Long Live Sacred [America]

Something is rotten in the red, white, and blue. I think everyone can see it and sense it, but I think few respond. It’s like that in war. There are lots of cowards.

Don’t be a coward.

They have poisoned our water, food, and stripped us of vital and whole nutrients and medicines.

This isn’t some accident.

Some ignorance.

No, sir. No, ma’am. This is war. Make no mistake, they will come for your family, your job, your property, your livelihood.

No, I am not talking about the “drug dealers.” I am talking about your government. You know, then one your founding fathers warned you about.

Yes, we have it. I’m headed for the hills to live off the land and amass the safety materials / resources I need to prepare and be equipped for this war.

I don’t want a war. I want peace. I didn’t call it a war.

As it turns out, cannabis is not the only illegal drug beneficial for PTSD, Depression, Chronic Pain or other mental illnesses.

Psychedelics are my third category of exploration. The psychedelic experience is one that brings clarity and focus to a disorganized and chaotic soul. For me, it provides a chance to reflect on a level not attainable with mere effort or even cannabis. The summation of my several traumatic experiences, which started at an early age, and the dissemination of information courtesy of the free and open internet (courtesy of our nerds…they win), I have been and will further be exploring the possible pros and cons of hallucinogenic therapy.

I think about what it would be like if I was a soldier during Roman times, or even been one of the Revolutionaries. I am a descendant, so it’s something I think about. For example, Roman soldiers would have gained a sizable estate once released from duty. They had the ability to grow their own food, all sorts of natural medicines, and the ability to brew beer, make wine, host guests, and some even got involved in the Senate.

If only we brought these sorts of practices back.

Now, I can understand how some of you read this and imagine that I have something to benefit from all this.

I do.

It’s my sanity. My liberty. My freedom. My existence. It’s to know that they pains that I have suffered and will continue to suffer, be it chronic illness, betrayal, or other such harms, will not and have not been in vain. I am not asking you to have pity.

Just respect.

It’s a respect that I want to see granted to everyone, not just the ones that served. I’m just saying, “Let’s start there.”

We can turn this ship. It’s not too late to express your compassionate for the suffering in a tangible way. Support the troops. Support the sick. Support humanity.

End the drug war.

Long Live Sacred [America]!

 

 

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War. What Is It Good For?

The time for graduating had come and gone. I was shipped out a short 3 weeks later.

The moment of swear-in was of great significance and impact. I don’t remember much, but I do remember these lines:

“I, Kevin Charles Wagenseller, do solemnly swear to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United States of America from all threats, foreign and domestic.”

This is an oath I was serious about, and I haven’t stopped simply because I have been discharged. The Constitution and upholding and defending it from all threats…foreign AND domestic…this is something that remains close to my heart, and consumes my soul.

You see, the War on Terror was of great concern to me. If there was anything I could do to stop the terrorists from destroying more lives, then I was going to do it. I was a 15-year-old sophomore in high school when 9/11 happened, and it wasn’t until I was 22 and out of the Navy that I found out that the real terrorists were sitting in the “Executive Mansion,” as it was once called.

So, I find out the first war I train and fight in is a sham and use of power demonstrated by the ruling elite to gain banking, gold, and oil interests in the Middle East. It was never about people’s safety.

Now, I find myself entangled in a second war. The War on Drugs. The truth, I have been in this war for many years, but I did not see it as a war until the last two or three years, the seriousness of it escalating with each passing year.

There is a huge burden on my shoulders.

It’s like I can feel the pain of all the dying soldiers suffering from PTSD, chronic pain, or other serious disorders.

I feel for all the cops that are “just doing their jobs,” some in ignorance, and some in the “know.” Either way, they are in a tough spot, and they shouldn’t have to be.

Pain consumes me watching my minority friends get hauled off to jail over and over again for petty, victim-less crimes. Sure, I am thankful that I am ________ enough not to have much difficulty with law enforcement, but I couldn’t imagine feeling so oppressed that I would be driven to join a gang just for protection from racist and abusive law enforcement. This is a problem, and it needs to be addressed.

On top of it all, I am losing my wife, dogs, and home to this war, and I feel powerless to stop it. After 30 years, a car accident, two wars, and a troubled marriage later, I find myself having to accept that sometimes we are dealt bad hands, and we just have to play them.

I take hope that eventually this turn will pass, the deck will be shuffled, and I get another chance.

Life can be like that, if we let it.

Wagen, over and out.

“Obsessed” with Weed #OpenYourEyes #TheyLive #YouDontFuckingKnowMe

I have received several critiques over the last year or two. One that particularly troubles me is that I am “obsessed” with weed, or that I am allowing it to destroy my life.

Now, I can understand how one could draw that conclusion just by taking a casual glance at my life. However, I am the only one that has attended all my doctor’s appointments, considered the different medical and therapeutic treatments, lived with the torture, and made an informed decision.

Guess what?

I have been doing this since I was little. I ask everybody lots of questions, especially doctors…especially when I have like 10 disorders.

Guess what?

I also read alot of books, on many topics — medical, historical, war strategies, languages, electronics, finances, religion, philosophy, and the list goes on. I am not saying I know everything, but I did my homework, and continue to do so, so don’t think you know more or better than me about my life. It’s not complicated. I wouldn’t pretend to know more about your life.

I just expect the same courtesy in return.

Living with all of these disorders is tough. Even as I write this, I wonder if it is “out-of-line” or “wildly appropriate.” Either way, I wrote it, and you can fucking deal with it.

Wagen, over and out.