My father used to tell me that most disastrous is always a collision with an idiot. Ever since I knew myself, most encounters are dire. Rejecting violence, the army of saints raises the banner of truth — all petty, puffed-up egos will be destroyed. Bugles screech, war drums shake the Earth. Adam is here. Dear me, do reveal: How long will you tolerate Human ignorance?

This is one of the more sensible articles on the topic. However, I eagerly await the day when queer folks come to terms with the fact that they are not the standard. …

The more I look at the world, the more it seems to me that all living beings strive for peace in one way or another. Ironically, even those who instigate conflict simply want to shape the world in a way which they suppose will bring them lasting satisfaction. But, in the end, everyone just wants to have no care and worry in the world. How absurd human society looks when you sit thus on your porch. But even that is of no concern.

People are asking, “Could God create a stone so heavy that even he could not lift it?” If I were God, I would just say, “Here, a stone so heavy that even I can not lift it,” and I would laugh my ass off. Then again, the whole premise in…

Do you want to run a state? Be my guest. Do you want to organize the flow of goods? You’re more than welcome. Do you want to manage natural resources and produce energy? You have my unbending support. Do you want to take care of land and farm animals? Kudos…

Mine? Then, who is me? Who am I? Who is I? You experience a representation of an internal commentary of my direct experience. Whose knowledge is that? (Who is?)

There are powers. They are not yours. You are them. All you can do is to tune and to zoom. In and out. You cannot defy gravity — you can fly. You are immortal — you will die. Was fear really conquered? Were blinding illusions seen through? If so, why the tight control and constant meddling? Ixtlan is here and now. And who does know what the omens really mean? Let go, accept, allow, love. Rest in peace, alive. At last.

I vividly recall the time when I was what I would call a novice stoner. Not that new to the landscapes as to be shocked speechless, but I was definitely not a disciplined navigator either. This stage, which every psychonaut goes through, was characterized by a specific pattern of experience…

I’m at home. There is peace. And busy people. Also dogs, ants, and dust. I breath. I know that I am. Smoke against greenery pierces the smell of earth after rain.