If you could start a new business right now, what would it be?
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I would buy a newspaper and start my own media company. I want to run a media company and build a reputation in that community as a source of reliable information.
A New Chapter
From southern California, to northern New Mexico, to eastern Texas. At thirty-five-years-old, I feel like my best years are behind me. Physically, that may be true but it doesn’t have to be. If I take care of myself, this isn’t even half-time.
I feel like my writing is the only thing I do that has any value or purpose, and I intend to use it to leave a legacy for future generations.
Analyzing New Mexico
I lived in northern New Mexico for twenty-five years and I worked as a news reporter for the past five years. The most frustrating thing about journalism in my tiny village was the vitriol that many of the locals held towards anyone who dared to suggest that the community needs to change.
One of my goals as a journalist was to encourage more people to participate in civic processes while giving the public the information they need for such participation. However, most of the feedback I received from locals was unproductively negative. My typical response to such negativity was, “what are you going to do about it?” What I heard the most was, “there’s nothing I can do.” That sense of defeatism is frustrating because it’s not true. Half of our power as citizens comes from simply showing up to meetings to hear from the people that we elect. The other half of our power comes from actually stepping up and challenging the people we elect. Most people do not do that so a minority of people ends up speaking for a whole community. There was also a lot of reactionary anger towards any company that showed interest in developing an area of the village and bringing more economic activity to the community. Then the locals would wonder why all their kids were leaving after they graduated high school.
Taos County is an isolated mountain area housing several communities, each with strong cultural identities, particularly the municipalities of the Town of Taos, the Village of Questa, and the Town of Red River.
Incorporated as the Town of Taos in 1934, Taos initially built itself through the farming and ranching industries through the 20th century. As the area modernized (meaning abandoned its industrial base), Taos has developed a reputation as a liberal artist’s safe space with an aesthetic for community and an addiction to materialism. It’s become a vacation hot spot for skiers and snowboarders who have the money to flee from their troubles for a winter. Despite New Mexico’s historical connections with Spanish Catholicism, many modern Americans in Taos seem determined to replace God with a caramel macchiato. Farming and ranching is still a large part of New Mexico’s economy overall but Taos has been overrun with uptight urbanites who’d rather not look at where their food comes from.
The Chevron Corporation opened a molybdenum mine above Questa in 1916 and Questa built itself as a mining town through the 20th century with Questa incorporating as the Village of Questa in 1964. In contrast to their neighbors to the south in Taos, Questa has retained a strong blue-collar identity through their mining, farming, and ranching economy. Even the Village of Questa, as small as it is, is still not just one community. It’s a collection of communities from the Village to Cerro to El Rito to Latir to Sunshine Valley to Costilla to Amalia and all the way up to the border with Colorado. The whole area has been going through somewhat of an identity crisis since the mine closed in 2014 and local elected officials have been trying to reinvent the Village ever since, much to the chagrin of many of the local elders. Many of the elder population would rather “see the Village die than change.” That’s not hyperbole, that’s a real quote. Then you have the hippies who live on the outskirts of the Village in the El Rito and Latir neighborhoods who came to the area in the 1970’s and 1980’s to find seclusion in the aftermath of the 60’s counter-culture movement. All they want is to live the rest of their lives smoking weed, tripping on shrooms, and reliving Woodstock. There’s the kids who just want to get a decent job after high school, but anyone who has any ambition doesn’t see any opportunity in Questa beyond becoming a manager at one of the local shops. Entrepreneurs struggle because they are seen as outsiders trying to change the Village despite the obvious need for more jobs. And it seems like the few people who actually try to keep the Village’s economy alive are viewed as sell-outs who just care about money.
They say small town politics is even more nasty than big city politics. I think that’s an illusion. All politics is nasty. It’s just, in a big city, the nastiness is more hidden. New Mexico is a lot of small towns and they’re all filled with people who are hanging on to an America that barely exists anymore.
A Man With No Home
I was born in Santa Ana, California. My earliest memories range throughout Long Beach and northern Orange County. I moved to Taos, New Mexico, when I was 13, and graduated from Taos High School in May of 2009. Despite the time I’ve spent in California and New Mexico, despite the people I’ve met, despite the friends and family I’ve gained, I don’t feel connected to either of those places. I’ve never fully understood what a home should feel like.
Always the one alone longs for mercy,
the Maker’s mildness, though, troubled in mind,
across the ocean-ways he has long been forced
to stir with his hands the frost-cold sea,
and walk in exile’s paths. Wyrd is fully fixed.
Thus spoke the Wanderer, mindful of troubles,
of cruel slaughters and dear kinsmen’s downfall:
“Often alone, in the first light of dawn,
I have sung my lament. There is none living
to whom I would dare to reveal clearly
my heart’s thoughts. I know it is true
that it is a nobleman’s lordly nature
to closely bind his spirit’s coffer,
hold fast his treasure-hoard, whatever he may think.
The weary mind cannot withstand wyrd,
the troubled heart can offer no help,
and so those eager for fame often bind fast
in their breast-coffers a sorrowing soul,
just as I have had to take my own heart—
Often wretched, cut off from my own homeland,
far from dear kinsmen—and bind it in fetters,
ever since long ago I hid my gold-giving friend
in the darkness of earth, and went wretched,
winter-sad, over the ice-locked waves,
sought, hall-sick, a treasure-giver,
wherever I might find, far or near,
someone in a meadhall who might know my people,
or who would want to comfort me, friendless,
accustom me to joy. He who has come to know
how cruel a companion is sorrow
for one with few dear friends, will understand:
the path of exile claims him, not patterned gold,
a winter-bound spirit, not the wealth of earth.
He remembers hall-holders and treasure-taking,
how in his youth his gold-giving lord
accustomed him to the feast—that joy has all faded.
And so he who has long been forced to forego
his lord’s beloved words of counsel will understand:
when sorrow and sleep both together
often bind up the wretched exile,
it seems in his mind that he clasps and kisses
his lord of men, and on his knee lays
hands and head, as he sometimes long ago
in earlier days enjoyed the gift-throne.
But when the friendless man awakens again
and sees before him the fallow waves,
seabirds bathing, spreading their feathers,
frost falling and snow, mingled with hail,
then the heart’s wounds are that much heavier,
longing for his loved one. Sorrow is renewed
when the memory of kinsmen flies through the mind;
he greets them with great joy, greedily surveys
hall-companions—they always swim away;
the floating spirits bring too few
familiar voices. Cares are renewed
for one who must send, over and over,
a weary heart across the binding waves.
And so I cannot imagine for all this world
why my spirit should not grow dark
when I think through all this life of men,
how suddenly they gave up the hall-floor,
mighty young retainers. Thus this middle-earth
droops and decays every single day;
and so a man cannot become wise, before he has weathered
his share of winters in this world. A wise man must be patient,
neither too hot-hearted nor too hasty with words,
nor too weak in war nor too unwise in thoughts,
neither fretting nor fawning nor greedy for wealth,
never eager for boasting before he truly understands;
a man must wait, when he makes a boast,
until the brave spirit understands truly
where the thoughts of his heart will turn.
The wise man must realize how ghastly it will be
when all the wealth of this world stands waste,
as now here and there throughout this middle-earth
walls stand blasted by wind,
beaten by frost, the buildings crumbling.
The wine halls topple, their rulers lie
deprived of all joys; the proud old troops
all fell by the wall. War carried off some,
sent them on the way, one a bird carried off
over the high seas, one the gray wolf
shared with death—and one a sad-faced man
covered in an earthen grave. The Creator
of men thus destroyed this walled city,
until the old works of giants stood empty,
without the sounds of their former citizens.
He who deeply considers, with wise thoughts,
this foundation and this dark life,
old in spirit, often remembers
so many ancient slaughters, and says these words:
‘Where has the horse gone? where is the rider? where is the giver of gold?
Where are the seats of the feast? where are the joys of the hall?
O the bright cup! O the brave warrior!
O the glory of princes! How the time passed away,
slipped into nightfall as if it had never been!
There still stands in the path of the dear warriors
a wall wondrously high, with serpentine stains.
A storm of spears took away the warriors,
bloodthirsty weapons, wyrd the mighty,
and storms batter these stone walls,
frost falling binds up the earth,
the howl of winter, when blackness comes,
night’s shadow looms, sends down from the north
harsh hailstones in hatred of men.
All is toilsome in the earthly kingdom,
the working of wyrd changes the world under heaven.
Here wealth is fleeting, here friends are fleeting,
here man is fleeting, here woman is fleeting,
all the framework of this earth will stand empty.’
So said the wise one in his mind, sitting apart in meditation.
He is good who keeps his word, and the man who never too quickly
shows the anger in his breast, unless he already knows the remedy
a noble man can bravely bring about. It will be well for one who seeks mercy,
consolation from the Father in heaven, where for us all stability stands.
Hunter S. Thompson was ahead of the curve with gonzo journalism – a style of truth-telling designed for people who are afraid of the truth but still need to hear it. With all of Thompson’s wild antics and neurotic substance abuse, he is among the greatest writers the 20th century every produced.
So, where is he now?
Technically speaking, Thompson’s ashes are most likely a part of the soil of central Colorado. His body was cremated on August 20, 2005, after he committed suicide five months earlier at his Woody Creek property at the age of 67.
Perhaps he was past his prime or perhaps we need him now more than ever. How do you think Thompson would cover the presidency of Donald Trump?
Perhaps in a Volvo with blue leather seats, a McIntosh amp, and a fifty watt boom box on his way to Washington D.C.
Perhaps in a red convertible going a hundred miles per hour with the top down on his way to Las Vegas, Nevada.
One thing’s for sure, sobriety would not look good on him. Whoever is traveling with him better remember to pack at least a dozen bottles of Chivas Regal whiskey and a few dozen grapefruits.
A belief in something larger than yourself is necessary to tame the ego.
Faith is the embarking on a journey to find God through a desire to do God’s will.
For an increase in faith, hope, and charity.
God, in Your goodness, restore our hope.
Where we feel imprisoned, break our chains.
Where we feel discouraged, bring us light.
Where the ground feels dry,
break through with life anew.
Amen.
Reject modernity, return to tradition.
We are now six years past the coronavirus pandemic of 2020. Six years past a pandemic with a mortality rate of .04% (per 1,000,000), for which we shut down the country for a year, and we are still recovering from issues related to our global supply chains. However, approximately 18 million Americans took up gardening as a hobby during the pandemic including many millennials. I think that is one positive outcome from the pandemic. More people are realizing just how dependent we all are on external sources of food. Perhaps it’s time for a revival of tradition, a rejection of particular aspects of modernity, and a return to traditional self-sufficiency.
In the words of hip-hop artist Killer Mike:
“We brag on having bread but none of us are bakers. We all talk having greens but none of us own acres. If none of us own acres and none of us grow wheat, then who will feed our people when our people need to eat?”
What are some small, practical steps every American can take to become more selt-suffcient?
I believe any step towards making ourselves more self-sufficient, no matter how small, is a step towards sustainability. It doesn’t matter if you are in the middle of America with ten acres and a chicken coop, or in New York City with a studio apartment and a stockpile of bottled water.
Modern Humans Are Just as Close-minded as Our Ancestors
By Dylan R.N. Crabb
It’s amazing how people will twist their reasoning through a set of mental gymanstics so they do not have to question their ideology. Most of the time they don’t even realize that that’s what they’re doing. It’s as if, once a human mind settles on a particular view of the world, it develops mental blocks to protect itself against people from different tribes with rival viewpoints.
I think so-called “modern” humans are incredibly close-minded in our views of the universe. Principally because of two broad biases: the presentist fallacy (assuming that humans through all time periods think and behave in the same ways that they do today) and the prevalence of materialist philosophies in the wake of the recent decline in spiritual faiths. Today we too often assume that every human across time thought and acted the same way that we do today but that assume that the human mind is inherently logical like a machine. Humans are not inherently logical, we are intuitively rational. Rationality is not the same as logic. The human mind can be compared to a machine in the sense of the complexity of the biological processes and components forming our consciousness, but the human mind cannot be predicted with absolute certainty (regardless of what psychologist would have you believe).
If people prioritized spirituality over matter during the medieval period, I think it’s safe to say we’ve flipped the script (sociologically speaking) in the current-day. This is proven by the fact that there are billions of humans who are technically living in the most secure and most free societies ever created with more material comforts than our ancestors could ever dream of yet we also have the highest rates of negative mental health conditions we’ve ever seen. Humans today are literally living in way that would have been considered luxurious – even royal – hundreds of years ago and we are unhappy and unhealthy.
Material reality is fleeting and temporary yet humans today continue to prioritize the material (jobs, pleasures, living standards, etc.) over spiritual needs (a sense of purpose and/or belonging, family and communal ties, etc.).
Every society in human history has had an element of spirituality woven into its structure. Even in societies that proclaim themselves to be atheist or anti-religion like that of France in the aftermath of the 1792 revolution, they still worshipped something. A society’s ideals reveals what it holds highest or what it worships.
I think too many “modern” humans like to pride themselves on their lack of a religion while failing to understand what exactly a religion or what faith is. Just because one does not believe in a god or a spiritual deity does not mean that that person is mot worshipping something. Perhaps a person who does not realize he is worshipping something is even more dangerous than an openly religious person.
All I’m saying is, I think too many people today are too quick to dismiss ideas regarding spirituality on the assumption that spirituality does not matter. Similarly too many people are too quick to dismiss others who deviate from how they think. Every human being experiences reality through their own personalized perception, which makes communication at broader scales more difficult. It takes more effort the more people one tries to connect with – the more people one opens up to.
Creating order out of chaos is our purpose as humans. Against the chaos of nature, we develop routines and systems to survive. We build structures to keep us warm as well as to focus our minds, then we create routines for self-discipline so we can maintain systems of order across time.
If you are unsure of what to do, think about what you must absolutely accomplish today – that one thing that you cannot ignore any longer – and start there. Then keep building on that momentum. Develop a routine every day and create order out of chaos.
Act with purpose and courage every day.
***
Spring has sprung, warmer days are on the horizon, and life is becoming more visible. We must take advantage of this warmth and this life to project positivity and hope throughout this world.
This world was created with purpose. YOU were born with purpose.
You have to be fast in business.
Entrepreneurship has been on my mind a lot recently so I’ve been diving head first into market research. While I may have lost an opportunity there are still plenty more and entrepreneurs do not make a name out of themselves by giving up easily.
The truth is, if you want to get rich (rich meaning doing what you want when you want), you have to find ways to generate multiple streams of income for yourself. No one ever got rich by working for someone else. You can either work for someone else and help them to reach their goals, or you can find ways to work for yourself and make your goals. You can either help someone else build their castle, or find a way to build your own castle.
Today, there are plenty of resources available for anyone to start a business either from scratch or by buying an existing business and refurbishing it, so get out there, and just do it.
I’ve always idolized Los Angeles. I spent the first 13 years of my life in Long Beach, CA, a suburb of Los Angeles. To me LA was glamorous, the pinnacle of success. Now that I’m grown, I’ve realized the unrealistic idealism in that childhood ideal.
I lived close enough to that city to see it as a part of the background for my home but I did not live in that city, so I did not see its ugly side. I think I was just fascinated by cities in general. Even today, at 33 years old, I have a fantasy in my mind about my ability to afford a home in LA being a sign that I “made it” in life. It’s not rational, it’s sentimental.
Living in Albuquerque for three years, I saw some of the aspects of city life that I idolized in the concept of Los Angeles as a child but I also saw the ugly side of city life – the atomized individuals with decreased community ties and the culmination of the “hustle & motivate” sub-culture of entrepreneurship (and everyone who falls short of that ideal into poverty).
Every city has an ugly side that tourists do not see.
What sentimental feelings from childhood do you hold?
