Who owns our food, our water, our power, even our weather? A question worth considering . . .
Jon Rappaport sums it up best once again . . .
“It’s a straight con.
Don’t get caught in the word game which confuses Communism, Socialism, the Corporate State, Fascism, and Crony Capitalism.
When you put all these terms through the wash, they come out looking the same. They mean power at the top, disguised to appear as popular movements.”
It’s been a while since I’ve posted spray day pics, but have no fear, the geoengineers are still at it. There are rumors the heavy metal particulates in these man-made ‘clouds’ have intensified the fires in California. I can only repeat what I hear, I do not know.
But I can look in my own sky and see this. Spray begins. Gorgeous blue sky. Cool and beautiful.
Spray continues. Skies get ugly, hazy and cobwebby.
By morning there is heavy fog and I have horrendous allergies.
I have not edited anything in these photos but the size in order to fit here. The color of the sky, the crispness of the air, not to mention the beautiful clarity are so obvious I’m in shock and awe that folks still call ‘chemtrails’ and geoengineering a conspiracy theory. Or that they can look at this ugly mess and think anything good could ever come of it.
The artificial chemical induced ‘sun dog’. Not so rare these days.
And to make it worse it continues still, I could take a dozen more pics right now as the sky gets further trashed by the hour. If I breathe too deeply my throat burns and I start sneezing.
I am grateful to the activists who have helped me understand at least some of what is happening here with ‘geoengineering’ like Dane Wigington, who continues to insist we all stop calling it ‘chemtrails’. I’m fine with that, but I wish there was a word that describes what I’m seeing in equally derisive sentiment. It looks like chemical trails, and it smells like them, too. The various ‘scientific terms’ sound far too benign: solar radiation management, stratospheric aerosol injection, climate remediation, ionizing the atmosphere, whatever the hell they are doing and want to call it, whatever, it’s not like I get a vote.
But if I did, I’d call it weather terrorism.
The fiction of our supposed great U.S. ‘health care’ system. It’s really a system of bullying and intimidation with ever-dwindling choices, outrageous costs and lots and lots of DEATH and disease!
On becoming my own Authority
I have been fortunate enough to be able to fashion a life that affords me more freedom than the vast majority of the world’s population. While there was a fair degree of luck in this good fortune, there was also a fair degree of sacrifice, and I believe, a dash of ancestral wisdom.
Could it be because my Sir name is Shepard that I now find myself so comforted sitting among the pups and sheep? I’m not saying one has a destiny that could be decoded so simply as through a name, though I do think the clues to our destiny, individually and collectively, are all around us in every moment.
What it takes to see the clues is the very thing The System works to deny us: Unstructured time. The System calls this loafing.
Time to absorb, to reflect, to introspect, to daydream. Time to watch the sheep and the pups.
This is different from what The System does provide in order to replace unstructured time, which is Entertainment. Which, by its nature, is extremely well-structured.
I find the path the thoughts take in unstructured time is intrinsically connected to creativity, which is a joy in its own right and not necessarily a precursor to productivity.
Where my thoughts go, I imagine, are at once beyond time and space and amalgamation of time and space, co-creating the pathways to the Self.
In the Western world today there is loads of criticism directed at the narcissism of the youth. I believe this is primarily a grammatical and perception issue. Just because the younger generation prefers Selfies and the Internet more than old Westerns and glib conversation does not necessarily make them more narcissistic than previous generations.
I think they are searching for paths to Self that are becoming increasingly more difficult to sense as the social structure becomes increasingly hostile to individuality.
Or, maybe the social structures have always been hostile to individuation, and the youth, generation by generation, continue to claw away at that putrefying foundation.
Maybe, on the inside, with every social Selfie they scream, “I will be seen! My presence here will be recorded in time! I will matter!” They just can’t figure out how and why they will matter, because we lost that thread several generations ago.
Could it be they sense that time for them is running out? Could it be an act of desperation to record every moment and connect it somehow with the world at large? Could it be that we, of the older generations, in our criticism of their narcissism is a reflection of our own narcissism? Is it our own non-acceptance of a role that told us when we were children that which I heard so often in my own upbringing: “Children are to be seen and not heard.” Are we subtly sensoring them due to our own unprocessed fear? Are we repeating to them with our criticism, ‘don’t be the tall nail or you’ll get hammered down’? Or my personal favorite: “Don’t be so entitled.”
Who are the black sheep of today’s youth I wonder sometimes as I’m watching the sheep. Maybe that’s where our criticism should be directed. Where have they gone? Have we been so successful as a ‘civilization’ that we have managed to breed out the black sheep?
On becoming my own Authority I’ve realized I have an amazing gift of finding my own teachers when I’m left with my own instincts and unstructured time. This is often thanks to technology, but not always. There is so much knowledge being shared on Youtube that our television hangs nearly useless in the living room most days. I’d bet The System calls most of these at least arrogant, if not narcissistic. How dare they skirt the established hierarchy and create their own channels. How dare they question their social roles, or entice, indeed, provoke me to question mine. The System calls them just another nutter with a podcast. A so-called lone wolf or black sheep.
Here is one such ‘teacher of the week’ for me. I hope his narcissism peaks for many videos to come, because he’s got great gifts to share, just as we all do.
Michael Black was introduced to me by two other powerful teachers at Unslaved.com: Michael Tsarion and David Whitehead
Below in the video The Endgame for the United States, Mr. Black talks about the inevitable MEGACITY of the near future and its myriad challenges according to the Pentagon.
He delves more into that pesky Progress and what it’s doing to the individual and the world. He advises one thing here I am inclined to advise against, which is, leave here if you can.
Defeatism, I suggest, Mr. Black. Don’t undermine us, we just may have the ancestral wisdom and courage to stand and fight. If only we could get the youth to see there’s something here still worth fighting for.
I lived for decades at the command of Time, Inc. That’s how I understand it after nearly a decade now adjusting to the rhythm of nature. Before that I’d lived like most others in the post-industrial world with a calendar that was invented not by nature but by men. As a young student bells sent me scurrying from one room to another along with the rest of my peers.
I didn’t like it even then, didn’t understand it, though I was always curious and loved learning. But as I had known nothing else, as a university student I thought it a fantastic improvement to be free to walk from building to building based on my watch, free-range and bell-free.
I thought Time, Inc. was ingenious as it got me on the planes and trains and kept me punctual for my various social roles as a student, a teacher, a patient, a shopper, a volunteer, and the various other obligations of ‘she who is participating.’ The clock got me to the concerts on time.
“Get in the game!” was the advice from all directions. I did sometimes question this word, ‘the game.’ Is that what this is?
I have never been a big player of games; I don’t particularly like them. At one point it occurred to me, so, if this really is a game, I can choose whether or not to play?
So, slowly, little by little, I began to remove myself from the game. Like all games the ones who’ve created the game make the rules. It is only a one who follows the rules who wins the game. You may scoff at this analogy now and say, but there’s so much corruption and crime and it clearly pays, so it’s actually breaking the rules which gets one ahead. If this is what you are thinking, you haven’t yet understood the game. The game is working as it is meant to function.
I figured not only did I not make the rules of the game, I don’t particularly like it and I started to resent all the advice that insisted I continue playing it. Seems logical enough that you can’t win a game if you don’t like playing it. Or, maybe you can, but then you’d be winning just to win and not because you enjoyed playing. Not really my style.
Notice I have now started five paragraphs with “I.” I do this quite deliberately.
“I” is who I know, not you, not we, not them. To know oneself is not to know all men and this is part of the on-going collectivist brainwashing flooding the culture. We are not all one. We are not all in this together. We are not all created equal. In fact, we should, in my opinion, stop striving for equality altogether. It’s not working.
I admit, I was once one who said such things as this on my first website nearly 20 years ago: “Once we have leveled the playing field in education around the globe communication will flourish and then we can call ourselves One World.”
I had drunk the Kool-Aid. I really believed this then. I was too young and optimistic to understand that ‘leveling the field’ meant leveling it to the least common denominator, not the greatest. I did not understand Globalism at all and thought ‘One World’ sounded pretty awesome and fun.
I was a card-caring member of Time, Inc.
I remember one night on the exquisite Old Town Square in the Czech Republic gazing with a large group of tourists many an evening at the famed Prague Orloj, a working astronomical clock 600 years old. It was one of my favorite spots in the city, a city where I was lucky enough to live before the latest great invasion of mass tourism.
I remember what the Charles Bridge looked like at night in winter with only a handful of locals walking over it. Back then there was a free puppet show behind a makeshift stand under the bridge where I sat on the ground with a dozen children listening to them laugh, which was making me laugh. That was 1989. I have photos somewhere in a box that are mostly blurry or dark, sometimes in black and white, because that was the only film I could find there to buy.
Fast forward a decade, then two, and you can barely get over the bridge and it has become a sort of tourist marketplace. That pesky Progress at work again.
I’m not bitter, though I know I sound that way sometimes. I still have my memories, one of the few states which has remained, at least in part, at least for now, beyond Time, Inc.
So it was one night, as I said, on the exquisite Old Town Square gazing with a large group of tourists (not quite this large!) waiting for the Apostles on the clock to do their nightly dance, when an English-speaking drunken youth passes between the clock and the upward gazers, his back to the crowd, raises his arms in worship and slurs at the top of his lungs as it begins to chime on the hour, “Oh my God! Oh my God! OHMYGODOHMYGOD!!!!” Falling to his knees theatrically then, to the astonishment and awkward chuckles and eye rolls from the crowd.
I laughed at the time, mostly at the audacity of it. Now I wonder if that sauced joker realized how genius his move actually was. And how memorable.
I turn 49 next week. Nearly half a century here and I have recorded a good bit of my journey. My intention is to stick around a good bit more, most days I feel I’ve surely got another 50 to go.
Maybe no one, or more precisely, a precious few, care to read my records or ramblings. This blog is maybe nothing more than the diaries I’ve written from ages 12-45, only to eventually discard. That is on paper, easy to eliminate, by fire, or compost, or any other number of ways. My online ramblings are permanent, or at least their permanence or lack there of, is out of my control, completely.
It is sometimes like a daily offense, just that fact alone, yet I know I could walk away from it at any moment. It is seeped in a weakness I share with many others. Monitor yourself vs stop monitoring yourself. Share yourself vs retreat inward. Public vs private space.
I feel I was pushed out of academia largely on issues concerning privacy—my own, and my students. Yet on the other hand, my life is quite the open book, much more than Handy Hubby appreciates, I know. In any case, it’s hard to complain when I’m glad it happened.
On ‘ratemyprofessors.com’ I’d had scathing performance reviews so much so I had to stop looking there after only two visits. That was many years ago and I’ve avoided my ‘public profile’ ever since, but I never lost my teaching jobs until I said, “No, I won’t do that.”
I will not violate my students’ privacy in this way. I will not become their task-master. Cheerleader is one thing, drill sergeant is quite another. I will not step on this slippery slope of the complete surveillance grid, no matter how you try to sell it or push it. I will not simply follow orders. I will not accept whatever comes down the pipeline without question.
Indoctrination is not education. Social conditioning should never be the aim of teaching. That was why I went toward academia in the first place, because I was apparently duped into believing that didn’t happen here. This was not McDonalds. This was not the Army.
Online now I see the world erupting. Academics and scientists dismissed readily as complete frauds. Hollywood is satanic, the United States is a corporation under maritime law, elite reptilians rule over us all, the moon is a mirage, and the Earth may very well be flat.
And I’m one of the precious few who say, without a hint of mocking, ‘BRING IT ON!”
The weather is being manipulated, I know that for sure. I saw through the staged political-media theater since the Iran-Contra hearings. I lived in Mena, Arkansas and spoke with folks, and that’s all I’m saying here about that. I heard directly, first person, enough to make me understand reality as I had not before.
The weather has been weaponized. Our government was usurped long ago. Now connect those two dots.
There is still a denial in the general public to face the dire facts though they are surrounding us for anyone with the courage to look and discover.
I do not claim to be an authority, I am not, will not and never want to be. Indoctrination was never my intention and never will be. That my intentions might be misunderstood provokes me to spend a bit of time and words unraveling . . .
I am a steward of this land, that’s what called me here. And for the next few posts I’d like to share what that means to me, for those precious few.
Naked Sunday and redneck holiday fun! 🙂 🙂
Motivational interview of the week, considering it’s a miserable 95 degrees again, after a few unseasonably gorgeous days feeling of fall: