An Anatomy of the Age of Delusion

Having spent my formative years travelling and exploring the liminal, I was a stranger to religion. My parents, like most WW2 survivors, were pretty messed up. Although it's clear that they were each raised in their own strict environment of ethics, any values it might have had were clearly damaged by the horrors they experienced. Just the same, my aspirations didn't have a hope in hell for all the contention and criticism. In fact, it seems most of my generation in Europe, had much the same opposition to deal with. It's like the war never ended, but simply took on ever more subliminal forms of persecution, expecting us to conform to an industrial complex that caused the whole problem in the first place. “You have no idea what it's like” was the usual diminutive, denying any pending problems that did not fit their war-addled definitions of a worst case scenario. Some called it the “Generation Gap”, but the fact is they were just too demoralized to ever get over it. PTSD was unheard of in those days. No surprise that we took the only course of action under such miserable circumstances, namely revolt. Hence the so-called 60s “counter-culture” brought on by the Beatles and other young artists.

However, I was not so much a Beatles fan, rather, living so close to Holland at the time, I had the underground music scene completely at my disposal. Whatever was too unorthodox for the popular media was more my element- but it was not as if I was looking for role models, rather, exploring the great experiment called life. All that mind numbing double-morality being preached at us by our peers, simply lost all meaning in the face of mutually assured destruction...and despite all delineations between that perpetual us and them, the enemy of our enemy was not necessarily our friend. Unfortunately, my family's stateless legacy had me stuck in the cold war grey zone. Hence, my spiritual journey was not in quest of nirvana, rather, the long hard road to civil liberty without someone breathing down my neck. In that regard I was never a believer in divine intervention. Yet the more I tried to distance myself, the more I became a person of interest, especially for my ability to read between the lies. Of course I didn't buy into all that new age jive, albeit the paranormal, esoteric or ancient aliens for that matter. It only creeped me out to see how many fell folly to that euphoria of mystique. A new secret weapon of mass mind control by the wanton puppet masters of the no-zone. They wanted in so badly they virtually landed into their own foul trap and it was without fear or remorse I gleefully burned all those bridges behind me. What were they expecting from a hedonistic infidel like me anyway?