My Blog

FREEDOM

Greg Clear — Sun, 09 Mar 2008 23:01:57 GMT

The truth of the matter is this for me. I finally realized that freedom doesnt come in the form of what you do with it. It comes in the form how you access the parts of your mind that you keep telling yourself, "no I cant do that." Once you realize youve done it, at least in your mind, you have to move on. Now if that lesson works on me, Ill be here to live long enough to tell your kids that life is worth living. But if I choose to breed, let me tell you this, my kids ill know this: that under the pavement is nature, its just a few inches, sometimes feet away and there's nothing I want more than to see them free in nature. I actually turned off a movie this morning because they left the forest and went to town. I realized something in that. I hope you all are living your dreams or putting the ducks in order to do so. Anything else is slavery and if you read this, Im guessing your a soulder not a soilder or a slave for that matter. Do what you want or what you need to get it.

Lakota Nation

Greg Clear — Fri, 08 Feb 2008 05:37:12 GMT

When the last electric light goes out, And the internet no longer clicks, When all of our rivers run with aluminum, And the sea swirls with plastic bottles, We will realize that money cannot be eaten, Nor borders upheld. http://www.republicoflakotah.com

Simultaneous Sunrise & Set

Greg Clear — Wed, 26 Dec 2007 00:03:04 GMT

Moving swiftly and yet my mind moved slowly through the airport I find that our community, our tribe is the furthest removed from the world of that which surrounds us. We are targets of good, trust, proctection and a representation of all that still is human. The future is here. It is not coming. And in this time when humanity is overcome by destiny, we represent the only things that are real, we carry the torch of what is true when illusion fails. We are what everyone will become...in a way. You are special, you are needed, you are truely a light in all that which is dark. Stand tall and proud, walk your way. Help those who are failing, the ones who seek direction. Show them the direction is to think about their own direction. Trust those who follow only themselves. When you no longer react to anyone or anything you have become the person you always wanted to be. I made it through the airport. My gate got changed. The guy next to me munched on a pack of 100 Calorie Chocolate Chip Cookies as my chlorinated water helped three ice cubes float generously between phases of liquid and gas. And as I relaxed into my seat, finally in the furthest back corner of the jet, with thousands of moments to travel, the sun set far off in the hills somewhere while somewhere else on an open sea rised simultanously... without me.

Post

Greg Clear — Wed, 14 Nov 2007 06:39:02 GMT

I've got a post... It goes like this. Don't dance too fast. The music won't last. Done.

Three Worlds

Greg Clear — Wed, 26 Sep 2007 21:23:14 GMT

It had been brought to my attention that in the beginning of time early man and woman spent day upon day in the wilderness. Such a place was full of fear, predator and inclimate weather, unpredictable and unrelenting. This was the wild. Today we have found ways to move from such a place to one where predators are our fellow humans, the fear comes from powerful men, and the weather still tends to fall but now we have boxes from which away we can get by crawling into them. We call them homes. This is the Default There is a place where the weather is unreal and comes from the ground up, the men and women also nearly are of a dream and the interactions unrepeatable yet repetitive. It is not however a dream. It is rather a city, one more made of magic than the disappearing acts of any magician there ever has been. But yet it is not magic, it is real. This is Black Rock.

Social Unplug Dare

Greg Clear — Mon, 09 Jul 2007 23:41:13 GMT

Without a cell, internet connection or television how long can you survive at this point in human history? No, not in theory. In reality… would you, no, could you give up all of these three things for one week? A month? A day? Would you? Do it then. That's what I thought...

Never Slept

Greg Clear — Wed, 06 Jun 2007 19:56:26 GMT

Sometimes I wish I was in Nicaragua but that is a bunch of shit. I never went. I just had to check out. This is what I came up with. America is not all it's cracked up to be. The dream ended. The nightmare started. The rest of us never went to sleep. Oh, and I don't plan on it.

Nicaruagua

Greg Clear — Mon, 14 May 2007 13:56:03 GMT

Just walked through the boarder of Mexico this morning into Guatemala on the way to Nicaruagua. Final Destination, should be this evening or tomorrow, Lago de Ometepepe. Captain's travel log, stardate May 14, 2007, sometime after sunrise: the darker the skin the friendlier. It is obvious the white people are drenched in overcoats of comepition, confusion and manipulation down here. Nonetheless, I travel forward running into both those connected with the land and those connected with cultures of nonesense, pointlessness and rejection. The taste of rejection stampers on my tounge from last night. Two beautiful girls, women actually, with roundness and ripeness realizing only this morning rolling in reality I remembered that chicks don't like it when I reject them no matter how kind I am. This thought harbors on the sea of my mind today as I move by foot, by plane and by taxi, possibly by autobus. Everytime a ship, lady friend if you will, has docked and set sail to the open ocean, distress calls I have faced. In the metaphor I am not the coast guard but rather the shore itself; I send out helpers to assists these ladies caught in such high swells, turblulent seas. Upon their return always how they cry and tell me they never should have left, but in myself I shake my head so as not to let them see I agree, and welcome them back friend or foe as does the shore to the sea it does too without a no, or a know.

Fucking Aliens Dude

Greg Clear — Thu, 10 May 2007 20:53:24 GMT

Waffle my arse, I say Aliens I mean really, who builds with toothpicks. You gotta be from outter space?!

Dalai Lama, Grandpa, Me

Greg Clear — Wed, 09 May 2007 04:53:05 GMT

The 14th Dalai Lama spoke in Chicago on Sunday May 6 in a Park. After a moment of presence by pointing out our connection to nature, each other and the city he asked gently what the white tent in rows 30-40 were. Once he was told it was the sound board a laugh/giggle clapped out of his belly and through his eyes. Pointing out a few bald guys in the audience and chuckling at their, "wisdom shining through," he gave a talk. It's confidencial though so I can't tell you here. No, just kidding. He spoke about compassion. The road to compassion is to avoid anger placed on the self by experiencing through other people's senses the world. However, when one fails at this and allows the thorns of other's anger to penetrate oneself, "as we cannot cover the world in leather but only our feet," as to avoid stepping on thorns, we are left to learn forgiveness. Forgiveness is the ability, and action, of separating one's actions from the person (either the self's actions or another). When we see that we are all the same, just look different, and understand that sometimes people just have a bad day or moment, we can forgive the individual and understand their moment or doing was a blurp in time. He recommends getting divorced if you're living with a partner who keeps blurping. Finding a calm mind is the only way to be healthy in body. And, "I've never seen an unhealthy person happy, and all the happy people I've seen are healthy in groups of more healthy people." My grandpa said that yesterday laying in the hospital wrapped up with sheets, gleaming from a shining head looking not that much different from the Dalai himself. Funny thing was he gave the same talk. At the end my grandfather pronounced me a graduate of grade 1, which he upped to grade 3 by midnight, and pronounced me a minister or priest or rabbi or lama myself. When I went back for my lesson today I learned when someone says excuse me, they mean it. I learned when someone means something to listen. I did not move up a grade. Yeeha.

Money

Greg Clear — Wed, 02 May 2007 21:40:16 GMT

Ahhh! Money. I think we should all just go back to using cacoa beans for money. That or goats and sheep. Who'll trade me three sheep, two goats and a pig, a place to live in the forest among pine trees and we'll cook up some bbq ribs... for my computer, cell phone and a funny joke. No seriously, artificial environments require the use of common mathmatics as language aka interaction. Cities never stop dancing, prancing and lancing. The music is zooms, whoosh, chi, chi, chi, waaeiiii, vroom. Thank goodness there is fire spinning which dances to the inner tunage. 88.Greg FM, The Real Clear Channel.

Represent

Greg Clear — Mon, 30 Apr 2007 18:05:31 GMT

Freedom Abundance Collaboration

Central Fire

Greg Clear — Fri, 27 Apr 2007 21:02:41 GMT

Our world is fucked, yeap, yeah. What's next is exciting, simplistic, entertaining. After demise, western civilization via alien contact, environmental degredation or economic collapse all'll have a week, a month or yearish of total insanity. After SSRI's can't get to heads, the feds can't get guns and all anti-laws are on the run we'll see the armegeddon we've always been shown. But after all those zombies and vampires kill each other we'll stand alone; needing a new philosophy to keep it going, I dedicate myself. It basically comes down to natural perspective. Survival means chillin, kickin' back and relaxing around the fire, telling stories and cuddling, oh sorry, I meant protecting the ladies when we're not off "protecting." Radical self-reliance will get us to, through there. Doing it together will keep that flame in the center burning. Smiling will be our enjoyment the whole way in and out. Sambazon sherbert melts without electricity, that's why I like how things are now too.

Green Defined

Greg Clear — Wed, 25 Apr 2007 06:40:28 GMT

Green is in reference to something that most have never experienced. I have. The community that happens after weeks, months, years even, living in nature. I don't mean in a cabin in the woods. I mean living in the forest, moving every few days. Doing this with a group of strangers you've never met before brings you down to the ultimate levels: Trust, Survivability, and Spirituality. Trust is the utmost lacking element in Modern Society today. As we move into the realm of the most challenging 10 years of humanity we find ourselves amongst the depression that's coupled with artificiality of environment. When we remove ourselves from nature physically, we loose all ability to trust in times of famine, but famine is the edge of abundance in every natural environment. This alchemization exposes hidden personalities into self sufficient individuals. Survivability is not crawling along the forest floor seeping up Shmigel's raw cat fish for dinner. Survivability is the act of an entire group of people cooking and eating until absolutely full at every meal, through seriousness always silence, through silence always humor and on through to enjoyment, rest and relaxation within safety. Communication with animals is the route to safety, yes I've met my share of bears, moose, elk, hippo, snakes and mtn. lion, protected my women, shed no blood and so fuck off. They talk too, you've had a cat or a dog, so get over it. The last aspect of survivability is consistancy or growth in population, land and emotional security. Conflict resolution is discussion, is timeless. Spirituality just happens along with all of these when you are in nature. There is no sunday school when the book you're reading is written on the paper made from the trees you sit beneath. It ain't about getting out to nature for a day or an afternoon, even a weekend with a friend. It's about seeing what a difference many nights with new people does to you, them and your work. Take yourself and rite your passage. If yo'z already done did it, then what does thou read this for? Green is cultural, natural and supernatural. Artificiality drains the psyche. It's effect oftentimes is a truth so harsh not even the body can appreciate it let alone the mind. And the heart, forget about it. Green is everything; it's everything that happens in true reality with community, strangers or not, prolonged and sustained in abundance provisionality respectivity and receptivity with innovativity sexuality and immunitivity coupled with emotionality in spirituality truthfully beautifully. Yes, that includes chests.

Green This Bitches

Greg Clear — Fri, 20 Apr 2007 19:06:57 GMT

Earth Day is Today.... Oops?!?!? Wait... no, today is. Awe, shucks everyday is today on earth. All Green turns to brown. Steam clean that shit. Beneath again is a leaner meaner greener heater treater nice. Earth. Treat her nice. She is beautiful.

Rules of Conduct by Thomas McInshield

Greg Clear — Mon, 16 Apr 2007 22:41:10 GMT

1. Play honestly. 2. Falsify those who assume. 3. Express interest, then initiate expression. 4. Enter lightly, respect, exit alone. 5. Dance when done.

In the Subway on Friday the 13th

Greg Clear — Fri, 13 Apr 2007 21:10:12 GMT

Spooky Day Zombies have no song. Warewolves away, far and gone. Dracula friends are kept up all night long. I'll kill all those fuckers. Blood suckers. Die, Die. Space people eat another meal. What's the deal? I feel real. Orange peel. Steal, Allie Beal, Bannana Peel. To rhyme on a dime is better than to be Spooked by a stoop today. So in my peace I will stay, away, may I be pleased to see, endless glory-ies. Fire burns up ills, thrills, grain mills. I see the wacks and I stay back. I can't change them. They are already have done gone crazy! For me crazy is lazy. I stay with it ez-e. Choosing the easy way everytime I stay unblind to the likes and thrills, champion kills, diet pills, wills, microsoft, dills, madness kills, gunshots ring out like a bell in hell. Down here the gun shots aint realz, they just like takin' bad pillz. It's really jus' the train that goes by, makes noise on the fly. Then back to drawing like I gettin' paintin' by this here guy. Now I can fly.

DPW Builds Burning Man

Greg Clear — Thu, 12 Apr 2007 23:41:53 GMT

Now boundaries are of minds. No longer do generations make lines. Subcultures, the masses, moderns and tribes. Like old cells die gone away, gone mental boundaries today. When come to light the endless night, it is a moment of silence before their rite of passage, the masses. Alive Behave. We drive the train while others undo thier insane. In moons we can relax, time is in our sacks. Dreamers, sleep now. It won't last long. Us drivers are music. Strong.

Borges, Borges, Borges

Greg Clear — Tue, 10 Apr 2007 17:48:17 GMT

Quotes, unfortunately by, Borges "No one realized that the book and the laybrinth were one and the same..." "I walk slowly, like one who comes from so far away he doesn't expect to arrive." "We drew our heavy revolvers -- all at once there were revolvers in the dream -- and joyously put the gods to death." - Borges

Death

Greg Clear — Mon, 09 Apr 2007 18:42:35 GMT

When you look all around and all you see is space, First look up, then down. Stars off in distance you see. Now look down to see your body. It is not there. Journey. Star. Sleep.

Yaweh Went Crazy

Greg Clear — Fri, 06 Apr 2007 03:21:10 GMT

The Beast soon dead. New life rising. Peace Encroaching. Provision Evoking. Destinies Available! Fuck old Truths. Old Religions. Old Scripts. From alien when in heaven, To Man when on earth at 7'11" Yaweh you went Crazy!??! Bro, you okay? Here’s an s-healer. Show him the way. “You are so broken.” Innocent Beautiful Girl Massage, Touch, Intention G@D was broken. Hey little girl, will you fix this one? She walks on a back. She never took a class. Wonderment be had. Alas. Get your head out of your ass. Alas. Can someone get this man a beer! Fear took him here. Beer in hand he doesn’t shut up for hours. “Eyes. All these eyes, looking up at me all the time.” “Whining, fine lines, too much stress. Is it over yet?” Look Up Dude. I notice G@D has a dread. A man waltzes by to pass my new friend a high. We all sit, circle up to smoke, Tell stories of old and new, too many Ditka jokes. I’m still laughing about the intergalactic alien hoax. “What? Don’t you boys know it’s time for a tobacco smoke?” I pass the tallest man another beer, halt his fear. Thought to self; At least it wasn’t the him in a cloak. Wearing just white, half-naked as usual, God got up to tell another joke. “Is this guy drunk?” Whispers are about. But the punch line never ends. Laughs mount. So tall and lengthy, no longer confused, is the man who’s handle is God, The man who’s name cost us more than the ipod. And that’s the story of how things came did come to be, A tall man came did down confused as a clown. He left all alone drunken, happy like nurse and we sure got him stoned. But next time he’ll be back full of new stories and fuck his glory, it’s our turn to rule. Now you might think it’s cruel, poopty poo as stool. I say we’re all equal. Place down the gun, take a smoke break, shit… try this… have F.U.N. But I ask this message, “Does daddy play pool?” Cause I sure would like to whip G.O.D.’s ass in darts, slow driving or pool. Now that would be cool.

Plan

Greg Clear — Tue, 03 Apr 2007 20:11:15 GMT

Future here. Hope not fear. Sustainability. Trust that in which you do not believe. Wisdom is. Breathe.

Alternative Medicine Simplified

Greg Clear — Thu, 29 Mar 2007 21:24:00 GMT

Chinese Medicine, Good for non-emergency health conditions. Western Medicine, Bad for non-emergency health conditions. Surgury and Sedation Sometimes are needed. Maintainace and Repair Always are needed. Wax on, Wax off

Deep in her Soul & Above her Mind

Greg Clear — Wed, 28 Mar 2007 21:50:39 GMT

Her legs are like broken cinder blocks. Her heart is like a lost ghost in search of another body. Her eyes say, I rely on you. Her coat is like that of the white snow on the mountain she is named after. Her coat is like the black carpet she cries upon each day she dreams of her home. Her home is generations away. Maybe one, or it could be more; her home is nonetheless removed from what they call her home. She knows very little beyond who she is and where she is from. There is very little to know beyond this at all. Deep in her soul there is rummage through pine needles and sniffs of a fallen elk or a down doe under the moon, in the forest, at night, during the winter, in the silent of the loudest forest there ever were. Next to her in that forest she can turn at any one moment and know beyond the words of humans that her love watches her back. She sees him sometimes but mostly she can feel he is near. Sometimes she will desert him and their pups for days at a time in search of good water, better food or a more adept feeling of night solitude. She can sense a herd of elk or a smoking rifle with the tip of her nose beyond the accuracy of humans and their GPS (globalization phallic symbolization extrapolation) toys of primary location. When each predator comes she knows it is a relationship, not a threat. When each prey comes, although she may get excited she will never forget it is also a relationship. Above her mind the confusion of prey and predator dilutes her every breath as she lies with boredom under the living room table. Feet pass by in front of her but they are of no threat, nor are they of interest as a next meal. Her loved one still exists in her heart. She knows he is there. She will not see him this lifetime. He is cooped up in another cell with another desolate forest to shit in behind his home. He may call it falsely a home in another suburb in another state possibly at another time. Time is all she has to count today. She sits and waits. Waits and waits to either go on a run around a pavement track chocked on a blue extension chord or waits to die. Both are near similar at this point. Death in the forest is the same death that exists in her soul. It means transformation. The cycle continues and with her soul, that gives her body to her, relative the earth, she again is one. She has reached another stair on her journey of which each moment fulfills her like a full meal every third day. Bone marrow, flesh and tendons that taste like pine trees and pure snow. They transform into energy the same way she too will one day. She knows this, but to worry about or even let it cross her mind is a tragedy. To think at all in such a wonderland of grace and beauty too is a tragedy. For if she were to think only for a moment her entire moments would be missed. And that is all she has, just a pile of moments. Desire to tear apart those moments or make them go faster or make them just simply go away, this penetrates almost every moment of her day. All she can do now is think. Think, think, think. She is going crazy and they want to take her to go to a mental fixer who can get into her brain. They don’t understand she just needs to get out of her head and into the wild. Her psychological thriller these days is found in, “commier oohie boochie lil pookie girl full of moochie loochie lovie dovie.” Her hunting stimulation comes when dried up leftover oatmeal and calf hooves are compressed into easily transportable pellets, poured into a plastic maroon bowl and pointed at by large organisms with over proportionate appendages. These are her protectors without swords or her slave masters. They protect because cars are bad. If she were to run away any one of them would bring her back to the small hellhole she left. Only if she were lucky would a strange one return her to the encampment. There the cells are smaller and the end comes in a large needle with a good soft feeling of overtiredness. She still remembers what home was like. She is close enough to her generations of wildness that home still resonates in her instincts and heart yet beyond memory. She is far enough to know that home will not be attained and to fight for it is a lost cause in this lifetime. She only hopes her offspring will be numb enough not realize what it was they lost, their home. Then she realizes that even her ability to share this life with those to follow in hopes of a better one for her pups will never happen. The slave masters have taken her ovaries; they have ground them up and used them to feed baby calves for extra protein production; the same baby cows who walk around on four hooves or feet, or paws or whatever you call them.

The Secret's Secret

Greg Clear — Tue, 27 Mar 2007 07:04:29 GMT

Trusting Thoughts, Morality and The Secret’s Secret Having let the cat out of the bag on The Secret, I would like to explain the danger of this. What follows is the reason why, “The Secret was a Secret.” The secret has always been kept a secret because it can be used for power. The effects of human power can be treated as good or evil. Without regard for another’s point of view, POV, we make decisions that effect others without consent. To me, this is what is defined as pure evil: The act of effecting other people, animals or plants that will inflict causation without consent (oppression, using, taking advantage of). Without taking the time to consider and trust all POV’s we are at risk of committing evil. I believe evil is done when another’s POV is not trusted, even if they feel good after having been effected. That’s the journey to the secret’s secret, learning morality, consent. When we deny ourselves, our denial leads us to believe we can’t trust another. Morality is the act of trusting the self and the self’s perception of another. Every time we tell ourselves we cannot see from another point of view, POV, we are telling ourselves we do not believe in our own POV. Let me explain; we must first trust ourselves to trust our thoughts, all POV’s are thoughts. In order to trust another’s POV, we must trust our thoughts. The secret was a secret to us because it is derived from those of us who trust our own decisions and found power as a result of morality, trusting thoughts. Power is the trusting of morality, and the unknown into which it will change as a result of action; be it final thought, first words or movement aka decisions or choices. Whoever let the secret out without teaching morality first is in for some trouble of their own –if it has not already been brought upon themselves- for it was not born from morality and all that which exists without its source is inherently separation: darkness. Separateness is breeding grounds for evil; even if the results of this experiment are good, I define the process as evil. I urge those of you who find interest in the secret to find first: morality in yourself. Morality = Self Trust (Confidence at 100% Capacity, 100% of Thoughts) It’s a secret because getting what you want is based on trusting what you want. The real secret is therefore, self trust. Now that Pandora’s box is open, let us close our eyes and ask ourselves, “Do I trust my thoughts 100% of the time at 100% confidence?” If the answer is yes, you are the secret. You are moral and powerful. You have everything. If no, you must learn to trust your thoughts before you choose what you want. If you are subjected to learning morality first start by observing nature. If you choose to learn power first, I know deeply the effects of this process (Power then Morality). At even a 1% rate of failure the entire planet could be found as a desolate wasteland to the starlight that travels here nightly in only a few more thousand years to come. If you choose to learn first morality and with it power successfully, you will find yourself among nature with an ability to be among the artificial, while knowing it is just nature but redefined. To find oneself anywhere outside of nature is to have lost the self. Starvation of food, water and air are the only ways one can exist outside physical nature. It is the entrance into another dimension of the natural world. Let’s just do one at a time though…