It occurred to me the other day that I’ve been eating, breathing, and shitting progressive politics for almost two straight years. Ever since Bernie declared his candidacy I have been Facebook-activisting as hard as I can.

Two years of sharing articles.
Two years of reading thinkpieces.
Two years of arguing with faceless morons on the Internet.

Two years of heated words. Two years of lost “friends.” Two years of dank memes and shitposts. Two years of fleeting acquaintances, of trying to make common cause with waterheads and conspiracy theorists.

Two years of trying to find something in the faceless mass of humanity worth saving.

I long ago passed the point where I was doing anybody any good. I know from the site stats that almost nobody bothers to read this blog, so it, in itself, is achieving nothing. I know that anyone I could have possibly swayed through my impassioned arguments/lunatic rants has been swayed, was swayed a year ago — and those who could not have simply unfollowed or unfriended me, or I have done the same to them.

And yet, I persist. It is objectively doing no good, but I persist. Why? Because these things need to be said? Yes, they do, but they are being said, by people with more time and attention to research and write than I.  People with larger audiences, people more able to argue their points intelligently.

This is not my role.  I don’t have the focus to be sufficiently informed about current events to say anything original.  My sphere of concern is the spirit, the gnosis, the Light.  These things intersect the Real, yes, but those are not what I have been speaking of for quite some time.  I have been pretending to be a pundit, and as a pundit … I am a passable prophet.

I started this blog in order to speak my truth, to tell you, the reader, what I have learned about the Light and the Way of the Paladin.  I have lost sight of that goal.  I have allowed the toxins that run deep in the sphere of politics to spill into my wellspring, and my garden has suffered as a consequence.  It is apparent to me that I must retire from the battlefield, at least for now — for what I am doing, have been doing, these last few months is of benefit to nobody.

I still believe in the rightness of progressive politics.  I am very afraid for what my mother country is becoming.  But what I am doing is not working, not for me, nor for anyone else.  I must regroup.  I must recover.  I must remember who I am.  The “Bohemian Paladin.”

My joie de vivre has gone walkabout.  I need to find it again.

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