Listening to the wind

Flying in the very face of spectacular, breath-taking, unimaginable-if-you-aren't-in-it, triple whammy catastrophe, the Wetiko-infected push for more guaranteed disaster.  What does this say?  Have they not by now read any news, seen a TV, been party to a press conference, spoken with or heard another suit hand-wringing over le conversation du jour?  Not at all, they are busy showing off their spoils, ordering around the staff, meeting heart attack inducing deadlines por nada, slamming china coffee cups on the inlaid ceramic tile imported sideways from East Asia, I don't care what it costs dammit, they fail to notice when the radiation level creeps between the sheets.  That multiples of thousands are already dead or dying, dispossessed and locked into sure contamination, or is that kind of utter chaos just another day in the life?   It makes you want to cry. I remember during my sojourn in the desert, the Vets, the cowboy bikers, world weary and tired of it all, I was the person who took them to their VA appointments and waited until we could get out of dodge, back to Elephant Rock which had a natural trunk you climbed and sat up high listening to the wind.  When you are on Elephant Rock, there are no questions, silent knowings whisper about your body and blow across your face.  Most of these gentlemen were very ill from existing too long downwind the waste dump and from exposure to agent orange.  Some were cured (that means not healed) only to get worse.  Austin passed.  It was not a happy ending.  I recall him showing me a strange growth coming from his calf on which a four inch long tube of flesh had grown out like an unnecessary appendage.  We couldn't figure it out and yet, during his VA visit, they removed it in the examining room avoiding even a cursory explanation of what it was or WHY it happened, but everybody knew anyway.  It wasn't long afterward Austin went to Heaven.  Once the desert predators heard he was ailing, they were all over him like feeding vultures.  He felt he had no options and simply caved.

Is there any difference between catastrophic natural disaster and HAARP disaster?  Is there any difference between anthropogenic climate chaos and natural changes within a fluid Universe?  No, the outcome is the same, but there was once a difference, we had time then, time to change the course, set sail for calmer seas, pursue directions that brought joy to ourselves by bringing joy to others.  And now?  In stark contrast to what we could have been, we are silenced before the Great Tsunami of Evil.  Perhaps more than care to be known as evil enthusiasts actually follow evil doings the way Octomom followed Brangelina.  They never see themselves in that light.  They instead see themselves as interested patriots, active or inactive, using talking points interspersed with half-truths formulated as they finished the morning commute in their restored Porsche 911, entered the glass and steel monolith and huffed it over to the post, sipping Latte.  But for the love people, this isn't their cup of tea at all.  Nothing wrong with Latte, what is wrong is the direction that is being pursued only perpetuates more and worse evil.  At this moment in real time, evil has seemingly broken itself like dropped Limoges, each shard growing arms and legs in order to continue adding insult to injury, once, twice, three times is never enough no matter how ghastly the items on the evil checklist appear.  I try to remember what we hear and see is multiplied by the increasing populations everywhere holding remotes to a thousand channels of nonsense. thus nonsense increases in tandem.  This is heh, a special kind of growth.

Its never them that take the hit, you"ll notice.  Its the people, the little people, many of them love people and love-people-in-training. The poor people just hanging laundry or riding a bike to collect wood for heat, children doing what children do, fishermen, farmers, the uncelebrated ones, the ignored, are the ones deemed expendable.  They have long been exploited in unimaginably gruesome fashion, most of which is unknown and through bubble aftermath which you might notice qualifies as a prolonged state of shock, and possess nothing of worth, just ask the homeless what happened that ruined everything for the remainder of their time on Earth.  What is more loss when you already lost everything and there are no means of ever getting it back?   For that matter, what is loss when you've been brought to your knees in acknowledgment of the existence of a superior man because you hurt so bad there is no other way to make it stop, and it didn't really stop, it just costumed itself as TBTF.  You have to wonder sometimes, if the secret societies have small scale plug-in Ferris Wheel desk accessories complimenting the leather armchairs complimenting finely polished rotating globes.  "Get Hillbilly on the phone sweetheart." Maybe this is so, maybe it is not, but the idea would not have come up if there were not some reason to think ...  High on Elephant Rock one accepts the state of all of humanity, the good, the evil are just life's infinite variety of vegetation.  Warning: you may go there in a typical everyday state of shock, but you will leave in love.

Who among us really knows what will happen, anywhere, anytime?  Apparently nobody  knows despite a handful of smug reports of warnings given which were apparently not actually transmitted to anyone not invested in catastrophe before whatever event occurs?  Now let's go back in time for a minute and recall the bodies floating in flood waters like unleashed rivers of blood streaming through New Orleans.  And the towers, or AIDS, yes it goes way back, there were always things happening somewhere on the planet and we became inured as if we were purified from conception merely by our nationality.   Well, not completely inured, it was a surreal confusion and no amount of tranquilizing  pronouncements made it right.  To my Father's credit, when I was freaking out after reading Sophie's Choice, he looked me in the eye and said "You think that was something, you should see what we did to the Indians", meaning Native Americans. 

In catastrophe, there are always earnest, well intentioned inventors desirous of fame and fortune with their solutions.  One of them managed to secure an interview on CNN yesterday with a Tsunami Ark.  His  ark holds (only) 50 to 70 people he says, but they are nothing more than floating orange capsules tethered to cement supposedly able to withstand tsunami force. Can you see it?  Its perfect, its time has come!  It is yet another layer of complexity gone wild to sustain the fantasy.  Right away you can punch a tsunami of holes in the plan, principally just how long and longer will these tethers become as the wave heights increase and what if these tethers are too short and for cryin' out loud, what tether can withstand the most recent tsunami doing drive-bys at every port around the shores of the Ring of Fire?  While we're on the subject, let us also mention the immoral developers who manage to arrange zoning approval to create entire towns which quickly grow into overpopulated cities on stilts to better retain a minuscule slice of ocean view which as an aside also determines property taxes.  What happened to preplanning?  If a tsunami aimed itself at Malibu or Montalk, there would be no more tinseltown players and no more beachfront architectural amusements regardless of how many orange arks dotted the sands.  Especially when the warnings were half-truths and speculations.  There is a weird part of human nature that gets lost in happy memories of better days when faced with the real possibility of immediate annihilation. That weird part is never taken into consideration because we are expected to snap to attention instantly at the ear-shattering blaring trumpets of the Schmooz.  Everybody Listen Up!  Shake, tremble and speculate!  You can always tell when someone is fear mongering because they tell you so up front, "Now, I'm not fear mongering, but ..."

Bella's little girls, 15 minutes into the world

Watching are Scarlett's twins, Arnie and Adele at two weeks

Stella working on a treat

As all was becoming a nightmare of Karmic return while in mourning for the Japanese villagers who in these crazy days cannot possibly look forward to a brighter day, I took Bernie out as usual and noticed Scarlett the Ewe, recent new mom, gathering her lambs about her in a rather frantic manner.  I rushed to see Bella, her sister, standing over two tiny wet charming puppy-size blobs of black.  Two females this time.  It was helpful I'd seen Scarlett's twins developing so quickly this week so I knew whomever was not able to stand up yet would be soon running and getting into everything that attracts their attention.  I spent more time again with Amos, the father, the Ram, as always, because I know as a brother being, he wanted to help, grazers are genetically designed that way, although he was kept in his penthouse to prevent backbreeding.  And of course, with Stella, the Mustang Princess, evermore lovely in mist and fog, glowing as her winter fur is brushed to a shine and her mane resembles Lauren Hutton's messy golden highlights... They all know me very well and are insatiably curious about my person-ness.  Not a single thought about anything else other than being witness in the magnificence of birth including amplified love and compassion for all species was the Divine antidote to whatever else is going on anywhere.