FOOD PRODUCTION, DISTRIBUTION CENTERS DESTROYED: Not scared yet? Here’s a good depop psy-op for ya . . .

April 23, 2022

Well, here we are, enjoying/enduring another rolling scare event. And since it’s tied in with other scary data, it’s hard not to connect these dots:  highest inflation rate in 40 years; continuing supply chain disruptions; Russian fertilizer not making it to farmers’ corn, soy and wheat — used to feed animals for human consumption; evil Bill Gates buying up farmland; scary bird flu, in how many states now? — set to drive up prices of chicken and eggs; on and on, it does seem as if this particular rolling scare event probably does have legs. Indeed, three sources that I tend to pay attention to, Tucker Carlson, gateway pundit, and Health Ranger Mike Adams, all seem to think so, too.

Yet as we have learned to recognize, especially during the covid era, “data” can be skewed to fit just about any agenda. Everything depends on context: how large, how fine-grained. Yesterday I did an (admittedly desultory) internet search for the total number of U.S, food processing and distribution centers, but quickly gave up.

In other words, like most of us who haven’t been done in by whatever fear porn is being pushed now, I DO at least know I need to engage my critical thinking skills, and so I DID wonder if what might otherwise be the latest depop psy-op does really have legs. Then this morning, while scrolling through Brian Cates posts on Telegram, I happened to come across exactly what I was looking for. True?

BTW: Even if it isn’t true — and frankly, I relish the thought of some of the “food processing” places going down: who really needs potato chips? — this issue is being used to further drive the human population in fearful compliance with the deep state drive to lock in global technocracy.

What is the antidote to fear? LOVE. Love of all of creation, beginning with your self first, and then spreading to all with whom you have contact.

What is the antidote to centralized, top-down power? Bottom up power. First, full on self-expression, then intense cooperation with others to grow and distribute local food, locally. Real food. Preferably non-GMO, not “processed,” as organic as possible. Urban Detroit leads the way here in the U.S., due to loss of auto manufacturing, and not just to Japan and China.

People helping people . . . now that the Covid saga has eviscerated the presumed integrity of the medical system, here’s the kind of long (713 replies), deeply informative twitter thread that all of us still alive, despite allopathic, cut and drug ministrations, can appreciate.

Can't believe I'm writing this. Just been told my wife's brain cancer is terminal…

No words.

— JWT (@jwt_jack) April 22, 2022

A Day in the Life of Earthlings on Earth Day 2022

April 22, 2022

This early morning, on walk with puppy Shadow, we decided to walk west, through the IU campus, and during that one hour passed by probably 40 people, only two of them masked, and only two more, both young women, seemingly robotic. (Of course I wondered: “vaxxed”?) A few others appeared totally preoccupied, to the point where they didn’t even notice us. But the rest? We experienced them all as either grinning, or even smiling when they looked down at Shadow and up then to me — whose heart, apparently, given how people respond to me, is now wide open, soul shining through eyes — and in response, most of them also saying brightly, or warmly, “Hello!” or “Good morning!”

Then there was the young male who, as he passed by, removed his bluetooth headphones and stopped to ask, “Is your dog young?” “He’s fourteen!” I answer, and he mumbles, “Oh I was wondering if he was young or old.” Nobody has ever asked that before on my walks. This young man seemed a bit autistic, on the spectrum, shall we say; or was he simply still captured in the hypnotic Covid spell that drove humans into isolation and is having trouble breaking through?

Which reminds me: besides being officially excluded from the Midwest Dances for Universal Peace, I have now been officially excluded from a suddenly planned sibling reunion, to be held in August. Yep, once again, only those who have been vaxxed will be allowed in. Since out of seven remaining siblings, I’m the only one not vaxxed (or even tested), you can imagine how I feel about this. It feels like a slap in the face. Or better: a jolt to the heart. Or, for the ego that wants to argue, a punch in the gut.

Likely you too have had or are having similar experiences with your families, or your familiars, the lingering Covid polarity cutting through the heart of even the most closely bonded humans.

But back to my walk . . . . Two encounters stand out from the others today, both of them extremely heartening. The first: seeing that one of IU’s covered golf cart type vehicles was approaching, we quickly moved off the sidewalk. The oldish man slowed down as he passed by, and mouthed, enunciating very slowly and clearly, two words: “THANK YOU.” We enjoyed each other several more times on different parts of campus (again, I would move off the path to accommodate the vehicle), and in both we spoke a few words, with him, in the end, reassuring me: “Don’t worry, I’m a dog person, and would never hurt any dog.” In other words, had I not moved off the path, he would have.

The second encounter provided the climax of the morning’s four mile walk, this spiritual practice wherein I commune with the soul of the Other over and over again, thanks to my two decade-long immersion in the Dances of Universal Peace. This time, Shadow and I were walking past a dorm, and I happened to notice a figure behind a glass front door, busily cleaning the glass. A woman with blond hair, likely middle-aged, smiled broadly. Of course I smiled back, and waved.

Then, just as I passed, she opened the door and called to me, excited: “You’ve been walking by here for years! Right? I remember multiple dogs.” “Yes, I yelled back, I used to have a little white dog. (See Losing Emma). I got Shadow when he was two years old, and he’s now fourteen!”

Is it just MY heart, wide open? Or has coming out of the strange two-year-long Covid saga, especially now that the mask mandates have been lifted, opened humans to each other in a way that goes underneath whatever they’re trying to do to us with these centralized exercises in compliance? In other words, did the covid nightmare backfire on our “controllers”?

Just received an email from brother John. He’s trying to see if the others would agree to each of us just having a negative covid test before our reunion, instead of vax requirement. Poor guy. He’s really trying to make it work so all of us can gather. So I had to let him know that I don’t trust what’s on the Made-in-China swabs, so won’t get tested, either. I really do feel for him. And know he’s not the one pushing this vax requirement.

Makes me wonder if any of them are pushing it. Did they really think that if they made the vax a requirement that I would get the vax? Obviously, they don’t know me, and perhaps never did.

But then I always was “the black sheep!” And, I admit, there’s a part of me that loves the rogue role, wherever I go. And even if I didn’t, remaining separate from group think is a small price to pay for this sovereign soul, at one with all.

After our walk, puppy Shadow and I returned in time to join others in the main garden, planting kale and chard, on this Earth Day.

Meanwhile, my trek-mate and former housemate Dan arrived in his black Toyota truck. Oh good! I thought; maybe he’ll help plant!

Nah! He just borrowed one of our driveways to change his oil. The nerve!

He stepped away from the truck for a moment, and guess who hopped up? And then down again before I could get his picture. Then he paraded to the middle of the street and started rolling.

Our dear Tiger, beloved apex predator who helps keep down the population of mice, rats, moles, voles, even rabbits, and unfortunately, an occasional songbird; AND, he wakes me up at night, to be let in or out, meowing piteously at my window or door until I give up and get up. Last night a total of six times up and down. And each time when I lie down again I tune into “the news” for a few minutes, my core addiction (to “the news”) apparently intact, until I drift off to sleep again.

Today, I fast from sharing the news. It’s Earth Day. I have better things to do, or to be. Grateful to the flowers, to the trees, to the clouds, to the sun and, and especially to Tiger, Shadow, and all the birds a’courting, singing their little hearts out, on this fine spring day in the center of this enormous land mass we’ve been taught to call the U.S.A.

BTW: It’s Little 500 Weekend. So we’re in for a wild time in this college town, after a two year hiatus. Down at the end of the street, two back-to-back houses will join to feature 13 bands on two stages, all day tomorrow, especially after 4 pm (the men’s race is at 2:00 pm.) These students were smart to invite all the neighbors.

Remember Breaking Away? filmed right here in Bloomington, Indiana, 1979.