common sense – Page 3 – Kensho Homestead

Do we really create our own problems?

It’s all how you look at it. Every challenge is an opportunity. You reap what you sow. That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. It’s a spiritual battle. Staying positive is essential. Crisis is a gift.

I’m glad to know a precious few who find these platitudes repulsive. Most of the folks who repeat them call themselves good Christians or Course of Miracles brand New Agers.

Well, but, you have to make the best of it, right! What else can you do? That’s called Enlightenment these days, by the way. I guess I used to be quite Enlightened, but now I’m terribly Embittered.

That boy born with one eye is actually lucky because he got to develop his ‘cosmic sense’. Same with that boy whose doctor gave him a vaccine that gave him polio—having only one leg is a true growth opportunity. Autism’s just another word for special.

It’s like the Cat Stevens song I used to teach my English as a foreign language students for a fun lesson of translating lyrics—Moonshadow—“If I ever lose my legs, I won’t cry and I won’t beg.” (Great for teaching vocabulary. Maybe not so great for living actual life.)

No, of course not, who needs legs, because, then you’ll sing, right? You’ve still got your vocal cords, maybe that, along with one hand, and you can start a revolution from your bed. Who needs to eat really, either? You know there are spiritual masters who live in caves for years without eating.

Really? Good for them!

Honestly those repeating such nonsense to someone who would’ve really just lost their legs need to ask themselves who they are helping—because I’d bet the ranch they do it to make themselves feel more comfortable when confronted with another’s tragedy. Don’t worry, be happy! Because you’re just simply a dull jackass when you’re not.

Getting canned means you can follow your dream career now. Wearing a mask means you’re saving the elderly and the children, don’t you feel heroic. Just keep pushing the boulder up that mountain, and when it comes back down, do it again. You’ll get used to it, we promise.

You think you know something about life? About pain? About darkness? You who sit comfie on your cushion and traveled India on a trust fund? Did you have to skip a meal one day, oh so sorry, that must’ve been so tough. Do you fast, by choice? Was that divorce difficult? You poor dear, but now you’re so woke, so it was worth it, right?

Spin. Spin. Spin. To all those wanna-be alchemists and magicians chomping at the bit out there, that’s not transmutation, just fyi, that’s sugar-coating. But don’t worry, you’ll eventually figure that out, because as soon as you experience actual, real-life, pain and suffering, those platitudes and fake attitudes will make you nauseated, finally. Or at least I hope.

Let me tell you a smidgeon of actual truth, for every one person who manages to make and sell their lemonade crafted from chaos, there are dozens more who don’t. You’re welcome.

But still, tell the controllers, thank you. Repeat, three times daily ‘Thank you sir, may I have another?’

Follow with seven times ‘Mantra of Slave Class’—A.A.S.S—Adapt, Adopt, Serve, Smile. And Love it! Big smiles!

Until we say, “No Smiles!” About Face. Adopt Mask.

In fact, there’s no easy path for the truly righteous few. You’ve got to get your hands dirty. You’ve got to discard the cushions and rainbows and unicorns and silver linings.

Now, with all that proper bitchiness said, here’s the real rub. I think James True is spot on—This is the Greatest Apocalypse Ever!

More on that in the next far more pleasant post. 😉

Humanity Is NOT a Virus

An awesome, inspiring, common sense, philosophical, funny conversation between two men almost as awesome as my man!

What’s the prana economy? What’s homesteading life like? How is it so many just can’t/won’t/will never lift the veil? What’s up with the masks? And lots more very compelling content!

https://youtu.be/tXFJoqws3G4

Another Swarm!

We must thank our lucky stars once again. Last post we caught our first swarm right in the garden, and if that wasn’t easy enough, this one flew right into our trap, as if guided by the Divine!

Positioned high in a pine tree with lovely views of open pasture, lightly seasoned with a few drops of lemon grass essential oil, move-in ready with two frames of fully drawn comb, and violà, our first volunteer tenants.

Apparently they were not privy to any shelter-in-place sort of order.

Guess who else is not abiding by the social distancing commands from their government . . .

And these crazy rebels, well, it’s just shocking how little they care . . .

Bubba does not respect their Authorité!

https://youtu.be/x7yrPN-5zeQ

Buttercup doesn’t know what psy-op even means! Whaaaa?!?

BCA544F5-0F76-42DF-8B52-9E6B283065FF — That is not 6 feet, re-education camp for you!

Last night Tori came to me in a dream and stated matter-of-factly, “I’ll take ‘em all down, easy-peasy, just lemme at ‘em!”

And I replied, “No, each must choose for himself, otherwise we just get more tyranny.”

“LORD Technology is Saturn Worship. It’s the religion of slavery and narcissism. All academia, governments, and courts are Saturn worship. Christ is real. But people are worshiping a human sacrifice. He was the Passover Lamb. To give him your prana is to feed it to the owners of the ritual. The True Cross, or Christ, is a spiritual astringent – the most crucial archetype you can have to survive Saturnism. Christianity is a government trauma cult made by Saturnalians to keep you docile, meek, egoless, and dumb. The Bible was a relic of LORD Technology written to gaslight you. The book sucks all of your cosmology about God into the black hole of scripture. It’s a vacuum where your creativity and prana are sucked into deep space where it can do nothing forever.

I hope this clears things up. After all – this is the Apocolypse.” James True

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.

Texas 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.

F6413DA8-7346-4DC2-B8D5-A5D4B981343B — 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.

EA1E612A-ADEC-4AF4-AA78-7EA95AF9E35A — 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?

F752208D-5D30-4D03-9C30-392F71F4016E — 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. 😉

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.

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.

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.

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. 🙂

Where’s Your Food $$ Going?

I was called a troll yesterday on one of my favorite shows because I’m staunchly anti-vegetarian, unlike the hosts, who are vegetarians. It wasn’t the hosts themselves who called me a troll, because they are not adult-children, and they can stand some backlash from the peanut gallery.

No, it was fellow peanuts in the gallery who called me a troll, and an ugly troll at that! My sin? Stating unequivocally that vegetarianism does not bring one closer to nature.

I could’ve gone on. Vegetarianism is not sustainable. It’s not more compassionate. It’s not more healthy. It’s not how our ancestors ate. And more.

But none of those are even the most serious of the issue.

The vegetarian lifestyle feeds directly into an agenda of Globalism. This is because the vegetarian lifestyle requires massive centralization and vast supply chains.

It’s a question of economics. If folks were closer to nature, and grew their own food, they’d know it’s impossible in most places to grow enough vegetables and grains on a small farm all year long to sustain even a large family without livestock. Certainly there are exceptions in small heavily-populated regions like California and Hawaii.

I understand that vegetarians think they are being more compassionate toward animals and nature, but what about the farmers? How much compassion do you have for them? Vegetarians are making matters much worse for the small farmers, and they are the solution to Globalism.

Of course the industrialized meat system is cruel and disgusting! Yes, please, avoid it if you can!

But the answer is not keep the industrialist food system alive and thriving with veggie burgers and soy shakes.

Without a local market to sell their products, farmers can’t make it without these vast supply chains. The solution really is to buy local and eat seasonal, this is what’s good for the soil, and therefor the soul.

20 Ways EAT Lancet’s Global Diet is Wrongfully Vilifying Meat

Am I Less “Woke” Because I Eat Meat?

Film Update!

Lab to Table – The Weston A. Price Foundation

Find Nutrient-Dense Foods – The Weston A. Price Foundation
TAKE THE 50% PLEDGE!
Help us celebrate twenty years of accurate information on diet and health by strengthening your commitment to support local farms. Spend at least 50% of your food dollar purchasing raw milk and raw milk products, eggs, poultry, meat and produce directly from local farmers and artisans. info@westonaprice.org.)

Slow and Low

Not only do I show my age with this line, I also show my very poor taste in music during my university years. But, I did always love that line from the Beastie Boys: “Slow and low, that is the tempo.”

I repeat it to myself now because I know after a year like we had last year, this year for us on the wee homestead needs to be less work, no new projects, and more deep diving into those tasks, learning and activities we deem most necessary for the critters and the gardens, and most conducive to our own personal well-being.

AD601CB3-0E44-408F-9784-5C78B436F843 — This old fart agrees—slow and low!

This morning I stood for a while under our beautifully-blooming old pear trees bursting with lively buzzing—so much noisy activity was actually soothing, peaceful, motivating— there’s such a calm diligence in the bees’ seeming frenzy.

C034F0B9-402C-4EF3-ACEB-BA00291671B8 — Now there’s some happy worker bees!

Winter’s not over yet, and we had what seems to be now the new-normal of continual weather whiplash, still I’m thrilled to report all our hives have made it so far, on a completely treatment-free program. Yippie!

In slow and low tempo we make a big stink of every success, small, medium, or large. 🙂

This is my favorite time of year for making pesto and chimichurra from foraged ‘weeds’. Making pesto in summer when everything else in the garden is demanding attention is not nearly as pleasant as crawling through the flourishing green beds snipping chickweed, violets, henbit, and more. Here’s an old post with links and recipes, if this is the year you want to try it for yourself.

90AF52AA-1EED-4B04-BED3-660D47F95712 — Don’t see weeds, see pesto!

Handy Hubby is soon on vacation for six weeks—the best time of year for us here! He’ll be wrapping up the fencing for the second pasture, and helping me redo the garden drip irrigation (neither being his preferred jobs by a long shot, thanks lovey, our greatest and most necessary trooper!)

9B11BE57-311A-4325-A24F-1090AA3A7C9F — Downed trees from the spring ‘tornado’ opened up our view to the corral, a definite silver lining.

In tough times it helps me to focus on the big picture; it helps Hubby to put his proverbial nose to the grindstone—that’s a damn good recipe for wholesome collaboration, and the perfect environment for talking past each other. All the more reason that slow and low will be the tempo.

Philosopher-homesteaders, don’t know this man yet? Appalachian wise man for deep thinking.

How Suicide Triumphs

It might be a ghastly case of misplaced empathy.

Try this at home: Bring up the topic of suicide and note how folks react.

On the radio yesterday, one of the south’s ubiquitous Christian family stations, were some astonishing statistics about the outrageous suicide rate currently in America. The host’s conclusion, not surprisingly, was that these poor, long-suffering individuals had not found Jesus.

I beg to differ. In fact, the suicide that hit too close for comfort this past spring, was committed by a woman who had just found Jesus, had just been ‘born-again’ baptized, and was attending a local church.

Sympathy was oozing from every direction for this apparently fragile, misguided woman, who left behind three teenage boys.

The responses I get when repeating this story always include, first and foremost, something along the lines of: “Oh, how terrible, that poor woman!” The boys are lamented also, but along the lines of how awful it will be for them to be without their mother.

And I’m thinking, “Seriously?”

The woman who spread far more pain and chaos around her than joy and caring is the one who gets the caring attention, even in death.

Why is violent sociopathy rewarded with sympathy in our culture? Suicide is extremely violent. Violence is violence, whether or not it is self-inflicted. It is also extremely manipulative, as one is freed from one’s own pain by unloading it on everyone else.

This was a grown woman, who had abandoned her children, was addicted to untold number of drugs for at least a decade, and who was unresponsive and ungrateful to the help lavished on her from countless well-meaning hosts and wanna-be saviors for years.

What about all those who were forced to witness her self-violence? What about all those who were subjected to her lies, her manipulations, her emotional and physical abuse?

What about her boys, and her parents who are forced to raise them, while she partied her life away?

Has anyone ever considered that maybe they would feel relieved to be rid of her, once and for all—that is, if relief were a permissible social option for them? Instead they are required to feel sorry for her, forever.

What about “God helps those who help themselves?”

What about the obvious fact that the suicide rate continues to rise, as the churches continue to fill, as the preachers continue to preach, as the psychiatric profession proliferates, as the pharmaceutical sales flourish, and as the entertainment industrial complex offers ever-more fun for everyone?

Might it be remotely possible, perhaps, that all the misplaced empathy and coddling to sociopathy, and the elevation of weakness, cowardice and powerlessness to a station of social superiority, might play into this problem at all?

Of course, if I point out this difference of perspective, I’m the heartless bitch with no sympathy, for the violent dead woman.

Well, I confess. Let’s just write it off as yet another case of compassion fatigue.

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