#also our brains are not wired to live without physical effort it makes you crazy

[brontes]

I had a thought today about all that vampires lose in the twilight lore. Sure sure they’re fast and strong and invulnerable BUT they lose the chance to earn things because of that. The Cullens are rich but like…that just happens when you invest for three centuries. They can lift incredible amounts of weight…but just by nature and not because they’ve built up to it. They build projects and make paintings and learn…but they will always lack the satisfaction that comes from managing those accomplishments amidst the regular demands of life. Edward was seventeen…he never got the chance to earn anything by the sweat of his brow or the burning of the midnight oil.

Beyond just the bloodlust, they miss out on the regular daily challenges that make our time and pleasure meaningful. Something that is easily overlooked by teenagers reading a love story but honestly something heartbreaking to contemplate.

[exxar1]

Episode 4: Waking Up

11/14/2020

Good morning, folks. As I write this, I’m sitting in my living room, listening to an Apple music channel of classic Christmas carols, while late morning sunshine streams through my front window. I have just finished putting laundry in the dryer and washing the few dishes in the sink that piled up during the week. My McDonald’s iced coffee is almost gone, and I’m feeling ready to face the day.

I have a couple hours before I have to start getting ready for work, so there’s not a lot of time to hammer out this blog entry. I don’t have a lot to say for this episode, but I have been feeling somewhat strange for the last couple weeks. Not ‘strange’ in the physical sense, but ‘strange’ as in ‘there’s something happening with me that I can’t quite explain’.

And now I’m going to try to explain what I’m talking about.

Per my usual work routine, I spend 5 ½ hours every morning, Monday through Friday, in the lobby of Walmart, greeting customers and making sure everyone is wearing their face mask. And, as usual, I have nothing but my own thoughts and the occasional conversation with co-workers to keep me company. But mostly just my own thoughts. And boy, my brain lately will just not shut down – or even go into standby mode. It seems that all I can do lately is just think, think, think. Here’s a sample of what tumbles through my head from morning until night every day:

·      Is the ballot recounts for the national election close to being done? Will Trump retain his presidency (I hope), or will America finally get its first female president? (Yes, you read that correctly.)

·      Spencer Klavan of the “Young Heretics” podcast so damn good looking, and the fact that he’s also a “Super Mario Bros” fan in addition to being ivy league educated and possessing near-savant level human intelligence has forced me to finally admit that I have had a massive crush on him for almost four months now. (I just wish he wasn’t such an avid gym rat. That’s such a turnoff. Well, that, and the fact he already has a boyfriend.)

·      I need to start working on the story ideas that came to me a few weeks ago. There’s two really good ones that I know would make excellent short stories, or, at the very least, novellas. One’s about a superhero called The Red Mask, and the other is about cats and dogs that are created with a sophisticated AI that allows them to look, feel and behave exactly like real animals but without all the maintenance and mess that pet owners have to put up with (such as feeding them, combing them, bathing them, walking them, training them, cleaning up their poop, etc.).

·      Oh! A circuit court judge in Georgia just ordered a bunch of ballots to be thrown out in that state’s recount!

·      Spencer Klavan liked one of my tweets about Young Heretics!!!!

·      Should I have McDonald’s for lunch or the apple I brought with me? The apple. Definitely the apple. Need to stay healthy.

·      I can’t believe all the idiots on social media that not only voted for Biden/Harris but actually think that he will make a good president. What the hell is wrong with them???? Anyone with half a brain can easily recognize what Trump has done for this country, and it scares the shit out of me that the radical left (capital ‘R’, capital ‘L’) just might get their foot in the door of the White House. What the fuck is wrong with half of America right now??? It’s all that “white fragility”, “systemic racism”, “white privilege”, “black lives matter” bullshit!!! How the fuck did that horseshit gain such powerful traction in this country????Robin Deanglo and Ibram X Kendi and all their pathetic followers are so full of shit they ought to open their own manure factory!!!!

·      Yay! The 2021 “Super Mario Bros” and “Star Trek” wall calendars I ordered on Amazon have shipped! They’ll be here Tuesday!

·      And that reminds me, I need to start working on the photo calendars that I give to my family every year for Christmas. Maybe I should do that this Saturday morning before my shift at Check City.

·      Oh. Time for my break. Yay! Coffee!

And…repeat. That. All of that. Over and over all day long – creative story thoughts, political thoughts, work thoughts, checking my phone three times an hour to review the latest posts on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram to stay on top of all the latest news and current events that serve to fuel my new woke self. Texting friends and family about this and that. On and on and on...

Hhmmm. My new woke self.

The other day, as this new thought occurred to me, I mentally reviewed everything that’s happened to me this year, everything that I wrote about in that first blog episode. I also thought about my recent self-examination of my whole life up to this point, the stuff I covered in episodes 2 and 3 of this blog. Then I thought back over the last two weeks: the sudden and unexpected passing of Aaron; his memorial service that I made an emergency trip home to Idaho to attend; and, finally, this new, strange…’wokeness’, for lack of a better term, that I now find myself in.

I honestly don’t know how to precisely describe it. I’ve been trying all this week to come up with apt, specific words and/or phrases, and then, finally, I thought of something. I’m a huge fan of the reboot of “Battlestar: Galactica” that was done by Ronald D Moore on the SyFy channel in 2004. It’s been a few years since I last binged all 4 seasons of that terrific show, but I was thinking about it the other day as my mind wandered, and it suddenly occurred to me what this new ‘woke’ state that I’m in feels like: the Cylon sleeper agents (who looked and acted like real humans) that were suddenly awakened to their true nature.

Yeah, I’m not kidding. Yes, I know how that sounds, but let me explain. I really feel like that, somewhere deep in the core of my brain, a metaphorical ‘switch’ was flipped from ‘off’ to ‘on’ along about late August or early September of this year. The world around me did not change, but my perception of it – as well as my perception of my place in it – did fundamentally change. I realized this week that for pretty much all my life I’ve been coasting through it. Everything that I’ve done and accomplished took no real effort or sacrifice on my part. Everything after high school pretty much just happened naturally. I decided to join the Army on a whim. When that didn’t work out, I came back home and enrolled in college. I spent 4 ½ years doing what I loved – reading, writing, discussing reading and writing – and I came out with a Bachelor’s in English. Again, no real effort. I coasted through on my natural talents. The only real work was in the core classes that I needed for my degree, like math or biology. But those were few. And then, after college, instead of putting my degree to use, I just settled for a day job in retail and then, later, in an elementary school. And then, in 2012, on a whim, I quit my job and moved to Las Vegas. Once again, I found a cushy day job where I make really good money, and…then 2020 happened.

In other words, I’ve never been an active participant in my own life. I just kinda let everything happen and went with the flow. I even had this same attitude in high school and it drove my parents and teachers absolutely mad. I didn’t care about being valedictorian or captain of the sports teams or even being the best damn piano player this side of the Rockies. All that mattered was hanging out with my friends and making sure the VCR was set each week to record the newest episodes of “Star Trek: DS9” and “Star Trek: Voyager”. And, without consciously realizing it, that’s been my attitude for my whole damn life. I’ve never cared about the world beyond my own front door. If it didn’t affect my life directly, I never paid it any attention. That’s especially true for politics. No matter who sat in the White House, my life never changed. So I figured, why bother? I’m perfectly content to live a quiet, solitary existence, and the rest of the world can do its own thing.

Except that now I’m no longer content with my quiet, solitary existence. Something within me fundamentally changed this year, and there’s no going back.

I am awake. (But, unlike the Cylons, I’m not about to start murdering humans.) I’m certain that it was God’s hand that reached down to flip that invisible switch in my brain, but now that I have rejected my former sleeper state, I don’t know exactly what to do. For the last couple weeks, I have felt nervous; anxious; excited; jittery; like a live wire that’s been cut and is now flopping on the ground, shooting sparks and energy. I have to constantly resist the urge to grab total strangers off the street and shout at them to “Wake up!” The world around us is changing, and we can’t live as sleeper agents in our own lives. Everything that’s happened in 2020 is going to shape the future of this country and the lives of everyone in it, and no one can afford to not care and just keep living their quiet, solitary lives.

This is why I scream on social media about the stupid mask mandates, and the ‘lamestream’ media, and politics, and everything else that I’ve been ranting and raving about for nine months. And yes, I’m sure some of my friends think I’ve gone crazy, and more than a few have probably unfollowed me. I don’t mean to alienate folks, but I have to put this energy somewhere or I’ll go crazy.

One of biggest changes that I have noted is that I no longer have a desire to park in front of the TV in my time off. I still have a few regular shows that I watch each week, but my passion has turned to reading and podcasts. I renewed my Audible.com membership a few months ago, and I have started stockpiling audiobooks on various subjects: biographies of the Founding Fathers of America, non-fiction books on artificial intelligence and other new forms of technology, books on world history, western literature and Greek philosophy. (I recently began listening to a series of lectures from Boston University on Plato’s “Republic”). And, of course, the highlight of my week is a new episode of “Young Heretics” every Tuesday. (And no, it’s not just because of my crush on Spencer Klavan.) I also have started carving out an hour here and there each day to grab my laptop and write a few paragraphs of new stories or just jot notes for upcoming stories.

I really, honestly feel as if something is coming. I don’t know what, I don’t know when, but God woke me up for a reason. He’s got something planned for me, and I need to be ready for it. I’m pretty certain the world is not coming to an end anytime soon, and I’m sure 2021 will be a better year for our nation than 2020, no matter who’s sitting in the White House. And yes, Lord willing, this stupid “pandemic” will also be over sometime soon. For me, personally, 2020 was the year that changed me and got me ready for whatever is coming. A fire’s been lit under my ass, but I’m not sure where yet where I’m supposed to be jumping up and running to.

I am sure, however, that It’s time to be an active participant in my own life.

Hey mom and dad, I really do care now, and I really, truly want to do my best. I want only top grades and to be the captain of…something. It only took twenty-six? Twenty-seven years? But now I’m going to be that grade-A student that you and Mrs. Tutty and Mrs. Jones and Mr. Walker always knew I could be.

Better late than never, eh?

[luluuu-blog]

P.Jaisini-smiles-GIG-NYC2015

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE MANIFESTO GLEITZEIT 2015 BY STELLY RIESLING Featured below is another original art work of mine in homage to THE PIONEER OF INVISIBLE ART — PAUL JAISINI. Forget all the copycats that came after him — Master Paul Jaisini was the *FIRST* of a totally original concept and the *BEST*. My favorite thing about him is that he’s a voice, not an echo, which is quite rare. DISCLAIMER: This is for anyone who is a hater OR wishes to better understand me, what I’m all about, so you can decide whether I’m weird or normal enough for you — a kind of very loose manifesto, rushed and unrevised, full of raw uncut emotion that I don’t like to be evident in my writing as lately I prefer a more professional, formal style, so we can consider this a rough draft of the more polished writing to come when I have extra time. I might return to this text later and clean it up or break it into separate parts. Right now it’s a long-winded hot mess, so if you manage to make any sense of it, BIG PROPS TO YOU. lol …and if you manage to read it ALL, you have my solemn respect!!! in a day when reading has been reduced to just catchy headliners and short captions of images once in a while. The consequence of this one-liner internet culture is non-linear, tunnel thinking, which is baaaaaad. There lives among us a most enigmatic and charismatic creature named Paul Jaisini who led me into the wonderful world of art, not personally, but through descriptions of his artworks in essays written and published online by his friend, which painted the most fascinating images in my mind. Early on as a kiddo, I experimented with photography, simple point and shoot whatever looked attractive to me. Digital manipulation of my photographs with computer software followed… and somehow I learned useful drawing techniques along the way to combine existing elements with nonexistent ones, which allowed me to elevate the context for my ideas. Later, I started creating my own digital art from scratch for my friends and family as a favorite pastime. They would shower me with praise and repeatedly encouraged me to share my “different” vision with the rest of the world… it took a while and wasn’t easy to overcome the insecurity of not being good enough along with a gripping fear of being harshly criticized, but one day I woman-ed up and started publishing my work on the web, reminding myself that my livelihood didn’t depend on a positive reception. Paul Jaisini’s role in all this has been to not disgrace myself, even if what I do is just a hobby. And I would never do him and other genius artists the disservice of calling myself a professional because I know I’ll never be as good as any of the GIANTS of pre-modern history. Be the best or be nothing, no middle ground. People’s jealousy in the past, future and present over my obsessive love of Paul Jaisini, which they are well aware is purely plutonic, has caused them to despise the man and has made many relationships/friendships impossible for me. I refuse to have such people in my life because by harboring any negativity towards Paul, they unknowingly feel that way about me and express it to me. It’s their own problem for not realizing this. Paul’s new art movement, Gleitzeit, shaped me into the allegedly awesome girl I am today, giving my art more edge, more “sexy” because it refined my vision of the world and propelled me to attain the skills necessary to not dishonor my family name through tenacious pursuit of perfection. Since the beginning of my life, I attempted to depict what I saw in visual, musical and literal forms, but continuously failed without adequate training and determination. Paul Jaisini’s Gleitzeit was the answer to my prayers. Who I am today I owe mostly to him and his selfless ideals of the artverse that I’ve given unconditional loyalty to (he has this cool ability for hyper-vision to see whole universes, not itty bitty worlds, hence I call it an artverse instead of art world, with him in mind). So again, anyone who hates Paul Jaisini hates ME because, regardless of what he means to you, he is the most important person in my life for making me ME. The way a famous actor, dancer or singer inspires others to act, dance or sing, Paul inspired me to become a better artist, better writer, better everything. More people would understand if he was a household name because they’re wired to in society. But we’re inspiring each other all the time in our own little communities without being famous, so if someone has the ability to change even ONE person’s life immensely with creativity, it is a massive achievement. And passionate folks like myself are compelled to scream it from the cyber rooftops. So here I am. It’s whatever. Furthermore, I’d like to address here a few pressing matters in light of some recent drama brought on by both strangers and former friends. To start, I never judge the passions, interests or likes of others, which are often in my face all over the place, so likewise they have no right to judge any of mine. It is quite unfortunate and frustrating how very little understanding and education the majority of people have or want to have. Their logic is as primitive as a chipmunk when it comes to promotion of fine art on the web: “spamming, advertising, report!” It’s their own problem that they fail to understand what it’s about due to the distorted lens through which they see the world or inability to think for themselves; an inherent lack of perception or inquisitiveness. Well, guess what? Every single image, every animation, every video, every post dedicated to Mr. Paul Jaisini and “Gleitziet” (to elaborate: a revolutionary new art movement Paul founded with his partner in crime and personal friend, EYKG, who discovered him and believed in him more than anyone) has an important purpose. Every one of those things you run across is a piece of a puzzle, a move in a game, an inch down a rabbit hole; the deeper you go, the more interesting it gets; the more levels you pass, the more clues unfold, the greater the suspense and nearer the conclusion (yet further). You earn awesome rewards like enlightenment, spiritual revelations, truths, knowledge, wisdom and the most profound reward of all: the drive to improve yourself to the absolute maximum, so an unending, unshakable drive. People often make a wrong turn in this cyber game and go back a few levels or get stuck. Those that keep on pushing, however, will come to find the effort has been worth it. And what awaits you in the end of it all? The greatest challenge to beating the game: YOUR OWN MIND. You will be forced to let go of every belief you held before you had reached the last level, to completely alter your mindset and perception of the world, of life, of yourself. But by the time you’ve gotten to that point, it will be as easy as falling off a cliff! (It is a kind of suicide after all — death and rebirth of spirit.) Paul Jaisini does NOT, *I repeat* does NOT use mystery and obscurity to his advantage as a clever marketing ploy, no, he’s too next level for that with a consciousness so rich, he should wear a radioactive warning sign (he’ll melt your brain, best wear a tinfoil hat in his presence as I certainly would.) The statement he makes is loud and clear, hidden in plain site for those who take the time to connect the dots and have enough curiosity to fuel their journey into unknown territory (an open mind and flexible perception helps a lot). Actually, anyone with an IQ above 90 is sure to figure it out sooner or later. Hint: You don’t have to SEE an extraordinary thing with your eyes to know it exists, to understand it and realize its greatness — you can only feel it in your bone marrow, your spinal fluid, your heart and soul. The moment you do figure it out, as the skeleton key of the human soul, it will unlock the greatness and massive potential buried deep within, changing the doomed direction humanity is undoubtedly headed. I don’t speak in riddles, I speak in a clear direct way that intelligent humans will understand, so I’m counting on them. GIG is an international group of artists and writers that support Paul Jaisini’s Gleitzeit. We started off as an unofficial fan club of Jaisini in 1996, comprised of only 6 individuals spanning 3 countries, and eventually escalated in status to an official fan group across the entire globe. A decade later it had grown to hundreds of fans. Nearly another decade later, there are thousands. Let’s not leave out another delightful group of vicious haters that have been around for nearly as long as us since the late 90s and have also grown in impressive numbers. Now, for the record (and please write this one down because I’m sick of repeating myself), Paul Jaisini himself is not part of our group and has nothing to do with us. He loves and hates us equally for butchering his name and making him appear as a narcissistic nut-job in his own words. He casts hexes on us for the blinding flash we layer over the art that members contribute to GIG — “disgusting-police-lights, seizure-inducing-laser-lightshow, bourgeois-myspace-effects retarded-raver shit” in Paul’s words. Ahh, how we love his sweet-talking us. In a desperate attempt to please him, those among us who make the art and animations have spent countless hours and sleepless nights trying to solve a crazy-complex quantum-physics type of equation = how to not create tacky or tasteless content. He does fancy some of it now, we got better, that’s something! In the reason stated below, our mission just got out of hand at some point. What little is known about Paul Jaisini, even in all this time, is he’s a horrible perfectionist who slaughtered hundreds of innocent babies — I mean — artworks of remarkable beauty created by his own right hand (mostly paintings, some watercolors and drawings). He’s a fierce recluse who wants nothing to do with anyone or anything in life. But those few of us who know of an incredible talent he possesses (one could go as far as calling it a superpower), could not allow him to live his life without the recognition he FUCKING DESERVES more than any artist out there living today and, arguably, yesterday. We use whatever means necessary to reach more people, lots of flash and razzle-dazzle to lure them into our sinister trap of a higher awareness. Mwahaha! The visual boom you’ve witnessed in both cyber and real worlds, that is GIG’s doing — two damn decades of spreading an art virus — IVA. InVisibleArtitis… or a drug as in Intravenous Art. It’s whatever you want it to be, honey. Our Gleitzeit International Group (GIG) started off innocently enough and gradually spiraled out of control to fight the haters, annoying the hell out of them as much as humanly possible. They don’t like what we do? WE DO MORE AND MORE OF IT. But never without purpose, without a carefully executed plan in mind collectively. If we have to tolerate an endless tidal wave of everyone’s vomit — e.g., idiotic memes and comics; dumbed-down one-liner quotes; selfies; so-called “art photography” passed through one-click app filters; mindless scribbles or random splatters by regular folks who have the nerve to call themselves serious/pro artists; primitive images of pets, babies, landscapes, random objects, etc… then people sure as shit are gonna tolerate what we put out, our animated and non-animated visual art designed for our beloved master, Paul Jaisini, who has shown us the light, the right path to follow, taught us great things and done so much for us — and so in our appreciation of him, we stamp his name on everything, for the sacrifices he has made in the name of art, to save our art verse, he’s a goddamn hero. There’s a book being written in his dedication where little will be left to the imagination about him. If Paul Jaisini was as famous as Koons or Hirst, for example, people would know it’s not him posting stuff online with his name on it but fans creating fanart like myself among others. But noooooo, such a thing is unfathomable to most people – the promotion of another artist. Like, what’s in it for us? Uhh, nothing?? This is all NON-PROFIT bitches, the way art should be. It’s a passion FIRST, a commodity/commercial product/marketable item LAST and least. Its been that way for us since the early 90s to this day. Not a single member of GIG has sold an art work (neither has Paul Jaisini who’s a true professional) and we want to keep it that way. We do it for reasons far beyond ego. So advertising? Really? How the hell do you advertise or sell thin air, you know, invisible paintings, invisible anything? Ha ha, very funny indeed. The idea here is so simple, your neighbor’s dog can grasp it. Our motives: replace fast food for the mind with fine art, actual fine art. You know, creativity? Conscious thought? Talent? Skill? Knowledge? All that good stuff rolled into one to bring viewers more than a momentary ooohand aaahh reaction. Replace the recycled images ad nauseum; repetitious, worn-out ideas; disposable, gimmicky, money-driven fast art for simpletons. Stick with the highest of ideals and save the whole bloody planet. Fine art is often confused with craft-making. This often creates bad blood between classically trained artists who put out paintings that leave a lasting impression, that make strong conversation pieces, that are thought-provoking and deep… and trained craftspeople whose skills are adequate to create decorative pieces for homely environments — landscapes, still lifes, animals, pretty fairies, common things of fantasy, and other simplicity. Skills alone are not enough for high art, you need a vision, a purpose, the ability to tell a story with every stroke of your brush that will both fascinate and terrify the viewers, arousing powerful emotions, illuminating. I have yet to see a visible painting in my generation that does anything at all for me, other than evoke sheer outrage and disgust. What a terrible waste of space and valuable resources it all is. Paul Jaisini leads, we follow. He wishes to remain unknown – so do most of us. I’m next in line, slipping into recluse mode, no longer wanting to attach my face, my human image to my art stuff. I wish to be a nameless, faceless artist as well, invisible like P.J., and in his footsteps I too have destroyed thousands of my own artistic photography and digital art made with tedious, labor-intensive handwork. The whole point of this destruction is achieving the finest results possible by letting go of the imperfect, purging it on a regular basis, to make way for the perfect. I love what I do so it doesn’t matter, I know I’ll keep producing as much as I’m discarding, keeping the balance. Hoarding is an enemy of progress, especially the digital kind as there’s absolutely no limit to it. It’s like carrying a load of bricks on your back you’ll never use or need. The watering down of creativity that digital pack ratting has caused as observed over the years is most tragic. For the creative individual, relying on terabytes of stock photos or OSFAP as I call them (Once Size Fits All Photos) instead of making your own as you used to when you had no choice, being 100% original, is a splinter in the conscience. It’s not evil to use stock of, say, things you don’t have access to (outer space, deep sea, Antarctica, etc.), but many digital artists I know today can’t take their own shot of a pencil ‘cause they “ain’t got no time for that!” How did they have time before? Did time get so compressed in only a decade? Ohhhhh, and the edits, textures, filters, plug-ins and what-have-you available out there to everyone and their cats… are responsible for the tidal wave of rubbish that eclipses the magnificent light of the real talents. I can tell you with utmost sincerity there is no better feeling on earth than knowing your creation is ALL yours, every pixel and dot, from the first to the last. It’s not always possible to make it so, but definitely the most rewarding endeavor. I’m most proud of myself when I can accomplish that. Back to Paul Jaisini, from the start there have been a number of theories floating around on what his real story is. One of my own theories is that he stands for the unknowns of the world who can’t get representation, can’t get exhibited at a decent gallery because highly gifted/trained artists aren’t good enough – those kind of establishments prefer bananas, balloon dogs, feces, gigantic dicks/cunts, and all kinds of what-the-fucks… So again, you don’t get the Paul Jaisini thing? That’s your problem. Don’t hate others for getting it. People are good, very good, at making baseless assumptions and impulsively spewing it as truth. They criticize and judge as if they’re high authorities on the subject yet they clearly lack education in fine art or art history and possess little to no talent or skill to back up their bullshit. My little “credibility radar” never fails. When they say I know this or I know that, I reply don’t say “I know” or state things as fact as a general rule of thumb – instead say “I assume/believe” and state the reasons you feel thus to appear less immature, especially about a controversial topic like invisible art. I have zero respect or tolerance for egomaniacs who think they know it all and act accordingly like arrogant pricks. Who can stand those, right? Once again, a good example would be: I, Stelly Riesling, believe everything I’ve written in this little manifesto to be correct based on personal experience and observation from multiple angles, thorough research and sufficient data collected from verifiable sources (and don’t go copying-pasting my own words back at me, be original). Just because you or I say so doesn’t make it so. Just because you or me think or believe so doesn’t make it true or right. I only ask that my opinions are regarded respectfully and whoever opposes them does so in a mature, civilized manner. We should only be entitled to opinions that don’t bring out the worst in us. I don’t normally take such a position, but the time has come to stand up for what I believe in! It’s quite amusing and comical how haters think calling me names, attacking me or my interests or members of the project I’m part of for years is going to change something. It only makes more evident the importance of what I’m doing so I push on harder still. Words of advise to those who can identify with me, with my frustrations over people’s reluctance to change their miserable ways, with our declining art world… DON’T waste time on people who sweat the small stuff, whose actions are consistently inconsistent with their words. DO waste time on people who always keep their eye on the ball—the bigger picture of life. Paul Jaisini’s invisible paintings are more than hype, more than your lame assumptions. Here’s one I got that’s pure gold: a cult! It started out as A JOKE OF MINE that was used against me. I told a then-good friend that he should come join our little “art cult” in a clearly lighthearted manner, and later he takes this idea I put in his head first and accuses me of being in an (imaginary) cult—the jokes on me eh?. But wait, aren’t cults religious? Our group consists of people around the world of different faiths (or none at all) so how could that ever work? If religion was about making fine (non-pop) art mainstream and bringing awesome, fresh, futuristic concepts to the collective consciousness, the world would not be so fucked up today because talent, creativity, originality and individuality would be the main focus, not superficial poppycock; those things would be praised and encouraged and supported in society by all institutions, not demonized and stigmatized. Here is one thing I CAN state as solid fact: only one person close to Paul Jaisini knows the TRUE story, or at least some of it: EYKG. Everything else that has ever been said about him is myth, legend, gossip, speculation, the worst of which is said by jealous non-artists (wannabes, clones, posers, hang-ons, unoriginal ppl in general) and anti-artists (religious psychos, squares, losers and -duh- stupid ppl). Sadly, people are unable to see the bigger picture by letting their egos run their lives or repeating after others as parrots. Commercial art, consumerism, and ignorance of the masses truly makes me want to curl up in a ball, not eat or drink or move until I die, just die in my sleep while dreaming of a better world, a world where real fine artists rule it with real fine art as they used to and life is beautiful once again…. Well I hope that settled THAT for now, or perhaps inadvertently made matters worse. I hope I didn’t sound too pissed from all these issues that keep popping up like penises on ChatRoulette… just got to me already! Can you tell? I had to put my foot down, stomp ‘em all! To be continued, still lots more ignorance and pettiness to battle… Till then peace out my bambini. MWAH! FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE MANIFESTO GLEITZEIT 2015 PROLOGUE Paul Jaisini was like a messiah, as you wish, who saw/understood the impending end and complete degeneration of Fine art or Art become and investment nothing more than that. He predicted the bubble pops art when everybody would eventually become an artist, including dogs cats and horses, because they as kids followed the main rule: express yourself without skills or knowledge or any aesthetic concerns. J. Pollack started pouring paints onto canvases; Julian Schnabel, former cab driver from NY, suddenly decided he could do better than what he saw displayed in galleries, so he started gluing dishes on canvases; A.Warhol, an industrial artist who made commercial silk-screen for the factories he worked in, started to exhibit "Campbell’s soup" used for commercial adds… and later the thing that made him an "American Idol": by copying and pasting Hollywood celebrities (same type of posters he made before for movie theaters). When Paul Jaisini stood out against the Me culture in the US by burning all of his own 120 brilliant paintings (according to the then-new director of Fort Worth MoMa Museum, who offered hin an exhibition of his art in 1992, and later the Metropolitan Museum curator, Phillippe de Montebello, in 1994).Paul probably assumed all fellow true fine artists would join him or stand by him against corruption of the art world. And after 20 years of his stand-off…the time has finally come today. Many artists and humanitarians around the world took a place beside him. His invisible Paintings became a synonym for the future reincarnation of fine art and long lost harmony. The establishment is in panic! The "moneybags" (as Paul Jaisini named them) are in panic, because they invested BILLIONS of dollars in real crap made by craftsmen. Now they realize that the reputation of American legends of expressionism was nothing but a copy of Russian avant-garde" Kazimir Malevich, Vasiliy Kandinsky and tens of others from France and Germany.. US tycoon investors were spending billions on "Me more original, than you". "Artist Shit" is a 1061 artwork by the Italian artist Piero Manzoni. The work consists of 90 tin cans, filled with feces. A tin can was sold for £124,000, 180,000 at Sothebys, 2007. EPILOGUE Before I resume promoting and admiring a very important art persona on today’s international art arena, I’d like to clear up some BIG questions; people ask continuously and subconsciously, directly & indirectly: "Why does the name Paul Jaisini, flood the Internet in such "obnoxious" quantities that it’s started suppressing some other activities that my friends might share with the rest of the Internet’s Ego Me only Me www society? I can’t just answer this… so I’ll try to explain why I’m writing this: Jaisini’s followers keep posting art and info about, He IMHO the only hope in quickly decomposing visual fine art. "Paul Jaisini realized many years ago, in 1994, when he declared (at that time to himself only) the start of a New era, a New vision, that he is trying to redirect from the rat race, started by an establishment in post-war New York, long before the Internet culture. Sub related information: Adolf Gottlieb, Mart Rothko, etc (after visiting Paris France in 1933): "We must forget analytical art, we must express ourselves, as a 5 year old child would, without a developed consciousness. Forget about results – do what you feel, EXPRESS yourself with your own unique style" With this statement Mark Rothko starts to teach his students, degeneration of fine art begins, and the generation of war of styles took a start signal of the material race, greatly rewarded by establishment "individual" – eccentric craftsmen – show business clowns. Sub related Information: In the summer of 1936, Adolf Gottlieb painted more than 800 paintings, which was 20X more than he created in his whole art career as a painter, starting from the time of Gottlieb becomes a founding member of "The Ten" group in NYC "Group of Ten" was a very peculiar, enigmatic group… Based on a religious point of view;(where a human figure was prohibited from being created) GLOSSARY IN 1997, Paul Jaisini’s best friend Ellen Y.K.Gottlieb started a cyber campaign by promoting on a very young Internet, back then, Paul Jaisini’s burned paintings as Invisible Paintings, visible only through poetic essays. She and a handful of people saw his originals and were devastated that nobody could ever see them again. "We, his fans, believe that someday Paul will recreate his 120 burned paintings if he has any decency and moral obligation to his fans, who have dedicated decades to make it happen, for their Phoenix to rise from the ashes and the whole world will witness that all these years we spent to get him back to re-paint the Visuals again were not in vain," – said E.Y.K.Gottlieb in 2014 during the 20th anniversary celebration of Invisible Paintings to GIGroup in NYCity. So now, hopefully, this clears up why I and others do what we do – our "cyber terrorism" of good art, dedicated to Paul Jaisini’s return, which is & and was our mission & our goal. We post good art to fight "troll art" which is worthless pics, after being passed through 1-click filters of free web apps. We are, in fact, against this www pops pollution, done with "bubble art" by the out of control masses with 5 billon pics a day: Pics of cats, memes, quotes,national geographic sunsets and waterfalls, not counting their own daily "selfies: and whatever self-indulging Me-ego-Me affairs, sponsored happily by photo gadget companies like Canon, Nikon, Sony…who churn out higher quality madness tools at lower cost. This way Government taking away attention from the real world crisis of lowest morality & economical devastation. The masses are too easily re-engineered/manipulated by the Establishment PopsStyle delivered to them by pop music and Hollywood "super" stars. In 1992 Paul Jaisini’s Gleitzeit theory predict such a massive, pops self-entertain madness, following technological explosion, but not in illusive scales. Uber Aless @2015 NYC USA NOTE Date’s numbers and events can be slightly inaccurate. #gleitzeit #paul-jaisini #invisible #painting #art #futurism #art-news,

Posted by E_Y_K_G on 2015-03-28 04:43:10

Tagged: , smile , <3 , paul-jaisini , paintings , drawing , ink , nature , landscape , gleitzeit , art , blue , texture , cobalt , new , surf , wave , waves , underwater , moon , moonlight , stardust , stars , infinity , galaxy , futuristic , universe , energy , reflection , illusion , mind , robot , metal , infinite , dreams , high , cosmos , trippy , acid , trip , psychedelic , hippie , wonder , ice , misty , opart , opticalillusion , quest , games , puzzle , space , hipster , groovy , glow , cosmic , invisible , manifesto , alien , aliens , transformation , queer , unusual , stellyriesling , gleitzeitmanifesto

The post P.Jaisini-smiles-GIG-NYC2015 appeared first on Good Info.

[carlsonknives]

WELLBEING | Managing Anxiety When Living Outside of Your Comfort Zone

This isn’t an article featuring tips on handling anxiety, more a personal musing on my own anxiety and fair warning too, it’s pretty long, though I hope not too rambling!

Although I’m fairly adventurous I have an exaggerated anxiety response, even to seemingly mild stressors. Things I’m good at, things I enjoy, things I’ve done over and over again, often still fill me with anxiety.

Just over 20 years ago, as well as suffering from depression, I was also diagnosed with Free Floating Anxiety. Rather than the diagnostic labels empowering me, however, I felt like they trapped me.

After a few years of living a much smaller life, I realised I had a choice to make and that diagnoses or not, my mental health was pretty much up to me to take control of and that there were no magic cures (though at that time medication did offer me some relief, but I never saw it as a long-term solution) so that’s when I started on my long journey back to taking control of my mental health and getting off meds for good.

Although I’m now medication-free and largely stable and well, I do still have that extremely exaggerated anxiety response, and sometimes it can overwhelm me.

What Anxiety Is Like for Me

Nerves before doing things that we perceive as stressful are of course normal, but for one reason or another (perhaps by now, the well-worn neural pathways I’ve created over more than 2 decades aren’t helping), I still feel that I have an unusually excessive anxiety response, though my GP has been highly dismissive.

Unable to concentrate, my stomach churning and in knots, shaking, irritable, unable to eat, sleep or even go to the loo – symptoms I’m sure many with anxiety will be able to identify with.

Instead of mild nervous excitement and butterflies, I can find myself feeling wired and jittery as cortisol courses through me. Unable to concentrate, my stomach churning and in knots, shaking, irritable, unable to eat, sleep or even go to the loo – symptoms I’m sure many with anxiety will be able to identify with.

The tricks I learned during CBT combined with meditation help me a little, but only to a point. I’m now able to identify how I’m feeling at least, which can stop me spiralling into a full-on meltdown, but it doesn’t really ease the anxiety and no amount of rationalising or logical self-talk seems to stop that unwelcome jittery cortisol rush and churning sick feeling of dread that for me, can last for days or even weeks on end.

You might think then that knowing I react this way to certain things that I’d attempt to minimise my exposure to the situations I know can make me anxious. Quite the opposite is true though.

I’m not sure I ever truly left behind my teenage rebellious phase, but my natural desire to disrupt and live life in full colour, combined with my stubborn streak compels me towards anxiety-inducing situations like a moth to a flame.

Avoidance As A Coping Mechanism Isn’t For Me

I truly believe that avoidance isn’t a particularly healthy or ultimately rewarding coping mechanism, Indeed I seem to ascribe to a “feel the crippling, gut-wrenching fear but like a massive idiot, go and do it anyway” type of thinking, so I persist in doing things that I know are likely to cause me anxiety, as conquering them feels like a little personal victory, despite the days of hell I go through beforehand.

It feels like I’m wresting back control, telling my brain to shut up, confirming to myself that if I want to do something, I jolly well will, regardless of the anxiety it will inevitably cause me. I seem to actively seek out situations that cause me to feel this way, like some kind of twisted masochist.

Is this constant battle a ‘healthy’ way of handling anxiety? Is it good for helping me build confidence that will hopefully lead to less anxiety in the future? That I really don’t know, but the other option of not doing stuff because my anxiety tells me not to doesn’t really feel like an option at all to me.

I don’t want fear to hold me back, I want my life to be as big and rich as possible and for that to happen, instead of retreating and waving a white flag, I simply have to face my anxiety head on.

Our Comfort Zones Are All Very Different

Take for example when I started this blog almost 5 years ago, and I made a pledge to say “yes” to things my anxiety repeatedly tells me to say a big resounding “no” to, which has lead to me being in countless situations that have left me with insomnia, feeling sick, physically shaking, unable to think straight and with horrendous IBS flares.

I know a diverse range of people and am lucky to have a large group of friends. Some of whom also suffer from anxiety and other related disorders. Some are medicated, some are not. Some grab it by the horns and do the scary things anyway, others don’t and instead let the anxiety stop them living the lives they want to live.

The mountains where I’m always at my happiest

Nerves and apprehension, of course, are normal and natural, a physical and psychological response to something perceived as a stressor. So now, rather than running through endless worst-case scenarios and dwelling on them, I try not to look at things in terms of success or failure.

I’m OK with simply ‘doing’ and I try not to focus on the potential outcomes. I’ve stopped running endless nightmare scenarios through my head and now reason with an internal shrug that whatever I’m facing “It’ll be fine” and I often think about “what’s the worst that can happen?” too, which can have an instantly calming effect when I realise actually, it’s really no big deal and this kind of rationalisation really does help.

Instead of trying to totally ignore the thoughts that cause my anxiety to spike, I sit with them and to some extent accept that I feel that way.

This acceptance seems to rob the anxious thoughts of their potency and I can sometimes let the anxious ‘what if’ scenarios float away from me. My forthcoming solo snowboarding holiday is making me feel anxious in a way that’s threatening to engulf the usual pre-holiday excitement I usually feel though and that’s because my usual “what’s the worst that can happen?” way of thinking is actually making things worse rather than better.

My favourite place to snowboard, Whistler in Canada

What’s The Worst That Can Happen?

If you’re anxious about say a job interview, when you apply that logical reasoning to the situation the answer is “I might not get the job” or “I might say something stupid”, neither of which are likely to have any lasting impact other than you feeling a bit frustrated, or a bit stupid for a while. But given my previous experience of being in the mountains and having had medical emergencies, “what’s the worst that can happen?” takes on a far scarier life of its own.

I’m lucky to be part of a wonderful community of outdoor bloggers; some like strolling around and exploring cities and parks, some are triathletes or run marathons, some like long distance hikes and some are full-on adventure fiends, taking part in jungle expeditions and even scaling the heights of some serious mountains like Kathmandu.

As someone who camps, does a bit of walking, kayaking, snowboarding and likes the odd adrenaline rush, imposter syndrome can often be strong when I compare myself to those I regard as hardcore adventurers. But then I have other friends who think I’m crazy/brave/stupid for doing some of the things that I do, and would never consider doing anything like that themselves.

There’s an Art to Not Letting Fear Hold You Back

This leads me to my forthcoming solo snowboarding holiday and how it’s very much taking me out of my comfort zone.

Now in my early forties, I’ve been snowboarding since my mid-twenties and have snowboarded in places like Morzine, La Thuille, Cervinia, Sestriere, Fernie and my favourite, Whistler in Canada.

I’m actually a pretty decent snowboarder, just not great. I still get flummoxed by dreaded flat bits and still occasionally get off chair lifts and fall into a heap. Despite this, I’m proficient on black runs and even breaking my back snowboarding a few years ago hasn’t put me off, though it has slowed me down a little.

I’ve been overseas to places like Morocco, Egypt and to Europe on my own, and I’ve also frequently spent time in places like Scotland and Cornwall alone, but snowboarding on my own is totally new and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hugely apprehensive about it.

I’m not one to take risks in the mountains, but despite this, I’ve found myself in a few sticky situations where I was hugely grateful not to be on my own at the time.

Despite my best efforts I’m not brilliant at mountain navigation, which is one of the reasons why in the past I’ve tended to return multiple times to the same ski resorts as I’ve got to know the mountains there, Whistler in Canada for example I know extremely well, and know all my favourite runs, which other runs lead off them, which chair lifts to get back up and so on.

Flow is that lovely, often elusive state you can find yourself in when doing something completely absorbing and/or pleasurable.

I’ve pondered over why my mountain navigation skills aren’t great and believe the reason in part at least, is that when I’m snowboarding I’m experiencing that wonderful feeling of flow.

Flow is that lovely, often elusive state you can find yourself in when doing something completely absorbing and/or pleasurable. We are immersed there in the present moment, fully enjoying it without any of the usual thoughts and worries of a busy mind that can so easily distract us.

When I’m in this state, totally absorbed by the physicality of snowboarding, the sheer joy of being in the mountains, it’s like part of my conscious brain switches off, I’m on a high, and having to engage my logical brain to figure out what to do when I suddenly find the run I’m on is about to split into 3 and I can’t see any clear signs or piste markers, isn’t something I’m great at.

The Reassuring Safety Net Of Other People & The Role of Our Peer Group

In a group, this isn’t an issue. There’s always one of us that knows where we’re going, or someone to reassure me that yes, this is the ‘right’ way down, but the realisation that mountain navigation will be just down to me this time fills me with an anxiety I can’t seem to shake, and despite my best efforts I seem to be fixating on the fear of taking a wrong turn and getting myself in a pickle.

When I mentioned this in a Facebook post, a friend pointed out that as long as I head down the slope, it’s all good. Of course, thinking purely logically that’s absolutely true, but framed within some of the sketchy experiences I’ve had, it’s not quite as simple as that.

Snowboarding in Cervinia once with my sister and best friend, about 2/3 of the way down the mountain we suddenly came to an abrupt stop in front of 2 huge signs as the run split into 2. In one direction there was a big red sign that said “CLOSED” in the other direction a big red sign said “DANGER”. We stood baffled, totally alone on the run, trying to work out what the hell to do.

There were no chair lifts in sight, from the piste map we couldn’t work out where we were and taking off our boards and walking back up a slope we’d already spent a good 20 minutes boarding down wasn’t an option. We decided “CLOSED” was our best bet and took off our boards and spent nearly an hour walking down the closed almost snowless piste to reach the bottom.

Another time whilst snowboarding in the most insane powder I’ve ever come across in Sestriere in Italy, we were in full white-out conditions. The kind of conditions that are totally and utterly disorientating.

I veered very slightly off piste on the way down (without realising as I couldn’t see), and found myself, just a metre or 2 away from the marked piste but unable to move, up to my waist in snow. It was frankly terrifying, but thankfully my daughter who was boarding close behind me came to a stop on the edge of the piste, took off her board and edged her way towards me. Lying flat and reaching out to help me dig and compact snow around me so I could heave myself out, It took us a good 20 minutes of hard work to get me out and we were both shattered by the end of it.

Add to this a broken back and breaking several ribs multiple times whilst boarding and having to be stretchered off the mountain, a huge fear of drag lifts as with my back injury they are seriously painful for me to use, and I guess it’s understandable why I might be a little anxious about snowboarding alone on a mountain I don’t know in a country where I can only cobble together enough of the language to buy a meal in a restaurant.

Before booking, I asked fellow outdoors bloggers whether they thought snowboarding alone was dangerous or not, and the general consensus was no, as long as I was careful to go for it. It was interesting however when I asked close friends and family the same question, most of their responses were the exact opposite, telling me they thought I was crazy to do it alone.

Although snowboarding is fun, the mountains aren’t always friendly places. Finding yourself alone in bad weather with low visibility on a sketchy slope with daylight fading is a seriously sobering experience, one that requires you to swallow down fear, think logically and focus on getting yourself off the hill as quickly and as safely as possible.

Despite my fears, this will come as no great surprise, I went ahead and booked anyway. After missing the last 3 seasons in a row and with me not getting any younger, I was determined that no matter what, even if I ended up having to go alone, that I wouldn’t miss a fourth season.

I did a lot of research before choosing my accommodation and the location. I opted for a chalet reasoning that if something did happen to me, the chalet hosts and other guests would recognise my absence much faster than a hotel would.

To try and ease the anxiety I’ve told myself I only need to stick to some gentle runs low down the mountain, and that once I get to know a few runs, I’ll be fine.

Even so, I’ve genuinely never been this nervous about going away alone before, and with still over a week to go, the physical feelings that my anxiety is causing are pronounced and frankly exhausting.

I just keep thinking about finishing my very first run, the joyful rush of adrenaline mixed with relief, which is when I’m hoping all this anxiety will finally melt away and leave me alone so I can relax and enjoy the experience.

Me snowboarding in Whistler

How Do You Handle Anxiety?

I’d love to know how you handle self-doubt and anxiety.

How do you feel about solo travel, have you ever done it, or would you do it given the chance? If not, why not? Would you ski or snowboard alone, or have you done it in the past? Perhaps you never seem to worry about anything much or you experience anxiety in a markedly different way? Leave a comment below!

The post WELLBEING | Managing Anxiety When Living Outside of Your Comfort Zone appeared first on Camping Blog Camping with Style | Active, Outdoors & Glamping Blog.

Original Source http://www.campingwithstyle.co.uk/wellbeing-managing-anxiety-when-living-outside-of-your-comfort-zone/ For the best knives to use whilst camping check out Carlson Knives http://www.carlsonknives.com/

[thehavenmh]

The Haven's Beginnings

Zen Founder
 The Haven Support Network
 I was 30 years old and had just gotten married when I last tried to kill myself. I was actually in a psych ward on the upper west side of Manhattan and went into a bipolar mixed state due to natural chemicals, rapid cycling, and new medications. It made me suicidal. In a few minutes of fixated psychosis, I climbed up on to the top of a wardrobe in my bedroom, kneeled on the top, and dove off on to the top of my head. I had hoped that it would break my neck and kill me. My luck, it only did one of the two. I shattered my C5 vertebra in my neck and fractured my T6 in my back into three pieces. I needed surgery to repair my neck and they needed to use a mesh wiring to keep everything together. It was a long, gruesome recovery. But I lived and that’s what brings me here today. Mental illness has dictated much of my life for the last 20 years. The first time I attempted suicide I was 13 and in a manic state brought on by Prozac. As a result I ended up in a teen psych unit for about a month. It was a horrific experience, one I often blame myself for because I didn’t choose the nicer hospital. But I was 14, what did I know? The psych unit was old and kind of rough around the edges, not slick and sterile like in an actual hospital. There were 2-4 girls to a room and half the beds were falling apart. The different buildings were separate so we walked with nurses between Lodge (my unit), the school building, and the dining hall. Eventually, due to excessive self-harm behaviors, I wasn’t allowed to leave Lodge.  I was introduced to the quiet room, shatter-proof glass, velcro mittens to keep me from scratching myself, forced sedatives, and strait jackets. At one point it got so intense that I had four fully grown men holding me down on the floor, while one sat on top of me to keep me still, and was then injected with a sedative in my buttcheek. They tied me up in a strait jacket and put me in some sort of sling so they could carry me wrapped up to the van which would take me down the hill to the more intense quiet rooms. In my head it’s “the burrito.” Many more things happened in that month, but those are stories for another time. I lost friends because of what people said and believed about me. Which is fair, honestly. I was out of my mind and likely an unhealthy influence on those close to me. I was literally losing my mind in a mental hospital. It’s understandable. But part of that experience was my first run in with the stigma of mental illness. I hadn’t known that it was truly bad to be crazy. We had a psych hospital and rehab center in my town growing up. We always joked, don’t go nuts or the whitecoats would come take you away, but that was about as serious as it got.  What happened, which I didn’t know at the time, was I had come face to face with the stigma of mental illness. Stigma rears its nasty head whenever there is something unknown, liminal, abnormal, not understood. People with mental illness suffer a tremendous amount of discrimination and a huge proportion of people suffering don’t even have access to mental healthcare to try and improve their situations. One contributing factor is simply that mental illness has been taboo to talk openly about and continues to be taboo in most places around the world. Men in particular find it hard to come forward and discuss their mental health. While we find it difficult to have conversations about mental health, people find themselves in hopeless situations and lose their battles with mental illness.  Suicide statistics show that over the last 45 years suicides have gone up 60% worldwide. “The World Health Organisation (WHO) estimates that each year approximately one million people die from suicide, which represents a global mortality rate of 16 people per 100,000 or one death every 40 seconds. It is predicted that by 2020 the rate of death will increase to one every 20 seconds” (Suicide Statistics | Befrienders). These are terrifying statistics, made even more so by the incredible lack of mental healthcare in most parts of the world. Even in the developed countries access to mental healthcare is never simple.  The American pay-to-win system leaves those living paycheck-to-paycheck with few options and high deductibles if they’re able to get an insurance plan at all. In the UK waiting to see a psychiatrist through the NHS could take up to two years, especially if you’re looking for a specialist. In Brazil if you go to an emergency department and proclaim that you’re going to kill yourself, they will call your doctor and send you home. In many other countries there is simply nowhere to go. When I was younger I relied on chatrooms and forums, seeking solace in the experience of others, looking for validation for what was happening in my head. I discovered that I wasn’t alone. Last year I went looking for a mental health community that I could get involved in. I found a chatroom and moderated for a while. Mostly I offered support and advice to people who were having a rough day or in crisis of some sort. At some point a friend of mine left the chat and casually said, oh you might try making one yourself.  Today I run a network of mental health peer support chat servers. We use an application called DiscordDiscord - Free Voice and Text Chat for Gamers, that you can use on mobile, in browser, or in Discord’s desktop app. The Haven Support consists of three servers: Haven Lite, which is for people 13 and up who are living with mental illness; Haven Retreat, which is for people 13 and up who are looking for emotional support and a lively community; and The Haven, our main server that is 18 and up and you must be living with or believe you are living with mental illness.  I began The Haven set on cultivating an environment where people could feel less alone, could get help when they otherwise couldn’t, or give back because helping others helped them too. The phrase that came to mind was, “Care when you need it, care for others when you can.” I’m bipolar so I’m used to a rollercoaster of capability. What I imagined for the community was something similar. When you’re down and you need a hand, someone is there to grab you. When you feel like supporting someone, you can reach out and see who reaches back.  We are a tight community that wouldn’t survive without our peer support volunteers and the moderating team. The most important role in the server is Support. Having the Support role means that you receive notifications when someone is asking for help in one of our 1:1 support channels. Without the people who volunteer in the support channels, The Haven wouldn’t be anything like it is today. I am constantly amazed and forever grateful for the time and effort that people are willing to give each other. It is humbling. Our guides, support mods, and moderating team are also all volunteers who donate their time (and sometimes money) to keeping the peace, making sure all three servers remain safe spaces for people to hang out in. I always tell my team that we should strive to do what is best for the greatest amount of people. The long-term goal for The Haven Support is to become a non-profit that raises money for people anywhere in the world who cannot access timely or effective mental healthcare. I hope that along this journey I am able to spread some awareness about the very real struggles that people with mental illness face day to day. It is still more acceptable for women to receive treatment for mental illness, but men are just as or more likely to be struggling and are more prone to committing violent suicide. Maybe in a few years it will feel more OK to say, “I lived,” after a suicide attempt. Hopefully within the next decade schools will begin to teach mental health as often as they teach physical health. Replace detention with meditation. Let kids play more and let teens sleep later. Mental illness is above all a physical illness: it is the connections between neurons, the electrical and chemical exchanges in the synapses. As far as science can tell, we do not exist outside of our bodies and our minds are theoretically contained in our brains. Since our brain is just an organ, all malfunctions thereof should be considered like those of any other organ. We do not judge people’s character because they have a broken leg, so nor should anyone judge a person for a depressive episode or a psychotic break. I have borderline personality disorder, but that just means my amygdala is bigger than yours.  The Haven is the result of hard work and good luck. I found an amazing team to work with, lots of loving members who help each other when in need. We are constantly growing, and our newest connection with PsychCentral has really bolstered our position. I look forward to this new chapter in The Haven’s life. 

[thehavenmh]

The Haven: Beginnings

Zen, Founder of The Haven Support

I was 30 years old and had just gotten married when I last tried to kill myself. I was actually in a psych ward on the upper west side of Manhattan and went into a bipolar mixed state due to natural chemicals, rapid cycling, and new medications. It made me suicidal. In a few minutes of fixated psychosis, I climbed up on to the top of a wardrobe in my bedroom, kneeled on the top, and dove off on to the top of my head. I had hoped that it would break my neck and kill me. My luck, it only did one of the two. I shattered my C5 vertebra in my neck and fractured my T6 in my back into three pieces. I needed surgery to repair my neck and they needed to use a mesh wiring to keep everything together. It was a long, gruesome recovery. But I lived and that’s what brings me here today.

Mental illness has dictated much of my life for the last 20 years. The first time I attempted suicide I was 13 and in a manic state brought on by Prozac. As a result I ended up in a teen psych unit for about a month. It was a horrific experience, one I often blame myself for because I didn’t choose the nicer hospital. But I was 14, what did I know? The psych unit was old and kind of rough around the edges, not slick and sterile like in an actual hospital. There were 2-4 girls to a room and half the beds were falling apart. The different buildings were separate so we walked with nurses between Lodge (my unit), the school building, and the dining hall. Eventually, due to excessive self-harm behaviors, I wasn’t allowed to leave Lodge. 

I was introduced to the quiet room, shatter-proof glass, velcro mittens to keep me from scratching myself, forced sedatives, and strait jackets. At one point it got so intense that I had four fully grown men holding me down on the floor, while one sat on top of me to keep me still, and was then injected with a sedative in my buttcheek. They tied me up in a strait jacket and put me in some sort of sling so they could carry me wrapped up to the van which would take me down the hill to the more intense quiet rooms. In my head it’s “the burrito.” Many more things happened in that month, but those are stories for another time.

  I lost friends because of what people said and believed about me. Which is fair, honestly. I was out of my mind and likely an unhealthy influence on those close to me. I was literally losing my mind in a mental hospital. It’s understandable. But part of that experience was my first run in with the stigma of mental illness. I hadn’t known that it was truly bad to be crazy. We had a psych hospital and rehab center in my town growing up. We always joked, don’t go nuts or the whitecoats would come take you away, but that was about as serious as it got. 

What happened, which I didn’t know at the time, was I had come face to face with the stigma of mental illness. Stigma rears its nasty head whenever there is something unknown, liminal, abnormal, not understood. People with mental illness suffer a tremendous amount of discrimination and a huge proportion of people suffering don’t even have access to mental healthcare to try and improve their situations. One contributing factor is simply that mental illness has been taboo to talk openly about and continues to be taboo in most places around the world. Men in particular find it hard to come forward and discuss their mental health. While we find it difficult to have conversations about mental health, people find themselves in hopeless situations and lose their battles with mental illness. 

Suicide statistics show that over the last 45 years suicides have gone up 60% worldwide. “The World Health Organisation (WHO) estimates that each year approximately one million people die from suicide, which represents a global mortality rate of 16 people per 100,000 or one death every 40 seconds. It is predicted that by 2020 the rate of death will increase to one every 20 seconds” (https://www.befrienders.org/suicide-statistics). These are terrifying statistics, made even more so by the incredible lack of mental healthcare in most parts of the world. Even in the developed countries access to mental healthcare is never simple. 

The American pay-to-win system leaves those living paycheck-to-paycheck with few options and high deductibles if they’re able to get an insurance plan at all. In the UK waiting to see a psychiatrist through the NHS could take up to two years, especially if you’re looking for a specialist. In Brazil if you go to an emergency department and proclaim that you’re going to kill yourself, they will call your doctor and send you home. In many other countries there is simply nowhere to go.

When I was younger I relied on chatrooms and forums, seeking solace in the experience of others, looking for validation for what was happening in my head. I discovered that I wasn’t alone. Last year I went looking for a mental health community that I could get involved in. I found a chatroom and moderated for a while. Mostly I offered support and advice to people who were having a rough day or in crisis of some sort. At some point a friend of mine left the chat and casually said, oh you might try making one yourself. 

Today I run a network of mental health peer support chat servers. We use an application called Discord https://discordapp.com/, that you can use on mobile, in browser, or in Discord’s desktop app. The Haven Support consists of three servers: Haven Lite, which is for people 13 and up who are living with mental illness; Haven Retreat, which is for people 13 and up who are looking for emotional support and a lively community; and The Haven, our main server that is 18 and up and you must be living with or believe you are living with mental illness. 

I began The Haven set on cultivating an environment where people could feel less alone, could get help when they otherwise couldn’t, or give back because helping others helped them too. The phrase that came to mind was, “Care when you need it, care for others when you can.” I’m bipolar so I’m used to a rollercoaster of capability. What I imagined for the community was something similar. When you’re down and you need a hand, someone is there to grab you. When you feel like supporting someone, you can reach out and see who reaches back. 

We are a tight community that wouldn’t survive without our peer support volunteers and the moderating team. The most important role in the server is Support. Having the Support role means that you receive notifications when someone is asking for help in one of our 1:1 support channels. Without the people who volunteer in the support channels, The Haven wouldn’t be anything like it is today. I am constantly amazed and forever grateful for the time and effort that people are willing to give each other. It is humbling. Our guides, support mods, and moderating team are also all volunteers who donate their time (and sometimes money) to keeping the peace, making sure all three servers remain safe spaces for people to hang out in. I always tell my team that we should strive to do what is best for the greatest amount of people.

The long-term goal for The Haven Support is to become a non-profit that raises money for people anywhere in the world who cannot access timely or effective mental healthcare. I hope that along this journey I am able to spread some awareness about the very real struggles that people with mental illness face day to day. It is still more acceptable for women to receive treatment for mental illness, but men are just as or more likely to be struggling and are more prone to committing violent suicide. Maybe in a few years it will feel more OK to say, “I lived,” after a suicide attempt. Hopefully within the next decade schools will begin to teach mental health as often as they teach physical health. Replace detention with meditation. Let kids play more and let teens sleep later. 

Mental illness is above all a physical illness: it is the connections between neurons, the electrical and chemical exchanges in the synapses. As far as science can tell, we do not exist outside of our bodies and our minds are theoretically contained in our brains. Since our brain is just an organ, all malfunctions thereof should be considered like those of any other organ. We do not judge people’s character because they have a broken leg, so nor should anyone judge a person for a depressive episode or a psychotic break. I have borderline personality disorder, but that just means my amygdala is bigger than yours. 

The Haven is the result of hard work and good luck. I found an amazing team to work with, lots of loving members who help each other when in need. We are constantly growing, and our newest connection with PsychCentral has really bolstered our position. I look forward to this new chapter in The Haven’s life.