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Episode #422: Why My Blog Is Still My Home on the Internet

In this episode, I take the Soulcruzer podcast out of the studio and into the fields. What starts as an experiment in mobile podcasting/vlogging turns into a wandering meditation on labels, blogging, AI, morning rituals, and the strange abundance of media tools we now carry in our pockets. Show notes:  Why I still think of myself as a blogger first– Podcasting, vodcasting, and the pressure to become “multimodal”– The problem with labels: “When you label me, you negate me”– soulcruzer.com as the central hub/home on the internet– Wisdom Walks as thinking time– Walking, motion, and changing perspective– The “barefoot philosopher”

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Choose Your Reality Tunnel Before Breakfast

I am beginning to think the morning is far stranger than we give it credit for. We talk about mornings as if they are mainly practical things. Alarm clocks. Showers. Coffee. Breakfast. Getting dressed. Checking the weather. Remembering where you have to be and what you have to do. But there is another morning underneath that morning. Before the day becomes a list, before the phone starts singing its little songs of demand, before the world gets its hooks into you, there is a softer moment. A brief threshold. A little gap between sleep and identity where consciousness starts assembling

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The Mirror That Answers Back

The old questions have not changed much. How should I live? Who am I becoming? What is worth paying attention to? What is freedom? What is wisdom? What is the soul, if we dare still use that word? These questions predate Socrates. They predate writing. They are carved into the bones of the species, and they have kept philosophers, mystics, poets, and ordinary troubled humans occupied for as long as there have been fires to sit around and dark skies to stare into. Every generation meets them as if for the first time. Every life receives them fresh, intimate, inconvenient,

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A Lamp at the Doorway

I finished Richard Cavendish’s The Black Arts this week. Not in the heroic readerly sense of having sat down and consumed it cleanly from first page to last, pencil in hand, scholar’s lamp burning into the night. I have been reading it on and off for a few months. Picking it up, putting it down, returning to it when the mood came back round. Some books ask for that kind of reading. They don’t want to be finished quickly. They want to become part of the weather for a while. My copy is the 50th anniversary edition. I bought it

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Unhinged Bio

I stole this idea from Justin Brooke on his LinkedIn profile. It’s a FUN PROMPT, and what came back from ChatGPT was pretty cool. I also asked Claude; the results were good, but they lacked an edge. Anyway, the prompt is: Write an unhinged BIO about me. Here’s mine: Clay Lowe is a walking footnote in the great unwritten manuscript of the universe. Part blogger, part philosopher, part myth-drenched field reporter from the edge of ordinary life, he spends his days following the rhizome wherever it wants to go: down muddy footpaths, through obscure books, into the textual underground, across

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NOTES

I’m back inside Tarot of Self-Discovery: A Jungian Guide to Tarot for Therapy, Inner Healing, and Personal Growth, and I can feel why the psychological approach to tarot keeps calling me. It gives me a language I trust. Tarot, in this frame, is not about predicting the future or handing my authority over to a deck of cards. It is a way of working with symbol, image, projection, shadow, inner dialogue, and the strange intelligence of the unconscious. The cards give form to things that often move below the level of ordinary speech. That part feels right to me. But

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I finished reading Rebecca Blood‘s book, The Weblog Handbook: Practical Advice on Creating and Maintaining Your Blog. The book may be obsolete in its instructions, but not in its philosophy. That often happens with books written before a medium becomes an industry. They describe a culture before it becomes a market. What I found myself responding to wasn’t the “how to blog” advice. It was, why did weblogging exist in the first place? Back in the early 2000s, a weblog wasn’t primarily a content strategy or a personal brand. It was more like an intellectual commonplace book opened to the

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Decentralised leadership is surprisingly simple: Leadership is not about holding responsibility. It’s about continually distributing it. Jonas Gröner’s essay adds an important nuance, though. Distribution isn’t dumping tasks onto people. It’s creating conditions where others can genuinely grow into responsibility. A distilled version might look like this: Decentralised leadership is… In one sentence A decentralized leader works to become progressively less indispensable while making the community progressively more capable. The idea that struck me most in the piece wasn’t actually decentralisation itself. It was his redefinition of success: A successful group is one where the passing on of knowledge, responsibility,

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Once upon a time, I was a news junkie. Devouring multiple newspapers and magazines. I wanted to know what was happening in the world. Partly because of my job — I was an infantry officer — and partly because I just liked knowing what was going on in the world. Then something changed. The business model incentives shifted toward engagement instead of accuracy. Headlines became optimised for reaction, not information. The work of explaining the world gave way to keeping us agitated enough to keep on clicking. Journalism’s Logical Fallacy

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I like this Kurt Vonnegut quote: “We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.” Who are you pretending to be? That’s an honest question. Approach the answer with brutal honesty and you’ll be surprised by what you discover. And let me tell you, it’s a hard question to answer. Your defensive system will kick in almost immediately with, “I’m not pretending to be anyone; I’m just me. Straight up!” Push a little harder. Oh, why do I ask myself such brutal questions on a Saturday?

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5am on a Saturday morning. I see this view every day, but today the cloud formation caught my attention. Prospects of a new day.

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We’re behind enemy lines now. Big tech. Algorithmic feeds. Scrolling culture. Newsletters. Inboxes. Synthetic sludge. If we want the signal to travel, we have to be willing to disrupt the pattern wherever people already are. The Monk still wants everything to be pristine. He remembers the old web, where people came to your site, bookmarked it, subscribed to it by choice, and came back every day to see what new thing you posted. Part of him still believes that if the hearth is warm enough, people will find their way back to it. But the habits have changed. Readers and

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going crazy from the heat…i’m on my way down to All Saints Church in Sutton Courtenay for the and to pay homage to Eric Arthur Blair, aka George Orwell. As I make the pilgrimage down to Sutton Courtenay, what I’m holding in my mind is this: Orwell didn’t predict the future. What he did do was give us names to patterns that recur whenever power seeks to dominate perception: Telescreen• Contemporary echo: smartphones, smart devices, CCTV, digital surveillance Newspeak• Contemporary echo: euphemism, jargon, slogan-thinking, language control Doublethink• Contemporary echo: ideological contradiction, tribal cognition Memory hole• Contemporary echo: deleted records,

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If you want to get a taste of what we gave up when we sold our souls to social media platforms for convenience and “reach,” read Rebecca Blood’s The Weblog Handbook: Practical Advice on Creating and Maintaining Your Blog. There’s no going back, for sure, at least not physically, but maybe philosophically. Mentally and spiritually, you could find your way back. Just saying…

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You will have the whole spectrum of experience at your fingertips, not as some tidy menu of moods, but as a roaring carnival of sensation, memory, dream, dread, hunger, laughter, grief, lust, silence, and starlight. You will be able to wander from the first spark of desire to the last breath of surrender, from the mud of the body to the outer rings of imagination, from the old gods whispering in the basement to the unborn versions of yourself knocking on the roof. Every door will open. Behind one, childhood.Behind another, apocalypse.Behind another, a jazz band made of ghosts playing

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hotel bar sessions

my new favourite podcast. one bartender. three philosophers. serving straight shots of insight directly to your earbuds.

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