When I was about 15 years old, I began a journey…over the decades I have re-labeled it, re-defined it, and re-understood it. At first I called it adventure, and it pulled me with irresistable, joyous, persistance, ( that’s labeled “nostalgia” now). although too young to legally drive, I would accompany an older friend on his trips to neighboring cities for repairs for his business, and drive through the nights while he “slept”, up against the passenger door of the pickup. At the age of 18, I procured my “big-truck” license, and set out to criss cross the continent. I logged over 4 million miles, from the impossible cold of northern Canada, to the impossible heat of northern Mexico…from the Atlantic ocean to the Pacific ocean. Through the farmyards, factories, steel mills, lumberyards, and endless towns and cities. Through the lives of thousands of prolitarians. My youthful optimism was slowly dulled by something tangible yet unspoken, in the faces, behind the eyes, of those thousands. And I began to re-label my quest, I began to admit I did not understand it, for it seemed that I should long since have discovered the source of my juvenile joy. And I questioned my peers, and they mostly parroted ” it’s love” that you seek, a nebulous commodity supposedly owned by the one special person on a planet of millions whom will magically complete you as you reciprocally complete them, (and they magically probably live nearby). Seriously?

With renewed confusion, and dwindling optimism, I continued my journey, but alas, only dissapointment. And now my peers said “well, love is just a metaphor… satisfaction, that’s what you seek!”  Long story short, I climbed the social ladders, I got all the “stuff” even the T-shirts, I collected all the supposed pieces of the satisfaction puzzle, and while my ego, and my “society” kept telling me I had arrived, my spirit told me , through my deteriorating body, that I was on the wrong track.   For some reason, when I hit “the wall”, I did not collapse, but rather, dragged myself to the top so as to glimpse what lay hidden beyond.

But there was no Nirvana, not even redemption…there was only Me.

I began to drift laterally, I began to challenge my fears (ego). I began to build a shell of contempt between myself and the “wasteland of knowledge”. My relentless search for the face of “love” had driven me countless times over the rock strewn path between the Storehouse of Conventional Wisdom, and the School of Hard Knocks. At great length I found her…at the “bottom”. Now, the Bottom is not what you might expect, there is no quaint roadside cafe, or even a signpost. The bottom is simply a point in time & space where your heart & your ego fight to a standstill. A damp blanket of indifference descends over you, but finally you can SEE. When at last I saw the face of love, I cried…then laughed with maniacal despair…then cried again, for I realized I had seen her before, in a thousand places, in a thousand faces…and I saw why nobody actually wanted her, yet all claimed that they did. For she was ALL of those labels,… satisfaction, nostalgia, pride, joy…she was simply HEART, she was nothing more than “positive co-creation”,…BUT NOTHING LESS!  She was NOT sacrafice, martyrdom, c0-dependance, mutual completion, and not “for sale!” And suddenly it all made sense, actual “love”, (positive c0-creation) obliterated any chance of tyranny, hierarchy, monarchy, monopoly, Big Dog, Chief,or beuracracy…but it required (self) responsibility…so the conventional (convenient) LIE of love could be easily sold. I was stunned, no wonder the world was such an ocean of pretending…but how could the pandenmic scam have been sold, for centuries?! and yet, I had just LIVED the scam, even while questioning everyone continuosly! It was as though everything REAL was a mystery, ego literally had a choke hold on our hearts. It felt hopeless, I could not trust more than one or two people that I knew. I grew a thicker shell around myself, frequenting the southwestern deserts, tying to reconcile a solitary existance…but my heart could not bear it, so at length, I dragged myself back into the ocean of 40 watt humanity.My only plan was to follow my heart, and hope to find a few others at the base of the wall who had begun to hear their hearts.

The actuality was daunting yet fascinating,…easily over half of the population, the prolitarians, still heard the whisper of their hearts…collectively they formed an astonishing “sleeping giant”. It occurred to me, that with the help of another giant, the “silicon giant”, a black sheep, a troublemaker, a Prolitarian Pioneer, may be able to instigate a groundswell, or “heartswell”, of awakening.

The supposed “material” aspects of what we term “life”break down into roughly three categories…”actuality”, “reality”, and “truth”. Actuality is “what IS”, “Reality” is what we call “life on earth”, and “truth” is merely a series of transient agreements bouncing around between the two.

Now understanding the aspects of the Game of Man, I began to understand why the giant slumbered. Knowledge afforded me a new quiet optimism …I re-joined capitalism with a wiser eye and and less confused spirit. I thought perhaps a bridge, or positive concession could be discovered between “modernity” and Realness. I built a small continental transportation company, and once again moved through the lives, and worldviews, of the sleeping prolitarians. I was amazed at the extent to which ego had gagged and blinded their hearts. The “concept” of competition had trampled the instinct of co-operation…and worse, the two had become barely indistinguishable, replaced by a randomized phenomenon I call “co-operative stupidity”. This is the pandemic neurosis by which one KNOWINGLY  participates in a stupid action or agreement. Sound familiar? Not surprisingly, peoples’ impulse to co-operate (Heart) is slightly stronger than their need to be REAL. While the mechanics behind this phenomenon would fill a few more books, I digress,…my mission was to discover a tool/method/model of allowing/remembering/living in some REAL fashion either in unison with modernity, or, in spite of it.The relentless murmer of hearts, seeping through the gag of Ego, had manifested as labels/mentalities either safe or extreme. Not too surprisingly, a feast or famine flavour trademarked the cellular awareness of the wont to be real.

One one hand were the endless, pedestrian actions supported by “convention”…the “Green” scam, the “Eco” scam, the “Energy” scam, all specifically designed help people pretend they were “being real”.Conversely, there were the radicals and the extremists…the hoarders, escapists, preppers, survivalists, off-grinders and revolutionists. And, as usual, these fell squarely into categories of “ineffective” and “impractical”

Where was the fun?, where was the inspiration?, the co-operation? Why was there nothing in the middle that served the hearts, the hands, the history, of the common man? Why should the world need to either explode or implode for one to experience a life based in common sense and natural (Not “normal”) action? It was, of course, the cute, albeit ridiculous, thing convention does by pretending inverse definition…thier ‘sanity”, is obviously insane.

At length, I opted for help…Iwent to the street corner where Common Sense was cleaning windshields for pocket change, and said “hop in”.We had a very long talk, punctuated by bouts of reminiscent glee…he was a fascinating refugee.Ultimately, and obviously, he concluded, “you’re gonna have to build it, you’re gonna have to name it, you’re gonna have to make it OK to be real “in the middle”. I knew he was right, although I had hoped for a bit of a likeminded gang at the outset. Through decades of living research into the “human condition”, I had postulated, then articulated, a life model I call Spiritfarming. This evolved from the discovery that our basic state is Freedom, Not “security”, and our PRIMARY goal is is to build a personal “Spiritfarm’…a personal condition/environment of freedom. Not freedom next Tuesday, or when the cows come home, or when we get some various abilities or permissions…but NOW, “Freedom on tap” you might say, whatever that means to You. I went on to discover that the model consists merely of “moving easily and repeatedly between freedom and joy”. While this may seem confusing, it must be remembered that freedom is your BASIC state, therefore it is your position of relief from everything, yes, even joy. Spiritfarming may be seen as the original “Ego Assassin”. Spirit farming accepts that “man” has become the epitome of duality…half intuition half intellect, half natural half normal, half modernity half history. It followed that a spirit farmer takes the  good with the good with the good, and ignores the bad. He/she uses what works, and ignores what doesn’t. In other words, a spirit farmer follows his/her affinity, whether mystical, modern, or marginal…the goal is not to change the world, but rather, to identify, claim, and sustain his/her place the world as it is.

” Alternative Lifestyle” is about to grow up… it’s about to become Alternative “LIVING”

Prolitarianpioneer.com is shining a light on some ghosts…

We are illuminating them and naming them, with the intent that they may live again…

We are the “blacksheep and the bulldogs”

We are seeking the “actuality” behind the labels and dogma

We are asking all the embarrassing and “real” questions

So what does “alternative lifestyle”…or “quality of life”…or “modern homesteading” (etc, etc, etc ) mean to YOU?