The Meridian Doctrine (S2.Chapter 35)
What happens when affirmation becomes more intoxicating than action?
Lloyd Dobler gets invited to speak at an exclusive corporate retreat hosted by Meridian Systems, where billionaire futurists, wellness branding, political power, and technological “innovation” all begin to blur into something deeply unsettling.
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The Tao of Lloyd blends fiction, commentary, satire, and real-world events. Some characters, scenes, and narrative elements are fictionalized. The headlines, unfortunately, are real.
Welcome back for chapter 35, I’m Lloyd Dobler, and this is the Tao of Lloyd, where I leaf through the Tao Te Ching one chapter at a time to staple it to the American doomscroll. And I’ll tell you, this podcast is almost a year old now and some weird stuff happens when more people start to listen to the show. Like, recently I was invited to speak at a corporate retreat. And not just any retreat either: I was invited to speak at Meridian Systems.
You know Meridian Systems, right?
Imagine if Elon Musk, Karoline Leavitt, Pete Hegseth, Joe Rogan, and the ghost of Ayn Rand had a ketamine-fueled orgy, and from that exchange of body fluids a corporation was born.
That corporation would be Meridian Systems.Meridian makes systems for ICE.
Systems for the Isreal Defense Forces.
Systems for predictive policing.
Systems for every app that has ever paid a human being four dollars and seven cents to door dash pad Thai in the rain while calling them an “independent partner.”
Their founder, Sam Silas, is one of those billionaire philosopher-kings who thinks democracy was a cute beta test that went on too long.
Their slogan is:“Humanity, optimized.”
What they mean is:
“We found a way to make your soul compatible with quarterly earnings.”
The wanted me to lead one of what I have been calling on the show sorta-kinda meditations.
Why me, you ask? I
’ll get to that later.
Anyway, I said yes. I packed my go bag with a fist full of moleskin notebooks with my biggest ideas, a meaningfully marked up copy the Ram Das book Be Here Now, and a gun.
Now, full disclosure…I’ve only led one of these kinda-sorta guided meditations with a live audience three times.
The first time was in Los Angeles in the summer of 2025.A friend asked me to lead a “healing circle for activists” after one of those ICE protests.
And look, it started beautifully.
People breathing.
Grounding.
Crying in a healthy way.
But then this guy in the back—
sunburned, exhausted, clearly running on two hours of sleep and moral conviction—
raises his hand and goes:
“Quick question, Lloyd FUCKING DOBLER. Why the fuck are we meditating while fascists are literally disappearing people off the streets?”
And honestly?
Fair question.
So I tried to say something calm and Taoist.
Something like:
“Well… sometimes the wisest action is non-forcing. Wu wei. You still yourself so you can recognize the right action when it appears.”
And he goes:
“Buddy, they’re putting people into unmarked vans. Take your wu wei white-boy privilege and chuck a rock at the cops or shut the fuck up.”
So.
Mixed results on the maiden voyage.
The second time was in London.
My friend Guy Masterson signed me up for an open mic night without fully explaining what kind of open mic night it was.
I thought it was philosophy. Can you imagine that? Open mic philosophy?
Turns out it was mix of trauma-informed standup, AI-assisted breakup poetry, and a couple workshopping a jukebox musical about their divorce built entirely around Fleetwood Mac covers, audience participation, and an accordion.
Which, I know, sounds pretty weird but, I donated to their go fund me campaign. Their taking their show to the Edinburgh Fringe. It’s called Go Your Own Ways: A Fleetwood Mac Divorce Musical.
So, I barely starting in on my set, introducing myself to the crowd: I’m Lloyd Dobler.
The teenager from the 1980s film Say Anything? Yes. That Lloyd Dobler.I’m middle-aged now, and due to some glitch in the quantum physics of intellectual property, I’ve been unfrozen from the fictional world of rom-com nostalgia and am now intersecting with your real world.
when a voice rose from the back of the room:“Oi! Kung Fu Kenny Rogers! Get to effin point!”
[pause]
So.Strike two.
And the third time…The third time was for Sam Silas.
At a Meridian Systems corporate retreat.
Before I tell you about that Meridian Systems event, lets dive into the Tao chapter reading.
(Bell chime, soothing music)
Take a long slow, deep breath in through your nose
And let it go like you’re the Rage Against the Machine Karaoke King:
(rage)
Lets try again.
a long slow, deep breath in through your nose
and let it go, like a Donald Trump McDonalds fart in an oval office press conference.
not a care in the world.
This is chapter 35, of the Tao Te Ching:
She who is centered in the Tao
can go where she wishes, without danger.
She perceives the universal harmony,
even amid great pain,
because she has found peace in her heart.Music or the smell of good cooking
may make people stop and enjoy.
But words that point to the Tao
seem monotonous and without flavor.When you look for it, there is nothing to see.
When you listen for it, there is nothing to hear.
When you use it, it is inexhaustible.
And that is chapter 35 of the Tao Te ching.
Okay, so there I am, at Meridan Systems.
Right?
Moleskin notebooks, Ram Das quotes fired up, and a gun resting in the small of my back, tucked into my jeans like I’m Ad Rock in the Beastie Boys Sabotage video.
Behind me, a screen the size of an elementary school says:“ADAPTIVE DISSENT: SPIRITUAL RESILIENCE IN AN AGE OF SYSTEMS CHANGE.”
And Sam Silas is sitting in the front row.Barefoot.
Of course he is barefoot.
Billionaires love being barefoot in places where everyone else has to wear credentials.
He’s smiling at me like a man watching a prototype begin to understand its use case.
And part of me knows I should walk out.Part of me knows I should never have come.
Part of me knows the whole weekend has been a trap designed to answer one question:
Can they absorb me?
And this, my invite to speak there, happened right after he released The Meridian Doctrine.
You remember that manifesto.
The one arguing that democracy had become incompatible with innovation…
that empathy is throttling human progress…
and that the future should probably be governed by a coalition of billionaire bros, longevity addicts, and defense contractors inserting trackers into our temples.
This way they could detect unrest at the level of thought, smooth out the turbulence of human unpredictability, and turn your inner monologue into a subscription service.Resistance Plus.
Only $14.99 a month.
Comes with breathwork, encrypted messaging, and a tote bag made out of recycled plastic bottles that says:
“Disrupt Empire.”
Made in a factory where no one gets bathroom breaks.
Could they co-opt and monetize a podcast hosted by a middle-aged man quoting Lao Tzu in between doomscrolling the collapse of democracy at and sending “alcohol informed” rage tweets to Donald Trump at 1:30 in the morning?
So naturally, they flew me first class to Big Sur, where I was fed green juice laced with designer psychedelics, catastrophic amounts of validation, and the deeply seductive American fantasy that proximity to power might still matter.And there I was, at the end of that weekend retreat, standing in front of a room with a microphone in my hand as an invited speaker to a group of people whose combined wealth equaled that of the bottom 50% of the world’s population.
And I hear two competing voices in my head:One was Lao Tzu, because, you know, that is my thing. I’m a student of the Tao. And Lao Tzu is telling me “Do you have the patience to wait until your mud settles and the water becomes clear? Can you remain unmoving until the right action arises by itself?”
And the other voice…
The other voice in my head is not Malcolm X.
It isn’t Che Guevara.
It is Lin-Manuel Miranda.
Yeah. Suddenly the soundtrack to the musical Hamilton is like, you know, up to eleven in my head:
“I am not throwin away my —shot
I am not throwin away my —shot
Hey you I just like my country
I’m young scrappy and hungry
And I am not throwin away my —shot.”
I’m about to speak, looking out at Jeff Bezos, Mark Zuckerberg, Russell Brand, the entire writers room for Project 2025, and a gaggle of people who have hijacked my country and bankrolled their puppet clown, President Trump, I think: this is my chance.
This is my chance to make some fucking history, you know? And I am not throwin away my —shot.
I mean, if I have the courage of my convictions, if this were the third act of a movie and I were the hero of this story… right?
I could…
I could…
What could I do?
What would you have done?
And then… I don’t know.Something happened.
I made a joke.
I don’t even remember the setup now.
Something about mindfulness apps for drone pilots.
Or maybe:
“Meridian Systems: because nothing says inner peace like facial recognition software at a refugee checkpoint.”Whatever it was…
it landed.
Hard.
And suddenly the room exploded.
Billionaires laughing.
Defense contractors laughing.
Tech founders laughing.
The kind of laughter that says:
You are safe here.
You are one of us now.And for one terrifying moment?
I loved it.
Not the power.
Not the politics.
Not even the access.Just…
the sound.
the laughter.catastrophic amounts of validation.
I forgot about the gun.Forgot about Lin-Manuel Miranda screaming in my head.
Forgot about revolution.
Forgot about history.
Forgot about every fantasy I’d built where I become the guy who finally does the thing that changes everything.Because suddenly I was just a performer again.
A middle-aged theater kid with a microphone in his hand,
making powerful people laugh,
and loving the feeling of being heard.
Which, according to Chapter 35,
might actually be the most dangerous moment in this entire story.
But let me ask you: have you ever chosen affirmation over action?
From the edge of the Empire and the center of the self: this is the Tao of Lloyd. -
Info and tickets:
August 6- 30, 2026 | Edinburgh Festical Fringe.
Boombox romantic, Lloyd Dobler (Say Anything) returns!
Seriously unserious, devoutly disobedient, still refusing to buy, sell or process anything. Now a Zen-punk dissident duct-taping ancient spiritual wisdom to the collapse of the American empire, with deep gratitude and zero credentials, like a sticky note saying: 'Be kind. Rewind. Revolt'. Join Lloyd in a kinda-sorta guided meditation to survive late-stage effin' everything... Like a vinyl record spinning in a microwave of manifest destiny, humming: 'Oh well. Whatever. Never-mind.' Written and performed by Dennis Trainor Jr. (Manifest Destiny's Child), directed by Olivier winner Guy Masterson
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