On the Meme Narrative Trail, Again . . .

November 18, 2023

On walk with puppy Shadow this morning, I was noticing that I just don’t want to try to figure out what’s happening in the larger world anymore. Can only barely stomach “the news,” even from alternative sources, knowing that “things are (apparently) getting worse and worse and worse.” And as for wringing my hands and clenching my teeth (though I can no longer clench, thanks to  three back molars gone . . . see posts November 14, 15, 16), I’m reminded of what my late, patient, and always wise husband Jeff Joel would say to me: “But Ann, what can you do about it?” Meaning there’s nothing you can do about it, so why spend so much time kvetching?

Well Jeff, I can do something about it. And that’s to stay centered and grounded, right here, on this living, conscious land, with these animals and housemates and neighbors and townspeople, learning how to “grow community from the ground up.” YES. A multi-year, perhaps even multigenerational project, given that the mycelial web of life (extended families residing in the world’s villages) has been, is still being, bombed to smithereens.

Yes, stay right here, right now. Hyper-local. Regenerate the world into what I, and millions upon millions of others, long to live in.

But of course, I can’t stay away completely from what’s going on out there. “The news,” after all, is what I call my “root addiction.” (It’s the only one left, now that both cigarettes and weed are gone). And this one’s a doozer! I’ve been at it since I was five years old . . .

So, sometimes, in my daily internet peregrinations, I wander into intriguing memes, which I collect on my desktop, and then, when I’ve got enough, weave into some kind of a narrative. Not that I’m “connecting the dots” in the only way they can or should be connected, because, as we are beginning to realize — even those among us (like me) who wish we could stay dogmatic and certain that whatever threads we’ve come across or weave ourselves are “THE TRUTH,” — nope! Reality is fickle, flickers in and out; reality is multidimensional and many-hued; in short, everything, absolutely everything, from the teensy to the galactic, is connected. In myriad ways. Reality shimmers and shudders all of a piece: otherwise known, by Buddhists, as “co-dependent arising.”

So here’s today’s made-up meme narrative of themes currently on the mind of this one who is waking up to our silly, deluded “rulers” nasty plans.

 

Let’s start with our damn cell phones, shall we? (Amazing fact: Jeff’s dad Amos invented the cell phone!)

On our morning walks, Shadow and I are accustomed to pass by IU students walking to and from class, 90% of whom are clutching their cell phones, and a majority of these have it on. Each is entranced by a tiny screen while robotically stumbling or marching through an unusually beautiful campus, undergoing continuous seasonal change, its insects, plants, trees, squirrels, birds, all sorts of critters, all having a great time humming and harmonizing in their own mysterious languages.

And you know? It really is the case that, as he? or she? comes toward me, I often cannot tell whether that student is male or female, at least not until I scrutinize closely. Which always makes me wonder. Is it only woke/gender propaganda that has set these young ones on such weird gender-bending paths? Or might hormones in our food, water, air, and so on also contribute. And oh hey, and how about the 72 vaccines now on the CDC schedule for children? Might this massive injection array also be confusing, even transmogrifying, their minds, bodies, souls?

And then there’s another major propaganda op university indoctrination centers have instituted. Scary. Just today, Shadow and I shuddered as we walked by the new and imposing, gigantic Hamilton Lugar Center for Global and International Studies on the IU campus.

I and fellow “truthers” like to think that a certain human being will “save us” from the gathering hell-on-earth storm. Which means, of course, that those who “oppose us” think the opposite. Divide and conquer.

And of course, the recent and ongoing disgorgement of all the muck in the collective unconscious, including, more and more now, pedophilia, child and organ trafficking, child sacrifice, satanic ritual abuse (supposedly happening especially in tunnels world wide, including under Ukraine and Israel); naming names, more and more, of politicians, actors, business people, on and on, a majority of whom are susceptible to bribes and blackmail, yep . . .

Well no wonder. Did you ever notice this symbolism?

 

 

THREE TOOTH FINALE: Huh? NO PAIN, after what has it been, nine years?

November 16, 2023

Note: See posts from yesterday and day before.

So. Yesterday I lay low, kept a gauze patch on the long three-teeth extraction wound upper right, and sometime in the afternoon figured it would be a good idea to add some kind of anti-bacterial to the gauze,  before applying new gauze to the still slowly bleeding wound. Just when I thought that up, and figured I’d use colloidal silver, because I have it here, I see a message from friend Babette, who had just read yesterday’s post on the operation’s success and suggested I might get some neem oil, or else myrrh and thyme tincture, because both good for gum bacteria. Bingo!

Figuring I’d still be dealing with the situation the next day, and that her suggestions might be better than what I had here, I told her I’d get one of them tomorrow.

But . . . tomorrow is here, and I need no bacterial antibiotic, because sometime during the night the wound totally stopped bleeding.

After taking one CBD gummy when I got back from dentist, and one around 4 pm, I took another one just before bed, at 9 pm, figuring I could take another one in the middle of the night, assuming the area would still be somewhat painful.

But . . . I woke up at 2:20 AM, and immediately noticed: not only is there no pain, none whatsoever, but this is the first time in many years (son Colin thinks at least 9 years this bacterial infection has been festering) that I feel no pain, none whatsoever in that area. Which made me realize: I have been in pain, of more or less severity, for many years. Looking at it on a pain scale from one to ten, it’s always been at least a 0.5 (continuous “awareness” of the area), and more often at least a 1 to 3, and at times even up to a 5 — which is when I do at least one oil pull, knowing that if I don’t, the situation might immediately become dangerous, the infection shooting either up to the brain or down to the heart.

And of course, there’s the not being able to chew on the right side, again, seemingly forever. Still can’t do that, of course, not because it hurts, but because top right chewing teeth are gone.

Lying there, in no pain whatsoever, was like being in heaven. I hadn’t realized that all these years I’ve actually been in purgatory! (Speaking as an always recovering Catholic . . .)

Woke up again at 4:30 AM, same situation. Absolutely no pain.

Again, at 6:30, no pain!

Wow. Can you imagine how much my body has suffered, having to use its energy to deal with this chronic infection on a ongoing basis all these years? Can you imagine how my immune system has been struggling?

And most exciting of all: I already notice a new level of energy coursing through my body.

“Oh my god, Mom,” Colin says, when I tell him this story, “MORE energy?” He was truly dumbfounded. “Even at 80, you’ve already got way more energy than most people.”

Which makes me think about mortality again, how it involves the sudden or gradual dissolution of the physical body. How as I undergo this petit mort of releasing three teeth in a row, I, my essential self, am being freed up! Matter holds us in place; spirit wants to travel, and does so, little by little, in my case, so far.

No wonder I was internally informed, immediately upon the third extraction, that yes, it was a good idea let go of those three teeth. (Got the clear sense that the voice was actually saying “finally, you have let go of them. Should have done it long ago . . .”)

But then, who wants to die?

Oh and, another synchronicity: this morning, one of my housemates, Ning Yao, who didn’t know my oral surgery involved not just one, but three teeth, told me about a puzzling dream last night in which she lost three teeth . . .