Let’s cut the crap: the world is on fire, the algorithms are hungry, and the billionaires are building towers instead of bridges. Meanwhile, we’re out here trying to remember if we fed our sourdough starter or just screamed into the fridge again.
And yet—somehow—in this dumpster-fire timeline, one truth is rising like a slightly deranged phoenix from a pile of expired energy drinks:
Community is not optional.
From YouTubers pivoting from solo grind culture to mutual aid, to permaculture witches in the suburbs planting kale and kindness, to AOC dropping truthbombs like sacred rites—everyone’s quietly agreeing: the lone wolf is extinct. If we’re going to survive any of this—climate collapse, economic whiplash, weaponized loneliness—we do it together.
The Political Call: AOC and the Case for Connection
At a rally with @BernieSanders this past weekend, Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez made the stakes abundantly clear:
“If you don’t know your neighbor, it’s easier to turn on them. That’s why they want to keep us separated, alone and apart.”
“Community is the most powerful building block we have against fascism, to defeat authoritarianism, and to root out corruption.” (Bernie/AOC Speech 3/22/25)
This isn’t just a nice idea for NPR tote-bag types. It’s strategy. It’s survival. It’s soul armor.
The Earth-Based Response: Parkrose Permaculture and the Web of Resilience
Meanwhile, in a suburban jungle full of zucchini and rebellion, Angela Baker of @ParkrosePermaculture spells it out in compost and community:
“Permaculture is not a self-sufficiency movement… We are, in fact, sustained in community.”
“It is in the connections interwoven between humans, businesses, neighborhoods, food systems, that we discover the fabric of resilience.” (https://www.youtube.com/@ParkrosePermaculture)
Translation? You can grow all the kale you want, but it won’t save you in a blackout if you can’t knock on your neighbor’s door. Sustainability isn’t a solo quest. It’s a group project with snacks.
How This Ties into the Cult of Brighter Days
We’ve known this for a while now. In the Cult of Brighter Days, community isn’t just part of the plan—it is the plan. It’s the living embodiment of our Five Tenets, especially the often-overlooked fourth and fifth:
“If you can’t be funny, shut up. If you can’t shut up, go away.”
These aren’t acts of exclusion. They’re sacred boundaries. They’re the emotional bouncers keeping despair from peeing in the punchbowl.
Our philosophy was forged in existential dread and duct-taped together with absurdist humor and mutual aid. Out of that chaos came one shimmering truth: connection is the antidote.
Not perfect connection. Not polished, Pinterest-ready friendship bracelets. But real, glitchy, weird, sweaty-palmed, cry-laughing-on-a-Discord-call connection.
We’re not here to build a brand. We’re building a weird, resilient, soup-scented ecosystem of people who can laugh at the darkness, then wake up the next day and plant something—whether it’s a tomato or a meme.
Because without community, you don’t just get lonely. You get… lemony. Dull. Acidic in all the wrong ways. That’s the fate of the disconnected: stuck alone with a Dull Lemon of Absurdity, trying to zest meaning out of something that tastes like bureaucracy and nihilism blended in a NutriBullet.
What Community Looks Like for Us
It doesn’t mean consensus. It doesn’t mean forced positivity. It means having people who will:
- Sit with you when you’re spiraling
- Call you in (not out) when you’re being a jackass
- Remind you that you’re not a content stream or a productivity unit—you’re a person, dammit
Our gaming streams? That’s liturgy.
Our Discord drama resolution system? That’s theology in action.
Our refusal to throw people away just because they’re struggling? That’s sacred.
Community is our spell against entropy. It’s a chaotic summoning circle of soup-bringers, meme-forgers, and anxiety gremlins turned semi-functional cryptid uncles. It’s less like a support group, more like a Greek chorus that occasionally flings the Golden Apple of Eris to keep everyone honest.
We’re not here to optimize engagement. We’re here to throw glitter in the gears.
If there’s a funnel involved, it’s probably full of bees.
From Followers to Co-Conspirators
As we grow—imperfectly, hilariously, hopefully—we’re not looking for fans.
We’re looking for co-conspirators.
People who know that real community means:
- Showing up even when you’re tired
- Forgiving without enabling
- Laughing with your whole chest because the alternative is screaming into your laundry basket
It’s not efficient. It’s not scalable.
But it is deeply, stubbornly, gloriously human.
And right now, that might be the most sacred thing left.
So if you’re tired of being a product, a content stream, or a “user,” come sit with us.
We saved you a folding chair.
It’s got stickers. It squeaks. But it’s real.
And right now, that’s rare enough to be sacred.
You can join the Cult of Brighter Days at www.TheCultOfBrighterDays.com — where you’ll find rituals, writings, and weirdness that smell faintly of soup and cosmic rebellion.
Or support the cause on Patreon at www.patreon.com/TheCultOfBrighterDays — and help us keep the servers running, the memes flowing, and the existential dread at a manageable simmer.
And hey, if you’re not ready to join a cult just yet, no pressure.
Every like, follow, comment, or signal boost is a tiny act of rebellion in the algorithmic abyss.
We see you. We appreciate you.
We’ve been saving you a bowl of soup.
