Sharing this Journey

Light slowly comes
into the cave,
we begin to see

all we have imagined
is sustained merely
by belief.

A real world now,
of soft revelations
begins to appear.

The life has been various — activist, contemplative, many places, many forms. Navy at seventeen. An anarchist commune in the Ozarks. Twenty years in Santa Cruz, then New Mexico, then western North Carolina. These days southern Oregon, mostly alone, mostly writing. I am in my eighties.

What gets written here moves between things most people keep apart. Empire, enclosure, the petrodollar, what is being done to the living world and who it is being done for. And the other movement — awakening, dissolution, the ordinary recognition underneath all of it. Not two subjects. The same one, come at from two ends.

The writing follows what is actually happening, inward and outward, as far as it goes. No teaching offered. No arrival claimed.

Paths take us, we don’t take them...

John Fridinger
Talent, Oregon

Everything here is free and stays free. There is a paid subscription and it unlocks nothing, because there is nothing to unlock. What it does is keep a roof over the writing, which at the moment is the thing that decides how much of it gets done.