A Few Of My Beliefs

I believe that the core essence of my being is pure consciousness.

I believe that all consciousness is one infinite thing that exists in all places and all times at once.

I believe that my finite conscious experience, this present life, is no more than a page, or maybe just a name, in the eternal “book of life”.

I do not believe that this present life (my finite conscious experience) is eternal in any sense, nor would I want it to be, not even if I were a respected and wealthy king.

I believe death is a cherished friend of eternal life.

I believe that what I do today is more important than what I do tomorrow and more important than what I did yesterday. And, tomorrow I will believe the same.

I believe that each moment that I am alive (in the finite sense that any momentary experience has) extends forwards and backwards into infinity at the same time. No moment is ever truly finite, or otherwise seperated from infinity.

Screams Nobody Heard

I took the two children into the mountainous wilderness of Western Montana. I had killed an entire family, a man, woman and teenage boy, just so I could kidnap these two, a boy and a girl, aged nine and eight, to rape and molest at my leisure.

I stood naked at the edge of a cliff overlooking a dirt road that twisted and turned along the contours of a narrow valley. It was the only way to get to the clearing where I stood, staking my claim.

The children were behind me in the Jeep. They too were naked, watching and fearing my every move as I exposed myself to the forest, to the sky, and to them.

I dared anyone to see me, as I contemplated my situation. In a moment I would rape the children, but I felt compelled to do something else first; some necessary part of the script that would make my revenge more legitimate.

The instructions came, just as they always did, right when they were needed. There was something I had to say, but what?

Suddenly I knew.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice straining, booming across the valley, forming words, and challenging anyone to hear.

I screamed, “Where are you now? You fucking pigs!” Not a question, but a demand; and a challenge.

And I screamed, “How'ya gonna stop me from havin' my way with these children now, fucking coppers?!”

And I screamed, “What happened to all your power and authority, pigman?!”

Then, breathing heavily, I waited for an answer. But none came. Nobody heard my screams. Nobody would rescue the children. That was exactly the point that I needed to make. It was a symbolic formality that in my mind would justify what I was about to do to the children.

I turned around and walked back to the Jeep. I looked at the naked children, my prize. I saw the questioning terror in their eyes, and I imagined I could smell the smoldering fear in their hearts. For a moment I wanted to cry, but I laughed instead. I laugh so as not to cry.
I then pronounced their sentence.

“I'm gonna rape you”, I said, “and nobody's gonna save you, and nobody's gonna hear if you scream.”

Then I raped them.

And nobody tried to save them.

And nobody heard them scream.

(Originally written on November 4, 2010)

I am a Cowardly Ignoramus

To be clear, when I say that I am the most cowardly ignoramus that I know, I do not mean so disparagingly. I am simply making an objective observation. I am not consciously or intentionally a coward (i.e. ruled by fear), nor am I deliberately ignorant. But when I observe my own behaviors and thoughts I find evidence of both of these attributes. And though I may suspect others of behaving similarily, I can only have direct knowledge of my own cravenness, never anyone else's. Thus, I say I am the most craven person I know, because I am truly the only craven person I know.

I have also said that my greatest accomplishment has been being able to embrace my greatest failure. By this I do not mean that I condone my own cowardly ignorance, but neither do I condemn it. Instead I metaphorically say to it, “You are welcome inside my home (mind, heart, etc...), as long as you do not mind me keeping the lights on!”.

What I mean, is that every idea, emotion, thought, and experience that I have is subject to the constant “light” of consciousness. In other words, I tell my own mind, “I'm watching you!”. And then I do watch, as consciously as I can.

And what I see is an ugly mess (in places). But rather than quickly turning off the lights again, like most people do, I accept what I see, and set about the arduous task of putting things in order and cleaning up the messes, instead of merely denying my own sloven past.

I will probably not finish “cleaning house” before I am released (i.e. murdered by the government). But, my goal is not so much to have a “clean house” as it is to learn how to clean. Sometimes I even “make messes” just so I can clean them up again, and learn how to do it better.

So when I point out evidence of psychological messes in other people's lives, I only do so out of the understanding that comes from having cleaned (or at least found) those same messes in my own “house”. I do not mean to condemn or judge anyone. I'm not saying, “You should not be that way”. Instead, I am only trying to say, “You should be aware of the way you are!”

And when someone else says to me, “You are a coward!” I like to ask, “Could you please be more specific?” (that I might learn something new about myself!)

What Poe Didn't Know: An Answer To A Dream Within A Dream

I took your kiss upon the brow!
And, in not parting from the Now
Thus much let me avow -
You were not wrong, to deem
That your days have been a dream;
But, if hope has flown away
It alights upon another day,
And if in your vision you have none
Is it thereby forever gone?
All that we see or seem
Is yet, a dream within a dream.

You stood amid the roar
Of your own tormented shore,
And held within your hand
Those grains of golden sand -
"How few!" we heard you weep
With seas of sand beneath your feet,
And yet you weep – and yet you weep!
My God! why do you vainly grasp
What must defy our mortal clasp?
My God! why do you seek to save
The very sand that fills your grave?
If all that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream,
Perhaps the answer you should seek
Is who we are, when not asleep!


Inspired by: A Dream Within A Dream, by: Edgar Allan Poe
Received (and written) by: Joseph E. Duncan III (March 2011)

The Weakness of Anger

If you think that getting angry makes you stronger, it is only because you are weak to begin with. Anger is a sign of weakness and fear, nothing more. The only strength that comes from it is superficial and desperate. The only purpose anger serves is to help a mentally weak person to overcome obsticals that any strong healthy person can surmount in stride.

There are no obsticals in life that a mentally strong and healthy person cannot overcome; not even death.