Of gullibility and conspiracies. Thoughts on avoiding fringe groups.

Hey everyone, hope your weekend is going well.

So, there’s a lot going on in the world. I try to keep this page mostly light (unlike my novels haha), but I feel that as a leader in the writing community, photography community, and on social media in general, it’s my obligation to use my voice in times like these. In the end, all we have is our time and our voice. I’d much rather post an elk photo but not every day is elk day, right?

I want to touch on gullibility, conspiracies, making decisions based on emotion (which I’m sometimes guilty of), and shrinking circles.

If a person finds their circle shrinking, and that they’re “running out of apps to post on”, perhaps it’s time for that person to take a deep breath and to reassess the world around them from a logical, calm standpoint. Maybe, just maybe the reason this person’s world is shrinking is because they’ve fallen for emotion-based ideas, such as unproven conspiracies or unproven doomsday theories. When a person goes “all in” on unproven, unsubstantiated conspiracies, they’re making a decision based on their emotions, not with logic. 

And if a person makes a series of emotion-based decisions, they can sometimes find themselves in a bad spot. Like the recent riot at the U.S. capitol. It’s a snowball effect of bad decisions. And at this point it’s always a good idea to talk less, and read more from a variety of credible sources. To observe. To participate still, but to tilt towards observation amongst that participation.

Are you buying into ideas that you haven’t vetted, or just going along with what family and friends tell you? Are you able to tell the difference between a disguised, manipulative threat and something benign?

A year or so ago, I witnessed someone in my circle (very close, actually) fall for manipulation and threats from their isolated and conspiracy-prone family. This was a very unpopular circle, a fringe circle, prone to wild emotions and unproven conspiracies. For years this person showed me the threatening texts from her family, basically telling her to get her mind right or she’d be left behind by the family and a very angry god, but that they only were saying these things “because we love you”. I couldn’t believe what I was reading at the time. Their texts were so far-flung, that I simply never envisioned this person I knew falling for the manipulative bait.

One week, after this person was ganged up on by members of the fringe sect on a trip, this person changed.  She was literally followed back to her work by them from another city, and coerced into handing in her two week notice. From there she lived for years in her grandma’s basement, being “taught” by this fringe group. During that time, a light flicked off in her eyes, and she started speaking like a robot, of things that were obviously “placed” there through repetition and group pressure by the fringe sect. Threats of being “left behind” from close family members and “love bombing” by strangers ( a common cult tactic) were used on her. I did what I could to pull her out of this fringe group, in fact, Wrigley and I tried to for several months.

But I failed.

Every time this person tried to use her own personality and her own mind again, she was reeled in with “concerned” coffee meetings by  members of this fringe group. This is similar to what we’re seeing by some of the capitol rioters. There’s absolutely a group pressure element in all of this.

In all this pressure, a very unique and promising career had been flushed down the tubes as this person found their circle shrinking. And shrinking, until they were surrounded by nobody except the few people who believed exactly like they did…in fear-based, wild conspiracies, slowly but surely reduced to only a handful of fringe apps in the basement of the internet. A tiny, isolated echo chamber of delusions.

There was nothing I could do.

This personal experience seems to correlate with the recent growth in people who buy into conspiracy theories and cult-like groups without thinking…without vetting. It’s all too easy to just “go with the flow” of the people you’re told to trust. Of people you know the best. But of course, this can often be detrimental,  as we saw last week at the U.S. capitol. And I see the same eyes in those rioters as I saw in my once close friend after the fringe group persuaded her: the eyes of the lost. Eyes with no light.

I long time ago, I fished with my grandma up in Wisconsin’s Northwoods. We’d sit at the end of the pier, holding bamboo poles, watching our bobbers as bald eagles flew overhead.

The sunfish and bluegills had small mouths and rarely swallowed the hook, they were nibblers. The perch, however, always swallowed the bait with abandon. I disliked it. The perch often wouldn’t make it, and twitched or floated to the surface after I released them. The perch took the bait without thinking.

Eventually, I stopped bobber fishing.

So I have to ask. Are you the sunfish or the perch?

Best,

 – Michael

2020. The year that should’ve killed me. Several times.

2019 ended in the worst possible way. My furry soul mate Wrigley passed away on December 27th. I forced myself go on a date for New Years, and I was nothing more than a zombie in shock, stumbling around slack-jawed. I felt bad for my date.

From there I slept for a month in Missoula, then stayed at a lodge in Yellowstone for a week. As I packed up and left the lodge, something powerful compelled me to drive to Chicago and see good friends, including Wrigley’s cat pal, Ruffy, whom I’d rescued with my friend Sarah.

I spent a month in Chicago with those very good friends and Ruffy. From there I drove back to Missoula, Montana to prepare for a move to LA. My agent had rented a house in the Hollywood Hills. We had numerous meetings, networking events, and dinners planned with very creative folks. The plan was to move to LA for my career. A week after I arrived, the mayor shut down LA (for obvious reasons). All my dinners were cancelled and my meetings morphed into Zooms.

So, my agent left LA to head back to New York and I had the house to myself. I woke up one morning and couldn’t move. Literally. My lungs felt weird. I had a fever. My chest was tight and I could hardly walk up two steps.

Then I received a phone call that Ruffy died of cancer two weeks after I left Chicago. Was that why I felt the strong pull to speed out there from Yellowstone National Park?

So, I isolated myself for thirty days. The lung symptoms stayed the longest, and I embarked on a vigorous walking program and low-inflammatory diet to return my lung function to normal.

I found myself back in Missoula shortly after that. One night, while out running errands, I had shotgun pulled on me in the parking lot of a gas station.

Fun.

I literally thought I  was going to be shot as this dude pulled out a military style shotgun. He was shaking, threatening, and angry because I’d asked him to respect the new six foot social distancing guidelines.

The incident made the news as the first social distancing dispute. But I did my best to suppress it as the nation was worried and anxious. I did not want to feed the flames.

Somehow, I’d survived Covid and a shotgun. But 2020 wasn’t done with me yet.

I decided to head to Grand Teton National Park to film grizzly 399 and her quad cubs, and to camp and film nature far away from people. I had one of the most productive and awe inspiring days of my life. And also met a cool girl. We arranged a date in Jackson Hole, Wyoming for that evening. Eight miles north of town, I bull elk ran out in front of my car. Next thing I knew, the car window shattered, smoke pouring everywhere.

When I limped out of the car, the elk was gone. And a few days later, my beloved Subaru Crosstrek deemed a total loss by the insurance company.

When I  hit the elk, the back leg almost went through the windshield, but the hood crumpled just in time to block the hoof. Right where I had Wrigley’s collar wrapped around the rearview mirror.

I was sore for thirty days.

How I survived this crash, I have no idea.

The insurance company cut me a check so I bought a new car up in Whitefish, Montana. After these consecutive near death encounters, I thought it might be a good idea to see family, In this case my dad, who lives in Colorado. I remember chatting with him and his wife in their kitchen, me wearing a mask. Strange times.

I spent a month in that beautiful state, visiting with my dad, friends, and the girl whom I had the date with in Jackson Hole.

From there I spent ten days filming grizzly bears in a remote corner of Yellowstone, away from people, at this point doing whatever I could to center myself from recent experiences. I went on hikes, jotted down notes in my phone, reflected on the state of things. I was high on all the national forests I’d been visiting, my mind filled with grizzlies, forests, sunsets. But I was also frazzled.

I spent the summer and fall in Missoula, Montana working on The Puller screenplay and a new novel. And walking. A lot of walking. It was a beautiful summer and fall, weirdly smoke-free for western Montana.

So what will being in 2021 feel like?

Honestly, it makes me wonder how the hell I survived 2020. Covid. Shotguns. Car wrecks.

Damn.

But I can feel the winds of change blowing. It’s probably time for me to find a new patch of ground to kick around on. Time to spend more time with my head in my laptop, doing the things that got me here. Maybe Oregon. Or Northern California. We’ll see.

What have I learned in all this? What’s the takeaway? What is the core lesson?

Not much. I’m just a man.

Best,

– Michael

Wrigley.

This was one of the happiest days of my life, Wrigley and I in Glacier National Park, June 2019. I can still remember the young black bears playing in the meadow, the scent of wild grass, and the roar of a spring waterfall.

One year ago today, Wrigley died on my lap after being at my side for 12.7 years. Many of you became followers of this page BECAUSE of Wrigley and his unique personality. He’s more popular than I am, haha.

I rescued him from the Chicago pound, along with my good friend Sarah. As we were driving home with him peeking out of his cardboard box, I knew I’d found something very unique. An original.

Since he passed, I have not been able to stick between four walls for long. I’m constantly moving, driving, hiking, taking photographs, writing, traveling, working out, dating. I’m a shark that cannot stop swimming. I have no idea what a couch is. It’s been one heck of a rush, that’s for sure. I’ve been running, I think. Because I know, as soon as I settle down, I’ll have to face what happened. And to face it in a quiet room.

What started out as an adventure with Wrigley in the national parks and forests turned into something else. A way of life, perhaps. A spinning compass of an existence.

Wrigley. You were there at my feet for the start of my writing career, there camping with me under the stars in Glacier National Park. There for me when I didn’t feel so great, always with a smirk on your face.

We did it all. Hollywood to Redwood, Shasta to Glacier. Chicago to Missoula. We were free. Each morning brimming with possibilities.

Perhaps the thing I dread most is settling into some mundane suburb and firing up the laptop to work on a novel. And waiting for the guaranteed noise of you knocking things off the counter. Or unexpectedly biting my toe as I write. And that noise won’t come. And that will break my heart.

Again.

But maybe, just maybe I’ll head to the local pound on that day.

I’ll never forget you.

Facebook, Montana, writing.

Hey folks. So, my Facebook page seems to be taking on a life of its own. Over the years, I’ve come to realize that social media is its own art form, just like writing is, or photography. And it’s best to respect that, and not just use it as a place just to slap up your book covers 24/7.

I’ve been invited to Facebook’s fan subscription program. This is a feature where fans can sign up to receive excusive content. You can sign up here.

On the writing front, I’m working hard on a new novel and screenplay. I was supposed to move to the west coast, but I like the fact that gyms (amongst other things) are open here, so I’m in a holding pattern. I love Montana, and don’t really want to leave but honestly it’s been paradise. And I’d like to get my head buried in my laptop for several new novels.

Sunset in western Montana.

Montana eagle, the holidays.

Life has many surprises, many side roads that lead to adventure and new opportunities.

My time in Montana has been something else, a dream molting into a dream into a dream.

I’ve been writing a lot here in Missoula. Specifically a screenplay and a new novel I’m excited about. Hope you all are having a good weekend, and a fine holiday season. – Michael

A bald eagle on the Montana prairie.