ZENBLUEPYRAMIDMEMEAs a certain British thespian I am quite partial to once said, “Sometimes Evolution takes a giant leap forward”. He believes that, I believe that and now all of you Zenners can believe it as well. Typically the contributors, editors and writers at ZENINTHECAR.COM take an annual hiatus so that all of us can recharge our batteries and plot a course for the next year ahead. As you all are aware, our hiatus this past year was exceptionally longer than usual but all of us are better for it and now we think you will be as well. While most of the core contributors have been dispersed across this great country in the past few months and of course the issues of life have yet to cease for all of us as individuals; we honestly were still a little fuzzy on what course to plot for the war weary and battle scarred Starship Zenterprise… then in a flash of light something miraculous happened. A giant leap in the Evolution of our thinking took place; there was no time to wait until the next hiatus. The Starship Zenterprise needed a refit and it needed it now.

So as we put the site in dry-dock, Sabrina Black and myself took on the endeavor of making up a new blueprint of how the site would be structured, what it would offer for you guys as well as what courses we would chart. Pushing all distractions aside, she and I poured our hearts and minds into developing something that once christened, would not simply be a step or two forward but instead would be well beyond what we here at ZENINTHECAR.COM have dared to do thus far. Essentially Sabrina and I decided to go all in on what the site could be and let the chips fall where they may. You may have noticed that for the past week or so the site has been under construction without fore warning, and now we hope you see why. Not only do we have a new look to the site, but so, so much more.

Out of the gates Sabrina Black’s Divine America has completely made its way home here at ZENINTHECAR.COM so you Zenners out there don’t have to go surfing the web (do people still “surf” the web anyway?) to find your favorite contributor’s work. We also have joined forces with Americanfreedomradio.com to not only offer you 24 hour live broadcasting from its brilliant programming, but have somehow convinced nationally syndicated radio show host Chuck Ochelli to join our crazy train by contributing as well. Those of you who have enjoyed our guest appearances on The Ochelli Effect have made it known that the on air chemistry the three of us start mixing is worthy of a more consistent and long term intertwining. Your wish has been granted, The Ochelli Effect now has a presence on ZENINTHECAR.COM sure to whet your appetite.

Our good friend Jason Patrick (Jason the First) is also back on board with Jason Patrick Live. In his campaign, The Fight for Freedom Never Sleeps, Patrick has truly been the embodiment of ZENINTHECAR.COM with his relentless travels to any part of the country where Freedom and Liberty are being threatened and need a spotlight (or smartphone) to expose over reach by state and federal “authorities”. So be sure to catch his live feeds across the country as well as all his past broadcasts on our home page.

Dylan Wade has also stepped onto the Bridge with his column Wade’s Reviews. While the rest of us are going on and on about politics, enlightenment and all the rest; Dylan will be providing us with the guilty pleasures of pop culture critique in any niche he sees so fit. Don’t head to the theatre, or rent that PS4 game before checking in with Wade to see if it’s actually worth your hard earned monopoly money printed by the federal reserve.

Once the Zenterprise gets underway, I will also have my own little corner to blog about anything I wish to blog about without the confines of politics or spirituality at Down Loaded Content; also underneath the ZENINTHECAR.COM banner. I won’t go much further with that because quite honestly I don’t intend to plan out what I will or won’t write over there so you might want to expect more flow of consciousness from that particular corner.

zenterprizeWhile all of this in itself is quite an Evolution from where we have come from; there are still other contributors in different veins of expression getting prepared in the background to join us in our great enterprise and more features and services under development. We hope you are looking forward to what else we have up our sleeve and ask that you pardon our progress as we continue to grow on the fly. Until then please take the time to jump around our site and see what it has to offer thus far and don’t forget to like and subscribe to us on Facebook and YouTube. We look forward to hearing your feedback and as always; Enjoy ZENINTHECAR.COM

Very special thanks to Sabrina Black and Chuck Ochelli for all their hard work, passion, drive and belief in this bold new direction. None of this could have been possible without their talent and dedication.




“Fear keeps us focused on the past or worried about the future.”
– Thich Nhat Hanh

“When we are tired, we are attacked by ideas we conquered long ago.”
– Frederich Nietzsche

BREEINTHEMOONLike the unforgettable lyrics of the song that demands replay, finding light in a void of darkness is a cycle of the records spinning on your record player. For many of us, the thought of overplay demands we change the song, while for others the sweet serenade is a comforting and a familiar awareness of what has been, what is, and what’s to come.

Though some will succumb to embracing the cycle with open arms, like a bad relationship they can neither seem to love or walk away from; others are capable of recognizing the repetition as nothing more than the self-torture it is. After all, the conquest of the cycle is often seen as more of a challenge to the weak minded then undergoing the torture itself; especially when we can rely on the knowledge that all things will come to pass, and our cycle will eventually start anew. Though the opportunity to break the cycle is ever present, there are those who require a more obvious chance— typically accountable to the fact that it’s recognizable and therefore easier to pursue. Can you recall your such opportunity? Did you seize it, or let the moment escape you?


Just over a year ago, the opportunity presented itself to yours truly, and I eagerly jumped all over it. Fearlessly, I rode a tidal wave of lesson upon lesson of self-reliance, personal responsibility, faith, fear, love, survival, and most of all, happiness. Though to the known world (at least those with cable access), my lessons would be—like me—naked and exposed in the bare truth for all to see. (Which was fine, as I feel it was the greatest test of transparency I could offer.) Yes, I was naked, starving in a jungle for 20 days. Yes, there were highs, lows, successes, epic failures, tears, laughter, confusion, and above all else, understanding—the understanding of achieving happiness amidst the turbulence of what some would call chaos; but one in which I only knew as paradise on earth.

I recall then knowing the temporariness of my discovery if I failed to replay the record of my lessons. Unfortunately, to be able to do so I wrote off as an impossibility due to the greater challenges awaiting me at home—other people, and the influence of the world. However, I walked the path as best I could despite its obstacles. Little did I suspect I would once again be my own obstacle, but that is indeed the familiar parable—face yourself.

At the opening of the year (2014) I took an oath to use my powers for good (not that I have used them for bad, but more that I really was not using them at all) and spread a message influencing others to do the same. As an activist in the mission of righting our country, I charged the new year with one goal: unity through love. I now know it set off a beacon that has been targeted by demons, of which many I defeated. Some were more hard lessons. In particular, having to step away from my team on account of a message I eventually found to be flawed. It begged of me to embrace division—in its most diabolical form—as action against those we’re supposed to believe in: law enforcement.

After partaking in events against police, organizing pages that showed others how to become a thorn in the side of law enforcement, and training with groups for an eminent attack; I was re-introduced to my mission of unity, and attacking (not physically) LEOs was not inspiring that. So, I put a distance in my associations with the team. Once again, only this time without a team of support, I came under fire for my newfound respect for law enforcement. Though much of the criticism was more skepticism by those who allowed themselves to be plagued by the images of such pages as The Free Thought Project and Cop Block; I persisted in playing devil’s advocate, but in a respectable manner (for I saw a greater mission at risk of being sabotaged). Unfortunately, I’d be lying if I said the virus of such thinking didn’t still linger in my mind that an uprising of police would be our undoing, but I vowed it to keep it in quarantine. That’s when the virus took an even darker turn, and the focus shifted to radical Muslim terrorists. Spoiler alert: this one did (and still does) plague me.

For as long as one could, I refuted the evil of an entire population (which surprisingly—my team was in absolute agreement too). But I’m a mother of three young children, who (despite my being a witch) attend Christian churches for pre-K and Sunday service. The amount of images running through my mind of a lone wolf radical, or even a group of barbaric mercenaries, exacting the sort of evil I saw portrayed in the news stories was like a fog contaminating the message of love for all and unity.

The shift in my thinking turned to despair and lost hope. Patriots appeared shrinking back, accepting of whatever was to come with the defeated nonchalance. It was literally overnight that my power of influence took a turn for the worse and I was acting no better than my Christian brothers and sisters demanding to see justice enacted upon an entire civilization of people amounting to 0.8% of our known population— regardless of their hand in violence. Not that I don’t have love for the Christians, either! My disappointment is not in their Christ, but in their churches and followers who do not act Christ-like. But that’s an entirely different title altogether and we digress. Perhaps having spent too much time in these churches, I began to adopt their system of thinking that we must rid the world of the Muslims before they have the chance to come for us. To me, it seemed sensible—the radicals were killing in the name of their god, and in my mind, I altered the same train of thought into: “I’m just protecting my family’s beliefs.”

Like so many others, I made these ideas public, and in so doing generated much support from my mostly Christian followers. It was the boldness of only two of my five thousands followers that reminded me that I took an oath to “harm none” when I sought upon being a witch some 20 years ago. Though I stood by my convictions, I listened to the only two people who saw the truth and light in me getting dimmer. I witnessed the verbal attack on them who called me out—reminding me that only a day earlier I pled for unity, love, and light. That’s when it dawned on me—the fog had become so thick, I was no longer able to see my own light—that my message ought to have been written in the sand on the shore at low tide only to be washed away when the once gentle wind turned virulent and kicked up the waves.

Darkness is a place I have walked in 100 times in my life, thus easily it can be found comforting. It was a hole I—like so many of you reading this—have fallen down before. Farther and farther we fall away from the source of light until it is almost nonexistent or too small to fathom trying to stop the fall. The reality is, as challenging as it may be, all one must do is put their hands out to brace themselves from falling further. And as difficult as the climb may appear to be, use what strength you have left to climb back towards the speck of light that remains. And if you can imagine the amount of strength it can take to lift yourself up this hole towards a glow that might as well be miles away; then you know it won’t be an easy feat. But it can be done. And if you focus on just the light, you’ll see it get larger and closer within reach with each effort you make.

As someone who’s been to the bottom of this dark place more times than I care to admit, I promise you can get back to the light, too. More importantly, you must. I say this because, as I knew then when I first discovered it and I know it still now, that the frequency and vibration of love is much stronger than the fear that drives us to think these things and act in the vile manner we do. That is why I am a witch—naked and no longer afraid of the darkness and being alone—my power is for good, and yours can be, too. But you must first recognize the darkness that has consumed you and make massive strides in conquering it. Fear is what keeps you in a swirling vortex of hatred and chaos and believing that the only solution is one that calls for the slaughter of millions.

Above all our labels, we are Americans. United we stand. And in the darkness, only a beacon of light can draw so many to have faith and hope. I hope to be one more light to guide you home. Light and love, brothers and sisters, and blessed be.


zenseason4picInsomnia is very much like being asleep in many respects. Or rather I should say it’s like being stuck in a waking dream where nothing is solid and most things are completely lucid. One day bleeds into the next and that one into another one and your eyelids grow heavier and heavier yet your mind refuses to shut down. Kinda fun when you get used to it. Sleep deprivation; it can become a legal drug that no po-po can test for when you know the proper amount of dosage.
In the wee hours of the morning I was going over footage Digital Hourglass had for me to review regarding ZEN IN THE CAR T.V.’S upcoming documentary, Western Independence: The Cliven Bundy Incident, featuring a notable Jason Patrick. I stepped out for a moment to the patio to massage my eyelids and began contemplating the crew of ZENINTHECAR.COM coming back in 2015. It is no secret to any of our subscribers that 2014 proved to be quite a challenging year for your favorite activist/philosophers and the unusually long break we have had was well needed and well deserved. But now it was time for us to stretch our rested laurels and get back into the swing of things; however this time with the experience and lessons of the last few months under our belt.
What would this year be about? I pondered. What would be the goals that we collectively had aside from the fact of bringing news and enlightenment to the keen eyes of our subscribers? Last year there was no doubt that we went above and beyond in showing the corruption in the system; local government, state government and of course national government. Great, so now we are all well aware of the problems we face from interactions with local police to the dealings down at city hall or state capitols, now what?
The way I figured it, I would have to do as I did at the beginning of last year and have an audience with the Divine in order to attain some sort of guidance as to where I should plot a course for the good ship Zenterprise. Of course last year that required a fatal car accident documented in Zen In The Car Crash: Welcome to Year Three, and I wasn’t too eager to repeat such an incident. So this time I opted for a much easier transition to the afterlife through silent meditation. A few incense sticks, candles and silent mantras later and I found myself once again in the throne room of the All Mighty.
“You’re in my chair.” God said.
I opened my eyes only to see that I was in fact sitting in God’s throne.
“My bad. I was just keeping it warm for you.” I said.
“This makes, like five times already.” God replied
“Well what can I say…” I shrugged, “…it is a rather comfy chair.”
God squinted at me with the expression of naughtiness on his brow. It didn’t take him long to waltz over to the nearby coffee bar where his hands began working magic.
“Caramel Macchiato?” God offers.
“Too sweet for me, howsabout a cappuccino?” I retort.
God gives me a wink and starts to whip of the tasty beverages of our choice. As He does I wiggle about on his throne looking for the sweet spot.
“So, I hear it’s time for you and the guys to get back to work.” He says over the hisses of the ornate java machine.
“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” I answered.
As the aroma of caffeine filled the throne room I watched God reach behind the counter and withdraw a bag of wasabi Funyuns.
“Are you serious?” I exclaimed, “I thought those bad boys had been discontinued?!”
God popped one in His mouth and the sound of the crunch was…most Divine.
“They are. But let’s just say I know a guy who knows a guy.” God answered.
“Well don’t be a douche about it, fork some over man. I haven’t had wasabi Funyuns in a few years.” I demanded.
“Get out of my chair.” God insisted.
I cock my head to the right with a contorted and confused look on my face. Decisions, decisions. Give up the throne for a handful of wasabi Funyuns or not? Well at the time it seemed worth it. So I popped out and made my way to the mini bar in order to receive a handful of that Asian goodness. The caffeinated goodness was served alongside of a basket of the yellow rings I so desired and after a few munchy crunches, God was back to business.
“So you guys are about to come back for 2015 I hear.” God said.
“Uh huh, and it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if you gave me some advice on exactly what we are supposed to be doing this time around.” I replied.
“Well I don’t know, I mean last year you guys seemed to be trying to set some sort of record on how many times you could get arrested over frivolous, victimless crimes, and you managed to catch the attention of every po-po officer with a badge in your town and state so I guess I would like to know how that’s working out for you?” God asked.
I lick the wasabi from my fingertips and think for a moment. I wash it down with creamy froth from my cappuccino and smirk.
“Well getting arrested is always balls, you know how it is; Pontius Pilate and all.”
“Yeah, that guy was a yes man if ever there was one.” God snickers.
“So you tell me, what are we supposed to do this year?”
God takes a moment to think then eyes me curiously.
“Well let me ask you this; what have you guys learned during your break? What have all of you been doing?”
That was a good question. It took me a moment to sort it out. When I did I honestly didn’t know how to relate it to the All Mighty.
“Well Jason Patrick has been on walk-about. He left the state to do some self-exploration, to re-examine his purpose I suppose. He spent most of last year laying himself out there as a martyr and a leader and it took a toll on him. So I suppose he has been spending his time reinventing himself and re-evaluating how this Revolution needs to be fought.” I answered.
“Uh huh, and how about Bree?” God asks.
“She’s been busy with Divine America. I also believe she has been busy trying to understand how the Light overcomes the Darkness even though the Darkness most times feels so strong and so triumphant. She knows we win in the end, I just don’t think she knows how just yet.”
“What about Jason Turner?”
“Turner? Oh that’s an easy one. Aside from throwing himself head first into the Derrick Grayson campaign anyway.” I reply.
“Ah, I hear that’s going to be interesting.” God interjects.
I grin from ear to ear.
“Oh that’s going to be quite the roller coaster ride. If there is one thing the establishment doesn’t want it’s a candidate that is willing to name names and speak it as it is. So having Grayson run again, especially with Team Zen behind him…this will get rather interesting.”
“But on a personal level?” God asks.
“On a personal level I think Turner has been learning how to be more thankful in his own life, to see that one must take care of one’s own self before taking on the well-being of others. How can we be any good to others if we are not good to ourselves?” I answer.
God takes a sip of His caramel macchiato, palms a few Funyuns, and then continues.
“I hear you have some new blood as well?”
“A little bit, yeah. We have David “Preacher” Ballangee joining us this year. He’s a vet as well as an old school friend of mine. Highly intelligent, highly opinionated. I don’t necessarily agree with all his spiritual views….”
“You don’t necessarily agree with all of mine.” God interrupts.
I shake it off.
“…however his opinion is highly valued.” I finish.
God comes out from behind the bar and takes his place on the throne. A smile comes across His face because it indeed has been kept warm. He fumbles for His PlayStation 5 controller and logs on. I can tell God is nearly done with this conversation.
“And this Monica Maze you have recruited?” He asks.
“Pure spiritualist. In touch with the feminine Divine and no stranger to police corruption. She should prove very effective in the coming year, as well as the other poets and authors I have found. I trust we all have your blessing?” I ask.
As the Sony logo appears on God’s hi-def T.V., I prepare my departure.
“It seems you already have everything you need young Crumpton. What more do you need from me?” God asks.
I have to think for a moment. I have finished my tasty beverage and ran through the gauntlet of those I have chosen to be my partners for the next year; what more is there?
“I suppose I would like to know what we are supposed to do. I assembled the team but I don’t know exactly what you expect from us.” I ask.
God smiles as He logs into His online account.
“Let me ask you this; what have you yourself learned while on break?”
I wasn’t ready for that question. So I had to go deep inside on the fly to find an answer for the All Mighty. It had been a while since I actually thought about myself or my own path and this question forced me to face that. It took me a moment before I could muster up an answer.
“I think what I have learned is that I am fine all by myself. I think I have learned that my identity is mine and mine alone. It isn’t dependent on anyone else. I am who I am and no one, or no thing can alter that without my consent. I think I have learned that above all else, to mine own self I should be true.” I answered.
God smiles. He wipes His mouth and types in His password.
“Then get back down there and show them how a peaceful Revolution is done. You have all the answers you need.” God answers.
There is always that moment in between transitioning dimensions where you have a moment or two to evaluate what transpired. I suppose with this particular transition I had the epiphany that last year we here at ZENINTHECAR.COM were highly effective in demonstrating what the problems in our current state are, and now something new must be tried. Rather than demonstrate the problems, I had the overwhelming feeling that it was now our duty to bring about solutions to the problems. The police are running rampant over our Rights; the politicians are scheming with personal interest in mind and public opinion out of mind to the detriment of our Constitutional Republic. We all know the cancer; perhaps it’s time for a shot of vitamin B-17 to cure it.
For too long our generation has been at the mercy of the state; the mercy of the old guard which have dictated to us the way things ought to be or perhaps the way they wanted things to be. Sure, no one here believes that all police are bad, or all politicians are crooked; that’s a generalization we are not ready to make. We believe there are still some good seeds out there, though isolated they have been. For the next year it is our goal to reach out to those souls within the system that still believe in the ideal of America that was handed to us by our Founding Fathers and the Constitution they entrusted us with. We know that it must be done in a peaceful and informative way and we hope that with Divine Guidance we shall be successful. This country and this world cannot afford another violent Revolution, and so much as it is within our power we all will ensure such a thing never comes. Through education, enlightenment, and common sense solutions we will turn this ship around; you can bet your wasabi Funyuns on it.
So I do as I am told and descend back into the flesh body I have known for oh so long. Here I am, back on my patio. My eyes are more relaxed and my mind even more transfixed. Another year before us, one in which we aim to offer solutions rather than the problems. Now that we have the blessings from the Divine, who knows what will become of us? To you and yours, Namaste.




photo from marketingforhippies.com

As a writer, I am never one to try and waste a witty tale or clever little story. If anything I know that in order to be a truly prolific writer, the pen must be fueled by experience. While on hiatus I have come across a strange little of obsession of mine as of late; triggered by a trip to the attic on a cool and rainy day. After shuffling some boxes around I came across something I hadn’t really paid much attention to for the past decade, give or take some change. It was a steel lockbox, an old safe my dad use to keep his stacks of rolled pocket change in after collecting for a few months. I suppose this too was a little obsession I picked up from him-emptying the change from your spent cash from the day into a jar or a container; saving up for something special you will feel you have earned. Perhaps even the occasional guilty pleasure. Nevertheless, over time he grew weary of that particular safe and it passed down to me to who would use it for an altogether different purpose.

I was a very young man at the time, going through all the “life changes” most, if not all of you were going through and keeping in mind this was before the advent of social media. There were no private message boxes to drown your sorrows in, there were no little green dots giving you options of who you would vent to, or allow to vent with you. This was beeper age. This was the age when notes passed in class looked like a prehistoric Facebook thread. This was the age before the blog where the only outlet a teenager trying to figure out what the hell this thing is all about was a diary (typically for chicks, guys don’t keep diaries, it just doesn’t sound right) or a journal (see, doesn’t journal sound much more masculine and serious? I know, right?).

Now, for those of us who kept these little logs of our life, we can attest that these black and white speckled, composition books or bound diaries secured with a lock quickly became our closest companions. They were the keepers of our deepest, darkest feelings in a time of insecurity. They were our mother and father confessors while the winds of change were roaring in our ears and the sand beneath our feet was fleeting like water. While in them, we knew we would receive no judgment, no condemnation, and no argumentation. We would only find a silent friend letting us bleed on the page. Some of you merely piddled with the idea and kept one or two, thought they were silly and tucked them and the idea of it away. This was not the case with me. I am a writer; I was born weaving looms of tales pulled from the ether. So needless to say, my journals would be perceived with much more dramatic intensity than the journals of most youths of different callings.

In the age before the internet had started to put on its big boy pants, a writer had to make whatever they could into a magnum opus and reach any audience, by any means necessary. My own personal journals would be intended for an audience. But I wondered at thirteen years of age; how to solve the logical dilemma. How could I keep a journal with my deepest, darkest, most intimate thoughts and feelings about myself, about the people around me, about my family; and yet still write for an audience? There had to be a loophole, and I thought about finding it. After some thought it was shown to me in a glimpse of the Divine that the simplest answer to the problem was to write for an audience that was removed from the players of my life by either space or time. This is kind of like a writer’s “Prime Directive”; maintain the third wall between writer and reader. Blur the lines of the written words from the events that inspired them, but leave enough breadcrumbs to let the audience know those words were indeed inspired by truth. This is the safest way to throw hints to the characters that they are just playing a part, but not smash them in the face with a frying pan of this notion. The only thing left was to figure out what audience would fit within those parameters.

I suppose at that age when the world began waking up in new ways, I sorta felt it in my bones that whatever my life was going to be, it was going to be interesting and I had every rebellious, teenage cell in my body screaming I was deep, down determined to screw up…a whole lot, along the way. But hey, it’s not all bad. Just as convinced of that I was equally convinced that I would get a lot of stuff right. That I would have victories after defeats, resurrections after deaths, rises from the ashes. I would have foe and friend, battles and retreats, the truest and deepest loves as well as the most cruel and bitter of hatreds. Yet that notion of a writer’s pen needing to be fueled by experience pops its head up again. “You signed up to be a writer, kiddo,” I would say to myself, “it’s gonna come with the territory.”

The logical conclusion after this internal, intellectual rolling over of an idea was that I would write my journals for my children. It was my intention to pen my life and create a road map for my future progeny, should I be so fortunate to be blessed with them. I would keep them safe and ensure that when my children reached the age I had been when I first started journaling, I would be able to let them read of all my mistakes, zigs and zags, so just maybe….just maybe they would mike wiser choices than I. It was my hopes to have them thumb through the pages of their father’s life and KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is nothing wrong with them and they are most certainly never alone. But who the hell wants to read their parents old journals right? This was going to be tricky, I remember thinking. After pushing through all the details I finally ended up just sitting down with some good music, maybe some tea or some coffee in a small bedroom lit with a few candles. I would be as close to the flickering lights as I could get as I curled over and penned them to the tune of symphonic Led Zeppelin, or an early Radiohead album. All of them with title pages, introductions, prologues, chapters and blank pages in the back intended for an altogether different purpose. After every writing session I would wrap them in a red clothe, place them in the steel safe and ensure they were secured from prying eyes.

20141002_081218Over time, the pages written filled so many composition books that the steel safe my father had given to me would no longer serve the purpose I had first assigned it. Another form of holding my journals came along, but being so attached to the box out of sentimentality I gave it a new purpose. From then on I would keep letters, notes, pictures and mementos, all from the times my journal was chronicled. And while in the attic and seeing this steel box for the first time in years, all these thoughts had come back to me in a flash. The moment I saw the scribbling on top, secured by some of my dad’s black, electric tape which read “The Lives of Daniel Louis” on top with hourglasses and Egyptian looking eyes etched on either side to boot, over a decade of memories exploded in my face. Yeah, I always had a flare for the dramatic.
As outside the pattering of rain on the roof and the streaks on the windows accompanied a darkly lit afternoon; inside a comfortably cool den, my dog Hannibal and I curled up and began thumbing through the contents of the steel lock box. In no particular order we looked at Polaroid’s from my youth with the ever changing face of yours truly mixed in amongst years of the ever changing faces of the cast of characters in my life. After so many pictures and so many old letters I was provoked to go digging for the journals themselves. I pulled out some rather weighty milk crates (the final resting place of the pages of my life after several moves and new “life changes”) which contained stacks of composition books with my handwriting, as well as others, within the pages. Some dull, some a little blurry, some fine, thin and distinct…and of course the occasional illegible. At first I flipped through them at random and read an entry here or an entry there. Hannibal simply gave a huff as he watched my expressions change with each little read. Sometimes I was embarrassed at what I read, sometimes I was sad, some I was laughing, some I was simply holding a sinister smile, some were making me melt with heartache and fondness; but the ones Hannibal didn’t huff at were the ones that profoundly moved me and caused me pause. A kernel of wisdom from the mouth of a babe, some quote or poem from my younger self that reached in and moved my present self.

When those lines would come across my eyes, I would stop reading and look up and to the right, Hannibal would not huff rather he would raise an eyebrow, or tilt his head as well as if to say ‘Ah, there you are’ in the fashionable wise and caring composure of the companions that we all know dogs truly are. After taking a break from the random thumbing I decided to put the journals back in chronological order and begin reading them in the fashion they were intended to be read. Like a story, with chapters and sometimes illustrations, all pacing the rate of my life and my growth; the experience I was obtaining as I walked my path. After so many pages or so many composition books I would take a break to refresh my coffee or tea and put the pictures in the order of the story, to file the notes and letters with the appropriate time frame. Then it was back to reading, locked up memories being liberated from the catacombs of my mind. As I laid the written word along-side the pictures and little treasures from the past side by side, and took a few steps back I realized what I was building. Eerily enough, a few feet away my desktop started blaring, via Pandora, Pink, Floyd’s “Another brick in the wall.” I made a mental note to watch “The Butterfly Effect” on Netflix that night then got back to the pile of memories.

There are only so many hours in a day, therefore my reading continued for the next few days. Occasionally I would check the internet for new messages or notifications, maybe send an instant message to a friend or two about some of the things I was reading in them, perhaps get some philosophical or spiritual conversations going to better help me understand why going back over my life had become such a strong obsession in those few days. Some of them were of the opinion, or so strongly inclined to lean towards the idea that I was living in the past. Though they were gentle and kind, there was the obvious undertone of “the best thing for you to do, buddy is take all of that out back, throw it in the fire pit and light a fire!” Yet then again there were some friends of the opposite opinion. They would say that knowing me on a more personal basis than others, and knowing how I think; it was perfectly healthy for me to be perusing my past. Those friends would insist that it was therapeutic to see where you have come from so you will know where you are going. A few of them were strongly convinced with the theory that I had actually died and had found my higher self within the akashic records in the only form I could conceive of at this evolution. Therefore I had to “re-member” who I was before I died so I could reincarnate and get it right this time. I gotta tell you; those are my favorite friends to chat with at about 3:33 A.M. when I haven’t slept in a few days.

2851683772_2c7afb72d1-470When I managed to break away from the keyboard and the tiny pings chiming from my phone, I would take my walk and meditate on all of this. In between that I posted old pictures or a line from my journal or a quote to my wall. Sometimes I would just put a random song or video that reminded me of my younger self up, with no other intent than to see how it would affect my psychology and self-image having looked across the ocean of a decade or more. How would this refreshed recollection of my footprints in the sands of history, however deep they may be, change me? How would it set me on a new course? As I scurried through them I began to notice that there were indeed blatant cycles within my life. Most too astounding to be a coincidence, not that I believe in those tedious little things to begin with. There were definite patterns in the years that separated imaginary dates on calendars stuffed in a drawer and marked with special dates and occasions. Many were reemerging in my life in the present or the very recent past. I was seeing the signs and the mile markers that would allow me to change or break cycles I no longer wished to experience to those more pleasant to live out. I was navigating from sadness to happiness, drifting from heartbreak to a more supernal love, skating from anger and rage to peace and calm. The road maps I had intended for my children were, at this time, a road map for me.

I found it funny how people in your life that seem so permanent one moment, can be gone in the blink of an eye in the very next. Friends and family through the years can be compassionate and a support some years, and the most vicious of adversaries the next few. Births, deaths, marriages, divorces, relocations and incarcerations. All of these things serve as little hiccups in the stream of life. After diving into this indulgence of self-rediscovery and having my eyes opened to a great many things about who I was before I nearly tasted the shot at a family and lost it, I wondered what had compelled me to cease from the habit of writing a personal journal. Was it because I thought that soon my daughter or son would come and there was no longer a need to continue because if they don’t figure life out by that time, they ain’t never gonna get it? Was it because my life had become more stabilized at the time I quit and there was no longer anything interesting to write about? Was it because my journals stopped when I met who I thought would be the love of my life and I no longer needed them as an outlet because I believed I would always have her? Well, who the hell knows, right? I just chalked it up to, one day they began and one day they came to an end and that’s that, and that’s all.

Of course, the question was nagging the back of my mind for the next few days, though I did my best to shoo it away. As one does, one morning I find myself waking up in a hotel a little before 4:15 A.M., having to remember if I was in Birmingham Alabama, Nashville Tennessee or Panama City Florida. As usual, I did the morning routine of waking up; coffee, shower and then jump into some clothes before heading downstairs to the lobby. A fellow traveler was already turning in the keys and signing us out as I came down the stairs, there was a short whisper from the hotel clerk, and then a glance back to me as I passed by and outside to board my transportation for the day. Later in the day when my travelling companion had the chance he gave a smile with a nod and said “You should have heard what that clerk said this morning.”
“Oh yeah, what was that?” I asked.
“He saw you coming down the stairs and paused for a second and then he said ‘Man,…I bet that guy has seen some shit’.” My friend replied.

The two of us shared a chuckle not really trying to pinpoint the meaning of the comment, but finding it ironic nonetheless. And yet, though this was a witty little exchange (and those of you who know me personally will surely get the wit of it) it still strung a reflective chord within me. As the events of my past were fresh in my mind, I could certainly agree with the hotel clerk on his assessment. This reminded me of a quote I had written in one of those old journals. It was “In my opinion, Life is good. Not because of good fortune, but because of good experience. And sometimes that includes tragedy. –Daniel Louis Crumpton-1998.”

At around lunch time these things were on my mind as I waltzed through a local deli looking for a bit of sushi to sustain me for the day. Having never met a stranger, I struck up a conversation with an employee stocking the freshly made goods in the coolers and it naturally lead to me being a writer from out of state and doing a bit of travelling from time to time. He expressed how that sounded like a lot of fun and then inquired if I had a family or not. I have to admit, that question felt like a sucker punch to the gut. The instant image of “family” appeared to me as a woman holding my hand while we stood outside of a little pink house complete with white picket fence, grappling with 2.5 kids. My path had not brought me to such a conclusion and I was forced to answer the question in my mind with a definite “No”…but before it hit my tongue another path of thought came to me.

zenfriends - Copy


No, my current location in this Universe did not lead me to a wife and 2.5 kids to pass my years of experience to, but that did not mean I did not have a family. One has to ask the question as to what a family is. Can people who have no blood connection be family? Is it possible that people who have come into your life by what appears to be a random series of events, yet affect you greatly, be family? Is it necessary to have grown up with them and have all the same views, or are disagreements, distrusts and shared triumphs through weakness just as likely with those you have only known in the current stage of your life and if so isn’t this what a family is? People who apparently with no control of their own end up walking similar paths with similar heartaches and lessons from the so called hard knocks and lift you up just when you need it, knowing you will do the same for them if God be willing. Is this not the very epitome of what family is? The faces of those around me now, in my personal and professional life are here because they are exactly the ones I need to help me on the long road home. So without further hesitation I looked the employee in the eyes and gave him a firm “Yes. I do have a family as a matter of fact.”

Many miles and hours later in the wee bits of the morning I crept into my office and put down my bags, lit a few candles, turned on some shuffled music low enough for me to drift back into the dance of it, sat down and began scribbling for the first time in a long time, “How to Rise from Ashes” on the second or third page of a fresh, clean, brand new composition book. As they say, a life worth living is a life worth chronicling.

20141002_084310I know that ZENINTHECAR.COM is on its break and the crew of ZEN IN THECAR T.V. are all off finding their own voice and passion in their own way, as I am doing myself; but I suppose some of the recent private conversations I have had with many of my friends compelled me to take out the time to put these thoughts on the page regardless of the timing. I know many of you out there are at points in your life where great change is all about. They could be good, they could be bad, and they could be ones you never thought would happen or that you always knew in your soul indeed would. They may be times of loss and weariness of soul or the exhilarating days of a new start. No matter the circumstance or your current lot in life; take my advice and never be tempted by anyone or anything to put down the pen of your own life.

With all that being said; here’s a little ditty (and a taste of what’s to come next season) I would like to send out to all my family and friends. It was put together with all of you in mind. Enjoy.


The Semblance of Freedom that is the 28th Amendment


“My pity to he who fights every day for a liberty for all that he never truly experiences for himself.”

Freedom is Choice

In the broad scope of things, we may have lost sight of what it is we’re truly fighting for. I’ve said before to avoid listing the numerous freedoms we’ve lost, and to focus on what freedom we will or will not have in our future. The reason for this is because it all boils down to one thing. Freedom.

Like many of you, I grew up hearing and telling others that this was a “Free” country. The reality is that it’s not. There is nothing free in this country. In fact, what once was the very symbol of freedom is nothing more than scattered memories and images turned sour by the Elite. The definition of freedom becomes diluted with concepts of what freedom looks like, rather than what is really is.

There’s no real difficulty in moving the nation into true freedom, but the process demands we first acknowledge what freedom is. Not only are we tasked with redefining the term, but to embrace it and the challenges that come with fulfilling it. Now, I’m not a dictionary, and I’m not even using one, but I think when it comes to defining “freedom” we can all agree that CHOICE is an all-inclusive definition that satisfies what we’re after. Am I right?

Mob Rule

Consider everything you do in life ultimately rests on a choice. You have the choice:

– to get up and go to work, or NOT;
– to go spend money on a movie, or NOT;
– to have babies; and so on and so forth.

Basically, you have unlimited choices. They may be affected by such things as finances, scheduling, or some other personal reason; but the fact remains they are your choices to make. And it’s great when you have that freedom, right? That is, until they stop becoming your choice to make.

One of the factors that contribute immensely to the choices we make comes down who gets hurt the most by a decision. Most often, the choices that we want to make, or even that may be the best decision to make, are overridden by the amount of guilt we feel about hurting or disappointing others. In the end, your choice is to go along with whatever everyone else decided was good for them.

This is the very concept that leads to mob rulings. Take the one person out of the many who chooses NOT to do what the rest are doing. That person chooses alternatively, because that is their right.

But what happens?

Appeals start firing off: No! You chose wrong! You must it do it this way, or you’ll be LABELED.

Now you have a mob of people who are somehow injured by your choice to NOT comply, and they in turn run to their legislators and cry about how hurt they’ve been and what they want done to assure themselves they will never endure such hurt again.

Of course, the powers that be recognize this as voter turnout and thusly legislate on behalf of the mob.

It’s tactics like this that made your ownership of that AR-15 a threat. The mob doesn’t like your weapon. It’s scary and bad things happen when it goes off sometimes. So they cry for stricter gun laws, and the next thing you know, you’re a felon.

That’s mob rulers pushing freedom right off a cliff with a boulder tied to the foot. They simply want freedom dead.

The 28th Amendment

Perhaps as a result of my not focusing on listing the losses, I hadn’t realized just how under attack The Constitution is. Not just those first two amendments, but ALL of them.

Brought to light recently by Sen. Ted Cruz, the 28th amendment has been building (according to Snopes.com), both in momentum and lunacy, since 2009. Initially an amendment to address congressional members, the document has blossomed into a full scale attack on the Constitution of the United States. Acting as a general “cure-all” for the liberal-minded, the document reduces America to the status of a neutered dog, in order to reduce the amount of hurt felt by those who cannot accept that people are free and have choices.

Closer Examination

Among the first items addressed in this amendment are your first and second amendments. Your 1A, it’s gone; and, with what’s left of it cannot coexist in the same region as your 2nd amendment. So, if you wish to protest (which, if you can find something left to protest in the list of things you are prohibited from protesting about, I commend you), you must do so with your words, and not your protection of those words. Good luck with that.

The next article seeks to eradicate—I mean, regulate religion. From defining such words as “religious” and demanding they remove them from all things “public” including buildings, money, books, and basically your mouth; this Article of the amendment will make you shake your head. Of particular mention in this area of the amendment, I would ask you to look at Article II Section 3, which reads:

            Section 3. The United States of America is not a Christian nation nor a nation promoting any religion. Instead, the United States of America is a nation of Freedom, Equality, Justice and Equal Rights for ALL people.

Color me a conspiracy theorist, but are you beginning to see what’s going on here? Words are important, as they are received by the human mind and processed in particular ways. This section very clearly denounces the Christian heritage of America. Over any other religion chosen to specifically call out, the writers chose Christianity. Over time, mob rules such as these turn into “you are prohibited from practicing Christianity.” Ask a witch how she knows, cause just as the Pagans and the Natives were thwarted for their beliefs, so shall be the believers of Christianity if legislation like this is adopted.

Some other interesting details throughout this document include placing requirements for education and testing on Government Officials that even our founding fathers would fail. It ought to frighten you that these requirements include holding a bachelor’s degree, and passing several mental and physical evaluations. Essentially, the liberal unicorn chasers want to believe that their educational system is so valuable that no one holding office could possibly be good for us if they don’t have a piece of paper to prove they received it.  I’m not going to point out that many of history’s greatest achievements (including the founding of our country) stem from people who were mentally ill, and/or on drugs.  Considering the way of America is leaning on the passing of laws to make doing drugs LEGAL, I would wonder what pool of people that will leave us with to CHOOSE to lead us.

I can guarantee you one thing; by the standards listed in this document, whoever is left to lead this country will certainly have no religious background. Because there’s a requirement for that. Religious leaders are BARRED from running for public office or positions within public education for a period of time AFTER they have chosen to LEAVE their position of faith. Once again, asking people to denounce their faith in order to participate. And if you can’t comply with this, you will be subject to impeachment proceedings, or if you are running, your campaign will be ignored and prohibited from participating in political debates and functions. Let’s put it like this: NO FAITH FOR YOU! If your faith is speaking out loud, it’s too loud for public.

Are you getting a little mad yet? They have articles that cover education. If you didn’t think education was at a loss yet, just wait. This document outlines the provisions of government funding only to public schools. No charter schools can receive government funding. Or put simply: no funding to any source of education that could potentially educate on a religious topic. Not every charter school is a religion-based school, but thanks for limiting our choices to receive ONLY a public education unless we can afford something different. That ought to keep the religious population in check.

If that doesn’t work, certainly our liberal modification of the “acceptable” text books will help you to comply. Adding to the absurdity of this amendment, Article VIII Section 2 identifies that all educational material will be stripped of religious reference; in particular science education will convey only the idea of evolution and extrude the FACTS that other IDEAS exist. Because the only thing better than a child that learns is one that learns only what you want them to without asking questions. And for the checkers of the “other” box in the questionnaire regarding religion—who wants to answer those kind of questions, right?

The reality is, if you were truly interested in education and evolution, you wouldn’t be so scared of evolving. Education is acknowledgement of all the contributions that lead us to think, believe, and act in a certain way regardless of where they come from – science, religion, or spirituality. To negate that these ideas have had any effect on the way the world works is to outlaw freedom in the form of prohibiting education, and aids in DE-EVOLVING our species. Knowledge is power, and should be embraced along with all the questions it comes with. The lack of education prohibits freedom in that it demands your CHOICE to be an uneducated one.

As usual this document also attacks prayer at school. The injured folks can’t bear to see your child sit in prayer, so they need to keep that at home. They want to take ‘the Federal Holiday known as Christmas’ and change the name to ‘Winter Holidays,’ because it does a better job of acknowledging that variety of celebrations we have. God-forbid someone wish you a merry fucking Christmas. Sorry, I’m getting mad now. Not because once upon a time the holiday was Pagan, anyway, but because once again (if it’s still not clear) the country is going toe to toe over something petty and ridiculous that will result in the harm of others. Why don’t we just suggest changing the name of the country while we’re at it?

Oh look, a section on reproduction. Which, I’m honestly going to let you embrace on your own, because I have had enough.

The Ramifications of Choices

Does any of this sound good to you? Laced with a puppies-and-kittens version of a potentially “peaceful” future, because we’ve wiped out the infringement religion places on us while also creating a shun for any who have a religious preference; this document outlines the semblance of freedom while actually destroying the very meaning of the word. If my CHOICE is to accept the terms of this document or NOT, then I CHOOSE NOT. I will not comply with these ideas, because they are a violation of my freedom to choose.

And when more of me CHOOSE not to comply, many will be injured by our choice. They will likely push harder. They will do so without realizing the damaging effects of their choice. And what are the damages?

Consider this… once you’ve complied, and denounced your faith in a higher power, and bought into the drugs that are now legal, and educated yourself and your children in the manner which has been outlined for you; what are you, but a member of an Orwellian society—conformed and obedient? That’s exactly what we’re headed for when we even consider documents such as the proposed 28th amendment.

It is preventable, though. When we embrace the freedom that is choice, we can choose not to comply. We can choose to practice our freedom as openly as we can regardless of who gets hurt over it, because that is our RIGHT as Americans, and as HUMAN BEINGS.

Of course, embracing your choice will come with challenges. You’ll have to choose to defend your choice against the tyrants and the mobs, or not. Whatever you choose to do, choose it and embrace it with all the challenges it comes with, or live a prisoner. I choose not to comply with the ideas presented in this document. I choose my freedom. What will you choose?


Senator Ted Cruz Exposes Democratic Plan to Repeal First Amendment – http://www.newsmax.com/Newsfront/Cruz-amendment-campaign-financing/2014/06/02/id/574515/?promo_code=165C6-1

The 28th Amendment (Full) http://politicalresearchdatabase.tumblr.com/post/36611972771

Snopes- http://www.snopes.com/politics/medical/28thamendment.asp




ZENINTHECAR-T.V.-CREWRecently Eric Bell, host of For Whom the Bell Tolls, had the gang from ZEN IN THE CAR T.V. visit his show for a two hour candid discussion on everything from the Liberty Movement to spirituality. We thought it was worth sharing with all of you who might have missed it the first time around. So we hope that you are enlightened and we hope that you enjoy listening to the gang come to the airwaves with the message they are determined to spread.

**This video is a playlist of all five parts plays in order, however for your convenience all five parts are individually listed.***





Sabrina Black: Zen Spirituality


Sabrina Black


I have mentioned before that several of us here at ZENINTHECAR.COM have recently gone through major “life changes”; however that is not to say that such “life changes” have been limited to we alone. No; in fact many of you out there are also experiencing such things and for those of you who have a spiritual proclivity this is due in part to a process that is happening world-wide to a certain percentage of people. It is a spiritual awakening happening to those who are in tune with it that is causing all the seemingly tumultuous events in our lives.
In this episode of ZEN IN THE CAR T.V., Sabrina Black addresses this awakening and how we should respond to it in order to pass through the process with as few bumps and bruises as possible. Enjoy.


The Wake Up Call


Sabrina Black

While it appears to be the end to a relatively boring story, it turns out that it was just the beginning to something prophetic. See, outside of knowing I did not elect Obama for President (because his lies didn’t fool me for one second), attention to anything political or even remotely related to politics was nothing of interest. I imagine I am not unlike many others who simply took the beaten with the assumption that we would suffer through it. However, my husband was one of the fortunate ones to be more than aware of what was going on not only in our country, but in the world. He was chastised for it – by yours truly – as I saw much of what he was listening to as unchangeable and negatively laced.

On a morning not unlike many others before it, fed up with the job hunt and the negativity the situation was inspiring; I found myself nagging the husband again about his listening to the crappy news on talk radio. That’s when a challenge was issued. A challenge I believe many of us were presented with at some point in our lives, or why else would we be here?

You don’t have a clue what’s going on in this country, do you?

Well, that’s uncalled for. I never knew before, why should I give a damn now, right? Well, I don’t know what my exact response was, but I’m certain it was defensive. After all, who likes being called out for their lack of knowledge?

Essentially, the challenge being issued was simple: wake up. There was a call to see why I wouldn’t be getting the job I wanted any time soon; a demand to see and understand the liberties that were being stolen from us by our elected officials in government.

Being among the fortunate, this was all it took to disconnect my cord from the system and find a place amongst those who would bring me to further Truth and Enlightenment. Some were found by me, but the some that would become the most significant contributors to my awakening found me. It was then that so many wonderful and inexplicable happenings began to take place. Like so many others, I began to see things differently, and my only desire became to share my new-found knowledge with others.

Unfortunately, just as I was initially defensive towards my husband, so were others towards me and the information I was giving them. Friends, family… people I thought I knew, not only denied these Truths, but became ugly beasts I didn’t recognize anymore. I’m just trying to help you, I thought, why are you not even capable of acknowledging what I’m telling you without debating me?

By this time, so many had already been lost – friends and even family – to my need to share truth. The only way to salvage what was left, as far as I could tell, was to keep my information to myself and at the very least communicate with those who were already awakened.

Months later, I’m sitting here writing this to you after much reflection and understanding. I was wrong again. See, just as I was defensive to the ideas being put before me, so others will be as well. Cognitive dissonance, the desire for people to maintain living in their delusions; prevented people from giving up the illusion they were plugged into. To challenge them as we have been challenged is asking them to step into the turmoil so many of us has already experienced. The daunting task of waking up others is a daunting one that sees friends turn foe and family turn their backs or worse – throw you to the feds.

It’s unfortunate to say that we cannot save them all. There will be many that wish to remain plugged in, and will even fight tooth and nail to keep from being separated from the fictional world they live in. While it seems like going through all of this to inform others is harmful, it is actually just the opposite. Information is positivity; the opportunity to make a choice. It is the lack of information which is most dangerous and negatively charged. What we, as the awakened whole, need to understand is that many will cling to the lies. Do not be discouraged. It is not your role to unplug anyone. Your only charge is to keep the information coming out freely; to put it out there for others to question and reflect upon it, in their own time and in their own way, so that they may make an informed choice.

Ultimately, choice is left to the Individual. All you can do is put the truth before them and move on, as the more people who become awakened, the stronger we grow as a nation towards absolute liberty. Let hope be your guide. Let faith maintain your heart. Let love be your strength. Others will see that your truth is not inspiring hate or negativity. It’s time to unplug this country and the world. So if you’re not already… wake up.



D.L. Crumpton and Derrick Grayson


I can remember during the last couple of presidential election cycles feeling very much like an island at times in my support of Ron Paul. Now keep in mind, no one that supported Ron Paul really supported the man, rather what the man stood for; Freedom, Liberty and the Constitution. In a world where people focus on the technicalities of what a document says rather than the soul of what is written, it was rare to find others that had such concepts burning in their bones. It was rare to find someone who didn’t approach the Constitution like a legal document rather like a Holy document. While others were supporting politicians, we were supporting a statesman. We were supporting a man who was open, honest, and not offering to butter our bread more than he was offering us the opportunity to butter our own damn bread.


Derrick Grayson with Jason Patrick

During that time there were few media voices willing to shout from the rooftops and echo this message of Freedom and Liberty, so we as supporters had to become the media. Derrick Grayson (TMOT) was one of the loudest and clearest advocates for the concepts we all embrace here at ZENINTHECAR.COM. I can’t tell you how many days I raced home to catch his “Drive Time” rants on YouTube and sat on the edge of my seat with the feeling that finally I was not alone. Finally there was someone else that understood this type of thing without having to walk them around the pond. He doesn’t mince words, he doesn’t dodge questions, and he doesn’t water down the words of our Founding Fathers. When we released the project statement I AM THE COG, a comprehensive plan to take back our Republic, Derrick Grayson was one of the first to throw his support behind it, and since that time we knew he was as Stan Lee would say, a True Believer. So it tickled us to no avail to find out that he was running for the House of Representatives for our fine state. Team Zen scrambled to find out how we could contribute to his voice getting louder and his campaign becoming a success. And after all that scrambling we decided just to do what we do best. Cover him as we would any other politician and let his own words either uplift or condemn him.

We find it ironic that Derrick Grayson is known for “Drive Time” where most of his ideas probably come to him while stuck in a car, and we here attained Enlightenment in ours while stuck in traffic. It appears a hybrid baby of ZEN and DRIVE TIME was inevitable with all that hindsight being 20\20 and all. So we hope you enjoy a little Drive Time Zen.





Flirting with chaos; it’s something we all do from time to time. What is it exactly? Well flirting with chaos just so happens to be those moments in life when you stand a little too close to the fire pit and smell your eyebrows singe, or when you lean in just a little too close to the train as it whizzes past and it clips off some skin from the tip of your nose. It’s those times in your life where you throw your hands up in the air and decide you’re just not going to decide for a while, may the chips fall where they so may. You’ve been there, I’ve been there and everyone you and your uncle know has been there. It’s funny to hear backbiters slander others who are flirting with chaos at a certain moments in their life because they know full well they probably have a few illegitimate young’uns with that slut themselves. Whenever you flirt with chaos it’s typically when you fail to realize you’ve been at this point in your life before and the mistakes of your past keep slapping you in the face again; only this time with trendier clothes and I-Thingies.
It’s this phase we go into when we allow our ship to go off course, to lose sight of our star and sail into troubled waters. We just let go and act on whims doing the darndest things and saying the most asinine words in the most profound ways. We ruin relationships with people we love and form new bonds with people we weren’t in relationships with before. We burn bridges while building stronger and newer ones at the same time. And though while in the midst of this evolution in life it feels as if a whirlwind is tearing through the Smallville of your mind; I assure you all the pieces of the puzzle will form a picture when you figure out where that last piece goes. So don’t panic-everything truly is going to be okay.


photofrom snappyshit.blogspot.com

Let me elaborate with a parable if you don’t mind. Flirting with chaos is like flirting at a bar…don’t do it. I know, I know, you think I’m trying to ruin all your fun but you are gonna have to listen to me for a few moments and really let what I’m saying sink in. So let’s say you and some buddies just got back from a really exciting rally, or attended a kick ass activist event right? You’re pumped. You’re feeling good. You want to celebrate. Someone mentions heading out to a club or bar and you say to yourself “Why the heck not?” Now that in and of itself is innocent enough and so far so good. However when you guys get there a strange transition starts to take place from feeling good and pumped to feeling more like twilight zone. There are flashing lights, unbearably loud music and this one potbellied chick in the back pouring salt on her can of natty light that scares the crap out of your iris’s so bad you hear them scream. Oh and of course she has a lit and half broken pall mall hanging from her bottom lip; hanging on for dear life to the two or three coats of lipstick on chickadoo’s smackers. Other than her the place is pretty…what do the kids say?…thumpin? Pretty sure it’s thumpin’. Well if it’s not you know what I mean so let’s just go with thumpin’ at the risk of dating ourselves.
Alright so the place is thumpin’ and you have a jack and coke in your hand trying desperately to sip it as you bob your head to a techno remix of Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep”. Yeah, you’re that drunk. Adele’s “Rolling in the friggin’ Deep.” Anyway, you’re doing your vulture thing, slowly craning your neck from one side of the bar to the other. And then POW, you spot you some vittles! She’s doing that strange twerk thing to Garth Brooks’ “I Got Friends in Low Places” and you are of the opinion that she’s pretty much matching the beat. Seemed like a good thing at the time anyway. So you nudge your buddies and give ‘em a wink as if to say “watch this…hardy har har.”Then it’s your best wobbly swagger over to lil-miss can’t do wrong. You tap her on the shoulder like Prometheus tapping the clay of mankind alive. She turns and instantly there’s a sparkle in the eye and a curl of the mouth and things are off to a head start. You have to lean in close to her to say anything because the music is so loud which is a plus because you have no choice but to come inside her territorial bubble so you can at least make your sales pitch. I mean come on fair is fair, right? You wind up, you make the pitch and it’s typically some prose from a poem you scribbled earlier in the day or a line from Shakespeare or something sappy like that. You feel a connection, seems to be going well aaaaaaaaannnddd….BZZZRT! Recording has ceased.

This is the part where you finally stop the slapping hands of past mistakes from perpetually flattening your nose. And why? Because you wake up in a cold sweat because you know something happened the night before but the VHS is still stuck in the VCR slot and you don’t know what kind of movie you rented. Was it a comedy? Was it a horror? Maybe a dramedy even? The memories were trapped in there somewhere, you could feel those little suckers but your hangover is preventing the puzzle pieces to simply fall into place. What happened? Did I hit it off with miss sparkly eyes or did I crash and burn? Oh crap! What If I crashed and burned in front of all my wingmen? What are they gonna think of me? What kind of snickers am I gonna get the next time we hang out? What kind of rumors are gonna be whispered on back channels? Did I get a tattoo?! Please God tell me I didn’t get a tattoo! I never want to get one of those things (unless it’s the Star Trek delta shield right over my heart. That’d be pretty pimp tight. If I had that tattoo I would always be tapping it and rapping with the Enterprise.) and if I do I swear I’m just gonna shoot myself. Unless it’s the Star Trek delta shield then oh well, I’ll get over it. Wait a minute, what if I didn’t crash and burn? Maybe I actually pulled it off and got a phone number or something, better check my pockets. What the hell, why is there a gummy worm in there? Oh well, no bother. Wait! What if she came home with me?! What if,…oh no…what if I’m gonna have some psycho chick in my shower when I go in there? What if she’s one of those clingy, whiney types? What if…what if…what if! Man, I so cannot afford a litter of chaoti-kids running around right now.

The possibilities are endless when trying to determine how flirting with chaos will turn out for you. You just never know do you? The cold sweat of endless outcomes, both good and bad, pushes through your pores like bowling balls. It’s like you woke up from a nightmare but for the life of you, you can’t remember what it was about. This is what flirting with chaos will do to you; shatter your mind into a thousand glass pieces that will fall to the floor. At this point you are left with two choices. Do you proceed to walk all over them and let your feet bleed you out? Or do you carefully pick up the pieces and do something useful with them like glue them onto a pretty vase or something all artsy like that? You know you want that shiny vase so grab your dustpan kiddo.


D.L. Crumpton and Jason Patrick

Thank goodness one of your wingman gives you a wakeup call to make sure you didn’t end up sleeping in the bathtub with a half-eaten burrito and you ask for him to fill in the gaps on what happened the night before to ease your worried mind. As it turned out, just after they deduced that A. you were heading into a world of making one’s self look like a douchebag and B. thank God there are blue-lights in this bar: your wingman noticed the tan line discoloration on her ring finger where well whatta ya know…taints no ring on it. This is flirting with Miss Chaos. Just before you get caught up in a web of problems you don’t need, your wingman grabs you by the shoulder and pulls you back from imminent demise. “Bar’s closing bro, they’re about to shut us out, we gotta ride.” Thus you were saved from the possibility of having to shake off baby-mama-drama by the watchful eye of a faithful friend. Put that on a fortune cookie.



So if you are in that phase of your life where all the chaos around us has made you apathetic and seemingly without hope; shake it off. If you’re in that cycle of life where you aren’t doing as much as you know you are capable of, where you feel like making it through each day is like walking through a swamp and you just don’t want to do it anymore. If you stopped caring if your life had meaning anymore and have given into the notion that there is no happiness left, then you are most certainly flirting with chaos. And like I said in the beginning, don’t do it. You’re better off going out beneath the Great Deku tree and placing stones before it to start your ZEN garden 2.0 and laying on one to watch the stars enshrine us. Meditate a little. Listen to some tunes and get ya’ head togetha’. Who wants to pick Miss Chaos up at a bar when Lady Liberty could be just down the street at the drug store you will shortly be attending to get something for that headache? You never know, you two might hit it off pretty good. I know it’s tough times out there but we can’t let it water down our passion and thirst for life because hey, tough times are a part of life and getting wounded goes along with it. But life is still life. Life will go on. And next time you go to a bar, order a mineral water or you just might wake up with you and your ex-girlfriend’s dog kidnapped and sleeping beside you. Jose Cuervo can make you do some crazy stuff man. Namaste.

20140119_155051I would like to take a moment to thank and dedicate to the following handful of people this small piece of literature, for whatever it’s worth. They have either greatly inspired me or dusted me off when I have stumbled and fallen into the mire; or they have become some of my closest and dearest friends over the past year. You will never know how much your compassion; wisdom and listening ears have healed many a scar. To each and every one of you I hold my hand up like I did in the beginning and give to you an Irish blessing: “May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be always at your back, may the sun shine warm upon your face, and the rain fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again may God hold you in the palm of his hand.” You have certainly deserved it.

Jason Patrick, Curtis Sirmans, Sabrina Black, Scott Tyner, Chris Hill, Chris Brown, Jason and Danielle Crumpton, Verana Shinton, Khali Rodriguez, Valerie Sargent Martin, Ben Two Bits, Berenice Green, Jason Echols, Deb Hirner, Nate Warner, Monica Voskuil, Jarrett Warner, Erica Chambers, Paul Irvine, Betty Crumpton, that guy at Waffle House that one night and that guy that installed my dish network.

In each and every one of your shadows, the wings of angels can be seen. Hovering over and lifting up a much wounded wingman and helping him to return to the Light. I am eternally in debt to each and every one of you.