R U OK?

R U OK?

This question was emblazoned on a bright yellow t-shirt with a smiley face, gifted from Hubby’s place of employment several years ago.  It’s been the butt of jokes ever since.

Folks can’t even talk to their own loved ones about how they’re really feeling, but the wise guys in Human Resources imagine a worker will feel motivated to show and tell thanks to a cheesy slogan on a free t-shirt.  That’s a special brand of marketing brilliance right there.

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I suppose there’s more than a few veterans who feel this way, too—they need to communicate how they’re feeling as a form of psychic hygiene—yet when they do there’s a half a dozen ‘highly-trained’ shrinks taking notes and filling the next DSM with their dysfunctional honesty and using their confessions to prescribe a list of solutions based entirely on poppycock.

Happy.  Sad.  Angry.  Bored.  Afraid.  Please to check appropriate box.  That’s become, please to choose appropriate emoji.

But, How are you really feeling?  These times are being prescribed as the days that try men’s souls—so I am asking out of sincere caring—how are you really feeling?  I suspect you don’t even have sufficient words to describe it, since feelings came long before words, which is why man had to invent art.  And then reduce it to emojis.

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Did you ever consider that love and fear are both feelings of petrification?  They are emotions of freezing in time and space.  They serve to protect the species through seduction.  In love we long for time to stand still, yet it races.  In our memory or subconscious it takes hours to sift through minutes.  As in fear time seems to stand still, an agonizing splitting into nanoseconds.

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Can’t tell the forest for the trees?

Where were you when JFK was shot?  Who told you about 9/11?  What were you doing when the hurricane hit?  Why didn’t you evacuate/shelter in place/donate/volunteer/follow orders/surrender your weapon/buy ammo/plant a garden . . .??

How are you really feeling?  Does it fit in the box?

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Mama Chop says don’t be shy!

Fear, like love, are the static aspects of feelings that are meant to cause actions—those of survival—run for your life, or care for another’s.

Does fear, or love, inspire you to action?  Why, or, why not?

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Handsome lads on dogwood petals

Please feel free to reply at length in space below.  True empathic response to follow.

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Channel your fear, says Buttercup!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tyranny or Freewill

I know they mean well, but the podcasters and bloggers and various other ‘social influencers’ who at the moment are espousing some variant of “make the best of it” really just don’t get it.  Don’t think of it as quarantine.  Click past the media hype and overcome the social distancing, they say, through ‘personal growth’ work.

Such utter nonsense. Use this as an opportunity to take up a new hobby, they repeat, learn something new, organize your closets, take an online class, and loads of other banal advice that demonstrate unequivocally how disconnected they really are from the core of the issue.  Throw someone into solitary confinement and then insist he’ll be a better person for it.  Adversity builds character, right?  Occasionally it does, but more often, it does not.

Stop thinking, and start feeling, I’d advise them, if they were listening to me.  It’s a very different beast to choose isolation than to have it forced upon you.  It feels different, because it is like the exact polar opposite.

We were avid travelers, Hubby and I, before and after we met.  Being forced to evacuate, twice, was absolutely nothing like the feeling of choosing one’s own time and place of adventure.  That I was somehow expected to smash these bipolar feelings together was actually really offensive.  I got that advice constantly, too.  Think of it as an opportunity, I heard from everyone who claimed they cared.  Go volunteer.  Be the bigger person.  You’re not really homeless.  Show them what you’re made of.  Seriously?  And you label this empathy?  Give me a break, pronto, please!   The perfect opportunity presenting itself to me then was, and still is, to drop those self-righteous idiots like hot potatoes.

It’s very different believing something intellectually, taking steps toward verifying that belief in order to quantify it as knowing, and the spin cycle that’s required for the Positivity Virus to see every insane challenge as an opportunity.  Don’t panic.  Get resilient.  Don’t fret over your lost job.  Don’t contemplate the doom of mandatory vaccinations or the gloom of martial law.  No pain no gain.  Think of it as a character-builder.  Rise to the Occassion.  Raise your vibration.  Find the silver lining.  Dig deep. Help others.  Why?  Because we say so.  Because that’s what it means to be a good person.  So, the slave class abides.

If you ask, but, how do you know this?  I did ‘the work’ they reply.  The Work.  The Great Work. That means, They know.  They got to choose it, or at least, not to choose it.  Now they insist everyone become as enlighten and evolved and woke, by saving your friends and community from your fatal invisible germs. Good for you, good for them, good for all.

When the so-called free-thinkers start to cooperate with the government mandates, and insist you do to, it might be the right time to unsub.

Personal growth work, by force.  The beatings will continue until moral improves.  Personal growth work, through shaming tactics.  Become a better team player through home quarantine.  We couldn’t get you to evolve yourself to fit our agenda in the easy way, so really, it was your choice.  We’ve been trying to breed and mold the ideal global hive for a century, we’re nearly there, there’s just a few million more pesky free-thinkers we need to convert, that is, convince.  Everything we do is for your own good.

I told that to my bees today when I went to inspect their colonies.  I said, “Hi my bees! I’m from the government and I’m here to help!”

They were not convinced.  One colony actually crafted themselves a very unconventional upside-down foyer, apparently because they called mutiny on my restricted access portal.  The brazen nerve of them!  I told them they would get robbed mercilessly with this approach.  They did not abide!  And they were robbed mercilessly, just as I’d predicted.

Now those frightful rebels have created a super strong colony by virtue of fighting off all those thieves.  They’re like ninja warrior bees!

How dare they successfully trump my sub-par, ignorant efforts at micro-management!

A quick look at their valiant efforts, please excuse my poor video skills!

 

 

 

Take Control of Your Soul

“Don’t let them take your mind, man.”  Conspiracy Music Guru (aka Flat Earth Man)

That tablet, that TV, that hand-held radiation device.  Put it down.  Take a walk.  Let me try to inspire that action.

A68FCAFD-D6B5-4566-826B-5C44594BCB59Texas squaw weed, the bees like it, stop mowing it and spraying it with poison, please.

This sh*t, my greatest garden/forest nemesis, I pull it, smash it, dig it up, even spray it, with sadistic pleasure.  Luckily, sheep and goats love it, so soon it will go from invasive weapon of torture to practically eradicated effortlessly on this wee homestead.

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Poison ivy, run for your life!

Don’t let them take your mind.  You think Flat Earth theory is weird?  What about that which you are living right now, seem weird at all?  Natural?  Normal? Do you like the world you’re co-creating all around you?

There’s another world.  There’s another way.  It doesn’t have to be like this.  Trade your prison walls for a glimpse of what’s really REAL.

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Serviceberry, Juneberry, Amalanchier arborosa, ‘discovered’ on our property for the first time, always something new!

Pretend for one hour the earth is flat, right beneath your feet, the screen is an illusion, cyberspace is just that, space.  Walk on the flat earth under your feet and feel what life on a flat earth feels like, just for an hour, just because, really, what else of consequence are you really doing right now?

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Vetch, another spring-blooming so-called ‘nuisance’ weed the bees like, but the farmers don’t.

Mullein makes great toilet paper, fyi.  Try shopping your local forest.  😉

mullein

 

Interviewed by Crrow777

This is a revisit from over a year ago, because, I still really love these guys.  I was nervous as all hell, I can hear it clearly in my voice, they were the smooth professionals at every level, trying to help me along.

What a humbling pleasure it is and was to have had the opportunity to be honest and awkward before two real gentlemen doing their best to make me look good!

The present crisis is no mystery to them, or to us here on the wee homestead.  This is what we’ve been preparing for and maybe now a few more understand how crucial is self-reliance and local sovereignty.  I repost it because I suspect more will be understanding now how much we need to get back to basics.

Never been a better time to get growing! 🙂

True Healing

My favorite podcast, Unslaved, has just had an interview with an amazing couple that I must pass along.

The wisdom they impart in their practice: Heal your body and your mind and spirit will follow. (The first hour of the interview is free, but requires registration—well worth it!) Episode 169: Awakening Somatic Intelligence (Yerasimos Stilianessis & Sophie Fletcher) – Unslaved

The intense armoring of the individual and of the culture, caused from ancestral trauma that is being constantly recycling with each new generation from lack of healing, are pertinent themes in this interview.

Yerasimos, whose parents were Greek immigrants, carved out his unusual work and life path the same way most of us do when attempting to navigate the road less traveled—by following the small, still voice of the soul and finding his inspiration in the journey—with plenty of heartache and tribulations and loneliness along the way.

Like for me, the short novel by Herman Hesse, Siddhartha, was also a catalyzing force.

“And Siddartha’s soul returned, died, decayed, turned into dust, experienced the troubled course of the life cycle. He waited with new thirst like a hunter at a chasm where the life cycle ends, where there is an end to causes, where painless eternity begins. He killed his senses, he killed his memory, he slipped out of his Self in a thousand different forms. He was animal, carcass, stone, wood, water, and each time he reawakened. The sun or the moon shone, he was again Self, swung into the life cycle, felt thirst, conquered thirst, felt new thirst.”

Emboding the archetype of the wounded healer, Yerasimos opened a unique healing practice in the Los Angeles vicinity.

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“For me, that was life-changing as it seemed to crystallize so much of what I had learned up until that point, but most of all, I was able to personally experience a much deeper understanding of the role the body plays in any healing process and how the body truly is the hard drive for our experiences in our lives, storing traumatic events, repressed emotions, and lost memories, as well as all the stress and toxicity from our lifestyle choices and interactions with our environment.” http://voyagela.com/interview/meet-yerasimos-stilianessis-healing-yerasimos-santa-monicavenice/

288BC33E-CA2F-40F2-8AB6-F7CBF55169C2“From a bodywork perspective, there are two main modalities that I use in my practice. The first one is an unconventional technique where I use my feet along with deep, rhythmic pressure and walk on different parts of the body that correlate with the Chinese meridians (electromagnetic channels in the body).”

A perfect quote from his website http://www.healingwithyerasimos.com/

“When Health is absent Wisdom cannot reveal itself, Art cannot become manifest, Strength cannot be exerted, Wealth is useless, and Reason is powerless.” Herophilus, 300 BC

Wheel of Fortune (part 2)

I think much of the time what we are apt to call a miracle is actually uncanny synchronicity in one’s favor.  One of the many misfortunes of 2019 for us on the wee homestead was our young ram got fatally wounded just two days after introducing him to his harem. 

From a financial standpoint this is unfortunate, because not only did we purchase him, but we’d also been feeding him for several months by then.  More than the money though, it was a sad and at the time mysterious accident, which I wrote about here.

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After some time and reflection we figured what must’ve happened to the poor guy was that he got between our boar and his food and got himself gored, right in the gut.  That’s how we found him, still walking around, with his guts coming out.  He hadn’t even noticed yet.

For anyone out there who’s considering getting pigs someday, take note, never get between a boar and his food or his harem, no matter how docile and even friendly that boar might seem normally.

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In fact, the same friend who sold us our Red Wattles sold another friendly boar to a woman who made that awful mistake.  This was a terrifying situation for her, I can imagine, when she, alone at home, got gored by the boar in the thigh.  She had to crawl back from the corral to her car and drive herself to the ER.  She lost so much blood she nearly died, had serious surgery followed by six months of rehab.  A word to the wise.

But here’s the miraculous part of the story.  In just two days of freedom, that young ram got some real action going!  We thought we’d have a lamb-less spring, and we are tickled pink that’s not the case.

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The chances of this happening are slimmer than most might imagine.  He was working against great odds, in fact.  He hadn’t mingled with the girls previously, and they showed no interest in him at all when he joined their posse.  The older ones were downright rude to him, the younger ones very apprehensive. 

He showed immense interest, of course, but still, he must’ve been very persistent in a very short time. And, the chances they would happen to be cycling right then, well we figured there wasn’t any hope.

Nature’s little miracles are blessings indeed.  🙂

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