The Human Industrial Complex didn’t begin in America, or Britain, or even Rome. It is very old. Older than Caesar, older than the Pharaohs, older than the ziggurats of Babylon. This is its origin story
I went looking for the biblical basis for the idea that God commands obedience to government. I found one passage in the New Testament. One.
And context matters
A Quaker Meeting House in North Carolina. A message about the fruits of slowing down. The Peace of Wild things by Wendell Berry
Benjamin Lay, c. 1681 - 3 Feb 1759
Artist: William Williams, Sr.
National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution
A gray haired woman wearing a jaunty hat reclining on a rattan loveseat in the woods, shovel by her side, she is holding up a handmade sign that says “Pardon My Joy”
Excerpt:
In today’s chaos economy, anything ethical is mocked as “performative.” Compassion is branded cringe. And somehow, choosing beans over beef is framed as elitist—while backyard chicken farming is celebrated as salt-of-the-earth. None of it makes sense unless you realize: it’s not about food. It’s about control. We’re being sold the illusion of structure through dominance, not care. Veganism threatens that illusion—not because it’s smug, but because it’s sovereign. It dares to act without exploiting. And that, in a system built on hierarchy, is radical.
Maybe the problem isn’t that women choose bad boys. Maybe the problem is that patriarchy gives them no room to choose differently—and then blames them when the structure fails. We don’t need better men; we need a better village.
There are people who grow by moving through space—traveling, relocating, trying new foods in new countries, drinking local wine or beer, learning new customs, maybe even picking up a language or two.
Then there are people who grow by moving through time. They stay rooted, watching the same streets evolve over decades, carrying the stories of their communities in their bones.
We romanticize one, and dismiss the other—depending on how far away it is. But the truth is, both hold wisdom. Both are necessary.
If all we ever do is wander, we risk becoming untethered.
If all we ever do is stay, we risk becoming closed off.
Together, we offer one another identity and expansion, resilience and rest.
Maybe the most radical thing we can do right now is build bridges between these ways of being.
I have real grief watching our country lose its integrity and soul. As any serious person should — watching democracy crumble, watching the most heartbreaking human rights violations unfold while comfortable people stay silent. Not even a word. Not even acknowledgment of those who are trying.
And honestly it tells me which of my friends would probably have my back in a crisis and which ones would quietly whisper to themselves “well, she brought it on herself” while voyeuristically watching my life unfold without lifting a finger.