I’ve tried countless times to walk away from this work. But alas I cannot because I feel uniquely qualified to do it. At times, quite honestly, it feels as if I was born to do this work,—as if it were a duty to which I am no less honor-bound than a soldier defending his country. Only the Internet extends my reach way past our borders.
Someone must prepare the ground for those who will not hear the ancients screaming at us until the last minute. What if the progeny of Jove do not succeed and only surface dwellers survive? “Flee into the mountains” is the banner I unfurl on this end-time battlefield.
There is a Great Work to be done, or rather continued. For surely, I follow in the footsteps of the Nazarene and Bard. Here I am reminded of the lyrics of a Tracy Chapman song.
If not now, then when? If not me, then who? Who else can do this work? That is the question that will not release me from this responsibility.
This work is all that is left me in this world. The lifelong mental preparation for it has cost me everything most people care about: my family, a college degree, love and marriage, and lately my profession—the one thing I was good at in this world, computer programming. It cost me my religion also, or rather my co-religionists for nothing in this life could persuade me that there is a higher truth than the pure metaphysics of what Mary Baker Eddy chose to call “Christian Science.” But the Christian Scientists of today, I assure you they hate me with an unusual passion, even though I sacrificed 13 years in the so-called “prime of my life” to care for one of their elderly teachers. Any sense of normality has been denied to me from birth. I would not have it any other way though. This work is the only thing in life that has ever presented a challenge to my thinker. Every day something new awaits me. You cannot be me and do this work if you care about the world, if you allow yourself to think this is all there is to life. My only fear of what awaits me on the other side of the veil is that Gus will not be there waiting. He is a cat so dear to me that I talk to him every once in a while to keep his memory alive on the theory that so long as I do so he will wait for me on the other side. Plato, the cat pictured above, who we rescued from underneath a 40-foot container in our backyard in Ecuador days before this picture was taken, knew Gus as a kitten. They were good friends. I love Plato, but Gus has my heart in this world. I tell you these things because the donations have stopped. It hurts. I have a financial responsibility to my domestic partner and our three cats (Plato, Socrates, and Athena). I don’t understand why no one is helping.
As for my work, it must speak for itself. Knowing what is real and what is not when you do little else in life but study the progeny of Jove can be challenging at times. If you esteem me a madman, find pity in your heart. If I offend you, please forgive me. I never meant to harm anyone. But speaking the truth was never an option for me. It is who I am. I long ago realized that telling the truth in this world is dangerous, but I will not change because telling lies tears at the fabric of a spiritual universe. That is what “Ama llulla” means in Inca—Do not lie.
If on the other hand, my work has some merit in your eyes, I ask for your support. I did not want any help in the past. For years, I worked alone and without the benefit of knowing what others thought of my work. Then one day when presented with an untenable situation at work, I decided to resign and work full-time on the website. Shortly thereafter, I decided to accept donations for the first time ever. Much to my surprise, the response was immediate and initially at least, a little surprising. My 15 minutes of fame came at a high price though. Now I know what it feels like to be appreciated. A single donation can inspire me for days. But right now I feel as alone in this work as little Plato must have before I finally found him underneath that forty-foot container in Ecuador. He had been crying for help on and off for three days, but I could not find him. I struggle with that sense of being alone again every day now. It makes no sense to me, but neither has this world since the day I was born. I have faith that in time the support will return. Until then, I will not hide from the current reality. The numbers you see below are accurate to the penny.
Statistics since August 18, 2020, when I started accepting donations:
Donations to Date: 25
The 216 Club members: 3
Date of the last Donation: January 16, 2021
Amount of last donation: $25
Days since the last donation: 0
Longest stretch of days without a donation (the evil record): 57
The original 24 donations were from 13 people who I will forever cherish. Donations abruptly stopped for 57 days when I lost the HTML formatting for all 108 pages owing to a change to the new “block” editor in WordPress. Getting the formatting back is a monumental task, one I could not bear were it not for these 13 donors. I now refer to them as “the 13” (13 is the doorway to knowledge in the world of numbers). Knowing that they cared enough to donate before this unfortunate setback keeps me going. It will take months to fully recover, but because of them, I maintained the hope that the donors
will would return. And they did on January 16, 2021, but I am not even halfway finished reformatting.
There are three options for making donations. Credit cards are processed through Stripe (use form below), PayPal, or Patreon.