“Composting the Bureaucrats”: A Spiritual Reckoning with the Machinery of Control
I used to believe that truth had a home in the systems we built.
That laws were upheld with integrity. That courts discerned wisely. That doctors, lawyers, judges—even when flawed—ultimately served the good. I did not know the term “deep state.” I had no need for such language. I was not a conspiracy theorist. I lived in the world as it was given to me, trusting that if something broke, there were hands that would repair it.
And then I was swallowed whole by the system that claims to heal but does not. That claims to protect but punishes. That claims to uphold justice while shielding itself from the light.
It began with an illegal civil commitment—a soul theft and the stomping of all procedural pieces that ensure due process. What was taken from me was not just liberty, but dignity, voice, sacred agency, and a lifetime of good living. These are the falsehoods woven into law, with the bureaucrats knowing full well that they will be protected—by immunity, by silence, and by systemic self-protection. They ensure that restitution is stalled, truth is buried, and a gag is placed over those being railroaded and harmed.
What followed was a long, dark descent into a legal charade, where those with power collude behind closed doors. Judges meet privately with addicted attorneys and report nothing. Court clerks write “off the record” to influence outcomes. And most damning of all—the courts, more often than not, side with the most powerful player, even when the law is broken and ethical lines are crossed. Especially if it affects the guild. Psychiatrists, too, speak with assumed authority, their words given weight even when divorced from truth. And good lawyers—those who dare to speak up—are sanctioned, threatened, or silenced.
Because to win at all costs is the game. And we the people hold the short end of that stick. And we are paying for it.
We pay—emotionally, spiritually, financially. We pay out of pocket to hire attorneys to protect our rights after they’ve been decimated, while our tax dollars fund entire battalions of government lawyers who defend the very people and institutions that stole our lives, our voices, and our wealth.
In all instances, the scales of so-called justice are in complete and utter imbalance.
And what I came to see is this: the “deep state” is not just some federal monolith. It is here, in your backyard, hidden in plain sight—not operating as conspiracy, but as normalized betrayal. As standard practice. As the carefully guarded mechanisms of a machine that survives by consuming the lives it was supposed to serve.
The spiritual cost of this is immeasurable. Because systems like this are not just corrupt—they are desecrated.
They forget the soul. They forget the sacred. They forget that each human being is not a case file or liability—but a living flame of divine essence, meant to be witnessed, heard, and honored.
Recently, I visited Joel Salatin’s regenerative farm, a place where truth is felt in the ground, in the rhythms of compost and care. And there he was—wearing a sweatshirt (and I also bought one from his farm store) that said it all: “Compost the Bureaucrats.” He said it with a smile and the steady clarity of someone who has seen the rot and knows the cure. I nodded, because I knew it too.
Yes. Let it all return to the earth. Let the decay of dishonest systems be broken down. Let what no longer serves life be transmuted.
Because that’s what composting is, isn’t it?
A sacred returning. A transformation of what was into what may yet be.
So let this be our spiritual call: Compost the systems built on deceit. Compost the bureaucracies that devour truth. Compost the egos that feed on control.
And may something new rise from the soil. Something rooted in justice. In soul. In sacred remembrance. Because we are not here to uphold the machinery of oppression. We are here to remember who we are. And to call forth the world that honors it.