I’ve a collection of incoherent nonsense in a folder called “Sola Fide,” as it’s a topic I consider often . . . usually guides me down some winding path to an unrelated but reflective epiphany, beckoning further consideration.

“I talk to god by blasting music and doing yoga.”

-me

Compartmentalizing internalized chaos is a skill I’d like to have. I’ll often cut on a flick, mute it, start some music, billow the diffusor with Eucalyptus, Lavender, or Rosemary, light some incense, candles, make some tea . . . and coffee too, drum on my practice pad, periodically yoga, and go to bed without having materially accomplished anything I’d originally set out to do at all. So, it would appear as if I can multi-task rather well . . . just not focus on a singular objective to completion. I simply . . . give up.

We all know those, though, who can impressively quiet (perhaps even silence) the boisterous badgering to do this before finishing that and start something else while forgetting about whatever’s probably still boiling on the stove . . . and has been for an hour.

Eventually, periodically . . . sometimes . . . I can so exhaust the yammering of personal fault, incomplete accomplishments, evaporating relationships, and neglected yardwork, and spring cleaning, with so many frivolous momentary distractions that I find myself desperately on the floor in a deep flow, relishing in the oxygenation for which my ever-tightening anatomy has been silently begging.

Universal whisperings tip-toe much clearer upon the mind in these moments, as they might, to a lesser degree, in the shower. Whilst contorted so, I rarely move for a pen, less I risk sabotaging my prostrated desperation, and rely upon my rapidly waning recollection to collect perhaps one profound universal truth.

In those moments, the shift from overwhelm to contentment . . . to calmness . . . understanding . . . is precious . . . perhaps religious. The Universe graciously delivered upon me a dose of this concise personal awareness the other night amid a two-hour yoga session accompanied by Rosemerry, Frankincense, and Fit for an Autopsy (who I’m going to see soon . . . fuuuuck yeah). But to get there, I’ll need to preface this mind-journey to profundity with a smidge of inception.

Now, I’ve recently watched Adolescence (as I presume many of us have)—a masterpiece—and found myself spiraling down a dark YouTube rabbit hole of terrifying human disregard, objectification, and misogyny—tread cautiously (and I plan to delve deeper into this manosphere corner more in the future, or at least exploitable Jungianesque vulnerabilities). But surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, while some of this information was genuinely astonishing, much of what I discovered seemed familiar, similar, or adjacent to commentary I’ve heard from conservative thought leaders (Tucker Carlsen, Matt Walsh, Charlie Kirk). And after starting my YouTube search with “Adolescence Manosphere,” I ended up on a video titled “The Red-pill to Alt-right pipeline.”

I work elections. It’s 37-year-old me and a half-dozen 60/70 somethings who I presume are all quite “conservative,” but, as we’re not allowed to discuss politics, I can never really know for sure (and we all get on quite well) . . . but I’m in Georgia, so let’s be realistic. Counting the ballots after 2024’s Presidential Election, I felt a palpable sadness knowing what was likely to come. Later, once demographic statistical information was more available, I was astonished to learn many Millennial and Gen-Z men had voted Republican (I’d later find out much of my own social circle voted the same—many of them married men . . . but some women too). I just couldn’t understand how a generation so exposed to the destruction of Neo-Liberalism could exercise their democratic voice for hate. The content I poured through the other night unfortunately explains this statistical data too terrifyingly well.

This “Red-pill” content is clever—there’re obscure university studies, commonsensical socio-economic factors, evolutionary psychology, natural and sexual selection, and misogyny disguised as self-betterment. I wasn’t entirely ignorant to the material, having heard of Andrew Tate and seen some of the cringy takes by Matt Wash, but there’re a lot more than the ones you’ve heard of. An example argument commonly found might be: If you are attractive and wealthy, you are more likely to be pursued by potential partners . . . well no shit! This quickly descends, however, into: If you are an unattractive man with no money, your potential partners are near-zero. Any human-connectivity component to relationship-building is entirely disregarded—Men are money-makers/power-holders and women are sex-vessels/baby-makers. This sounds familiar, right? Yeah . . . The Handmaids Tale.

I can go further, but this is sufficient to understand how quickly a young, impressionable man with minimal access to positive male role-models, looking for the tools to financial and romantic success, can end up consuming enormous quantities of not only these manosphere influencers but the “traditional values” propagated by alt-right content creators like Ben Shapiro . . . or whomever.

So . . . where the fuck was I going . . .

Right, so, yeah . . . basically, I’ve lately (since the election) allowed my social circle to essentially evaporate to a small number of individuals who are simply not Nazis. One of many things I took away from Adolescence though is that abandoning those among us to Christo-Fascism because communicating with them feels nearly impossible (and I get it, it certainly is), is realistically a dangerous allowance. There is a pipeline capitalizing on deliberately orchestrated socio-economic dire straits that leads directly to oppression and violence . . . and it must be handled.

How so can one begin to undo this energized awakening of put upon youths into aggressive misogyny, xenophobia, and authoritarianism. Well, sadly (and you’re gonna hate this) the answer is to talk with these people.

While deep in yoga-induced universal conversation, a revelation about my own personal flaws epiphanized upon me—I give up on people too quickly. An important revelation for me to explain my failed past friendships and romantic engagements, but more important to this exercise (and certainly a primary message of Adolescence) is the notion that giving up on the unstable, defeated, and weak among us, turns them right over to the violent authoritarians who want to subjugate women, the poor, the sick, the frail, the different, and the powerless. They will weaponize the abandoned lost causes of our communities into militant fearmongers.

It should theoretically be quite simple—we’re all humans going through it so let’s employ the golden rule as often as possible (I won’t get into why capitalism minimizes this possibility just now).

As to those collecting these troubled young men to hopefully orchestrate a Handmaids Tale level of mass subjugation . . . well, they’re “Christians.” They operate under the guise of “Sola Fide.” It’s Latin for “Faith Alone.” These creatures employ the scape-goat component of their mythology to disregard actions of societal and planetary betterment because they can do whatever they want knowing they’re going to heaven anyway and this stage of existence isn’t really important . . . why not exploit it?

Sola Fide is an absurd notion happily employed by many religious among us who perpetually disregard or fend-off any notion of general-betterment and care for others, and who hoard whatever material treasures they can, often to the detriment of the less fortunate around them—an expendable temporary realm to amass trophies, trash with hate, and disregard whilst awaiting a presumed home of spiritual reward this world is for them . . . disgusting.

So, while we all may indeed be treading amid some central plain, should that be the case, let us at least acknowledge that we’re treading on it with everyone else and their life-experience is no less valuable because they’re not attracted to you, or their gender-identity feels uncomfortable, or their sexuality strange, or they’re a drug-addict, or homeless, or sick, or Hispanic, or whatever other nonsense we’re encouraging division for. We’re all human, so let’s be human and not give up too easily on the brainwashed, frustrated, angry, and violent among us. Quiet the boisterous internally exasperated socio-political exhaustion . . . the chaos, find your calm, and let’s save them instead.

God bless.

-Matt

Central Plain is an awesome song by Carbon Based Lifeforms . . . check it out!

*June 2025 update: Nevermind . . . don’t talk with them.*