âOncology at the end of the twentieth century and early 21st century runs unethical trials with inappropriate control arms, poor post protocol care, bad crossover, and many other games, which makes companies rich and people poor. Cancer doctors take payments for these companies and go along with this narrative. The system is so rotten and corrupt and pervasive we canât even recognize it as such.Â
History will view these are dark days. Where marginal drugs were given to dying people, government taxing poor people to pay for it, and doctors captured by companies to push these products, and everyone patting themselves on the back and the US bankrupts itself with inappropriate, harmful, useless care.â
âWhile I do recognize that some of allopathic medicineâs contributions to trauma care are noteworthy and worth preserving in some format, I also see that at itâs heart, the Germ Theory mentality that pervades the medical academic establishment (no matter how well intended by individuals in those systems) is not about healing, but is in fact, antithetical to life.
The machine thinking of Allopathic medicine which treats the human body as a molecular machine in need of being kept sterile and well greased by an array of chemicals and synthetic lab made substances is like the modern government funded environmentalist program that tries to quantify everything down to carbon units, obsessing over limiting them or sequestering them with more machines, while avoiding/ignoring the fact that it is machines that decimated the environment in the first place and continue to (whether they are lithium powered or gas powered) and not even beginning to take into account other variables such as the massive influence that old growth forests (or the lack thereof) have on hydrological cycles as well as carbon cycles.
It is like the machine thinking of the Big Ag Chemical companies and conventional GMO monoculture farmer who, when faced with diminishing returns due to soil erosion, nutrient leaching, desertification, decreasing mineral and nutritional content in crops (due to soil depletion brought about by extractive and exploitative farming practices) and facing herbicide resistant âweedsâ, decides to double down and create even more powerful machines to till the soil harder, faster, inculcate the crop plants with an ever more potent array of synthetic chemicals and petroleum based NPK to keep them alive (on the equivalent of a combination of life support and hard drugs) and decides to create and use even more potent biocides and herbicides to kill all life in the soil in order to squeeze increasingly meager returns out of an abused and dying landscape.
Those are systems of machine thinking, treating living complex systems that are defined and only capable of being healthy, stable and resilient by the myriad symbiotic relationships woven within and around them as simple machines. Both involve one dimensional ways of thinking attempting to understand, heal and make whole multi-dimensional entities.
The âtrust the scienceâ proclaiming doctor attempting to treat anti-biotic drug resistant bacteria infected wounds with more and more powerful anti-biotic drugs is like the techno-optimist self-proclaimed environmental activist cheering for more machines (perhaps lithium powered machines) to be built which are supposed to solve the problems created by the previous machines.â
There are two replies I generally hear from others when I attempt to talk about geoengineering and weather modification which I also often see in the comments section of others posting about this topic.
So this post Iâm going to share some new links and quotes and personal observations in the hope that folks really start to get a better sense of the scope of this issue.
So few folks are even aware of the long history of weather modification, though itâs been well-documented and these days is very easy to research.
This is something Iâve written about many times already, because it sets a precedent. I am no longer going to bother with this vast history in future posts, because now there are plenty of others talking about it online.
Iâve noticed that when someone is aware of the long history of weather modification, they usually reply that itâs just about âcloud seedingâ which is no big deal, they say, theyâve been doing it forever, so whatâs the problem?
As Agentâs Substack starkly points out, thereâs nothing safe & effective about cloud seeding. And if youâd like the ugly truth expressed in some pretty harsh terms, I urge you to read his article. (Some of his work is behind a paywall)
âTheyâre just cloud seeding, itâs not chemtrails! Itâs harmless!â, they tell us. In fact, it’s so harmless that the vast majority of states in the US have some form of seeding program currently taking place. Many of them are funded with our tax dollars, but some are sponsored by corporations you would never expect to be involved in GeoEngineering. Idaho Power currently spends $4 million a year on cloud seeding which results in a 12% increase in snow in some areas. Although the internet assures us Cloud Seeding is super-duper safe, today we are going to look at what chemicals are being spammed into the atmosphere, according to the Manufacturers of the chemicals and a crazy CDC document I unearthed.â
Heâs also shared his sky photos in another recent article and has lots more geoengineering materials.
âI had an idea for an experiment: Pick a month and photograph and/or video the sky every day in 2023 then wait a year and do it again in the same month, then compare the GeoEngineering. Would there be anything to learn from this? Letâs find outâŚ
âFirst, they (meaning, The Powers that Be) claim the suns rays are harmful and causing Climate Change (Global Warming), therefore, to keep the temperature of earth down, they need to block it. This is not a conspiracy theory, it is well documented. I have written a number of articles on the topic. They have been discussing blocking the sun since the 1960s and NASA was doing extensive research in the early 1980s which involved releasing chemicals into the sky and running tests to see how much of the suns rays were blocked. They began planning heavily in the early 1990s. read my piece 1992: Should we Spray Sulfuric Acid or Dust to Block the Sun? In the mid-to-late 1990s, only a few years after the 1992 document, people in the USA began reporting white grids and lines appearing in the sky. These grids and lines blocked the sun.â
A friend in UK driving to her vacation destination recently sent me some pics of the sad state of the skies there. Look familiar?
I wish I had better news. Itâs not good. Itâs not benevolent. Itâs not about saving us from global warming or helping our farmers cope with droughts. Itâs not about that AT ALL.
Thatâs just the cover story, because there always has to be a cover story.
Itâs about weaponizing the weather for control purposes of war and power. Now itâs also being used to force populations in myriad ways and fleece everyone with ridiculous carbon schemes. The academic publications which hype on and on about climate change do not talk about geoengineering as an on-going global operation, but as mere proposals, and this is how theyâll lock in their âWorld Governanceâ.
As the public outcry grows, so the solutions will be put into place.
Screenshot
Several US states have gotten on this bandwagon to outlaw geoengineering on various levels, which will have zero impact, because itâs a global issue, by design.
Screenshot
âTo prostitute the elementsâ : Weather Control and Weaponization by the US Dept of Defense by R. Pincus 2017 War & Society p. 64-80
âThe US military has a long and robust history of scientific research programs, often conducted in conjunction with civilian scientists at non-military governmental agencies as well as universities. These programs flourished in the immediate post-Second World War and the early cold war years, as the field of military science expanded to address the sprawling Soviet threat. One area of growth was in atmospheric science, which had already taken off preceding Second World War in conjunction with the growth of air warfare. Advances in meteorology, cloud science and climatology enabled military interests to align with weather forecasters and also agricultural interests, as old ideas about cloud seeding and weather control were revived in the light of new research. The military, largely through the Air Force, advanced a series of projects investigating the potential of weather and climate control, manipulation, and ultimately weaponisation.â
What we have are Global Public-private partnerships cooperating internationally to manipulate the weather and change the climate as well as fleece the populace with projects that do not help the people.
Like these: the Greenhouse Gas Removal by Enhanced Weathering (GGREW) projects
âOne example of a research project on the feasibility of enhanced weathering is the CarbFix project in Iceland.[33][34][35]â
âAn Irish company named Silicate has run trials in Ireland and in 2023 is running trials in the USA near Chicago. Using concrete crushed down to dust it is scattered on farmland on the ratio 500 tonnes to 50 hectares, aiming to capture 100 tonnes of CO2 per annum from that area. Claiming it improves soil quality and crop productivity, the company sells carbon removal credits to fund the costs. The initial pilot funding comes from prize money awarded to the startup by the THRIVE/Shell Climate-Smart Agriculture Challenge.[36][37]â
Iâve been documenting some of whatâs been happening in our skies for nearly a decade. It is not cooling us, it is not stabilizing our rainfall, itâs the exact opposite. And, they know this!
âIn their own words from one of their reports, the Royal Aeronautical Society (based in London): âthe current overall effect of contrails and contrail cirrus is a net warming â about 1.5 times that of aviationâs C02â. This is a smoking gun because it affirms that what they are doing is actually having the opposite effect of what they claim to be doing. Itâs warming things, not cooling it.â
But what do academics concern themselves with? Issues of governance, because, warmer temperatures might increase small arms purchases. And other GLOBAL concerns about the control of the ornery plebs.
In my last post I included a recent photo from our area. These are the among the ânew cloud speciesâ which some will actually tell you have always been there, we just never noticed them before Smartphones. Yes, Iâve actually heard this ridiculous answer on multiple annoying occasions.
âMammatus cloudsâ they call them, because to name them is to normalize them. And the kids grow up âknowingâ and are diligently taught to accept anything that has a name. Thatâs Science!
The official sites, the academic sites ALWAYS normalize, thatâs their job. The rest of us are just all crazy conspiracy theorists. See, totally normal, because itâs right there in the International Cloud Atlas!
Thanks for reading folks, please research and pass along information!
I donât know when the breaking point will be, how it will come about, who will throw the first punch or the last. But, Iâve got some good quotes to share this post, of the variety that make me wonder if the public has finally had enough of the lies.
Or, was Bezmenov right? Itâs hopeless at this point?
More false claims about raw milk, inspiring a good article from a wise woman, Sally Fallon of Weston A. Price. A few quotes:
âIn a press release dated March 25, 2024,3 the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), Food and Drug Administration (FDA) and Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), as well as state veterinary and public health officials, announced investigation of “an illness among primarily older dairy cows in Texas, Kansas, and New Mexico that is causing decreased lactation, low appetite, and other symptoms.”
âThe agencies claim that samples of unpasteurized milk from sick cattle in Kansas and Texas have tested positive for “highly pathogenic avian influenza (HPAI).” Officials blame the outbreak on contact with “wild migratory birds” and possibly from transmission between cattle. The press release specifically warns against consumption of raw milk, a warning repeated in numerous publications and Internet postings.â
âThe truth is that “viruses” serve as the whipping boy for environmental toxins, and in the confinement animal system, there are lots of them â hydrogen sulfide, carbon dioxide, methane and ammonia from excrement, for example.  Then there are toxins in the feed, such as arsenic added to chicken feed, and mycotoxins, tropane and β-carboline alkaloids in soybean meal.  By blaming nonexistent viruses, agriculture officials can avoid stepping on any big industry toes nor add to the increasing public disgust with the confinement animal system.â
âNearly a decade ago we won the mandatory national Radio Frequency Animal Identification (RFID) regulation.  It was pushed on the heels of the mad cow paranoia as a way to track and find diseases quickly.â
For you youngsters, it was a draconian measure that was incredibly prejudiced against small outfits. For example, a Tyson factory could register one RFID tag for a whole house of 20,000 chickensâone per flock. But an outfit like ours would have to RFID every single chicken. Costs ranged from $2 to $5 per tag.
                  Every time you moved animals from one addressed premise to another, you had to notify authorities.  Thousands of farmers around the country attended the hearings and voiced their opposition.  The backlash was severe and eventually the USDA pulled the plan.  Itâs been dormant for a long time and we thought it was dead.â
********
Moving on to an essay that hits close to the mark, I think.
âIn an election year that follows more than a decade of rising populist dissatisfaction, high-skill but low-status rejects are coming to look like a formidable social class.
Increasingly, itâs not just obscure farmers or overtaxed truckers who feel cheated out of the respect theyâve earned: itâs also debt-ridden college kids, heterodox tech magnates and blacklisted intellectuals. Itâs manual laborers whose wages get depressed by inflation and illegal immigration, but itâs also artists whose projects get passed over to make room for yet another adaptation of The Color Purple. This helps explain why Trump has mobilized young people, blue-collar workers, white evangelicals, law-abiding Hispanics and black business owners, all in unexpected numbers: those are people who feel, in one way or another, despised without cause.
But the bitter irony is that in trying to outdo the foundersâ virtue, we have created an unnatural aristocracy far more hide-bound and unworthy than the old-world royalty they fled. Our self-styled betters have neither raised us up toward a more perfect meritocracy nor led us triumphantly into a classless paradise. They have simply replaced an imperfect class system with a grotesque and nonsensical one. They promised to cater to throngs of frustrated pariahs; instead, they created more of them, adding to their number daily from the exiles of the natural aristocracy. Whether or not it is desirable that the resulting coalition should once again find itself represented by Donald Trump â a profoundly suboptimal champion â it was inevitable. This presidential contest is shaping up into a face-off between the incompetent elect and the excellent outcasts. It may not be the most exhilarating choice to have to face. But itâs not a particularly difficult one, either.â
And closing with an appropriate poem that was posted in the commentâs section of the post by Salatin quoted above. An author Iâm very familiar with, but the poem is new to me.
THE WRATH OF THE AWAKENED SAXON by Rudyard Kipling
It was not part of their blood, It came to them very late, With long arrears to make good, When the Saxon began to hate.
They were not easily moved, They were icy — willing to wait Till every count should be proved, Ere the Saxon began to hate.
Their voices were even and low. Their eyes were level and straight. There was neither sign nor show When the Saxon began to hate.
It was not preached to the crowd. It was not taught by the state. No man spoke it aloud When the Saxon began to hate.
It was not suddently bred. It will not swiftly abate. Through the chilled years ahead, When Time shall count from the date That the Saxon began to hate.
I have to applaud our reader Highlander for sharing this musician who has me laughing so hard I have tears streaming down my cheeks! Nothing like a good laugh for health. So, first the fun stuff.
I believe this kind of âmeaningful entertainmentâ is an excellent way to spread the word about unpleasant news.
Another good one Iâve shared in the past, not a parody tune, a ballad, and very sad.
And, winding down, if you can muster the courage, Daneâs weekly Bad News Broadcast, which I never miss (much to Hubbyâs chagrin!)
Keep laughinâ, keep preppinâ, and thanks for stopping by! đ¤
When I lived in Europe in the 90s it was not too uncommon to see an amazing castle for sale for a pittance. I do mean a real castle, or a vast country estate that included a structure that once was a castle.
And I do mean a pittance, as in, they were not able to give these places away.
Vauburg, France (not my image), bit of a multi-generational hodge-podge.
Sometimes that was because they came with strings attached, so I can understand. Or it was designated for a specific purpose or with strict regulations. You had to restore it, for example, which was something that cost so much that the just wealthy could not afford it.
I had a French boyfriend for a while, who boasted some aristocratic lineage and took me to the castle where his aunt still lived. I marveled at the exquisite property and at the lingering formality of his kin who addressed each other, that is as husband and wife, in the formal, using âvousâ.
Maybe the uber-wealthy could afford it, if they cared to, but they just didnât have the interest?
Or, which Iâm actually more inclined to think these days, even with their fortunes, they would not be able to restore it. Because the skills to accomplish such an extraordinary endeavor have been lost to time.
A single example of the dozens of architectural marvels which have been destroyed in our little city, with more on the chopping block all the time.
In those days I dreamed of becoming a travel writer, or a writer of historical fiction. So, itâs not a huge stretch for me now to covet an interest in such parallel stories here, today, locally.
This is the closest real city to us, Palestine. What Iâd call a small city today, though growing steadily. It was never more than a small city, as far as population goes. Just how it amassed such an amazing amount of great architecture is a real mystery to me. Though there are official stories.
I knew there was some interesting history there, and all around here, but itâs not like Iâve had a lot of time for exploring such idle pastimes, with all the work trying to build up a homestead.
But lately Iâve been squeezing in some time and loving it!
And of course, youâve got to blossom where youâre planted. I used to tour every castle or abbey or old walls or ruins I could find, whether in the Old Town of any European city or hamlet, or a day hike away from the nearest bus stop.
This Old World has entered center stage for me again thanks to the Cyber World, which is really kinda crazy. But, true.
Iâve seen this old church for sale the last few times while driving through the downtown streets marveling at the old buildings.
I stop for lunch, and at a favorite antique shop, where I see tourists, which I find delightful. Though they only have much interest in the antique shops and the cafes and the provided entertainment. Still, itâs fun hearing German in the tourist office and hearing ladies from places all around the region, even in a rainstorm, there to peruse what our little city has to offer.
I was a novice travel writer, until I met the love of my life, who I managed to lure from the beaches of Thailand to a trailer park in Mena, Arkansas.
Hubby and I at âRoman ruinsâ in Spain 2003ânote our cute matching outfitsâthat was not planned.
And look who returned the favor by luring me into the deep woods of East Texas to spend an exceptional amount of time doing menial labor. đ
I was also a beginner tour guide, Mayflower Tours. I lasted about two weeks, until I realized how unsuited I was to a job hosting a bus full of retirees for four-day trips to and around Branson, Missouri three times a month.
I think they weeded out a lot of us that way. There must be a trick to how many bossy seniors and cowboy theaters can be stomached for minimum wage, but I couldnât figure that out quite fast enough. Another potential career option in the toilet.
And yet . . .
When I see precious gems like this my imagination sparks just like those days in Spain, France, Germany, UK, Czech Republic, Poland . . . Ok, everywhere, just about everywhere. I was very much a Europhile. Still am.
And yet . . .
Iâm so struck by the lack of general interest. And knowledge. And, frankly, care.
I see the collapsing remnants of a structure worth saving. I see a history worth understanding and passing forward.
Thatâs the shot to inspire a buyerâs creative juices? Yikes. What about its real history, does anyone care? And, whereâs the roof?
But the Realtors, who are there to sell this precious gem, see little of that world, neither the past nor the true potential. Itâs such a shame. Such a very common, and so very confusing, big fat shame.
Will it become an âevent venueâ as they suggest? Itâs hard to imagine the kind of events that would make such a renovation effort worthwhile, or particularly palatable. Is there even such skilled workmanship available today?
Dare I question, true philanthropy, if it ever existed at all, is it dead?
There are many such gems in our little city, which suggest but mere clues to the true treasures in our midst, in plain sightâall teetering in a world of nearly forgotten but, dare I hope, at least a cyber-revival?
A taste of the hidden history in plain site, heâs getting to all the states eventually, and beyond, one of a great many channels sparking my renewed interests . . . đ
Some are shocked and appalled by this, as they should be, according to me. Others think it will be a fantastic improvement to human life, or a great way to make more fiat, or a solution to the burden on the caring professionals, or they love tech for techâs sake, or whatever.
Those of us who love history and dwell constantly on the question âhow has it come to thisâ were well aware of this potential because we study the trajectory of modern life. I could begin with the first critics centuries ago, but for brevity sake, Iâll start instead with my own life, the only history available to me to know thoroughly enough.
Working mother, divorced parents, step parents, then step siblings, professional daycares, neighborhood babysitters, after school programs, junk food, convenience food, lots of TV.âFamily history of: diabetes, heart disease, obesity, cancer, vision problems, depression, eczema, alcoholism, Parkinsonâs, and, you get the picture.
And I would not say my family life was bad. It was the typical American suburban life of a great many growing up in the 70s and 80s. Neither particularly good, nor bad, just normal. Normal, as in well-normalized.
Like most families my parents would joke about voting for the âlesser of two evilsâ. They probably learned that from their parents. My mom went to community college and got her degree once we were gone, in sociology. She worked full-time all her adult life and didnât regret it. My dad remained âupwardly mobileâ as his Protestant father taught him to be.
In fact, we have retired before him, and he has just had his first heart attack.
They are both still with us, but they do not read this blog, so I could say whatever I wanted. đ. But, thatâs not the point of this particular post.
Letâs leave it at thisâin hindsight, my unique perception of growing up this way is, in a nutshellâthere was not a lot of parenting happening.âThe results of this having widespread and devastating effects.
It is from these original seeds of pseudocare that have been not only consistently irrigated in our own territories, but have been dispersed throughout the world these last five-plus decades which has ensured the trajectory to the ridiculous place where we now find ourselves: Drowning in pseudocare so deeply we can scarcely recognize what real care looks like anymore.
Another quick peak at the fruits those seeds have produced.
Yet even facing all of this, Iâm still optimistic, as I have been all my life.âEven at the worst of times, even during a few prolonged worst of times, I mustâve still learned something vital from my half-assed upbringing and collapsing culture.
So, here it is, in another nutshell:
Believe in yourself, believe it can change, but donât practice in sidestepping the hard stuff.âAnd the hardest of the hard stuff is care, real careâfor yourself, for others, for the futureâthat is why we are here.âHow you go about that is your personal journey and your only real duty to discover and live.âThat is all there is to do in a life well-lived.
Which is why I want to once again quote an obvious example of someone doing exactly that, Gavin Mounsey, who is rocking the real care like a hurricane these days! Wait . . . What??âOk, terrible simile aside . . .
I believe he knows what needs to happen next and is becoming the living manifestation of that in his own life first, and passing it around.âLeading by example, itâs the only way.âItâs the same cardinal rule as storytellingâShow, donât tell.
âI want to give my energy to improving and increasing the resilience of my local community, not your hyper centralized one size fits all infrastructure.
âFreedom is not a consolatory prize that can be given to us to reward our obedience and capitulation to a system of violent coercion. It is not something that can be granted or provided to you by some government that wrote some thing on a piece of paper. Freedom is your birthright, and you either live it and embody it, or you allow yourself to be put in a mental cage by statists and other abusive institutions or individuals. My ancestors bloodlines are traced back to a people described in todayâs terms as The Gaels. âSaoirseâ is Irish Gaelic word for âFreedomâ. Saoirse is an ancient concept that comes from the original Brehon laws of the Druidic (and eventually Celtic) world before the time of Christ. In the times when that word was created, my ancient ancestors lived without a centralized state, without prisons and without police.
âSaoirse means many things to different people. For some it means freedom to think, express and freedom to learn, for others itâs the freedom of imagination and the freedom of the spirit. And for some it also means freedom to set up parallel societies.
âThis is one of the reasons that I included glimpses into two historical cultural cross sections of ancient cultures that existed without a centralized state and police/prison system in my essay as I feel that we can glean wisdom from stateless societies that existed for centuries to millennia in how to design more ethical, equitable, honest, Regenerative and practical ways to organize community, encourage amicable/respectful behaviour in humans and collaborate to leave this world a little bit more free and beautiful than it was when we got here after we are gone.
âWith all that being said, I want to emphasize that I think that placing any culture, group of people or individual on some pedestal as pure is unhealthy. I feel we should be vigilant to make sure we are not romanticizing their past nor romanticizing the potential of their worldviews to provide solutions to the present challenges we face.
âThe path to become connected to place with a reciprocal relationship, reverence and humility is the path to embrace indigeneity ourselves.
âIt is a great starting point to create pockets of decentralized resistance to oligarchic / statist tyranny as growing your own medicine and veggies may appear harmless, but in a parasitic global plutocracy it represents a decisive action that severs the tentacles of tyranny in a critically important aspect of our lives (how we access food and medicine). Thus, it is a radical and revolutionary act that appears benign to the hubristic philanthropaths and demociders, serving as a sort of covert sedition in a world governed by parasites that want us dependent, gardening to grow or own food and medicine is like a hammer wrapped in velvet that knee caps big pharmaâs plans to poison us slowly through dependence on their system for health care and also strikes the spine of the digital gulag system, breaking its back so it can no longer have any strength to influence our lives through controlling our access to food/medicine.
A better essay about the importance of self-reliance and health as the ideal antidote to modern societal tyranny I could not have written!âAnd he has a YT channel. đ
He was also kind enough to try to address our biggest garden nuisance within the scope of his permaculture lens.âHe offered many potential solutions, and bless his heart for the effort.â
But Iâll just repeat my personal favorite: hot and spicy gopher wings.âđ¤Ş
What an example of authentic careâgrowing in the real and cyber worlds simultaneouslyâwhere even sassy meat-eaters and smart-asses and AI are welcome to stuff up their comments sections.âNow thatâs grace under fire!
Thanks to guys like these, in the coming decades I predict courageousfellowship will become the new sexy.
âAlvin Toffler predicted âdemassificationâ: a process âin which a relatively homogeneous social collectivity (or one conceptualized as such) is broken down into (or reconceptualized in terms of) smaller, more diverse elementsâ. This is the prize for big social networks: compartmentalize people into echo chambers and bombard them with confusing distractions and dead ends.â
Confuse the words, creating a smokescreen of misunderstanding: Like: community=network=market Obviously these words used to mean very different things in the actual world, before the virtual environment muddied the waters. The market wants all kinds of personal details about you and so they pretend they are in a community with you. Your network of friends and acquaintances and business relations may indeed form a community at some basic level, but to expand this concept out in an attempt to create from this a sense of âglobal communityâ is preposterous. It is a Benetton ad, not a community.
Yet it has infiltrated and infected the actual world as weâve all experienced. The great Convid is example enough. But, thereâs more.â
Even small local shops in rural Texas feel entitled to ask shoppers for their phone number, to use video surveillance indiscriminately, to appeal to shoppers for âcommunityâ donations and to shove their mailing list and âloyalty cardâ at you. I seriously doubt they will draw the line at the next big thing the big box markets teach them.
âPlease take a sensor bracelet at the entrance, this will ensure you a positive shopping experience.â
That is no community for me!
Deb Filman does a fine job of ranting about this, and an even better job breaking it down for folks, especially parents, because it really is the kids they are after.âThey always start with the easiest targets.
Are We Educating Children or Training Bots?âThat is the question!
More concept confabulation:âTraining=programming=learning Deb has some choice words to share about this, so Iâll be brief.âThese words and concepts are being deliberately confused in order to create cognitive dissonance in order to get us to comply.âSocial engineering has become an acceptable system for indoctrination of populations and is being normalized and implemented by the United Nations and cooperating global partners through our institutions, and directly into our LOCAL communities, all of them.
The U.N.:
Creating child social activists all over the country on our dollar.
More muddying of words and concepts happens all the time.âThis is to be expected.âThis is not a new tactic at all.âIf they still teach Animal Farm in school, letâs hope the correct message is still being taken from it.âThe rules written on the barnyard wall keep shifting.â(Therefore, it must be my job to keep shifting with the rules, right?)
More word meshing: Individuals=collectives Regulate=Control=Master=Suppress
âIt is the responsibility of civil society to experiment with models of effective global citizenship.â
To experiment with models!âIt is our responsibility, as global citizens, to experiment with our populations through education, to create good global citizens.
That is, for one, to train children in âEmotional Regulationâ in order to make good âGlobal Citizensâ. Soldiers are trained in emotional regulation. As much as you might get annoyed at the Hobby Lobby with the number of emotionally unregulated children, this is not something that we want as institutional directives aimed at children. Why? Because as the establishment experts know very well, it leads to neuroticism. One kind of behavior required at school, another one at home, another one in public, another one at church, another one here and there and everywhere, and what the kids end up with is not an education, but the essential life skill required of a psychotic society: Mask Juggling.
In other words, become better adjusted at nebulous, shifting, always uncertain unreality.âWho does that serve?
From Wiki, the âexpertsâ, right?!
âPsychodynamic therapy uses the idea of a Faustian bargain to explain defence mechanisms, usually rooted in childhood, that sacrifice elements of the self in favor of some form of psychological survival. For the neurotic, abandoning one’s genuine feeling self in favour of a false self more amenable to caretakers may offer a viable form of life, but at the expense of one’s true emotions and affects. For the psychotic, a Faustian bargain with an omnipotent self can offer the imaginary refuge of a psychic retreat at the price of living in unreality.â
I canât help but wonder, as illogical as all this obviously is, could it actually be the setup for the next great fall?
âWe had created a global civilization, and for what? So the whole thing could come crashing down into the ocean, bringing unimaginable misery upon the earth? What purpose could such suffering possibly serve? The answerâin truth, the loss, death, despair, desolation, sickness, ill-treatment, indignity and, as Nietzsche wrote, âprofound self-contempt, the torture of self-mistrust and the wretchedness of the vanquishedâ rarely change ordinary men and women. Extraordinary people change through the good thing, and through the self-mastery that yokes them to it; the joyous source of the world. But such types are few and far between. For the masses, there is no hope because all they have is hope, and habit, and expectation, and desire, and possession, and progress, and business, and money, and all the other illusions of the egoic system. That man had to be disillusioned was not, quite obviously, a message which could find very much popular support in a world of illusions, but then no message worth hearing ever does. The individual knows that the evil and pain and suffering she has gone through has not been for naught. Being sensitive and kindâthose rarest of qualities in the civilized systemâthe individual finds no pleasure in the idea that everyone has to go through hell to reach heaven.ââ33 Myths of the System by Darren Allen
Some say Itâs on Its last legs. The âcoming collapseâ crowd is growing, thatâs for sure.âIâm pretty sure we can confirm weâre no longer fringe.
âThere are mighty forces arrayed against us. They threaten our liberty, our livelihoods, our families, and even, possibly, our sanity. We may find ourselves, if we are awake at all, resentful or even angry at the situation we find ourselves in. We may want to âresist themâ. But how? Our governments, except possibly at a local level, seem to largely be against us. The corporations, as they always have been, are against us. The mediaâŚditto. The institutions of civil society? Largely captured. Our faith communities? Well, maybe some hope there, but all too often, the same deal. So, what are we to do?â
I donât believe that, exactly.âOur beloved Institutions have always been in service to Empire and I believe Empire is now in the process of refining itself, shedding its skin in order to reinvent itself.âEmpire is like the Ouroborus, eternal and regenerative.
These opinions may look opposing at first glance, but in fact they are complimentary.
I believe Empire is the rolling stone on which the Individualâs sword is sharpened. We will never be without It, we have never been without It.
That does not mean resistance to Empire is futile. But it is painful. From happy slave to disgruntled dissident is a long and lonely journey. It has to be.
Empireâs tactics evolve, forcing the Individualsâ along with It. Not in a David vs Goliath manner, but more like in a perpetuating Gordian Knot. We need each other too much, we are not who we are, one without the other.
For as long as Empire has existed, the Individual has fought to escape it.
He has fought so hard against It, that he has become It. The fight, or dance, however you choose to feel it, has become excruciatingly intimate over time.
At some moments in the cycle, perhaps all it takes are whips and chains to keep the system of Empire churning. In current times It is far more sophisticated. It wants willing and happy slaves, thatâs what helps the Master slaves sleep better at night. Mental slavery, debt slavery, touchless torture.
We each must choose.âThe Individual must have free will.
Itâs not that one is alone on the path away from Empire. There are a great many unhappy slaves. You will find them everywhere along your course, which has existed for as long as Empire.
âThe classic example of ideological motivation is the âwork ethicâ; the idea, which has driven the workers of the West for the past few centuries, that we are morally obliged to work for the system for our entire lives so that, perhaps, one day, we will no longer have to work. A subtler modern example of ideological discipline might be âteam spiritâ â the means by which loss of purpose, dignity, joy and freedom at work is compensated with group-bonding. âI didnât agree with the purpose of the war; I was just looking out for my buddiesâapplies equally to the army platoon, the office department and the school class.ââ33 Myths of the System by Darren Allen
We learn in the Empireâs schooling that the opposite of pleasure is pain. Furthermore, they teach us, that as a species we inherently seek to experience pleasure and to avoid pain.
And yet, sado-masochism is visible everywhere in our cultures. There are those who actively seek pain, and a great many who experience pain, and still go back to do it again, and again, willingly. Mothers and soldiers come to mind. Giving birth is rarely described as pleasurable. Soldiers rarely relish in their battle fatigue. Are we to believe they are all masochistic?
Whatâs missing here? Perhaps the opposite of pleasure is not pain exactly, but a specific kind of pain, the kind inherent in seeking virtue. Why do we not avoid this kind of pain as well, as a general rule?
The Individualâs path is painful because virtue is the opposite of pleasure, as Empire is opposite of the Individual.
That may sound like a notion of the Stoics, yet Iâm definitely Dionysian by nature. It is not for the backache or the sweat or the frustration that I garden. It is for the fruits of my labor. It is for the care Iâm able to show to the soul and soil and the hope that my efforts grow beyond my finite existence and wisdom.âIt is the pain of true âvirtue seekingâ.
I want them all, all my fruits, not out of selfishness, but to distribute at my preference and at my leisure and not according to the dictates or conveniences of Empire.
And yet, Empire is not my enemy. We may fight, or dance, but I do not wish Its collapse. Specifically, I wish It to continue to increase the virtue of the Individual. Even though I know that requires significant pain.
I have been amazed by the incredible virtue of some of those Iâve found along my Individual course.
The following comes from the latest post of one of these Virtuosos, Gavin Mounsey.âI like Gavin not only for his beautiful photos and keen mind and wholesome work, there are many others who fit that bill.âWhat I find most unique about him is, he doesnât bypass the dirty work.âThat is rare in my experience.âHe stays focused on the good, on the light, on the solutions, but not at the expense of the hard truth.âItâs a tough balance I know.
âTaking steps to embrace food sovereignty and a path that consciously nurtures symbiotic relationships are ways of living that are synonymous with a more happy, passionate and creative life. As our basic survival needs become fulfilled through our own âhands-on workâ and skills, it frees up a lot more time to pursue the things we are truly passionate about in life. Embracing that self-sufficient lifestyle is so much more fulfilling than working âfor the manâ getting a pay check of digital fiat currency, trading it with 5 different middle men to get our food, water, energy and fulfill our transportation needs. It really does improve not only the quality of life, but the perception of what is meaningful in oneâs life. It effects our very psychological foundations as we rediscover the simple joys in life. It helps us move away from the hyper-distracted, over-stimulated, digital chemical culture that has built up around us and allows us to let go of greed and materialism by truly coming to know the beauty of planting a seed in the soil, nurturing it to grow, and reaping what we sow.â
âNow is the time to reaffirm our alliances with the living Earth, to nurture new symbiotic relationships with the soil, people, plants and fungi in our local communities. Human empires rise and fall, and history teaches us that when they fall, it is those that know how to grow/forage for their own food, medicine and preserve it, that survived.â
âWe can create oasises of health, resilience, and abundance in each of our communities⌠we can become the solution, break from dependence on centralized systems and help others to do the same. It begins with the soil and the seeds and it evolves into nurturing symbiotic connections with those whom we share our communities with. Each of us can embody the medicine that the land and our communities need too survive and thrive though the tough times ahead.
âThus, each and everyone one of us should now be focusing our efforts on honing our skills related to food/medicine cultivation, preservation and developing a reciprocal relationship with the land where we live.â
âSaving up money for a ârainy dayâ is not a solid way to prepare for emergencies because money has no innate value. Seeds, good soil, gardening skills, increased health/immunity, preserving experience and the symbiotic relationships and friendships we forge with neighbors and the broader community we are a part of (through sharing our abundant harvests and seeds and helping others to grow regenerative gardens) are however things that have innate value.â
Thereâs so much inspiration in his excellent article, many great reasons to start a garden, but also much information about all the rewards gardening reaps.
As the entitled, privileged, white western woman I identify as, I now have Hubby all to myself.
Now his best, his most creative, his most talented and productive self gets expressed here, at home, instead of off in some far away place for some unknown people.
âEvery man looks at his wood pile with a kind of affection.â ~Henry David Thoreau
The benefit for me has been huge, off the charts. Most recently in the form of a beautiful Christmas gift. Weâve spent most Christmases of our 20 year marriage apart, usually with Hubby working offshore. This never felt like such a big deal to me considering we donât have kids and we are neither religious nor consumer-oriented.
It was a pretty good deal actually, because he got bonus pay and we got to feel generous at the same timeâoffering the holidays to the Dads among his co-workers.
No matter how good of a sharer one is entrained to be, especially I guess as a selfish, entitled, privileged, white, western woman, giving the best years of life to âthe systemâ is not nearly as fulfilling as it might sound to some.
Like most modern Westerners we worked hard for many decadesâwe devoted years of education and training in order to fulfill our function in the economy and we played by the social rules and did some right investment things and we feel weâve earned our relative liberty.
Weâve bought our freedom, so to speak. For as long as that lasts anyway.
We have earned our right to withdraw our energy, time and talent from an insane system earlier than scheduled. A âgiftâ hard-earned and well-deserved, Iâd say.
Many years ago I was told that âAmericans live to work, while the French work to liveâ in an attempt to describe the comparable âwork ethicâ of these two cultures. In general, Iâd agree, at least back then. Certainly in past centuries Americans have prided themselves on their reputation of being hard workers, with high productivity, and all those industrious accolades that go along with thatâlike ingenuity and resourcefulness and determination. Now we desire to benefit from those hard-earned character traits.
Retirement is Redefining Fun
I preferred the French style of cultivating more joie de vivre and laissez-faire attitudes, but not just for the more obvious reasons of the pleasure and sensual rewards of the good life. I also saw how unhealthy it is to encompass so much of oneâs raison dâetre âself-esteem and community connections and social structure and really most aspects of life âin with oneâs professional occupation.âBut this is what the majority of us have been trained to do.
âBecause work is an activity in which all initiative and energy is extorted from the individual in order to generate profit for someone else, and because it is unbearably unpleasant, futile and barren, âfreeâ time looms before labour as a garden paradise. Fake sickies are then engineered and labour-saving devices purchased to extend the Pastime Arcadia by a minute or two. But because access to wild nature and genuine culture is curtailed, weekenders are forced to buy their pleasure as they buy everything else, from huge corporations which, to turn a profit, appeal to the lowest common denominator of its demographic, thereby producing, in lieu of satisfying art, addictive titillation and anxiety. In other words, once we have freed ourselves from work, we then have to submit to a world made of work.ââ 33 Myths of the System: A Radical Guide to the World by Darren Allen (2021)
Leaving all the variables asideâlike retirement wasnât exactly intentional and was certainly untimely, yet irresistible, and as yet permanently untenableâthe rewards still far outweigh the risks.
Retirement is Reprioritizing.
The old adage âtime is moneyâ casts an evil word spell. In actuality, time is precious, as money is profane.
âThe second new technology of control invented by the Greeks , was MONEY â an impersonal, indestructible abstraction which rendered people, objects and, eventually, the entire universe as a collection of homogeneous quantities, things which could be bought and sold. It was thanks to the attitude that money engendered that Greek philosophers began to view the entire universe as a composite of discrete, rationally-apprehended granules, or particles (a.k.a. âAtomsâ), and ideas (or âplatonic formsâ), chief among them, the tragic atomâcut-off, isolated, alone â we call âmanâ.â (D. Allen)
When man is no longer âtrading hours for a handful of dimesâ to borrow a Doorsâ passage, fantastic things can occur. Iâm not saying they will occur, only that the potential is created that they might. That is, a space where no space existed before, where moneyâs place in time is squarely upstaged by something infinitely more appealing.
Some folks plan multiple decades for retirement only to be overwhelmed by timeâs infinity once they reach it. They succeeded in their dream. Right?
Whether they scrimped and saved or invested and won, still they cling to the âtime is moneyâ fallacy and once retired spend much energy agonizing over their dwindling resources and increased hours to fill with distractionsâsome new fanaticism âbe it sports or politics or shopping or so, so many other means for their entertainment, that is, their entrainment. Your money and your mind.
Theyâve been so acclimated to the Earn-Spend Ferris wheel of existence that time shifts almost instantly from precious to perilous. The ânever enoughâ crowd, born and bred to earn and burn, to forever cast the pearls of their finite energy into the infinite abyss of acquisition.
Where to burn, once that ride threatens to end? Could a new retirement hobby ever be enough?
Or will it take a new lifestyle? A new way of being and perceiving in the world? Maybe even re-integrating the simple satisfaction of chopping wood and carrying water?âAfter all, why pay a gym membership?
Or, as my beautiful Christmas gift suggests, maybe making furniture?
As best we could, with limited knowledge, skill, money, we set ourselves up to succeed at this moment, and against the odds. Will that be enough? There are no guarantees.
But, the meaning of âsucceedâ has shifted with the territory. Itâs our own meaning now. No masters above, no slaves below. Itâs working at our leisure, at our pleasure, on projects and activities that reflect who we are, what we want out of life, how we envision a better future.âItâs personal and imperfect and itâs the way we are trying to practice more than we preach.
Retirement is spontaneity. After having planned ahead.
Yes, it was a tornado that took down that cedar, and many other trees as well. Yes, our tools are still inadequate. No, we donât have the money to âupgradeâ. But the financial restraints require creativity and frugality, which weâve cultured over the decades. And the self-reliance fosters self-confidence, which weâve been diligently cultivating for decades as well.
If the best things in life are free, what to do with our freedom? Do we spend our precious time perfecting the dance of life, or perfecting our costumes? Do we spend our greatest efforts making it easier for ourselves to play, or for others to watch?
Perfection is the enemy of the good. In the world of corporate work, perfection is the goal. Perfection is the construct upon which all human effort is poised. Your regenerative human resource creates their sustained capital. Perfection in the eyes of the corporate beholder is maintained through mechanization, that is, mechanization of the resource, be he human or time, quotidian or universal.
Retirement is unstructured.
Our only intention now is to never go back. It is a soul-sucking system, not just a time-sucking one. Iâd say thatâs why so many donât get out sooner, or whenever they have the chanceâtheir souls have been too drained already.
Mechanization of the body or soul is equal under the laws of the system. But, unstructured time allows plenty of opportunity to de-mechanize.
What is one man capable of without the lifetime expectation of the system? Without the chaotic pressures of the market?âWith just a bit of time and skill and opportunity?
Thatâs what retirement should be, according to me. The freedom to be unpredictable and unperfectable. The freedom not to be adjusted or tampered with anymore in order to support a slippery system we unwittingly inherited.
âMost people do not know what to do with free time and when it appears they feel only an anxious need to consume corporate fun or, at best, cultural familiarity.â (D. Allen)
A great number of disjointed fragments came together to make this wholeâincluding a tornado, a scamdemic, a hand-me-down gift of turquoise stones, a random forum post about âsteampunk styleâ and a lot of time, and desire, and a good bit of skillânone of which had anything to do with me directly.
I only breathed just a hint of enthusiasm at just the right time and voilaâhe has crafted a unique treasure that will forever recall the transformation of a painful memory recast into magnificently unique beauty, form and function.
The deeper fissures in the wood filled with lovely turquoise stones.
If itâs the only piece he ever creates, I am over-joyed! If it leads to a hobby that fills his desires, I am thrilled! If it leads even further, to actual work, like, for others, well, maybe, Iâll be forced to pull that Retirement is Selfish card again.
Wow, Iâve posted no update since the end of August (aka Late Swelter Season). Now here we are already well into Weather Whiplash Season, my how time flies!
This post weâve got lots of happy snaps, the usual weather bitching, some cheese boasting, and long laments about our dear Shadowâs woes.
Notice the band-aid on his ear? Useless. But, apparently we needed to learn that the hard way.
Sometimes time flies, but when things get really bad, it crawls. Especially when it goes instantly from nothing much to Holy Shit!
And as bad as it is, in the big picture the weather whiplash is still way worse. So, best get that report out of the way first. No rain, in our rainy season. No real season at all, just a rainless rollercoaster, and not nearly as fun as that sounds.
Not natural clouds, folks! And soon the kids wonât be able to see any difference, though the atmosphere has significantly changed in the last two decades, as the weather has changed, as they lie about their climate scam, and charge âcarbon taxesâ to ordinary folks to pay for their madness. Makes me SO FURIOUS!
I could be taking such photos on a regular basis, but it gets old. And then someone could comment on the âprettyâ sunset. đ¤Ż. Argghhh, Noooo! Canât someone please make it stop?!
No? Ok, moving on.
More bad news. Weâve had the most prolific acorn year since weâve been here, thatâs about 15 years. Sounds like good news, I know. It is good news, in many ways. The pigs are getting fat, the sheep and goats are gorging. Literally. And thatâs the problem. One of the young twins gorged himself to death. It was terribly sad. His little stomach ballooned up as if his body couldnât contain it anymore and he was suffering for hours.
Iâd read baking soda could help, but it did not in this case. Perhaps it was too severe. I also read thereâs a surgical procedure which would alleviate the pressure in his gut, but I donât have the confidence to perform that myself and the vets around here donât treat goats. I held the little guy for a long time, trying to keep him warm and help him feel better, but we lost him. Oh the perils of animal husbandry!
Another problem of the acorn bumper crop is much less severe. We live under a large oak tree and have a metal roof. Itâs been rather windy lately and once those nuts start shaking loose, itâs kinda like the sky is falling. If our veteran neighbor with PTSD comes by I expect heâll be darting for cover quick, because it sounds eerily like machine gunfire when they get popping off the roof.
The acorn perks include some plump pigs and happy goats, two of which Iâm still milking, which is making for some very tasty cheeses.
Under the oaks: happy pigs, sheep and goats.Can you spot the perfectly camouflaged foraging pig?Happy goats make for delicious cheeses.
Iâve gotten so successful Iâm confident enough to get very daring!
Chèvre wrapped in sassafras and fig leaves for aging.More aged chèvreâthe top log is covered in dried goldenrod leaves and flowers, the bottom one is wrapped in honeybee comb.Our first pecan harvestâless than impressive, but still delishLactarius paradoxus mushrooms, homemade goat cheeses and first Japanese persimmon
Our fruits were nearly non-existent this summer, but we did just get our first âcropâ of persimmons, a whopping 5 of them! A couple of years ago I harvested lots of them from a neighborâs tree and they were delicious; that was the first time weâd ever tried them.
Fuji persimmon
We planted both varieties, but the American variety takes much longer to start producing fruit and the fruits are generally smaller. These pictured above are Fuji, quite different, harder, larger, less sweet, not at all astringent, and also very tasty. The closest in taste Iâd say would be a very ripe mango, the American varieties are especially super sweet, like jam.
If youâd like to learn more about this fancy fruit, hereâs an enthusiastic lesson from James Prigione.
Weâve been getting a few mushrooms, but the lack of rain is certainly hindering our foraging experience. A friend brought us a huge chicken of the woods, our first time trying it and it was excellent.
Laetiporus sulphureus
The lactarius paradoxus are hard to spot and deceptively unattractive. In fact, they are exceptionally tasty and have a longer shelf-life, and of course a different season, than our favorite chanterelles.
Even while foraging mushrooms it seems the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. đ¤
In the garden we do have two nice full boxes of varied cool-season produce we protect from the frosts with row cover cloth. In addition to lettuces thereâs some broccoli and cauliflower, spring onions, cilantro and parsley, radishes and Chinese cabbage. Weâve also got our garlic already shooting up and a couple rows of turnips started for the pigs come spring. Our neighbors are now buying eggs from us, so we throw in the surplus veggies when we can.
3 of 6 colonies survived our terrible summer. The hives are a bit hodge-podge at the moment while we do maintenance on them.
The honeybees are occasionally making an appearance, though since the frost there is little for them to forage. One of their last favorites is another one considered a ânuisance plantâ by the âexpertsââitâs called tree groundsel and itâs pictured after the frost in the right photo above, in the background behind the boxes. Quite a lovely late-season plant, if you ask me.
And approaching it before the first frost sounded like the buzzing metropolis that it was! A last hoorah for the bees.
So we come back to the current day and our crazy Shadow drama. It all started with a tiny Band-Aid.
Heâs got the ear-span of a small plane and we have the living room space of its cockpit. When he shakes his head he invariably hits some piece of wall or corner of furniture with his Dumbo ears and itâs actually pretty amazing it didnât happen already: a tiny gash on the tip of one ear that he doubtlessly cannot even feel.
Forever happy and oblivious
We were racking our brains for several days, trying everything we could think of and just digging ourselves deeper. One tiny failed Band-aid led to bigger Band-aids led to bigger wraps led to taping menstrual pads to the poor creature!
Nothing was working. We also tried several over-the-counter products, like liquid Band-aid, blood-clotting powder, and some spray-on crap. Not only was nothing working, they all seemed to be making the problem worse.
We even tried to craft our own âNo flap ear wrapâ made out of my doo-rags, which also didnât work. So, we purchased a pricey one online which should be arriving any day now. Obviously, this is a universally common dog issue. A result of over-domestication no doubt, but thatâs fodder for another post.
Then I start racking my pea brain in frantic desperation. How to stop the blood flow pronto?! Crimp his ears with clothes pins? Tie his ears up on top of his head with a scrunchy? Stitches? Soldering? How about just cut the whole ear off? Yes, we did briefly consider the vet. But weâve been spending the many months since we got him trying to detox him from all the vet potions and it feels we are finally making some headway there. I kept imagining the new meds that would be required for this new issue and their invariable side-effects, which would start us off at square one with his detox.
Clearly I donât think very well in high-stress situations. I was really trying hard and the bad ideas were piling on. The blood, which had gone from a tiny occasional drop, to a full-on drip, to a steady stream, and from then within a few hours a sprayer-hose in every direction with every shake of his head. And that boy loves to shake his head.
Between the blood splatter and the acorn fire it feels we could be living in a battlefield training zone.
Yup, the crazy, bloody mess had arrived and is still visible all over our living room, deck, porch, siding. We covered all the furniture and even the walls with old towels and sheets. Hubby started following him around everywhere, with a giant towel extended between his outstretched arms each time he sensed a head shake was about to turn into a sprayer-hose of the sticky, red, splatter paint across the windows, the screens, the ceilings even. (Where are those magical elves when you need a deep house cleaning?)
We needed a miracle, and fast!
And thank the heavens, I got that miracle in one brief email. Thank you UK herbalists, Kath and Zoe, miracle workers! It shouldâve occurred to me sooner. Me, especially, considering I did start the Herbal Explorations pages earlier this year and have been getting educated on herbal remedies. It honestly did not occur to me that herbs could solve this acute issue. I didnât think anything would be fast or effective enough, especially when every other thing we were trying had failed and even worsened the problem.
Zoe suggested powdered myrrh as her preferred method in order to stop the blood flow, but we didnât have that on hand. I ordered some online, but in the meantime chose among her other options, yarrow, and we have plenty on hand because I like it in Kombucha. I made a strong tea with it, as well as grounding some up into a powder and that whole concoction I held on his ear a few times with a cloth, some of that powder getting into the wound and sticking there, and the blood flow finally stopped. Holy Heavens! As of this writing we are still in good form and have our reserve remedies soon arriving in the mail.
What I clearly need now is an official Herbal First-Aid course. Herbs are not just for gentle healing and routine health, I see, they can be used in emergencies, too.
Why did I not think about it sooner?! It seems like such a no-brained to me now, that Iâve started to consider other potentials that didnât occur to me at the timeâlike the old Russian folk remedy bees podmoreâwhich I just happen to have been saving for a rainy day for 3 years now.
Quite an expensive lesson, but a welcome one nonetheless. đ
Thank you from Hubbyâs âWhite Elephantâ! đ
A huge thanks and deep bow to Kath and Zoe, from all of us on the wee homestead! đ đ¤
