"we-just-wanna-feel-good"

There was a film a while back making the rounds of the pay networks, rated for mature audiences called Monsters Ball.  You may have seen it.  There is a line within the dialogue that comes to mind more often than usual for typically memorable film quotes, "I-just-wanna-feel-good." If you've seen the film, you know Lucretia (Halle Berry); needs to feel good, due to the fact she feels so bad and has been feeling irrecoverably bad for a long time and for very good reasons. She's lost her husband to prison execution, her home is foreclosed, one follows the other, right, her obese son a victim of hit and run, her only employment a two-week waitressing gig for someone else on vacation.

The truth in that line is everybody's truth, like it or not, but feeling good is definitely not in the cards for little people without going to extremes to avoid all the unnatural and complex detours into bureaucratic cul de sacs involved with surviving intact the nightmare our once-normal, once-routine lifestyles have now become.  Monsters Ball and Inception are but two recent examples, Inception being the portrait of a life lived in layers of dreams, anchored by a small brass top, once spun,  places the spinner into yet another dream, all of which are eventually supposed to mean something, but doesn't mean anything more than a digitized burp depicting the little peoples' everyday experience in the maze our lives have unwittingly entered.  Its a jungle out there.  A minefield.  You are advised to tread cautiously and read between the lines.  Supposedly fictional, these screenplays are written by someone.  To write well, the experience must ring true.  Fake, we are already too familiar with, you know it can't pass for truth on any level, but authentic writing requires the author to have walked in the shoes of his storyline on some level close to home.  Fiction, for the most part, is not exactly fictional if its in any manner worthy of your time.

The oxymorons of these days leave us speechless.  When you pause to examine your own behavior, there are missing in-betweens, those spaces where we breathe evenly, carry out routine tasks, go from one activity to the next seamlessly.  Instead, what is taking place is a halting awareness of the swinging pendulum, good to bad, bad to good, where life unfolds as sweetly as it will, or cruelly as it does.  We stand at the gates peering into the Zombie Food Court during its expanding construction program, a timeless wonder, a partnership of fundie icons engaging the wariest of travelers with Disney-Bellagio hallucinations in the interior PCP circular stair crawl to the stars.  Towering above them, we see down, lower and deeper into the  darkness of the void,  before jerking back on a bungee just in time, feet landing in dirt, weeds show clawing at the edges of the cliff overhanging the bubbling deep fry.  It is strange, this SCOTUS ruling, because if you go outdoors naked, you will certainly be hauled off by enforcement to the big house where you will be lawfully stripped-searched.  In this fashion, your nakedness would make it less physically and vocally exerting for the enforcement force to perform their in-house tasks.  How easy is it anyway to strip an already naked human being?  Have no doubt, such a case will likely be argued soon enough.  And have positively, absolutely, an entire mountain range of probability that however the case comes to the forefront, you will be strikingly horrified, alarmed all over again and repulsed at the stunning twists and turns presented in the ruling.  Ah, but this is everyday life in its twenty-first century normal.  A nonstop Ken Kesey bus as bullet train to destinations no one has ever been before or returned from. 

We've been dealing with a rocky relationship from the start, exacerbated with too much outside input and too little interpersonal communication.  Chart it if you like, you'll see the pattern easily.  Neither the North nor the South Poles know what the other feels, wants, desires, is drawn towards, dislikes, loathes, does with their time elsewhere, or acknowledges any naturally human traits that make up the integrity of the individual having given up on giving a damn long ago.  Both do what they wish, compassion is a lie, guilt omnipresent, existing day after day, year after year under  pressure to perform positively inside the chill winds of ambient abuse, all involved resolute in their correctness.  Sound familiar?

It appears unlikely we have the slightest control over what is taking place on the ground.  According to Mick's new essay, we do however have command over the universe in that our direct connection to the outcomes lie within each soul making up the body of the species known to us as homo sapien.  In other words, to quell planetary chaos, our job is simple, while from the perspective of the vain individual, impossible to accomplish.  To escape the repeating cycle of the little man forever locked into ancient patterns of self-annihilation writ small, then writ larger becoming even smaller, again reproducing himself as larger on some false ideal of his significance within the total scheme, we only need recall these words: Come Together.  Anything short of One Love insures continuance of ignorance resulting in guaranteed extinction and the dissolution of our planet into space dust ...  which could happen at any time, suddenly or gradually.  Were the living species warned the Pleistocene would wash over soils and habitats?  Of course, there were signs just as the signs are present today.  I don't find it frightening at all, its rather beautiful and predestined, freeing in fact, to be a part of the Universe completely unrelated to beginnings and endings beyond the indulgent, noxious deviations among our floundering species.  There at last is the reason many of us never feel good, confused, ill and out of context with the life experience, frequently succumbing to antagonists served up through the deep fry bubbling over into the mainstream, the TAO balance ever evident and taken for granted, void of compassionate understanding our entire borrowed existence in these flesh envelopes temporarily offered  us for the sole purpose to make whole the most natural and beneficial nutrient as only seven billion heavenly sources of purity and love can and must do. In our shallow minds, we insist on immediate gratification never imagining  its TAO partner, there can be no fast without slow.

A few years ago I presented a similar piece which was hotly contested by the few oldschool Ayn Randers still working their useless schtick exposing themselves as not nearly as intelligent as they saw themselves to be.  The point I made and make again is the same, the time nears we must get it together with our bredren in spite of their perspectives.  There is no enemy.  There are only destructive, degrading forces unaware of Universal consequence, forces which must adapt into awareness of the higher principles required for a peaceful transition as we join the Milky Way.  I see this as the only possibility for infinite growth - out there.  The infinite growth so treasured by little man treasuries willingly ensnared under the law of gravity, can only come about by living every moment with right intention, a state actually available to all by simply putting the matter of planetary continuation in the forefront of your every thought and action.

If the results of the effort do not come to fruition in our lifetime, it matters none, wherever its going, it will get there on a timetable of its own. To have seen and to have put in our seemingly miniscule portion is all that matters regardless of the outcome.  That we work towards  transition as bearers of positive change allows the possibility of positive change to take place at all.  We have no way of knowing our entrance into the Milky Way will be the last stop for Earth either.  When you can grasp a glimpse into the magnitude of future possibility based on unlimited Universal unknowns, as it eviscerates knowing though humanity's mundane meat-grinder, you will, it is guaranteed, at last feel good.

He say I know you, you know me
One thing I can tell you is
You got to be free
Come together, right now
Over me

*****

Heard of MiFi?  To date we have been using the internet in the typical manner humans waste their God-given potential, twisted as usual into a profit vehicle doubling as crowd control extending the false and backward interpretation of infinite growth within the low and growing lower consciousness of our species. It could instead, become a brilliant mechanism though which trust and OneLove deliver us from suicidal hopelessness and wallowing inside repeating circles of increasing failure, great minds saw this potential years before it was Bernaysed into its present existence.  You might recall BBS?  Forget Al Gore's claim, the web was originally developed through the selfless dedication of skilled human beings as a medium for sharing and building as seva, where enrichment fantasies were not a consideration. 

If you read the comments in the last post, you might have noticed I was down for awhile, plodding though the dumpsters of sleazoid bread and circuses carpetbagging though urbanista, destined to be overtaken yet again by yet another and another grand promenade for profit, here today, more tomorrow, until finally the babysitter's abusive hold could no longer contain the overflow of clownish justifications.  All it took was one enlightened being from the real world of compassionate intelligence to clue me in to what could be and I remain sincerely grateful.  If you can get onto MiFi, you'll do yourself a favor, but do exercise caution, overuse and misguided intention could take you away from our true purpose.  I leave you to light your own path.  Jah guide.

Bald Eagle, photography © Hot Springs Wizard,  2012

Bald Eagle family and fledgelings 24 hr webcam
turn on your speakers
from Bholanath, righteous.

a select destiny

"... Be careful where you're walking
You might step in something rough
Be careful where you're talking
And saying all that stuff
Take care when you are breathing
Somethings funny in the air
And somethings Im not saying
Bout what's happening out there
Its inside out ..."
Traveling Wilburys, from Inside Out

Having seen Avatar again recently, there is no question we, the Humans, have it all wrong.  Well, that is IF we were designed to thrive within the same galaxy as Pandora and her allied planets. We may not have been elected for living in harmonious balance. We may be something else, a rogue planet, the balance the Universe requires, as if no particle is complete without an antagonist.  Is good complete without evil?  And vice versa?  There are stories, such as Earth is the prison planet, or Earth is the feed lot for aliens.  The truth is we have no way of knowing for certain with the exception of how we have performed historically as a species dwelling on this planet.  We have performed exceptionally poorly, stupidly and foolishly.  Can you imagine Pandora with her ability to call species from like-minded galactic bredren and sistren destroying herself from the inside out?  Never!  If however, there is nothing like Pandora in existence and the other planets are stuck in a me, mine rotation, we have before us the grandest opportunity ever to make a difference, an opportunity presently being blown up, blasted, fracked, radiated, microwaved, tasered, tortured, denied, whipped and generally debased as geographic slave congregations under the watchful technological eyes of the plantation overseers who happen to be far worse in carrying out punishments than their oblivious masters busy keeping their infinity pools overflowing.  I fear the change we know could come about will not happen within our lifetimes and I doubt anyone reading here could become inured, although it is possible, albeit briefly, perhaps a few days at most.  I know those few days are hard when it happens, but you bounce back, you know too much. you feel too much, you see everything and what you don't see, you soon will.  You see when you are not trying to see.

There is no beauty without ugliness, The Tao, v.2
watercolor on Arches '06

One of many thousands of things I've read online over the years was a piece on depression claiming people who are depressed are actually more in tune with the reality of their situations.  They are fearful of what they see and it pains them physically.  Compassionate friends or family want to help them come out of their pained state because the depressed are a drag on the health and happiness of the greater clan and will perform a variety of comforts designed to lift the depression and return the depressed to a more satisfactory state.  It can work, but only temporarily.  It cannot work in the long term because the state of depression is the state of seeing our fundamental realities, slaves on a rogue planet where anything could and will happen.  Taking comfort for granted is living a lie.  There is no perfection without imperfection.  The Jane English and Gia-fu Feng translation of the Tao Te Ching says, in so many words, there is no beauty without ugliness.

Under heaven all can see beauty as beauty only because there is ugliness.
All can know good as good only because there is evil.
Therefore having and not having arise together.
Difficult and easy complement each other.
Long and short contrast each other:
High and low rest upon each other;
Voice and sound harmonize each other;
Front and back follow one another.

Therefore the sage goes about doing nothing, teaching no-talking.
The ten thousand things rise and fall without cease,
Creating, yet not.
Working, yet not taking credit.
Work is done, then forgotten.
Therefore it lasts forever.

But on a rogue planet, the balance can change as easily as the heartbeat of life.

Sometimes it makes us feel like the walking dead.  Cats with nine lives who have multiplied the odds as they keep coming, back to back, each should have claimed us we say, yet we live to see more.  And more again.  Something we cannot define with science and logic is happening here, a grand design, some not-of-this-world intention we are simply not at the rightful stage of development to comprehend regardless of our effort.  I believe this makes us a unique product of evolution to remain invincible in the face of pure unadulterated evil where vast and continuing material loss strips us to the lowest category of Earthly life and it has no influence at all, we go on in trust, always looking forward, accepting each test as triathlon athletes determined to pass and not just well, but intact, because in spite of the incessant repeats, it makes the good, the pure, the honest, the natural reverent and holy, gifts from somewhere else reminding us the world we desire really does exist and one day we are destined to reach it.

Two worlds ... One love

Anybody can be the bad guy.  The gene exists in all of us, the trick is to remain aware of your surroundings and the people with whom you are dealing.  Check yourself and live up to the spirituality you profess to possess.  Keep giving and when that doesn't go over, give more.  There is no limit to your love and how much you can spare.  The multiples of recent events in human behavior show us how completely love is rejected because that part, the most perfect part of mankind, is ruthlessly promoted as terror meaning terrifying to the perpetrators and the terrifying consequences lying in wait for their victims.  One day, you're ridin' high in the saddle, it appears as if all is under your control and nothing will ever happen to upend that picture, the next, you can find yourself homeless or incarcerated, lost in the maze of just-us, wondering what happened.  As the years pass in your new state, since you lately have hours and months, whole seasons, even years to spend looking into the situation, the answer will come and it was probably as forgivable as a brief gap in your awareness of presence.

In the new world we now occupy, mostly as unwilling witness, its always about the money, which is what Lucifer is to Jehovah.  And while the money pits grow higher, the fear of loss of fortune grows in parallel like a fungus on an Oak limb, at some point, in the carelessness of riding so high, loss is inevitable.  This leaves open the question of where all that money goes.  At last look, it isn't going into anything related to love.  The money, which was the point all along, is far more than currency. It is position, power, influence, the ability to create and destroy at will and all the people who haven't figured that out, who like to think its about gross materialism, have no clue.  Money is the greatest and most deadly weapon of mass destruction known to the Universe.  Money's first and last priority is to destroy love and it is extremely successful in its endeavors to do so.

For many of us reading here, these were foreign thoughts not too long ago.  We led our innocent lives unaware  Lucifer was on track to take over humanity.  As you now know there is no palm left ungreased, eight lane parades of grasping fingers await our every action or non-action and there is nothing to be done about it except remove yourself from the insanity even if means you failed in your attempt to give.  Money is almost impossible to move.  It is granite, without emotional content other than fear and false desire, there are many people and places that will never see it our way and we have to accept that.  But that in no way means we stop giving.  Not until fortunes are lost repeatedly does one begin any sort of healing process and there is no guarantee the healing process will be seen through to its fruition.  That is just another part of possessing too much of it, the memory will press many into corrupting compromise which will strain credulity to the breaking point.  In time, healing comes and it may not come until catastrophe brings it around.  At least you will have left the peace of your person behind when an example is required which is all the more reason to give more, love more, wherever the opportunity exists.

We cannot forget the picture of the stunned Japanese official weeping because he'd shown more respect to his working life than to his lost loved ones.

We live in two worlds, two zeitgeists simultaneously, that of the illusion and that of our own.  Every single day the illusion projects its force upon us and every single day we reconcile the damage done while living in love.  This is why there is nothing to be done about it, it is with us by design and to be overcome in this lifetime.  It appears that the most evil of our species has the capacity to overcome, but until their own personal moment of reconciliation presents itself, you will have no impact.  Love and compassion can be nurtured in children, but adults are too hardened to the punishments created by the illusion's perception of love as immaterial and foolish bordering on amusing but stupid.  We are incessantly pushed to join up with behaviors we would never naturally agree.  The illusion has managed to billow out over our species to steal our sweat labor and destroy our minds.  It dangles lies in our faces and tempts with come-ons which are mere water on a duck's back for the true believer.  These two worlds cannot possibly meet in the present.  Protests are met with violence, sudden legal entanglements which place you directly in the center of their microscope where anything you cherished is taken and divided among themselves while you try to meditate in solitary confinement.  You do understand, this is no "game".  The illusion takes itself very seriously and yet, I am reminded of Fyodor Dostoevsky who wrote circa 1880, that there would be no need for a justice system if everyone believed in God.

I take that to mean the God within who prevents us from criminal behavior and keeps us living in love, giving and caring, this God lives in everyone naturally if they allow it.  But a system of flexible do's and don't's backed up with bloodletting, violence, massive destruction and evil incarnate is a masterful generator of wealth, power and influence and was developed over the centuries by madmen and women of monarchy obligated only to the empire of religious dogma, some of them very ill, mentally unstable, paranoid, inbreds, whose behaviors were emulated by the weak-willed acquiescent having lost any sense of reality through close proximity to treasure.  And the world of the illusion grew legs and arms and fangs.

What they missed and miss still is incalculable. The loss is a loss difficult to encompass in its totality unless you can feel compassion for their misery in spite of all the damage done and to come.  First, you have to wipe clean your hearts and minds of revenge for revenge (just-us) is not a natural state of being.  Accept the powerlessness of the situation and know your power within is infinite.  Even if you think its not there, it is there because you thought about it.

this wire fencing

Take every chance that comes your way to involve yourself with our world.  Recently I commented about the sheep escapes and poor ewe Bella, new mom, getting her head caught in the wire fencing.  She'd worked through one of the openings, stretching the wire around her neck to get grass beyond the pen and was stuck, bellowing in pain.  I realized in the emergency no one else was around or would be for many hours.  There was no choice, no thought, but to pull apart the wire with my fingers and squeeze her back inside.  And it worked.  Whew!  She was very grateful, following me around, letting me know how good she felt someone was there to help.  I massaged her neck for a good while and chatted about her foible, but the truth was I felt good too.  I was grateful to her, for her trust in what I was doing, at some points during the rescue I know my fingers made the noose feel even tighter, but all turned out well which leads me to the next event.

Buffalo in wool

It was announced the pen would be moving across the wash back up on the hill.  I made it known any fence work would require my presence since I was the expert now in group safety.  The next day I worked my freekin' ass off like never before, taking down the posts, baling the wire, hiking it all across the Amazon Jungle-style wash (deep, winding rainwater trench, high potential for rattlers) and up the hill, surveying the new parameters, slamming the post pounder and securing the wire to the posts with a needlenose.  The amazing part was keeping Amos the Ram separated from the females, not an easy feat since I've nicknamed him Buffalo.  Right away, Laurie put up a temporary gated holding pen, a "catch pen", which we used to divide them, the gate led to the pasture, which Amos was baited into.

In jackets, on a chilly spring day, with my friend who has a Master's in Ag Science which means I had an amazing running commentary on the keeping of livestock. (Did you know that sheep have four stomach chambers and that is why you will never see one lying on its side?  When they sit, its always up, like the Sphinx.) So there we were, two human ewes, two days living in the best part of the history of humanity.  It felt so good.  The sheep eat the long grasses which is fire fuel, if you don't mow, get some grazers whom you will nurture and they will give you back your life or if you think you never had one, show you what life is really all about in more ways than I have space to list here.

quakin' blues

Is there enough money in the world to relieve all the disasters when they occur simultaneously? Will there be enough money to pay firefighters when lightening strikes again? Do governments set a little liquidity aside in a secret column, (it should be secret now or someone will figure out a way to use it for something else like an infinity pool overlooking the Aegean) just in case all hell breaks loose? Or do they take out loans. Do they like to rebuild their mammoth beachfront resort hotels over and over? Wouldn't that be good for BAU to have a constant need with a constant flow of sequestered funds, new hires, new contractors, new designers, new tourists, new airports and hospitals and new high-tech security enhancements for all? Sure. And what if these disasters could be pumped into twofers or threefers, oh, that will happen, not if, but when and where and not too long from now at the rate its progressing. I sensed a little disappointment among the desperate shrieking pundits today, so primed for Hilo to be disastered on location on live TV, see it first, here and now as they quickly turned to Japan's coast with smatterings of the scene in Chile, a disaster on the scale of the fifth highest in magnitude in the history of all recorded earthquakes. The Chileans interviewed have a calm to them, realistic and resigned, fully disconnected intellectually to Haiti. Obviously this is because they are not descendants of African slaves, made malleable by debt poverty and dependent on the international shylocks, homeless, hopeless and shackled into sweatshop submission, ridiculed and starving: a true to life profound disaster unfolding at any time. No, Chileans appear confident their damages will be repaired without having to look elsewhere to the bondage of helping hands. The loss of life is a tragedy, but for the most part the damage to the infrastructure is an inconvenience, a workaround, to be managed by themselves. They are at this time reluctant to request intervention, shock of all shocks, because as they say, they have not been able to assess what aid they might require, if any. Of course, the road to the the other half of their country, the wild, untamed half, lies in ruins, they don't have a real body count yet. That body count might be impossible to assess. Lots of people out there don't want to be found: tribal people and such.

Don't take my word for these things, my information has come largely from TV. The frothing pundits get in the way of real facts, cutting off leading seismologists in the middle of explaining enlightening tecto/tsunamo-fact to interview a tourist evacuating a Hilo resort or taking a break for the sponsors. Hawaii is a US state you know and thus what happens in the US stays focused on the US by supreme decree.

Japan has not seen a tsunami warning coming their way for over fifteen years. In one and a half decades you can imagine how many people forgot the lesson and built right up to the sea's permissible edge, but they say they are well prepared unlike California who harbors replicating fast buck developers, building into the foothills and difficult to reach canyons so the inevitable wildfires consume any vegetation holding the earth in place (like trees) which then turns into mudslides with the heavy rains of winter. They prepare themselves with huge nets holding dirt in place. If you've never seen the sheer size of these nets, and ponder whatever they could possibly do to prevent a mudslide, you would not believe it. However, helpful of not, they can't net the whole state or the whole planet if it ever came to that. Nor can the tectonic plates sit still forever. The Earth does what it does and we are mere Gumby lookyloos picking up a geography lesson along the way. Common sense tells us Japan is a lot farther away from Chile than Hilo and not to expect much except these colorful computerized graphics of water rippling out from where the stone was dropped.

The worst that Hilo and Japan will see are the terrors of so many people evacuating at once. Reblowing the sirens WW2-style, incessantly doesn't help. The hospitals closed to evacuate their staff meaning going to the ER for treatment of the thousands of panic attacks taking place is not an option. There will be a lot of car accidents and likely a few vehicles careening into panicked crowds hauling their most precious heirlooms seeking escape. It could get very messy.

I've written often recently about the disasters one is required to experience in this adventure we call life. They have always been with us, personally and externally in the larger world. I've also mentioned the Forces that divine our journey - if you pay attention to them. It is clear the Earth has its own plan for survival and the Forces tell us we are irrelevant to this plan. We can invent technologies and predictors and evacuation plans until we are blue in the face but until we stop abusing the Earth's resources we remain irrelevant, a bothersome, tiresome, annoying destructive species stealing what never belonged to us and never will. We must be the joke of the Universe. Lovely, perfect Earth rotating on its axis with all the other magnificent heavenly bodies except she has this fatal flaw, those quarreling, relentless thieving humans squandering her bounty, intent on blowing up the whole sphere with materials cobbled together from her stunning body. In this way, the perps are organ harvesters.

But it appears she won't have to live as a joke for long. The humans will kill each other off and then she will calm down. There are more worthy species that help instead of harm the system. When the Homo Sapien species began to see itself as too big to fail, too clever and too invincible to be intimidated by the natural forces, we were marked for extinction and its happening now, in real time, in living color. Its even happening to you, as they bring the rest of us down with them.

When all has vanished that one needs to survive including materials to make a lean-to on the riverbank and edible forages are lost to the complete trashing of our food chain, we are cooked. Forget losing everything else, your possessions, your money, your transportation, your golden years, films, TV and the web, whatever place you call your home and all of its contents, its all drowning in the infinity pools as the violent seas ride roughshod over the globe.

We have seen the future, nothing is left to the imagination, and now it is here.

All images clickable, taken onsite 02.20.10, ccc. 2010

It takes a train to cry

What Color is the Train Today ... I read that on Chris Floyd's Empire Burlesque just before reading Zoner's latest blog entry. It goes right along with what I've been thinking lately, namely when you stop educating the population to educate themselves, as in the true intent of real education, this is what you get. You get stupid people and you get freaks that have no behavioral controls. Then you get the nasty enforcers who have to keep the freaks at bay except there are far more freaks than enforcement. You would have to be a certain type of freak to want to have Halloween every day. You'd think they'd fall over with all the techno-weaponry hanging off their trousers. Out of the vehicle.
And that is only the visible tip of the iceberg. The real results of any movement so elaborate it takes years to implement on a global scale are showing now. It is impossible to mark the day or even the era when it began because it has always gone on. There was always an irrational segment of the population that blew off free thinking and acted, physically instead, often in sotto voce, if you were not convinced, stick around and they'd be delighted to convince you. It was never convincing to a person who thought.

Its amazing that we have so many people overpopulating this planet and so few who can think, isn't it? That the Illusion tirelessly works to buoy weak fabrications about what we are experiencing. None of them know the truth? Get real! They must. Some must. Its impossible to miss. The sell out to fascism was a bad move. Imperialism is a bad move. Bailouts and rip offs are bad moves. No one stands in the way? This is hard to believe. There is no difference in sentiment and opinion in the ranks? When everything is fubar, do you continue down the same road to annihilation or do you do an about face? How deep, how low, how high, how far goes the corruption? Are we, at our core, a corrupt species? Or perhaps corruption is contagious. Maybe it is in the food supply?

We are in an irreversible state at this time, a state of endless war brought to you by the econo-ocracy, the direct link to endless freak stupidity. Every exit is sewn up. Every person is in for a skinning, even if you have no skin left. Homeless, bloody, invalidated as human has no skin left. Every level upwards from the squatter's basements adds a layer of epidermis. Even if you live far away from the crowds in another country, you are living on resources that are and will be necessary to keep up the fiction. If not today then tomorrow. There is no end in sight. This was written in the wind that pushed the sails of the slave ships long, long before there was a word for mapping out parcels of land on someone else's continent.

The Trojan Horse has opened his belly exposing the mercenary armies of the freaks. It will continue until we are no more. Afterwords, there will be just them and then ... nothing, but the dust and smoke hanging in the air and bones brittle in the sun. Everything comes from Nature, everything returns to Nature. We are born from nature, we are nature. It is natural then the last war is ultimately a life and death struggle against Nature. Who will win and when? Each side thinks they know the answer, but the evidence on the mental scales of justice shows one side far lighter than the other. I refer you to The Art of Survival, Taoism and the Warring States in the Free Never Overdue Library on the sidebar concerning the victor knowing his enemy. Victory comes from thinking outside the box, i.e.; overstanding or overthinking, zooming out to the bigger picture, never taking for granted what you might find.

Timeless mindsets moodsetting the scenery of calamity

Before calling it a night, it is my long standing habit to read. I've mentioned my most recent score of the used literary anthology packed with enlightening material, some of which is often taken from larger bodies of authorship, as is the case with Medieval historian, Barbara Tuchman's chapter from A Distant Mirror: The Calamitous Fourteenth Century (1978). The particular chapter which fell out from the tissued pages onto the blankie was none other than "This Is the End of the World": The Black Death. Somehow, I'm thinking this wasn't a coincidence. Neither is it coincidental Steve Lendman's essay today takes us deeper into the situation unfolding under apparent martial law in Western Ukraine.

"... On November 4, in a nationwide address, Yushchenko cited:

-- an "emergency epidemic situation in the country," caused by "infections of viral origin, including A/H1N1 flu (that are) rapidly spreading across Ukraine;"

-- "People are dying; the epidemic is killing doctors;"

-- "three pathogens of viral infections came to Ukraine at the same time: two of them are seasonal flu and the third is the A/H1N1; according to virologists, such a combination of infections due to mutation may produce a new, even more aggressive virus;" ... "

As always, our vain question remains, can it happen here? As with good and evil being the two faces of one overarching force, the question has two answers. No, we are too fluid, diverse, practically lawless in certain regions, separate units of thought and geography, loathe to mingle, loathe to trust. Or, Yessiree, we are easy to find, track, document, label and our needs have made us known, the system exists because of us.

Adding to the mix, important input is provided from genuine voices of real science, past and present, offering another timely glimpse into cause thanks to Rick's extremely interesting presentation, Our Evolving Solar System: Plasma, Polar Reversals, and 2012 which considers the very real possibility of activities within the Universe beyond our control as creation of numerous Earth calamities throughout all history, recorded and discovered.

Again, here is the link to Tuchman's Chapter 15. It continues into the next chapter which is optional since my anthology closed the work at the end of the first full paragraph on the google page 105, equal to a mere 12 pages in my little anthology. Its enough to get us going making connections as we will.

Consider this required reading. Test tomorrow - Not. The previous and unknown owner of the anthology made notes in the margin. Obviously "he", male handwriting, would be tested. "Test, many questions", he wrote. "Inhumanity caused by fear" and "Neighbors preying on less fortunate" are other scribbles along with "Generally, people blamed God", "Doing penitence to chase away disease" and "Plague because of sin" with a final note at the closing "People so feared the Plague they did not record events."

I would have suggested to "him" we honor Barbara Tuchman's tireless perseverance in the face of enormous obstacles, especially those she notes in her introduction to The Distant Mirror ... , "uncertain and contradictory data with regard to dates, numbers and hard facts ... the changing prejudices and points of view of past historians ... the disproportionate survival of the bad side, producing an overload of the negative ... the difficulty of empathy, genuinely entering into the mental and emotional values of the Middle Ages"...

Still, western capitalistic citizens remain as Aborigines post-walkabout grouped under low flying planes dropping CARE packages, seeing God.

come together

Many things are falling into place, it appears sudden, but when you lay out the bits and pieces you'll see there is a pattern which gives meaning to it all.

First you'll want to examine how things are going for you personally at this time, take the past into consideration and some of those sharp memories of your childhood. Put that stuff into a manila file folder and label it Done.

Then read this. It is important. I'll wait while you digest the material. Go on, do it now. I'm not going anywhere and if you had the time to visit today, you have the time to read the links. I am on pause until you come back because this is part one of a two part story, the New Story. Our personal Year Zero.

Welcome back. The Done folder goes into the circular file. You know, we've been wasting a lot of time, although it appeared our time was purposeful, it did not actually get us where we really want to be. It occurred to me recently the huge body of outrage resulting directly from our stupid situation, our limp fury and bandaged heads from all the beatings against concrete walls, had an almost indescribable momentum AS IF IT WAS DESIGNED. Designed to be impossible to remove. What are walls meant for anyway? In the old story, walls worked. In the new story, there are no walls. We couldn't help it because we were born into it and it takes a train to cry. That's a good stage BTW, at least it opens the heart. After dwelling in that stage long enough, you know you must move on, you'll get a headache from the heartache. It seems that just about everyone born into the western gravitational system needs a lifetime to figure out how to get those Manhattan telephone books off their feet. Until you just remove them by yourself, going from one step to the next is unbearably difficult because those phone books are the pages of our past, our ancestors and their Karma, but remove them and all of that stops. It stops with you. You are at the end of that story here and now. Its over.

Everything feels better, brighter, more real, as it should be and as you always knew it was meant to be. The windows are open and the crispy season of turning leaves brushes against your face. You could almost fly. It doesn't matter what criticisms lie in wait, they have no meaning anymore, the Complaints Ledger went out with the Done folder. Could it get any better than this?

Yes, it can. There is a stunning coda to the new story. Just when you made the greatest breakthrough of your life, no phonebooks, no complaints, there was a very small and silent part of you that still longed ... the part that says "but what about?"

Now read this.

We could just stop here and live happily ever after. No more blogging required. Except, I like blogging, besides, I like art, too. Mostly, I like to see where these ideas lead and best of all, what other people do with them. In our new story, everyone is exploring their potential, it never stops, where one starts another takes it higher. To hell with copyrights, to hell with the selfishness of me-isms and mines. We WANT our ideas expanded otherwise they die, contracted, against all reason, which is exactly backwards from our natural intent.

If you read the links before you visited, we are on the same wavelength already and traveling together in light years. If you are just reading them now, there is no time like the present. The hologram is gone, the prison bars melted, the door of the trap was sprung wide open. Take it easy, the only thing holding us back today is language, our thoughts move faster than words - and words, geeze, they're backwards too.

I've been trying to compose snail mail letters to a friend in rehab. You can't imagine how difficult it is to convey meaning by hand, my handwriting races into the margins now. I've been trying to explain our new story, you can't link in paper letters, heh, and I imagine she won't be allowed to have those letters until she leaves. I want to tell her drugs have nothing on the truth, but that has to wait for a few more weeks when her real crisis begins. All of our crises are the storm clouds under which the play of civilization unfolds. Our protest acts as lightening followed by the rains, the floods, tsunamis of unrest and devastation. Our illnesses and discontents never had to be. Our guilt was rooted in singularity, thinking we were alone, or special, or separate, or smarter, or more adept or thwarted or unrecognized somehow and slighted, misunderstood, under-represented, without free will, enslaved and mysteriously used against our better judgement, ie; forced and coerced unnaturally. Our collective materialism was the buffer and it failed miserably in our hour of need. Each failure reinforced another and another until we found ourselves virtually helpless, lost in a vast universe of illegitimacy. You have to just shake your head in grief, how long has it been anyway, that you felt really, really good?

Well, let's go then, into the new story and get it on. Erase those hated words, rush and urgent, deadline, harsh, rehab, mainstream, zeitgeist, statistics, etc. Surely you'll have your own list of prehistoric nonsense you've used repeatedly to be in the "know". In the new story, we know nothing and everything at the same time, call it a speedball state of existence if you must, a state of union with the All where what IS completely extincts what WAS.

Standing at the banks of the Whitewash River

I could just make this entry a diary of the past few intense weeks and probably get away with it, but I don't want to "get away" with anything, its against Nature. In fact, since my personal survival method lacks "getting away" with something, I'll surely fail out there in our new cold, cruel world. I wouldn't be alone though, there are a lot of people like me. I know this because I have met them along the way. The threat of failure is only a momentary splash on our sunglasses if we hang around the Whitewash Riverbank too often.

I wonder how many of my friends here think I'm a lot like them? We would be exactly alike if we removed all of our crutches and apparatus for getting along in the Hierarchy's civil-ization, aka The Game, aka The Zombie Food Court. We would be exactly the same minus everything that made us think we are individuals. It would be a great world, wouldn't it, if all the me's and mine's and owners and possessors and partisan parties and borders just evaporated. Someday it will be like this. This is the real war, its a world war that's been going on earlier than the year Zero, AD. One thing is certain, we will win it someday because its all about the truth. How we feel about this on any given day is variable because our immediate survival insists we step into the River of Whitewater Whitewash on occasion. We are influenced no matter how strong and certain we are about ourselves.

Everything that we think "happens" to us is rooted in the River. Only your own internal buoy will keep you afloat and it is you, alone, who must paddle yourself home. There are old songs and biblical passages about this kind of thing, remember "You got to walk that Lonesome Valley" or "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow ... "? This is one of the reasons I can say we're not alone in the struggle, the fact is we've got plenty of company and always have, going way, way back. Its a long war. War is definitely not the right word for this. Actually, we don't have a word in English or any western language that accurately describes what is happening. "Win" is inappropriate as well. What do you say when everything on the one hand is fubar while everything on the other hand is rock solid truth? I'm going to say "intentional juxtaposition". How's that?

At any given time, we are doing our best. The myth is "we can do better". Can we do better at doing nothing? Can we do better by adjusting our settings so no alien computer spies on our blog comments? Can we do better spending money we don't have, can we try harder to be someone, something we are not and never were or will be? Maybe we can do better by wearing earplugs and blinders? Can we do better when we are sleeping? See what I mean? You are enough just as you are. The true you underneath the accoutrement of the motion picture starring your Self-Representative is good enough, all of the time, anywhere in the Universe, in any setting, even the Rose Garden if you were somehow thrust into it ... but don't count on that being televised. The real you is not going to be picked up by Larry King, not even Oprah wants you as you are, which is interesting isn't it, you being at your best and all.

There was a line spoken by Martin Sheen to his son, Bud, in the film Wall Street. It went something like "A man lives long enough, he sees everything." I thought it was a good line then, but lately it comes back to me as a great line. Far superior to Descartes' "I think, therefore I am." which I find kind of juvenile. Sheen's line is rock solid truth, I mean, look around, did you ever think ---, meanwhile, Rene Descartes encourages the me-ism of the individual as if "I am" completely justifies adopting the Illusion's version of jugular justice and its accompanying outrage, excuses, side-winding, winners, losers and various in-sane punishments and tortures.

We are bored to distraction with this nonsense, are we not?

The glorified individual is just another boulder in the Whitewash River. They are stuck there literally for eternities. It is our job to paddle past them proving the Universe is fluid. Maybe they will even hoot and holler in your wake, admonishing in their Hierarchical tongues, threatening and advertising themselves in terror babble. You can spend every hour of every day for the rest of your life listening to it, acknowledging it, adjusting your mental settings to it as it pole dances nude, flashing Monopoly money and promising salvation in pop-up masquerades on your webcams or you can just paddle on home and clean up your soul in your own way.

We have in a sense, become labeled without the label, no one is really saying it, but we have been here before. This is where the permanent outcast class has it over the sunken middlins, long ago they got the message. We had a little breather following the Civil Rights Movement, but its doubled back with a vengeance previously thought to be impossible, this time slamming everyone but the ones doing the slamming. Victims qualify for full outcast status by the mere fact of their victimhood and thus perceived as weak and stupid, dependent and available for suckering. Victims don't think, therefore they are not. What is the difference anymore between "injuns" and you and me? Everything we read about the history of the Native Americans and the African Americans enlightens us to the truth of the present which is this unsustainable intentional juxtaposition that places victims in the enemy camp.

When you listen to Muddy Waters singing Willie Dixon's, "I just wanna make love to you", the intentional juxtaposition becomes very clear. It is no accident we and our historical brethren cannot get next to them, much less intimate. And yet, we must and we will. The pain and misery of knowing what the Universe asks of us and not being anywhere near the finish line is to some of us unbearable. It appears as such a simple step. But in our immediate situations, its helpful to remember we have been here before and could be here again and over again. It is a long war. We have to love them if we are going to join with the Universe, which is a given, it cannot be denied to Earth, no planet left behind sort of thing. When you peer into the night skies at the Milky Way, our destiny is absolute even to the naked eye, if anyone is looking. I know you look, too.

I want to thank Michael now for bringing me back from the river banks with his link.