The Great Liberation: Part II
Faith, Weirdness, and the Revolution of Becoming
How to Transcend the Old System Without Fighting It
OVERVIEW
This is the spiritual and strategic sequel to Part I. Where Part I laid out the conditions for superabundance (via tech, trust, and design), Part II will explore the barriers—both internal and systemic—that obscure it, and how we transmute them not through opposition but through higher-order orientation: faith, imagination, myth, weirdness, and creative refusal.
This is where Rushkoff’s spoilsport, Bucky’s obsoletion principle, and the alchemical poetry of Gene Key 53 all converge.
Prelude: What Stands in the Way Isn’t in the Way—It Is the Way
A friend recently asked:
“I love your vision of superabundance. But how do we actually deal with the world as it is now? The greed. The sociopathy in power. The old system doesn’t want to let go.”
That question cuts straight to the heart of the matter.
Because to speak of superabundance without addressing the violence of the current paradigm is to write poetry while the house burns. But to dwell on dysfunction without vision is to burn in place, offering nothing but analysis as the embers settle.
So here, in this second volume of The Great Liberation, we enter the paradox.
We do not look away from the shadows.
But we also don’t fight them on their terms.
Instead, we begin to remember how reality is shaped:
Not by resistance, but resonance.
Not by opposition, but obsolescence.
Not by outrage, but by outrageous faith.
This isn’t blind optimism.
It’s mythic strategy.
Because the real fight isn’t about power.
The real fight is about attention.
And whatever we make sacred with our words and presence becomes the seed of the next world.
1. The Invisible Empire: Sociopathy in Power, and Why It Can’t Create
Let’s name it plainly.
The systems currently running the world—finance, governance, media, energy—are largely governed by principles of control, extraction, and surveillance. And at the helm of many of these systems are individuals who, whether psychologically disordered or spiritually starved, operate without empathy.
Let’s not sugarcoat that.
Let’s also not let it hijack our imagination.
Because here’s the truth:
Sociopathy cannot innovate.
It can mimic, hijack, and manipulate.
But it cannot create.
It has no poetry.
No surprise.
No capacity for love.
The dominator paradigm knows how to predict, police, and profit. But it cannot make life. It cannot make art. It cannot make love. It cannot make sense of mystery.
And so it clings to control.
It fears weirdness. It fears improvisation. It fears play.
Because play is unpredictable.
Love is non-linear.
And mystery will not be owned.
This is why the systems of control always try to domesticate rebellion. They turn revolution into trend. They commodify resistance into brand. They build apps for dissent. Because the only way they can survive is to turn anomalies into algorithms.
But there is something deeper than all that.
There is the soul.
And the soul cannot be managed.
2. Buckminster’s Secret: Don’t Fight the System—Make It Irrelevant
“You never change things by fighting the existing reality,” said Buckminster Fuller.
“To change something, build a new model that makes the old model obsolete.”
This is not just a strategy.
It is a metaphysical law.
What you fight, you animate.
What you obsess over, you enlarge.
What you resist, you help persist.
The dominator paradigm is like a parasite that needs your attention to stay alive.
So how do you slay it?
You don’t.
You outgrow it.
You build a new terrain, so beautiful, so magnetic, so functional, that the old one becomes embarrassing to defend.
This is how the forest overtakes the mall.
This is how jazz overtakes war drums.
This is how love overtakes law.
And this is where the builders, the lovers, the mythmakers, the poets, the farmers, the fools, and the shamans become more powerful than the politicians.
Because they’re not trying to fix the old story.
They’re writing the new one.
And in the new story, wealth is measured in well-being, status is measured in sincerity, and governance happens through trust, not enforcement.
This isn’t utopianism.
This is alternative infrastructure.
You don’t need to overthrow the empire.
You need to stop using its language.
3. The Myth of Finite Resources—and the Truth of Infinite Creativity
One of the deepest lies that upholds the dominator system is this:
“There’s not enough.”
Not enough food.
Not enough money.
Not enough energy.
Not enough land, time, love, beauty, wisdom, freedom.
This myth justifies every form of greed.
It’s the root narrative that underwrites war, hoarding, and compliance.
But the truth?
We don’t have a scarcity of resources.
We have a scarcity of imagination.
Let’s take food: We waste 30–40% of it globally every year.
Let’s take energy: The sun delivers 10,000x more energy to Earth per day than we need.
Let’s take shelter: Empty homes outnumber the homeless in most developed nations.
Let’s take love: It multiplies the moment it’s shared.
Scarcity is not a material condition.
It is a metaphysical posture.
Yes, there are real limits to certain materials.
But there are no limits to creativity, cooperation, or care.
And these are the forces that regenerate worlds.
So when people ask: But aren’t resources finite?
I say:
Maybe.
But reality isn’t.
Because consciousness is the true resource.
And when consciousness expands, everything else reorganizes.
You don’t need infinite copper if you have infinite creativity.
You don’t need infinite growth if you have infinite regeneration.
You don’t need infinite bandwidth if you have infinite beauty.
The dominator paradigm doesn’t understand this.
But the living system does.
The soul does.
And the builders of the new world do.
4. Gene Key 53: From Immaturity to Superabundance
To understand what kind of consciousness allows superabundance to take root, we turn now to Gene Key 53—a frequency map of human development, coded in metaphor.
Its spectrum moves from Immaturity → Expansion → Superabundance.
At the shadow frequency—immaturity—we cling to proof before action. We demand evidence before trust. We need someone else to go first before we leap. It is the posture of delay, the energetic signature of I’m not ready yet.
In a world run by domination and distrust, immaturity is not a personal failing—it’s an inherited program. One that keeps us orbiting safety. One that says, “Don’t plant the seed unless you know the harvest is guaranteed.”
But life doesn’t work like that.
Creation requires risk.
Love requires leap.
And superabundance—the flowering of more-than-enough—only happens after we’ve already begun giving.
Expansion is not the reward for certainty.
It is the consequence of courage.
The middle frequency—expansion—is when the seed begins to trust its own unfolding. It doesn’t rush. It doesn’t measure growth daily. It doesn’t compare itself to the oak. It expands because it must.
And in that expansion, a miracle occurs:
The seed doesn’t just become a tree.
It becomes a forest.
Because once a being has tasted expansion, it no longer wants to hoard energy. It wants to create conditions—to give what it didn’t receive, to become what others may grow from.
This is Superabundance:
Not a stockpile of goods.
But the overflowing trust that there is always more to become.
And this changes everything.
You no longer build a platform to succeed—you build it to give others a place to leap from.
You no longer love to be loved—you love because that’s what you are.
You no longer make art to be seen—you make it because your soul is singing too loudly to stay silent.
Superabundance is not utopian.
It is post-permission.
It is what happens when faith becomes more attractive than proof.
5. The Spoilsport’s Role: Weirdness as Strategic Liberation
Douglas Rushkoff writes:
“In a world run by algorithms, weirdness is our best weapon.”
Not rebellion.
Not protest.
Not escalation.
But weirdness.
Why? Because weirdness cannot be modeled.
Weirdness is what AI cannot compute, what empire cannot monetize, what the surveillance system cannot categorize.
And that makes it dangerous—in the best possible way.
In Team Human, Rushkoff explains the archetype of the spoilsport: the one who refuses to play the game at all. Not because they’re losing. But because the game itself is rigged.
In Western cultures, we exile these people: the mystic, the clown, the fool, the wild woman, the glitch.
In indigenous cultures, they are revered: the shaman, the trickster, the anomaly.
Because they remind us:
What is normal is not necessarily natural.
What is accepted is not necessarily true.
What is optimized is not necessarily alive.
Weirdness scrambles the system.
Not to destroy it—but to reveal its unreality.
To say: “This isn’t the only way.”
Humor is weirdness.
Song is weirdness.
Genuine eye contact is weirdness.
A dinner shared with no agenda is weirdness.
Falling in love in a world that sells loneliness is weirdness.
Weirdness is unmonetizable humanity.
And that’s why it’s the crack in the simulation where God gets in.
6. Faith in the Unseen: Why We Must Believe to See
The old world demanded: “Prove it first.”
But the new one whispers: “Choose it first.”
We’ve long been taught that seeing is believing.
But all great mystics, artists, and innovators have known the opposite:
Believing is seeing.
You don’t wait for evidence to live in love.
You live in love—and watch the evidence rearrange.
This is not magical thinking.
It’s hyperstitional programming.
A hyperstition is a story that becomes true because people believe it before it's provable.
Currency is a hyperstition.
Marriage is a hyperstition.
The nation-state is a hyperstition.
So is scarcity.
So is time.
These are not “objective realities.”
They are beliefs made durable through repetition, ritual, and mass agreement.
The same is true for superabundance.
We don’t wait for the world to prove it’s possible.
We live it now.
We speak it.
We build like it.
We treat others like it’s real.
And in time, it is.
Because at a certain level of spiritual evolution, you stop asking, “Is it true?” and start asking:
“What does this story do to me when I believe it?”
That is the architecture of faith.
Not dogma.
Not superstition.
But the choice to dwell in a reality you are helping bring into being.
We call it hyperstition.
But maybe it’s just the technology of love.
7. God as the Architect of Superabundance
Let’s speak clearly now:
Without God, superabundance is impossible.
Not the God of doctrines, punishments, and pulpits.
But the God who knows your breath before you breathe it.
The God who is not separate from your becoming.
The God who dreamed this world through you.
Because superabundance is not the product of efficient systems—it is the fruit of divine trust.
To live in superabundance is to participate in a sacred unfolding. It is to believe that life wants you here. That life is not a test. That grace is not an exception.
The dominator paradigm cannot fathom this.
It believes everything must be earned.
But in the divine economy, love precedes merit.
Life precedes proof.
Miracles precede belief.
And it is precisely this faith in the goodness of Source—this refusal to collapse our lives into the measurable—that generates the energy field of transformation.
Let’s be honest: we won’t build new systems just because they’re “more sustainable.”
We’ll build them because we are in love.
With God.
With each other.
With the earth.
With what we know is possible, even if we can’t prove it.
That is the only fuel strong enough to carry us across the abyss.
Superabundance is the condition that emerges when enough people
are crazy enough to trust the Creator more than the market.
That trust is not naïve.
It is ancestral.
It’s what allowed seeds to be planted, babies to be born, rituals to be danced, and revolutions to be sung long before anyone could guarantee the outcome.
Faith is not passive.
It is the fiercest form of authorship.
8. The New Role of the Artist-Shaman-Spoilsport
So who, then, leads us?
Not the tech elite.
Not the party politicians.
Not the legacy influencers.
But the artists, the shamans, and the sacred spoilsports.
The ones willing to look ridiculous in order to remind us what’s real.
They are the cultural mycelium—the ones who transmute death into nectar, fear into beauty, oppression into laughter.
They wield tools like:
Satire sharper than a CEO’s quarterly report
Paintings that melt language
Music that rearranges grief
Performance that can’t be bought
Rants that become prayers
They do not obey the logic of scale.
They do not chase virality.
They do not seek consensus.
They seek presence.
Because presence is the last thing you can’t fake.
And presence, when practiced in public, becomes rebellion as devotion.
These artists are not here to “fix” the system.
They are here to remember what it feels like to be alive—and share that remembrance like wildfire.
In a world of algorithms and simulations, they walk as the glitch.
They glitch reality not through critique, but through care.
Their weirdness is not random.
It is ritual strategy.
9. The Bridge Between Worlds: Designing the Culture of Faith
The challenge now is to design for belief.
Not belief in dogma.
Belief in each other.
To build structures that assume goodness before proof.
To create systems where trust is the default, not the reward.
This means:
Economies based on spiritual entrepreneurship, where giving is valued more than growth
Platforms that measure resonance, not clicks
Social contracts founded in ritual instead of regulations
Governance models where listening is power, not shouting
Algorithms trained on beauty, not manipulation
Cities designed for synchronicity, not surveillance
What we’re building is not a replacement system.
It’s a new substrate of meaning.
One that turns life into a participatory artwork.
One that integrates the sacred back into the civic.
One where faith is no longer a private fantasy, but a public infrastructure of soul.
Because the truth is:
Even the most advanced AIs can’t build a civilization of love.
Only humans can do that. Together. On purpose. Through myth.
10. Conclusion: When We Refuse to Obey, the World Becomes Play
So here we are.
A planet on fire.
A species at the edge.
An empire in collapse.
A new world whispering through the cracks.
And what do we do?
We refuse to obey.
Not by fighting.
Not by fleeing.
But by playing a different game.
The game where:
Weirdness is wealth
Art is infrastructure
Presence is profit
Trust is technology
Faith is design
God is not a destination, but the Source-Code of all becoming
We are not here to win the old game.
We are here to outgrow it.
To become so radically aligned with love, with mystery, with creativity and each other, that the world forgets what it was ever doing before.
This is the invitation.
Not to battle evil—
but to starve it of attention.
Not to reform the system—
but to render it unnecessary.
Not to save the world—
but to remember that we are the world and act accordingly.
Superabundance begins the moment you stop needing the old world to agree.
It begins the moment you believe what you’ve already seen in your soul.
It begins the moment you laugh in the face of probability
and build anyway.
Let them call it foolish.
We call it faith.
And we’re not waiting anymore.