The Birds and the Psycho Bees (Pondering Love and Death)

Our bees got slaughtered.

We started a hive in the backyard last spring. It had problems and never really got going. Bottom line, it was a weak colony. Then we made a rookie mistake. We spilled sugar water. 

Technically, I did. But this is a team effort. My wife and I share the victories and defeats. We spilled sugar water on the hive and didn't think anything of it. The next morning, the bees were swarming. 

They were active. Like super active. Usually they're only like this when they're returning with pollen before sunset. Now it was all day. And there seemed to be more of them. A lot more. And there was fighting--super aggressive, dead bees on the ground fighting.

Here's what happened. 

It's autumn. Flowers are folding and pollen is scarce. But winter is coming. Bees store honey to make it through winter. Bees also take it from other bees. Especially weaker colonies. So essentially what we did was invite another colony to annihilate ours. That's exactly what we did. 

They slaughtered their own kind--their own species--stole their honey and drank their sugar water and that's it. It's like Vikings in the insect world flying in on their boats and just taking shit. Total annihilation. Nature is to the goddamn point. No police, no lawyers or laws or any bullshit. Kill and survive. Do what it takes. Sucks to be you.

I win. You lose.

We're out of that food chain. I don't think we're necessarily kinder than nature, perhaps our cruelty is more sophisticated and, in that case, more devious. I mean, bees just take honey because they want it and need it. They only slaughter their own kind because they're in the way. They don't pretend to be your friend, they don't gloat or dance on the corpses of little dead bees. They just do it.

So what do bees love?

My wife and I have been married 26 years this week. We started out together relatively young and made it this far. A lot of that is luck--luck in the sense that we're both very sincere in making our relationship work. I'd say we love each other, in the traditional sense that word is used. We say it all the time. 

But I'm not sure what love is, exactly.

Is it being physically attracted to each other? Is it liking the same things? God, both of those help. I mean, when we're into the same things, in particularly each other, oxytocin is a powerful drug. But then we aren't always on the same page. So then what, we love each other less? We like each other less? 

What does like have to do with love?

We got lucky. We matched up early on when we didn't know shit about ourselves or the world just that we liked how it felt when we smashed our faces together in the back seat. High on oxytocin, we kept the dance going. Then life got real, we didn't always get what we wanted, one of us would sacrifice something for the other and vice verse, sometimes resentments would linger, we went through some real real shit, sought counselling, learned to meditate, had kids, a couple of dogs and here we still are. 

It's 30 years. 

Marriage, I think, is a great vehicle for personal and spiritual growth. It pushes buttons, forces us into corners, keeps us from holing up in a bachelor pad with an Xbox and a cooler of tall boys. Always on our toes. And sometimes growth means ending a relationship. A friend once said divorce was not an option for his wife and him. I said divorce always has to be on the table. Choose it or don't. This ain't the Great Depression. No one is trapped.

I don't know what love is. I know bees love honey. I mean, they kill for it so they must. I know I'm in very deep like with my wife. I like her company, the way she laughs, her compassion and sincerity. We give each other room to screw up, to reflect, to grow and to come back to the table. That's the love part.

Plus she's hot. 

I started writing this thinking she would read it and it might get me laid. But then I read through it and that's probably not going to happen. The bees are dead and I don't know what this is. I just know I love her. And hope we keep dancing. 

Organic Prisoner

I cracked the seal on a 31 year abstinence.

I quit using Skoal when I was 19 years old. I started when I was 15. My grandpa did the habit for almost 70 years. He was from the old country, a man who worked the steel mills and didn't trust doctors. He once refused to let a doctor look in his ear because he would charge him if he did. He was just there for the medicine. Later that week, he was politely informed he was not welcome at the clinic.

He didn't trust dentists, either. A waste of  money. And he never brushed his teeth. Maybe ever. His teeth were a disaster. Eighty years without a toothbrush and seventy of those years marinating in tobacco juice. They looked like rotten logs. But at the age of 80 he still had most of them. A modern day miracle.

But I didn't start dipping tobacco because of him. All my friends did it so I did it. But at 19, my gums were hurting. The day I went through two cans was the day I dropped the habit. It was not an easy one to give up. None of my friends ever did. And then last summer, 31 years later, I decided it was time to plug back in.

It was glorious.

It was like 31 years went by in a wink. I was right back in the summer of my youth as I systematically rationalized my way back into the habit. The good news, it only lasted a month. The hooks weren't deep enough for the habit to haul itself on my back. I mean, if I got throat cancer I was going to feel like a real tool.

We're prisoners to the nervous system.

Most of my motivation comes from sensory pleasure. The more subtle forms come from other things--winning, succeeding, pleasing others, ripped abs, you know the deal--but it's all in the same pot. Most of the time, I don't realize self-gratification is the pheromone I'm sniffing. I wish I could turn the compass off. All these emotions that allowed us to survive the hard years of evolution are a bit of an albatross these days.

Wouldn't it be sweet if we controlled our nervous system?

You know, willed it to not be so hungry. Willed ourselves not to be irrationally frightened, emotionally needy, or unnecessarily cruel. I don't want to feel the way I do a lot of times. I'm irritated over silly things, holding a grudge that's not helping anyone, feeling hurt over the slightest oversights. It's stupid. I would like to say just stop it and stop it.

It's questions like this that drive my story lines. I also can't help but imagine how one of my Zen teachers would answer the question. Who is doing the willing?

Solid answer there.

HALFSKIN was my first series to explore this question. Now I'm plunging deeper into that quicksand with the MAZE. What if we could control our nervous system? What if we could synthetically produce stem cells (biomites, Halfskin fans, amma right?) that would put our bodies in our control. Would the world be a better place? Would we be happier?

Is happiness the point?

We interpret the universe with 5 senses. Maybe more, but 5 are all we can measure. And those 5 aren't always accurate. There's a lot of research that highlights our delusion. The rubber hand experiment, for one. The disappearing dot, another. So we control our nervous system but we're still prisoners to the senses.

And senses can be manipulated.

Once under the influence of THC, I had a glorious experience with my wife. Weed, like other substances, magnifies our emotional state. And my wife and me were in a great place. I was full of oxytocin that evening. And every word she said was like a jewel. I couldn't wait to hear her say something, the words so delicious and lovely. I could not have been more in love with her. Why, I wondered, can't we just exist in this state every damn day? Why isn't this our default setting?

We probably wouldn't survive.

So can our senses be trusted? I dunno. I mean the world was a completely different place when I was in that beautiful space of THC. I was only there for a couple of hours, but if I was there 24/7 for like 30 years, I would have a completely different opinion about life. I would totally not understand depression or fear. If I could will this body into submission, I would put it there.

But we're products of organic evolution.

So the Maze: The Hunt for Freddy Bills (Book 2) (I changed the title, if you noticed), explores the 5 senses, who we think we are, how we determine reality, and what exactly is true nature. How did all of this begin? What's the point? I'm more than halfway through the rough draft. And I like the way it feels.

Of course, that's just my perception.

Killing Time and Illusion

I kill an hour every day. Minimum.

I get in the truck and drive half an hour to work. That's a round -trip hour of staring through glass. Used to be I'd listen to Bob and Tom but the commercials were insufferable. Ever watch the last bit of the nightly news or Oprah?

Welcome back from commercial. We'll be right back.

Like half the people in Charleston, I race to work so I can get there 3 minutes earlier. But it's not so much to save time, it's something to do. It's winning the race to the next light.

We don't want to die but we're constantly treating time like it's a burden. Half the time I'm lost in daydreams. It takes a great deal of effort for me to stay present and only lasts several seconds when I do. On the meditation cushion, I'm in my head at least 97% of the time. As a writer of fiction, that plays in my favor.

Daydreaming gets a lot of writing done.

For a while, I killed time with audiobooks. I read (past tense) a lot of books (That's what I tell people, that I read a book when I listened to it. Is there a difference? There is, but still. I read it.). In fact, when I was reading a good one, I couldn't wait to get back in the truck. I didn't mind traffic. I went the speed limit.

Now it's podcasts.

They've been around a while, I know. But not until I got Bluetooth in the truck did I really dig in (if you don't have Bluetooth in your car, get this nifty jumper, it'll change your life) . You can download this app (Overcast) and choose from thousands. Currently, here's my queue:

The Joe Rogan Experience

Rogan is good. Uninterrupted, long form interviews. Everything from Neil deGrasse Tyson to Ron White. They get drunk, they get high, they go on for hours. Rogan is not afraid to challenge his guests, he's funny as hell and can carry a conversation with any person. This is my go-to.

Armchair Expert with Dax Shepard

Relatively new, Dax's podcasts have soared up the charts. He's my wife's favorite. He is a Howard Stern superfan (Stern is, hands down, one of the best interviewers. If you haven't listened to him in a while, try again.) and sort of emulates his style. He's dead honest, completely transparent, and witty as hell. Sober 14 years, it's different than Rogan but just as captivating. 

Waking Up with Sam Harris

One of the most notable modern day atheists, Sam's podcasts are often well above my intellect. I know his guests are speaking English, but I have no idea what they're saying. I don't get through many of his podcasts anymore, but occasionally one drops down to my average intelligence. The thing about Sam is his command of the English language. I sometimes just want to hear him talk. His word choice always seems so perfect. His delivery, though, is as dry as a saltine and, at times, sounds arrogant. 

I know, I know. There are way more and better podcasts out there. Trust me, I know. There's only so much time in the truck, though. I can barely get through all the Rogan uploads. In fact, I'm way behind now. I just finished Rogan's interview with Banachek. What makes Banachek so interesting--besides the mindblowing magic--is his dedication to exposing fraud. Like Penn and Teller, he tells you this isn't real magic, he's not actually reading minds, there is no evidence of real telepathy. He's using deception to make it appear that way.

But man, it sure seems like it.

Banachek has quite a few episodes on exposing charlatans who claim to speak with the dead, who see the future, and, more importantly, swindle people out of money. He's well known for exposing a televangelist who was straight up conning people to throw away their medicine and fill his baskets with money. Banachek is an honest liar. And a damn good one.

Temporarily, I've returned to audiobooks. The producer of The Roots of Drayton has submitted his files. I'm using truck time to listen for quality control. The hard thing about having someone else read my books is hearing it match the voice I had in my head when I was writing it, whether it's the sound or the quality or even the emphasis. This guy is pretty close to what I heard. And a bit of a Morgan Freeman vibe sometimes.

The Roots of Drayton audiobook will probably launch in October. Just in time for Halloween. And I'll be giving them away. So it's sort of like Halloween meets Christmas. Not the Krampus kind though.

Just the presents.