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Author: JRL

Just a Second: acrostic

Just hold on a minute;
Only one thought allowed at a time.
Have a little mercy, why don’t you?
Nobody likes to be pushed.

Look at the mess you’re making;
It’s almost like you want to be a pest.
True, the squeaky wheel gets the grease, but can’t you be more
Zen about it?
Even if things progressed at the speed of
Now, would you be happy?
Believe me, you really wouldn’t like the other speed.
Everything will work its way out. That’s how
Reality works.
Go figure.

10 APR 2025

© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.

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Anger is an Energy

Just being angry isn’t enough. In fact, anger alone is the absolute worst way to approach any situation. I get it: there are myriad things popping up almost constantly in this world that can make you upset, disturbed, disgruntled, out of sorts, and irritated to the point of distraction. And as John Lydon so eloquently put it, “anger is an energy.” But just seeing red is no better than only viewing the world as black or white. It may get you through the battle, but it won’t help you win the war. it’s not a long-term or really sustainable solution. Because anger is horribly hard on your system. Ignorance and even bliss can numb you deeply enough you don’t recognize the self-preservation signals your body and mind are genetically programmed to give you. But anger, like uncontrolled diabetes, eats away at your psyche, at your body, until before you know it, you’re old, tired, and feeble with frustration at not being able to get over it. Whatever it is.

If you’re going to fight, flee, or freeze, anger convinces you that leaving or shutting down is the least favorable option. When you’re angry, your muscles tense up, your heart rate and pressure build, and your normally ADHD scanning mechanisms narrow to a razor-fine focus. You’re ready to dive into the fray. At the same time, anger doesn’t give you appropriate weapons for every battle. In some situations, it really is true that when you only have a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. But it isn’t. And you know it. You may get loud and puff yourself up to be as intimidating as possible, but the fact is, as you learn when seriously playing heavy metal music, that volume is not an ultimately effective substitute for power, even if your knobs go up to eleven.

But we can’t help getting angry, right? And so much of the vitriol we find ourselves brimming with is really just disgust at ourselves. When we meet the enemy, and it is us, we are merciless. We beat ourselves up for letting ourselves into the corner we’re backed into, we harangue ourselves for believing in the bullshit yet again, we harangue ourselves for ignoring the warning signs and red flags indicating we’re once again on the eve of destruction. Worst of all, we get upset about getting upset. After all, the mystical traditions all tell you to let it go. Let go, let God. Attach yourself to the process and not the results. It’s not about you. Just breathe. Breathe in Jesus, breathe out Satan. Forget about the wrongs done to you and focus on the wrongs you’ve done to others. All great advice, when you’re not blown up like a pufferfish and imagining yourself wielding a cast iron skillet in a dance with someone’s convenient skull. OK, maybe you don’t get that extreme. I don’t, really; at least outwardly. But you get the idea. Not particularly helpful.

Your nature and nurture both play a role in this. In my own case, throughout my childhood I never witnessed any two people de-escalating conflict. Regardless of whether the pot was watched, it came to an inevitable boil and nobody reached to turn off the stove. My exposure to playground politics, sports, and family dynamics all served to instill in me both a great amount of fear and trepidation and a generous helping of passive-aggressive response mechanisms – sarcasm, dark humor, sullen sulking, isolation, and inappropriate laughter. The bubble, bubble, toil, and trouble in my external circumstances were nothing compared to the cauldron of dangerous chemicals brewing inside me. Worst of all, when you work yourself into that state, you become very susceptible to persuasion. Just witness a bull fight. The angrier and more frustrated the bull becomes, the easier it is for the picador to sneak up with the spear. The more inevitable the matador’s rapier becomes a permanent fixture behind the shoulder blades. When you’re angry, you can be led. You can be misled. And it doesn’t really matter which direction that leadership takes you. If all you know is escalation, all roads lead uphill. Unfortunately, gaining altitude in that way doesn’t necessarily give you any kind of perspective or wider view.

There are so many advantages to moving beyond anger. But so few concrete examples of what that looks like to the untrained (or angry) eye. We talk about peace, love, understanding, and compassion, but these are feelings we’re not all that ready to handle. Because they involve surrender – something that anger sees as the anathema. The last thing an angry person wants to do is compromise, cooperate, or coexist. Before we can communicate as equals, we need to get back to the full spectrum of colors and ease out of the red zone.

Who is demonstrating those skills in the wider world? Even the noblest among us seem to rely on an undercurrent of pointed humor to navigate a sea seemingly chock-full of flaming, cavorting assholes with no redeeming features. When they leave the room we mumble under our breath, roll our eyes, and say, “There but for the grace of god, go I.” That’s not an interdependent world view. It’s not even anywhere near the middle ground.

We try to “channel” that negative energy into positive works, right? But without solid, tangible experience with how that happy place feels to live in, we don’t really even know when we get there. Ultimately, we’re still hog-tied to the results, useless babbling that the ends justify the means. And we stay mean. Not in our words, or outward deeds, or even physical expressions – although Paul Ekman would probably disagree.

That anger, if we let it stew on the burner long enough, becomes a roux of hatred. And if you start with a burnt roux, it doesn’t matter how much water you add or how much butter you fold in after the fact, the gumbo you come up with is going to taste bitter. That’s the danger. We need to not control our anger, or deny it, or bury it. We need to find ways to use it for fuel, not as an ingredient in the stew.

So how does that work? You can’t say you’re not going to get angry, not going to let feelings of hate well up in you like acid reflux. That will happen. It’s as inevitable, as they used to say on the radio show The Shadow, as a guilty conscience. What you can and must do is examine some underlying conditions. Something doesn’t “make” you angry. You choose to “be” angry. To let anger at some situation external to yourself (usually) become the way you choose to define yourself. Usually when that happens, like those who do not suffer fools gladly, we are greatly troubled by the presence of reflective surfaces in our environment. Because anger is not pleasant to look at it, any more than it is to feel. And hate? Besides being the only way to surrender control of your being to something you consider an object (the focus of your hate), it is the only way to absolutely destroy anything beautiful in yourself and the world.

A hateful seed grows only thorns. An angry bulb sprouts into a poison flower.

Anger is an energy, all right. But it’s not an efficient, healthy, or economically viable fuel source. You can run your car on it for a little while, but sooner than later the reckoning comes due.

As Douglas Hofstader put it, it’s a record that contains the frequencies to destroy the record player.

10 APR 2025

© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.

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Where is the Rebel Base?

Albert Camus in his book-length essay, The Rebel, suggests that there is a fundamental difference between revolution and rebellion. It’s not, as some say, that a revolution is simply a rebellion you win, and a rebellion is a failed revolution. That’s far too simplistic, I think.

No, Camus said that revolution is the mechanism for ultimately replacing one system of government – or control, power brokering, or hierarchy, with another one of your choosing. One that will eventually, because of the very nature of hierarchies, become just as heinous and unjust and trifling as the regime it displaced. As such, revolution has a finite, measurable, and in that sense, limited, goal and outcome.

Rebellion, on the other hand, is much more nebulous. It is concerned with a certain level of disobedience – whether civil or otherwise – designed to disrupt the wheels of power altogether, to throw that locomotive steaming full-speed ahead toward a bigger, brighter, and more “prosperous” future, off the rails, or at least slow down its evitable inching toward selective oblivion. When you revolt, you overthrow. When you rebel, you resist. Revolution is never at its core even the least bit anarchic. Rebellion by contrast has some anarchy in it. You want to tear at the power structure, but not quite pull it down. Because leveling the current government requires installing another one in its place. As the parable goes, when you sweep clean your house of demons, you make it terribly inviting for another set to move in. And who knows how much worse that new lot will be, even if they look cherubic at first glance?

Resistance is the starting point for both activities. The only difference is the end game. Do you really want to take control? If you do, how will you determine the distribution of power? it takes a lot of level heads to map out a system of checks and balances, and as the founding “fathers” of the United States found out, a great deal of compromise. To some, of course, compromise is a dirty word. It implies if not selling your soul, then at least renting, leasing, or sharecropping it. But like the Buddha discovered in his spiritual quest, the answer lies in neither extreme. Both asceticism and excess have their limitations. Until they meet as equals, conservatives and liberals will broker no truce, find no peace, build no coalitions. The secret to successful negotiations is not winner-take-all. it’s not win-lose; it’s win-win. Because in the long run, there are no sides. There is only the whole, of which each diverse, contrasting, diametrically opposed, and seemingly absolute dissimilar is an important, integral, and essential part. it’s not a question of being dependent or independent. Those are the viewpoints of childhood and adolescence. Adulting is about recognizing, honoring, accepting, and exalting interdependence. As Thich Nhat Hanh put it, acknowledging our true state of “Inter-Being.”

So ultimately, both revolution and rebellion are against the self, right? And how, as Shakespeare’s Hamlet wondered, do we traverse that landscape, given that the Almighty canon is raised against self-slaughter? When we hurt others, we hurt ourselves. As a result, being kind and compassionate and warm and loving and giving and forgiving toward others is the ultimate in selfish action. So why is it so hard? Particularly in those nations where self-reliance, independence, and personal pride are so all-fired important? Is there really such a thing as a self-made man? No. No matter how tall we may seem, all of us are “standing on the shoulders of giants.”

So who is our rebellion, our resistance, really against? To be honest, it’s mostly against that nagging sense of personal responsibility that haunts us even as we try to shift the blame, pass the buck, or avoid recognizing our own presence and participation in every bad decision we’ve ever made. We justify our lack of courage, our selfish hoarding, the me-o-centric world view that results in the score of me, one, everyone, zero. There is no length to which we will not go to find a cause or reason larger than ourselves that explains why we are the success or failure we imagine ourselves to be. Who is to blame? Anyone but me. What needs to change? The world. When will things improve? When a savior takes the reins and leads us home.

But the truth is that we’re already home. There is no further, distant shore to which we need travel. We know this, of course. When you pack up your trunk and remove yourself to a different city, climate, country, or culture, your essential nature doesn’t change. Only the externals are different. The way most of us travel illustrates that in photo-realistic detail. As Americans, we want to stay in the English-speaking sectors. Interact with shopkeepers and locals who’ve bothered to learn our language. Eat at the McDonald’s restaurant down the well-lit, clean-swept, and germ-free boulevards of our foreign destinations.

We want to change the world, but so it looks more like us. Acts like us. Even though there really isn’t a “we” that exists in the safe, consistent, and ultimately predictable way we think it does.

Who was it that said the first step of any public revolution is the private revolution? Marx, I think, but it’s been a while.

Where does the personal revolution begin? And does it need to be a revolution, or a rebellion? And when it comes to that, like Marlon Brando’s Johnny in The Wild Ones, when asked what he was rebelling against, will you say, “What’ve you got?”

09 APR 2025

© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.

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Gaining Experience Points

Assuming that simply being alive and making any kind of progress is a never-ending hamster wheel, an ouroboros where the outcome you worked diligently toward is swallowed up in the gaping maw of the next problem, challenge, or opportunity, there’s a certain point in any cycle where it seems unlikely that you’ll make it back around to the starting point. Think of it like that moment when the tilt-a-whirl hits its maximum spin and you hit the metal side of the car with a lurch in your stomach that anticipates but doesn’t quite expect the reverse cycle to kick off.

More often than not, those pause points or moments of relative uncertainty function as epiphany enablers. Like a song in a Broadway musical, they introduce plot devices that take you from one point-of-view (like you’re really mortal enemies) to one diametrically opposed (like now you’re madly in love), without the benefit of developmental dialog and/or theatrical business in between.

Given that, and in the absence of any solid way to measure evolution, how do you actually know you’re making any kind of progress whatsoever? Do the problems get smaller, does your calm take an increasingly larger percentage of your time, are your vital signs like blood pressure, sugar, and activity antibodies more in line with acceptable standards from reputable medical authorities?

A lot of the world’s spiritual traditions suggest that you don’t really know you’re making any headway until you stop thinking about making headway. The best of them even say that making progress is the easiest way to know you’re not making progress. In Soto Zen, for example, the practice is the outcome. You don’t meditate to transform yourself into an enlightened being, a bodhisattva, because you already are one. Just sitting, shikantaza in Japanese, is the enlightenment of just practicing. Shunryu Suzuki said we’re all perfect, we could just use a little improvement. Mac Rebennack might have agreed, saying “You’re on the right trip, but in the wrong car.” In any case, the trick is to arrive without travelling, right?

But what does that really mean? If there’s nowhere to go, and time is mere artificial construct, a house of mirrors reflecting forward and backward in the House of Now, then why are so many of us interested in self-improvement and self-awareness, and so battle-worn resisting self-interest, self-doubt, self-aggrandizement, and self-pity?

Self-help is a mega-million dollar industry built on the history of human fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of death, fear of not being enough, fear of dying without living. As if you had a choice. UG Krishnamurti, the other Krishnamurti, said we are all asking a question we already are able to answer. We just don’t like the answer – and want somebody else to tell us we don’t have to do any work on ourselves by ourselves. Once you stop asking questions, he said, you no longer need any answers. You just live. Until you don’t.

Do we really want to live forever? What for? What do you think you’ll get done in the next two to three hundred years that you haven’t managed to screw up already? We don’t want to learn, to become wise, to reach enlightenment. Because when we do, all the great religious traditions tell us we become one with the divine. That’s what atonement (at-one-ment) really means, after all. You can’t really take the salt back out of salt water once you’ve dissolved it. If you could, what’s the point? Isn’t that like imagining you get more than one once in a lifetime opportunity?

Once you get the chance to level up, some traditions say the best course is to hold off on that advancement until everyone else gets there too. But if you’ve ever played Dungeons & Dragons, you understand that the only way to not keep accumulating experience points is to die. It’s only when you’re dead that the rest of your squad has an opportunity to catch up with you. And some beings take a lot longer than others and gain points in different ways. We don’t all regenerate hit points or magic in the same way, nor do we advance levels at the same rate. In that respect, we’re not all created equal. Each of has our own set of skills, our selected bag of tricks, that give us a myriad of complex, complementary, and often contradictory means to accomplish our objectives. We don’t even necessarily have the same objectives – except of course to remain alive at the end of the quest.

You go with what you know. And you go into what you don’t know. And as is often said, unless you know where you’re going, there’s not much point in choosing who you need along for the journey. In the same way you don’t measure the quality of a goldfish by its ability to climb a tree, you don’t need an elephant to help you on a long sea voyage.

Sometimes, though, it’s the skills you don’t know you need in your party that make all the difference. Once again, Dunning-Kruger plays a part. If you don’t know anything, you don’t even know what you don’t know. So how do you know who should lead you, or when you need to lead, or follow?

You get to roll the dice. Isn’t that enough for now?

08 APR 2025

© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.

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A Wick, Awake, Awoke, A Wake

Does a candle concern itself with how much of its body and substance remains as it burns? Is the wick bothered with its lifespan, ever shortening as it turns to ash, smoke, and light?

Are we really that much different? Aleister Crowley among many other things, some much more cohesive and comprehensible than others, once said that if you love life, you mustn’t waste time – as that was the only true measure we had for it. But is that true? Our bodies certainly keep track of time we spend asleep and often use that aggregate sum against us. But do we actually have a way of counting the hours and minutes we spend not sleeping through this life? And further, when we break down the hours we spend with eyes open, do we have meaningful subtotals for the time we consciously are paying attention to the details of what is happening around us?

Are we in fact “woke” whenever we are awake? Merriam-Webster defines “awake” simply as “not being asleep.” But we slip into other territory when we consider that it also suggests as synonyms being “alive, aware, cognizant, conscious, and sensible.” These words per MW mean “having knowledge of something,” but awake implies that one has become alive to something, right? And if you’re alive to the injustice happening around you, to social prejudices and inequities, to wrongs committed in the name of right and might that should otherwise be left to history’s sad chapters of hiccups or roadblocks to evolution, then what exactly is the opposite? To be “dead”? In a way, yes. Or if not dead, then at least very, very dull and lifeless, unable to be aroused from the slumber of convenience, custom, or culture.

Krishnamurti suggested that if one is stupid, it is meaningless to run around thinking or saying, “I’m going to become smart, I’m going to gain wisdom.” That is tantamount to repeatedly running your head into a brick wall. It’s impossible, according to the Dunning-Kruger effect, to recognize that you are not intelligent or knowledgeable about a subject without knowing something about the subject in the first place. In other words, you may know that you are dumb, but exactly how dumb, and about what? You have no basis for knowing.

The only way, Krishnamurti suggests, is not by working harder or studying more diligently or even drilling yourself with subject matter – unless you start with the right subject. And that’s the tricky part, right? To become smart, you need to examine the areas and ways in which you are stupid. To truly understand your limitations, Dirty Harry-style. Until you know, really Know, how and why you think the way you do, it’s impossible to even consider the possibility of changing that. You can walk around with your eyes open, but unless you understand what you’re looking at, and why it draws your attention, you’re not really awake, are you?

For that reason, being mindful of what’s going on around is usually of limited value. You’re not awake, you’re attending a wake, reading a Kaddish for someone you don’t even really know, observing that you are observing without really knowing what you’re looking at.

There are a lot of self-help “gurus” out there giving advice on the best place to start this “journey to awakening.” Let’s be honest. Most of their suggestions are always a little obtuse. They suggest that lighting your inner candle is like switching on a lightbulb by flipping a switch. The wiring that supports such an activity is hidden in the walls, in the same way a candle’s wick is concealed within a pillar of wax. You can get yourself out of the dark with a flick of a finger or the striking of a match, but you’re only opening your eyes. You still need to get out of bed and walk to the library that is life all around you. You have to actually connect – and by doing so, let go of the idea of self and recognize that anything you know is possibly by being known, anything that can happen does happen, and everything that is, is really part of a much larger nothing.

I read this morning a quote, “Don’t judge someone because they sin differently than you.” Never mind that some “sins” are considered much worse than others. Pedophilia is more wicked than simply cheating on your mate, right? Murder is higher on the heinous scale than letting your dog do their business on your neighbor’s lawn. Right? Never mind that the first step in even considering this proposition at all is becoming aware of, recognizing, measuring, and taking full responsibility for, your own sins – however you define that word (and we all apply varying definitions and names for it). That’s what being truly “woke” is actually about. Not being able to see and articulate what’s wrong with other people, or the world, but being able to accept your part in that. Imagining that if there is something wrong with the way the universe operates (or freely exists, if you don’t believe in anything so grandiose and engineered as operation), that it is completely due to the way you are. Being awake is a willingness to explore that error and correct it. And by doing so, saving the world.

07 APR 2025

© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.

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Tasters’ Choice

A light bulb glows because it’s fighting the power coursing through it. The harder it struggles, the brighter the illumination.

That’s the real magic of resistance. You don’t dispel shadows until you can taste the dark, and despite how delicious and overwhelmingly soothing, how easily it intoxicates your mind and makes you forget the sun even exists, you choose to spit it out.

We’re taught from birth to comply, to learn and appreciate certain boundaries. The limits of good taste, of honest work, of propriety and grace. At the same time, we’re shown an ideal – whatever its name or what it looks like, it’s a something that is boundless, limitless, usually invisible, and absolutely beyond the reach of cause and effect. It is supernatural, divine, almighty because it transcends beginning – and therefore, knows no end.

Of course, that makes it an illusion. That makes us yearn for something beyond space, past time, out in the great chasm of nothing, a part of ourselves that is like the thing we made up and have no proof has, does, will, or could possibly exist.

Permanence. As if that kind of power, if we had it even for a split second, is something we could wield, touch, use, or even comprehend. Look around you. This too shall pass. Mountains crumble, dynasties topple, governments and institutions fall into dust and rubble. Even a diamond, once a dinosaur trapped in an aspic of tar, compressed in the earth to an anthracite, then squeezed even further into a shiny piece of glass, is on its way elsewhere. There are no destinations, only journeys.

And no kind of travel is without hardship. That’s one of the reasons it’s so essential to experience places other than the one in which you were born, that safe cocoon that shields you, like an insulating sheath.

Hardship is the beginning of resistance. It is necessary for growth, for compassion, for understanding our interdependence.

Thinking creates the spark. You are the kindling. What are you saving that fuel for?

05 APR 2025

© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.

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