There is a problem in this society that, while noticed daily, is sadly becoming more and more ‘acceptable’. It is not a problem that is Democratic or Republican, wealthy or struggling, and it knows no racial boundaries either.

Before I call out the problem, I’m going to step back to something I heard the other day, while watching a documentary on Talk Shows in the 1990’s. The folks that made the Springer Show were talking about how, in order to save their jobs and keep the show on air, they decided to go with the ‘sensational’ topics that they believed young people wanted. I believe the phrase, ‘we just gave them what they wanted’ came up more than once. And that, I believe, while certainly not a smoking bullet, that it is this mindset – this “Give them what they want” attitude, that has led us to the place we are now – where civility is labeled as weakness, and anything less than arrogant capriciousness is considered to be somehow lacking in character, or even ‘less human’.

The 90’s talk show spectacle was more wild and sensational than what we see today – but that is partially because we’ve become used to it. When the envelope *is* pushed, it goes much farther than before – because that is what is required to get attention. And we now crave attention, like a child craves candy, like an addict craves cocaine, like an alcoholic craves booze.

Notice, in each of these parallels, we (mostly) have enough sense to realize that, just because someone craves something, doesn’t mean they should have it, when it is BAD for them. And, like giving in to the addict and getting them high ‘because the wanted it’, we did a disservice to the country by giving in to the ‘craving’ for 24 hour sensationalism. Now, you can’t even turn on the Weather Channel on a sunny day without seeing something that is designed to catch your eye, in much the same manner as a train wreck catches your attention. You see something that you cannot process, and find you cannot look away.

Many people were made very rich, and many have done it by just ‘giving the audiance what they want’. Sounds a little too similar to ‘I was just following orders’, but that is another discussion.

Now, when academic achievement, intelligence and respect are passed along as weakness, stupidity and foolishness, we have new kings ruling the roost. Piousness, baseness, and entropy are now wearing the crown in America, which is just what the puppet-masters behind the curtain have always wanted. Because an ignorant society, convinced of their superiority, is always more easy to control, and to subjugate, leaving the hidden virtuosos to profit on the backs of a fallen society.

So, what is the problem in America today? It’s pretty simple, really. No one listens to hear another person – they listen only to build a response. The educated are cast as fools, and the weak-minded believe in their hearts that they are the chosen ones, so they question nothing they are told, as long as their Emperors keep telling them how special they are (all while robbing them blind in the process). What they fail to realize is that their new emperors are still wearing invisible clothes, no matter how regal they think they are. The rest of us, and much of the world, sees right through to the bare naked truth. And while we may work to return civility and academics to their rightful places (along with respect, and meaningful conversation), we will not simply join in and normalize the crowd that flocks to see their new kings parade around like the jesters they are.

Remember, remember – the *6th* of November (midterm Elections)

I’ve seen some discussion recently regarding the afterlife – either the belief in eternal nothingness, the idea that something perpetuates when the body dies, etc etc. And there are people here that hold each of those views, and a hundred of variances in between. I felt that would add my two cents (.007 cents after taking inflation and currency exchanges into account).

The ‘big question’, as many cultures see it, is what (if anything) waits for us when this body dies. I believe that we truly cannot know with absolute certainty, for many reasons. Sure, it makes sense scientifically that once the electronic processes inside our bodies cease to function, that any modicum of what would classically be called a ‘soul’ or ‘spirit’ would also fade out. Like a light bulb being switched off, as the electricity leaves the element, the light ceases to shine. End of story.

Or, maybe not. Consider that same science, which is an ever-growing exercise to understand the nature of the universe around and within us. One hundred fifty years ago, there were wavelengths of light that we had no idea existed. As little as ten years ago, things like the Higgs-Boson particle were theorized, but not observed. Many highly educated people were uncertain that it existed, or that we could ever ‘prove’ in any meaningful way, that it existed. But, with time, patience, and science, we did prove the Higgs-Boson was real, and observable.

So who is to say that the same may not be true of the spirit? That, in some form, the essence of us continues to experience awareness, in a way we simply cannot observe and measure.

So, what about the afterlife? Like the very concept of the soul, I believe the notion has been framed in a way that humans could relate to; and lets face it, for most people living today, concepts that are abstract, or go beyond what they can see or feel without thinking about it, are far too complex. It’s only when you introduce math, science, quantum mechanics, etc, that a truly ever expanding universe of possibilities starts to become imaginable, let alone relatable.

I for one take comfort in the mystery of it all. If this really is all there is, here and now, in this moment, then each moment is still an undiscovered country, ripe for exploration. But, in the infinitesimal chance that even a sub-atomic particle of our life essence continues to experience any form of self-aware existence after these vessels have stopped living, what wonders could await you? Sure, it is unknowable for us in this form of existence. But there is always tomorrow 😉

I know some people who feel like their life has no meaning. Some are not religious, and others are. And I see people from both groups suffering under the weight of thinking that no matter what they do, there simply isn’t a reason or a purpose that means something to them. Now, I hate to sound harsh, but to me, the question of ‘meaning’ is in and of itself simply ludicrous. From a scientific standpoint, we all are links in a chain that supports an ever-evolving life cycle on this planet. From a spiritual standpoint -we are here; shouldn’t that alone be enough? If there *is* a higher purpose behind the existence of each and every human (or – let’s expand that to *soul* and include all sentient life on earth) then that means there is a higher being with a web of pre-determined plans, making us all pawns in a game on a scope so large and timeless that we are totally incapable to seeing it in any meaningful scope. So, in many ways, the question itself begins to grow so vast that we could never begin to comprehend the answer even if it were handed to us with an outline and summary explanation page.

But that does not have to mean that life is So, I look to give my life meaning by raising my children to be happy and well. I work toward meaning by being kind to others, by defending those who cannot defend themselves, and by working to bring peace to the lives around me. And if that fits into a more ‘grand plan’ on a cosmic scale, so be it.

One day, I will die. I will either completely cease to exist, or my consciousness will continue in some form that is beyond what we can know. Regardless of which is right, I can’t spend my life worried only about an afterlife; that misses the point. Live for each day; love where you can; create art, literature, teach children, grow old. Dance. And if there is a deeper meaning to it all, now, or even in an afterlife, at least you won’t have wasted your *life* wallowing in the mire of feeling meaningless.

Find your joy, and you’ve found all the meaning you need.

another lesson I’ve learned; you can be a good person, but when you put your heart and soul into someone who is not right for you, it can poison *both* wells – turning you each into people that do not truly define who you are. And eventually – – you have to forgive yourself. You don’t have to ‘forgive’ them – but you should, because eventually you remember that holding on to the hurt that led you there – that just isn’t who you are – it’s who you became when you were with them.

One moment, one hour, one day, cannot define your life. For people who think otherwise – how truly sad for them, that they live in that moment, instead of moving on.

If the Dead can dream, can we ever know what’s real?
by D E Dykes

They say the dreaming dead lay sleeping, deep in the earth and sea.
They say they dream of lives they lived, and what they thought would be.
In their dreams they see the sun, shining brightly in the sky
and lounge around in shadows cast, not knowing that they’ve died.
Some say that in the fields at night, you’ll hear them screaming so
in the moments when they wake, and see their dreams all go.
So one must ask, if you can, between their muffled cries
When you see the dead can dream
What you’ll dream, when you die?

‘a child once strode upon a battlefield, three days after the decimation of the army of light. Alone, with only the dead for company, she stepped lightly through the fields now littered with people she knew. They now lay before her, working hard to become one with the earth below her feet.

As she walked, she could see them all. There was the baker, next to the mailman. Just down the row was a teacher she’d had as a little girl. Next to her was the policeman, and the fireman that had stayed at her side when she lost her mum and dad in a house fire.

She walked among these corpses, who had been so utterly destroyed in the battle. “Why did they have to die?” she asked herself, as she closed the eyes of the people she loved. “How did this happen?”

“It happens, my love”, she heard a voice say. But before she could respond, it continued, “as it has happened time and again, throughout the long forgotten tales of your people”.

She looked around, seeing some of her loved ones sink quickly into the ground. Then, she noticed a particularly cruel neighbor in the fields, eyes staring open against the fallow sky. But the earth rejected that person; no matter how much rot and fungus enveloped her body, nothing left went back to the earth.

The girl asked aloud, ‘Why won’t she go? Why take my loves – my friends – and leave this cruel woman here, even in her death?”

The voice answered, as a gust of wind, “She brings hate; and no matter what she says she hates, her true pain was hatred of herself”.

The girl knelt down to her, and reached out to close the woman’s eyes; but the immediately opened again.

Before the question could be asked, the voice of the earth answered, “When she is ready, after lying here on the deserted field of a battle that never needed to be fought – only then will her torment end. Only then can she be at peace”.

“But, that’s so sad” the little girl said, standing up from the hateful, loveless woman, and taking a step back.
“How can we help?”

The voice formed a whirlwind beside her, taking the vague form of a man. Reaching out to caress her shoulder, it gestured with its arm to show her the bredth of the land around her.

“Billions, my love,” it answered. “It takes a billion heartbeats rooted in kindness and love to truly show one rooted in darkness that there is a better way”.

The girl reached up to take the whirlwinds hand, feeling its fingers gently hold her own, as they blew between the digits of her own hand.

“Then, how can I help?” she asked, her heart overfilling with emotion.

The wind looked to her, looked into her heart, and answered, “You’ve given her all you could, my child. It’s up to her now, to take that to a place that will save her”.

The girl still looked to the woman. Outside of the battlefield, she’d known her. Not always cross, but always sad, though she could never understand why.

“I’ve one more thing I can do”, the little girl said. With an understanding nod, the whirlwind released her hand, as she walked toward the eternally dying corpse of the hateful woman, who lay dying on the eternal battlefield, eyes wide open, and unable to be closed.

“I know you, miss,” the girl said, “but I don’t know your name”.

“Name?” the dying woman asked. “By what name would you know me, you foul, pittiful thing? I’ve never debased myself to consort with vermin of your ilk!”

The little girl knelt, and held the dying womans cheek in her hand.

“That’s alright, my lady,” she answered, tilting her head to one side, so the sun, low that it may be, shone brightly against the shadow casts by ‘her’ head. “There is a place for you. There is peace.”

“How would YOU know?” the creature intejected, becoming less human with each passing moment.

“Because – I remember you” the girl answered. And, as the creature, once human, lay there dying, here eyes finally opened wide, as a little girl held her tight.

Some say the embrace lasted seconds. Other say it is still occurring. Regardless, the innocent love of one being reached out, in the darkest of places, and showed one who was eternally cursed to live in hatred, the real power that comes with love, with forgiveness, with kindness.

Be that girl; live that kindness, even after your life.

A thought occurred to me – forgive me for the length.

History tells us that we (Americans) used to be a people that longed for peace; but that simply isn’t true. We wanted peace for us, first and foremost; peace on our terms with no compromise.

We came to this country and saw natives. They weren’t all living in peace with each other, but even if they had been, our ancestors looked at the new world and said ‘Ohh, shiny! Mine!’ and over the course of a few hundred years, all but exterminated the natives and took what they had. All so we could ‘live in peace’. Thing is, we were the aggressors. But History is written by the victors, so our history books for years have taught generation after generation that we were ‘defending ourselves’. Never is the tale told in full.

When we declared Independence as a Nation, we used terms like ‘Liberty’, and ‘Prosperity’ in our most sacred documents; so Freedom and Wealth are goals – what about peace? The word ‘Peace’ is only said three times in the Declaration of Independence, and each time it is pared with a statement on war. Indeed, in the Constitution itself, the word ‘Peace’ is only used four times. A more appropriate word instead, used at the time, would be ‘Tranquility’. But even here, it is ‘to ensure Domestic Tranquility’. And again, knowing that, at the time this document was written, not all people were considered ‘people’. Women had no rights, Slaves had even less, so that countenance to ensure ‘tranquility’ is still (at least initially) a statement of , ‘Give us what we want, and there will be no trouble’.

Yes, we have fought for some good causes in our history. And yes, not all of our struggles were selfish ones. But to assume that we, as a people, hold some kind of moral high ground, when you look at our own history of belligerence and intolerance, is most certainly in error. Americans are often base and crude, which is forgivable. But we are also often cruel, and unjust, giving excuses of a non-existent moral turpitude as the basis for our imagined superiority. And we should be better – but we are not. And no assumed superiority changes that in anyone’s mind but our own.

We as a people may say we want peace; but that is not true. We are, in a very broad sense, a war-hungry, bloodthirtsy civilization, whose appetite for violence is not thrust upon us by literature, movies, of video games. The base instinct of American Culture is one of conquest, racism, and raising oneself not by a rising tide, but through acts of vengeance, theft, murder, and outright terrorism. As much as our history touts all the goodness we have done – there is a shadow that’s reach goes much deeper, much farther, than the light we’ve cast. And now, that dank underbelly of our history, that has walked alongside us, driven us, and shaped us in ways both silent and boisterous, has circle back on us, and as the Ouroboros, devours what it has created.

“Today’s topic is Death,” Mrs. Shoemaker announced to the debate team at the front of the class. “In position one, we have Reagan Keller; with an opposing view, we have Olivia Dyett

Reagan walked gracefully to the small podium at the front of the class, and adjusted the microphone to accommodate her height. At eighteen, she was already tall, slender, and intelligent. The only problem with Reagan was that she knew it.

“Mrs. Shoemaker, how could any of us be alone, ever?” The class barely settled down, and Reagan had to turn up the volume on the mic control. “We all know that God is around us, within us, every moment of our lives. Walking beside us to protect and guide us. This is a moot argument, Mrs. Shoemaker”.

Olivia sat against the wall behind the podium, rolling her eyes. “Well Reagan, it looks like at least one person in class doesn’t agree with you. Olivia, would you care to speak?”

Olivia stood, and walked pasted Reagan to approach the podium, her bangled arms jingling quietly as she moved. She didn’t adjust the microphone, though her small stature would have called for it. Instead, brushing a swath or purple and black hair out of her face, Olivia stood took her place next to the podium, and began speaking, her voice solidly taking hold of the room.

“How could you be anything but alone? Let’s say you were struck by a car – the very essence of your life is spilled out on the ground around you, and a loved one defies their fear and panic to rush toward your soon-to-be lifeless body; they grab your hand, covering themselves in your blood. They speak to you. You can hear their cries, feel their tears, as…”

The classroom had fallen totally silent, completely enthralled by the young woman’s words. Not even Reagan spoke to challenge her, so she continued.

“As what?” Olivia challenged. She stepped away from the podium, her ‘classic’ flared jeans hiding her sneakers. “Here’s what we know, what we’ve proved, happens as you die. First, your vision fades; darkness begins to swap itself for the bright sky you had just seen above you, and your heart finally stops, having run out of anything to pump. Very quickly – within thirty seconds or so, you can no longer hear or see, and the only scent you can hold is of wet iron. It sits, tingling your nose, but that too is shortly gone.

“So – where are you? Your mind still has activity at some level for several minutes, as long as your head was undamaged, but the essence of you – of who you are – is locked away in your lifeless mind for that time. You can neither feel nor see the person who was moments ago just holding your hand. Maybe they’re still there – maybe they aren’t. You’ll never know”. Olivia stepped slowly back to the podium, looking down briefly, then lifted her head to look Reagan in the eyes. “As your brain slowly turns out all the lights, you are indeed in an empty room, the last occupant to close up shop.”

Olivia looked back to Mrs. Shoemaker, who stood open-mouthed at the back of the classroom. No one said a word as Olivia turned to go back to her seat.

After an uncomfortable moment, Mrs. Shoemaker spoke up. “Olivia, that is a very dark way of seeing the world.”

“Yes, ma’am; I suppose that it is. But you don’t know the things I’ve seen”. Olivia sat down, adding, “And you don’t want to”.

Never forget that you and I have a gift that those coming up behind us do not have; we have the vision that time has allowed us. It is not wisdom, and it is definitely not superiority – but it IS a gift, if we choose to share it with those who have more life ahead of them than we do.

The best thing you can ever offer your children is your time, your thoughts, and yourself. If you take that from them – someone else will (hopefully) step in.

This is what it means to be alive. Live it.

Hello Everyone! The New and Improved www.derekdykes.com is now up and running! Please stop by, take a look around (and pardon the mess – we’re not quite finished yet!) and let me know what you think!

Want to know the America History that led to the Reorganization of the US, and the creation of the Dark Zones? Check out the ‘Center for the Preservation of Historical Fact‘, and read an in-universe essay outlining the horrible events that took place.

Want to preview the first chapters of my books? You can do that here as well. You can also catch up on work that I have coming up, convention appearances, and more.

I’m still adding artwork – let me know if there is anything you would like to see me offer!

-D