Where is the lesson in this?

Honesty.

I acted wrongly and perpetuated bastard energies. Time has asked me to stop yet now the mess is mercury hot, it begs to be removed from the nearness of the sun.

Run away tiny coyote! How many more forest friends will you consume before you belch the bones of your rancid ways?

Rain dance tonight! Ancient practice revives to cleanse the pollution of clumsy creations!

You say I’m so stubborn and cruel. Well then, I am so pleased to be yours and to have mine, let’s make more things to carry this crooked ship down the depths of uselessness.

But alas! A pirate with a pen, ravaging with words, a sentence he sharpens from the blade forged by many prophesying men: ‘death to things that make us feel weak, small and tired: that keep us on our feet! When what we require is a deep enough sleep, to drum a clear beat so the people can step dangerously in time with the ticking of the tides riding high on the moon’s backside and be free!’

Okay, I’m here. I am here! What spirit has called my attention at this place and at this hour and what must I do to appease your formless brew?

Listen you say, but instead I translate it as a condition of my diminishing physique; I nourish my bones with sweet and saucy, I lick my fingers when I should be licking the soles of Buddha’s feet; “don’t bother me! Pull the reigns of your fiery chariot and pierce your own heart; the arrow draws a string with which to pull the muscle from its nest, leave mine alone!.”

“Shut up and be still, this is why you were called, not for a culinary thrill, silly human.”

‘Okay!’ what now?!?!’ distractions arise from illusive shadows and thoughts generate to flush the intelligence of five senses: I ponder something besides my knowing of this realm. But the channel has been allowed by bundles of sage and narrow icicles of wax that beg for a chance to chase darkness away in a blaze.

Dear Journey,

Don’t write with confusion; write with clarity! Even poetry demands clarity, not in words and how they are presented, but poetry requires clarity of origin: this means not right nor wrong, but that the author is clear in representing confusion, sadness; what does this mean exactly? It means to be fully aware of yourself in the moment you grant for reflection and honesty (don’t worry, no one is watching) and be true to the experience as it is, raw and organic from your center, whatever it may be in the present moment. Be certain of the source and let the words form around them and align naturally in a march of syntax and prose; this is personal poetry, this is your gift, this is what you offer the world and it is beautiful because you made the space for it and it is authentically you.

Once the words are before you, these precious gems of absolute insight and depth, after you read them, separate from them: do not own them. You mustn’t feel responsible for their impact; disassociate from the words and they will inspire you in whatever way they do; your past self intended them as a guide, maybe for you, perhaps for another. The words are not yours; they belong to a greater source when they are born from clarity and consciousness. This way you can witness their power to unite and to change, phenomena which happens when and only when they are released.

You see, words are only sounds, particles, elements: they begin as a thought that forms from ingredients that interact in our minds, we send outward this energy in waves upon which we place words linearly, one word after the other, like our understanding of time, in a sequence like we see our own lives; but round is the actual order of things, infinity is the essence of higher planes of existence; our part is finite so we experience the beginning and the end of form and function, as we ourselves have a birth and death; but circularity is truth though ambiguous within the shallow measure of our immediate awareness.

To travel distances, to be said or written and heard and read, words must hitch a ride upon waves of energy that are continuous and infinite, floating and colliding and stemming from and branching off and bumping into other waves, like cellular waves, microwaves, brain waves, ocean waves, wind waves, emotional waves, static waves: with intention we send outwards our words like a message in a bottle atop a wave of energy that we have harnessed for the moment, attracted to us by the energies we have magnetically pulled and borrowed from this dimension (in conjunction with other dimensions?). The slower the wave the more direct from source, the more rapid the frequency the more momentum and force; these are the ones that require that the borrower use caution; they can cut and slice, they can tear and infiltrate and pass and influence, hurt and harm and devastate and destroy, much like ugly words with claws in waves whispered from the mouth of a conniving magician.

These high pitched waves are coming in at frequencies beyond which we can measure with our primary sense; we can neither see them nor predict them, therefore we can only cancel them by committing to impeccability; whole truths upon which we place words of a positive nature, honest and of the deepest blue; if you don’t make magic then magic is made upon you: saying love once invalidates the perpetuation of historic hatred and restores crystals to beauty and balance. Love yourself, love your energies, love the words as they are sent outwards and beyond the scope of control, let them surf the waves and purify the atmosphere of nonsense, chaos and confusion.

Be honest, source words from source, bow before your own energies, respect divine human potential; this is service of the highest self. Tentacles-waves are like wind; it carries dust that falls onto the lashes dropping center in a tear cried from the eyes of a weeping camel: it will find the earth and one day be carried again to grace the sky with its presence: every thing which is IS something which will connect to something else: nothing is ever truly free from belonging in the sense that it will inevitably serve as an influence or impression in this stage of reality. Even dust has a history, as do we, and so as wind drives sand so must we drive our words in a caravan towards LOVE.

In examining my existence I find that

there is only one, only one way home.

Today I mourn the vacancies in a sequence of three; one step, one stab, one me. I look for help but I am received with utter distaste; I am in the way and I do not belong here.

A smile cannot be found though people pour into streets like water from a wild fountain, they race to be places but the reason why is cleverly disguised; I just want to go home, back to nature’s womb, cuddled in the arms of vastness, blanketed in warmth and reading poems carved like symbols of imperfect hearts into the crust of a scorched tree.

‘The city, the city the city!’ I cry to the people so distant performing so distantly: why must I stay? Let them race and rot along the way, my city-self is suicidal and she demands her way; stillness is met by tears that grace pavement which meets my spirit that is so exhausted from exhausting every attempt to adapt by being higher this and not-so-much that; then what?

Then what when I walk around and I give myself and I bear my soul in honesty, and I allow and I disallow; I am drying up! It seems that every step I take requires another moment of stillness so I can collect and continue; and for what; for what? For what?

I require a way home. To the woods can I come now? Can I come home now? Can I come home now please? I think maybe you forgot me here, did I miss my turn to return? Can I come home now?

I know you say that the chains are illusory but I see today my life in this cage of gray and all I want is to come home now. The trees you say to see and be seen but I see them now as imitations; is it a trick to make me feel at home amidst this war?

In examining my existence I see only one way home; I require that way home now. The air isn’t clean and the energies are obscene and the fire that fuels the cars is from the same fire that burns bruised hearts and I am begging you please let me come home now.

A man walks by; did you send him my way? He says ‘what a beautiful day’ and I wonder if like the trees he sees that I am not so naive; he wants to sell me temporary peace, but I know better and so my eyes are facing up at the sky and I think that maybe it doesn’t go on forever; maybe its all fake and above it is a ceiling made of plastics and metal grates and there is someone like me looking down and laughing at the misery and sadness I create and I just want to go home now; please.

And the voice, it says to enjoy the mundane; no matter if it is real or fake or a ploy or one giant mistake; I am here and that’s the game; to find a plane where I can feel at home despite the craze.

In examining my existence I see that there is only one, only one way home.

Letter From Anonymous:

“When I met your friend at (location not mentioned to protect identity of actual characters), he lightly patted me on the shoulder. Who does that? I almost laughed, I almost let my tongue free. It was insulting, and let me know that he is probably rich, definitely condescending, probably has a superiority complex, and is insecure. I noticed when you and I took a picture, you also were leaning on my shoulder. I thought to myself, do these folks go around feeling a little superior? Just food for thought ”.

Thanks for the food! Here’s the thought:

Every person you encounter is an amazing resource for something, and the instance you form a judgment, you have blocked the lesson; you have disrupted the flow. It takes more work to restore the flow than it does to disallow judgments.

Judgments are our way of making sense of things so we may understand them better. So often we form judgments, devaluing our experiences by valuing what we consider the validity of our observant and critical minds; we interpret and define, label and assess, dissect and pick apart; all so that we may form an idea of an experience or thing in the language of our thoughts and context of our personal histories. To this idea we become attached, perhaps for many reasons, though mostly because it feels good when the world fits our pre-established judgments of it; our learned, acquired, and adopted preconceptions that contribute to form what we call our reality. Our reality is not to be confused with reality; indeed, our reality means our interpretation of what is, but reality implies ‘what is’, and what ‘what is’ is pure being; it exists independently of our assessment of it, and is free standing and infinite. We come into the world and inhabit a tiny space for a small amount of time, and we are allowed the mental capacity to experience it with our senses and form ideas and thoughts, and figure stuff out, and communicate about how we lived it. That’s great, but it is not reality.

When we form judgments we take away from the thing being experienced; we pull it from its inherent reality (its pure being) and make it a form in our minds; it becomes like a test subject on the operating table of our imaginations, and we take from it and add to it until it resembles little of what it actually is because it is no longer real and it is no longer itself as it bears characteristics of our own personalities while missing aspects of its original form.

We now control it as we strive to control everything; through judgments we discover we can control everything because everything becomes something to which we can attach in some way or another.

It feels good when the world fits our pre-formed judgments of it; otherwise we experience FEAR. From fear is born the binding power of our own minds: from fear is born judgments. The unknown, the unfamiliar, the unsettling, the new; these types of experiences give rise to fear;fear sparks the desire to understand; desire to understand stimulates the process of forming judgment; judgment forms opinion; opinion becomes action and action leads us either to regret or embellish; either way, to act on a judgment is to act selfishly, trusting in the mind and allowing it the power to guide us in isolation from the guiding force of truth, actuality, and pure being. Selfish is to trust the mind and its judgments, to wander through life an ego on a spine, walking and talking and forming relationships as one sees fit; judging, therefore resenting, elaborating, denying, repulsing, blindly influencing and ignorantly interacting as though the head is impervious to all and all else is impervious to it.

This is not the case; a friend described people as having tentacles, and every word, action, interaction, smile, and look that manifests within us extends to affect others like the tentacles of an octopus extends through space, influencing the flow of the surrounding environment with only mild intention: we control the birth of the action or word, that is, we can decide to extend our tentacles, and we can direct it towards a desired result via intention by choosing how to deliver the word, action, interaction, or smile,  BUT how our tentacles are received is out of our control. Therefore, we mustn’t be careless with our tentacles; we must be impeccable with it. Never let loose a tentacle of judgment: from it can only be born more tentacles of judgment and more tentacles still until the original thing is so swallowed by tentacles it ceases to exist or has been sentenced to exist in a state of misery, or it passes us by like dissolved possibilities for great friendship, opportunities, adventure or service.

Tentacles are our connection to each other and our world: why spend them freely and carelessly? To feel safe from fear is the desired state: but when the bearer of thought is open to the truth of impermanence it seems that security is nothing but an adjective used to describe the way life sometimes is, sometimes isn’t. That’s all everything is really. It sometimes is this, and it sometimes isn’t. These are not judgments; they are affirmations of acceptance of the nature of life’s flow.

It doesn’t bother me when people share judgments, I simply don’t reply: when someone shares a judgment they have actually invited you to become impressed by their words whereby they expect some reaction: even when there is no reaction they interpret lack of action as reaction. If I choose to play, I can either defend myself against the judgment or partner with it, forming a judgment of the judgment either way, committing to a conversation bound for nothing but failure, amounting to little more than wasted time.

In order to maintain a peaceful presence, to engage humanity on a higher plane I smile at judgments and seek to offer these words as a reply, skipping gracefully over the sloppily strewn tentacles: ‘is that so’?

I hope people get it; with judgments, you move nowhere, you get nothing and your tentacles become so rotted that no other tentacles born from healthy beings are willing to unite; you will be alone with your tentacles in the company of other rotted tentacles. While all the life of the sea is available in limitless potentials those rotting tentacles will forever isolate you from the rest so long as judgments are allowed to maintain you, the bearer of precious consciousness.

BUT, with openness and a willingness to see beyond what you think is, or perceive as, or assume to be; to recognize the power of your tentacles and to accept that the ways in which we all collide in thought and action are inevitable and constant, though changing and with variance, you can have EVERYTHING.

Energy is precious, life is priceless, and though love is infinite our bodies are not: I choose to engage people in conversations of betterment and progress: undress the mind, simplify, and practice practice practice laying those tentacles with pure intention and grace. “Watch as the whole world becomes you friend”, is what was said to me. It truly has. It can be for you too.

So!

Dear Anonymous,

I will neither embrace your judgment nor deny it; it is neither right nor wrong; it merely has no place. If we were face-to-face, I would have swallowed my pride (as I am a beginner in studying the art of ‘being human’), and replied, ‘is that so’?  And, despite the context of your message and message of the subsequent discussion, I love you, anonymous you who has lit my fire and allowed me hours of pleasurable writing. I love all of you. You see: Love is not limited, it certainly is not founded in judgment: to say I can not love this thing because I am already in love with this thing is a gross misunderstanding of love. Love is not mine to decide the quantity, it is not born in me and requires no rules of distribution to be felt and experienced. Love is not to be rationed or controlled or denied or accepted. Love is. I am love. I don’t need love. I don’t want love. I have nothing to do with love. Love is greater than me. I am small, but I am loved, whether I exist or not.

Namaste,

Rasham Writes

I was on an early morning run heading west in pursuit of the edge of our east bay landscape, the Oakland waterfront. It was dark when I reached the docks, and I paused but never stopped breathing as I stood upon a wooden mound where I gently began to embrace the vacant space. I opened my heart with deliberate movements, siding with the ways of the world for once instead of posing a challenge. With my eyes I traced the  vertical line of my arm extending towards the blinking lights of hovering planes, and in the stillness I watched a few seagulls become a hundred singing songbirds in the sky. I watched them manipulate the urban seascape, crouching in spaces that weren’t meant for their inhabitance: they had made a home there anyways. I turned my back to the sea and saw a row of tall trees, palm trees I think, though their manicured appearance obscured their actual identity.

It was early and no one was watching; sinking into the stereotype that has haunted me since I declared my intentions to grow long my leg hair I did what any hippie would do: I hugged one of those ‘palm’ trees. Both my arms were wrapped only slightly around its waist, and I waited for some shock or sequence of tremors that would signify an energy exchange, but all I experienced was myself hugging a tree, a tree that occupied the tiny cell it had been given, a prisoner anchored in tainted soil surrounded by pavement and mocked by all the tassels and frills of the Waterfront hotel. Looking around I saw that most of the urban setting resembled a prison, only, of course, from the perspective of everything non-human. The trees seemed forlorn and sad standing as though they’re energy had been arrested and publicly displayed for people’s twisted pleasures.

There is an undeniable element of control in our macro-world: we destroy nature and build in its place a space where we pick and choose what goes here or there, making orphans of earth’s offspring and adopting them as our pets, our accessories, our pleasure things.

And in becoming the stereotype I began to cry, my arms were now scratching the surface of mystery tree and I didn’t care if anyone was watching. And then it came, those precious words whose arrival I eagerly await usually while sitting with eyes closed in front of a candlelit Buddha were now caressing the icy moisture on my face. Maybe it was the tree, maybe it was the rain, maybe it was the lingering high from the toxic residues I inhaled working night shift behind the counter of a bleach-soaked café; whatever the inspiration, my mind was held by pure knowing and I was content.

This was the message received:

(in the voice of a tree; think ‘Treebeard’, Lord of the Rings):

“Though we may appear to be taken, though we have been brought here and cropped here, made to stand here and provide here, we are victims of nothing and prisoners of no one. What we have we share freely and that makes us free, free to stand where-so-ever our trunks are planted. Growth is not extending in the manner of the will; would I be any happier a tree if I existed in a forest? If instead of garbage and cement I saw wild things and living dirt? If I allowed such expectations to boil and coalesce then I would certainly be a bitter tree, for that is surely not my reality. But what is my freedom is my choice: I choose to be, to see growth as extending towards being, towards God, infinite and always: see you a roof limiting the height of my leaves? See you a bottom stunting the depth of my roots? See you anything but an open tree, available for you to experience, ever present and alive? My needs are supplied by factors unbounded by the human powers that have placed me here: rain will fall, air is all ways, and love is in the earth that feeds me. There is a beauty in every presence; I choose to show who I am; a happy tree, a tree that is free, a free form of beauty.”

“You, human child, are a tree. Some days you think of yourself a wilted stem in a broken pot, without proper water, suffocating and dry, hungry and dying. Other days your mind is aligned with the truth of your presence and you are as I, tall and free, the boundaries that once seemed to hold you dissolve in your own radiance and you are fearlessly love. Which do you choose to be, human child? Do you wish to grow outwards, expanding your selfish influences across shaky grounds, collecting and conserving for the benefit of your useless fears? Or will you choose to grow upwards and beyond what is shallow and immediately satiating, will you coil your roots down into the meaningful depths of understanding and will you reach your mind to occupy the space where thoughts are lit by the same force that awakened the stars? Will you cling to your greedy expectations or will you simply be? Life will not give you anything: what is meaningful are those lessons that awaken within you that which you already know. You are a tree as I am a human, the word is irrelevant and the form is no matter because the love is the same.”

And it was then that I accepted Tree as a profound teacher of historic wisdom, a living example of that which is known but forgotten and confused and complicated and overshadowed, that which has the power to restore and replenish our disconnect and our hurt: like a tree all we ever truly need to do in this world is breathe, and all we were ever truly meant for is being. There is no prison that can suppress higher potential that is outside the body of the bearer of destructive thought; change your mind and watch as the whole world becomes your best friend.

On my run home I saw nothing and everything and felt my heart and was alive in no need of anything but my own feet to run past the trees that stood like anointed professors in universal uniform presenting freely the greatest display of love.

It was later that day that I had two remarkable encounters with absolute strangers, or as I have come to understand the definition of stranger: brothers with whom I have only recently been reunited. One man guessed my birthday and guessed correctly, figuring that early morning was when I played in the waves of spiritual awareness. He also predicted that I am becoming a great Dancer: he spoke of these truths based purely on my energy.

The other thanked me for being so kind, for allowing him to see my spirit and for sharing with him a simple moment of softness.

I wasn’t trying to impress anyone; all I did was think of Tree that day, but the love was recognized, received, and reciprocated twice by two men who perhaps have themselves met Tree. In the hours to come I gratefully experienced a new channel of living; I changed my mind and discovered that life force flows when small things are done with great love, like, for instance, hugging a tree.

Be the Love you Wish to Receive

Hug a Cow, Save the World

DISCLAIMER: I’ve no interest in policing the people of the state, of harnessing their hearts and demanding commitment and loyalty. I have no interest in profiting from financial contributions, or in funding the extravagancies of a starlet reflection.

All I Want to Do is Hug a Cow.

I was sitting in a warm space on an autumn morning when I became suddenly emotional: staring at the waxy coat of earthen greens on my plate I was engrossed by memories of grazing dairy cows and calves I had visually experienced in the early morning fog. This is a common sight on the hillsides bordering a California highway and so I didn’t treat it as phenomena worth attention at the time. But as I sat in the cafe with a warm bowl of sautéed chards and brown rice, my subconscious harmonized with the voice of Elliot Smith resonating in the atmosphere and I began to cry.

They were cows on the hillside, yes, but so much more than that: they were living symbols of the human force of ignorance, control, manipulation, greed, and cruelty.

They were mothers and their offspring surviving merely to meet the demands we have placed upon them, doomed to a fate as gruesome as the intentions that brought them to life. In that moment I felt as though I possessed a connection to these creatures, a responsibility to every cow, calf, pig, goat, lamb, dog, horse, reptile, cat, dolphin, whale; every living creature whose force of life had been exploited to supply our modern world with its accessories, extras and extravagancies.

I had decided long ago that I wouldn’t eat them, nor wear them, nor include their harvested ingredients in any facet of my life. But now it occurred to me that I could provide a service on behalf of all the mistreated creatures of the world in another form: I could hug them.

A hug may not seem an intelligible solution to the issues stirring around the farm and the factory, but I dare challenge that preconception. The power of a hug has many implications, many colors and shades, many layers of expression. It is its most precious manifestation that I aim to expound: compassion, acceptance, and most importantly, love.

Real World Animal Cruelty

Most animal-cruelty, vegetarian and vegan campaigns expose the brutality of the associated industries by publishing graphic images and investigative reports of animal abuse and neglect, torment and pain. To these I am open, but I can only take them in small doses, sipping an image for a few emotional tick tocks, and cherry-picking words from the horror scripts of the ‘Real World; animal mutilation and probing’. I applaud all those who are willing to withstand these truths and who are brave enough to absorb them as such.

For those who deny themselves the displeasures of an animal rights reality check I place no blame: people choose their cause in this world, whatever it may be, and hopefully it is to a positive cause they remain committed.

It’s also not surprising that ordinary folk choose to leave the blood, guts, and gore outside of their mental living rooms: no one feels they deserve to be the victim of blunt-force ‘FYI’ trauma, and so they treat it as they would the news of foreign war casualties from a battle afar; by turning it off and tuning it out.

As creatures prone to unconscious bouts of self-pity, we usually have little to spare. And though we may feel sorry for the animals, this sorrow isn’t enough to ignite the rebirth of thought.

About this ‘in your face approach’: it has the potential to perpetuate intolerance, to stifle opportunities for change by its aggressive undertones that outline its methodology. These wavelengths reveal the truth, yes, as an unrevised and unedited window into the world of our scientific, culinary, and fashion communities. But are we ready for it?

In my experience I find that people do not appreciate being told what to do, nor do they like to be smacked in the face with accusations of having been wrong in choosing this, or bad in doing that. It is hate and power and greed and inhumanity and injustice and selfishness which have manifested mankind as the greatest detriment to his habitat, the greatest threat to all of earth’s species. I don’t think that any ‘global cure’ could contain notes of these characteristic elements; rather, I believe that love is the only way to absolve 2400 years of harmful habits and ignorant consciousness. We simply don’t need to survive in this manner anymore; perpetuating hostility and wastefulness towards animals and earth simply serves no further purpose other than to lead mankind down an irrevocable path of monumental error and spiritual abolishment.

All You Need Is Love to Lift the Burden of Suffering

Love has the power to infiltrate every person’s inherent capacity to reconnect with humanity and re-engage his commitment to the earth and all her creatures. By expounding upon the belief in the power of love, I believe the individual mind will be offered a probable solution to the dichotomy that is currently seeping through the veins of mainstream mindfulness.

In order to access this love, a lot must be un-done, relearned, re emphasized; perhaps the most important of these lessons is to attend the task of re-defining our relationship with food.

During its process from plant/animal to supermarket the origins of our meals has become obscured. The meat section of any outlet doesn’t give reason for the consumer to think of it as anything other than edible protein, appearing in perfect geometrical shapes colored in blush and marked by tags that bear little implication of it having once been a vital part of a living animal.

In all aspects of our consumer lifestyle we lack the thoughtful ability to read past the labels and analyze for ourselves the value of suffering of any particular product. Fur is still a popular trim for coats and boots, leather for belts and jacket hooks, reptile skin for shoes, animal oils for beauty products; the list continues into and beyond infinity.

Whether bargain hunting for the winter ball or shopping for the backyard barbeque bash, we fail to relate our part in the process of purchase, we neglect the power of consumerism to survive these crimes because we simply aren’t conditioned in shopping with an animal-friendly aura. We don’t see a whimpering Husky when we see a fur-trimmed coat. We don’t see an image of a cow when shopping for belts, and we certainly don’t understand the process of turning Emu into Emu oil.  Though the origin of most of our modern commodities is animal-derived, that link that would afford us knowledge of this fact is compromised during the complicated process of mass production. Business is so big it is difficult to trace the birthplace of, say, ground beef; a single burger patty may in fact contain the meat from one hundred different cows along with trace elements of contaminants and rodent feces, all which form the final product on behalf of the sloppy yet profitable large-scale operations of modern corporate industry.

Of course a slaughterhouse image may surface in the mind of a wary consumer when shopping for animal-wares; but how does one make the link between an animal suffering and a cheeseburger? What does the cow on the hill have anything to do with my super value meal, and why should I ditch my winter wardrobe because my hoodie has hair?

Most of us are aware of the current condition of animal suffering; thanks to PETA and Certified Humane and other organizations with similar goals the media conscious does receive fair contribution from Team ‘Animal Welfare’. But it still remains a predominant disposition in the greater social conscious that we tend to not sympathize with the moral of these organizations because we demand the respect of the innocent; we refuse to accept that we may be the cause of the problem; we thus classify the solutions they offer as ‘unreasonable’ and ‘impossible’. Go vegan? “I would sooner die”, says you, “than live vegan”.

There couldn’t be a bigger lie than the one coming from the uneducated consumer when his motives are questioned; he has a thousand reasons to justify his actions, a thousand excuses in answer to the question “why not live animal-friendly”?

We undermine the power of ourselves as members of this ‘merican life, indeed we are the problem from which is fortunately derived the antidote. They give us what we want; this is the structure of our consumerist society. If we demand cheap labor and cheap meat, then this is what will continue to plague our societies and fatten our children. If, however, we demand animal rights and better options, they will have no choice but to re-define the laws and re-establish the practices which currently serve as foot rests for the counsel of  federal/state departments. How do we demand this? How does the average Joe wield his wand of wonderful capacities?

The answer to these questions can be found in the most fascinating, most beautiful and universally recognizable force of nature; love.

Its simple; the mission is to remind people that we too are animals, that we live and breath and are born and die the same as our earthbound companions.

Love is in a simple gesture of compassion from one human being to another living being, to see an animal and to see some life form worthy of the same care and compassion we would provide our children, our pets, our lovers and our friends.

See the Animal, Not the Aftermath

I wish that we could see an animal and see that it is indeed an animal! I wish that we could see a steak and see that it is indeed an animal! I wish that we could see a fuzzy boot and see that it is indeed an animal! When we trace the lineage of our things, I wish that we could trace them to an image of an animal, calm and watchful while in the embrace of a human willing to sacrifice all notions of  superiority for the sake of promoting awareness and instigating change.

All I really want to do is hug a cow. All I really ever wanted to be was love.

“Who does?” I responded candidly. I can foretell that these images will recline into the cavernous bounty of rejected truths, but while they remain at the forefront of my intellect about these photos I will do what it is that I do: write.

Death by Plastic Waste

I was oddly piqued when these images first decorated my screen: I have before seen the bodies of birds bearing internal plastics on the beaches of the bay in Berkeley, a phenomenon which prompted me to write my very first article, plastic ”. It bothered me to have been blindly bombarded with the demise of humanity in such a morbid manner as having to clean the decaying carcasses from the rocks in the sand. At first there were tears which were then dried by the stench of death: then came a moment of pondering followed by startling realization: we are impacting the earth in very obvious, very disturbing, and undeniable ways.

The difference between the Berkeley birds and the ones on the Midway Atoll in the North Pacific is the fact that the former aviary graveyard is being discovered on uninhabited lands. Humans have not settled here, nor have there ever been any attempts of harnessing the land for modern industrial/agricultural exploitation. This land is deemed ’sanctuary’, a sanctuary that has sadly become the final resting place for the offspring of thousands of Albatross flyers.

The mother birds leave the island grounds in search for meals for their offspring: the search for food is not fruitful save the finding of floating plastics which appear edible to the creatures. What is a baby bird belly to do with a bucket-load of plastic trash? The bottle cap of a soda pop is hardly digestible: with a treasure chest of industry’s finest plastic moldings nestled within their deteriorating physique, the birds succumb to death, a popular though misrepresented theme in today’s society.

I’m Sorry, Mother Nature

It’s quite beautiful actually: as time progresses and our stoic attitude persist the universe never fails to provide an increasing amount of evidence in support of change. Washed up marine life, storms increasing in violence and intensity, climactic variance, dying forests and fields, toxic rain waters, stale reefs, species extinction, and of course, diseased, sickened, obese, malnourished, under-stimulated, over-stimulated, vengeful, enraged, angry and mentally ill human beings who personally have taken it upon themselves to judge the value of life, slaughtering, abusing, neglecting and raping all the life forms of the world.

In waking dreams I imagine Mother Nature standing in a forest of battery acid half stepped in a puddle of diesel fuel with a look of confusion adorning her worried face and her arms in the air as she protests to humanity: “What more do you need? What more proof could I possibly give?”

Certainly NOT Featured On Tonight’s News

The man-made plastic island that exists in the ocean is rarely publicized, nor is the death by trash of nature’s most innocent offspring, as our primary media providers fails to communicate certain facts of the world. Instead what is advertised is static uncertainty, where underground information and discovery are ignored, complicated, over-shadowed, jumbled within the structure of middle-class normalcy. If a truth (like death by plastic, the deplorable condition of American animal farms and kill houses, the fate of an injured racehorse) does find a spotlight moment the f actuality of it is quickly denounced by the kings of control: that diabetes is incurable, that there is no such thing as global warming, that high fructose corn syrup is safe because it comes from corn are but a few examples of the false motivations of propaganda intended to propel mankind further into a state of ignorance and isolation from truth.

We are coerced into sustaining the misery and harm of our modern world despite that our habits and ways contribute to emerging trends of loss and degradation, and are generally repulsive to the courageous investigator and vomit-inducing to his staff of photographers.

Modern society is interested in sponsoring a life of extravagant waste, where every facet of existence is intended to produce wealth and riches at the expense of the environment and all her systems and cycles. Our culture is a culture of death, where every consumer choice has a value of suffering, be it that the ecosystem is damaged, an animal’s life was taken, or our own health and well being is compromised.

Our motives are inspired by the age-old western traditions of greed, lust, and desire, qualities which have successfully brought mankind into the new-era, but are still bottled and sold even though they now serve the opposite purpose: to destroy and harm our own species as well as the species of the earth and earth herself.

Do we like living in such a manner? No! We are a culture of sick people, living with chronic pains and disappointments, miseries and the unpredictability of a selfish world.

Then Why Continue The Culture of Death?

Characteristically we are all obsessed with pleasure causing elements and experiences, and vehemently opposed to painful/discomforting awareness. When we find something pleasurable we seek to hold it forever, to make it ours, to have as much of it as possible, to never let it go. Oppositely, when we are in pain we seek to fix it, to push it away, to block it out, usually by way of pharmaceutical drugs, intoxication, lies, and escape. We may have been taught the value of experience, the importance of acceptance, and the art of time, but we hardly put them into practice during the clutter and chaos of a day in the life of the average us.  

These ill behaviors further detach us from our true nature: though we have plenty opportunities for happiness presented by our unquenchable thirst for ‘things that make us feel good’, we often live our lives reaching, grabbing, pursuing the idea of such things that may or may not make us happy or satisfied. In doing so, we miss the experience entirely on account of being consumed by mindful proliferation; our thoughts are focused upon ourselves and our need for things that would make us happier: we are a ‘if I only had this, I would be this’ society of people, suffering because we feel less whole, less complete, less satiated on account of our spiraling greed and lust. ‘If I had those Nikes’, or ‘if I were married’, or ‘if I could afford this trip or had that job, or that degree, or this slice of pie’: we attach power to powerless things, allowing them to engross our attention until we absolutely have it, and then we move on to the next thing.

It’s Not You; it’s the Mold

The person who fits this mold is nearly everyone in the western world; these are the aims of a consumerist society, to raise a person from childhood to constantly feel in need of newer, nicer, bigger and better things.

That we run from pain, avoid it and suppress it another skill we’ve learned within our network of American neighbors. We have an acquired aversion to anything unpleasant or distasteful, anything that may cause fear or hesitation. This is a dangerous practice; not only have we become reliant upon producers of ‘fix-it’ drugs to ease our physical and mental pains (pains are our body’s way of expressing imbalance), but we also choose everyday to ignore the ugly truths which have emerged aggressively in our society today, thanks to the efforts of non-profit organizations and independent journalists and NPR broadcasts. We have access to solutions, but we’d rather not because it hurts us to believe in the factuality of our own dirty footprint upon the earth. “Ignorance truly is bliss”, says the man as he takes a bite from a grocery store steak.

We forget that everything in this world is impermanent, including our very lives, and that the only thing constant is change. We forget to stop and see our part in the relationships we form with the world. We forget to experience the experience, to allow our subsequent emotions to rise and retreat, to no longer sustain denial regarding our ways: instead we insist on living on the edge, fast-paced and self tortured by the acidity of our western process of thought.   

Follow the Leader

We are living in a matrix of artificiality and when something or someone stands firm and voices honest opinion free from hidden agenda and corporate promotion we are trained to follow our leaders, in our case those who own media portals, those who invest our monies, those who educate our children, those who give us good deals and bargain options, those who give us tax breaks and minimum wage increases, and I mustn’t forget to add due credit to all the Hollywood superstars with influential power.

Is it such an anarchist point of view to proclaim that our leaders are wrong? Is it such an anarchist perspective to prefer the information of underground mediums and the education of peace-seeking advocates in comparison to television broadcasts and public literature?

Welcome to Disney-Earth

The answer to all our problems is always the simplest alternative, yet perhaps because of its simplicity, or because of its lack of institutional accreditation we decline to participate in the cure.

And what do I know: maybe the path to enlightenment is marked by the death of Mother Earth and the birth of a plastic Disney-Earth where we pet mechanical farm animals and eat vegetables grown in laborities. We take walks in industrial parkways and skip metal fragments on petroleum ponds. We rejoice at the sight of the sun which is usually clouded in fogs from emissions, and we smile when memories of waterfalls and rainbows surface in our minds. Survival of the fittest has been redefined in this world to include only those beings which can withstand toxic exposure long enough to reproduce another generation: I think humans have the ability to adapt, although years of disease and pharmaceutical abuse would have us deformed and unnatural, like robots without heads we would continue to employ the factories of our kings all for a taste of ethanol-elixir#10856.

Test subjects we are now for the futuristic endeavors of our kings. New vaccines, new drugs, new foods, and new technology: these are all instruments of scientific experimentation: the weak die and the resilient bear the immunity, the antidote, the gene to be biologically carried into the new millennium, the new frontier. The rich will carry their wealth while the world crumbles around them, and they will carry the producers of that wealth along with them, the working class drones of present day society. All Hail Disney-Earth!

It’s a Bird, It’s a Plane, It’s a Revolution!

We need a resistance! If planet earth does not disown us first then we must deny them that power: we have a constitutional right to bear arms against our government, but lets not get hasty: resistance happens with the dollar, and the dollar that scars the world is the dollar spent to own something, anything bearing a corporate logo, chemically or artificially enhanced, made in another country or simply at the cost of suffering or life.

Of course at this state in our development people would first require a spiritual intervention, followed by an extended period of detox from all things unnatural and a subsequent lifelong program of recovery and rehabilitation. 

For some this is already in effect, for others it will soon come, but for most, Mother Nature has not yet provided a rock bottom: I dread the day that this event comes to pass, as I both fear and anticipate with childlike excitement that it will be the end of an era, the beginning of new times, though in which direction earth and all her creatures are destined to float in the vastness of space is entirely up to forces beyond the control of even the most brilliantly powerful king and all his psychic minions.

For now, go vegan. Buy fresh, buy local, buy organic. Don’t drink, don’t smoke…am I striking a nerve? Don’t wear clothing with fur trim, or of brand name. Don’t drive. Compost. Recycle your clothes. Donate your fast-food money. Don’t eat fast-food. Don’t bank with large corporations. Don’t invest in large financial institutions. Don’t take drugs. Don’t take pharmaceutical drugs. Exercise your body. Exercise your mind. Turn off your television. Tune out mainstream music. Take off your headphones and listen.. Engage one another. Say hello. Take free classes. Take advantage of community affairs. If you hate your job, quit. If you love your job, ask yourself why. Ask yourself why. Ask your superiors why. Question all labels. Question all advertisements. Question those who say there isn’t a need to question. Search for truth. Don’t become complacent. Don’t become lazy. Don’t accept average. Nothing should ever be good enough. Volunteer. Be the love you wish to receive. Spend time outdoors. Avoid using artificial light. Avoid Starbucks. Sleep. Rest. Activate. Explode Creativity!!!

Through education we can unplug from the society of death and plug into life and vibrancy, serenity and peace. It may not be the whole world standing hand in hand, but every person, every consumer has the power to make a difference, and it starts by first recognizing the value of your own life, and the value of the life of those innocent baby birds. 

We Depend on Technology/Doctors for Survival

The health care debate is a topic of conversation from which I usually shy away: I am bored with its constant inconsistencies, inaccuracies, and the futility of it all. Health care for everyone? No. It will never happen. And while we think we have a right to inexpensive care, treatment, tests, procedures, diagnosis and results, we have more importantly the right to know that the conflict of health care is a matter that cannot be resolved by the policies and politics of our finest liberal creations.

You know that lollipop image that comes to mind when you think of your childhood visits to see the man whom mommy called ‘doctor’ but who reminded you more of what Santa would appear if he colored his eyes with pencil lead and wiped his beard with a short piece of dulled sandpaper?

Oh memories: doctor visits are as much a part of any childhood as training wheels and power pads, and are as normal today as they were in Maine in the early 1960’s, when a curious man by the name of Jack Wennburg began accumulating valuable though unnerving information regarding medical practice in the United States. His findings aren’t shocking: they gracefully merge with the heartless currents that propel our civilization.

From the moment we are born so also is born a medical record bearing our name, the contents of which are oddly obscured and grow to represent the choices of not only ourselves, but of our doctors, hospital executives, insurance companies, pharmaceutical industry, administrators, consultants, secretaries, and assistants alike.

Where the manner in which we live surely influences our fluctuating health so does the questionable behavior of our health care practitioners. We are taught to understand that our healthcare system preserves the purity of the patient/doctor relationship, that we are safe in the hands of an educated professional, that his knowledge of our body far exceeds our remedial understanding of ourselves, and in having great respect of his italicized diploma expensively framed we can trust his opinion, estimations, judgments, and referrals.  This can be true: I am in no way demeaning the glorified intellect of a man who trains for years beyond that of his Ivy League pals. What I intend to advocate is this: there are so many other players in the healthcare game; though it may be a patient and her doctor within the walls of a hospital room, the influencing factors which drive his decisions have little to do with empathy and in no way reflect an honest concern for betterment and health.

Health care is a complicated business which relies on the faithful cooperation of a patient to purchase health insurance and attend appointments when recommended and as needed. As a loyal participant in this complicated scheme, the doctor has to ensure that his needs are met as well. He avoids malpractice suits by exhausting all resources for diagnosis, by subjecting the patient to a plethora of tests and immunizations, by referring the patient to specialized doctors, by recommending procedures he knows to be overcompensating the patient’s condition; he engages his patient with a ‘just to make sure’ attitude, which sends the patient on an expensive journey through the healthcare maze in an effort to quiet all haunting possibilities and paranoid suspicions. In believing that the doctor’s requests are sincere the patient plays like a puppet in his hands, affirmed by the subconscious American mantra that more health care is better health care.

The business of health care is a competitive one, where there are as many doctors as there are fish in the sea, and where patients have some freedom in choosing their medical mate. When matched, a doctor’s patient thus becomes a very valuable source of reliable income. The patient is milked, visiting and revisiting the doctor several times a season for a number of fabricated reasons, all the while under the assumption that it is in the best interest of his health to do so. Again, this may be the case, but often times what is truly being accomplished is patient abuse: the ignorant patient is highly fertile in bearing the monetary offspring of a doctor’s greedy intentions, and she will always and unknowingly choose the more expensive option, and as advised will return to him for future dates, behavior which is purely manipulated by her conniving professional counterpart: she will keep coming back, and so will her cash.

In addition, health care reform is tainted by the fact that the technology used in hospitals is quite expensive. There are medical supply companies who want to be included on pay-day, continually advancing and redefining the tools utilized in the modern world of western medicine. CAT scans, MRI’s, blood tests, biopsies, radiation therapy:  who pays for the availability of these resources? You, the patient. It has been said that the modern methods of doctors and his staff are no more effective in the advancement of patient health than the primitive traditions of doctors past (we are a very sick nation, statistics show we fall far behind other less advanced countries in terms of citizen health and mortality rates). We tend to believe that cutting edge equipment promises positive results, that it somehow is making us healthier; hence the more trust we can instill in its ability to cure our ailments. But hardly do we need these machines and microscopes which generally serve only to satisfy our insecurities and calm our worst fears. But they add to our tab, the doctor’s salary, the profit of everyone really, except the patient.  In essence, where there are less expensive ways to accomplish a medical conclusion, the team of doctors and his administrative, legal, pharmaceutical, and insurance squad would rather the patient be made to afford the illusory advantages of fancy techniques.

Of course the topic of pharmaceuticals cannot be ignored: drugs are very, very costly and very cleverly advertised. They are the chemical conclusion of expensive research sold by private companies for the purpose of stimulating a profit. Like a drug dealer to his drug lord the doctors are responsible for delivering the toxic prescription to the most ideal recipient, a patient whom the doctor feels may benefit from the drug, or in the least, will not immediately die from the recommended dosage.

The world of western health care is not to be understood as the media intends: it is in fact an intricate structure with many parties involved so as to sustain the private interests of the executive counsels in charge. Again, it’s a business, and as such, it is not to be entered into with optimism and expectations of honesty and good-will. The entire industry is structured around the gullibility of the patient: everyone profits when the patient believes she is sick, as the very thing being marketed and sold is health care by a system designed to bargain the welfare of an entire people.  In reality, the patient’s health is sacrificed from fear of lawsuit and loss of patient business, as well as with the integration of expensive advancements and the prescription of legal drugs. Besides the required disclaimers visible in small print on documents and pill bottles, a patient is never usually aware of the risks associated with trusting her doctor. Where she is mis-diagnosed, over diagnosed or undergoes a series of exhaustive tests beneath the harmful rays of technological radiation, the patient could be exposing herself to ill-inducing elements, realistically serving her with exposure to health harmful elements or surgeries all while under the assumption that she is on the road to recovery.

In terms of health care reform, I strongly encourage the exhausted and the weary, the sick and the frustrated to re-evaluate the reliance upon doctors and the industry alike. This type of medicine is designed to treat the symptoms of a person with a business approach, trial and error experimentation, insignificant renovations and subsequent recalls. The only sure way to advocate health care reform is to stay away from it: take care of yourself the way nature intended through nutrition, abstinence from all chemical substances, rest, and exercise.

Sound simple? That’s the beauty of it all: where western medicine seeks to complicate and execute trickery and beguile, natural medicine seeks to simplify and refine. It is simple because we are simple: take care of the human body and mind and we will flourish without the need for an annual check-up and chemical maintenance. Earth is our home: we are animals to be nourished, not test subjects for the sadistic enjoyment of our inhumane industry or the financial exploitation of its parts.

There are centers in this nation that can take the sick and make them healthy minus all contributions of western science and its money laundering pawns. There is a level of consciousness the human mind can access which removes the obsession for all things artificial and morally opposed. In every human born is the link to the knowledge of self-sufficiency and optimal survival: the modern process of life with all its distractions aims at diluting this inherent connection, spoiling the nature within as we have the nature all around. But it can be re-learned, re-formed, recycled and renewed: such is the era of holistic health care, of sustainability, within which the need for health care reform is not of critical importance.

In anticipation of being criticized for failure to mention cases of trauma or emergency I will say that health care is necessary and useful. If I were shot in the arm or bit by a rattlesnake I would be a fool to fix myself a macrobiotic meal after a session of acupuncture. There are certain injuries for which the hand of a western doctor is the safest application, and anti-venoms or prescription medicines which are derivatives of natural roots and herbs that can be suggested and administered.

Here we encounter the dilemma: we live in a risky society where explosive damage and sudden injury are always a possibility, and thus in the least a certain minimum amount of insurance is required so as to avoid outrageous and unexpected fees.

This minimum amount of insurance could and would be available to all citizens affordably if it were the case that the demand for healthcare were low. Health care is a business, and thus it operates on the conditions of business: if demand is low, profit is low; therefore cost is lowered to attract business. But the demand for health care is increasingly high because we have come to rely upon it for all our problems, issues, concerns, fears. We are dependant on it for answers, whereas we should learn to depend upon ourselves. As a nation we are sick with cancers, virus, allergies, depressions, immobility: the cause of which we attribute to bad luck and the cure for which we seek medical attention.

But the issue first is this: why are we so sick? There is poison in the food, the water, the soda, the stress, the pressures, the supplies, the materials, the air, the soil: it requires a certain level of openness to explore the lies and hypocrisies of our corporate suppliers, and a certain level of education to avoid such habits and commodities. Once we all begin to demand healthier options, organic options, sustainable options, American made options, they will supply it. We will be healthier, and our world will support it. Healthcare would be available to everyone cheaply because but a small population would demand it rigorously.

So you wanna argue about health care reform? Here’s an idea: let’s reduce health care costs by reducing our dependence upon it; we can do this by living healthy. Live healthy by way of education, which will grant liberation from brand names and acceptance of the life nature intended us to live.

And for some these truths are too uncomfortable; they simmer in the back-lot of the mind and before they are able to guide sprouting thoughts to a probable solution something else wins the attention of the eye and all potential for consideration is snuffed.

But for most these truths come as an overwhelming antonym to the sugarcoated illusions we are so mercilessly fed. We know so little of the origins of the contents of our lives, assuming that because we pay fair price, there is little need for concern. Why should we challenge those who produce the source of our livelihoods? We are taught that harm comes to those who are ill-deserving: when we live decently and minimally, we assume that the fruits of our efforts are and can be trusted. We don’t question the reality within which we live because in it we are comfortable, complacent, settled, surviving to the best of our knowledge and wanting nothing beyond what is within the immediacy of our grasp.

But we are being harmed in the most disturbing of ways, back-stabbed by our fellows and misguided by those whom we have elected to lead. We eat what is sold, we drink what is poured, we buy what is discounted and rarely do we hesitate, do we meditate on the possibility that things aren’t as ritually pure as they seem. 

What is the benefit of such a world? I doubt it is the literal manifestation of an entrepreneur’s ideals, but with the origins of our nation there are the perpetuated frequencies of cruelty and unnecessary slaughter: history provides the view that from the initial patriotic practices of a developing nation our fathers perfected the art of heartlessness and cruelty: we are merely surviving the tradition as manifest destiny is still very much alive between the synthetic threads of our liberal quilt. It is a popular sport to believe in the personal pursuit of riches, power, and fame: an even more popular sport is to believe in the pursuit of these ends at any cost, no matter the lives wasted, the earth spoiled, the people sickened, the masses poisoned, the youths stunted, the animals rotted, the oceans scoured, the hearts hardened. We have been searching and striving and growing and expanding for so many years and now we stand as a crowd of defective and debilitated people with the bloody flesh of our earth companions rotting between the soured crevices of our cavernous teeth: what now? 

If it were possible that every human being alive within the borders of our country could witness the gross processes which fund our modern existence I think, I hope that every individual would weep at the disturbing loss of humanity, and would praise the liberating revelation as the source of all illness, disease, plague and misery becomes vividly apparent.

There are choices you can make and I hope you do. There are some who would rather soak in the shallow waters of commercialism, who could and would wield a wand and commit all of earth’s children to burn in the fiery eruption of the devil’s orgasm. I hope that we all do not become what every mainstream horror flick portends: infected and enraged beasts that pillage and plunder in search of just one more taste of blood. Then again, isn’t that what we have always been? Happy Columbus Day, Columbus without whom we wouldn’t have corn, the root of all that sustains us.

What a rude awakening to awake to the news of nature’s ‘fury’ as we scramble to make sense of senseless acts of slaughter. In the media aftermath nature is portrayed as a problem because of repeat global episodes of unpredictability occurring in patterns of infrequency. Nature becomes our enemy, our oppressor, an obstacle to overcome, a detriment to our efforts of survival. Man vs. Nature, a concept that implies a duality, a distinct separation stressed between all things ‘man’, and all things ‘nature’.

We challenge nature, use our methods of containment, manipulation, modification, and domination. Every interaction we have with nature is one colored by this impression of it: that we see it as some devilish force pushing opposite our motives that go unquestioned and assured.

And when any such thing happens as a violent rain, a swarm of hungry microbes, an earthquake, a drought, oceanic shock waves, flooding, species endangerment, beached whales, dead dolphins, heat spells, rising water levels, melting ice, or an increase in the intensity of storms and surges we think of it as a natural dilemma, and we hang our heads and clean our messes and continue on as we have in the past. We spray the crops with contaminants, we poison the water with the byproducts of modern invention, we deplete the world of resources for our own stubborn use, we dispose of our garbage in the habitats of world’s creatures, we build fences and bridges and causeways and entire city structures across the landscapes of living nature, we suck and feed and leech the life from our planet like a virus from its host, believing that we must survive in this manner or perish, and shall anything attempt to demonstrate otherwise, should some earthly event consume our achievements and swallow our neighbors we only unite in remorse and fight the force of nature armed with the strength of 2400 years of misguided science and fueled by the false presumption that she threw the first punch.

Man vs. Nature: what a silly idea to think of man as separate from nature, as operating under a different set of principles from the very thing which spawned him! But it has been done, and now it must be undone: we are in desperate need of a revolution of thought, and our perspective of our relationship to our environment must be deconstructed and reconstructed so as to conform to the design of planet earth.

The green revolution is a disgraceful attempt to remedy this fallacy of human consciousness, targeting the sympathetic tendencies of the average person by overwhelming him with images of dying polar pups and apocalyptic repercussions of stringent denial. It has become the marketable face of corporations and policy, the hot new item on the shelf, the ‘must have’ and the ‘can’t do without’. The mission of this so called period of ‘going green’ has not the best interest of nature at heart. Rather the greedy lechery of business CEO’s and their monetary objectives are all that stand to profit. Nature is the exploited means to their end, where emotion is employed to produce empathy and regret; we are told to feel sorry for nature, to wrap our arms around her, to love her and protect her, to cuddle her creations and feel remorse for all we have done by complying with economically devious plans: heal the world by buying this product and that car, engage a quick fix to appease our justified feelings of guilt and daunting selfishness.

But this isn’t a probable solution at all, indeed there is no solution to the problem of nature because the problem isn’t nature, its mankind. And our destructive habits are but a symbol of our lack of reciprocity between man and his home planet. What must change is our way of thought. Man vs. Nature must become Man for Nature, we must revisit our history to understand the origins of our perpetual mistakes, we must identify as creatures of this planet no different than the ones perishing on our behalf, we must remember that nature is exactly that, something bigger, more powerful, and more universally profound than we. It is not to be subjected to our will and superiority but to be respected and trusted to restore its own inherent balance and beauty. We must understand that we can only truly be a positive contributor to earth by refusing to harmfully interfere, and instead vow to perform those acts which are in accordance to the laws of nature apart from our own self righteousness and egoist beliefs. Where before we have treated the symptoms of nature as though it is diseased and thus in need of a prescription remedy we need to understand the entirety of it, and in doing so we begin to see just how damaging our modern existence has become, and just how exactly to rectify our behavior.

Use the energy efficient light bubs, recycle your plastics, till your soil, treat yourself to organics: but know that these efforts are of but minimal impact in the grand scheme of it all. Nature will be fine, she may be changing, but it is mankind who needs to adapt to this change, and not nature which needs to be fixed. You cannot put a Band-Aid on the wounds of the world, though you can refuse to accept the idea that you can. All we have are our tools of submission to the truth of our parasitical collectiveness. Where most see a disaster in the current trends of nature’s explosive occurrences I see a wild animal bucking the pests from her back.

And then of course there is also the idea born from the mistrust of the supremely wealthy and the politically powerful players in the monopolistic structure of our society, where the forces of nature are in fact the forces of man; they have been harnessed, learned in laboratories in the world’s finest universities and government basements, where the most disturbing scientific research is conducted and released upon the most politically insignificant, monetarily poor, essentially helpless and morally dispensable civilizations of the world.

That we have the knowledgeable capacity to mimic and instigate natural disasters is unquestionable. Also unquestionable is the motivating consequence of such an action: to promote mass fear of our environment in an overwhelming consciousness, and subsequently urge the reliance upon those in power for answers and support who then guide the common majority in the engagement of investments in the marketable products of big business in return for security and protection from such events.

What is questionable is the audaciousness of men on earth: could they really be accountable for the deaths of thousands of innocent people and the consequent destruction of entire hometowns?

That question is not for me to answer, only to ask. My angle is not to sell or bargain information but to encourage the individual to conduct his own inquiry into the realities of his reality. In either case, whether nature be truly in and of herself reacting to years of human neglect and abuse, then she shall have her way and win her wars, and all we need do is sit back and watch our creations crumble in awe of the virtues of universal balance, and perhaps in our societies there will be born that personal humility that has been lacking for centuries on the western front. If on the contrary, the dramatic materialization of nature’s vivid episodes are purely a systemic effect of the active weapons of mankind intended to illustrate a false state of dire global circumstances, then so be it as well: in either case, again and again, from here and onward through time, let there be a light-bulb moment in the mind of every man, where he realizes either the poisonous essence of his own insignificance at the mercy of nature’s reprise, or accepts the unsettling potentials of man’s poisonous essence when the rulers of the world wield their wands and create from it the last day of life on earth.

Utter disbelief, hate and confusion for the city junkyard which produces fifteen broken winged birds every seven days. They know their methods of protection are methods of inhumane slaughter but they do it anyway; why? Who knows. A broken winged bird in the hands of animal protection is a dead bird: she has no other option. So what then? The death of these animals is sanctioned by the city within which the free birds meet their unfortunate end purely on account of their innate patterns of flight which were evolutionarily learned before the construction of this forsaken junkyard. Is this a reflection of how heartless we’ve become? How destructive, selfish, and thoughtless are our actions, when in order to protect our garbage from the threat of vermin and vice we remove the beauty of the environment from the skies. Fishing for birds: what a waste, a disgrace, a testament to the very thing we need to change: our way of life, our ways of thinking.