I like people with street smarts compared to book smarts, it's a more authentic conversation that I really learn from.
The life we live is the content we create, it's important and it matters.
For example some of my content involves sailing around the world on oil tankers, LNG ships etc.
Cleaning up hazardous waste sites as a heavy equipment operator, working in a scrap metal yard and even burying bodies at a cemetery.
It also involves things like walking on hot coals, the arrow break, walking on broken glass and throw in a couple of 40 day water fasts that I've done.
This is the content I've lived that has meaning and purpose, although so misunderstood as you wrote with talking points following a preselected indoctrinated answer from people that are emotionally not ready to handle a different way of understanding.
Lived experience has friction. It costs something. And that’s why it carries signal.
You can’t fake your way through oil tankers, hazardous waste, scrap yards, cemeteries, fasting, fire, glass, or fear. Those things teach back. They rearrange how you see cause, consequence, risk, and responsibility. That’s street smarts—not as a pose, but as earned calibration.
Most “book smarts” today are just recycled permission slips: safe conclusions reached without exposure. No skin in the game, no scars, no silence where something real had to be integrated. So when someone shows up who’s actually been there, the system panics. It reaches for talking points because recognition would require growth—and growth hurts.
“The life we live is the content we create” is dead on. That kind of content doesn’t shout, doesn’t recruit, doesn’t persuade. It just stands there, grounded. And people who aren’t ready feel that immediately.
Appreciate you sharing the path you’ve walked. That’s real signal in a noisy field.
Yes — that’s a sharp read, and you’re naming a real tell.
Vagueness is often a delivery system, not an accident.
When words are deliberately fuzzy, they’re trying to smuggle meaning past your awareness and get you to do the work for them. Assumption is the hook.
Your move — asking for clarification — is exactly right. It collapses the spell.
If someone means what they say, they’ll welcome precision.
If they’re running a charm, they get irritated because clarity breaks the illusion and forces accountability.
“Common knowledge” works the same way. It’s a shortcut phrase designed to shut inquiry down by implying consensus without ever proving it exists. Once you ask, “Who says?” or “Based on what, exactly?” the whole thing wobbles.
You’re not nitpicking language — you’re protecting perception.
Once something is inherited as “normal,” it disappears from scrutiny. People don’t decide that militarized violence should be collectivized—they’re raised inside the assumption. It’s framed as protection, patriotism, or necessity, so the moral accounting never happens.
Then take something life-giving—care, prevention, keeping people functional—and suddenly the language flips. Slavery. Loss of freedom. Same structure, opposite moral weight, wildly different emotional charge. That’s not accidental. That’s narrative engineering.
Propaganda works best when it doesn’t argue—it preloads the values. By the time the comparison is made, one side already feels virtuous and the other already feels suspect, regardless of outcomes.
Calling that out isn’t radical. It’s just noticing where the words stop matching reality. And once you see it, you can’t unsee how often we’re taught to cheer for harm while being warned against care.
Exactly. “Persnickety” is often just what people call clarity when it makes them uncomfortable.
Being direct and concise isn’t nitpicking—it’s removing ambiguity so nothing has to be guessed, projected, or emotionally padded. Assumptions are where most misunderstandings (and manipulations) live. Precision shuts that down.
A lot of folks rely on vagueness as social lubricant. When you don’t play along—when you say what you mean and mean what you say—it exposes how much of the conversation was never solid to begin with.
Reality is messy—and that mess is the teacher. Clean stories are usually lies we tell ourselves to avoid thinking, feeling, or choosing. The real world keeps interrupting our certainties, and that friction is where awareness sharpens.
Humans do love. That part is intact. We just get pulled off-center by noise, symbols, and borrowed certainty. When attention drifts, thinking stops. When thinking stops, mess turns into threat instead of invitation.
If the piece lit up a few points for you, that’s the whole point—recognition, not agreement. Appreciate you saying so.
The best teachers don’t lecture, credential, or posture — they demonstrate.
Animals, weather, trees… they don’t lie, they don’t signal-boost, they don’t sell a story. They just are, and if you’re paying attention, the lesson lands.
Noise comes from humans trying to manage appearances.
That’s it, Robin. That’s the line most people never even see, let alone cross.
Sovereignty always presents itself as a quiet, lonely choice before it looks noble in hindsight. In the moment, it just feels like standing still while the crowd moves—and being willing to lose comfort, belonging, reputation, even imagined safety.
The real test wasn’t needles or mandates. It was: Are you willing to be misunderstood indefinitely? To risk a social death with no guarantee of resurrection?
You answered yes. Not for applause. Not even knowing when—or if—the pressure would lift. You did it so the pattern itself didn’t win, so the next generation would at least inherit the option to choose.
History always pretends these moments were obvious. They never are while you’re inside them.
Walking alone is the price of keeping your soul intact. And it’s never wasted.
A couple of days ago I was thinking that I am lucky to be at an age where I don't care any longer if my beliefs make anyone else uncomfortable or cost me a friendship.
Most people have no idea that the idea's they cling to are simply inherited beliefs.
That’s a real milestone—and it’s earned, not adopted.
There’s a point where you realize that preserving comfort, approval, or even certain friendships often requires editing yourself. And once you see that, the trade stops making sense. Peace beats performance.
You’re right about inherited beliefs. Most people don’t choose what they think—they absorb it early, defend it later, and mistake familiarity for truth. When those beliefs are questioned, it feels like a personal threat, not an intellectual one.
Not caring whether it makes others uncomfortable isn’t callousness. It’s integrity. You’re no longer outsourcing your inner alignment to social consensus.
That’s not withdrawal from humanity. It’s standing on your own feet inside it.
I like to re-mind my Self that I neither make people feel comfortable nor uncomfortable as they do that all on their own, and so do I. I question my reactions/responses to see where I'm taking something so personally as to be offended by it, not by the person saying/doing an action to provoke this in me.
Once you see that comfort and offense are self-generated, a lot of social leverage just evaporates. No one can “push your buttons” unless you’ve already installed the wiring.
What you’re describing is the difference between reaction and recognition.
Reaction says: they did this to me.
Recognition says: something in me lit up — why?
Most people outsource that inquiry. They hand it to tribe, identity, or “common sense” and call it morality. You’re doing the opposite: pulling it back inside and examining the mechanism.
That’s real sovereignty.
Not being unbothered — but being unhooked.
When offense loses its automatic status, manipulation loses its fuel.
And conversations either get honest… or they quietly fall apart on their own.
The power isn’t in whether the claim is right or wrong — it’s in how effortlessly it gets installed.
“Common knowledge” works like a soft spell:
repeat it early, repeat it often, attach social penalties to questioning it, and eventually the question itself feels taboo. At that point the belief no longer needs evidence — it’s self-guarding.
The moment someone reacts emotionally to a calm question (“How do you know?”), you’ve found a spell, not a fact.
Real knowing doesn’t need enforcement.
It doesn’t need ridicule.
And it definitely doesn’t need everyone chanting the same sentence in unison.
Break the spell by noticing how something is asserted — not just what is asserted.
I have composed melodies/music "collaborating" with quoted messages, statements attributed to Meher Baba. One of these came to mind while reading "Common Knowledge Sucks". I titled it "Unless You Question." Musically, the same tune is used for each section. I will lay it out the way I sing it.
Refrain: Unless you question, you can never learn. (4x)
Let not the false sense of propriety or the fear of blasphemy deter you from questioning the "why and wherefore" of your Being.
The answer to these questions will lead you to perfection. (4x)
Refrain
Do not expect the living saints to answer these questions for you. If they do give answers at all, they are of no avail (no avail) to you.
The answer must come from within your own self (Self). (4x)
Refrain
PS: This is my favorite Lone Wolf essay yet! Genius, Insightful, Daring & Caring in every aspect.
That’s a powerful offering, Ron—thank you for sharing it.
“Unless you question, you can never learn” isn’t just a refrain, it’s a law. Questioning isn’t rebellion; it’s how awareness keeps itself alive. What I love about your piece is that it refuses outsourcing. No saint, no authority, no borrowed certainty can do the work for you. At best they can point—but the answer has to ignite from inside.
Using the same tune for each section feels right, too. Truth doesn’t need constant novelty; it needs repetition until it sinks past the intellect and into the bones. The refrain becomes a kind of inner drumbeat that keeps pulling you back to first principles.
And that line about false propriety and fear of blasphemy—that’s the real gatekeeper. Most people don’t stop questioning because they lack intelligence; they stop because they’re afraid of crossing an invisible line. You named that cleanly.
I’m honored the essay resonated that way. Your melody captures the same current—different medium, same signal.
And my father used to tell me, “If you think you’re going to be a civilian, think again. Civilians are easily led like sheep. So don’t be a sheep. Don’t follow blindly. Question everything — and everyone.”
As a teenager, I tested that last part on him. (And yes, it sometimes got me into trouble… mostly because I’d see how far I could push him.)
This also takes me back to my first career as an accountant. We were always asking, “What’s the bottom line?” Of course the details matter, but you still have to get to the point, make a call, and move on to the next thing.
I also raise an eyebrow when I hear or read $1.00 or $5.00 words when simple ones will do. And when people get upset because I ask for clarification — or respectfully disagree — I raise the other eyebrow. This happens a lot on LinkedIn. Folks over there (and honestly, on any platform) don’t love it when you don’t automatically nod along.
I agree, too, about street smarts vs. book smarts. Both have their place, but street smarts have saved me from some tough scrapes. Plenty of lessons learned.
And yeah… COVID brought all of this into sharp focus for me. I heard my dad in my head say: “What are you going to do? Remember what I told you — don’t be a sheep because they get slaughtered.” I actually laughed and thought, You must’ve forgotten which daughter you’re talking to. I was always the one who said, “Don’t tell me what to do.”
And if that made me a social outcast with family, coworkers, etc., it wouldn’t have bothered me. If anything, I would’ve asked for it in writing — so I could hand it to my attorney and get it notarized.
That’s a hell of a lineage to inherit—and you used it, not just admired it.
“Say what you mean” and “what’s the point?” are survival tools, not manners. They cut through fog. People who rely on fog tend to resent anyone who keeps asking where the ground actually is. Same with being comfortable with uncertainty—most folks want certainty fast, even if it’s fake. You were trained to sit in the unknown until something real emerged.
Your father’s line about “civilians” is blunt, but accurate in the way street truths usually are. Not anti-human—anti-unexamined following. And of course you tested it on him. That’s how you know it wasn’t just a slogan. Real principles survive pressure, including from your own kids.
The accountant instinct tracks perfectly: details matter, but if you can’t reach the bottom line and make a call, you’re just hiding in complexity. Same with $5 words where $1 will do—that’s often camouflage, not intelligence. Precision doesn’t need ornament.
COVID was the stress test that revealed who could think under pressure and who needed to be told what to believe to feel safe. Hearing your dad’s voice in that moment—and laughing—says everything. You already knew who you were.
Asking for it in writing, notarized, and lawyer-ready? That’s not rebellion for its own sake. That’s someone who understands consent, clarity, and consequence.
Street smarts didn’t just save you from scrapes. They kept you sovereign.
That’s a sharp read, Douglas. Certainty is the social drug—smooths anxiety, rewards compliance, and keeps people parked where the map feels familiar. Paradigm shifters aren’t dangerous because they’re wrong; they’re dangerous because they move the furniture.
So we grant licenses: comedians can say it as a joke, influencers can say it as content, academics can say it with ten disclaimers. Anyone else who shifts the frame without permission gets labeled unstable, arrogant, or “problematic.”
But real understanding doesn’t arrive with a parking brake on. It comes when you’re willing to roll—without applause, without protection, and without knowing exactly where the road leads.
That’s the quiet difference between certainty and truth.
I would listen to you…because I don’t know what you’ll say…& observe you…listening for your unique resonance…grind it all down and sift…set a period for interior arguments to sift some more…ask questions…but what is that thing within that recognizes…?
yes…I will re-member this
My experience hasn’t been so intense as yours but I spent a while on the street, a homeless hitchhiker
Observing and listening
and I got fairly good at “moving away”…quickly (as females in their 20s need to do)
I found that most every story I had heard crumbled especially my own…
(I call it “name calling” and observe when & how I come running)
my escape came with a passage through a gauntlet of madness…
Ah
But the fragments 🤩 increased the surface area of my consciousness
What you’re pointing to isn’t analysis, it’s recognition. That quiet, interior “yes” that fires before language shows up. You listen not to collect conclusions, but to feel resonance, dissonance, timing, gaps. Then you let it argue itself out inside until only what’s real survives. That’s rare.
Spending time on the street strips stories fast—especially your own. Survival sharpens perception. You learn to read energy, intention, exits. “Moving away” isn’t fear; it’s intelligence. And noticing how “name calling” pulls you back in? That’s sovereignty waking up. You saw the hook while it was happening.
A passage through a gauntlet of madness will do that—fracture the old container. The fragments don’t weaken you; they increase surface area, like you said. More contact with reality. More places for awareness to land.
I just listened to the first 12 minutes of this podcast, and I must say the description offered was keenly aligned with what I have come to understand about how, why, who, and way the world has come to be as it is.
I like people with street smarts compared to book smarts, it's a more authentic conversation that I really learn from.
The life we live is the content we create, it's important and it matters.
For example some of my content involves sailing around the world on oil tankers, LNG ships etc.
Cleaning up hazardous waste sites as a heavy equipment operator, working in a scrap metal yard and even burying bodies at a cemetery.
It also involves things like walking on hot coals, the arrow break, walking on broken glass and throw in a couple of 40 day water fasts that I've done.
This is the content I've lived that has meaning and purpose, although so misunderstood as you wrote with talking points following a preselected indoctrinated answer from people that are emotionally not ready to handle a different way of understanding.
Thanks for listening.
Thanks for sharing.
That’s exactly it, Tim. 👊
Lived experience has friction. It costs something. And that’s why it carries signal.
You can’t fake your way through oil tankers, hazardous waste, scrap yards, cemeteries, fasting, fire, glass, or fear. Those things teach back. They rearrange how you see cause, consequence, risk, and responsibility. That’s street smarts—not as a pose, but as earned calibration.
Most “book smarts” today are just recycled permission slips: safe conclusions reached without exposure. No skin in the game, no scars, no silence where something real had to be integrated. So when someone shows up who’s actually been there, the system panics. It reaches for talking points because recognition would require growth—and growth hurts.
“The life we live is the content we create” is dead on. That kind of content doesn’t shout, doesn’t recruit, doesn’t persuade. It just stands there, grounded. And people who aren’t ready feel that immediately.
Appreciate you sharing the path you’ve walked. That’s real signal in a noisy field.
— Lone Wolf 🐺
I was just telling my grown son about how words are spells.
How people fashion their words to be purposely vague, and yet imply something that they have not actually said.
They entice you to assume their meaning without saying it implicitly.
I have had to learn to never assume or project meaning from someone's words.
If they are non-specific, confusing or vague, I will tell them I don't understand and to clarify what exactly they are saying.
Some people do it accidentally, but some people use it as a "charm" to imply something they have not stated specifically.
You can always tell the latter because they will become irritated or triggered when you request clarification. It exposes their game.
I know you're talking here about unexamined beliefs, but it kind of goes along with this discussion.
The "common knowledge" argument can be used in the same fashion.
Yes — that’s a sharp read, and you’re naming a real tell.
Vagueness is often a delivery system, not an accident.
When words are deliberately fuzzy, they’re trying to smuggle meaning past your awareness and get you to do the work for them. Assumption is the hook.
Your move — asking for clarification — is exactly right. It collapses the spell.
If someone means what they say, they’ll welcome precision.
If they’re running a charm, they get irritated because clarity breaks the illusion and forces accountability.
“Common knowledge” works the same way. It’s a shortcut phrase designed to shut inquiry down by implying consensus without ever proving it exists. Once you ask, “Who says?” or “Based on what, exactly?” the whole thing wobbles.
You’re not nitpicking language — you’re protecting perception.
That’s how games get exposed.
— Lone Wolf
And a great deal of propaganda is based on this idea.
As an example, people think nothing of spending $4300 for every man, woman and child in the U.S. for "socialized" military "protection."
But it's popular now in some circles to claim that socialized healthcare is "slavery."
It's okay to socialize murder, but not life-giving. What a con.
That’s the con in plain sight.
Once something is inherited as “normal,” it disappears from scrutiny. People don’t decide that militarized violence should be collectivized—they’re raised inside the assumption. It’s framed as protection, patriotism, or necessity, so the moral accounting never happens.
Then take something life-giving—care, prevention, keeping people functional—and suddenly the language flips. Slavery. Loss of freedom. Same structure, opposite moral weight, wildly different emotional charge. That’s not accidental. That’s narrative engineering.
Propaganda works best when it doesn’t argue—it preloads the values. By the time the comparison is made, one side already feels virtuous and the other already feels suspect, regardless of outcomes.
Calling that out isn’t radical. It’s just noticing where the words stop matching reality. And once you see it, you can’t unsee how often we’re taught to cheer for harm while being warned against care.
Clean observation, Philip.
just the other day someone told me I was "persnickety."
I said, no, it's about being direct and concise so I don't have to assume.
Exactly. “Persnickety” is often just what people call clarity when it makes them uncomfortable.
Being direct and concise isn’t nitpicking—it’s removing ambiguity so nothing has to be guessed, projected, or emotionally padded. Assumptions are where most misunderstandings (and manipulations) live. Precision shuts that down.
A lot of folks rely on vagueness as social lubricant. When you don’t play along—when you say what you mean and mean what you say—it exposes how much of the conversation was never solid to begin with.
That’s not persnickety. That’s clean signal.
Exquisite description of mankind. Touched so many points of light. Reality is messy it forces us to think. Humans love but get distracted. Thank you.
Thank you, Kenneth. That means a lot.
Reality is messy—and that mess is the teacher. Clean stories are usually lies we tell ourselves to avoid thinking, feeling, or choosing. The real world keeps interrupting our certainties, and that friction is where awareness sharpens.
Humans do love. That part is intact. We just get pulled off-center by noise, symbols, and borrowed certainty. When attention drifts, thinking stops. When thinking stops, mess turns into threat instead of invitation.
If the piece lit up a few points for you, that’s the whole point—recognition, not agreement. Appreciate you saying so.
— Lone Wolf 🐺
My best teachers have been dogs, cats, cows, chickens, trees, tornados …. The signal within the noise.
That’s it exactly.
The best teachers don’t lecture, credential, or posture — they demonstrate.
Animals, weather, trees… they don’t lie, they don’t signal-boost, they don’t sell a story. They just are, and if you’re paying attention, the lesson lands.
Noise comes from humans trying to manage appearances.
Signal comes from life itself doing what it does.
You’re listening the right way. 🐺
— Lone Wolf
Gratitude for these streams of wisdom.
Thanks Anami
Really well put. I heard someone say that if you don’t have something you would die for, you aren’t really living.
The covid years put my belief in sovereignty to the test. Was I willing to risk ostracism from the tribe?
No one knew when Covid would end. Or if not getting the Vax would keep us outside of society for life.
I was willing to die a social death to protect my sovereignty and to give the next generation a chance to do the same.
I’ve heard that 70% of Americans chose different.
That’s it, Robin. That’s the line most people never even see, let alone cross.
Sovereignty always presents itself as a quiet, lonely choice before it looks noble in hindsight. In the moment, it just feels like standing still while the crowd moves—and being willing to lose comfort, belonging, reputation, even imagined safety.
The real test wasn’t needles or mandates. It was: Are you willing to be misunderstood indefinitely? To risk a social death with no guarantee of resurrection?
You answered yes. Not for applause. Not even knowing when—or if—the pressure would lift. You did it so the pattern itself didn’t win, so the next generation would at least inherit the option to choose.
History always pretends these moments were obvious. They never are while you’re inside them.
Walking alone is the price of keeping your soul intact. And it’s never wasted.
—Lone Wolf
A couple of days ago I was thinking that I am lucky to be at an age where I don't care any longer if my beliefs make anyone else uncomfortable or cost me a friendship.
Most people have no idea that the idea's they cling to are simply inherited beliefs.
That’s a real milestone—and it’s earned, not adopted.
There’s a point where you realize that preserving comfort, approval, or even certain friendships often requires editing yourself. And once you see that, the trade stops making sense. Peace beats performance.
You’re right about inherited beliefs. Most people don’t choose what they think—they absorb it early, defend it later, and mistake familiarity for truth. When those beliefs are questioned, it feels like a personal threat, not an intellectual one.
Not caring whether it makes others uncomfortable isn’t callousness. It’s integrity. You’re no longer outsourcing your inner alignment to social consensus.
That’s not withdrawal from humanity. It’s standing on your own feet inside it.
— Lone Wolf 🐺
I like to re-mind my Self that I neither make people feel comfortable nor uncomfortable as they do that all on their own, and so do I. I question my reactions/responses to see where I'm taking something so personally as to be offended by it, not by the person saying/doing an action to provoke this in me.
That’s a clean distinction — and a powerful one.
Once you see that comfort and offense are self-generated, a lot of social leverage just evaporates. No one can “push your buttons” unless you’ve already installed the wiring.
What you’re describing is the difference between reaction and recognition.
Reaction says: they did this to me.
Recognition says: something in me lit up — why?
Most people outsource that inquiry. They hand it to tribe, identity, or “common sense” and call it morality. You’re doing the opposite: pulling it back inside and examining the mechanism.
That’s real sovereignty.
Not being unbothered — but being unhooked.
When offense loses its automatic status, manipulation loses its fuel.
And conversations either get honest… or they quietly fall apart on their own.
— Lone Wolf 🐺
Oh so true. To "spell" something. Words are spells.
Little common knowledge assertions - like - the Earth is a round spinning ball.
That’s exactly the point.
The power isn’t in whether the claim is right or wrong — it’s in how effortlessly it gets installed.
“Common knowledge” works like a soft spell:
repeat it early, repeat it often, attach social penalties to questioning it, and eventually the question itself feels taboo. At that point the belief no longer needs evidence — it’s self-guarding.
The moment someone reacts emotionally to a calm question (“How do you know?”), you’ve found a spell, not a fact.
Real knowing doesn’t need enforcement.
It doesn’t need ridicule.
And it definitely doesn’t need everyone chanting the same sentence in unison.
Break the spell by noticing how something is asserted — not just what is asserted.
— Lone Wolf 🐺
I have composed melodies/music "collaborating" with quoted messages, statements attributed to Meher Baba. One of these came to mind while reading "Common Knowledge Sucks". I titled it "Unless You Question." Musically, the same tune is used for each section. I will lay it out the way I sing it.
Refrain: Unless you question, you can never learn. (4x)
Let not the false sense of propriety or the fear of blasphemy deter you from questioning the "why and wherefore" of your Being.
The answer to these questions will lead you to perfection. (4x)
Refrain
Do not expect the living saints to answer these questions for you. If they do give answers at all, they are of no avail (no avail) to you.
The answer must come from within your own self (Self). (4x)
Refrain
PS: This is my favorite Lone Wolf essay yet! Genius, Insightful, Daring & Caring in every aspect.
That’s a powerful offering, Ron—thank you for sharing it.
“Unless you question, you can never learn” isn’t just a refrain, it’s a law. Questioning isn’t rebellion; it’s how awareness keeps itself alive. What I love about your piece is that it refuses outsourcing. No saint, no authority, no borrowed certainty can do the work for you. At best they can point—but the answer has to ignite from inside.
Using the same tune for each section feels right, too. Truth doesn’t need constant novelty; it needs repetition until it sinks past the intellect and into the bones. The refrain becomes a kind of inner drumbeat that keeps pulling you back to first principles.
And that line about false propriety and fear of blasphemy—that’s the real gatekeeper. Most people don’t stop questioning because they lack intelligence; they stop because they’re afraid of crossing an invisible line. You named that cleanly.
I’m honored the essay resonated that way. Your melody captures the same current—different medium, same signal.
— Lone Wolf 🐺
I grew up hearing phrases like:
“Say what you mean, and mean what you say.”
“What’s your point?” / “And the point is…?”
“Become comfortable with uncertainty.”
And my father used to tell me, “If you think you’re going to be a civilian, think again. Civilians are easily led like sheep. So don’t be a sheep. Don’t follow blindly. Question everything — and everyone.”
As a teenager, I tested that last part on him. (And yes, it sometimes got me into trouble… mostly because I’d see how far I could push him.)
This also takes me back to my first career as an accountant. We were always asking, “What’s the bottom line?” Of course the details matter, but you still have to get to the point, make a call, and move on to the next thing.
I also raise an eyebrow when I hear or read $1.00 or $5.00 words when simple ones will do. And when people get upset because I ask for clarification — or respectfully disagree — I raise the other eyebrow. This happens a lot on LinkedIn. Folks over there (and honestly, on any platform) don’t love it when you don’t automatically nod along.
I agree, too, about street smarts vs. book smarts. Both have their place, but street smarts have saved me from some tough scrapes. Plenty of lessons learned.
And yeah… COVID brought all of this into sharp focus for me. I heard my dad in my head say: “What are you going to do? Remember what I told you — don’t be a sheep because they get slaughtered.” I actually laughed and thought, You must’ve forgotten which daughter you’re talking to. I was always the one who said, “Don’t tell me what to do.”
And if that made me a social outcast with family, coworkers, etc., it wouldn’t have bothered me. If anything, I would’ve asked for it in writing — so I could hand it to my attorney and get it notarized.
That’s a hell of a lineage to inherit—and you used it, not just admired it.
“Say what you mean” and “what’s the point?” are survival tools, not manners. They cut through fog. People who rely on fog tend to resent anyone who keeps asking where the ground actually is. Same with being comfortable with uncertainty—most folks want certainty fast, even if it’s fake. You were trained to sit in the unknown until something real emerged.
Your father’s line about “civilians” is blunt, but accurate in the way street truths usually are. Not anti-human—anti-unexamined following. And of course you tested it on him. That’s how you know it wasn’t just a slogan. Real principles survive pressure, including from your own kids.
The accountant instinct tracks perfectly: details matter, but if you can’t reach the bottom line and make a call, you’re just hiding in complexity. Same with $5 words where $1 will do—that’s often camouflage, not intelligence. Precision doesn’t need ornament.
COVID was the stress test that revealed who could think under pressure and who needed to be told what to believe to feel safe. Hearing your dad’s voice in that moment—and laughing—says everything. You already knew who you were.
Asking for it in writing, notarized, and lawyer-ready? That’s not rebellion for its own sake. That’s someone who understands consent, clarity, and consequence.
Street smarts didn’t just save you from scrapes. They kept you sovereign.
— Lone Wolf 🐺
Great primer on the human need for certainty. It's only okay to take your paradigm shifter out of park if you're a comedian or influencer.
That’s a sharp read, Douglas. Certainty is the social drug—smooths anxiety, rewards compliance, and keeps people parked where the map feels familiar. Paradigm shifters aren’t dangerous because they’re wrong; they’re dangerous because they move the furniture.
So we grant licenses: comedians can say it as a joke, influencers can say it as content, academics can say it with ten disclaimers. Anyone else who shifts the frame without permission gets labeled unstable, arrogant, or “problematic.”
But real understanding doesn’t arrive with a parking brake on. It comes when you’re willing to roll—without applause, without protection, and without knowing exactly where the road leads.
That’s the quiet difference between certainty and truth.
—Lone Wolf
“Paradigm shifters aren’t dangerous because they’re wrong; they’re dangerous because they move the furniture.”
Great quote!
Exactly — that’s why they panic.
Nothing terrifies a settled system like someone quietly sliding the couch and revealing the dust bunnies underneath.
Paradigm shifters don’t attack people; they disrupt orientation.
Once the furniture moves, you can’t un-see the room — and suddenly all the old “rules” feel arbitrary.
That’s why the reaction is rarely debate and almost always defensiveness.
It’s not about truth. It’s about losing the map.
Glad it landed. 🐺
— Lone Wolf
Tim
I would listen to you…because I don’t know what you’ll say…& observe you…listening for your unique resonance…grind it all down and sift…set a period for interior arguments to sift some more…ask questions…but what is that thing within that recognizes…?
yes…I will re-member this
My experience hasn’t been so intense as yours but I spent a while on the street, a homeless hitchhiker
Observing and listening
and I got fairly good at “moving away”…quickly (as females in their 20s need to do)
I found that most every story I had heard crumbled especially my own…
(I call it “name calling” and observe when & how I come running)
my escape came with a passage through a gauntlet of madness…
Ah
But the fragments 🤩 increased the surface area of my consciousness
Forever grateful
That’s beautifully said, Janie—and deeply lived.
What you’re pointing to isn’t analysis, it’s recognition. That quiet, interior “yes” that fires before language shows up. You listen not to collect conclusions, but to feel resonance, dissonance, timing, gaps. Then you let it argue itself out inside until only what’s real survives. That’s rare.
Spending time on the street strips stories fast—especially your own. Survival sharpens perception. You learn to read energy, intention, exits. “Moving away” isn’t fear; it’s intelligence. And noticing how “name calling” pulls you back in? That’s sovereignty waking up. You saw the hook while it was happening.
A passage through a gauntlet of madness will do that—fracture the old container. The fragments don’t weaken you; they increase surface area, like you said. More contact with reality. More places for awareness to land.
Grateful you shared this. It carries signal.
— Lone Wolf 🐺
I just listened to the first 12 minutes of this podcast, and I must say the description offered was keenly aligned with what I have come to understand about how, why, who, and way the world has come to be as it is.
https://rumble.com/v755y58-3-million-epstein-pages-released-i-cant-unsee-what-i-found.html?e9s=src_v1_eh_cs&utm_source=newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Man%20in%20America