you’ve got it.
When you feel free, you’re free.

You also cannot really say, “I now satisfy my needs in absolute freedom.” You can say, “I can now satisfy my needs in the feeling of absolute freedom,” but that is saying, “I feel equally content with starvation and death as I do with riches and comfort.”

That is freeing yourself from the Market. That is freeing yourself from desire, in a full Buddhist sense.

I ask, simply, is that your ideal of freedom? I do not ask this as a leading question, believe it or not. I am toying with the idea myself.

But what is freedom for all, then? It is for Bob and Joe and Mary and everyone to all be able to say “I control my relationship to this thing.” Be it the market, society, their emotions, each other.

In a sense, that control comes only from the feeling of control. That freedom comes only from the feeling of freedom. It can be unrelated to anything that acts upon it. It also can be entirely related to things that act upon it.

What I meant about the pendulum was, when the codification of the relationship feels stronger than the ability to say “I control the relationship,” it must first swing the other way. When you feel the Market controls your desires and actions more than you consciously choose its ability to control you.

This is where the smashy smashy comes in: the process of actively destroying institutionalized power structures and breaking down hierarchies.
This does NOT mean simply shifting who is in power and who isn’t. It means uprooting the existent power relationships, not exchanging those involved in the relationship.

It does not mean, I am President and CEO and Bourgeois Bob is not. It means, the President and CEO does not control me. It means, the power inequality does not exist. It means, the system has no more power over me than I do over it.

The act of destroying power dynamics is not about the proletariat having control over the bourgeoisie. It is about the active destruction of power inequality. It is about actively leveling the playing field and eliminating hierarchies.
Taxation? Active check on monopoly? Education? Revolution?

Remember how I said at the very beginning, this was a philosophy essay and not a how-to?
Remember how I said, I’ve figured out the how-to, and it is this: “I feel cold”?
Remember how I said, the only way out is through?

Bear with me, if you will.

I feel cold. I am not going to deny that I feel cold in order to feel warm.
I am going to first, fully accept and understand that what I am feeling is cold.
That it is okay to feel cold. I am sitting on a roof in the wind. I am not wearing a jacket. It makes sense that I feel cold in this situation.
Am I satisfied in my coldness? Do I have a need that is not being met?
I discover, am dissatisfied. I have a need that is not being met.
What do I need?
I need warmth.
Then I am going to do something to warm myself.
What can I do to warm myself?

Replace “cold” with “sad.” Replace “cold” with “lonely.” Replace “cold” with “oppressed.”

But how is this possibly a how-to guide for anarchist economic policy?

Like this:

Anarchism is that which emerges naturally without exterior direction or control.
I cannot tell you what it looks like.
That is the entire point.

As wholly unsatisfying as that may be, it is the only anarchist way of imagining anarchism
For me, it is in moments of chosen love. Of conscious rule-breaking, when I feel to, and rule-following, when I feel to. It is in having equal freedom to break the rule and obey it.

It is in choosing to want whatever it is I feel, and allowing myself to learn whatever that feeling teaches me in whatever way that happens.

I have studied politics and sociology and social economics and Marx and James C. Scott and Proudhon and Eco-villages and radical activism and the only thing I can say I learned was this: that freedom and love are natural. That they will out. That everything else is an effort to stop them.
That we only know what they will do with us when we are in them.

Here is when I have known anarchism:
Anarchism is intending to go to a Turkish restaurant and instead spending the evening running into Wimbledon Commons and howling like wolves and smoking a joint between the witching tree while talking about consciousness.
Anarchism is standing on the beach in California screaming about reincarnation when you thought you would be out for coffee.
Anarchism is spending a Saturday night in bed
Anarchism is living that no one else’s opinions are any of your business, and the way they affect you is wholly your business.
Anarchism is choosing to do what you fear.
Anarchism is taking the step into the mist.
It is accepting that you do not know what lies ahead. That you cannot predict. That you cannot decide where you or anyone else needs to go. It is not even knowing that your feet are on the ground. It is knowing that you feel the ground. It is knowing, in each moment, that you choose to step.

What I mean is: anarchism is being certain of nothing else than your own freedom. In feeling nothing other than your own feeling.

I cannot tell you where it will go, how society will look, whose ideas will be in power.
But I can tell you what power looks like: it is the feeling of the grass under your toes, not knowing if the grass is there. It is feeling your foot leave the earth, not knowing if there’s anywhere to land. It is feeling your foot fall again to the grass and saying: I have stepped.

Or, less poetically:
I only take responsibility for what I feel, and what I do about it.
I do not take responsibility for how you feel.
I trust you to take responsibility for how you feel.
I do not take responsibility for what you do.
I only take responsibility for how the things you do make me feel.
I am aware of my freedom to feel. I am aware of my freedom to choose.
And I choose how I respond.

That is my anarchist utopia.

Is it a utopia?
Well, by whose definition are you asking?

Is it anarchism?
How is it anything else?

Saying what it will look like, what it has to be in order for it to be anarchism? Isn’t that antithetical to anarchism?

Okay, so la la la, we have this society of everyone feeling free in mind. Now, how do we get there?

This is something I wrote the other day on activism:

My intention is to live my activism like the bubbling up of the water through a wall already cracked and collapsing into the sea. It is in the wall’s nature to collapse into the sea. It is the water that cracks it best, not the hammer.
The water may act as a hammer, the water may act as a stone, the water may settle and be still, and the wall is still collapsing. We are the collapsing of it.

I am a hammer-wielder remembering I am water. I am trying on an activism that does not act, work that does not work. That which follows nothing but the way of nature and takes its own natural course. That which does not concern itself with definitions.

If what is felt is pain, and what is needed is the stopping of the pain, then my action becomes the stopping of pain.
If what is needed is freedom, my action becomes freedom.
If what is needed is love, my action becomes love.
If what is needed is revolution, my action becomes revolution.

How do I know what is needed?
I feel cold.

If what is needed is finding warmth, my action becomes finding warmth.
It is acting to serve nothing but the needs created by feelings, and not holding to any idea of what each means. Fuck your Rational Self Interest. As if Interest were rational. So often it is physical, biological, intuitive, emotional, psychological, spiritual.

And all of those are just labels to tear the fuck off, because what use do they do anyone?
I feel.
I feel.
I feel.

That is it. I can be certain of nothing beyond my immediate sensation.

When you feel powerless, you are.
When you feel useless, you are.
When you feel sad, you are.
When you feel happy, you are.
When you feel free, you are.
When you allow yourself to feel whatever it is you feel, you give yourself the ultimate freedom.
When you choose to act as you would in each moment, you rule the only power that can ever rule you.

I don’t know what that looks like for you, for society, for anyone.

I only know how I feel.

For me, anarchist activism IS the lack of plan.
The un-rigid law, the way that exists in a hundred thousand forms because its essence is flux.
You are never not doing it, and your rigidity, your definitions, your shoulds and shouldn’ts, these are the only things standing in your own way.

For me, I am letting go of the need to do by fully feeling the need to do, and turning that tension into freedom.
I’m working at saving the world through through non-work, through that which only ever feels like play.

Does it work?
I can’t tell you what ‘it working’ would look like. I only know my own feeling, which is this:
Yes, it does. It works.
Nothing else ever has.


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