The Free Radical

(G-Spot Tornado composed by Frank Zappa on the synclavier and first released on his 1986 album Jazz from Hell when it was still considered beyond human ability to perform. This version is humanly performed by Ensemble Modern from the Zappa tribute album from 1993 The Yellow Shark… shortly before Frank’s death.)

The caterpillar harbours no pretensions about butterflies as he enters fat and naked into his cocoon.

Below the level of our conscious awareness, we are already thoroughly entangled. That is our root nature– and the foundation of ‘the world.’

As ‘the veil’ is being scrunched and ultimately lifted, sometimes it feels as though it’s pressing in upon us… smothering… like reality is getting smaller, being squished together… crowded.

Modern evolutionary theory (Ilya Prigogine) tells us that open physical systems that are able to successfully shunt entropy ‘outside’ will, at the moment of maximum chaos, either self-organize into a new order of complexity or collapse in total disarray. That is called the bifurcation point… the moment of truth.

I keep thinking that surely we’re at the point of maximum chaos… only to see further breakdowns in systems, social orders and personal lives continue. We’re truly being stripped bare… but for very good purpose.

We can’t build the new order of complexity while we still rely on external props of false power and false authority (entropy). The basic unit of a functional (healthy) society is a functional, healthy, sovereign individual. Our external illusions keep us from experiencing ourselves in such a manner. Fat bank accounts, social prestige, elite privilege and the likes are the very hinderances to a healthy society– or truly functional individuals.

We, ourselves, are the lowest common denominator– exactly equal when the fictitious external props are dismantled. We are the lowest in that we are the foundation of the reality we experience; and we are the highest in potential when we surrender to the inevitable nakedness demanded.

Each day as I stop by the Hugging Tree, my heart feels like it will burst in celebration each time I embrace simplicity. The trees don’t give a polite flying fuck who you are– whether the president of a country, or a fat CEO, or Aunt Martha’s favourite nephew– only that you have a heart… that you are a heart… only.