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I am considering taking Jordan Peterson’s Self Authoring thingy. But I am unsure if it would be helpful for me. I am an engineer and my brain works a little differently. The deterant is the price, if it won’t help, the cost is an absolute loss, if it does help thenit would be worth it. I recently turned on the radio and heard Dennis Prager talking about how the ability to communicate clearly is indicative of an organized mind or somesuch. And while I often have trouble communicating clearly when it comes to things that are engineering related my memory seems better I can hold a complex machine design in my mind and see how all the parts are interacting and what problems might arise and how to fix them just leaning back in a chair thinking without paper and pen.

I often write out short poems to get a sense of my own emotional complexities and to feel something in times where I feel somewhat numb. I'd like to get a poetry topic going, I searched for one and couldn't find any. So this will be a topic for those who want to share poetry and comment on each other's. Pain Everyone I've ever known Has left me to be alone I'm desperate for connection Of virtuous reflection All I really wanted was love And I was always left with a lack thereof My head pounding with rage heart aching in this cage Rejected, neglected, and played Dissected, elected and made To feel as if I could trust Completely blinded by lust How do I escape this mental prison Where are those with the keys? To be from the dead risen Is all I ask please.

Here are some notes I wrote on Facebook. I've gotten some positive feedback, including people letting me know that I got them thinking differently. That was very rewarding. Hope you enjoy! https://www.facebook.com/notes/damen-easton-liebling/i-hope-you-are-not-annoyed/10153925659376800 https://www.facebook.com/notes/damen-easton-liebling/message-for-my-bernie-maniacs/10153886968176800 https://www.facebook.com/notes/damen-easton-liebling/on-noam-chomsky-and-anarcho-syndicalsim/10153886948011800 https://www.facebook.com/notes/damen-easton-liebling/anarchy-for-liberals-and-everyone-else/10153653398281800

Self-Knowledge Daily Introducing a new Medium publication, written and edited by FDR listeners, "for those doing the daily work of knowing who they are." With the launch of Self-Knowledge Daily (SKD), I want to share more of my reasons and purpose for starting a Medium publication, and for what I hope to achieve with it over the horizon. I have called it a “daily,” but the word refers more to the frequency of the work than to the frequency of the publication. I do not want to pressure myself, nor anyone I invite to contribute, to publish daily. At the same time, the work — for myself and for those whom I invite — is a daily pursuit. In my case, I am in my seventh year of self-work. If I fear failure in creating a publication, I realize I cannot fail. I’ve already been doing the work without fail every day for a time period that approaches fifteen percent of my life. My challenge is now to increase the openness with which I express and share the work I’ve been doing. With that goal, I view SKD as a funnel. In a sense, that’s all self-knowledge is. You place the funnel, and you begin pouring your true self into it. For seven years, my funnels have included personal journals (I’m currently working in #35); therapists, counselors, and coaches who have done their own self-work (I’m working with #6); and conversations (countless) with friends and people who also put themselves on the track toward personal growth. SKD is a funnel and a filter. Part (if not all) of my struggle with writing and self-expression is that up until now, I have not become clear enough about who my audience is. I say “become” because to a large extent, to become anything is a choice. I have, with direct purpose and pursuit of awareness, spent years funneling myself into these various private self-knowledge receptacles. Now I also want to clarify and funnel a public audience into a more precise receptacle, which I’ve created and called Self-Knowledge Daily. My audience includes the people already doing, talking, and writing about the work. As long as my audience included people who were not doing the work, and as long as my attempts to express myself included wanting the wrong people to understand and support me, I failed to express myself. It is not possible to be heard by people who don’t want to hear. Fighting to be heard — or giving up while remaining in the presence of incurious people — never helped me. Now I hear them, I empathize with their choices, and I leave — in favor of interacting with and supporting people who do want to understand. These people make themselves known by asking curious questions of others and, on a daily basis, of themselves. I want to achieve the depth of knowledge that is possible in life, and I can only do so as much as those closest to me want to achieve depth as well. Changing anyone who has not already placed themselves on a track to self-growth is impossible. The only train I can hope to turn is my own. I can hope, however, to find and put my energy toward people who have deliberately, and in pursuit of awareness, placed themselves on tracks heading in a direction that runs parallel to mine. One of these people asked me yesterday why I chose the picture of black mountains under a pink sky to represent SKD. My first thought was that I didn’t know. I knew when I saw it that I immediately liked it, so I used it. I could have stopped at that answer. Instead, I looked at it again and asked myself: “What do I like about this picture?” The image sums up exactly my focus and goal with this publication: When you ground yourself in knowing who you are, and you join others who are doing the same, you gain the weight, size, and security of a mountain — and happiness lifts over the horizon. [This article was originally published on Medium.] Read, follow, leave comments, and join us in pursuit of knowing ourselves. Cheryl

Hi, I know this isn't the exactly the right place for my Post to nestle up into but I'll be frank with you all. I couldn't find the right forum section for my post. To cut to the chase, I have started writing a novel which is a contemporary piece dealing with themes such as human interactions, human dysfunctions and peaceful parenting. It isn't going to be a slow piece like a female author's attempt at a "class and society and romance" type of novel although I am not knocking those novels and I must add that I don't intend to appear sexist by saying a "female author". It is a turn of phrase and an attempt at accuracy! Anyway, mine's going to have action and set pieces and adventure included in the finished package. Not just mountains and smatterings of Hardyesqe and Hugoesque type descriptions and conversations. Part of me is saying, "You can do this Owen", "You only live once, follow your dreams!" and "You could make a living this way and it does suit your temperament". And the other part is like, "You will be hopeless at it!", "Critics will say you are sloppy and uninspired" and "what if you are successful, do you want to deal with the consequences of being set apart when part of you sees yourself as a charming everyday man of the people" If it fails and I can't get published. Well I can fall back of my love and passion, the French Language. Thanks, green eyes

Sadly, I am currently going through the public education process. Thankfully I will be done within a few short years... Anyways, when I was in the 3rd grade a large part of our curriculum was cursive writing. Our teachers always told us we would need cursive for the rest of our lives and be actively practicing cursive throughout our "School Careers". However when I reached the 4th grade this was not the case... Cursive Writing has been completely erased from the curriculum in public schools. After about 2 years all that was learned of Cursive by my peers had been lost, unless parents had been teaching them aside from their normal curriculum. For this I have one question: Why has the state found it fit to stop teaching part of our language? I have thought about this for quite some time... Conservative radio hosts claim that the government is taking away the ability to read The Constitution, While others typically on the "Liberal" (I hate the miss use of this word in american politics so much) side of the argument say that cursive is obsolete and in the way of progress in our computer age. I personally have used my knowledge of cursive writing to read my Grandmothers memoir of her families journey to emigrate from the Weimar Republic to the US, and of their struggles to survive the Great Depression in a poor German community. So for me, cursive writing is a vessel of knowledge and highly revered. What do does Freedomain Radio think? Is the state trying to take away our ability to read and understand our founding documents? Or is it a useless chicken scratch that has no use in the modern age? Maybe something else?

When we think about happiness, I think people imagine the feeling that pleasure brings you, the uplifted mood, the quenching of some hunger, the relief that comes from being giving to yourself instead of denying yourself what it wants. Happiness is what occurs after one is done realizing the enriching flow of satisfaction, happiness lingers and is always there, its there when you are thinking more clearly because you got up out of bed, and made time for yourself to get some exercise, it is there when you have friends who genuinely love you for who you are, and it is especially there when being courageous leaves you stinging in the gut afterwards. You realize in these moments that happiness is continuous, the brighter path that one takes everyday because they did what was good, not only for themselves but for their loved ones, the ones they respect now and the ones they may never meet in the future, it is the effect of virtue. Happiness is waking up loving the fact that you are alive, it is all around respect for existence, and it pays off when you look around and see the world, dark as it may be, with cold people sleeping on the steps off of the street and cold people in the buildings as they lurch over them and shrug their shoulders. I imagine they live with that guilt, that realization, deep within themselves, it must be there, that they are somehow not living a life well lived. Happiness is the little things, its having the love of your life respect you, its also showing them that the world is not so lonely and hostile. But pleasure on the other hand is what tears us apart, it reaches into us like a spectre and becomes us, it is the addiction to happiness without the cause, the nihilistic notion that nothing else matters so we will be content, living shortly, briefly but without pause to consider what exactly does short term gain actually get us. canker sores, and loneliness, and beatings that are too many times done by ourselves, by that with is perceived as good and wholesome, the sheep in sheep's clothing that leaves one feeling alone, and vain and self destructive. A little bit of a rambling, I began writing and just let it flow, avoiding distraction. maybe happiness is rambling, on and on about the things you love and avoiding the distractions that tell you it cannot be so and that it is not worth it. ~Feel free to tell me what you think about what I wrote. If anything doesn't make sense, if you would care to expand of some of the concepts that you think I am getting at in this little description. By all means, expand upon this, someone else write a story about pleasure and happiness, a poem, a picture, (Philosophical) Quotes, anything really. I am interested very much so in the importance that this distinction has in living a good life. Is pleasure always bad? are there different types of pleasure? share some stories about how you became happier, share one of the happiest moments of your life...

I wrote an article on why government consumer protection is a danger to society and why private systems would be safer and more efficient. Tell me what you think, you can find it here.

Hello everyone. I'm working a fiction project of mine, and I wanted to try a different style of writing for this one. The story is centered around 3 teenagers, Flint Coal, Mally Tate, and Errm Kladson, from a small town in America in the near future, on their pilgrimage through the wilderness in search of a place that holds the mysteries of the past. This project in particular is heavily inspired by Chuck Palahniuk's Rant: an Oral Biography of Buster Casey. It's a great book, and it's formatted as a series of interviews with people who know the main character, and as more and more people are interviewed, you begin to put the pieces together and unfold the plot. It also has a similar rural Americana flavor for large sections of the book. So anyway, this is the first interview, let me know what you think. Does it make sense? is it intriguing? Is it overdone? Thanks and enjoy. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Josah Huff: 58 years old, Sherman Town Sheriff “The guy’s named after rocks for Christ’s sakes. What’d you ‘spect from a guy named after rocks? Flint Coal.” He spits. “Wasn’t never good at nothin’ - growin’ up i mean. Never went huntin or fishin’ much. Never liked workin’ on the farm or helpin’ with the irrigation or reconstruction or nothin’ like that. Think when he was younger his mom tried to get him involved in the church, thinkin’ that... well, i don’t know, that it’d bring him outta his shell or somethin’. You know, all the grandeur, and the guidance of Elias an’ all. Look, I love Epsy, her family did so much for me back durin’ the End, and she’s very dear to me, so i could never say this to her face, but, truth is, if ya ask me, Flint Coal is all shell. What you see is what you get, and you ain’t seein’ very much neither.” “I don’t know what to say about him. He wasn’t exactly an open book, since he’s a mute I mean. Though I ‘spect that even if he were an open book, there wouldn’t be much to glean. The only thing he ever really did was look at rocks. Rocks an’ pebbles and such, rocks for skippin’, on the water i mean. he’d spend hours doin’ that, just skippin’ rocks. Weird right? Well, what’d ya ‘spect? He just never seemed present. What I mean is, most of the time whatever he was doing it felt like he wasn’t really there, ya know? He quit his schoolin’ pretty early on, and was never the life of the party at town get togethers if ya know what I mean. Schiff and Beck Kladson even offered to teach him how to help out with keepin’ the bees, seein’ as that was one of the few livings you could make ‘round here if you didn’t never talk to nobody. But 'cordin to Beck he was unteachable Elias said he was ‘disengaged’. So i guess the only thing he ever did, only thing he was ever engaged in, besides rocks, was with those trucks he and his uncle Goose found down by the lake. We were all surprised to see the black one drive up that morning; it’s been along time since anyone had seen one of those in workin’ condition. Impressed is probably the wrong word, no one was really sure what to make of it. ‘Specially since it was in the middle of Sunday Church and that truck was loud as hell. ‘Sides that we didn’t have much use for ‘em - the trucks I mean... well same is true for Flint i guess. Just puttin’ it out there, I don’t care much for Goose neither, I mean, he’s a nice enough guy, but he’s... Well Elias says he’s ‘eccentric’. I prefer the term, ‘screwball-and-a-troublemaker’ personally. But those two got along for some reason, Flint and Goose I mean. I don’t intend to explain it, much less understand it, but it’s the truth. He is probably the only real friend Flint had, growin’ up I mean. You’ll hear rumors that Goose is Flint’s real father. This is absolutely not true. Epsy is a respectable woman, an’ anyone who thinks she would do wrong and mess around with her own brother, as much of an oddball as he is, and then make up a story to cover it up? Anyone claimin’ that just doesn’t know what the hell they’re talking about. I’m not interested in adding fuel to that fire to let’s move on.” “No i guess. No one predicted it. It wasn’t foretold in scripture or written across the sky or nothin’. ‘N fact, I remember when I visited him on his eleventh birthday, I had given him this old uke -I played ukulele I was younger- and he, well, he didn’t know what to do with it. I sat there with him for an hour tryin’ to show him basic chords, bein’ all encouragin’ and whatnot, and he just gave me this look like - like he was sayin’, ‘what’s this for?’ like he didn’t get it, or that he didn’t like music. He didn’t even try. Anyways, that’s when i figured, ‘well, he’ll replace old Toab as the gravedigger when he grows up’. That was my prediction, and I was completely wrong. Flint Coal is good for nothin’. Not even’ grave diggin’. Well, to be fair i guess, he has turned out to be great at causin’ a big mess. Not just for me an’ his family, but for the whole damn town. Biggest issue we’ve had since those looters from Oak L’oma came up here. But it’s like I said earlier: What’d you expect?” “Elias had said -he told me a few weeks back- that he heard him talk once, and I trust Elias. Seems to me it’s a good sign if it means Flint can talk, even if he don’t ever show it. Then again, I wonder if that really gives Elias any comfort- knowin’ his daughter ran off with Flint I mean. But how much comfort can one really find in a trauma induced coma? ‘Course Mally says Flint talked to her too. Some people think that if someone’s quiet and odd, someone who just don’t fit in, that deep down they’re really a good person just waitin’ to be coaxed out. Seems to me, if someone seem off, if it seems like they’re hidin’ somethin’, it’s ‘cause they are. More often than not, what’s different is harmless, but this is an exception to that rule. No, no one saw it coming. We all thought he was just a oaf. No one would’ve guessed he was- that he would do something so... extreme. Elias and I had talked about all this before, and he said that he saw somethin’ special in that boy, even though they didn’t get along, and that one day we’d all understand Flint’s purpose in this world. But, bein’ that he’s a preacher an’ all, i mean, ain’t he gotta say that? It’s all a big mess. I can’t make heads or tails of it. Elias might be the only one who knows what Flint and Mally are up to, but I can’t wait around until he wakes up. Fern says it could be days or even weeks if - God forbid - if ever. Ask me again when i’ve tracked down and killed Flint Coal. Then maybe I’ll have some answers for ya.”