PP #51: Beatific/Beautiful

We had our first visitors here in our pioneer enclave, after being at this lifestyle for a year. We see our families often, but until now, none have ventured into our world. It can be a little hurtful at times, but completely understandable. This life can be intimidating, and it’s not for everyone. It takes one out of their comfort zone, especially those who are only familiar with the sticks and bricks trodden path of normalcy. Let’s talk about that programming. Project: Pioneer is the live weekly reality journal of a couple and their small dog as they leave their ‘normal’ life in a luxury apartment for a new semi-off grid life in a small recreational vehicle. We cover prepping, politics, spirituality, afterlife, RV life, and personal finance. Half of all subscription/donation money goes to The National Alliance to End Homelessness, the other half pays for expenses. You can listen to the audio podcast version of this journal at Substack, Apple, Spotify, PocketCasts and others. As our visitors arrived, the clouds moved away to yield the sun. It was a beautiful day of togetherness, walks through the woods, paddleboats, laughter, and the non-device nature wonderment of small children. Giavana and I sat outside with our guests—my daughter and son-in-law and their girls, dining at the picnic table, talking about life. Their big shepherd enjoyed the outdoor ambiance, and our little Pia may have gotten a little jealous at first. The summer was full of wonderful memories, and that one closed it out in perfection. I’ll be forever thankful for that day. It was an ending of sorts. Summer’s end. The woods were full of campers and it was loud. Lots of people, just blowing off steam, happy to be away from it all for a brief time. It seemed to go on forever, starting on Thursday morning, until on Monday when the last stragglers pulled away, sadly, heading back to the pulling vortex of reality, and left us alone once again. I puttered about outside, cleaning up. White dead ashen embers in the firepit and the children’s long, thin marshmallow sticks propped up on lawn chairs all a sad reminder of our special day. I had told them how delicious those blackened marshmallows they had prepared for me were. The hammock those kids enjoyed so much now sat still, alone, unattended, perhaps catching its breath after a substantial workout, so much attention as those gleeful kids shrieked and pushed it to its limits. I also said goodbye to a few fellow pioneers, heading out for warmer climes now that summer is drawing its curtain. One fellow was traveling with just his basset hound, lost after losing his wife, no longer permitting himself a home, riding out his time in that old class A. My old best friend (the basis for the hero Shayne in Farawayer) and his wife now finally, finally retired and just left for their countrywide RV journey. Dubuque, Iowa at last report. I’m happy for them, envious, and look forward to their reports. The distractions of summer concerts and festivals now behind us, Giavana and I will focus more on the future—near and far. The election is a big factor, I’ve covered all that and what our options will be if it goes one way or the other. Our next big task is to begin organizing and inventorying our meager possessions, our minimalist, prepper things, in order to prepare for our move to a new winter site. We’ll empty and clean this White House home from stem to stern, fore and aft, inside and out to prepare her for winter. The move will happen in October, next month, as far as setting up in the new place. We’ll leave for a getaway in November, to be out of the country for the election, safe and cozy by a lake, a much needed break. Henry David Thoreau wrote in Walden (a treasure, and one of my favorite books) about being simple and minimalist as a way of resisting unjust economic and political systems. What he was saying is that by buying into the pressures to have more and more, you enslave yourself and put yourself under the control of others—employers, creditors, those you’re trying to keep up with, your own human built-in greed and lust for “things.” It’s that pulling vortex I mentioned earlier, the sucking whirlpool. He said it leads to people becoming “sleepers” who are eventually absent from their existence, forced into a life where they must get up each day and go through the same Matrix, Groundhog Day routine, and they become numb to it, joyless, stressed, numb to all the beauty and goodness in this world. And that was back in 1854! It’s so much more true now, on steroids. May he rest in peace. Maybe all those words I read as a boy and later as a lost, disaffected young man after my military service are rising up through my subconscious, in rebellion, and have driven us to this pioneer path we’ve undertaken. My Side of the Mountain, On the Road, Walden, and other wonderful books I read during those times. Maybe it’s because we seem to be at the pinnacle of what those books, and other, more dystopian ones (like 1984 and Handmaid’s Tale) all foretold so long ago. Maybe Farawayer was the bubbling up of all that from within me. Maybe this alternative life is our escape—actually, it is, I’ll admit, and it’s wonderful. Regardless, that path to dystopia in the books I read is indisputably happening not just here, but around the world. The USA is the grand prize, the big domino that would cause all others to topple. Evil knows it, big autocracy knows it, big money knows it. This has been a slow freight train, coming for a very long time. We can derail it, I hope. We need the young to rise up, finish what the hippies and beats started, and do it right this time. Take back their future, fight for it. Us oldsters need to try to gain penance for contributing to it, not fighting hard enough, and stand by their sides. Let’s be clear—there isn’t any Doctor Evil/Gru evil genius superhero plotting all this behind a green curtain. It’s the organic outgrowth of out of control, unbridled greed, mostly now in corporate form, since they’ve been recognized as “people too” by the Supreme Court. “People” with zero empathy, knowing only greed, lust for more, more, more, and now driven by artificial intelligence. Giavana and I watched a western movie last night, and framed it in what life may be like to come, from a prepper perspective. Not many will survive that, we’re too soft, too reliant on tech. Back to our visitors. When I’m with my adult kids, especially when I see what fantastic, amazing, loving parents they are, my mind always wanders to going back. I’d like to be their father now, with all I’ve learned since. How good I’d be! We have our children too young, again part of that societal programming: school, career, marriage, kids. We move from one form of being controlled to another, throughout our lives. Feed that tax machine for the wealthy, feed those collection plates, feed that military-industrial war machine with our working kids’ bodies and minds. Are you still figuring out why the wealthy are so against any form of birth control or women making their own decisions? It’s not their kids going off to get maimed and killed in those oil wars. It’s a trap, always was. CEO pay used to be a reasonable three times average worker pay. Now it’s 344 times more! Wall Street profits have gone up 3,800% since 1980 (the beginning of the Reagan age of extreme greed) while worker pay has gone up only 16%. There used to be no billionaires, now they’re consolidating into their own hateful little unhappy space army. Three families here in the US have more money than half the 330 million population combined. The money you make and taxes you pay, your slave wage contributions, almost all go to corporate subsidies for big pharma, big military, and here you are worried that immigrants might get the meager Social Security they’re paying into, and some poor single mom might get food stamps until she can afford child care to get a job. Only one party is now… This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit billydecarlo.substack.com/subscribe