The Machine.

Sometimes it feels like the human race is conducting a giant science experiment. We were born into a world that serves up an abundance of divine gifts in the form of clean water, fresh air, sunlight, food, wildlife, and monumental beauty. Then somewhere along the line perhaps someone thought, “Meh, this isn’t good enough, let’s tear it all down and re-build this place how I want it.”

In the J.R.R. Tolkien novel The Silmarillion, there is a character called Iluvatar or The One. From my understanding, he represents God. Iluvatar made offspring called the Ainur…they were considered Holy Ones. Iluvatar gave them a purpose to create great harmonious music that filled the void. As this fascinating story continues, there’s a passage that reads:

“…Iluvatar sat and hearkened, and for a great while it seemed good to him, for in the music there were no flaws. But as the theme progressed, it came into the heart of Melkor to interweave matters of his own imagining that were not in accord with the theme of Iluvatar; for he sought therein to increase the power and glory of the part assigned to himself. To Melkor among the Ainur had been given the greatest gifts of power and knowledge, and he had a share in all the gifts of his brethren. He had gone often alone into the void places seeking the Imperishable Flame; for desire grew hot within him to bring into Being things of his own, and it seemed to him that Iluvatar took no thought for the Void, and he was impatient of its emptiness. Yet he found not the Fire, for it is with Iluvatar. But being alone he had begun to conceive thoughts of his own unlike those of his brethren. Some of these thoughts he now wove into his music, and straightway discord arose about him, and many that sang nigh him grew despondent, and their thought was disturbed and their music faltered; but some began to attune their music to his rather than to the thought which they had at first. Then the discord of Melkor spread even wider, and the melodies which had been heard before foundered in a sea of turbulent sound. But Iluvatar sat and hearkened until it seemed that about his throne there was a raging storm, as of dark waters that made war one upon another in an endless wrath that would not be assuaged.”

Take a moment to slowly read that passage again. I find myself asking, what if humans are the Holy Ones? Have we been conducting music, or creating lifestyles that are out of tune with our Creator’s original intention for us? Have we been deceived by a modern day Melkor? Has this Melkor persona subtly convinced us to give up our harmonious life that’s connected to the Imperishable Flame of our Creator? Are we creating lives that serve and enrich Mr. Melkor instead? Has this dissonant note reverberated from one generation to the next for thousands of years becoming unrecognizable that it is indeed a sour note?

(Holy smokes, that’s a lot of questions!)

As Pink Floyd once sang, “Welcome to the Machine”.

What is the machine? (Another question for the list.)

The dictionary definition of machine is: a mechanically, electrically, or electronically operated device for performing a task.

For this writing’s sake, I am referring to the machine as the worldly systems that govern healthcare, education, finances, business, big pharma, big tech, etc. Oh yeah, we’re about to get into it.

As a mother of two sons, one heavenly angel and one earth angel, I am keenly observing what shapes a tiny human into a big human. I had 24 years of observation with Dominic. I’m going on 10 years of observation with my younger son. Now, I may not hold some fancy college degree, but the role of mother has educated me exponentially. Tending to a person’s physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual needs is a lifelong quest. In fact, even after physical death, the spiritual relationship continues on. I feel this motherly role is the most important assignment of my life. My state of being immensely affects my children. I am only one piece of the pie in their lives though. There are a few other pieces that shape them too…the relationship with their fathers, extended family, the education system, the healthcare system, and the community they grow up in.

The newborn and early infancy stages of life with my son’s felt like a cocoon. We were primarily home, nursing, sleeping, healing, bathing, taking walks in our neighborhood, and learning each other’s rhythms. With Dominic I was only allotted about 6 weeks time at home before returning to part time work. With my younger son I was fortunate enough to stay home for 4 months before returning to full time work. The latter of both of those sentences is really the first big example of the machine at work. Mother’s returning to work while their babies are still breastfeeding and fully dependent on their nurturing. It may not be that way for every nation, or every mother, but it was for me. The typical working class mother in America takes 10 weeks of maternity leave according to Zero to Three.‍ Of course many families are blessed with father’s too, but the average paternity leave length is only 1-2 weeks in American culture. With mom home, receiving a fraction of her typical income from state benefits, dad’s generally end up carrying the financial slack, sacrificing precious time with their babies. Time they never get back. Once both parents return to work, generally their baby is only 2-4 months old. The baby is usually left in the care of a trusted family member, nanny, or enrolled in a daycare center. The brand new baby doesn’t understand much of anything at this point other than mommy’s breastmilk or bottle, daddy’s embrace, and the presence of any siblings. We all were born as baby’s. From a psychological standpoint, it could be said that many working class American’s are instilled with an abandonment wound from the very beginning of our lives. This may just be the first piece of music in our lives symphony written out of tune for us.

When looking to nature’s way with other mammals, the time younglings spend with their mothers far surpasses humans. To note a few for context, this Newsweek article states that elephants stay alongside their mama’s for 4-6 years. Lion cubs hang around mom for 2-3 years. Dolphins nurse their young for 2-3 years. Last, giraffe’s stick with mom for close to 2 years. From these few examples, one could conclude that healthy mammals remain with their mother’s in their early stages for multiple years before venturing off into the wild. By the Creator’s design, or God’s design if you will, mammals are meant to stay close to their caretakers in early life. For us human’s though, it’s been normalized to leave our baby’s with others at merely 2-4 months old. Whom may I ask is dictating this unnatural momentum? Mr. Melkor…is that you?

Now, let’s continue on to the toddler and adolescent stages of life. Equipped with a freshly instilled abandonment wound, many toddlers enter pre-school or transitional kindergarten while their parents continue working. New teachers, caregivers, routines, and children, all different than the security of mom, dad, and the family they feel comfortable with. This could be considered frightening and overwhelming to many kids, adding another layer of emotional distress to the already acquired abandonment wound. At such a young age, it’s too early for a child to express any apprehension towards pre-school or TK. Plus, mom and dad are out there earning the income necessary to provide food, shelter, and clothing. Would the child’s anxiety be addressed now that both parents are pre-occupied with other societal roles? Early concepts of socializing, sharing, reading, and organized play are introduced in this new environment. 2 - 4 year olds are heavily influenced in these new surroundings and are figuring out their own identity away from their trusted parents without the emotional maturity to do so. Then comes kindergarten, elementary school, middle school, and high school. Surely there are many compassionate and caring teachers in the educational system doing their best to foster a healthy atmosphere. However, if there is any difference in the way a child learns or absorbs curriculum, they are often labeled as slow, challenged, or problematic. Being the mother of boys, I’ve clearly noticed that the male kind carry a boundless amount of energy. Expecting young boys, full of excitement, to sit in a chair for longer than 15 minutes while listening to someone explain foreign, often lackluster concepts seems like an impossible task. I am a grown woman, and I cannot sit in a chair for longer than 15 minutes without feeling the need to get up, move, stretch, bend, twist, use the restroom, or step outside for fresh air. I’m confident to say that our bodies were meant to move around during the day…it’s why we have joints, muscles, and tissues. We were also made with 5 physical senses…sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch.

I’ve only touched on the more physical and behavioral aspects of schooling. The social - emotional component is an entirely new ball game. If a child is labeled a problem, how do you think the relationship with the teacher, school staff, or their peers plays out? Punishment becomes the norm. Recess is revoked. Peers may begin to outcast the child. Any hints of fun are removed. The child shuts down and doesn’t want to go to school anymore. Then the struggle begins between the parents and the child each morning, Monday through Friday. The parents have to get to work to run their part of the machine. The parents disregard their child’s needs and the family unit begins to feel chronic stress. The machine keeps running regardless and the family unit begins to divide or build resentments towards one another. Seems like a classic Melkor move, right?

In Dominic’s case, the above scene described played out at his elementary school. He was having trouble sitting in his chair. He would get up to sharpen his pencil, get a tissue, or ask to use the restroom repeatedly. I still don’t quite understand how any of these scenarios are a problem, but his first grade teacher deemed them so. The school nurse and school counselor suggested he be taken to see a child psychiatrist to test him for ADHD. Reminder, he was in first grade. His teacher was in the late stages of her teaching career and perhaps wasn’t as patient as one could’ve been when working with 6 and 7 year olds. I was around 28 years old at that time and let the school dictate what was best for my son; a regret I still carry with me today. I followed their suggestion and found a child psychiatrist within our medical insurance network. He was tested for ADHD on the second session, which consisted of him sitting in a chair in front of a computer. Upon his third session he was prescribed adderall. My 6 year old son began taking medically prescribed legalized amphetamines so he could sit in a chair longer, pacify his teacher, and get his class work done.

It almost seems like over time marketing executives from the pharmaceutical, insurance, and healthcare industries linked up with the education system. Disguised as “help” for kids and teachers, they found a whole new pool of younger, potential lifelong patients and consumers. Looking back, I believe this is where the chemical component of addiction began for Dom. His brain was chemically altered during its early formation; dopamine levels were tampered with. It never felt right handing him those pills; I ignored my motherly intuition and listened to the so called experts. He took a low dose of adderall for the remainder of his first grade year. Once summer came, he went off of them. For 2nd grade, we enrolled him in a private Catholic school. He continued taking adderall for part of his 2nd grade school year; he began having the same clash with his 2nd grade teacher. She too was at the later stages of her teaching career. Again, once summer came around, he went off of them. His 3rd and 4th grade teachers were like refreshing rays of sunshine and had no problem reminding Dominic to bring his homework home and gave him doses of encouragement during class. They saw and fueled the bright spark in him like we had always hoped. Simple support efforts can have a big impact on a child; medication is not always the answer. He never went back on adderall. He went through some spiritual steps in this school as well with baptism, first reconciliation, and first communion. At that time, I was not a full believer in Christ, but I am so grateful other members of our community planted those seeds in him. Perhaps they were being planted in me too and I’m just now realizing that. I remember tucking him into bed during that 4th grade year; we would pray together. Around this timeframe a family member gifted him a gold and silver cross necklace. After he passed away, I found it in my jewelry box. I wear that cross every day now.

We moved into a new home for his 5th grade year. We ended up being in the school zone for one of the top rated elementary schools in the Long Beach Unified School District. The school was in our neighborhood right across the street from the Marina and the Colorado Lagoon. It was a 3 minute drive or a 15 minute walk away. They offered low cost after school care. We decided to give the public school system another try and give up the 30 minute drive and monthly private school expense. He had a decent 5th grade year. He joined the boy scouts at his previous school so he could stay connected with some of his friends there. The middle school he eventually transferred over to was right next door to the elementary school; the transition was smooth. His 6th and 7th grade years both went well. He played little league baseball after school. He made friends with our neighbors kids and they would all walk home from school together for a while.

Then 8th grade came. It was all good in the beginning, but right around the tale end and the summer between 8th and 9th grade, he started hanging with a new crowd…the skaters. It was bittersweet because the sport of skateboarding lit him up, but these particular skater kids smoked pot. I chalked it up to youthful exploration back then, but it was soon off to the races from there. High school came around and pot smoking escalated into pill popping during his sophomore year. We tried to support him through that the best way we knew how at the time. He was in weekly therapy and we had monthly family sessions. At home drug tests made an appearance for a little while. The pills seemed to have stopped for a time, but the pot smoking never ceased. At this time, around 2016 or so, marijuana was becoming legalized in California. Pot shops popped up all around us. Within a 3 mile radius, you could probably find about 7 weed stores. Sure, you’d have to be 21 to buy from them, but those trusty 21 year olds would stock up, hit the skate parks, and make a profit off the teens. Add in social media apps like Instagram and drug dealing to high school kids spread like wildfire. Let’s remember too, this was not the same naturally grown pot from the 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, or 90’s. Its high potency and genetically modified make up started obliterating healthy brain cells. Since then, the whole weed industry has grown just as fast as its destroyed teenaged brain cells. There’s all kinds of concentrated waxes and edibles…sometimes it just seems like candy. With Dominic’s neurotransmitters already wired for addiction, he barely stood a chance.

I’m so glad we now live in a county where marijuana is still illegal; only surrounding counties have weed shops around. Our younger son has a better chance of making it through his middle and high school years without this cloud of smoke hovering around. He unfortunately also has the life experience of watching his older brother die from addiction. From an early age, he’s learned that drugs can kill you. Add in two hard core sober parents…I believe his odds of beating this family disease are in his favor.

From my experience guiding Dominic through the entirety of the California school system my questions started brewing. Were these establishments in tune with the best intentions for my son? He did graduate high school and even made it on the honor roll for the last quarter of his senior year. Once he completed the 12+ year journey, the questions went dormant for a while. However, our younger son is now having his first troublesome experience with school this 4th grade year. His pre-K through 3rd grade years were a blessing. He had great connections with his teachers and peers. I’m hoping and praying this year is just a learning curve for him. I can’t help re-visiting these long brewed questions though.

With a much clearer mind these days, it’s become blazingly apparent there seems to be flat notes subconsciously written into the score of the education system, preparing our youth for a long term lifestyle performing in the worldly machine. The government also keeps cutting back on the education budget. Perhaps what once began with good intentions has become dulled down or overly institutionalized. This same drab rhythm may often be carried into the college experience or the workforce. Life can feel dim for the younger generations and even the more mature generations whom may be burnt out from running in the machine for so long. Many folks reach for wine, beer, hard alcohol, weed, other narcotics, prescribed meds, shopping, video games, gambling, over-eating, acquiring fast money, or fill in the blank. There are many pleasure filled poisons to pick from these days, along with unpleasurable ones like starving oneself or self-harm. When we start depending on these devices or behaviors to cope with life or feel good for a little while, addiction often sets in. Ol’ Melkor then has us right where he wants us…trapped, enslaved, powerless, and easy to manipulate.

Queue the substance use disorder treatment industry. The detox units are filled with prescription meds to taper clients off of one or multiple illegal substances only to get them hooked on legal meds which also have a high potential for abuse. This keeps those fat cats in the big pharma companies, insurance companies, and rehabs well fed. Not every treatment center or sober living home is in it for the money, but Dominic went to a few that were. We sadly found this out the hard way. I did not list those places on the Recovery Resources page. The rehab industry is wild to navigate without any experience. If you are in the place where you’re looking to attend treatment or someone you care about is, take caution: there are frauds or body brokers out there.

One of the last serious questions Dominic asked me before he passed was, “Is this what everyone subscribes to mom?” I remember the look in his big blue eyes and the tone in his voice. There was a distinct note of disappointment and let down. He was about to go to work, and also said, “I mean, I’m grateful for what I have, but this is it?” I could feel his longing for something more, something better, something real, something true. I could relate to what he was feeling. I remember feeling that same way in my early twenties, then into my thirties, even in my forties until I found sobriety, recovery, and Christ. Later that day after he went to work, I sent him a text that read…

“To wrap up that convo. Although we are here now in this modern oligarchic society; remember it’s only a humble blip in the vast eternity of the entire universe/all realms/God.

For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come. -Hebrews 13:14 NLT

Seek the kingdom of God above all else and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need. -Matthew 6:33 NLT”

I then included a GIF of the sea turtle character, Crush, from the Finding Nemo movie. He was saying “RIGHTEOUS!” as he road through the East Australian Current. :) That was sent on October 20th, 2024…13 days before his soul fully met God.

Please try not to misunderstand what I’m saying; I have a lot of respect for teachers, educators, and caregivers…the ones that truly care and are in it to build people up. I understand we were all born into the same flawed system and are trying our best to navigate through it. The long winded point I am trying to make is, our very society by design is out of tune with our God-given nature. By the time we go through the entire institutionalized educational system from pre-K to high school, it seems we have been subconsciously programmed with faulty notes by the machinist. Our shiny, humming souls that once sang in magnificent tune with our Creator, now have layers of emotional goo stuck to them creating out of step tones. The original abandonment wound echoes through quite often into adult hood unless something prompts us to look at it. It seems grim, I know, but keep hopeful…there is a solution.

I’d like to remind every pair of eyes reading this, including my own; we have a choice. We can make a decision to gracefully look at our lives in detail from the very beginning to current day. What happened along the way? What circumstances may have affected our own outlook on life? What do we want to let go of or prune away so we can feel the joy of life again? What has helped us grow that we’d like to hang on to? At the very center of ourselves where we feel our hearts beating…whom is beating our hearts for us? That’s God’s beat. God’s cord. God’s song…playing through us. Let’s remember to feel it, embrace it, and let it guide us.

Perhaps we can all ask God to place us in the current that makes us shout out, RIGHTEOUS!! What does that look like for you? For me, it’s starting with the Love is Free Foundation. Thanks so much for joining me and all who keep showing up to support this mission on this epic ride! <3