Copper Chronicles

Automaton

May 17th, 2025

Sometimes, my brain works really hard to solve a problem. Then finally, a solution emerges. Not always, but often. And sometimes in the middle of the night.

The Bible says when we sleep at night our conscience sorts through things and processes them (Psalm 16:7). So, that the garbag-y thoughts fall to the wayside and we keep the good ones.

After sleeping and waking up and reading yesterday’s post, I realized I kind of am an automaton. I can’t just outcast myself that I became in the matrix like a frightened villager casts out Frankenstein. I am still me, perhaps a quasi-automaton. But, there’s hope for me.

Neuroscientists like Dr. Caroline Leaf say a brain is like a super computer. It can be programmed poorly by our experiences, it can ‘catch viruses’ or be hacked by malicious agents. But, we can reprogram our minds by identifying the problem thoughts and building new ones into our mind. Just like a computer.

So, automaton: compile list of human beings’ needs I’ve compiled so far in Copper Chronicles to help me survive outside matrix of my past life.

Human beings need to feel valued (Christ). Need to be feel useful. Need food and shelter. Need justice. Need to listen to their consciences to sort out useful from useful thoughts. Need to be kind to those who are different not frustrated and angry with them. We need to be kind to ourselves. We need to not dominate others or allow ourselves to be dominated. We need to listen to cues from our environment.

Also, human beings need real food.* Affection. Imagination. Freedom to explore existence in a way much broader than the matrix of the modern world. We need quiet for our nervous systems to ‘reset.’ We need filters to process what we see and hear.

We need to filter what we speak and what we choose to believe. Human beings need to feel safe. Need to master things, learn, challenge ourselves, grow to our fullest potential. Make use of difficult circumstances to learn new things. (Like embracing Automaton).

Automaton has difficultly speaking and being understood in social situations. I have difficulty understanding other people, too. But, unlike Data, the lovable Ai character on Star Trek, I have a heart. I know that because when I saw orchids blooming inside the Fresh Market yesterday, and my heart lit up like a Christmas tree. Then, I forget what I was doing, because they were so beautiful.

*not faux food
Happy

May 16th, 2025

I am enjoying myself quite a bit more now that I am certain I am not an automaton- a machine- programmed for others’ purposes. The hens had purpose and enjoyed being hens. But, somehow I knew I had a purpose. But, I didn’t know what it was- neither was I free to pursuit it.

In another post, I discovered I needed to contribute to something meaningful to be happy. Other than – eat, sleep, work. SHOP. Repeat. A person needs to feel useful and to feel valued, says some guy named Kevin on YouTube.

The automaton I mentioned earlier is a precursor to our modern Ai machines, or digital ‘beings.’ Programmable. So, they look like human beings, and act like human beings. But….🤔

I am a fan of the Artificial character, Data, on Star Trek Next Generation. But, there are needs inside a human being (made of flesh and blood) that beings made in a lab do not possess.

In a post I removed I explored hostile feelings towards a person who betrayed me. So, human beings need justice.

Being in a matrix -like world where there are things designed to distract me, make use of me, or get my money has been distressing, demoralizing. How do I be a free person after being a cog in a machine? A nameless, faceless, (almost genderless) foot soldier in an existence that felt like a war.

What exactly was that war about? I don’t even know. I was not a fan of doing what I was told growing up. So, I made a good effort to play my part to save myself from being outcast. Human beings need justice. But, they also need food and a place to live.

I guess that’s my purpose today. Find some food. Real food, hopefully.
Masculinity Southern Style

May 15th, 2025

I am trying a new thing southerners do well, which is unlike my life up North. It’s called “relaxing.”

I sat in a hot tub today at the Y and had a conversation with a southern gentlemen, I would say, after which I felt like I drank a warm glass of bourbon.

It wasn’t the hot tub, because I have been in a hot tub regularly. He personified affection and duty- wrapped up in a pleasant smile. Like he was enjoying my rather nervous inquisition by comparison. He was like 80. I am looking forward to old age!

He was very obliging to answer my questions about pool laps and mileage for my ambitious Tuesday and Thursday quad- athlon idea: Elliptical machine, weights, swimming, and walking.

There’s lots of healthy people here doing miraculous feats of fitness. I am young at heart, I told the warm glass of bourbon in the hot tub, I mean the man. I got that going for me.

One young man I saw at the gym was carrying one kid on his shoulders, another gently nestled in his arm, two massive packs of family stuff on his back, equipment, mats, gym bags, etc. He was telling his wife a funny story while holding a door open for an old lady going into the YMCA.

His wife looked relaxed and happy. She was smelling flowers planted outside the door of the Y while I was entering. He looked happy, too.

I told the man in the hot tub perhaps precipitously, that I was from up north. So, I don’t always understand the warm, friendliness and habits of social etiquette southerners possess. Massachusetts particularly, the home of equality for women gone awry perhaps a tiny bit.

I worried he may think it necessary NOT to hold the door open for me, because I am perfectly capable of doing it myself. According to me being kinda of arrogant and full of myself.

Fortunately, there was no door. So, I escaped that awkward scenario. If there was a door, I’d be glad if he held it open for me. After all, I am doing a quad-lathon here!
Pity or Compassion?

May 15th, 2025

My sister says the word “pity” can mean pretending to care about something but not actually doing the work of compassion. If I meant to pay lip service, for example, to priests in my recent post, Pontificating Priests, I’d say “pity”.

This is further evidence of my theory that the world is full of ‘real’ or authentic things which prove to be what they appear to be. Then, there’s imitations of those same things.

People pretending to be compassionate; people pretending to be priests; pressed-board pretending to be plywood. We are awash in fake things!

Furious was a more accurate expression of how I felt. I’d be lying outright if I said I meant to express compassion for such a fake.

Compassion means to suffer with. Christ suffered with us- I learned lately at a Catholic Church with my sister. He experienced every pain, humiliation, rejection, and abuse- the whole totality of awfulness a human may endure- so that He could say genuinely: I know you and I love you. And, be believed.

It’s very sad and beautiful. Now, I understand why Catholics love Him so much. He is not paying lip service. Jesus is authentic. He expresses love that no fake can mimic. It’s love above and beyond all our imagination. World Without End. Amen.
Choose Your Words Carefully

May 14th, 2025

What an odd phenomenon that the past several years I lived in an environment where I’d be abused most hostile-y for saying something outside the ‘controlled narrative’ of acceptable speech. It’s odd because Jesus says: You will be accountable for every word you speak.

Ok, Jesus, I get. It only took about 8 years to sink in, but I get it!

I wonder if writing words is the same as speaking them. My object of writing was to make sense of my existence, create some order out of chaos. And, I am discovering some order that pre-exists me, so that I don’t have create order myself. I can just align myself with what is true. Otherwise, I am toast. The world is fraught with danger for me.

I have to do inventory. This would have been great to know sooner. One doesn’t want to waste breath on speech that is not fruitful. This experience of living in a controlled environment certainly taught me how to choose my words carefully.

Words are powerful. They can hurt. Cause fear, pain. Confusion.

I need my existence to make sense and matter. Also, I would like to have some kind of orientation to the world that is not dominating (trying to control). But, I can not allow myself to be dominated either.

The world now is so full of words, people speaking constantly, I am going to need a filter. I don’t want to create fear, confusion, or pain, for example. Also, I’d like to avoid people who have no filter. So, that I am not absorbing verbal toxins.

Unguarded speech is like verbal toxins. That explains why we should be careful what we speak.
Experience or Control?

May 13th, 2025

Its nice how nature volunteers volumes of information about our material existence. So, that we are able to negotiate and survive in our environment.

Natural world witnesses to a sublime realm that is nice to experience. I am relaxing my habit of trying to control things. It seems to be working. And, the stress associated with maintaining ‘order’ seems very unhealthy.

I confess, I enjoy travelling, trying new things. Getting away from “the world order” as I knew it and believed it to be in Massachusetts where I’ve lived most of my life. It’s a more controlled environment than down south. More order creates more stress weirdly.

There’s so much more to know about being a human being, than serving a ‘machine of state’ which seemed to be my only option. If I adapt the political ambitions of the state I can be part. If I didn’t, I had to go scratch out a living somewhere on my own.

Doing what I am told is not exactly in-grained in my being. Especially if you tell me to do something doesn’t make sense.

For example, it didn’t make sense to force healthy, low risk people, children and babies to take vaccines when there was no certainty of their long-term effects. There used to be laws against scientists using the public for experimentation.

The news ‘advertised’ a constantly updated death toll, so that we could all live in fear. Everyone who died (who had been exposed to Cov_d) was counted as Covi_d, even if the person got hit by a car (so clearly not killed by Cov_d).

More deaths equals more money from the gov’t, I was told. Incentivising death seems rather disturbing object of gov’t.

Then, nobody subtracted out how many old people die every year from natural causes. So after doing that, the total of Covi_d deaths was about half reported in T.V.

No flu deaths were reported, I heard from a reliable source. So, if we subtracted a reasonable guess how many flu deaths occur annually based on yearly estimates, it reduced the death toll in half again.

Roughly speaking, the death toll was about how many people die of fentanyl poisoning a year. Nobody (except the current President) was trying to close the border to limit drugs coming in! Or, taking any extreme measures to stop that problem.

University of Chicago reported Cov_id deaths were highest among people with low vitamin D levels: Black people, elderly people who were institutionalized, and Alaskan people who get less sun exposure.

We’re supposed to stay in our houses and where masks constantly when fresh air and sunlight and Vitamin D were the best things for us? Good grief.

Considering me non-compliant from now on. I’d rather take my chances being killed by a drone than following along with the crowd. Even if they are the so-called ‘educated’ crowd.
Limits of Logic

May 11th, 2025

I believe that pity is not the appropriate response to my angry feelings towards priests. It seems right to recognize and have pity (or compassion) on all human beings in light of peril of we all experience. But, instinct is nature’s warning sign, that defies, or supercedes or (is a bit outside?) the realm of logic.

Anger is something we don’t reason our way into necessarily. We experience it when we feel threatened. Our physical response that is triggered can save us from harm. But, it can be like an ocean wave that can easily turn over my small vessel if I am not careful. Good grief, how does reason even function in the passion of anger?

So, the Rrrrrrrr I observed and wrote about earlier- is inherent in our beings- and is celebrated in the art of Delacroix. It’s the life force. Where does it come from? Anger, then, is a natural part of that force and part of the experience of being.

According to Chat, the Ai who I consulted to find if their was a relationship between mystery and mastery, said to me: “Some things are to be mastered and some things are to be experienced.” So!

It’s possible I ruin life’s experiences when I try to master them and subordinate them to my control. Maybe somethings I can just experience? If it sucks, I can just say to myself, or anyone who may be interested, the universe. “Hey, it’d be great if that guy knew what he was talking about about!”

I know, what I know, what I know to be true inside, there’s a guide in there, see? Priest or no, if you are not making sense, I don’t believe you. Here’s a little hint: if you want to tell us about Jesus, start with the letters in red.

Is anger to be experienced or mastered? What role does logic play in managing our emotions?

I am trying to experience anger. Then, in order for my head not to explode with frustration when people claim things about God that don’t make sense, I plan to make snarky, irreverent remarks. Because, seriously, Jesus is probably sitting on His throne saying, too: “Good grief, what is this guy talking about??” “I said the words in red. Red words!”
Mastery and Mystery

May 10th, 2025

I mentioned the male figure in nature and remarked it/him to be a pitiable thing yesterday. It may be worth explaining in greater detail why I believe that is true.

The architects mainly of the existing world are men, and as it is falling apart, perhaps animosity generally speaking towards men has reached it logical conclusion. So, we can stop trying to level civilization to the ground in the name of equality. Mission Accomplished!

Men, by nature need to master things, by ‘men’, I mean the family of human beings male, female, and children. I’ll use “human beings” from now on instead of men, because people foolishly believe “men” to mean only male human beings. It will be obvious eventually why such a distinction is necessary.

Anyhow, I experienced such a happiness mastering some small task lately. And, it occurred to me that confusion, chaos, our social engineering, the media all serve as distractions from our inner world. Our realm that is sovereign to ourselves and ours alone.

And, men (male human beings particularly) seem outside that realm almost. Cerebral, excellent problem solvers, emotionally detached, logical like Spock. And, it’s the only world they know- what they can see, touch, manipulate (for good or ill) in the material world. The brain power excels at finding and creating order, perhaps. That where male mind thrives? Mastery of the material world and himself in it?

But, the mystery that alludes them is Life itself. Which, despite all their engineering, building, striving, they are powerless before that inevitable unknown.

Imagine striving s lifetime for mastery of that unknown and failing? And, see to what extents men particularly will go to control what is uncontrollable? The unknown can be terrifying. Madness results from men being so obsessed with control (the need to control the uncontrollable- so, fear essentially is the motivation). They wind up destroying the place.

So, the mastery of life itself is impossible for men to achieve because of its infiniteness. It’s possible that is why the subject of Mona Lisa is smirking at Leonardo D’Vinci?

Life itself- and women as the image of God in female form, the givers of life)- are a mystery they cannot solve. Or, must go to great lengths to achieve any such mastery in the pursuit.

How maddening! And wonderful if she lets you into her secrets!
Beauty

May 8th, 2025

Aweomeness may be a poor word choice for the splendor of Virginia in spring. I tend to think when your gasping for air because you are unable to think or speak in the presence of such loveliness, one is in “awe”. I’ve heard man say that is the feeling he experienced when he first met the woman of his dreams. He was awkward and flabbergasted.

Not only are women generally lovely, but they hopefully cherish and value all that is good. So, that a man feels devoted to her kindness, objectivity. Contention, when necessary. And so thereby he derives benefit by enjoying the process of becoming his better self. It’s good to have reminders.

Beauty has that effect of transcendentalism. I see it, I stop breathing. And so- by lifting me out of discouragement or self-doubt- any disrespect, abandonment, or unkindness I am experiencing dissipates. It’s like looking in a mirror and seeing only love.

Beauty doesn’t mask pain like drugs or drive one to extremes ends to avoid emptiness or pain. The sublime realm of the natural world sees me just the way I am and loves me. Unless I am behaving like a beast. Then, it contends for my own good- because I am making ugly a world clearly meant to be beautiful.

So, that’s great. I don’t want to spoil the view!
Awesomeness Explained

May 7th, 2025

In the macro culture, I identified what will be awesome when the god’s of global commerce are exposed and their machinations brought to ruin. On a personal note, I am experiencing awesomeness on a whole new level.

I gave up my beautiful house which was called Mulberry Farm Antiques and Herbs a decade ago, where you may have visited my mother’s shop and voluminous gardens. It was painful and not by choice (not by my choice anyway). But, when I arrived at Lynchburg, I noticed the profusion of flowering trees…

Red buds grow like birch trees! They seed generously any spot they can find- making pretty purple hedges along the highways. A road by my house is lined with dozens of decades old Kwanson Cherry trees. (Not to be confused with cherry trees from which we get cherry wood). These are flush with pink carnation-luke blossoms in early spring which fall like rain on the landscape making a fragrant carpet.

There’s magnolia trees that are sixty feet high! So, ‘a much longer growing season here. They are lush with evergreen foliage, a gorgeous and sturdy tree in both cold and hot weather. One movie I liked was called “Steel Magnolias”, a testimony to the strength and beauty of women, I believe, well-named.

The memorial park in my neighborhood has one of each kind of tree that are so bountiful in the South. Huge and glorious- like a living testimony of nature’s intricacy- fascinating and delightful.

What seemed a cruel eviction from a home and garden I loved, was actually an avenue to a massive garden with many more glorious trees and a whole town inside it.

I am glad in the rush and crush of the modern world, I remembered to be grateful. Otherwise, I may have continued feeling sorry for myself and stewed at what I perceived was an unforgivable injustice. I wouldn’t have seen the grand and beautiful display unfolding before me every moment.