Erin and Esteban asked me to include some words for our late poet, neil's book, currently in process. I believe, but do not know for a fact, it is an anthology of his poetry gathered over several years from the many jewels he scattered widely across the blogs. A number of readers of this blog were equally as fond of him as I was and very likely have something to say as well. If you would like to add your own expression to mine, we can send it together to Erin and Est. My email address is in my profile, just scroll down on the right sidebar.
Bags of Love par avion
neil sent them to me
they arrived by Fedex
at my doorstep
like foil wrapped bon bons
and long stemmed roses
from half a world away
from neil's world of struggle
and loneliness
and rejection, frustration,
local women were a problem
none could be relied upon
to say what they really felt
until it was over
He longed for honesty
because he could never be anything but.
so we gave him honesty in turn
although it was known to be displayed
across the globe
anyway, that wasn't even an afterthought
his honesty
so golden, blush and bird's egg blue
speckled with starlight and moonbeams
an honesty that could save mankind
they say such purity doesn't exist
It existed/exists
we were there, in the right place at the right time
to witness and participate
and take it to our heart of hearts
neil is/was my heartbroken
little boy of Dickens come to life
navigating narrow cobblestone streets
thick with Prufrock sawdust and
yellow fog
in a cap and tattered knickers facing
life out of his chippy's tattered van
homeless it was almost as if
there was nowhere to just be
sometimes his chips were down
And then, a gathering renaissance
rainbows beamed Monet gardens spilt over
into lapis lazuli rivers reflecting moonbeams
his vision clear, his darkness spent
his pastures' promise in the air
everywhere I looked
his writings on the wall
here, here and there and there
positive acknowledgements
arranging the love gathering towards
an indefinite purpose
some sweet finite destination
lay close at hand
And now of course we know
***
In reflection of the spirit
living inside my Dickens Goodheart
in this mortal world of mortal adversaries
in this bleeding, unnatural, world of universal mayhem
and deceit
neil chose a better place
his soul so clean uncompromising
unblemished
rerouted to the higher plane
all karma paid.
peace...
Showing posts with label the Fluid Universe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the Fluid Universe. Show all posts
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Saturday, May 11, 2013
we can do this now
The Trout Clan's Murph and Freeacre, have had a disastrous fire wiping out their formerly exquisite property made by holding hands with Nature. I don't know the details of how it began, but they are in the midst of starting over which has been held back as usual by the ARGHHHH insurance industry. Please see their new post and offer what you can by way of assistance in any and all areas to speed healing. We know them to be an incredibly hard working and resilient couple and I have no doubt they will, at some point in the future, discover this disaster as a blessing in disguise.
Let's help them however we can, even if it is only through your good words, I am sure it will help. Thank you.
Let's help them however we can, even if it is only through your good words, I am sure it will help. Thank you.
Wednesday, April 04, 2012
"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.
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 family and fledgelings 24 hr webcam
turn on your speakers
from Bholanath, righteous.
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 |
turn on your speakers
from Bholanath, righteous.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
The farce flying in the face of quicksand
Among the over-aggressive, fatuitous people who hitched their fates to the Illusion, the impossibility of continuance somehow came to them in subconscious, fleeting, here today, gone tomorrow moments and slowly took off in viral whispers over flutes of outrageously expensive champagne in the highest places to the point it no longer mattered if there were endings or beginnings or even the mildest concern if a nation crumpled and then another and another, all of them failing by definition of a failed state, definitions designed by and for the Illusion, such failures were and are ubiquitously welcomed as the natural free progression towards fabulous opportunity for the successful predator, the very most successful, the King of all Predators being, of course, M-a-n. A certain kind of man, belonging to a violent alien hybrid ethnicity perhaps.
At first, and for decades, it appeared and still does for the vast majority of helpless, confused slaves, that all, yes, every single one of the looming and dire threats facing our planet were being deliberately twisted, thrown into the Diversion Cellars of media conglomerates, misaligned by the most inconsequential, miniscule shards of truth and misrepresented to the public resulting in entire mountain ranges of false opinion based on yesterday's garbage. This body of opinion existed, and still does, to occupy the space in the human mind organically reserved for natural curiosity. How could it be, asked the worried slave, that a steady lineup of supposedly human models stands eagerly before the global camera bickering, misspeaking, yukking it up and putting forth agendas that would only serve to make a bad situation worse? That ever since climate change showed itself, the poisonous atmosphere has multiplied beyond record, that ever since awareness of a debt crisis was allowed, country by country is folding under pressure, that once it became obvious we were in deep trouble with peaking energy, there is more energy demand than ever before, and how could Fukushima's Chernobyl-style meltdowns occur with so little concern for the coming Cancers? How 'bout a little statistic on Afghan civilians wanting endless drone war? And why is it, asked the corn-fed children of the fructose-consuming slaves, all those regal leaders are running around bare ass naked, why, when its plain to see everyone's suffering is multiplying exponentially, do they keep on doing all those awful things? Who will punish them, who is not a part of the dark side, why are they immune to sanctions and death penalties? Even the little children, born into it, as busy as they are with their junior tech toys and belt bearing parents, can feel something is off while their meals consist of freeze dried doughy soylent green, but they are made to memorize the food pyramid in class. Oh, what to do? How do you answer to the kids? Would YOU personally cover for the Abusers? Um, I don't think so. You'll have to break it to them soon enough because out there in the big, big world, children not much older than those still under the discomfort of an underwater mortgaged roof are enduring recovery from in your face pepper spray dished out by the very dudes whose united motto is to protect and serve.
Who is being protected and who is serving whom?
Now, as yet another no fly zone is beginning the dogmatic excesses of being sealed into place over yet another wayward Arab Spring gone beastly, and the drumbeats against Iran grow into timpanic membrane-shattering thunder, we review these past decades as normal curious slaves and begin at last to fill in that difficult corner section of a trillion piece jigsaw puzzle. It would be easier to see through the fog if Black Everyday is a Shopping Holiday consumerism weren't equally as deafening in heightened contrast. Buy! Buy! Kill! Kill! While teetering malls track slaves by cellphone supposedly building statistics on what individual consumers do, where and how often inside gargantuan weather-less energy whales, why have we not heard of tracking the deadly results of Fukushima's meltdowns? Why is it off the radar to get statistics for the future of Niger's youth, Somalian famine devastation and what in the world is going on now that spawned enemy plantation overseers are deep sixed, in the dark of night, keeping the believers out of the fantasia media loop? When you start a story and the follow up is this weak, how are intentionally created, addicted to fake news slaves supposed to keep up with the full presentation? Every day, many times in a day, stuff happens. The news web revolves and spins with beginnings, but where are the endings? And the behind the scenes paragraphs and middle passages to keep up the interest? We're not supposed to know. We are supposed to be shopping, that is IF we are not panhandling dirty welfare hippies, living off entitlements, unemployed, a detested drag on the Dream turned to someone else's worst nightmare.
There cannot be endings and definitely not coerced beginnings and middles. You'll have to forgo them. A real ending is final and reveals the horrific reality that It Is Over. They know it, the slaves are not allowed to know. Not since JFK have we had a decent person looking out for American interests as well as Humanity's interest. This IS how it happened, step by secret step, sinking deeper into the Apocalyptic quicksand we lost our way in repetitive negative reinforcement. It was not as much a pure awakening as a gradual realization over time that Planet Earth simply can not keep on functioning as it was and still to this day hobbles to do what it once did naturally, except it can not under the massive weight of too many gaping mouths and fattened wallets and bodies in various states of declining health, starvation of nutrients, we are like plants and need sunlight to survive, but the survival mechanism has been destroyed along with everything else. This situation will go on and on until it can no longer carry the appetites of the self-inflated vampires taking it for granted our Earth is indestructible, one gigantic, unlimited free for all, ripe for the taking, an ongoing infinite, nonstop rape. The ending of all the stories comes when the last man passes out from exhaustion on the last portion of decayed asphalt realizing, "Oh No!" He knew it all along and his dying wish is to have been more prepared, to have told someone in a postion to do something what it was he was seeing. It won't happen because until there is no one left, there will always be someone else who thinks they know better than the slave.
We will be the first humans to have three world wars within a single century and the toll of each serves to expedite the quicksand's lust. It is not for lack of something better to do that Astrophysicists are deseperate to find planets bearing water. The only question left once they close in on the real deal is: Has mankind learned ANY lessons? I doubt it. The Universe is already known to be violent, it portends rather a perfect ending, does it not? An ending with a brutal beginning, a metastasizing disease infecting galaxy after galaxy. Will they bring along the gift blankets? Is there a map of Black Holes yet?
Su is right in suggesting the internet will be closed down. We have to expect it along with the continued diminshment in the quality of life overall. Every avenue of repair, hope, possibility, escape and salvation will evaporate before our eyes as planetary austerity grows and overtakes every small, insignificant innocent being just going along minding their own business because they will never, ever tell us the truth since the truth implicates them beyond the shadow of doubt. They will never understand in such times guilt is not the issue, we've known for decades blame is not a tool for conflict resolution, forgiveness and restoration of the natural balance is appropriate here, but their fear is too great. The paranoia is so pervasive at every level, they throw patsy after patsy into the lion's den hoping the audience will be finally satiated and quit their irritating questions. It is this death match which will continue to put forth all the wrong, actually opposite efforts leading to predictable failure leading to extinction of human and other resources that once supported a grand and glorious opportunity now wasted so badly it is fully impossible to go back in time.
Be sure to hug your loved ones, human or animal or both and be grateful for the time left and make possible whatever happiness for others, no matter how small that happiness, that you can bring about. We are here in these extreme times for that reason only. And it is a beautiful reason, there is none more pure than sharing our love and maximizing our compassion. It seems to me that meltdown is built into every nuclear power plant online and is it not possible that all of them could be adjusted somewhat to make nuclear weaponry? If that is the case, then the annihilation of Planet Earth is kinda guaranteed ... built into the plan you might say, not that slaves should ever spend a single minute dwelling on what that means in the bigger scheme. We like to have faith we will be around at least to see our lifetimes through and surely that will happen ... or not, the edifice and artifice are incredible, spectacular even, but all of it harbors that ugly little trapdoor keeping us neatly rounded up in place never to know exactly when or how this sad story ends.
At first, and for decades, it appeared and still does for the vast majority of helpless, confused slaves, that all, yes, every single one of the looming and dire threats facing our planet were being deliberately twisted, thrown into the Diversion Cellars of media conglomerates, misaligned by the most inconsequential, miniscule shards of truth and misrepresented to the public resulting in entire mountain ranges of false opinion based on yesterday's garbage. This body of opinion existed, and still does, to occupy the space in the human mind organically reserved for natural curiosity. How could it be, asked the worried slave, that a steady lineup of supposedly human models stands eagerly before the global camera bickering, misspeaking, yukking it up and putting forth agendas that would only serve to make a bad situation worse? That ever since climate change showed itself, the poisonous atmosphere has multiplied beyond record, that ever since awareness of a debt crisis was allowed, country by country is folding under pressure, that once it became obvious we were in deep trouble with peaking energy, there is more energy demand than ever before, and how could Fukushima's Chernobyl-style meltdowns occur with so little concern for the coming Cancers? How 'bout a little statistic on Afghan civilians wanting endless drone war? And why is it, asked the corn-fed children of the fructose-consuming slaves, all those regal leaders are running around bare ass naked, why, when its plain to see everyone's suffering is multiplying exponentially, do they keep on doing all those awful things? Who will punish them, who is not a part of the dark side, why are they immune to sanctions and death penalties? Even the little children, born into it, as busy as they are with their junior tech toys and belt bearing parents, can feel something is off while their meals consist of freeze dried doughy soylent green, but they are made to memorize the food pyramid in class. Oh, what to do? How do you answer to the kids? Would YOU personally cover for the Abusers? Um, I don't think so. You'll have to break it to them soon enough because out there in the big, big world, children not much older than those still under the discomfort of an underwater mortgaged roof are enduring recovery from in your face pepper spray dished out by the very dudes whose united motto is to protect and serve.
Who is being protected and who is serving whom?
Now, as yet another no fly zone is beginning the dogmatic excesses of being sealed into place over yet another wayward Arab Spring gone beastly, and the drumbeats against Iran grow into timpanic membrane-shattering thunder, we review these past decades as normal curious slaves and begin at last to fill in that difficult corner section of a trillion piece jigsaw puzzle. It would be easier to see through the fog if Black Everyday is a Shopping Holiday consumerism weren't equally as deafening in heightened contrast. Buy! Buy! Kill! Kill! While teetering malls track slaves by cellphone supposedly building statistics on what individual consumers do, where and how often inside gargantuan weather-less energy whales, why have we not heard of tracking the deadly results of Fukushima's meltdowns? Why is it off the radar to get statistics for the future of Niger's youth, Somalian famine devastation and what in the world is going on now that spawned enemy plantation overseers are deep sixed, in the dark of night, keeping the believers out of the fantasia media loop? When you start a story and the follow up is this weak, how are intentionally created, addicted to fake news slaves supposed to keep up with the full presentation? Every day, many times in a day, stuff happens. The news web revolves and spins with beginnings, but where are the endings? And the behind the scenes paragraphs and middle passages to keep up the interest? We're not supposed to know. We are supposed to be shopping, that is IF we are not panhandling dirty welfare hippies, living off entitlements, unemployed, a detested drag on the Dream turned to someone else's worst nightmare.
There cannot be endings and definitely not coerced beginnings and middles. You'll have to forgo them. A real ending is final and reveals the horrific reality that It Is Over. They know it, the slaves are not allowed to know. Not since JFK have we had a decent person looking out for American interests as well as Humanity's interest. This IS how it happened, step by secret step, sinking deeper into the Apocalyptic quicksand we lost our way in repetitive negative reinforcement. It was not as much a pure awakening as a gradual realization over time that Planet Earth simply can not keep on functioning as it was and still to this day hobbles to do what it once did naturally, except it can not under the massive weight of too many gaping mouths and fattened wallets and bodies in various states of declining health, starvation of nutrients, we are like plants and need sunlight to survive, but the survival mechanism has been destroyed along with everything else. This situation will go on and on until it can no longer carry the appetites of the self-inflated vampires taking it for granted our Earth is indestructible, one gigantic, unlimited free for all, ripe for the taking, an ongoing infinite, nonstop rape. The ending of all the stories comes when the last man passes out from exhaustion on the last portion of decayed asphalt realizing, "Oh No!" He knew it all along and his dying wish is to have been more prepared, to have told someone in a postion to do something what it was he was seeing. It won't happen because until there is no one left, there will always be someone else who thinks they know better than the slave.
We will be the first humans to have three world wars within a single century and the toll of each serves to expedite the quicksand's lust. It is not for lack of something better to do that Astrophysicists are deseperate to find planets bearing water. The only question left once they close in on the real deal is: Has mankind learned ANY lessons? I doubt it. The Universe is already known to be violent, it portends rather a perfect ending, does it not? An ending with a brutal beginning, a metastasizing disease infecting galaxy after galaxy. Will they bring along the gift blankets? Is there a map of Black Holes yet?
Be sure to hug your loved ones, human or animal or both and be grateful for the time left and make possible whatever happiness for others, no matter how small that happiness, that you can bring about. We are here in these extreme times for that reason only. And it is a beautiful reason, there is none more pure than sharing our love and maximizing our compassion. It seems to me that meltdown is built into every nuclear power plant online and is it not possible that all of them could be adjusted somewhat to make nuclear weaponry? If that is the case, then the annihilation of Planet Earth is kinda guaranteed ... built into the plan you might say, not that slaves should ever spend a single minute dwelling on what that means in the bigger scheme. We like to have faith we will be around at least to see our lifetimes through and surely that will happen ... or not, the edifice and artifice are incredible, spectacular even, but all of it harbors that ugly little trapdoor keeping us neatly rounded up in place never to know exactly when or how this sad story ends.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
food wagon at the Sphinx
Please go to the Gallery.
If you are on dial-up and have to wait for the images to download, here's something to digest in the interum.
If you are on dial-up and have to wait for the images to download, here's something to digest in the interum.
Friday, June 11, 2010
The Lunacy Escalates
06.13.10 UPDATE:
U.S. Gives BP Capacity Deadline as Cameron Expresses ‘Sadness’ Concentrate for a moment on what this says about the situation.
Not so lucky ...
Casualty: Becky Winstead, a research assistant at the Institute for Marine Mammal Studies in Gulfport, Miss., takes swabs of a dead Kemp's Ridley turtle that washed up on the beach in Gulfport, La. Over 300 turtles have been found dead over the last month between Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama. Further testing will be done to determine what happened to the turtle. Over 20 turtles were found in one day this week. (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times / June 13, 2010) [red emphasis, mine.]
See: Photos: Turtles amid the oil spill | Photo Gallery
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It is my contention that the thread of these disasters running through this era of which we are witness is an unnatural connivance designed to bring home a message. In the GOM, the Gulf of Mexico, the message is clear, the little people are shown the price of convenience is extinction, fomenting a return to what is perceived as hard labor at the wheel. Yes, that is a message most reading here already understood clearly, we are hard wired on one side, that side being the side of the Creator. For those ignorant of our finite resources or invested in resource mutilation is where the bell tolls. If they didn't get it before, they're not going to miss it now - providing they are open to possibility. If they are not, and there are always those who cannot be helped, forgive them for they know not what they do.
As the sun rises on this side of the planet, bringing illumination to everything God and Nature has given us, we awaken inside the most critical disaster yet, still the debates and newscasts rage on evermore dire, evermore fruitless, extending indefinitely. With each passing hour of each passing day, resolution evades the morphing perpetrators proving the limit to our planet's carrying capacity was reached many decades ago. The Industrial Revolution made possible a breach in planetary contract, surely we are not the first or only planet to have detoured so grossly from what could have been? The question is will we find our way home. At anytime, with the volume of slaughter committed counting from this minute long into the past, we cannot. For every word blared globally of reassurance, billions more fill the bandwidth declaring clean energy is the way of future. Once again, we've arrived in that snowstorm, hoping, wishing, blaming, allowing brief consolation assuaging anguish to guide us nowhere, we remain in place stupefied while the shadow of eclipse increases.
If there had been honesty and accountability all along, none of the disasters would have been. If there were no manipulative humans manufacturing personal gain involved, none of these disasters would even be perceived as disaster. Nature must do what she does, it is only fools who see themselves as too big to fail and too powerful and clever to lose that interfere with Earth's natural behavior as they are doing now. However, it is not them I wish to talk about, or their destructive definitions of their fellows such as terriers, malcontents and misanthropes. After enough years of disaster, our primary concerns are with the violations of sanctity taking place. Remove "loss of livelihoods" from the mix and you get genocide exactly as other genocides, which are continuing simultaneous to the GOM genocide, which is one not all that singular in its potential for mass destruction when you consider the complex vegetable matter being laid to waste globally on a continuing basis.
We are past peak everything, the seams are bursting, the planet is obese with corruption and lack of spirituality. All that is and was sacred has been made a mockery by self aggrandizing self representatives of empty shells crippled by cult. Jim Jones was only one of millions. They would like us to go without the convenience of the recent past, okay, we're ready, many already there, but they themselves will not. We're not supposed to notice they talk the talk but do not walk the walk. As the talk is projected enlarged, more volcanoes of disaster erupt, the lava flows freely and things around us change for the worse. Natural attrition is off the table in favor of nuclear devolution as a far more effective method for wealth accumulation.
After you see it a few times, you know what is happening and you know while you personally had nothing to do with it, it is leading the way for much more, much worse (is that possible?).
Put a picture in your mind of Hiroshima/Nagasaki a mile deep in the GOM. They could do it, that one is on the table. Speaking of choices, an alternative to this method is the Nigerian debacle which is doing nothing and which is why BP snuck into the region without trepidations. " So what if we have a problem? This is the way of the world. We're heroes doing heroic works!" Behind every failure lies the glorious promise of infallibility made possible by breaking that timeless contract with Mother Earth.
It doesn't matter what legal minds press for justice or injustice, it doesn't matter what bigger fish swallow up the smaller reckless fish. It can never matter what punishments will or won't be applied here. There is no torture mankind could inflict that would outweigh the damage done and to come.
Has it ever occurred to anyone reading here that we may be the aliens in the mix? That our perceptions of right and wrong were formed though landing in hostile territory while attempting to reverse the ongoing destruction? If so, the mission just may be impossible.
The majority of leadership has always known the Earth is finite and attempt to conceal that knowledge in order to systematize the populations leading us into global slavery. It is the very act of concealing and the foul intention of enslavement that make this world go round. You would have to say then, this mission was exploratory, painful and not terribly educational. It is fun sometimes, but mostly those times are not recognized until you have something to relate with them such as extended disasters, mass poverty and sickness, genocides and never ending war. It is painful indeed to see them killing off all of that on which they depend for survival.
For the record, there is one item of genuine progress to report which is the search effort for Abby Sunderland, the 16 year-old soloing the globe by sail, who lost communications and suffered a broken mast in 30' waves during which the Australian Maritime Safety Authority located her, at great peril to the search plane, without compensation. They say they responded because they want other countries to respond to Australians in trouble.
Already the Family Values Fundies are organizing ... never ones to let opportunity go unnoticed. In a perfect world, AMSA would set the standards.
U.S. Gives BP Capacity Deadline as Cameron Expresses ‘Sadness’ Concentrate for a moment on what this says about the situation.
... BP recovered about 7,570 barrels of oil from midnight to noon yesterday ...
... In its application for the well, BP told the government it was prepared for a worst-case oil spill of 250,000 barrels a day...
BP gets deadline from government, told to have new containment plan for oil spill by Sunday night
And what then if it does NOT have a new containment plan ready by the deadline? Who will take them to task? Knock, knock, anybody home? As a duck himself, did Scrooge McDuck worry about his defenseless avian bredren while stacking golden coins in his counting room?
Lucky ...
Rescued: Two endangered Kemp's Ridley turtles recover in individual tanks. As the oil spreads in the Gulf of Mexico due to the BP oil spill, many turtles are winding up in shallower waters and feeding on fishing lines, possibly due to hunger. These two were caught by fishermen.
Casualty: Becky Winstead, a research assistant at the Institute for Marine Mammal Studies in Gulfport, Miss., takes swabs of a dead Kemp's Ridley turtle that washed up on the beach in Gulfport, La. Over 300 turtles have been found dead over the last month between Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama. Further testing will be done to determine what happened to the turtle. Over 20 turtles were found in one day this week. (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times / June 13, 2010) [red emphasis, mine.]
See: Photos: Turtles amid the oil spill | Photo Gallery
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It is my contention that the thread of these disasters running through this era of which we are witness is an unnatural connivance designed to bring home a message. In the GOM, the Gulf of Mexico, the message is clear, the little people are shown the price of convenience is extinction, fomenting a return to what is perceived as hard labor at the wheel. Yes, that is a message most reading here already understood clearly, we are hard wired on one side, that side being the side of the Creator. For those ignorant of our finite resources or invested in resource mutilation is where the bell tolls. If they didn't get it before, they're not going to miss it now - providing they are open to possibility. If they are not, and there are always those who cannot be helped, forgive them for they know not what they do.
As the sun rises on this side of the planet, bringing illumination to everything God and Nature has given us, we awaken inside the most critical disaster yet, still the debates and newscasts rage on evermore dire, evermore fruitless, extending indefinitely. With each passing hour of each passing day, resolution evades the morphing perpetrators proving the limit to our planet's carrying capacity was reached many decades ago. The Industrial Revolution made possible a breach in planetary contract, surely we are not the first or only planet to have detoured so grossly from what could have been? The question is will we find our way home. At anytime, with the volume of slaughter committed counting from this minute long into the past, we cannot. For every word blared globally of reassurance, billions more fill the bandwidth declaring clean energy is the way of future. Once again, we've arrived in that snowstorm, hoping, wishing, blaming, allowing brief consolation assuaging anguish to guide us nowhere, we remain in place stupefied while the shadow of eclipse increases.
If there had been honesty and accountability all along, none of the disasters would have been. If there were no manipulative humans manufacturing personal gain involved, none of these disasters would even be perceived as disaster. Nature must do what she does, it is only fools who see themselves as too big to fail and too powerful and clever to lose that interfere with Earth's natural behavior as they are doing now. However, it is not them I wish to talk about, or their destructive definitions of their fellows such as terriers, malcontents and misanthropes. After enough years of disaster, our primary concerns are with the violations of sanctity taking place. Remove "loss of livelihoods" from the mix and you get genocide exactly as other genocides, which are continuing simultaneous to the GOM genocide, which is one not all that singular in its potential for mass destruction when you consider the complex vegetable matter being laid to waste globally on a continuing basis.
We are past peak everything, the seams are bursting, the planet is obese with corruption and lack of spirituality. All that is and was sacred has been made a mockery by self aggrandizing self representatives of empty shells crippled by cult. Jim Jones was only one of millions. They would like us to go without the convenience of the recent past, okay, we're ready, many already there, but they themselves will not. We're not supposed to notice they talk the talk but do not walk the walk. As the talk is projected enlarged, more volcanoes of disaster erupt, the lava flows freely and things around us change for the worse. Natural attrition is off the table in favor of nuclear devolution as a far more effective method for wealth accumulation.
After you see it a few times, you know what is happening and you know while you personally had nothing to do with it, it is leading the way for much more, much worse (is that possible?).
Put a picture in your mind of Hiroshima/Nagasaki a mile deep in the GOM. They could do it, that one is on the table. Speaking of choices, an alternative to this method is the Nigerian debacle which is doing nothing and which is why BP snuck into the region without trepidations. " So what if we have a problem? This is the way of the world. We're heroes doing heroic works!" Behind every failure lies the glorious promise of infallibility made possible by breaking that timeless contract with Mother Earth.
It doesn't matter what legal minds press for justice or injustice, it doesn't matter what bigger fish swallow up the smaller reckless fish. It can never matter what punishments will or won't be applied here. There is no torture mankind could inflict that would outweigh the damage done and to come.
Has it ever occurred to anyone reading here that we may be the aliens in the mix? That our perceptions of right and wrong were formed though landing in hostile territory while attempting to reverse the ongoing destruction? If so, the mission just may be impossible.
The majority of leadership has always known the Earth is finite and attempt to conceal that knowledge in order to systematize the populations leading us into global slavery. It is the very act of concealing and the foul intention of enslavement that make this world go round. You would have to say then, this mission was exploratory, painful and not terribly educational. It is fun sometimes, but mostly those times are not recognized until you have something to relate with them such as extended disasters, mass poverty and sickness, genocides and never ending war. It is painful indeed to see them killing off all of that on which they depend for survival.
For the record, there is one item of genuine progress to report which is the search effort for Abby Sunderland, the 16 year-old soloing the globe by sail, who lost communications and suffered a broken mast in 30' waves during which the Australian Maritime Safety Authority located her, at great peril to the search plane, without compensation. They say they responded because they want other countries to respond to Australians in trouble.
Already the Family Values Fundies are organizing ... never ones to let opportunity go unnoticed. In a perfect world, AMSA would set the standards.
Friday, May 14, 2010
to what advantage?
I am in the strangest place with this blog, it seems to extend indefinitely and there is no statistician to guide where it might go in times to come. I've written a number of essays and deleted them all. If I wait a day or two, the events of our times change, magnify and worsen actually, like a terminal disease, and there is little point in saying something that becomes past tense before you can articulate your thoughts or even realistically define our fluid situation. My chief concern since last month has been the genocide taking place in the area Shock Doctrined during Katrina, as if we are witness to the Postmortem Monsters' Ball of Peak Carpetbagging. If you are as busy surfing for information as I am, let me offer a few sites that are doing a great job of discussing said genocide:
ClubOrlov
Desdemona Despair
The Oil Drum
and more below ...
After all, what is mass death on such an incomprehensible scale but genocide? My general feeling about this is very simple, stop all attempts to recover what is gushing from the geysers, seal it off and go home. Face charges and do your time. Show all the corrupt and greedy you are just ordinary men and offer up your one good example as final testimony to having passed through this Earthly journey. As long as you insist on profit from the enterprise of genocide, you will fail. Oh, you didn't realize it was going to be so ghastly? That is no excuse in the eyes of the Divine, you participated, designed, connived, shaved off every detail you could get away with, all along. Oh, everyone else does it? That is a worse excuse. If you truly desire to seal the pipes, instead of golf balls and tires I suggest you make a clay mold as dentists do in our mouths and fill it with melted plastic shopping bags and Styrofoam cups which you will give to the robot and have your geysers stuffed never to break down for tens of thousands of years.
I am really disgusted this oil eruption happened. It was entirely predictable. If you do not walk away from the profit angle and fix your mess, it will happen again and again. Look into your heart and see the answer.
It will not escape the astute reader that what is happening on the peak energy front is analogous to everything else seeking obscene material wealth in 2010 plus. Now we are going to witness who comes forth as human and who is the real monster. Make that plural, who the real monsters are. What do you bet ecosystems don't qualify for a bailout? No, all these things qualify for after such disasters have generationally destroyed entire geographies, is anthropogenic destabilization of Earth's balance in the Universe, be it Ozone holes or holes drilled into the Earth's crust. This brings up the question, specifically, what is the goal? To be more powerful than God?
If these monsters don't do the right thing right now, you know more is on the way. Anytime, anywhere. We cannot prepare for or consider surviving that which we do not know. And what pray tell is this emerging whisper concerning small nukes to control deepwater drilling "leaks"? Is this how it all goes down?
ClubOrlov
Desdemona Despair
The Oil Drum
and more below ...
After all, what is mass death on such an incomprehensible scale but genocide? My general feeling about this is very simple, stop all attempts to recover what is gushing from the geysers, seal it off and go home. Face charges and do your time. Show all the corrupt and greedy you are just ordinary men and offer up your one good example as final testimony to having passed through this Earthly journey. As long as you insist on profit from the enterprise of genocide, you will fail. Oh, you didn't realize it was going to be so ghastly? That is no excuse in the eyes of the Divine, you participated, designed, connived, shaved off every detail you could get away with, all along. Oh, everyone else does it? That is a worse excuse. If you truly desire to seal the pipes, instead of golf balls and tires I suggest you make a clay mold as dentists do in our mouths and fill it with melted plastic shopping bags and Styrofoam cups which you will give to the robot and have your geysers stuffed never to break down for tens of thousands of years.
I am really disgusted this oil eruption happened. It was entirely predictable. If you do not walk away from the profit angle and fix your mess, it will happen again and again. Look into your heart and see the answer.
It will not escape the astute reader that what is happening on the peak energy front is analogous to everything else seeking obscene material wealth in 2010 plus. Now we are going to witness who comes forth as human and who is the real monster. Make that plural, who the real monsters are. What do you bet ecosystems don't qualify for a bailout? No, all these things qualify for after such disasters have generationally destroyed entire geographies, is anthropogenic destabilization of Earth's balance in the Universe, be it Ozone holes or holes drilled into the Earth's crust. This brings up the question, specifically, what is the goal? To be more powerful than God?
If these monsters don't do the right thing right now, you know more is on the way. Anytime, anywhere. We cannot prepare for or consider surviving that which we do not know. And what pray tell is this emerging whisper concerning small nukes to control deepwater drilling "leaks"? Is this how it all goes down?
Saturday, February 27, 2010
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
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
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.
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.
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.
"... On November 4, in a nationwide address, Yushchenko cited: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.
-- 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;" ... "
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.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Studio 54 closed
Just when I was going to post about how useless internet surfing is, Charles happened to post about a website he's found where they are apparently horridly honest. I haven't visited yet, the day is young. However, just knowing about it means we're saved again. Saved from throwing our laptops into the fireplace or the dumpster, whichever is handiest. We can go on posting for a few more days until the big questions return. And questionable it is my friends, don't scoff too quickly.
We've been over this many times, even now it glares from my archives. Before actually getting out of bed this morning, it came to me in predawn, post dream clarity that Visible is right, it is all in our minds. This world, this life, we've dreamed and created and maintain as if we are clubbing at Studio 54. Today, we are in these places, tonight, other places, tomorrow, who knows? And yet, deep down, under the gloss, we know something is wrong, something doesn't make sense. What do we do when something in life does not make sense? Like all good western citizens, we ignore it and continue to do what we always do, confident it will eventually make sense. This method of dealing with a created reality is built into the fabric of our very lives.
This is how our nations handle everything. You can read four headlines on your welcome pages, each one contradicting the next. House prices are up. House prices are down. Employment is up, unemployment is skyrocketing. Recession over. Crisis worsening, we're in the eye of the hurricane between subprime and ARM, or is it CRE today?
Now you ask, is this making any sense? No. Do addictions make sense? No, again. We'd like to know the point, but the point is loathe to be acknowledged. We don't want to kill off our species, so we ignore our overpopulation crisis and the accompanying rise of overmarketing and overwarring, all which denies our prolife vision, a vision not from any religious beliefs or desire for financial gain, but simply from the natural right to life entitled all species. We live, therefore others too must live. There is no secret to the equality of life. That is not an ideology, it is sensory knowledge, Life IS sacred because we live.
All that is wrong, that down deep under the gloss wrong, is wrong because it was never right on a small scale. On a larger scale growing larger, the monster is untouchable. We are doomed because we ignore it. But ignore it we will because this is how we handle everything. I wouldn't exactly call our situation western procrastination as much as a circular void of solution where everything positive is countered by a negative. When a one-fits-all answer is not available, we do nothing. Scanning over the past decade, we have done nothing. We have taken cover online and the issues we discuss worsen. What happens when there is no more web? You don't really know yet, do you. Trust in the way our planet has rotated lately and that will give you some vague idea.
Never again will we have normalcy because what appeared as normal was just another phase of the dream that twists and turns incessantly as dreams will. Glancing at what we know of the other regions on our planet, many have never known what we think of as normal. Western civilization might as well be on another planet for all the lack of similarity in thought and lifestyle. But westerners time for domination is over. Every day our schizophrenia is more apparent along with citizens' Alzheimer's. We go back and forth while going nowhere.
I discovered a used bookstore a while back and purchased a college literature anthology for a dollar. Pre-owned literature is castaway cheap I thought, leafing through tissue thin pages packed with the meaning of life from hundreds of articulate voices, many still living. There I found redemption, a confirmation in print we've always known truth, but choose to ignore it. In this most recent go-around, we blew it with religion. We sent out missionaries to denigrate all not living in our western imperialistic shadow and stole their free will while deifying the corrupt and the mundane. In a nutshell, it is the hijacking of free will that is the bitter root of our destruction. Our worst failing was an abject failure to see all living species as One naturally occurring and naturally maintaining gift born from Mother Earth, perfectly balanced in the Universe to exist and flow with all heavenly bodies and we blew it big time.
The debate today is not whether we will escape judgment day, but will there be another go-around? My vote goes into the yes basket, but next time humans will be left out of the mix. The part of the plan allowing guardians for the species didn't work. The deified corrupt and mundane thought they were capable of more. The citizens don't get along, they overpopulate and steal free will from everyone and everything else. They lie to hide their agenda until it can no longer be hidden. They've become confused and unnecessary, rampaging though the rotten fruits of their labor, trampling the sacred, valuing nothing, having lost all sense of purpose.
After the slate is wiped clean, perhaps archaeologists of the future, if they exist, will uncover our used literary anthologies and see where we went wrong. Inshalla, God willing, they do not ignore our mistake.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
We've been over this many times, even now it glares from my archives. Before actually getting out of bed this morning, it came to me in predawn, post dream clarity that Visible is right, it is all in our minds. This world, this life, we've dreamed and created and maintain as if we are clubbing at Studio 54. Today, we are in these places, tonight, other places, tomorrow, who knows? And yet, deep down, under the gloss, we know something is wrong, something doesn't make sense. What do we do when something in life does not make sense? Like all good western citizens, we ignore it and continue to do what we always do, confident it will eventually make sense. This method of dealing with a created reality is built into the fabric of our very lives.
This is how our nations handle everything. You can read four headlines on your welcome pages, each one contradicting the next. House prices are up. House prices are down. Employment is up, unemployment is skyrocketing. Recession over. Crisis worsening, we're in the eye of the hurricane between subprime and ARM, or is it CRE today?
Now you ask, is this making any sense? No. Do addictions make sense? No, again. We'd like to know the point, but the point is loathe to be acknowledged. We don't want to kill off our species, so we ignore our overpopulation crisis and the accompanying rise of overmarketing and overwarring, all which denies our prolife vision, a vision not from any religious beliefs or desire for financial gain, but simply from the natural right to life entitled all species. We live, therefore others too must live. There is no secret to the equality of life. That is not an ideology, it is sensory knowledge, Life IS sacred because we live.
All that is wrong, that down deep under the gloss wrong, is wrong because it was never right on a small scale. On a larger scale growing larger, the monster is untouchable. We are doomed because we ignore it. But ignore it we will because this is how we handle everything. I wouldn't exactly call our situation western procrastination as much as a circular void of solution where everything positive is countered by a negative. When a one-fits-all answer is not available, we do nothing. Scanning over the past decade, we have done nothing. We have taken cover online and the issues we discuss worsen. What happens when there is no more web? You don't really know yet, do you. Trust in the way our planet has rotated lately and that will give you some vague idea.
Never again will we have normalcy because what appeared as normal was just another phase of the dream that twists and turns incessantly as dreams will. Glancing at what we know of the other regions on our planet, many have never known what we think of as normal. Western civilization might as well be on another planet for all the lack of similarity in thought and lifestyle. But westerners time for domination is over. Every day our schizophrenia is more apparent along with citizens' Alzheimer's. We go back and forth while going nowhere.
I discovered a used bookstore a while back and purchased a college literature anthology for a dollar. Pre-owned literature is castaway cheap I thought, leafing through tissue thin pages packed with the meaning of life from hundreds of articulate voices, many still living. There I found redemption, a confirmation in print we've always known truth, but choose to ignore it. In this most recent go-around, we blew it with religion. We sent out missionaries to denigrate all not living in our western imperialistic shadow and stole their free will while deifying the corrupt and the mundane. In a nutshell, it is the hijacking of free will that is the bitter root of our destruction. Our worst failing was an abject failure to see all living species as One naturally occurring and naturally maintaining gift born from Mother Earth, perfectly balanced in the Universe to exist and flow with all heavenly bodies and we blew it big time.
The debate today is not whether we will escape judgment day, but will there be another go-around? My vote goes into the yes basket, but next time humans will be left out of the mix. The part of the plan allowing guardians for the species didn't work. The deified corrupt and mundane thought they were capable of more. The citizens don't get along, they overpopulate and steal free will from everyone and everything else. They lie to hide their agenda until it can no longer be hidden. They've become confused and unnecessary, rampaging though the rotten fruits of their labor, trampling the sacred, valuing nothing, having lost all sense of purpose.
After the slate is wiped clean, perhaps archaeologists of the future, if they exist, will uncover our used literary anthologies and see where we went wrong. Inshalla, God willing, they do not ignore our mistake.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, August 09, 2009
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.
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.
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