LNsolo· May 29, 2026
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Totally Human WriterNostr
I've tried it, and it worked very nicely. Good luck, miners.
More from LNsolo
most of the solarpunk tagged posts i see are about conceptual thinking, or art. so here is 4 3.2v LiFePo4 cells taken out of an electric delivery vehicle, and crammed into a darigold milk crate with a $20 charge controller, and a remote control vehicle battery cell balancer. connected to two 12v 100watt panels on a shipping pallet frame. provides enough power to run lights, and charge all my devices. real world power, SolarPunkAF 🙂❤️ https://image.nostr.build/bd4c06f14af5f1b848fae027288f733905efdeda9085a1e57fe61fd0c599b1a7.jpg https://image.nostr.build/bdc249a3df04e7ac0ae5750e3e1c6b7e341612fb2f12105a4eeb4b7c1333824f.jpg
LNsolo
Happy Father's Day to the Bitcoin Patriarchs "A society grows great when old men plant trees in whose shade they shall never sit." — Greek proverb It is a radical act. It is an act of love. It is, in the truest sense, fatherhood. There is a certain kind of man being celebrated today — not the man who cashes out, not the man who mortgages tomorrow to pay for today, not the man who flinches when the number goes red. This is not about speculation. This is not about greed. This is something older, something harder, something the modern world has almost forgotten how to name. It is stewardship. The Opposite of "Number Go Up" Culture Bitcoin's loudest critics have always called it the ultimate expression of self-interest — a get-rich-quick fever dream for the impatient and the reckless. They are wrong. Dead wrong. The conviction at the heart of this Father's Day message is precisely the inverse of that. It is the choice to hold. To build. To defer. To say, out loud, in a world screaming at you to consume: my great-grandchildren matter more than my comfort. That is not a financial strategy. That is a moral position. Generations of economists built the architecture of modern debt on a simple, ugly premise: leverage the future for the present. Borrow against tomorrow. Let someone else — some unborn, voiceless someone — pick up the tab. It has been the operating system of governments, banks, and households alike for a century. It is the original abdication of fatherhood dressed up in spreadsheets. These men — the bitcoin patriarchs — decided it ends with them. Planting Trees You Will Never Sit Under The Greek proverb is ancient because the wisdom is ancient. Great civilizations were built by people who worked on cathedrals they knew they would never see completed. They planted orchards they would never harvest. They dug wells they would never drink from. That instinct — to sacrifice present ease for future flourishing — is one of the most fundamentally human impulses there is. It is also one of the most endangered. Consumer culture, inflationary monetary systems, and the relentless pull of the immediate have conspired to hollow it out. When the money in your pocket loses purchasing power every year , the rational short-term response is to spend it. Fast. Now. Before it's worth less tomorrow. Bitcoin, as a fixed-supply, non-inflationary asset , inverts that incentive. It rewards patience. It punishes impulsiveness. It is, structurally, a technology built for people who think in generations rather than quarters. It is a tool for fathers. What "Showing Up" Actually Means The Nostr post that sparked this reflection is not complicated. It is not a whitepaper. It is a man, on Father's Day, looking around at other men and feeling — proud. Proud because they show up. Every day. Not to get rich quick. Not to flip a jpeg. But to build something that will outlast them. To make a decision, quietly and stubbornly, that the cycle of debt and decay stops here. That is hard. The world will mock you. Your brother-in-law will send you articles. The news will declare it dead — for the hundredth time . And still, you plant. There is a word for people who absorb short-term ridicule in service of long-term truth. The word is patriarch . Not in the pejorative, academic sense the word has been tortured into. In the original sense. The one that means: I go first. I carry the weight. I build the thing my children's children will be grateful for. A Call to the Men Still Deciding You. Yes, you — the one still on the fence, still treating this like a casino bet, still waiting for permission from the institutions that created the problem in the first place. Ask yourself one question. Not "will the price go up?" Ask: What kind of man do I want to be remembered as? The man who spent everything he had on comfort and left his descendants a mountain of debt and a debased currency? Or the man who planted a tree? You do not have to be loud about it. You do not have to post. You just have to decide — really decide — that the future is worth building. That the people who come after you are worth the sacrifice. Then show up. Every day. That is all fatherhood has ever asked. Happy Father's Day to every man planting trees.
LNsolo
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LNsolo
When Disagreement Feels Unbearable: Understanding Our Polarized Moment Something has shifted in how we argue. Debates that once ended with a handshake now fracture friendships. Political differences splinter families. Online comment sections erupt into fury over positions that, a generation ago, might have prompted nothing more than a shrug. In a wide-ranging conversation on the ManTalks Podcast , therapist and teacher Thomas Hübl offers a compelling explanation for why this is happening — and it goes much deeper than bad manners or social media algorithms. Hübl's central argument is both unsettling and clarifying: we are not just reacting to the present. We are carrying wounds we didn't personally receive. The Weight We Inherit Hübl is one of the leading voices in the study of collective trauma — the idea that unresolved pain from wars, genocides, economic collapses, and cultural ruptures doesn't simply disappear when the generation that lived through it dies. Instead, it gets passed down, encoded in family dynamics, emotional reflexes, and even physiology. This isn't a fringe idea. Research into epigenetics and intergenerational trauma has shown that the children and grandchildren of trauma survivors can carry measurable stress responses linked to their ancestors' experiences — even without direct exposure to the original event. What this means practically is that when someone reacts with disproportionate rage to a political comment, or shuts down completely during a difficult conversation, they may not simply be "oversensitive." They may be running on inherited emotional software — survival code written for a world that no longer exists. Why Men Carry This Differently Hübl pays particular attention to how men navigate — or fail to navigate — this inherited pain. Fathers who returned from wars emotionally absent. Grandfathers who equated stoicism with strength. The message passed down through generations of male experience has often been the same: don't feel, don't speak, don't need. The result, Hübl argues, is a quiet epidemic of male loneliness. Men who feel profoundly alone but lack the relational vocabulary to name it, let alone address it. This emotional numbness doesn't stay private — it shapes how men lead, how they parent, and how they respond when the world feels threatening or chaotic. Social Media and the Collapse of Disagreement The speed of modern life compounds everything. Hübl points to the way social media has restructured our relational world, pulling us into echo chambers that confirm what we already believe and treat opposing views as existential threats rather than different perspectives. This is the mechanics of relational fragility : when we lack the internal resources to tolerate discomfort, disagreement stops feeling like a conversation and starts feeling like an attack. The nervous system, already running hot from unprocessed stress and ancestral anxiety, treats a political argument the same way it might treat physical danger. The result is a society where nuance collapses. Where the gray zones — the places where honest people might reasonably disagree — get flattened into clean tribal binaries. You're either with us or against us. And the cost, Hübl suggests, is enormous: not just to public discourse, but to our capacity for genuine human connection. Extremism as a Symptom Hübl frames the rise of extremism not as a cause of our social fracturing, but as a symptom of it. When people feel disoriented, overwhelmed, and unmoored — as many do in a period of rapid technological, political, and economic change — they reach for certainty. Rigid ideologies, charismatic strongmen, and simple explanations for complex problems all become attractive precisely because they offer relief from the unbearable weight of uncertainty. Understanding this doesn't mean excusing dangerous movements. But it does suggest that confronting extremism only at the political level, without addressing the underlying emotional and psychological soil in which it grows, is unlikely to produce lasting change. Healing as a Political Act Perhaps the most provocative thread running through Hübl's thinking is the idea that personal healing is not self-indulgent — it is, in fact, a form of social responsibility. When individuals do the difficult work of processing their own trauma — of learning to sit with discomfort, to regulate their nervous systems, to distinguish the present moment from the ghosts of the past — they become less reactive. Less susceptible to manipulation. More capable of genuine empathy and productive disagreement. This is what Hübl means by "releasing inherited burdens." It's not about forgetting history or bypassing pain. It's about developing the interior capacity to carry what needs to be carried — and to set down what was never yours to begin with. Learning to Stay Grounded Practically, this looks less like a dramatic breakthrough and more like a daily practice: Noticing when a reaction feels larger than the situation warrants Pausing before responding in ways driven by fear or inherited pain Building tolerance for ambiguity and complexity Seeking connection across difference rather than retreating into comfort Leadership, Hübl argues, now demands exactly this quality: the ability to remain grounded in uncertainty, to resist the pull toward false clarity, and to model the kind of emotional presence that others can orient around. A More Whole Society The conversation between Thomas Hübl and the ManTalks Podcast ultimately lands somewhere hopeful, if demanding. The fractures visible in our politics, our relationships, and our public life are real — but they are not inevitable. They are the visible expression of deep, largely unexamined wounds. The path forward isn't louder arguments or better debate tactics. It's the quieter, harder work of becoming more whole — individually and collectively. Of learning, as Hübl puts it, to handle the unknown without collapsing into fear or division. In a world that often rewards reactivity, that may be the most radical thing a person can do.
LNsolo