I completed the reading of “Deep Green Resistance,” a compilation of chapters designated to individual authors, Aric McBay and Lierre Keith, with chapter comments by Derrick Jensen, he being by now perhaps the most in favor of Atonement of the recent clan of eco-activist writers. Before “Deep Green Resistance” was mailed to me by a friend I intend to ask why of, I had seen it in Barnes and Noble and not having the “deep green pocket,” had to realize a few words before closing shooed me out the door.Just think, I never read more than one page of Henry James, yet the sentence structure is almost as long as some of his, such that before I leave it I must add that the book is published by Seven Stories Press, New York, 2011.
I had not heard of either McBay or Keith, and if I have read one of their essays at one of the various and sympathetic sites, I am unaware at this time. I am not going to review their work in general but intend comment as to how I am left feeling about industrial civilization. I have small faith in my fellow humans, do not rely on my ego perspective of God and the Universe, however I have been very clear of my nature as carnum–could be Sonship as depicted in “A Course In Miracles,” that the library fairy brought me to read next. This is my body says the Jesus myth; bread being Mother Earth and known as carnum, carnus, carnivorium, body, flesh, the other thinking mind that I take to be the Holy Spirit–Jung’s Collective and Subconscious factory of the anima-animus. Yes, my authors above, we are killing the planet, but at this point, I see litle faith–oh wait! I said that already. So here we cruise expectantly into the unknowable future of a galaxy far far away.
You do realize the simple aspect of free floating in space in an electromagnetic powered dynamo where no place is even statistically close to where we believe we are; we’re merely a few generations away from the sun rolling around the world. Now we are aware, if you do your research, don’t simply believe me, read the evidence of others, it is strangely comforting at the same time is the ultimate terror, actually knowing where God is and how to listen. Today there are so many gods, the stones piled in Georgia freak the ignorant out and make the five hundred million people seekers wet in the pants. Funny, that this all was foreseen by a guy writing from a mid 19th Century perspective of things, Karl Marx;
And just when they seem engaged in revolutionising themselves and things, in creating something entirely new, precisely in such epochs of revolutionary crisis they anxiously conjure up the spirits of the past to their service and borrow from them names, battle slogans and costumes in order to present the new scene of world history in this time-honoured disguise and this borrowed language.
The tradition of all the dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brain of the living. ( The Marx-Engels Reader, WW Norton 1978 pg. 595 )
I’m not sure at this point, if I put up the blog containing Rabbi Kaplan’s 20th century commentary that we need to help all people achieve their self-driven purpose. I find this as a universal truth to our Holy Spirit, that as Heartmath and the Institute of Noetic Sciences have supported with experimental evidence, we are all magnectically connected to each other through the heart center of our body and we are also connected to the magnetic field of the Earth. At this time there are effects in the magnetosphere we are just learning about, aspects that neither Marx nor Kaplan had a clue about. If I have lost a blog it is because the Vermont secessionistas pulled my blog from their site and dumped two original pieces I had written just for those tree sap sippers. This is not a time to be operating from ego, but from the Holy Spirit.
I was out in the country on the way home today listening to a Moslem Environmentalist who is an American and he said the Quaran says if we pray in nature the world will remember and come to our Atonement in our favor–that the grass will remember we prayed there. Deep Respect For Plants, they are Holy Spirit, not Adam Smith or Karl Marx’s use-value; they didn’t understand respiration back then.
Which brings my thoughts back to Carl Wilken’s economics of raw materials, especially the “basket.” Wilken’s approach establishes value as how much did Mother Earth give us last year at what real cost, plus a reasonable profit; ten percent. This prices corn as monetary value, so if you want to keep it until next year, it already added to the money of the system in a fair and balanced way, it is as if it is pricing the increase of the corn from one kernal to an eight inch ear with a thousand kernals. This system is good for livestock, because once the monetary value is calculated, the rats can eat it, there is no “debt,” outside of reparative action for the humus and mineral content, which should already be in the fair trade price of the food product, which is not a commodity like cement or silver. It is a life affirming economics and guides money through the poor side of things while actually increasing everyone else; the float the boats from the bottom of the tub philosophy completely misunderstood by 99% of the activists seeking economic justice. Why? Harry Truman and Dwight D. Eisenhower wanted it that way; a first turn away from the economics that won World War 2.
I’m a harper alright. I’m harping on Wilken, why? As it says in “A Course In Miracles;”
You forsake yourself and God if you forsake any of your brothers. You must learn to see them as they are, and understand they belong to God as you do. (pg. 82, 1976)
With the precarious nature of legal life in America seemingly roiling in a madness of fear, the fear mongers themselves are succumbing to their irrational psyches. It’s a bloggers field day with free for all commentary on the progress from 1844 and Old Karl, to 2011, numerologically entertaining. The net thumps and grinds with blame shame and guilt, the guilty continue to evade while pot smokers are in-not a car-seration. I pick up “The Other Bible,” for comfort and Psalm 10 prays with me:
I am stricken dumb like a ewe lamb,
my arm is wrenched from its socket,
my foot sinks in filth,
my eyes blur from seeing evil,
my ears are closed from hearing the cry of bloodshed,
my heart is appalled at the thought of evil
when human baseness is revealed.
Then my foundations shudder
and my bones are out of joint.
My entrails heave like a ship in a slamming storm from the East.
My heart is utterly sore,
and in the havoc of transgression
a whirlwind swallows me up.
When I consider being ejected in what was based on lagged communication and attitude of some sort, I considered what it meant to think of a Republic of Vermont as a seceded State, and I thought about some people who might also have some input to this:
When spring arrived, the people returned to their village. In the Connecticut River Valley, they fished for salmon and shad, which were abundant at this time of year as they migrated upstream to spawn. The largest salmon weighed as much as thirty-five pounds. The Abenaki men used decoys and blinds to hunt waterfowl.
While the men were fowling and fishing, the women gathered spring plants and did the sugaring. They filled green birch bark kettles or pottery containers with the sap and boiled it, placing hot embers or heated stones directly into the sap. The women boiled it down and formed it into sugar cakes for easy storage. Later in the spring, the women, expert herbalists, gathered young ferns and other plants for food and medicine.
( Link )
If those people could come back to their land they would find the Connecticut River no longer brings a harvest of stinky ocean fish for their corn. Their wonderful diet rich in sea nutrients is gone gone gone, spiced with hot Luciferian dust. And also in that linked site above, demonstrates a commonality of humans to seek the easy life of technology as quote: “In later periods, copper from as far away as the Great Lakes shows up in Vermont.” ( Ibid ) Taking a Sweat Lodge will not relieve you from the Atonement.
Wouldn’t it be an exciting challenge if we can leave the Earth well enough alone where She needs it (This is my Blood– Grapes and Water), and restore and replenish while we can still truck fish kills inland? Their natural place is White River Junction on down, as American Indian agriculture demonstrated. No, we won’t do that. Why? Lierre Keith tells us why:
The values taught by the mass media encourage the worst in human beings. If people are objects, neither intimacy nor community are possible. If image is all we are, we will always need to be on display. Social invisibility is a kind of death to social creatures. We buy more and more, whether higher-status cars or lower-cut jeans, so that we can have a better shot at being noticed as the object du jour. People surrounded by a culture of mass images experience themselves and the world as depersonalized, distant, and fractured. This is the psychological profile of PTSD. Add to that the sexual objectification and degradation of those images, and you have girls presenting with PTSD symptoms with no history of abuse. (footnote 80) The culture itself has become the perpetrator. (“Deep” page 153, )
Whatever the reason why I was ejected from their bevy of quail, I do suspect a reason why– also I found an interesting aspect as I was told “someone on the board,” thought my blogs didn’t fit after having been screened with all these WordPress blogs acknowledged. The interesting aspect is the concurrent move to de-person-hood corporations, growing out of Vermont and all across the span of the land in my benefactors circles. Right now the shuffle of the Slow Turtle walks between Shelburne VT and Belchertown MA. And those effects of the magnetosphere I spoke of above and in other places, have empathetically affected me so I must always consider, ” anything that engenders fear is divisive because it obeys the law of division.” (A Course … pg. 83-4)
When Mother moves as much as She is right now, when the core and surface crack and rumble, when magnetism destabilize, and Clive Baxter’s plants communicate, and the Quaran says the grass listens, and Jesus said the mustard plant, not the moneychangers were the key to undertanding The Kingdom, the Carnus, our Carnival of Blood Soaked Ignoratum. We await the electric spark that is sure to come from all the species static. It will come up through your feet and blow out the top of your cranus. Ready, set, BLOW!
I must be part Anunaki Space Alien the way most Vermonters “receive” me. Sounds pretty similar to those Abenaki.