Abused and Confused

Authors Aric McBay, Lierre Keith, and with chapter notes from Derrick Jensen, have written a book of 550 pages complete with a recommendation to pot smokers to “take a bath and get a job.” One would imagine that people willing to tell us we should think about perpetuating violence simply to collapse modern civilization, and who would further chant the mantra of egalitarianism, feminism, and an end to domestic violence could do better than that old worn out Birkenstock of a diss’. Have you ever considered that “longhair” might smell from working?

I am not quite finished with the chapter titled “Decisive Ecological Warfare,” and between being admonished that there is little to nothing we can do to stop the destruction of the planet’s ecosystems, and the advice on how to set up underground networks, their advice assumes the odor of a bunch of fresh leeks. It smells good, and very strongly. What they advocate is in itself ecologically costly.

Another aspect of their writing is the dissing of “Permaculturists” as self focused survivalists. They change the wording to “perennial polycultures,” which my spell check doesn’t like anymore than Permaculture. I just spent a good portion of this summer working with a “Permaculturist” student on a farm in Western MA. She had a burning desire to set up permanent food cultures, much the way the Green Resistors McBay and Keith, say will be a best case scenario for the future of eating. I find some irony that the farmers in Vermont all give off an attitude they know it so why talk to me, while the young people seemingly resist and rebel arbitrarily, they are listening.

The writing in Deep Green also harps on Global Warming. Since we do not know what is really going on in the heliosphere, and now Voyager space probe is giving more evidence for a paradigm shift about the nature of the sun and our universe, scientists are at the point where we will have to wait for the old ones to pass and the new ones to be acknowledged before we can get on with the ramifications of this new support for an electric universe. I’ll be quoting from this book in the future as that will take study and focus, for now I point out that the writing discusses the viewpoints of God expressed in some of my blogs, that, as in the words of Neale Donald Walsch, “You’ve got me all wrong.” We’ve been given the paint set, our artwork needs improvement. Trouble is, we’ve used up most all of the paint set and now dig, explode, crush, bomb, conquer, steal, and burn our way to artistic expression drenched in blood of our ancestors.

We are going to eat this planet right down to the nub. “Deep Green Resistence” boils down to the Georgia Guidestones–which I have been hinted to might not apply to Vermont–especially that part about 500 million Earth population. No worries mates, I’m 64, and loaded up with injuries from a persistent and aggressive work ethic, it’s a shame they threw me away before my time. Now what? Do I become dissatisfied with life and hobble out to do battle? I remember an old guy pictured in Pakistan, carrying his flintlock, walking to Afghanistan to fight with the Taliban against “the coalition. Obviously it was a media ploy. Or was it belief in the rightness of his cause?

Yesterday I took my Permaculture companion to the airport so she could fly off to New Mexico where she will be doing her senior year of her Permaculture focus with study of dry land farming. I did my best to demonstrate soil management by organic methods. I am disheartened by the input stream of farms taking in compost from outside due to the ubiquitous nature of GMO throughout the food chain. Do the horse farms use internal fly suppressant? Is there aspartame in the sugar products?

There’s this guy I call the protest man who shows up at the Brattleboro VT post office and carries around signs with detailed information no one can read the way he does it. I figure there must be some office upstairs he wishes to expose to his message so being the designer I am, I thought, paint it on the top of your car. I assume there is some regulation that he can’t stand still as that might be loitering. I’m not curious enough to ask him what he’s doing, and come to think of it, I know someone who might be able to tell me. Yesterday I noticed a long list of radionuclide elements in bold letters. I also noticed his car was packed full of his folded messages, therefore I dubbed him The Protest Man. One very effective part of the message of “Deep Green Resistance,” is to choose methodology that is effective.

Between the fear of a world in death–and R. Crumb type comics from the 1960-70’s, had a comic called “Slow Death” with an Earth in bandages on the cover–and what we can do about it, the message of what will truly be effective is scrambled in the cognitive dissonance. We are to use resources to collapse civilization so we can use resources to set up our gardens of polyculture perenially. Last night on the way home from the airport, I was driving slowly as I have a fuel filter maintenance situation. As the various vehicles passed me, I attempted to comprehend by first impression who would go along with collapse of civilization and who would not.  I have one word for my speculation, Lemmings. The authors are correct, no one has the fortitude to put the interest of others equal to the interest of themselves. On the worse side of it, I participated in bringing forth children into this world who are deeply hooked by the material society with boats, trucks, motorcycles, gear of all kinds, motors, and a clientele of 1%’ers. My longest and best friend owns a landscaping business. making pretty estates one of which was summer home for Bill and Hillary, so he’s not listening about peak oil. He’s still trying to make a good profit from making lawns while his daughter also attended the same ag’ program of my New Mexico deposited friend, wants to be a sustainable organic farmer.

As one of the original 148 subscribers to the Mother Earth News, and an old “tune in. turn on, and drop out” back to the landers, a Wandervogel of pent up work ethic, uncharacteristic of the times, I smoked my pot shares and took a shower twice a day, so don’t be bitchin’ at me about being dirty because you’ll end up cursing me for using too much hot water, and I am one of the ones who knows how to make solar work.

A band of New England just received a limb shattering snowstorm in October. This paragraph will carry two thoughts. Back in October of 2009, there was a similar storm. The limb shattering demonstrated the fragility of the trees, and the pest worm damage to the forest duff is visible to someone raised in the woods as a child. I used to be able to slip into the woods, fluff up some leaves, and be invisible to people three feet away. Now I cannot hide a lap top. The limbs are weak, undernoursihed, collapse is well underway Ms. McBay and Keith.

Derrick Jensen’s comments and summaries at the end of the chapters gives the book the workings of a text book.  There is also a Platonism to the growing hierarchy of Peakists. What is dismissed, is that there very well may be an answer blowing on the wind, but techno windmills are a poor excuse for a cloths line. As bad as the trees are, and as grand as the Mohawk canoe was, wooden boats with resin glue make the most ecological sense for moving Vermont’s refridgeratibles down to New York through all that ecologically scarred landscape and poisons of industry, because it can be done with a natural horse system as before, only imagine our technological advancement into materials, tensegrity, geodesics, and bullet proof fabricks [doesn’t that look so 17th Century?] and resins, many we may find able to be made from existing and renewable waste streams of chemicals we now freak out about what to do with them. My farm owning friend has a daughter unpopular in the polyproducts production companies because she wants to make benign life affirming polymers. She’s very rebellious.

Deep Green Resistence [DGR], I like the term, a good capacitor to flex the circuit. The focus that we will slip back to “slavery,” is just more reactionary back sliding thinking that would make an underground network’s mistakes like Prius’. Bigger footprint, unneeded suffering, and very self centered–Father Knows Best will be tolerated until the New State can choose the King Father.

The River of Life is the flow between my brain ego, and feet animal. I have fresh red marks on my arm from a Rooster I grabbed who slipped into my coat that prove they use their thumbs. Chickens are one step above reptilian and are definitely dinosaurs. They drop eggs in nests and raise families. On the farm one of the extended family brought by a youthful cockerel and dropped him in the neighborhood of the flock I’m tending. I have one hen who sped her egg dropping into a brood and now walks around with three chicks in contradiction to modern agricultural practices of keeping them warm at 98 degrees. I named the hen Salty for some white throat feathers, she’s a bantam, which means small, and she and other hens laid up the eggs in my wood pile. I had to shift my wood use, but with a few days work coming my way of limning and brushing, I had a surplus with ash, which burns wet or dry. I was surprised at how dry, in relation to the trees vitality, the white pine was, especially in contradiction to all the rain this season. So with the forsythia spurting out some starts, and a hen brooding three hearty chicks, her adopting the much abused cockerel from flock rejection,  I would say an awake person could see the natural metaphor in the world around us to the turmoil we suffer from the Gollum of our own making. Now done with the cord of electricity flowing up down and pulsing within, I bring you to my heart center, where amazing discoveries tell us we are connected to each other, to the earth, and I will speculate, since cosmonauts died for the proof of it, the solar CME’s create human deaths; the sun’s magnetism is changing as 200 species die.

Oh how Holy Science, are you open to changing fast?

DGR, yet again the the cacophony of voices cries out, change we can believe in; can we believe in anything? Then I witness before all, a Power Greater Than Myself can command me to hold a wall from crushing others, so to change the future I am change myself, here and now, and the Last Great Attack of the System against independent people will be small landscapers.  We are still in the grip of Modernity, at the UN, in Congress, in State and Local Governments because we got used to motors.

Future marches worth note, the march of the Corn Syrup People. It tasted so good, my Ben and Jerry’s, and that first cup from the bulk tank put solid yellow jersey bacon on me. Then it wen to mush with Bud and St. Paul’s Girl, finally assaulted with corn syrup I said enough is enough. The Hills of San Francisco must have made an impression in me, did it you? I climbed myself out of 120 pounds of pure polluted pork while creating redwood decks and granite countertops. I saw some blanks for sale outside Brattleboro yesterday. I think this weekend I’ll see if the company needs some help. And then, I will be in the very same place of frustration I was when I was helping a Wall Street broker murder a hill in Honduras for its mahogany. I was looking at a starving child on a logging road in South America on the cable television. I realized the road was a logging road. I realized the child’s father couldn’t provide for his child from the work of sending me the lumber for J. K’s house. I was enraged–slipped as DGR authors say into adolescent mind.  Since the body mind of magnetism does not speak language the way ego mind does, I went to stillness and looked into burning the house to the ground. And as DGR illuminates, that serves no purpose, so I did the next best thing. I did the very best job I could with the wood and the house with the consciousness of the offering of my companion wood worker and thought about how , I too, in my own society was witnessing the slippage of survival. I worked for my children who turned from my Mother Earth News innocense to luxury fishing machines and fast motorcycles. I love them all the same.

That’s the tuff part. Unconditional love flowing through the magnetic universe; electromagnetic universe, we are, as I might have pointed out in my 1984 blog near the very beginning of the Thunder Gate, empathetic to the globe we inhabit like static fleas. And I mean all persons, including dinosaur mother chickens teaching young how to survive in an ice age. And she picked the old remodeled chicken coop I have of and on used as tool dump, boat storage, artistry and now as base camp one.

So there’s my feeling/though of positive/negative, heliosphere witnessing of the life force that always says share, care, and aide, without stint. Even DGR is telling us, it is for the greater good to be a monkey wrench, even unto deep violent behavior, otherwise known as premeditated, and the chemicals, the chemicals, oh the Horror!

How can I modify a lifetime of John Wayne, Jimmy Stewart, Humphrey Bogart, The Marx Brothers and Relation Groucho, you watching Jon Stewart tonight, Vermont? New England? FEMA region one?

Deep Green Resistance has a deep command meaning, we’re surrounded on all sides, attack! 550 pages, and not one reference to Burning Man. I commend them for that–if I’m wrong, I won’t believe it now, get the hint?

Truth is truth. Either we come up with the way toward the Utopian one more time, that we see, hear, feel, and calculate our imperfections, and live by those heart connection concepts. Slave make poor pyramids with shaky bottoms, better to have unions, guilds, associations, craft schools, university and human life, whether we want it in small little bunches we think will be more comfortable or in huge multi-state monstrosities whose cost of doing business will rise exponentially beyond the Fibonacci/compost/growth cycle.

I’m advising a young man on his first skinning job of a road kill fox. I cried and said prayers, I vibrated the heart magnectics of my Ancestors, and bolted energy through my cord in gratitude for all life. The young woman who left here to be a Permaculturist with papers shall not have her dreams smashed at getting things back to life. She was called “The Fox” by her summer experience of searching herself for an animist image of power. I applaud it. My homeland has a language built on images. The World would call me Unemployed, hard to be for a collapsed business owner; not specifically true. And the cognitive dissonance of our collective PTSD, could we number that Kaballistically?

Old Elephant in the Living Room advises caution, ladies and GENTLE men. And if you please anybody else the universe chooses to be here.

On the upside, and you might find this strange, the authors craft is grade a, so the immediate lesson I have learned is that my perception that my life from this point on would not be about personal gain, that was just not going to happen. The company of writers have delivered a tactical manual for the Intellectual Revolution.

I worked in life insurance, I know the value of an actuary table. The Vermont agency I worked for went out of business, the proprietor broker moved to Boston area to be successful, and I stayed in Dummerston to write poems about a dead brown horse on the ice of the West River. I learned fast how closed and stagnant the country was becoming from my days of dropping out to dairy, only to be forced into real estate developer. You can see it all over farm country, the road side lots cut away. North of New Lebanon NY there is a new item known as a “McMansion.” I thought how silly it looked up where it was perched and remembered my mother’s strict commands that true culture is never ostentatious, always inflicted with realities of humility. Her mission took her between  rich and famous and destitute in need of aide.

My final word for this summary of a long book in a long blog, if I operate from my compassion, and recognise the harmony in the Fox lady (she met one every morning on her bicycle), leaving UMass, and the young man who also knows her finding the road kill fox, I learn these days to simply say goodbye to people knowing that the actuary table is weighing in against me. Yet also do I know from long teaching, the Power of Life Force will show me the path, and now it says ORCA! and death fills the oceans like a bad book report.

I give you my peace,

and only my peace,

not the world’s peace,

the peace of I,

the peace of forever and ever,

My peace, only my peace.

This entry was posted in agriculture, alternative energy, Derrick Jensen, electric universe, kundalini energy, sustainability, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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