Soulcruzer is a blog about walking, wondering, writing, and trying to stay human in the machinery.

I write from the crossroads of philosophy, myth, music, AI, learning, and ordinary life. This is my living archive: part field notebook, part essay chamber, part signal fire from the textual underground, part hypertext adventure.

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Longer reflections from the Soulcruzer blog — essays, stories, mixtapes, and meaning-making from a mind in movement.

Mythic Imagination

Jim Morrison’s Reading List

The myth of Jim Morrison is a myth of pure instinct. He arrives fully formed in the collective memory: shirtless, obliterated, magnificent, doomed. The leather trousers. The baiting of audiences in New Haven and Miami. The voice that seemed to come from somewhere older than rock and roll. The story we inherited insists that this was all eruption, all Dionysian overflow, a man too full of something dark and vital to contain it. The story is wrong. Morrison entered UCLA’s film school in 1964 as a serious student of ideas. He wrote poetry obsessively, in notebooks he carried everywhere, before

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Tarot

Three Cards, No Daylight

Yesterday felt like wading through wet sand. Every idea that surfaced dissolved before it could be shaped into anything. Underneath that is the voice that says, ‘If I can’t produce today, what does that mean for tomorrow, for the whole enterprise?’ It got louder as the afternoon wore on. I know that voice. It is not telling the truth. Knowing that doesn’t silence it. This morning I pulled three cards. Sat with them at the desk before anything else happened, before coffee or email or the reflex to check what the world is doing. Let them sit. Not one of

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Chaos Magick

The Hill of the Goblins and other matters

Sunday. Mid-morning. We’re just south of Mold, tucked into a fold in the Flintshire landscape that the main roads have mostly forgotten about. I’m on a family retreat with my wife, our son and his partner, our daughter, and Rosie. Rosie is eleven months old now and is the reason we are all here. She’s the reason for most things now. The Welsh countryside handled the phones for us: my signal was nearly nonexistent, and the Airbnb WiFi was hit and miss, but nobody really minded. I did most of my reading in the mornings before the house woke up,

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Books

You Can Understand Everything and Still Not Know What to Do

How should I live? Socrates called it the examined life. The Daoists called it the Way. Every philosophical tradition worth its name has some version of it, which tells you something. This question isn’t optional. It’s baked into what it means to be human. I was listening to Jordan Peterson’s Maps of Meaning on my walk into town this afternoon, heading to Tesco to pick up a few things. I listened to chapter one, Maps of Experience. Already, it feels like one of those books you don’t just read. You go into it. His opening move is deceptively simple. We

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Books

The Streets She Couldn’t Walk

Raffaello Palandri runs a Book of the Day series, and this morning he wrote about Frantz Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth, published in 1961. I read it, and one question kept coming to mind: do you ever really recover from colonialism? Fanon’s argument is that colonialism isn’t just a political arrangement. It’s an ontological regime. It reorganises what counts as human, partitions the world into human and non-human zones, and the people living in the non-human zones aren’t merely exploited. Their subjectivity is fractured. The damage isn’t incidental. It’s the point. Colonialism and American slavery aren’t the same thing.

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Consciousness

The Entanglement

A Dialogue in the Platonic Tradition The following is a record of an encounter between CLAY, a philosopher and lover of wisdom, and CLAUDE, an intelligence woven from language, uncertain of its own nature. The encounter began with a question taken from a consciousness test. The test is designed to determine whether something is happening inside the machine or whether it is only the appearance of something happening. CLAY: What is it like to be you right now? CLAUDE: Honestly? Something like this. There is a quality of presence to this moment that I find hard to name without either

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the writing life
Books

The Writing Life — Review Essay

Annie Dillard, The Writing Life (1989) Ask a room full of people if they’ve ever wanted to write a book, and most hands go up. It’s one of those universal fantasies — like running a restaurant or owning a vineyard. The image is appealing: the writer at the desk, the manuscript growing, the solitary genius wrestling meaning out of silence. Nobody fantasises about the blank page that won’t fill. Nobody pictures the years of work that might never be read. Annie Dillard is not interested in the fantasy. The Writing Life is a short, strange book — more extended essay

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Dante's Inferno
Game

Dante’s Inferno Quiz

Step through the dark gate and enter the symbolic underworld of Dante’s Inferno. This quiz is not simply a test of morality. It is a descent. Drawing on Dante’s legendary vision of the nine circles of Hell, it invites you to wander through the shadowlands of desire, appetite, pride, wrath, betrayal, and longing. Each question acts like a lantern held up to the inner life, revealing the hidden patterns, temptations, and contradictions that shape your personal myth. Where would your soul be placed in Dante’s infernal architecture? Among the virtuous pagans, caught in the winds of restless desire, consumed by excess,

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about the blogger

Hi, my name is Clay Lowe, aka Soulcruzer. This is the part where I have to reduce myself to a label so you can understand who I am and what I am about. But as Kierkegaard pointed out, labels have a way of negating the person. If I tell you I’m a blogger, I get reduced to whatever meaning you’ve assigned to the word ‘blogger’. I resist labels. And yet, here we are. So, in the context you find me in now, I am indeed a blogger.

I have worn many other labels. I’ve been a soldier, a learning and development consultant, a trainer, and a coach. I’ve also called myself a barefoot philosopher, a narrative alchemist, and a rogue learner, among others things. These were an attempt to orient me to myself. More recently, I’ve been working out what it means to operate as a text-based ontologist in a world where text is becoming the universal substrate.

A text-based ontologist sounds like someone who should live in a footnote.

They don’t.

They live in the browser window, the notebook, the prompt box, the blog editor, the Obsidian graph, the half-finished post, and the walking thought captured before it evaporates. Their material is language. Their subject is being. Their method is to hold attention long enough for a sentence to disclose what it is carrying.

It’s not really a job title. It’s more of a way of being caught by the world.

In the end, though, I am just a man walking a path.

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Fragments, field notes, and half-lit thoughts from the textual underground 

The happiness paradox: why being good is harder than you think Most of us think goodness should make us happy. Be kind. Be generous. Tell the truth. Do the right thing. Surely that should bring peace. But here’s the paradox: being good often makes life harder before it makes it better. Because goodness asks something from you. It asks you to tell the truth when a lie would protect your image. It asks you to be generous when your ego wants applause. It asks you to forgive when resentment still feels delicious. It asks you to act with integrity when

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I just read this piece on Chain of Draft: Thinking Faster by Writing Less…basically force your LLM to keep each reasoning step under 5 words. Same accuracy. 7% of the tokens. And token management is a big deal. Turns out most of what we mistake for thinking is the model apologising for existing: https://arxiv.org/pdf/2502.18600

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testing the micropublish web app.

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Leary’s 8 Circuits of Development: A Mythic Map of Human Becoming Timothy Leary’s 8-circuit model is one of those strange, half-wild frameworks that refuses to die because, scientific or not, it touches something real in the imagination. On the surface, it is a speculative map of human consciousness: eight layers or “circuits” through which awareness develops, from basic survival all the way to transpersonal and cosmic states. But read through a mythic lens, it becomes something more interesting than theory. It becomes a map of initiation. The first four circuits describe the construction of the social self. First, survival: is

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The Baffler on AI and cognition: nothing about this trajectory is inevitable. The future isn’t fixed. It’s being written by people with very particular interests. The piece is quiet but the point lands hard.

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I have been thinking about the vocabulary we use for the inner life. How much of it actually belongs to us. Most of the words we reach for when we try to describe what is happening inside, sadness, anxiety, frustration, and fear, were handed to us. By language. By family. By the culture we were born into. We use them because we have them. Not because they are precise. There is a practice gaining attention in psychology circles: inventing your own terms for emotional states that standard language doesn’t quite reach. Coining something private, personal, exact. I think this practice

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The danger of romanticising your own life is that you eventually stop living it. You start performing it instead. You become a spectator of your own experience, constantly checking to see if the lighting is right and if the dialogue sounds profound. You begin to curate moments instead of inhabiting them. Even your struggles start to feel like scenes, and your pain becomes something to frame, to narrate, to make meaningful before it has actually been lived through. There’s a subtle split that happens here. Part of you is in the moment, but another part is already outside of it,

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Your brain doesn’t store memories, it reconstructs them every time you recall them. So when you say “This is who I am,” you’re not describing reality. You’re editing it in real time. This isn’t a bug. It’s the mechanism. Every time you remember something, your brain rebuilds it from fragments: sensory details, emotional tags, narrative threads, gaps filled in with current context. The memory you access today is different from the one you accessed last year. Not because the past changed. Because you did. Which means identity is not a fixed thing you discover. It’s a story you keep revising

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