Recent Timelines of A, B, AB and Us.

It is not so much as frightening, not necessarily confusing either, but very much in keeping with what many Boomers - those that experienced that particular period of time, that state of mind, when things were different, you know the time I am speaking of - envisioned happening given enough time, latitude and perversity encouraged by imitation, for whatever reasons imitation exists inside Present Shock. And here we are at last, full on, off the wall, it is what it is and looks like and it isn't going to reverse itself anytime soon.  As long as the Human Race continues to trample overboard through the Mothership's carrying capacity, conscience be damned, the changes will continue to accelerate exponentially into 24/7, 3-D dystopian Ice 9 extreme planetary and thus, Solar catastrophy. The media's role in all of this is that of soap opera producers egged on by their Bond Holders.  I have previously suggested in a variety of ways if there were not two species, identical in body, appearance and commonly accepted speech and to date, as usual, we've talked about other concerns as we have always done.  There are always other concerns and then there are immediate concerns.  This is because we are rational people who gradually became enured to the state of affairs sitting over the land like a hungry Black Hole.  In spite of how freaky it gets, we have our lives to live, however we live them, as true and honest, loving beings. 

Early on, I developed an ability to tune it out.  This was because I was the eldest of my siblings, i.e.; somewhat more free to explore the territories beyond those native to suburban sectors. Naturally, I took advantage of that limited freedom to experience a broader view of life in the same way I encourage world travel as often as possible in this lifetime. Really, who wouldn't? Perhaps this apparently huge group of Trump supporters might not. Like the thugs and firebrands.  Did you realize there were actually so many of them?  In cities, too, my friends, places where you would not think you'd normally meet up with them.  They are certainly not on the fringes anymore.  The rednecks' backwoods must have profited greatly from removing trees and encouraging development, eventually allowing it to meet up with major urban centers where caucuses and primaries are held.  All their philosophically cloned children cut a beeline to the cities and kept their ingrained mindsets, points of view, unfounded prejudices and friendships close.  There is a staggering number of them, the gleeful Wizards framing the Great Illusion surely know this as well as their markets.   They have tailored civilization to suit the common man's limited capacity to look beyond himself and his situation, which is, by the way, Jack London's point in To Build a Fire.

"... But all this—the mysterious, far-reaching hair-line trail, the absence of sun from the sky, the tremendous cold, and the strangeness and weirdness of it all—made no impression on the man. It was not because he was long used to it. He was a newcomer in the land, a chechaquo, and this was his first winter. The trouble with him was that he was without imagination. He was quick and alert in the things of life, but only in the things, and not in the significances. Fifty degrees below zero meant eighty-odd degrees of frost. Such fact impressed him as being cold and uncomfortable, and that was all. It did not lead him to meditate upon his frailty as a creature of temperature, and upon man's frailty in general, able only to live within certain narrow limits of heat and cold; and from there on it did not lead him to the conjectural field of immortality and man's place in the universe. Fifty degrees below zero stood for a bite of frost that hurt and that must be guarded against by the use of mittens, ear-flaps, warm moccasins, and thick socks. Fifty degrees below zero was to him just precisely fifty degrees below zero. That there should be anything more to it than that was a thought that never entered his head. ..."

It is my observation their numbers can only grow.  As the same time of course, so do ours.  Imagine how well that works out.  We see it multiple times every single day.

There is and always has been, I am sure, plenty of interspecies mingling which never turns out well according to the soap opera production personhoods.  Many seemingly perfect relationships dissolve in disaster because these jack-in-the-box pairings were destined from the start never to be.  In the beginning,  A types actually admire many of Bs' qualities, qualities that A lacks and vice versa.  Over time, it comes out, of course, that A realizes B is not perfectly suited for A's life plan.  Then its over and a new path is taken.  Often, they repeat themselves over and over almost as if a violent Karmic Plan was playing out.

And while all these As, Bs and ABs carry out their Karmic debt, it runs counter to ours.  A very small portion of it is convenient for us and we take advantage of what they offer from time to time, in the process of habit which against your purer self, eventually develops, seemingly impossibly, while nothing is done to bring the great spinning Ferris Wheel to a halt or even slow it down, inertia has taken over and we are simply you and me, reeds in the wind and yes, in the way, unless we yes-man the processes. 

I extend my gratitude to all who visit and comment.  I do truly love the friends that take the time to leave their thoughts all of which taken together have created our outlying island.  We have been doing this for a long time, the era has been an unanticipated joy in multiple ways and occasions. I won't ever stop posting, although as you know, life has a way of putting you in different places for awhile, but I've noticed we always return to this interesting and much needed style of communication.  I take you very seriously and have a personal law to never let my friends down.  Life is holy.

picking up where we left off...

On the same page as our beloved and insightful, tell-it-like-it-is friend, Bho, I ask you who among us who does not feel the craziest days and nights of all time past and to come, are heaving themselves in front of us - so that we are forced against our will to feel the hot, foul breath of the beast, the stink of his burnt tongue from slurping the fires of Hell?  We are just simple people, never asking for, never imagining, never looking for the House of Horrors on a bright, sunny afternoon kicking back in essex green Adirondack chairs on the deck overlooking the perfect beauty of Nature.  I began to count concurrent events before my hiatus, but the events rolled themselves into what began as a series of global news stories, each international, previously unheard of www.slime.rag on overtime pushing details regardless how insignificant, or false, designed purely to inspire fear and loathing, and quickly grew into a Ripley's Believe it or Not, including immediate placement in the Guinness Book of Gargantuan, Stupid and Hypocritical Earth Shattering Records.  Now, today, and for evermore, in our remaining times among the living, a monster ball of dung trails the slouching beast, growing larger and heavier, squatting on our sad blue planet, surely she, blameless, is weeping tonight. 

But her wrath is sly, her rope unlimited and she allows the Hominid species to simply hang themselves. 

If you been readin' the news pages on your device of choice, you know what I'm sayin'.
 
It goes without question, life is about learning.  We who are aware we are always learning and accept what we experience as a teaching moment, good or bad, are able to draw on those lessons because these lessons are integral (our nature) and lifelong.  If those experiences are perceived without overstanding, or fleeting, or just never acknowledged at all, where would you be now?  Probably in a maximum security prison of your own making, certain you are innocent of whatever crime that put you there, you were just going along, caught up in your materialist fantasy, accepting of your entire current life situation on the Great Plantation when WHAM.  Something happened, could be anything, you know, but you don't know what happened because responsibility of any sort was never in your vernacular.

I didn't come into this observation recently.  It seems to grow in league with population stats so that everything strongly disagreeable, ridiculous, backwards, tragic, corrupt and evil multiplied exponentially, which should mean the antithesis multiplied exponentially also, but no, it did not happen as the TAO explains the natural balance of beauty and ugliness.  It meant instead, the heinous acts of the Yang overlapped its boundary into the Yin, in doing so, the balance undone, quaked, the axis spins wildly out of control.  One could, if mathematically inclined, actually calculate where all of this is going since it continues, unabated, nothing at all on the horizon impeding its excesses. 

Sometimes we wonder how it came to be this way in the spare moments between events.  Is it genetic imbecility or is it unabated narcissism?  Or is it both and more?  I don't completely count out otherworldly.  Are we merely a proving ground, a coliseum for hostile aliens?
 
... Intermission for Meditation ...

Far away, in another land, a tropical dream where the overseers are right on the edge of legalizing weed for religious purposes, our Rasta continues to build his paradise where on warm, silvery nights you can see the moon looking into his door.

a breed without soul

In a recent post concerning overpopulation, I mentioned the lack of identity among purchasing dependent overpopulators:

."..The next time you find yourself sitting in traffic, take a good look at your surroundings, take note of the decals emblazoned in obese fonts with neon hues on westerners' windsheilds, "American Patriot",  "I'm not a bitch, I'm THE Bitch" or the rednecks' fave, bin Laden pissing.  These indicate a desperation to stand out among the writhing masses, wouldn't you say, a loneliness so severe that attention is drawn by means of annoying hapless passersby?   You might also say its obvious they have no identity anymore (if they ever had any to begin with) and obscene decals are the best they could scrabble together in saying "I am alive, look at me, I count dammit!" ..."

... Overpopulators who in elbowing their ways through the journey atop Nascar rated tires or encased in overpriced lookalike cages behind gated walls,  the cabs and carriers of which include amenities such as surrogate identity where none actually exists, rooms and inhabitants displaying various cult features such as fashion. style, cosmetic surgery, meaningless logos and rude decals, never used tourbus campers, accessorized show pets, sculpture for the stupid tipped over on the tiny lawns and so forth which when distilled are banners hovering above their bodies as cartoon thought bubbles since the verbal skills of these cage dwellers are limited to uninspired overused phrases meted out under stress with matching facial expression instead of the age old middle finger hand signal which could, if employed outside the safety of shatterproof glass, bring on drastically unintended consequences.  For example, our mridang master met up with one of these PDO cultists last week, here is his description of the experience:

"On the 20th, in town, I was flipped off, cut off and almost rammed by a woman tearing in the exit to get in front of me at the gas pump. As she calmly got out I asked what the problem was. My eyes met the most icy cold, nobody-home, face I've seen in a long time. I was told to 'have a nice day'. Maybe I just don't get out much, and this is the new normal? Heavily meded-up was my take, and too close to the edge for me to pursue it further, as it was already disturbing enough...."

Hey, good move my man!  Too close to the edge indeed.  Call in the Astrologers or perhaps this event was yet another training exercise...
Shall we translate his tongue-tied  aggressor's meaning behind "Have a nice day", under those circumstances?  How about heated guilt?  Guilt so pure and intensely felt inside it burned in a wildfire of panic.  Caught, the pretender of rights to the pump was instantly reduced to a cheesy four words - words only used in that particular way by all the other countless guilty who know perfectly well they have destroyed your peace of mind by initiating deliberately violent and dangerous action proving for all who happen to be passing by, whatever they are doing is of more importance than whatever you could possibly be doing and are rendered speechless when the unexpected and unknown consequences of their reprehensible behavior suddenly confronts them face to face.   "Have a nice day" means Go away. I have no explanation for my actions, I don't even  know why I did what I did.  I can't apologize because that would give you (and me) living proof I was wrong.   Had it been anyone other than our musician confronting her, you can be certain she was aware her behavior was setting the stage for violence.  She took a wild gamble there and lucky for her, walked away to continue ruining the days of whomever else was so unfortunate as to be in her path.  I'm sure you've met plenty of these kinds of people, we all have, it is unavoidable, especially now as many of them have been born into a world ripped asunder, minus any comprehension of what exists inside themselves and others or even a shred of vague curiosity why the world is what it is today.  To question is to risk exposure.  They run the gauntlet and take their gambles and often lose, the losses piling high in their wake.  And when they don't lose, they still lose, because living a life in this manner makes them no friends.  There is something about being behind the wheel or any imaginary shield that ignites these wannabeWetikos like nothing else because out in the open they become sniveling cowards either looking for the nearest escape or threatening with a show of imaginary protections referring to friends in high places, but when you're looking at them, they are accompanied by no one.  Who could stand them?  They don't even like each other and are so worried their children won't turn out exactly like themselves, the kids are forced to stay indoors, losing their own curiosity and adding pounds watching candy bars broken in half and magically sealed back together on the wide screen.

Sad to say, I've been coming across this kind of thing too much. I try to stay apart, while being there with others, but alert, you never know what triggers another person's unsuspected anger.  Of course, this is not always the case, but it has happened enough in these times to be a recurrent phenomena.  However long and however well you think you might know someone, there is still a hidden, rather low level potential, you could, completely accidentally, set them off.  When that happens, you never forget, whatever you thought you had previous to that moment is gone, the trust betrayed.  The trust I am speaking about is a trust that we accept the totality of others, their baggage, their flaws, their bond with us until it is exposed as one sided, which isn't a bond at all.  Regardless of how fully we might join in smothering the outburst and make a long drawn-out show of loyalty, in your own mind and memory, the scene lives on.  You may think others have long overlooked your lapses too, but from your own experience, you know it is impossible and you can only hope the passage of time brings opportunities where you or she/he show themselves a better man than that deep, dark, secret memory you have of a seemingly out of character event.   Note it works not only both ways, but from an intermingling of angles. If you notice it happening repeatedly, you will eventually be forced to confront yourself, asking what are you in it for anyway?  Some know exactly why they engineer face to face crisis.   The Wetikos and their vain admirers play us like pianos, confident that following a successful guilt-inducing punishment, if you are still present, still forgiving, you are no threat to their existence. One might think they take it for granted no one is paying attention to the dynamic or how it charts itself in the memory-bank.  Over and over I see it going down, day after day, night after night, the same scenes enacted by countless human beings refusing to see the reality of what is happening, what they are doing, stumbling over the damage left in the wake of continuing crisis, poisoned to the gills from a steady diet of pesticides, loaded on mind glazing drugs, oblivious to the tortures they inflict and are being inflicted upon them. They are far beyond caring. What's more, they do not want you to point it out to them either, they already know they are in so deep there can be no escape during their lifetime.

I cannot imagine a life spent like that, can you?  They might as well just be lifers on the chain gang cultivating your crops.  We like to think somewhere down the road the human underneath will show up, but there is no evidence such a folly ever takes place.  That would be like hoping Jerry Sandusky mends his ways or George Zimmerman feels remorse.  Ladies and gentlemen, there is a breed out there that has no humanity and has laid claim to entire lifetimes without sensitivity, sorrow, suffering, love or compassion.  They have learned to blend in order to thrive and thrive at your expense they will.  This breed is one of the worst effects of overpopulation because you cannot avoid meeting up with them in crowds.  Avoid crowds.  Stay aware of your surroundings and keep a low profile. This breed thrives in a pampered and corrupt culture based on worship of the self.  In this way, you could call them vampires - energized by the blood of innocents.

We can also say Great Fortune shined upon our beloved musician while being shown the existence of this breed.  The fact the remainder of his day turned out so well, not to mention void of conflict escalation, speaks highly of his self-control.  That is a self-control we would all be wise to emulate.  Considering the bigger picture, with all its extending pressures and disappointments, the undeniable angst of a planet under siege, the refusal to address responsibility for extinction events immediately under way is leading westerners from denial and refusal into violence as if civility no longer matters.  To say civility has no place, is saying there is no love.  There will always be love, my friends.  No matter how unwieldy it gets, how freaky, how strange, how cruel, humiliating, devastating and physically painful, the one thing we can always count on is Love.  Love always wins. 

I  leave you with a link to an alarming report, Global Warming's Terrifying New Math, written by Bill McKibben and published for the August 2012 edition of Rolling Stone. I am sure some of you have seen it already. The fact that this piece was made available in that publication tells us citizens are meant to see it, share it and lose their cool over it.  Isn't that what Wetikos really want?  Ah, but I've got news for them, the majority of readers will be concerned only until the next personalized blinking ad grabs their eyes.

"... This record of failure means we know a lot about what strategies don't work. Green groups, for instance, have spent a lot of time trying to change individual lifestyles: the iconic twisty light bulb has been installed by the millions, but so have a new generation of energy-sucking flatscreen TVs. Most of us are fundamentally ambivalent about going green: We like cheap flights to warm places, and we're certainly not going to give them up if everyone else is still taking them. Since all of us are in some way the beneficiaries of cheap fossil fuel, tackling climate change has been like trying to build a movement against yourself – it's as if the gay-rights movement had to be constructed entirely from evangelical preachers, or the abolition movement from slaveholders. ..."

May the Force be with You

Has everyone been enjoying the internet lately?  Heh.  Its all bad stuff.  They've won.  Yes, the real terrorists are running free, running the whole show and we've bled and watched and waited and bled more and watched more until our Groucho Marx eyeballs sprung from their frames.  They viciously grabbed our attention, rifled hungrily through our empty pockets seeking anything that Wal*Mart could stack into their job lot weather-less caverns and left  us by the side of the dirt road in the heat searing, barren desert brush too beleaguered, too unhealthy, too weak, too empty of spiritual energy to find our way back because ... the gates to the heart of the matter are sealed with nuclear crazy glue.


We're still alive however.  But it is an alive that is like living in a movie set, the Truman Show perhaps, the infrastructure for life itself is there, but nothing works underneath the wall paper of a sky with mannequin characters forever locked into place.  A suitable stage set would be that early Twilight Zone episode concerning the Sterno junkie strangely surviving radiation in a fake model town destroyed by a good nuke testing.


The recent Adam Mayes murder kidnapping episode took us far back into the old moonshining days of inbreds and foliage overgrowth where dummies are still at the still, banjos and preachers and relatives of relatives' friends and their third cousins of ex-spouses and (no traceable relation because its too complicated) hangers-on quikstop cashiers having their say in the press, he said, she said, no one is guilty and everyone clamors for a part, the mothers-in-law of the former spouses of bigamous Zombie creatures slithering through wet, uneven terrain where no child has a father and all the children are reproduced in the exact image of their toothless ancestors combined, emerging from quicksand by the miracles of Jesus.


Why IS this we ask?  It is because the square mileage of our continent allows holdovers from an earlier era to exist in geographies unclaimed by urban sprawl.  Its always been a government problem.  Combing, cleaning out, dumpster diving though these ancient closeted holdovers remains a Fed priority to this day.  Why throw funds at education or municipal improvements when you can simply shine the white hot planetary stage spotlight on its unprofitable worthlessness?


Cockroaches are not allowed to exist in a flattened world armed with singing camera cellphones reviewing their bank accounts and foreclosure proceedings by the hour inside armed gated communities anchored to select chain store strip malls.  From time to time, we are forced to look, as if the "civilized" populace needs another Foie Gras treatment shoved down their esophagus as warning to all to get with, and stick with, the system.  Of course, there is that additionally tasteless re-election component involved.  Their eveready tactical opener, Caveman Nugie, knows all about murder in the backwoods, interesting how he was drafted from the dusty archives a mere days before the Foie Grassing.  You will note in the Adam Mayes episode, no mention was made of performing the usual criminal search practices such as collecting cellphone records and laptop seizures. The Mayes event appears to have been entirely an "on foot, door to door" extraordinarily closed mouth arrangement.  Likely this is why cleaning out and cleaning up Waziristan has been such a nasty problem as well.  Can you imagine?  How can the land even be considered for Wal*Marts and development property leases when there are uh, those insane infestations of swarming insects crawling through the undergrowth up and down the mountains (apparently immune to Roundup, and highly likely that is due to zero percent purchasing power)?  They sought to draw us in on their horrific difficulties during the BP blowout, spotlighting shrimpers and the abundance of backwards, makeshift lifestyles to no avail, the greater issues blocked the effort and were quietly cancelled due to the impotency of the punishment.  A more effective bang for their buck would have been to rip apart the seemingly flawless Anthony family and expose the massive infestation in Orlando's angelic state of make-believe sub-urbanity.  Ah but no, that would not have worked in their favor, we can be sure such dumpster diving would have exposed the poisoned roots of all that appears covetously shiny, lush, clean, nutritious, expensive and healthy.


It would have come out that every man remains an island unto himself and no expensive product or perfectly plasticized contortions of lifestyle, unmarred and ziplocked into purring vehicles under 24/7, 365 day monitoring will ever have effect on the infestations ... anywhere.  If they really meant to do the job effectively, they should call in Wildland firefighters and the backhoes, radio the command planes and cordon off the region, all of which tells us something about the fundamental reason they do not.  They don't because these spotlit events are the Foie Gras method of keeping in line those suburbanites, exurbanites and urbanites who are not absolutely yet convinced or growing less convinced the wonderful new world isn't actually so wonderful.


That it isn't so wonderful is an understatement.  It is useless diversion barricading authentic experience.  All of it wrought long ago by the evil insights of Bernays where realty is contorted by words and imagery into the facade of human advancement.  Surely he was a card carrying CFR Jetsons fan.  Surely his followers felt things were not happening quickly enough to satisfy their own payment plans and upped the program after a brief intermission for Kool smokers and college educated middle class homeowners before abruptly unveiling the new, improved date-stamped Ponzi pyramid.


During that intermission, many of us reading here were selected to enter this journey, at this time, in this place, on this very planet.  And this group, this band of concerned volunteers without memory of our transported altruistic goals, matured along with Earth's inhabitants as if we were a natural part of the program except ... there was always a lingering doubt of its viability, especially as it repeatedly rubbed against the grain, a soft reminder of the forgotten mission, the appearance not at all being what it proclaimed to be, that the species itself seemed deeply flawed preventing the homo sapien from its ability to develop spiritually, to see and know in that way that seeing is wisdom and knowing is acceptance, dis-empowering the individual to achieve any greater purpose other than placing all sensory powers upon the activities and appearance of mannequins, zombies and spotlit personalities, adopting each others' roles, characters, allegiances and opinions - automatically.  It is stated frequently "This is life", as if it is a condition, a helpless syndrome of vacuous and painful wandering from nowhere to nothing and simply must be endured until the big prize of magnificent rapture arrives.   It matters none the rapture doesn't take place, there is always some bible thumping, high moral ground justification encouraging the great sea of homo sapien true believers to press on, endure more.  Should any of those enduring grow weary while pressing on, the length of the average lifespan of the human being is comforting in its brevity fully allowing the tragic possibility any greater potential remains eternally unrealized, unknown, lost in whatever continental universe of in-curiosity and regulated behaviors exist among the retarded faux civilizations doomed to ennui and suffering.

Our mission can be remembered at any time, especially when you are not trying to remember, rather, standing in the welfare lines or gathering flints and interesting rocks in the desert during an oncoming sandstorm or if you are a musician, evading the work of a composition, even though you know it will center you.  It will come back to you in a variety of forms, mostly it is a taking-off of sorts, suddenly airborne, and you will realize it had nothing to do with your wants or what you think about it at all, and everything to do with letting go.  You cannot call it forth, it will alight when and where you'd least expect.


There is a Force in the Cosmos, of that we can be sure, outside of us, that takes care of us, it is love seeking a receptive vessel.  As proof, you can do nothing civilization terms usefully productive for as long as possible and see what happens.  Let it flow through you and radiate it outwards at every opportunity.  Love, compassionate, seva-love is the remedy needed now. 

The downpressors may have won the round, but they will never rule the Force. May the Force be with you.
 

never ending appetites for self-destruction

Was there ever a more perfect metaphor for the crumbling state of the Union than the coming demise of the  twinkie?  You have to wonder how many lives have been destroyed by the weaponry of unconquerable addictions, how many grossly overweight waddlers ballooned to their present heft by indulging themselves and their offspring's lunchboxes in high calorie, zero nutrition snackpacks, courtesy of the towering Ho-stess shelf apparently mandatory in every superbox regional servicing unit.  Just today we heard in rather sideways whispers, twinkie codone may not actually disappear, leading us to ask which investment fund headed by which overfed butterball will scarf up its profitability and keep the Union's scales squashed in favor of bloat while laying off the thousands of cake machine operators and whipped creme stuffers and chocolate corn syrup spreaders' assembly lines or the shrink wrap guys and the sell by date stamping ladies.  This might be a good investment for the bane of our existence aka Romney's bane of his laughing campaign. Bain. They say he laughs too much. It is surreal isn't it, how the candidates campaigning for jobs creation only create fear and loathing while dissing each other, it is as if the dirtiest, slimiest smears win fame and increased fortune always at the expense of others who just want to be free of interference and left alone.  And isn't it amazing any addiction at all spawns mammoth fix-it industries only to fail nearly every addict who manages to come up with the means for assistance?  You ever wonder how such giant wads of dough spent on dirty mouth campaigning and false fixes could be put to better use?  My gawd ...

They make lots of jokes, but no one is laughing, because the joke is, as usual, on us.  While I was shaking my head in abject dismay over the primaries, while Abu Ghraib rose up from the zombie crypt to dribble the golden shower upon dead men smashed into smitheens, while trying to read all the blogs on my sidebar and divert my anguish, I happened upon Visible's most recent Origami post.  Uhhhh, man....  what else is there to say?  My first instinct is to take everyone lost in love's misery into my arms, hug you and explain a few facts of life that are unfortunately best learned though self-discovery, sorry. 

I want to say I'm glad someone broke the ice on a subject we've never really examined here and yet it is the one thing over which we actually have some control.  I will also say pairing off works for awhile for most of us and then it doesn't.  God bless the child who finds his lifetime lover.  Let's definitely acknowledge them because they live a different life from you and me and from where we stand it sure looks like paradise.   All our lives we strive to achieve that kind of love and very, very few find it.  I wouldn't pay too much attention to the statistics for lifelong partnerships, it is my observation most of them are not exactly living in the mutual bliss we would imagine, although statistics stating otherwise occasionally appear proving mostly what the statistician was paid to calculate, Fukushima being just one example of implausible figures. 

It seems that when our pairings begin to show cracks, we do the worst things possible, ignore them until it physically hurts and then we go about applying patches until they come off exposing our bleeding confusion and then we fantasize about moving on, picturing a future with someone somehow more sympathetic to whatever sympathies we require be met. The whole picture reminds me of a grade school science film where cells move around in the bloodstream.  They bunch up, some break away from the group and keep moving, some few are stuck together for the duration of the flow.  Remember that?  Now enlarge it to include the physical bodies of human beings and there you have it, we are Nature and it is only right that our behavior is based in Nature.  This means ultimately, most of us won't be satisfied for long performing behaviors that are not suited to our own natures.  Our inside person has goals of its own and to ignore them or suppress them, even in the face of certain self-defeat, because in your heart you know you cannot change the downward course you are traveling, it is more self-defeating to try to make something work that is not naturally designed to work for you forever.  This "game" we play with ourselves has multitudes of applications, and all of them are metaphors for the external experience on this journey.  Look at Globalism and the global enthusiasts, it doesn't work and yet, they cling to the plan in full denial exactly as this nation clings to its failed energy policy.  It is the same with Climate Change, the legal system, foreign policy, etc.

Lately, I am of a mind that oneness, being alone, is the solution to the lifelong dilemma of pairing.  We are all going to be alone in time anyway, alone in death, alone in our minds, as we've always been alone in our innermost thoughts, and it is those innermost thoughts that drive us towards anything worthwhile, healthy and beneficial, to ourselves and especially to others.  If we did not have the capacity to hear this voice, our very survival as a species would immediately dissolve. In this economy, living alone is a luxury few can afford and there is certainly a great argument for doubling up while making ends meet, but again, it is a rare friendship living under one roof that can balance it peaceably for very long because we are, after all, critical thinking individuals with long-established requirements for just how our lives are to be lived.  It is the reason communes didn't work very well.  There is always someone with a surprisingly rigid mindset, then go with the flow flys out the window as incessant interference grates and sets limits, building fences around what can and cannot be undertaken or discussed rationally without the reliving of historical hurts distorting whatever was the original intent.

We are, if nothing else, bundles of unconscious memories constantly reminding our unconscious selves of our  lifetime total of hard-learned lessons.  All of our interactions with others are based on childhood patterns designed for self-protection which for the most part, are not recognized easily.  That is why loss in love hurts us intensely, it can make you feel crazy, it makes some people suffer so badly they act out in ways they would never do otherwise, you can even say that kind of pain is the last gasp of a dying dream into which you invested the deepest, purest parts of yourself thinking all along you were finally a part of something real, something you were trained to desire as confirmation of personal worth as far back as early adolescence, when all the while it was merely a mutual physical illusion that a manufactured false desire bore reality, the probability of impossibility would not be yours, self actualization loomed.

The truth is the ideal of romantic love is pounded into our psyche from birth, adopted and capitalized on by savvy marketeers for an expanding variety of very profitable entertainment industries.  We buy into all of it before our minds are formed and are bombarded by the fantasy from every direction, intensifying especially during the normal hormonal phase vital for procreation of the species, hitting us in so many snarky ways I won't bother to mention them, but be assured, no one escapes. 

We could avoid the tragedy in a parting of the ways by simply playing musical chairs until the music stops and then start over again.  There are lots of nice, bright people out there who would love to get to know us better.  I can personally vouch for that having traveled often and far.  Occasionally, I've found myself feeling like a mail order bride, yes, there really are many eager and lonely people oblivious to the sham of pairing off as the last answer to their suffering of the spirit.  Oh, they bunch up, feel wonderful for awhile until the very natural human flaws of the involved begin to show and then others, outsiders, gradually command their attention as "Hey, wow, there's the real answer" and the music starts all over again.  However, that band does not play for eternity.  And for more people than is acknowledged, the band doesn't play at all.  What does this tell you?

As far as I know, there is only One Love.  It is compassionate love, it knows nothing of spite or of holding secrets or half truths or complete fabrications or petty deceits or vengeance behind the curtain, it just IS and cannot be distorted into anything other than what it is.  When you accept it as it is without the malarky there is no pain.  You know it when you meet it, you know it when its in you and you can recognize its absence clearly if you listen to what your innermost voice has to say.  And to listen well, you  need silence, time and harmony with your surroundings.  You already have all the answers, they just need you to understand them.

There is nothing wrong with Nature, there is nothing wrong with us.  We are stripmined just as Nature is stripmined, our feelings are a spectacular resource and like everything else in today's extreme world, very little stands the test of time being based on vanity and illusion.  When you really get it, and I mean when you are so completely solid with your own spirituality, you do not need the opinions of anyone else to assure you that you are worthy of love because you love yourself already with the same forthright compassion you love others.

as we go on

By now, I'm sure you're hip to Survival Acres.  I've always been fond of John's way with words, perhaps its that weird, inexplicable ministry background infrequently referred to in his work.  John's opinion on the evolutionary phenomena of  information sharing is right on the money and insightful in that my enchantment with the web diminishes in parallel with the exponential rise of social networks, tech toys, apps and everything that is nothing less than sheep's ear tags for the identification of which herd belongs to which plantation and are they stupid enough yet, i.e.; finished fully, for the slaughterhouse?  I do hope authors don't mind my brevity, I've done this before in comment links, when I nutshell a sort of boost for their labor by saying John doesn't mince words or overlook a particular iconic angle in the current zeitgeist even when others will perceive it as just another part of the background noise, its like white noise now, hypnotic, where it is what-it-is and it has no impact on anything happening out there and a worsening impact on what is happening inside.  On a lengthy sabbatical in the Nevada desert, I lived not far from the drone nativity colony during which not a day passed I wasn't awakened by drones in training.  They whine.  Imagine a nightmarish Ellen Ripley-style drooling Alien, whining.  All these recent stories in the media about the sudden use of drones on American soil are paychecks being collected for clicking on the press releases in their email.  I was told by the locals in 2006, very nearly six years ago, in no uncertain terms, drones honed-in on a prison escapee inside an aqueduct which showed on the thermal sensor as a bright red line around the prisoner's seemingly hidden body. 

Lying is ubiquitous from birth.  We exit the womb into feeling-censored expression.  Take a typical day and see if you can intermingle with a varied mix of personalities, including yourself, and see how many lies you hear and how many you tell.  There is courtesy ... and then there is compassion.  Both are on the wane with compassion actually being the real basis for love and for friendship, as the two are one.  Then there is the disappointment one leaves themselves open to in showing the real self and finding whomever it is that you are interacting with won't go there and no matter how you try, there is no reciprocation.  Of course we know there is a way, but few dare to tread that path for long, however heroic.  The only saving grace I've ever found that works every time is Struggle On, life is about learning and if its truth you seek and truth you discover, it is a blessing regardless of the occasion.  Even then, you cannot fix another person, you can only understand.  With someone you are close to, understanding knows no limits unless you are being endangered which sounds a lot like the situation we are living through at this very moment in time, taking place up there under the stage lights of the main arena, the lame new world.  We read, we interpret, we read more, we see the illusion come to life, we actually see the catch pens under construction, there can be no doubt and yet, it just goes on, it drones and whines and eats itself only to come out the other end as worse than it went in.  Somehow, just when it appears the worst is upon us still we are able to reach for some rosy part of the day to lift us above the rabble into that sweet change where the air is fit to breathe and the soul is stirred.  Bholanath's Wildlife Center and 'hood pics of the animals and avian families do it for me.  So does Jimi Hendrix with Red House (over yonder).

It is extraordinarily rare to come across a person who is completely straight all the way regardless of  circumstance, situation, dialogue in any and all relationships.  We strive for this and too frequently fall short.  This is a facet of the human condition, but being of the human species doesn't require that we cannot learn from our animal teachers. 

Today I found a fallen Hawk, as magnificent a creature in death as in life, and carried him by his legs to a picturesque soft spot away from the road where his soul would enter the Animal Kingdom in natural peace. His lower backside was black charred, otherwise he was perfectly intact leading me to think perhaps he had some accident atop the phone pole, a favored place to hang while hunting.  I'm hearing this kind of electrical equipment has to be grounded, so I can't explain the nasty burn.  All that can be said about it is whatever happened, this true feathered monarch came in contact with something unnatural.  In other words, he bumped up against the anthropogenic system and it cost him as it always costs all who meet with bumps.  What is unusual and wildly prevalent are those who choose to participate in the entertainments, the circuses such as boxing, rodeos, Nascar, casinos and porn.  These things are different worlds of territorial testosterone gone to extremes enabled by the highest bidder.  This too is all another avenue of spectacular riches and occupies the fascinations of a huge part of the worshiping public with whom we interact making all that shared information gathered over the years absolutely worthless in changing the ways we are impacted in order to proceed through this journey.

The Internet has only pointed out in starker terms what has always been happening.  Before the web, sometimes we heard it might be happening, now we read it happens regularly as if each event, crime, scam, rip, enslavement, hustle is brand new, but it has always been the vicious writhing mass of tortured secrets and inhumanity compounded with greater heights of inhumanity that you see unfolding before you now.  It has no repair.  Beauty and contentment are where you find them.  You must take the steps to your own freedom.  As I have said, compassion is the magic key. But like all keys, sometimes it is lost and you have to figure out where you left it and how you could possibly find it again in these times.  Recently, I lost mine and got a case of serious trepidations racing back to the spot where I last remembered having it.  A woman I'd never met drove up behind me, shouting "I've got your keys!"  Sure enough, she'd even left a note at the spot. Keys, cards and ID were safe and as I took note of the excited children in her SUV (and obvious lookalike family members visiting for Christmas) the warm glow of gratitude enveloped me enough to hug her and leave the scene spiritually intact.   I felt like I could post again.  Breathe again.  Kiss the dogs and hug the Oaks, fall on my knees in prayer for the Hawk that his body rest in peace and his soul fly on.  That my friends I've never met are unknown multitudes of the ones already visiting, feeling just like us and deserving of whatever, small comfort we bring each other in these times of terror, joy, lies, loss of dignity and respect, humiliation, confusion, ecstasy, despair, etc., stepping away from extremes into our own personal freedom to speak what is on our mind and share what is in our hearts or simply dwell.

In truth, we can step out of the noise anytime, it isn't us, it holds not a scintilla of reality, so why be in it at all? It is not important to puff up ourselves with the Dangerous Life being offered through technology, the mob, sensationalistic media and titillating headlines and the people who believe it all and seemingly know no better, as if there is only one way to live, one way to love, one way to gain, if they know what it is to gain, seeing only the gain that morphs itself into loss, fully blank when it comes to deep wells of purity available everywhere yet invisible, but the life-giving source from which all must drink if it means anything to experience the years full of changes spent on Planet Earth.  Everything we learn about each other reinforces the observation that no one is immune without inflicting great damage to themselves.

Whatever 2012 has in store for our planet, since we have survived so much already only to arrive here at this time of witnessing, there is not much that could take it away.  And if there was something, some disaster, something tragic, have we not weathered these storms before and before that?  I have watched the sun rise dawn over the mast discovering my low little sloop sailing in a school of sharks off the southern coast of the Dominican Republic, I have lost power on a windless day over knife-craggy reefs breaking the sea surface and figured out how to bleed a diesel while rocking back and forth as the water slapped the beam.  I have held on for 6 hours to a T-Bar in a blizzard looking down at snowy treetops singing Calypso, Sparrow tunes actually, and walked on single train tracks above the surly canyons of British Columbia, stared down the barrel of a gun held by a hostile dealer and wrecked motorcycles on Riverside Drive at rush hour, leading me to think 2012 will be interesting if anything... May the New Year be the best ever for each person reading here.

If wishes grew on trees...

One Love

one mind is a revolution

It is unconsciously understood by logical people that panic is the least effective response to crisis whether it be creeping-crisis, mid-crisis or post-crisis, panic has nothing to offer and everything to worsen whatever problematic situation affects our human experience in general.  Panic is a physical state where the trembling imagination swings into overdrive fantasizing often impossible possibilities all of which magnify the potential for cascading disaster, making whatever is happening into extremes of personal damage especially inclusive of what the term damage represents to the particular individual in crisis.  (dam-age, i.e.; capture and block the natural progression of life) If you happen to be standing near someone in panic you will be subject to all the exponential multiples of why you too should join in.  If you happen to bear some guilt related to the crisis incident, however minor or drastic, you will understand the contagion of panic and if your mind is on straight, you will note the futility of such behavior and instead do the right thing to resolve whatever is taking place that is causing panic, especially when panic is expressed among a wide variety of people, many of whom have no ability to rise above their fears to see what is actually taking place.

Since the dawn of the governed and governors, forcing panic is the favored tool for control of the slaves.  However, panic, torturous and nonproductive, backfires when overused as it has been continuously, now more than ever before thanks to the mass mind whipped into frenzy by masquerading oxymoronic analytic punditry.  Think George Anthony, according to his alleged mistress's testimony, in a state of panic after his granddaughter drowns in the family pool, "It was an accident that snowballed out of control."  Think of the Orthodox hardware store stocker, who when he heard of the search for missing eight year-old Leibby Kletzy, likely seated quietly waiting for his ride to the Judaic bookstore, panicked and kills him, dismembering the defenseless child body and distributes the pieces in various locations.  You have to ask what happened!  The logical mind, cool under pressure, aware through multitudes of precarious circumstance, wants to know what would have happened if instead, someone had the wherewithal to do the right thing because on the other side of the moment is another moment, life comes in waves, and the next moment could have brought resolution rather than enlarging the hemorrhaging of panic.

It is helpful to be aware that nearly everything, perhaps all of what we hear coming from anyone who thinks themselves somehow more powerful, more Darwinianly "fit" for survival than ourselves, is inducement to panic.  The intent is to have you become a follower, to lean on them for your every need eliminating any positive activities on your part, resulting in a sort of expansion of predatory power to suck you into any agenda that without the element of panic, is an agenda with which you would never have any involvement at all. It is the pressure to panic the populations that has created the very stupid situation the westernized world finds itself inside today.  True believers have swallowed it all and refuse to see beyond the immediate.  An excellent point made recently by Arthur Silber discussing Stockholm Syndrome was that of whatever relief we are allowed during the induced panic state is generally often viewed as a kindness thus leading us deeper into darker dungeons of torture and cruelty.

Once one achieves a certain level of spiritual development, induced panic has no effect.  They might as well put that tool away now because as far as we overstand the national crisis, whatever effects are supposed to occur cannot take place without creating freak outbursts among the population at large that has become helpless and terribly confused so that any positive action that could be taken during the course of panic resolution appears in the imagination as the wrong action since any action at all is punishable by any means from instant penury to permanent social status as pariah/outcast or grossly disturbed mentally deficient to capital punishment by multiple injections of paralyzing chemical compounds.  A person succumbed to panic naturally thinks he is damned if he does and damned if he doesn't and then whatever course of action follows rips off the bandages and unravels the stitches of social cohesion, bleeding all over everything making healing very nearly impossible.

I've noticed there are people who are entirely responsible to themselves and in direct contact at all times with the truth that terrorizing them is wasted energy. And certainly there are times when those same people are faced with genuine crisis, but having had experiences and understandings of those experiences unique to themselves, never panic.  In other words, once you have died, you no longer fear death.  Stated further, once you have allowed yourself to live fully, why would you fear death?

In perhaps the most glaring illustrations yet of how bizarre the governing process has become, these freak outbursts within the ranks tells us all we need to know to move on and leave the jackals quarreling over their kills.  They overused the tools and fail to see themselves as berserk and pitiful grappling over spoils.  We see them committing career suicides and it means everything to the mass mind, but what does it mean to us?  Its supposed to mean TEOTWAWKI, but it does not.  Life is everywhere, life is what we make it, peace is where we find it and dwells within us if only we are strong enough to stop handwringing and see it all for what it is.  Sometimes, you want to put a hand on their shoulder and say, hey, get a grip there fella, but you don't dare unless you want to face off with snarling monsters in which case, winning with your life intact is definitely not an option.


I agree they make it hard to get there, but it is that difficulty that makes our journey ultimately worthwhile.  If you achieve nothing else in this lifetime, to achieve inner peace regardless of predators and their freak offspring, the mass mind, you will have achieved a legacy worth the heartache of having been here.

The morass of legalities, justice and vengeance foisted upon the hapless for the ugly intention described above can be simplified and vastly improved by sticking to one easy rule taken to heart and always intended, Do No Harm.  How we could ever get into that headspace now is a truly tedious, mind-numbing complexity that few will take the time to consider or even view as rational thought, except there is no alternative.  If we cannot see the harm intended and where it is taking humanity, we will shortly extinct ourselves into oblivion exactly as is happening in real time.  It is now more important to terrorize each other than explore the heavens.  It has been coming on for ages, our ridiculous, tragic destiny to undermine humanity so that one portion appears to themselves, superior.  And you know, it doesn't have to be that way if you, in your own heart, refuse to allow it any room to manifest.

If you are a new reader, it goes without saying you should not be confused between the mass mind and the one mind.  There is literally an entire universe of difference.

holy daze

Rosie 7.5.11

We went nowhere this holiday and did nothing one would call serious work with the exception of my painting and usual chores because going nowhere is the cheapest alternative to going somewhere as well as the safest.  Who knows what lurks out there in these times?  What costly experience awaits one in the hours to come if we actually put ourselves into one of those public scenes of the sweaty herds squeezed tightly into stadium seats watching whatever circus is playing all the while unaware you may well be the next act?  No, the real excitement is at home interacting with the animals whose intelligence continues to awe.  A new sheep has been added to the herd, Rosie, the Blue Ewe.  She looks very much the Suffolk, but under that blushing cream wool, her coat is black which means black lambs because Amos aka Ram-beau, has fallen in love.  Its no wonder, she's quite a classy lady with her skinny black stockings and thick ruff setting off her chiseled cheekbones, although since I've been comparing her closely with the other Ewes, Scarlett and Bella, undeniably classic Suffolks, they all have wonderfully sculptured faces with individual visual treats for the interested observer.  Rosie just arrived over the weekend and Monday any celebration was all about her immediate integration with the family.  What's more, she was given a new name upon arrival and when I call her to come using "Rosie", she comes right over.  She's picked up the whole routine.  There is something going on that tells her this is not a brief boarding situation, not a feed lot, this is home. 

You already know I can't talk about the animals without mentioning Stella, the Mustang Princess, ever watchful, giving us the love whinny whenever our kitchen door creaks on its hinges, day or night.  She and I are at that stage now, the one I've patiently waited to arrive.  That stage would be the one Pangolin suggested we go for when the moment was right.  We put our heads together trading breaths.  Thanks Pangolin.  A beautiful and holy experience for which there are no words in our language to describe.  A final word on the holiday, perhaps one of the loveliest, indoors, ceiling fans blowing off the outside world of chemtrails and Big Ag's smog snaking through the passes, the dogs were served vanilla ice cream and ice cubes in the water bowl.  Some might say what a dull holiday nina, I would say Hey, that's my idea of the good life well lived.

You can see why scheduled posting to a blog on a plastic flip top box takes a back seat.  Oh, certainly I put my time in just as you do.  Except there is nothing to know.  Mind you, I've looked.  Sure, there is stuff, hieroglyphics symbolizing spoken tongue, but there really isn't anything going on you don't already know is going on.  Its very wicked out there beyond our little enclave of peace and frequent joy.  Every time I look across the mountains past the valley, the mushrooms are bigger, more poisonous, and there are more of them.  These are not your nice mushrooms, no.  Just about everything and everyone is in the process of some kind of melt down, its not pretty nor is it in any way conducive to peace.  Perhaps once we are all on the precipice of extinction will we be able to see a vast expanse of absolutely nothing and call it peaceful?  As if the full, completed derealization of formerly heavily consuming consumers and imaginary enemies worsened by the unforgiving mass mind might we find freedom with nothing left to buy or pay for, nothing left to fear, never being forced into giving unwilling support to unnatural activity, the vanishing of usury for our very breath of life.  That once the entire promise of the corporate mission statement had been fulfilled there would be nowhere else for them to go but to evaporate, the gates of our corrals could open and freedom to live and love, appreciate and steward the Earth as it was always meant to be would happen naturally, season into season... that anxiety and misinterpretation, quarreling within our species, possessing, lying, guilt, petty deceits, perhaps that would simply disappear and we could finally get it on with other planets without the usual self-righteousness, claims staking, false glories and so forth, just as you are you and I am me and there is no difference between us in reality. 

A few years ago Visible put up an essay basically asking what we, the reader, planned on bringing to the table during and in the aftermath of Apocalyptic events.  This would of course, be the real proof of our pudding.  Therefore, it was especially heartening to see some of the residents of Joplin, MO, already rebuilding their homes as the light of dawn arrived to helicams and pundits and tsunami-style destruction.  They were not waiting for insurance appraisers nor some political celebrity to tell them they were in a state of emerge and see.  They were not spray painting the relocated bathtubs in day glow orange begging for attention.  Whatever happened to our species that we insist upon a self-appointed authority figure to tell us what we already know and when they do look to them as the coming of Christ Almighty?  That we caved ourselves into mewling accomplices by begging alms?  My response to Visible's essay has not changed at all, it never will, the more backwards, incongruous and impossible it becomes, the more intact my root position which is that of exercising the one element that can never be lifted, hijacked or co-opted from the Love Tribe, Nurturing.  That's all it is and it IS our saving grace.  One cannot nurture anything without pure, unbiased communication with that requiring nurturing.  All species and complex vegetable matter must know they are cherished to grow healthy into maturity whether it is us providing direct nurturing or the nurturing they provide one another.  This is the essence of the line in the 23rd Psalm, posted recently, Yea though I walk through the Valley of the shadow, our work is cut out for us.  A lot of our species, a lot of all species, are getting hit brutally and when this happens, there must be some of us around to heal and explain.  Otherwise there would be no point at all to having survived the journey, which is tragically the point we are supposed to accept and I object.  To accept is to say nothing has value.  Nothing.  To accept is to say we are born into consciousness where we flop around until we die.

The Lesson from the Plum Tree:
Last winter one of the Oriental Plum trees appeared lost.  The snows weighted his boughs and he fell to the ground where he lay frozen under drifts until spring.  The Fireteacher dug him out, I'd tried but needed more bicep, he lifted the scraggly guy out, redug his bed and sprinkled plant food where the tap root would be placed and tamped the Earth over the food and around the base of the tree, tying the trunk to stakes so the tree would stand.  That was months ago it seems.  I've been watering him delicately, chatting all along, encouraging, smoothing his wounds with my fingertips and over the past two weeks bundles of sweet little leaves suddenly appeared.  His spring buds are late, he probably won't do showy flowers this year either, but it matters not at all.

The World Beyond:
With the incredibly beautiful exceptions of those with whom we form mental connection, trust, lifelong love and appreciation, within any and all species, that other world, the World Beyond, is nowhere.  A huge meaningless void of false urgency on its way into oblivion.  Remember your job, its the only job that is worth doing because there is nothing else.  If you can possibly imagine anything more thrilling than living your true purpose, I'd like to hear about it.

A final word on the outcome of the TotMom Debacle, due you of course, since my last two entries centered on crude circus behavior - now that the object of hatred for the mass mind, fundamentally inspired by gnashing pundits themselves twisted by their own wishful thinking, seeking higher and higher ratings and vast acknowledgement of their celebrity appeal, stumbling over one another analyzing every facial tick and supposed legal trick delivered at ear-torturing volume with over zealous beached hair jobs, Korean nails, stark evidence of various youth-preserving cosmetic surgeries and an astounding absence of sensitivity toward their fellows has been found Not Guilty and will NOT be lethally injected, law enforcement has roadblocked entry into the family's suburban Orlando neighborhood, obviously the mass mind is clamoring excitedly for a little Strange Fruit.  But who are they angry with now?  Can it be they are suddenly left lacking an object of hatred, can it be they will now have to look to themselves and the absurd situations in which they exist, unemployed and underwater, facing diminishing resources and expiring incomes, empty dreams and giant metal pods sitting on dehydrating front lawns jammed to the gills with stuff they have no use for now and never did?  Oh, of course not...
Someone ought to figure out how to harness all that wasted energy.

Bondye se gade

It takes a keen mind to perceive that what we have here is a conundrum, a riddle with a joke as the punchline.  It doesn't have to be funny, especially when the joke is on us.  The joke is how far away we've veered from what IS.  Oh, we've veered far.  Maybe on your first visit to a shrink you might have stated your reason for undergoing shrinking was not being able to tell the difference between reality and fantasy.  And maybe he/she asked in nonthreatening tones that you define, as best you were able, reality.  Even then you could have realized how such a question is not very different than trying to define normal.

 ... science acquires a certain comical swagger for making things you can squeeze out of tubes, in order to process the contents through other tubes that process the contents into waste products. ...  Love in the Time of the Hadron Collider, by Visible

Not a day goes by I don't think about how toyish and absurd the present has become and like you, examine the reasons why this happened and more, what can we do about it?  Maybe our complaint has something subliminal to do with a lack of communication between the past and the present, as if our ancestors would please step forward now and show us how they lived without constant nonsense.  Surely they would find our convenience and comfort inventions, such as a tie-on shearling toilet seat cover, insane. Perhaps they would be glad they didn't stick around longer.

The Internet is a another conundrum for all of us who labor in creation sharing online be it words, art, information, poetry, music, because we've learned the net has some kind of master off switch accessible to heads of state and more, in a post Apocalyptic world (The Road alert, The Book of Eli alert) all of our published efforts will vanish into that nebulous place they call Cyberspace, perhaps the Yucca Mountain of moons, never to be recovered, just hidden behind planets and overlaid with dust rings.  You can say that's impossible, the Internet is here to stay, but we all know its just another one of those technological variations made of petroleum derivatives and precious metals, it might as well have been made of whatever is squeezed out of those tubes Visible brought to our attention, all of which will no doubt disrupt the rediscovery of reality again and again until reality liquidates your personal space. 

Not that there is any such thing as heh, personal space anymore.  Yes, there once was, but that was only more of the lunacy much like This is mine, that is yours, except if it comes from the Earth, its not either of ours and since Everything comes from Earth, well ... Only if you'd bought into the entire fantasy would you think you possessed anything other than your own mind/body and even those are up for question.  It remains another chapter in the universal conundrum why people can't see the immensely evil violations committed through false possession.  And yet, the excuses for doing so are specifically designed to point out the vacancy in an intellect you actually possess.  This is one of the hard parts of being a love person, we are easy to take advantage of and this feature is not lost on those who love to hate, use, take advantage, ridicule, lie to and steal from.  It thrills them to convince themselves they are smarter than you to whomever they desire to impress, mostly themselves, with their quickness of mind and attache of predictable criticisms.

... Alyosha was convinced that there was not a man in the world who would wish to offend him or, for that matter, could offend him.  He had accepted that once and for all as a self-evident truth, and so he had no misgivings ... The Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoevsky

Love people simply cannot be offended.  They may experience a brief confusion during attack since any attack worthy of your attention contains truth upended, as in a full polar shift, but the fundamental mind/body of a love person always understands from where and why any attack comes.  It comes from buried pain experienced somehow, somewhere in vague flickers of the past belonging to an attacker, deep, unrealized and covered over with layer upon layer of dirt and drivel burying any hope reality could possibly surface as long as this thing we call western civilization with all of its ridiculous trappings exists.  In order for a departure in reality to prevail, you need a military industrial economy with attack personalities designated, among themselves, as official pack leaders.  You need a common mindset of Possession, a sort of me only wrongheaded survival tactic writ large, very, very large, large enough to present an overall appearance of total agreement that by necessity black is white and vice versa.

It was never a good plan to purchase control of human lives, translated for the incurious as "aid" when the real strategy all along has been funneling Earth's resources to distant locations where there are slim to none.  It was a guarantee that given enough time, the plan would self-destruct.  Everything not borne from reality destructs with enough latitude - which is where we find ourselves today.  When virtual reality falls, everything goes with it into the Black Hole, there is no discrimination.  So few, perhaps no one at all, have any idea how to replace the social order of corruption with a mutually beneficial cooperation between ourselves and the planet, i.e.; reality.  We think we know, but reality will prove us wrong. We don't actually know anything for certain. Leadership authorizing possession of entire peoples is a tried and true impossibility.  Fairness and cooperation with Nature could have only been possible starting from the day the composition of the Earth spawned life, not now.  Reality has been made silly, vulnerable to ridicule and punishment, punishments insisting on your allegiance and dependence on what mankind has made of itself, a bloated monster killing machine looting, thieving, possessing and controlling, incessantly reproducing variants on the theme with petroleum-based, easily breakable and lost, tiny, seemingly insignificant plastic parts and variations of zeitgeist languages and mores that have lost any semblance of reality whatsoever, the more reality attempts emergence, the more omnipresent the tubes, tubed band aids on top of soul gashing wounds fracking through the globe. 

The categorization of phenotypes, skin colors and nationalities, the fiction of borders and property divisions, credit ratings, purchasing power and the swarms of fantasy industries and localized dictatorships that arise in the crevices like roach infestations, feeding off the primary illusory elements, only lead us deeper into make-believe. Tinseltown's red carpet, high style, creative direction, sports figure idolatry, bargain bonanzas, tweeting, political partisanship, speeches, anthems and invocations, amazing stuff, isn't it?  And all of it beholden to boardroom charts.  Love people could definitely waver in this never-ending torrent of idiocy emulated throughout the globe, but it won't last indefinitely.  The stagelights are dimming under the heat generated by their bizarre creations, oversexed-over-population and over-consumption.  At this moment we're seeing a glistening thick Roy G. Biv climate chaos rainbow breaking over the horizon through the once impenetrable fog of sheer nonsense.  Something is downloading as we speak and its not what it initially appears, it is impossible to define until it shows itself in full.

We do not need psychedelics to understand this.  We only need quiet thoughts, and we need to remain aware of those thoughts so they are not fleeting.  The co-opted psychedelia, the personalities, the raves and the newer, evermore powerful reality alterations have been reigning down upon our culture in phosphorescent colors, stealing our attentions and robbing all under the influence, further distorting lives in a distorted, disoriented world.  While we were entertained with sumptuous pleasures, we inadvertently added to the foolishness, only in this way can we bear some responsibility.  Little did we realize or care we were being taken advantage of in broad daylight as dawn rose in the west and the appearance of normalcy still stood even though we knew it couldn't possibly be so, but it was.  As the years passed and keeping up with the insanity "culture" continued enlarged, the vulnerability of the little people was ripe for the take.  If they could get away with it here and there, why not do it again! Its happened so many times we cannot count them all or ever know of most of them, they are excluded from "education" and media, but this time it is different.  Through massive overpopulation we have exceeded the planet's carrying capacity yet the pillars of extreme possession stand firmly in place to ensure the continuity of over-consumption. This is the new reality.  The kinds of deviations and concealments practiced now will never have an opportunity to reoccur after they self-extinct and as you have noticed, they are self-extincting at this very moment and for some reason known only to the Forces, we are in the middle of it all. 

I'm not so sure there is any cause to celebrate or inch towards optimism.  What I'm seeing in the sudden protests in so many locations suggests foment by an entity behind them all desirous of removing less cooperative, leeching dictators and replacing them with younger, less expensive, fresh puppetry ready to acquiesce to their masters in a fashion similar to Wall Street rotating its heavy muscle from private enterprise to the halls of the superpower.   The repeating irony of these revolutons in the hearts and minds of the participants are pitted against what people think they want (or what they've been tutored to demand) and what people actually need. Added to this irony is the gross reversal of the people's real primary needs into leaderships' agenda, always helped along through behind-the-scenes finagling, with foreign policies coming at them from all sides, creating an untenable situation because again, they are not based in reality.

They are based in obsequious transference of wealth and finite resources.  Reality is health, reality is enough nutritious food to sustain the body, clean air, fresh unadulterated water, the fruits of Mother Earth for all species on the planet, trusting relationships with family, friends, the world at large including animals, sea creatures and bird life, legal stewardship of Nature, moderation in all things and the God given freedom to live in a peaceful state without interference and love, in all the ways that matter to you, loving the Earth, loving mankind, loving your activities, loving the land enough to refrain from overbuilding, love of our fellows enough to do unto others as you would have them do unto you, love of our offspring enough to leave them a lovable world so they too may love life enough as it is without costuming it or dividing it or trampling it according to the dictates of possession and its abusive dangling participles, fear and punishment.

So blind and far along in the madness, exponentially encouraging the Culture of Extinction (thanks, Charles) with vanity and pompous over-consumption, reduced to never ending war for the survival of the fantasy in the very face of undeniable climate chaos, our battle appears futile, but while we won't see much progress, it is of huge consequence. Even if the planet doesn't make it, Bondye se gade, Creole for God is watching, as are his other inhabitants of the Universe.

Let's say for discussion purposes, that God isn't watching.  If you are an authentic love person grounded in the reality of what IS, it would not change anything for you, because the power is your own, within, to love, to nurture, to understand, to feel for others, to care and to give whatever you have in any way you can.  You would have long ago accepted your own strength of character, once and for all time, as self-evident truth.