Then, this morning, while at the check-out counter in the nearby Dollar Tree store (for more twice-daily “treats” to satisfy 7-year-old “puppy” Scampi’s addiction to fierce chewing), and while I was busy taking 7 packages of treats out of the bag the clerk had put them in and stuffing them instead, one by one into my backpack — the man in line behind me (old, skinny, hauling several stuffed cloth bags, looking beaten-down by the world, wouldn’t make eye contact) — had his card “rejected.”

The middle-aged woman behind him, waiting for this transaction to end, with a composed face showing no emotion, looked on as the old man, flustered, embarrassed, asked the clerk what he should do with the stuff he had hoped to buy (I didn’t notice what it was), and she, empathizing with his plight, embarrassed for him, was trying to explain to him, pointing, “Put it over there,” etc., — when the woman behind him in line remarked, in an even voice:

“Just put it on my bill.”  And again, “Just add it to my bill.”

Well, you can imagine the hoopla that caused within the man, and the clerk as well: “Thank you, thank you,” erupting over and over again from their mouths, both obviously surprised and full of gratitude.

I turned away at that point to leave the store, noticing how witnessing that encounter had suddenly shifted the entire world into blessing. And, made me feel guilty. “Why didn’t I offer too, or first?” Or, was I simply feeling competitive, ego involved?

But the lady who paid for the man’s goods did not make a big deal out of it. Not at all. I doubt she felt proud of herself for doing so. Maybe she just wanted the line to move along so she could get out of there faster? Possibly. And/or  perhaps she had just spontaneously opened her heart to the man, obviously distressed beyond all measure. A fact that I, personally, did not really register until I looked back on the encounter.

I wonder how many spontaneous, or seemingly spontaneous gestures to help others are happening? In the Dollar Treat store, in my neighborhood, in Bloomington, regionally, nationally, everywhere fractious individuals live in  fractious community?  Wonder if more generosity, or less, than usual?

I remember back in 1974, when I was newly married to the man who had been my high school boyfriend 12 years earlier. I was back in my hometown, Twin Falls, Idaho, where he was the Editor of the local paper. While out riding my bike, I had been noticing the many ways passerbys help each other, give way to each other, smile in greeting hello. Then one day I after witnessing a particularly generous scene, I suddenly asked my new husband why his newspaper doesn’t report the good news? Why only bad news? To which he replied, “Because that’s what sells papers.”

It would be wonderful if someone would try to obtain metrics that show “unexpected, good deeds, gestures of generosity” in some location, for a certain amount of time? Would that be possible? For example, at Aldi’s. So many many times when I shop there I notice myself either offering or receiving this kind of generosity, when needing a quarter to get a basket. So many times we leave each other our baskets, smiling and waving “no” when the other offers  the quarter in exchange. No. Pay it forward!

Aldi’s may indeed offer this kind of metric, if someone bothers to map it. Meanwhile, let us remember: generosity is an attitude, the attitude of Love, rather than Fear, and ultimately, its expression does not lend itself to being reduced to data points. And, these days during the likely final climax of materialism, which depends on the perception of scarcity, if Elon is correct and abundance is in the offing (search, for example, google’s Gemini AI: “Elon Musk on Scarcity vs Abundance”), it may be that pretty soon, such metrics won’t matter in the least. Everyone will get what they want. So the question is, when robbed of scarcity, when confronted with abundance, what will happen next. How much “stuff” do we really want, when so much of that stuff burdensome, and moreover, will no longer serve to create and maintain social hierarchy?

At this point, and for many decades at least, most humans have been indoctrinated into seeing the societal world hierarchically, with themselves at the bottom of the pyramid, numbed to their own latent aliveness, laboring ceaselessly for “the man,” with no recourse but starvation, death.

What happens if people are freed up to follow their own purpose? How many among us have ever even conceived of having one? Of seeing oneself as a true individual, with a life path as shown by our unique astrological chart, configured for that time, that date, that place? A chart our soul agreed to prior to birth:  with the date, time, and place exactly needed to express our own unique nature, this time around, as it unfolds through time and space?

This kind of question is not usually asked. Not yet.

In any case, what the lady did in the Dollar Tree: would that fall under the rubric socialism or capitalism? Obviously capitalism. She did it, spontaneously of her own free will. Nobody asking, nobody expecting. And the result was what socialists often preach the absence of unless socialism is instituted.

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That was the question I kept asking during my early years as a doctoral student in philosophy with, you guessed it, a focus on epistemology. I knew, intuitively, with every fiber in my being, that whatever real learning was, it wasn’t what I was doing, carving out and classifying supposedly discrete sensations from the flow into concepts, concepts into words, words into statements according to certain rules, that connected to each other via other rules, and stuffing all that I had earnestly “inductively learned” into a memory box to call upon at will for the purposes of debate. THAT wasn’t real learning. That bored me. I felt like a machine. I might as well have been a machine. 50 years ago. An early AI.

Oh, and by the way, my major professor, Joseph Agassi, told me to ignore my intuition, because it can’t be “proved.”

Even though, by the way again, what prompted me to choose him as my major professor was because the first time he spoke to us first year graduate students he told us that there is no such thing as proof! because any proof relies on a set of assumptions, which themselves must be proved. We back up into infinity that way, empty space. Our entire human world of  “learning” is thus exposed, as resting on no foundation, nothing!

It’s obvious to me now, and perhaps was unconsciously to me then as well, that Professor Agassi was of two minds: one “scientific,” in the boring sense, and the other far larger, even endless — and, likely, for the other, smaller, mind, way too frightening to seriously contemplate.

In fact, one could say my professor was exhibiting the traits of both left and right brains!

Okay, let’s start again.

Imagine a teacher deciding that the entire curriculum for his or her students would be an endeavor to understand, stand within, create, learn from, consider, expand, draw parallels to, illustrate, become one with, the phenomenon of mycellium, which entangles everything with everything else, supposedly only under the surface of the earth. In other words, imagine learning, or, I should say, re-membering (putting ourselves back together again) to become one with the whole of creation?

In doing so, we begin to recognize that the linear, causal question, “which comes first, the chicken or the egg?” makes no sense!

We live in a relational world, both within our own beings, and between ourselves and all that exists, including other human beings. There is no escaping entanglement. Not even when we die. Especially when we die! We are food for worms, which nourish the soil, threaded through with mycellium, on and on in the wood wide web.

Emergence Magazine Interview: MYCELLIAL LANDSCAPES

A Conversation with Merlin Sheldrake and Barney Steel, moderated by Emmanuel Vaughan-Lee

Excerpt:

“There’s a picture by the artist M.C. Escher of a hand drawing another hand, which is at the same time drawing the original hand. I don’t know if you’ve seen this. It’s a wonderful image. That’s, for me, a very helpful way to think about these entanglements, because it’s a co-creative, relational space where all the partners involved are helping to build the other. And that changes the way that I understand relationship and entanglement, because it becomes less about a series of dotted lines between individual entities; it becomes a kind of seething relational space, like a fabric that’s living and growing. And that’s why mycelium is a helpful metaphor for me to understand it.” — Merlin Sheldrake

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Oh? And just how many new employees were hired to figure this out? How far did one department expand with this one new service? How much did it increase local taxes?

How big will even “local” govern-ment (govern the mind) get?

I’d like to say, in response to today’s email, following Elon’s lead, FUCK OFF!

In case you haven’t yet seen the best five minutes in video history, here it is:

I’ve long lived by the motto: “Live below money, as far as possible.” Below money; in the nitty-gritty land of human-to-human exchanges, mutual generosity, cooperation, in concert with mother nature, our teacher.

Yes! Let us learn from her trees!

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Wittgenstein: “It’s difficult to go back to the beginning, and not go further back.”

When does anything begin or end? If the universe is one continuous opening, intermingling, conscious, divine process, where every “thing” is literally connected to, breathing through, resonant with, every other “thing,” then aren’t all our stories, our memories, created by us as space/time frames which we fill with “meaning”?

And what, actually, is a “thing”? Would there be any “things” without words to “name” them, without language? Do plants, insects, animals, think and communicate about “things”?

Okay, enough of your philosophising, Kreilkamp!

I’m going to declare that this  particular “new beginnings” began about five years ago, when I began dreaming of putting a 12-feet diameter yurt in this backyard. (I lived in a 20 foot diameter yurt in the Tetons for many years). It’s taken this long for the project to bear fruit. But isn’t that always the case? The greater the goal, the longer it takes?

Extrapolate that maxim to the current goal of We the People and our proxies: to take down the centuries old, decaying web of visible/invisible, hierarchical structures we have now named: The Deep State.

And we’re nowhere near done.

Any woman who has given birth to a child knows nature’s process of creation instinctively. Her brilliant body naturally knew how to silently, carefully, and thoroughly nurture a newly ensouled human being moment by moment for nine long months to when labor pains began . . . that swelling and tightening, accelerating drumbeat culminating in that exquisite agony: pushing creation out, into the wider world.

There are birth pains here too, in the process of delivering humanity from thousands of years of enslavement to a tiny elite that has utilized propaganda, money, F.E.A.R. (False Evidence Appearing Real) — the mind/body split, and especially, the false perception of scarcity — to capture us innocents for millennia. There’s no masking it: we are undergoing great agony, enduring these collective birth pains.

And we have barely begun that deliverance process. From what I hear, these next three years will force us to discover/recover our true grit.

Okay, so on to today’s yurt-raising story. As I said two posts ago, the process took four hours, and upwards of nine people participated. Some had to leave early; some came late; everybody had pizza to keep going. Most of them had already read the instructions I had hastily sent out early that morning, having just  unearthed them from desperately scrolling through to find the old email. (You’d think I would have thought of that a few days ago?) Remember, the yurt had arrived last June 2022. And sat, there undisturbed, on my front porch for nearly one year. When it arrived I was excited; thought we could get it up as soon as the platform was built, probably in a month or so. And I could have my front porch back . . .

But no. My son Colin, inventor of the Garden Tower, he of unusually questing and acute intelligence (“Mom, which is more real, my dreams or yesterday?” one of his questions as a three year old) as well as a jack of all trades (except electricity), was to build the platform. But his back and knee had given out in late 2021. He’s spent most of the time since then coming back to life, after decades of hard physical work, decades when he could depend on his body; didn’t even have to even think about it. In his 20s, for example, imagine this, the world’s worst job, for I dare you to find another, excepting hand to hand combat in rain-drenched trenches: day after day, driving over one hour in heavy traffic north to Boston to spend eight hours in what was known as “The Big Dig,” doing what? Jackhammering concrete off tunnel ceilings. 

Yes, besides having a very inventive brain, he’s been unusually physical all his life, and now, in his late 50s, his body is talking to him.

So, though my vision had driven this project to the point where the yurt sat moldering in its packing on the porch, I had to tame my emotions and attitude to accept that Colin (who lives here in the house next door) had to heal enough to do physical work again before anything else happened.

In March this year, he began to build the platform, a little at a time, because of his still touchy back and knee. Then, two weeks ago, he designed and built the corner step. OKAY. Now we can begin.

Before I show the process, let me say that in this project, we are gambling in a big way. Why? Indiana weather, which is hot and wet in summer, but with big windy, storms moving through, and cold and wet in winter. Will the yurt stand up to these conditions? If so, how long? Will we decide it best to take it down in the winter? And what must we do to ensure mold won’t develop, or if it does to erase it; what about wind? We will need to anchor it by screwing into the deck itself; that has not yet been done. On and on. As usual: Will it work out? Will this audacious experiment succeed? Answer: it all depends. I’m going to show you the process of putting the basic yurt together, without adding the totally rain proof cover that also came with it.

That last paragraph was to indicate that we are aware in advance of at least some of the drawbacks to this yurt idea. And will do our best to mitigate them. As usual with anything new; it takes awhile to figure out what you’re doing, with failures along the way. Given that the entire financial system is going down — and that includes credit; can you imagine not being able to buy with a credit card? — there goes purchases from far away in one fell swoop. We will have no choice but to get and stay local. To depend on each other. To cooperate in creative projects that at times seem impossible.

We are fortunate here, because in Green Acres Permaculture Village, since I’ve known what was coming basically all my life, we have already built in a cooperative village atmosphere; a tribal sense of connection and synergistic cooperation. Again, this silent invocation, to change the frequency, to imagine and (re)create a new (ancient) culture inside the old dying one, the materialist, separatist, wasteful, isolationist culture of the boring suburbs, has taken years.

To repeat: anything worth doing is not just worth doing well, but takes a long time to do.

So, here goes, as a series of photos, montages, and finally, a short video by dear friend and neighbor Mariella who was here part of the time, worked, took photos, ate pizza, then went home and worked her magic.

IT BEGINS: moving the yurt packages from the porch to the back yard:

Meanwhile, some of us stand around, talking philosophy, probably. On the left, Ben, like Colin, in his late 50s, finishing his PhD after ten long, grinding years, and on the way to serve as a teaching “professor” at a small California college — the dream of his lifetime, finally!

In the middle, fellow GAPV resident, 25-year-old Camden, here until May 2024, after having landed a great job as a grant writer for a worthy cause, thus utilizing his unusual brilliance at least somewhat! — gives thumbs up to the project.

On the right: ME, 80 years old (sporting my Crones Counsel t-shirt).

Okay, here goes . . . Joseph and Mariella start measuring for the circular walls, 6 feet diameter, from center of platform.

This starts the process, with constant reference to instructions, which at times did not really help much . . .

Like this sticking point. Not clear from instructions on just how the straps are to connect the two sections of wall . . . That little glitch took about 15 minutes . . . with Ben and Colin finally figuring it out.

Note instructions below Ben’s foot . . .

Oooo . . . there goes the hoop that the dome will cover! Scary! Do we know what we’re doing? Joseph, left, thinks so, apparently. Marita’s newly teenaged, and very bright son Nicolas, still groggy from having just gotten out of bed, stands and stares. (Marita decided to drop him off at the library . . .)

As the yurt goes up, more and more I feel the contrast between the pristine yurt and the ugly moloch-looking barn behind. Tear down or fix window and paint a mural? Undecided. How one project alters its surroundings, suggesting other changes, new beginnings. Yes, folks. We are in a time of new beginnings. From now on. Period.

And of course, with the yurt up, we’ve got to figure out how to furnish it. Carisa, from across the street, says she’ll direct me to a site she knows that will have circular indoor/outdoor rugs. (“Make it 9 feet across, not 12, “to allow people a place to put their backpacks.”) I tell Mariella this, and she says to put a tarp under it as well, to catch any moisture from below. Good idea. Hmmm. What kind of bed? We’ve got extras of various sizes and types. Lights? Heat? AC? Fan? (It was already hot in the yurt at noon, in mi-May, in the 80s, despite windows and door circulation. BIG QUESTION: can we raise the dome when we need to?

And then there’s the redesign of the entire back yard where the yurt hunkers on its throne.

Notice how one thing leads to another, and another, and another? That’s the way it is on our dear Mother Earth. As I always say:

WHAT WE’RE DOING ON THIS PLANET IS MOVING STUFF AROUND.

AND IT’S ALWAYS, IN ALL WAYS, AN EXCUSE FOR RELATIONSHIP.

[videopress ciQEwkv2]

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(But the financial panic we’re about to undergo is, arguably, MUCH WORSE.)

Given that my progressed Sun and Ascendant, originally in late Sagittarius, have been crawling slowly, one year per degree, for the past 19 years through the psychic, empathic sign of Pisces, insisting that I not only stop my usual fiery push ahead, but truly absorb and resonate with the constantly mutating interstices of Everything Everywhere All at Once, then I should not be surprised. Especially if it’s true that the F.E.A.R. now is even more thoroughgoing than it was during the plandemic! For the ongoing collapse of the western financial system will, of course, yes, impact absolutely Everything Everywhere All at Once.

The prophetic person to whom I am especially indebted is Clif High, whose laboriously constructed, technological attunement to collective unconcious emotional patterns as shown through shifting word frequencies — what he calls “predictive linguistics” — claims that by the final week of this month, then especially during the first week of May, ramping up all through May, and even further, into the  emotional peak of what he calls The Big Ugly, reached in June. Not that our collective emotional expressiveness (basically, stunned fury, at having been deceived, downtrodden, ruined, etc.) will peak and then fall off; no, emotional expressiveness will peak, and then remain, he claims, at that sustained level, for many months, even years.

Here are his latest two audios, which he does off the cuff while driving back an forth from the coast of Oregon, to get supplies from a small town for his homestead.

https://beforeitsnews.com/prophecy/2023/04/new-clif-high-great-expectations-future-positive-change-2540350.html

https://beforeitsnews.com/paranormal/2023/04/new-clif-high-april-intel-political-visions-housing-money-crisis-2561210.html

Laura Bruno has now put out a post on the upcoming Solar Eclipse April 19-20, in the final degree of Aries, exactly square Pluto at 0° Aquarius, followed by the Full Moon Eclipse, May 6th, in Taurus. Both eclipses dovetail with Clif High’s timing. Plus, she focuses in on how and when these eclipse degrees will be triggered over and over again for a long time to come. An excellent overview. Grateful.

That final degree of Aries, sliding into the first degree of Taurus, triggered over and over again, indicates that we are now forced to truly begin to rework our sustainment in the material world, over and over again, each time triggered to find yet even more of ourselves to contribute to the whole.

To activate our full selves. To create, in cooperation with others (Pluto in Aquarius), new ways of life that will sustain us for the long run.

As everything everywhere all at once collapses, so do we need to rise, each of us as unique individuals, fully expressive, calling upon the infinite love that fills and fuels the universe to move through us: sovereign souls, at one with all..

Laura’s post:

New Moon in Aries Solar Eclipse ~ April 19-20, 2023

Hmmm . . . just noticed two new posts from Burning Bright, both of which focus on Fear.

Here’s the title of the first one plus an excerpt:

Oh, and I just noticed that last night and today, April 13, 2023, the Sun at 22+° Aries exactly conjuncts Jupiter at 22+° Aries, both of which, then, exactly square my natal Jupiter in Cancer at 23°. And what was I obsessing over last night? Cancerian matters, home life, the human tribe that I live among here, wanting to help prepare us for impending chaos. What should I personally do? — How to ignite the fire that will be required for human survival, and yet integrate that ignition into the warmth of local family, tribe, neighborhood, community?

Not just my question.

BTW: Marita and I decided that for the next we-don’t-know-how-long, we are going to work together in the gardens, and invite others to join us, each morning, one bed at a time; get our hands and feet in the soil, feel the sun on our backs. It’s time. Earth is calling.

This will be my final daily post for awhile. Though I may post garden photos at times.

I need to get myself back where I belong, in my ensouled body (one of Mother Earth’s sensitive antennas) rather than allowing my frenetic, internet-driven left brain to totally drive me crazy! YES.

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“Please, please, put me in the ground! My roots are getting way too cramped!”

Okay okay!

Tomorrow morning, Marita and I, and whoever wants to join us, will plant all three. The kale will be fine, but we will cover the tomatoes and peppers with little tunnels just in case it freezes again.

Meanwhile, yesterday evening, out on the patio for the first time this year, another event not on the usual weekly schedule: Tuesday dinner (i.e., not Thursday Community Dinner), for friends of Andreas Iaonnides, here for one week from Ireland, where he is on a faculty in Cork that teaches piano. He will join three others for a concert in Columbus, Indiana, 45 minutes from here, on Saturday. Tuesday was his one free evening.

BTW: Next year, he moves to Dublin, to join the faculty at “The Conservatoire,” he drawls haughtily, winking. And adds, “There’s a direct flight to Dublin, from Indianapolis.” Hmmmm . . .

Dear Andreas lived in Green Acres Permaculture Village, for I think, four years. It’s impossible not to love him. I took his picture out on the patio alone, but it didn’t come out. So all you get is to see him on the far right of this group shot.

Okay. Found this soulful photo he uses as a professional pianist. BTW: while in residence here, getting his doctoral degree in music from Indiana University, he was also reading all of Dostoyevsky’s novels. Are you surprised?

Here’s the upcoming concert, in case you’re in the area. It’s one of the special concerts put on all year long to raise funds for the week-long classical music series set in rural Nashville Indiana that he and Annie Hawk, who also lived here back then, dreamed up during the plandemic. Rather than lapsing into depression and/or fear, they got busy! This August they will hold the third annual week-long Chamber Fest Brown County.

The first two series were so successful that they now have world-class musicians asking to be included.

This morning I was outside watering. And guess what! Tulips! Planted two years ago, just now came up for the first time. 

And, for the second year, this time spreading, trillium! Brought in by the birds originally, and, I presume, spread by what ( Laura Bruno told me) is called “the squirrel relocation program.” Also note the single bluebell, upper right. This is the first time bluebell has appeared.

Okay, okay. Just went back outside to get bluebell’s portrait, by itself . . . Note the trillium leaf poking into the left edge.

So glorious, SPRING.

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I was going to post a video from Greg Reese re: the origin and function of the banking system, currently undergoing slow-rolling de-materialization as I write this. And I guess I still will, despite that, of course, it’s an obvious bummer!

https://gregreese.substack.com/p/how-the-banks-work-and-why-they-are-collapsing

Do watch the above. Only five minutes. Reese knows how to speak precisely and to the point.

I decided to go ahead and post the above because I came across two items of interest this morning that, to me, surpass even the banking collapse in terms of how we are now being exposed to what was formerly hidden, and thus kept us enslaved in the material realm.

First one: I had heard rumors about the Dalai Lama’s connection to the CIA over the years, but of course, didn’t want to take the rumors seriously. But now, Caitlin Johnstone has thrown me (my previous mental/spiritual(?) scaffolding) over a very high cliff.

We are in free fall, folks.

The Dalai Lama Is A Creepy Asshole

BTW: I just noticed that the “tongue” incident is now in the New York Post, with an official apology.

Speaking of free fall: it occurs to me that the chief difference between Pluto in Capricorn and Pluto in Aquarius is this: the former is concerned with MATTER, and the latter with ENERGY.

In free fall, we have to let go of our focus on the material realm. Will we learn to fly?

Better: will we learn to fly as some species of birds do, in flocks, of one mind? We learned how to drive our cars in the material realm that way — like mad! — close together, inside steel skins, passing one another, slowing and speeding up together along winding five lane freeways. The only reason we don’t have way more accidents (despite our unspoken agreement to follow the rules of the road) is because we ARE in communion with one another, without even knowing it!

So. Will we learn to fly together, with Pluto in Aquarius? Consciously? Cooperatively? Gifting each other, like nature does it, so that all waste from one being is food for another? Some bird flocks flow in roughly triangular formation, led by a single bird, who both leads and breaks wind for the others, before rotating back, exhausted; thus does each one set the direction, taking the lead, one after another. Will we learn to do what some birds naturally do? I think so. Though it will take time to learn this new way of energy, possibly years.

We’ve got years. Pluto won’t leave Aquarius until 2044.

Will someone like me, already 80 years old, live to see/be the shift?

Hmmm . . . Maybe so.

Here’s the second item: a video that held me spellbound, all the way through. Jay Weidner has a way of speaking of “light body” that I’ve never come across before. Achieving the Light Body, transforming matter into energy: PLUTO IN AQUARIUS.

What Jesus did, according to Weidner, was demonstrate, with his “resurrection,” his own light body activation! And, says Weidner, light body activation must be preceded by inhabiting/expressing the frequency of love, compassion, as Jesus also demonstrated. Again, according to Weidner, the Vatican sent out teams of priests a few years ago to investigate this phenomenon of the light body, how it is spoken of and demonstrated in various cultures, east and west. And, says Weidner, because the Catholic Church now knows that we all have light bodies, that we all can “resurrect,” the Catholic Church is finished, will be soon demolished.

Oh my, here we go again: EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE! The material realm, whether institutional or personal, goes poof!

Here’s Jay Weidner speaking of the light body in only three minutes.

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Overall influence of Pluto moving from staid, conservative, structured, traditional Capricorn, to loose, wild, chaotic, networked, innovative Aquarius — well, what do YOU think it is? Remember, Pluto sets the wrecking ball to what ever sign it moves through. Death, to rebirth. Whatever is no longer useful, needs to go. In Capricorn Pluto has done an extraordinary job to ruin or deeply fracture the structures that have held socirty together since at least the last time Pluto moved through Capricorn in the late 18th century.

Remember too, that we have been undergoing the excruciating, first ever, Pluto Return to the U.S. chart, and are presently in grave danger of losing our Republic completely.

The point is, whatever zeitgeistian Pluto does in a particular sign, it takes a long time to do. Pluto began to travel through Capricorn in 2008. Remember that? The largest U.S. bank run ever took place in 2008.

And now, as Pluto begins its finale through Capricorn and shades today briefly into Aquarius, we have at least three (and likely many more) failed banks, two of them the second and third largest in U.S. history.

In fact, my long-term advice to myself, “live, as far as possible, below money” begins to make a lot of (common) sense. The financial system itself may crash, leaving us on our own — to trade, barter, gift, cooperate in ways not necessary until now, thus spurring the Aquarian spirit of continuous innovation as we attempt to remain centered while navigating chaos. More and more, we are going to recognize that “money” itself was merely a substitute for relationship.

Pluto’s protracted shift from ruining the WEF’s long term project of centralizing, hierarchical, top down, winner take all New World Order to life-or-death survival projects that ensure decentralizing, networked, cooperation among equals Aquarius begins now, today, and will take nearly three years to actually complete the shift from Capricorn to Aquarius. The dates are:

2023: March 23 to June 11 (in Aquarius, for less than three months this year)

2024: Jan 21 to Sep 1 (in Aquarius for nearly eight months in 2024)

2024: November 19  to March 9, 2043 when Pluto begins the process of moving from Aquarius into Pisces (in other words, PLUTO IN AQUARIUS FULL ON FOR ABOUT 18 YEARS).

Remember however, that continuous Aquarian low-tech innovation will not only be what I, and other luddites like me, want, but will also feature continuous high-tech improvements in AI, as the WEFers attempt to eliminate free will and reconfigure squirrely humans into robotic transhuman slaves.

Check out these configurations in this Aquarian ingress chart:

Seven planets total in only 43 degrees of the 360 degree zodiac, spanning parts of only two signs: Aries and Taurus.

Aries: Sun, Mercury, Jupiter (conjunct Chiron), Moon: ignition, new beginnings, fury, light fires, jump off the couch!

Taurus: Ascendant and Venus (conjunct North Node), Uranus: steady as she goes, grounded, earthy, fixed — but: eruptive Uranus there (since March 2019 through July 2025) indicates this ground underneath our feet will continue to be disturbed.

The key: center yourself in the whirlwind. Recognize your own embodied being as one center point of a continuously swirling world. Nothing is as it seems on the surface; everything continuously in motion; adaptation, on many levels, all the time, required.

Also: Notice that the Aries planets in this ingress chart just happen to be square Natal Venus, Jupiter, Sun and Mercury in the home-and-family loving U.S.A. chart. How will this play out?

Plus: the wounded healer Chiron conjunction with expansive, generous Jupiter in Aries not only squares the Capricorn MC of the ingress chart, but both then happen to be nearly exactly opposed and square the U.S. chart’s natal Saturn in diplomatic Libra. New beginnings, to heal broken relationships, required. On every level. Don’t just think politically and geopolitically. Think about broken relationships in your own life — former friends and broken family ties. Begin to heal them. We need full on mutual cooperation over many scales, if we are to not just survive, but thrive through the coming 18 years.

One very positive note: as Pluto in Aquarius gets going, it closely sextiles Sun in Aries: whatever cooperative new decentralized projects you can dream up (with Saturn in Pisces operating), begin to ignite them! With fiat money losing value, we have nothing more to lose. 

Oh, and one more, for the short term: notice that Mars, at 29° Gemini, moves into Cancer in three days, on March 26th. Expect an increase in emotionality, defense of family and family values, beginning then, until June 21st, when Mars moves into Leo.

The post Pluto enters Aquarius TODAY. What to expect? appeared first on A Conscious Journey Through End Times | Exopermaculture Legacy.

What? You wonder. What does that mean? 

I offer here, the backstory of how I arrived at that remark.

But first, let me tell you what prompted me to look up this old essay. And that’s Charles Eisenstein, his wonderful offering on four different types of “capital,” each of them of more value than economic capital: natural capital, social capital, cultural capital, and spiritual capital.

Here’s the experience that, for me, broke through the usual value given to money. A profound experience, when I was 35 years old, that involved great confusion as prelude to alchemical transformation. My life has not been the same since.

Creating a New Foundation of Values for Our Lives

© Ann Kreilkamp, 2000

The year is 1977. I am in my mid-30s and newly divorced from a short sweet marriage with the man who had been my high school sweetheart. I have $3000 to my name (we emptied out our savings account for me), and am just beginning to practice as a consulting astrologer. In order to make ends meet I also work as a “go-fer” for a friend in the construction business and as a house painter. All very part-time. As part-time as I can make it. What I want and need is time to study astrology. My free time is what I value most, and I make it my priority. I live simply, in a tiny apartment in my home town, wear second-hand clothes, and walk or ride my bicycle for transportation and health.

Within a few months, I begin to date David, an ophthalmologist with a large practice and little debt or overhead. Since I am a strict feminist, whenever we go out I pay my own way. And yet, since I am “poor,” our nights out are limited to movies, dessert and coffee. On weekends we hike or cross country ski.

One evening my new friend says to me as we each pull out money for movie tickets, “You know, Annie, we are using your survival money and my luxury money. Why don’t we just use my luxury money?”

I am astonished — and thrilled! In one stroke, David has transformed our perceptual framework for looking at money. Because he assigned two different categories to the money that flows through his hands and the money that flows through mine, we are now able to expand the recreational possibilities which his “luxury” money affords. Now, rather than a movie, coffee and dessert, we can go out for dinner, attend a concert, go on downhill ski vacations, travel to the King Tut exhibit in Seattle.

About six months later, we are eating yet another luxurious restaurant dinner when David says, while concentrating on cutting his steak, “You know, Annie, it’s great that we are using my luxury money to be able to do all these things . . .” He pauses, then looks up at me, “but you could say thank you once in a while.”

I am stunned. So stunned by his remark — it came out of the blue and in such a matter of fact manner — that it feels like he just plunged a knife into my heart. First, my utter astonishment. And hurt, that he should feel that way. Then, almost immediately, a throbbing in the solar plexus as pain warps into fury. Fury. RAGE!

HOW DARE HE!

Instantly, like whiplash, all my conditioning as a “good girl” clamps down. It is as if I am locked into a straitjacket, suffocating into a sickening, poisonous fog. The fires of my fury dampen to an icky, yucky confusion: guilt.

Suddenly the mind kicks in. “Why does he feel that way? Am I not of any value? Doesn’t he realize how unfair this is?”

Finally, calling up through the fury and guilt, the perplexed questioning, a little voice from below, calm, quiet and absolutely sure: “If I should say thank you, then he should say thank you.”

But why? Why do I feel that way? WHY was his remark unfair?

(Though I slow it down here for the purpose of describing it frame by frame, that complicated internal process was over in less than one minute.)

Meanwhile, David sits across from me, watching me struggle to control the play of feelings across my face. He is waiting for my response. But I have no words. All I have are these terrifying, inexplicable feelings.

Then, suddenly, my body takes over, propels me up from the table, pulls on my coat, and marches me three miles home in flimsy shoes in a raging blizzard.

The next day when he calls I refuse to talk to him. I refuse again the second day, and the third. For three long weeks I refuse to speak with him. Not because I am punishing him. This is not manipulation, not the usual power play between lovers. No. This is an internal meltdown. That one seemingly innocent statement of his triggered something inside me so profound that it felt like I have been flung into a boiling cauldron. Swirling feelings hurl up memories — of other times when I was furious at unfairness, of other times when I felt guilty, unworthy, of the position “money” occupies in our society.

Looking back on it now, decades later, I see my process during those three weeks in 1977 as an alchemical transformation. Lifelong feelings of defensiveness, paranoia and victimhood — as a woman, as a person who carries a different set of values than the mainstream, as one who was educated in a field (philosophy) not valued by society — were pressing up from below, demanding attention.

Meanwhile, I was looking also at my relationship with David, at the energy I had put into it. Energy which he didn’t even notice, much less recognize the value of! Why not? As was usual in my relationships back then, besides being his lover and companion, I was functioning as his psychiatrist. Through my patient listening and questioning, he was learning to look inside himself, and wonder what was there.

I was doing the work that women have done for centuries, invisible work, soul work, work that has to do with the human spirit, with the connections we have with one another, and with our own inner lives. But that, obviously, wasn’t of value, or he would have realized that if I needed to say thank you, then so did he.

(Bear in mind that I don’t mind thanking people for favors done. I realize that the human community is fueled by the grace of this remark between those who appreciate each other. However, in this case, given our culture’s assumptions, had I been saying thank you to him without his reciprocation, it would have put me in the usual subservient position.)

I had taken in what he was saying with my mind and heart and solar plexus, and during those three weeks his remark drifted down into my bones, where memories are stored . . .

Like the time when I was a young adult and my father took me up to his study to show me the books he kept on each of his eight children. He wanted to congratulate me, he said, for costing him the least money. In other words, the less he spent on me, the more value I was to him. But since money seemed to be his most important value (or why congratulate me? And why compare me to my siblings?), then he was also saying that I was worth less than the others. So confusing.

Like the times, as a teenager, when I would show my report card to my parents and receive $25 — $5 for every A, straight A’s. That was a lot of money back then, and my academic “success” separated me from my brothers and sisters (I was the oldest), who were understandably jealous of the money and upset to have to follow me in school. Then, to drive me further from them, I would flaunt my “superiority” by pretending money didn’t matter, squandering the money or losing it. But it did matter, or wouldn’t have had such an attitude. Again, so confusing!

Confusing especially because, deep down, money didn’t matter to me. Not the way it should have, according to my father. When I was a high school senior he bought a new car. And instead of trading in his old one he generously gave it to me. But I kept leaving the car door open on the street side, and he would arrive home and see it open. And be furious. So he took the car away. But I acted as if it didn’t matter, just to spite him. So I was pretending to be what I really was! Because it didn’t really matter to me. He had assumed I wanted it without asking me.

As a teenager, I already truly didn’t value money or the things it buys and, I could also use my insouciant attitude toward money to passively rebel against my father. (Which came first?)

To complicate the matter of money further, for many years I had known that it was unfair that our family (Daddy was a doctor, as was David) had more money than most people in our small town.

I vividly remember walking home from school one day in first grade with my friend Freddy, also the child of a doctor. Across the street, walking in the same direction, but alone, was another first grader, “troublemaker” Lorenzo Ortega, a Mexican child of migrant laborers, or, as we called them, “wetbacks.” Suddenly, I had a eureka moment: from some place deep within came the knowledge that I was a child of privilege. That this privilege was a lucky accident. That it did not make me “worth more” than Lorenzo. I felt elated and secure to realize how lucky I was; at the same time I felt terrible, since I recognized the unfairness of the class difference between Lorenzo and me. This knowledge flashed through, wordless. It was not something I could articulate, much less share with anyone, especially another child of privilege.

So now in my 30s, and estranged from David, for three weeks I wrestle with memories which provoke me to notice my own contradictory attitudes towards money and materialism. This wrestling is passionate, and it is purposeful: though I have no way of knowing it, I am unconsciously reaching for something, some larger way of understanding values. Some way of perceiving, of reframing the entire discussion, so that all the elements of my life and of what is happening between David and myself will reconfigure into a new gestalt.

And finally, the fog clears. I get it. Finally, it is there, The Eureka Moment.

“Money,” I announce to myself, “is energy. But it is not the primary energy, not “bottom line.”

“No. The primary energy is human energy. This means that for some people, depending on their nature and training and how that nature and training is valued by the culture, their human energy is easily translated into money energy — and therefore, into other forms of physical manifestation. For others, their human energy is not recognized in this culture because it translates more naturally and easily into invisible dimensions, and so cannot be quantified in the same way.”

What this means for David and me: each of us is giving our human energy equally to the relationship. Since David’s energy translates easily into money energy and mine does not, our culture views his energy as more valuable than mine and does not recognize the equal exchange between us. Nor do we ourselves recognize the equal exchange, since we have both been conditioned by this culture. It takes enormous intellectual and emotional effort to see through the veil of one’s own culture.

Looking back on it now, I can say that David and I were fortunate in that the remark he made was the knife which, for me, cut through the veil to reality, leaving me extremely confused and in a sustained process of alchemical dissolution and transmutation.

David’s remark collapsed the cultural screen, penetrated to the heart of my nature, and left me feeling furious, confused, unworthy and guilty. Why? Because in thinking about money, I had not recognized the distinction between nature and culture. Between me and what others wanted me to be.

Each of us has a certain nature, which more or less “fits” into the culture we happen to be in. Each of us is conditioned into the culture as children and young adults, with more or less success, depending on our nature. For me, as a person called to work mainly with invisible energies, the cultural fit was always problematic, and yet, since I am a human being who longs for connection with other humans, I was forever, and with little success, seeking to ”fit in.”

When we are successfully conditioned into a culture’s “reality,” we don’t realize that there is a difference between culture and nature. Those of us who have trouble “fitting in” are fortunate in that we have the opportunity to recognize the difference between who we are and what culture wants us to be. With this recognition, at first we can usually see only two options open to us: either we continue our essentially frustrating attempts to “fit in” to culture’s “reality” or, resigned to our loneliness, we rebel against it. But these are not the only two options. In fact, both options assume cultural reality as the basic given, to which we must either conform or not.

What happened to me during that three week period was this: I realized a new given. The new given was my own human nature, the energy that moved through me, and its translations into other energetic and material forms. I was the primary given. David was the primary given. As is everyone on earth her or his own primary given. Each of us is the center of her or his own reality, interacting with all the others. Each of us, as the center of the entire universe, is the real bottom line.

When we see only two options in relating our nature to culture, the polarity of conformity or rebellion, we are making culture (and its artifacts, including money) the primary given, rather than our own individual selves. In either case, no matter how much we succeed in conforming or rebelling, we never quite make it. There is always somebody or something more perfectly in conformity or rebellion than we are. So we strive until exhaustion, at which point we feel disappointed, or bitter, or icky, yucky. In short, guilty. Guilt is our culture’s glue. It binds us together and keeps us in our place, looking for something outside to give us our value.

This business of looking to the outside, of living from the outside in rather than the inside out, is so pervasive that it might give some clue as to why it took me three weeks to “figure out” why I was so angry. And why I had such a strong drive to figure it out. My life with another was at stake. Though I didn’t realize it at the time, the understandings that would result from those three weeks in the underworld would change my life.

I spent three weeks groping blindly in the dark, a very turbulent dark, unable to do anything but feel and remember, and re-experience the excruciating contradictions which the culture’s “bottom line” value of money had drummed into me. The key to my being able to reconfigure the way I looked at money was this three-week period which preceded it.

Usually, whenever we look at anything that upsets us, we try to ”figure it out” as quickly as possible. Sometimes this approach to a “problem” works fine; at other times, it yields at best a superficial solution, a mere bandaid. The wound goes unhealed. It is just covered up.

During the one year when I was a college teacher (in a California experimental college: I was then fired for being “too experimental”) back in 1972-73, I would say to my students: “I much prefer a fertile confusion to a sterile clarity.” During those three weeks in 1977, I experienced the dramatic results of this preference. When a “problem” is deep — in this case, not merely personal, but cultural and historical — then we need to have the courage to open to the depths of ourselves and the pain and continued upset that this provokes in order to have any hope of eventually finding real clarity.

For radical new understandings do not originate in the mind, but come up through the body. And that takes time. Matter moves slower than mind. Saturn in Taurus is, more than anything else, S-L-O-W. To creatively utilize Saturn in Taurus during this six-month period requires patience, endurance, and the courage to allow ourselves to re-member the buried pain of experiences that hold contradiction at their core. Only as we allow ourselves to descend will we be able to finally ascend with a more real set of values as the foundation for our lives.

My body during those long weeks was the source of both my memories and my capacity to hold all those memories, no matter how they conflicted, simultaneously in the same emotional space. And, since nature always seeks order out of chaos, the chaos of that turbulent time led, in the end, to this new (old) kind of order which had at its heart three assumptions:

1. Everything humans do can be expressed in energetic terms.
2. The primary bottom line value is not money energy but human energy.
3. Human energy can be translated into many different kinds of energy, of which money is only one.

Armed with this new gestalt, I called David up, and we arranged to meet. As I outlined for him the process I had gone through I could feel him absorbing what I was saying, and getting more and more excited. In the end, David was as thrilled with the way I had reframed “money as energy” as I had been with his original bifurcation of money into “luxury money and survival money.”

As a result of this perceptual shift, we both recognized that each of us was bringing equal energy to our relationship. That my energy, though less visible in its effects, was of equal value to his.

Within weeks, enveloped in our shared new field of understanding, and yet not wanting to live together, we decided to buy me a house to live in. And did so. Of course, when our friends heard about this, they snapped into the usual cultural perception of “the doctor and his mistress,” and were embarrassed and uncomfortable. But the new perceptual field that David and I had created was so powerful and so sure that they soon were pulled into it with us, and rejoiced, not because I was “lucky to have a rich and generous boyfriend,” but because they too were beginning to glimpse the expanding field of possibilities which we can enjoy once we realize that for every human being, their own personal human energy is the real “bottom line,” equal to that of everyone else.

I went on to establish a community magazine in that house, OpenSpace, putting the editorial offices in my living room and the production office downstairs. For two years our little community of the heart within the larger community of that small town shared a field of intent and delight as we put to work this new/old idea that all of us are of equal value. That as, together, we work to open up space, we discover and enjoy endless new worlds.

The post “I SEEK TO LIVE BELOW MONEY.” appeared first on A Conscious Journey Through End Times | Exopermaculture Legacy.

Eisenstein elucidates, descriptively and succinctly, the emergent world view of sovereign souls, at one with all.  As he states:

Humanity is going through a transitional stage,

moving from the Old Story of separation,

to the New Story of interbeing.

Every sentence he creates to differentiate the two stories is worth pondering. His is essentially the permaculture vision as well.

Want more? Here’s Rupert Sheldrake in conversation with Eisenstein.

The post Is Charles Eisenstein’s New Story Ours? Let It Be So. appeared first on A Conscious Journey Through End Times | Exopermaculture Legacy.

Not that this tale is “tall” in the sense that it’s exaggerated or untrue. Just that I have to stand tall to be able to actually catch glimpses of the personal, interpersonal, social, political and cultural ramifications of the tale I have to tell.

Okay. Let’s see if I can do this . . .

I want to focus on a singular moment in time (and are not all moments singular?) when multiple layers of “reality” ballooned out as I was passing by the bench outside my home, the one that lines the street, surrounded by bushes that I planted there back in 2006, to signal friendliness to passing walkers. The Little Free Library was added later, perhaps in 2018? and is always full to bursting (including, one time, a package of Depends . . .) I’m thinking of adding a Little Free Seed Library out there, since growing food locally, transforming chemicalized suburban lawns into fruitful, productive gardens, is obviously needed during this time of massive inflation and disturbed food distribution networks.

Just in: a likely rail strike just prior to Christmas. Imagine the supply chain consequences . . .

Now that we in Green Acres Permaculture Village are (finally) collecting our own seed, we do have plenty to go around. We’re attempting to learn from Nature, “to grow community from the ground up,” and just like Nature scatters her wealth with abandon, we seek to share any overflowing abundance.

GAPV is a “tiny paradise” inside a typical suburb of mostly disconnected humans, post-industrial humans still indoctrinated to believe we live in a world of scarcity, and so must act selfishly in order to ensure survival. Who started that kind of erroneous thinking. Darwin? Or should we look further back, to the time when social conditions changed, so radically that this kind of thinking became possible? Back, say, to the industrial revolution, when the commons was fenced and interdependent village life interspersed with small farms emptied out into vast, impersonal cities and wage slavery took over, substituting the false god of “money” for our sacred connection with the land.

Whatever the real history of our predicament now, on that day last week when I passed by the bench with puppy Shadow on our daily morning walk, I noticed three disturbances, soil piled next to three small, deep holes, all in the area of the bench. Taking a closer look, I noticed that none of the bushes, nor the bench, or the Little Free Library had been disturbed. THAT blew me away. Whoever dug those holes had carefully not ruined what had been set intentionally in place. And I knew who they were: workers, “migrant laborers” we used to call them when I was a kid, likely Mexican. Spanish speaking laborers for companies contracted by the gigantic corporation that is installing “fiber optic” cable all over Bloomington, including underneath our Green Acres Neighborhood.

Oh goodie! So our minds can go faster and faster and faster, zoom all over the world on screens, leaving our poor bodies, which cannot help but attune to the slower rhythms of nature, behind . . . thus does the split between mind and body widen . . . and enable fake pandemics to install F.E.A.R. (False Evidence Appearing Real) of Death in people who are not in touch with their brilliant bodies, their naturally healing immune systems, not to mention the the role of Death in Nature, rich compost for new life . . .

When we returned from our walk that morning I decided to take a photo of the situation, to document just how carefully the workers had not disturbed the intent of the area. As I walked back out there with my ipad, I was concerned that taking a photo would alarm the workers.  So as I approached, I asked softly if they spoke English. “No.” I didn’t think so. Okay then . . . With gestures and smiles I pointed to the holes, and to the little array of bushes around the bench, and so on, thanking them profusely for not disturbing!

At this point they relaxed (there were three of them, two working holes across the street). We all began to smile, their white teeth lighting sweaty brown faces. As I raised up the ipad to take the photo, the man digging the holes on my side of the street scurried off to the left so as not to get caught in the picture.

I had been walking past these hard working men, digging deep holes in various spots in the neighborhood, every morning for about two weeks, each time smiling and saying hello. And each time, at first, whoever shyly had caught my eye would look dumbfounded and suspicious, so used was he to either being ignored or treated as an object rather than a subject in his own right. (See Martin Buber’s distinction between I-Thou and I-It.) Indeed, these men reminded me of how a cornered wild animal must feel: scared, on alert, afraid of being captured. In short, I suspect they are all “aliens,” and must watch out, lest they be deported.

Now here’s where it gets interesting, for me . . .

I, personally, am massively opposed to the Biden administration policy of not just allowing, but encouraging millions of undocumented aliens — not just from Mexico, but from other Central and South American countries — and beyond — to invade our southern border. (For the Democrats, it’s because they are likely to vote Democrat. For Klaus Schwab and Co, the invasion carries a larger purpose — see below.) I know damn well that thousands of these people are prisoners let out of jails, cartel members, and/or mules for fentanyl and other exceedingly dangerous drugs, sex and SRA pimps for trafficked children and women. I know that what’s going on down there is very bad, just as it is in Europe, where countries are being invaded and overrun by refugees from the Middle East and elsewhere..

(Add to that the buses that drop people just released from Indiana prisons in Bloomington, at one of the already massively overcrowded homeless shelters, since this compassionate city offers so many places that serve them, with both food and shelter.)

I am fully aware that this dissolution of all national borders is part of the Great Reset WEF/UN/NWO agenda. Thrust hordes of strangers, already deeply disturbed from having to flee their own countries due, likely, to ruination created by transnational companies and the now failing, flailing American Empire that sought dominion over impoverished nations while invading and extracting resources for purely selfish ends (See Confessions of An Economic Hit Man), and what can we expect but chaos? Yes, that’s precisely the intent: Ordo Ab Chao: Out of chaos, order. New World Order. A single centralized police state to lock down the entire world — for which the Covid Con was dress rehearsal.

So yes, I am highly aware of the 2020, now 2030, Agenda. And I cannot help but contrast my hyperawareness of the NWO need to dissolve all national borders and therefore national sovereignty with my natural attunement with and compassion for, these sweet-natured, hard-working, brown skinned, Spanish speaking laborers employed by companies contracting with transnational  corporations to not only link up the entire globe with more and more advanced technology, but to use it to surveil, direct, and control us all.

My little bench out front has been, for many years, a signal to those walking by that they are welcome to stay awhile, bring a book to share or take one, and rest their weary feet.

Of course most people who pass by are in cars, ensconced in their own private universes. But you know what? More and more people now walk our neighborhood, going down this street, passing by the Green Acres Permaculture Village and Farm. See what’s going on inside from the outside, and being invited in, on Thursdays, for Community Dinner.

Our natural attunement and compassion for those of our own kind, and especially for those who suffer, or are otherwise in need, is being hijacked by all sorts of nefarious forces, out to do us in with what we who see through the ruse call “virtue signaling.” (Remember the jab: “Do it for grandma? Do it not for yourself but for others?”)

Watch out. Stay sovereign. Sovereign souls are naturally attuned to others, not manipulated into selling our souls, one way or another, to the devil of the corporatist, transhumanist, technocratic state.

Do I sound extreme? These are extreme times. Difficult to fathom. Difficult to negotiate.

Notice your attunement with individual others. Notice how your natural compassion for others gets hijacked, to serve technocratic ends. Recognize the difference. Find your aliveness inside in the dynamic contrast between the two.

The post THREE HOLES BY THE BENCH: A Tall Tale for Troubled Times appeared first on A Conscious Journey Through End Times | Exopermaculture Legacy.

And, I might add, that includes the Covid Con argument that we should get the jab because we want to protect others.

Five Psychological Experiments That Explain the Modern World

Those who specialize in the manipulation of the human mind — whether they be advertisers, academics, psychiatrists, politicians, or priests, themselves tend to be manipulated, by those above them, and that layer by those above them, etc., until we get to the top of the pyramid, and indeed, there does appear to be a nearly invisible pyramid of corporate control that rules the world.

In its first 30 out of a total 103 minutes, the tightly edited film Monopoly demonstrates that Blackrock and Vanguard sit atop the corporate “institutional investment” pyramid, with the result, they own just about everything that you don’t grow or resource yourself from the Earth, and/or share or trade with neighbors and friends who also choose to live, as far as possible, below money, in attunement with the natural world. Remember: nature herself does not use money. Money is a human invention, a scrim atop nature, all too often blinding us to the infinitely nourishing capacity of what lies beneath.

This Monopoly film . . .

. . . itself does a superb job of describing how, using the internet search function, one can figure out that there is indeed an unseen, unnoticed corporate pyramid, and that these two firms, Blackrock and Vanguard, occupy its tippy-top. The major shareholders who benefit from this ownership monopoly constitute not just the 1%, but the .001%.

Given the pyramidal ownership structure, Monopoly also makes it clear just how the Covid Con could be rolled out, all at once, all over the world. 

And yet, is that the top? Perhaps not.

The famous (and real) crop circle with a binary code and extraterrestrial face

Getting back to the corporate pyramid (which, you must admit, no matter how large and seemingly all-encompassing, suddenly looks merely mundane when confronted with this phenomenal crop circle mystery) . . .

Unfortunately, Monopoly was only able to devote the final 5 minutes to measures we can take to make sure the corporate push for total control does not succeed.

And yet, we, who have been thinking on these matters for decades know the rest. And they all revolve around decentralization, localization, inside thee home, inside the neeighborhood, inside the town — with horizontal networking of independent sovereign beings and collaborative groups, all working with Earth herself as Mother and Mentor.

And, I’d venture to say, let us assume contact with other dimensions as well — through dreams, intuition, synchronicities, and so on and on . . .

We are not alone in this universe.

We are all-one with the infinitely mysterious whole.

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I’m also grateful to have survived nearly 80 years, as witness and hopefully, conscious participant, in what does seem to be The End Game. Not the End Times, but the End Game. Notice the difference. One is apocalyptic, our entire world blinking out in nuclear fire; the other is truly a GAME. We have learned to view this game from above; by now we are familiar with the players, the rules, the finite framework within which it is played. And we know: the entire contraption, this deep state apparatus, “real” though it may appear, floats in Mystery.

I came in from garden “work” this noon to find Tiger on the porch. He knows how to balance his energies: intense, dynamic hunting, playing, connecting with neighbors near and far, then bam, gone. Out like a light.

And not just on a comfy couch. He knows how to sleep anywhere, draped over anything.

Tiger trusts the universe.

As does this beautiful flower . . .

. . . which Plant ID identifies as a a “crocosmia,” supposedly native to Africa? It’s been unfolding little by little over the past three days in the midst of purple pirella, native to Asia. This flower’s buds offer their own timeline, Nature’s timeline, here slow and imperceptible, and then, suddenly, unexpectedly startling into magnificence, as tiny buds bloom one by one or two by two, starting with the two at the top, over this past week. I have never seen this plant before; it came in, unbidden, via the birds?

Nature persists; her ways are both magnificent and mysterious, cycles within cycles within cycles, undeterred by whatever frenetic, fibrillating humans conjure up with our febrile, feverish monkey minds.

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From there, I went out to my self-declared job of weeding the front corner beyond the fence — vines galore! all of them attempting to weave together what would like to remain apart!

About two hours later, I looked outside in the front, and saw podmate Joseph putting the finishing touches on what he and podmate Daniel had decided to do, put a small table out front with daily offerings, along with an unlocked and unsecured donation box.

The first three offerings? Garlic scapes, kale, and mugwort starts, with suggestions as to how to prepare them as food, or, with mugwort, where and why to plant.

I asked him to wait there while I run to get the ipad. He did.

As he says, it may take a few days for neighbors and others who walk by to get used to this idea. We’ll see how many would like to plant mugwort starts for future yield; we’ll see if they can be trusted with the donation box . . .

This new offerings table sits right next to our Little Free Library, which for the past five years has featured “strangers” continuously exchanging books and magazines. The gift economy at work! Here’s hoping for a happier, healthier world where folks with surplus of any kind are naturally moved to share with others. Mutual sharing and exchange. The way Nature does it. Weaving together what would like to remain apart.

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Here goes . . .

We have been indoctrinated to see anarchists as violent extremists. But is this necessarily true? Do the words “violent” and “extremist” always go together? No. Anarchists are extremists, yes, in that they would relegate all forms of human-made governing structures and laws to the dustbin. But why? How could they think that way? Wouldn’t the result be chaos, “every man for himself”? I.e., is what they are calling for actually possible? I think so. And it may be coming directly at us, as formerly powerful human-made structures and organizations — banks, money, corporations, entertainment, academia, medicine, local, state, federal governing bodies and laws, both visible and invisible, continue to show evidence of corruption to the point where they might just crumble to dust.

And guess what? This may be a good thing. Because what informs and inspires anarchy is animism.

Two days ago, I was standing in line at Kroger, waiting on a woman in her early 40s and her young overweight son. The woman herself looked both physically strong, and yet exhausted, as if she leads a hard life. But: in her groaning overloaded basket she had $277 worth of “food,” packaged junk mostly, plus lots of sugary sodas. The wait took a long time. She pulled out four credit cards and a debit card. Tried the debit card first, but it didn’t go through. So she inserted the credit cards, one after another, putting a small portion of her bill on each one. “How much is left?” she asked the clerk, pulling some cash out of her pocket. Okay, $70 cash helps, but . . . The clerk waited patiently . . . Finally, she asked him, “How do I use my debit card as a credit card?” He pointed to a button, and she was able to complete the transaction. During this ten minute ordeal, at first I watched in selfish consternation (come on, lady-buying-junk-food, you’re holding up the line) — which then melted into compassion. What kind of economic edge is this woman riding, that she must use multiple, nearly maxed out credit cards?

Yesterday evening I told my son Colin about this incident, and when he heard about all the credit cards, his eyes widened. He then told me a story of his own. He had been at Kroger about a week ago, when an obese black woman in front of him, who had bought a similar mountain of packaged junk for food, discovered that her phone did not work. She would need to put more money into it. She didn’t have cash with her. What would she do? She needed to call her son to have him pick her up!

Colin heard all this, and somehow maneuvered to get the woman out of the line, so that he could hand her $20 to put on her phone without anyone knowing.  As you can imagine, her gratitude was boundless.

This is our reality now, full of incidents like the two above, as clearly desperate people navigate our inexorably decomposing social and economic milieu which requires continuous adjustment on everyone’s part, and often results in miracles of connection. Like Colin’s story. Like the one I told about the woman who went out of her way to return my wallet.

I haven’t personally noticed that many “empty shelves” yet, except for certain items at Aldi, which remain missing for weeks. Like cat food! Like non-gluten bagels! Two of my “necessities.” I know that’s bullshit. What IS necessary these days depends on just how far  you’ve gone down the scale of being able to provide for yourself and others, as inflation eats away at all but oligarchs’ incomes,  savings, retirement funds.

Yesterday, all day long, I noticed that I was filled with a sense of dread, impending doom. I stayed with the feeling, noticing it more and more viscerally, and sensed that I was dipping into collective dread, much as I would at times notice myself dipping into the collective currents of F.E.A.R. (False Evidence Appearing Real), coursing through the collective unconscious during the long strange Covid Con saga.

I knew that if I just “got outside,” worked in the soil, the dread would disappear, and it did. Moving back into the natural world did wonders, as usual.

Early this morning, I found myself reading through a number of posts on the three-month old nevermoremedia.substack.com. Internal guidance directed me there, where I found the same kind of attitude that I myself have entertained for nearly 50 years. On this substack website it’s called “anarchy,” which is equated with “natural law.” I.e., only as we recognize our communion with mother nature, do we feel both our individuality and our social connections. And when we do, man-made governments are not necessary.

For example, try this one on for size, and there are more where that came from. All thought-provoking.

THE INEVITABLE TRIUMPH OF ANARCHISM

Me? I couldn’t get enough. It starts with a quote from Emma Goldman, an old hero of mine.

Which brings me to the main subject I wanted to write about today: “religion,” the etymology of which I have long considered to refer to a “binding,” like a ligament binds. On the other hand, it turns out that the etymology of this word is open to debate.

But if we do see religion as something that binds? What is it to which we are bound? And I would say, to the natural world which our embodied selves are embedded within and breathe in unison with all other embodied beings — insects, animals, birds, trees, plants, minerals, the Earth herself, out to the solar system, the galaxy, on and on, no end to it. The divine embraces and nourishes all, filling and fueling the universe.

ANARCHY, as an ideology; ANIMISM as what powers anarchy.

BTW: Note also, one way of parsing the etymology of anarchy = no archon!

(I first read about archons in John Lamb Nash’s fascinating book on the gnostics, Not in HIs Image, and was so freaked out I couldn’t finish the book. I’ve gotten stronger since.)

From Spiritual Ecology, and the Living Breathing World of Animism

Anima Mundi is a far cry from Christianity, or any belief system that features a disembodied “God” (or gods, goddesses) who created, or caused, this natural world to come into being. As if from a “Big Bang.” To me this is nonsense! As causality itself is nonsense, a mental apparatus we humans “thought up” in order to make linear sense in 3D of the mysterious multidimensional panorama of Being.

Rather, I sense that what we refer to generically as “the world” always was and always will be, all beings within it breathing together, rising and falling in what Buddhists refer to as “co-dependent arising.” Aliveness and consciousness as primary. An external “God” unnecessary. Ockham’s razor!

And with that in mind, perhaps the fact that more and more people are leaving Christianity and declaring themselves Atheists is the first step in a more mature direction. I know that’s how I evolved. From believing in the Big Daddy Sky God (Roman Catholic version), to Atheism (very short lived), to immersion within the divinity that shines through all.

In other words, for me, Christianity is a childlike form of religion, because it needs a Big Daddy God to make sure people follow the tenets of decency towards one another. Certainly better than hedonism, pure unadulterated selfishness! Yes! Way better than acting as if, and assuming that, “nothing matters, there is no meaning in the world, so just do whatever you want. Who cares if it harms another?” This degeneration does seem, increasingly, to infect especially younger generations, raised on screens, at one remove from organic life on earth.

But anarchy, if seen as the mental structure that accompanies animistic immersion in the whole of Being, makes both individuality and social connection automatic. Just as it was automatic for my son Colin to help the woman who stood in line before him at Kroger. He didn’t think. He just responded. Just as it was automatic — once I got through my egocentric impatience with both the time she was taking and her obvious disregard? indifference? uneducated? understanding of what food actually nourishes the human body/mind/spirit — for me to respond with empathy, to actually feel myself inside this woman, desperate to successfully juggle multiple nearly maxed-out credit cards in order to incrementally pay her $277 bill.

Another way of talking about animism, this ancient religion, this binding back to nature, is to invoke the contemporary phrase, “spiritual ecology.” Here’s a beautiful meditation on the mysterious presence that we share with all beings.

What Is Spiritual Ecology?

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Well, for one thing, we have fewer processed, glyphosated, pesticided, GMO foods, i.e., fewer fake foods produced through Big Ag that render us sullen, addicted, and obese: three big plusses.

And actually, what we have, once we stop complaining and hoarding and instead get our very souls activated, is a revolution in our way of life. We know what it is already; it’s been coming for years: support local food 100%. This includes supporting local farmers through CSA’s and farmers’ markets, a new focus on organics, permaculture, seed and tool sharing, farm-to-table restaurants, local food co-ops, gardens replacing lawns for both homes and institutions, even parks, school yards, and . . . dearest to my heart, something we’re demonstrating as a tiny template in Green Acres Permaculture Village, this, already practiced elsewhere . . .

And, if you have no place to grow food except an apartment or condo patio, see how my inventor son Colin’s Garden Tower Project can help. Medical intuitive, astrologer, and blogger Laura Bruno, who also sports a wondrous “green thumb,” in this post on her garden, shows how she utilizes her Garden Tower in a beautiful, delicious manner, despite pesky critters trying to get in.

Just imagine: meeting with all your nearby neighbors, to decide which foods of your mutually envisioned cornucopia each of you will grow, and exchange with others — and, when necessary, calling upon each others’ helpful skills and/or tools. For example here, each year we give one of our garden beds to a neighbor across the street, as well as share with them our roomy street front for chip drop loads. Another neighbor is going to give us space to grow our tomatoes in the back of their yard. I’ve been handing them produce for years, and they’ve been handing me delicious Armenian borscht, among other delectables. Last year, our greenhouse (which used to be a garage) was utilized by other urban farmers in town to start their seeds, since our greenhouse has  enough room for them, too.

Get the picture? This could be a good time, as we learn to live, as far as possible, below money.

Money does not make the world go round. Nor is money the “bottom line.”

The bottom line is NATURE and that includes our own precious bodies, each a quivering antenna linking Earth below to Heavens above.

Our “all-too-human” energy, pulled in from both Above and Below to circulate through and radiate from our willing, open hearts, when expressed productively and cooperatively, makes our beautiful planet grow round.

See the last five weekly (Sunday) posts on our Green Acres Permaculture Village site, where through photos we indicate how we get our garden going each spring, starting with cleaning, sharpening, oiling tools, disinfecting walls, trays and pots, then only then mixing substances needed for soil to start seeds.

We’re also on facebook and Instagram.

And see our site in the Foundation for Intentional Communities website for the larger context. The ic.org site might give YOU ideas as to how to begin your own intentional community right where you live, at your own home with neighbors. It’s a lot more fun when we grow food together.

Here we are, back in January, cleaning, sharpening, and oiling tools.

Seedlings as of this afternoon, March 12, an unusually cold day for this time of year. Tomorrow temps much warmer.

The post FOOD SHORTAGES? Let us turn crisis into opportunity, at home, with our neighbors appeared first on A Conscious Journey Through End Times | Exopermaculture Legacy.

First, here’s the Full Moon chart, set for the minute the Sun and Moon oppose one another exactly in Bloomington, Indiana, 6:48 pm EST today.

Then, if you haven’t done so already, check Laura Bruno’s post.

Full Moon in Cancer and North Node in Taurus ~ January 17-18, 2022

Okay, so Taurus is already entering into the picture . . .

And check my post yesterday, for comments on Sun/Pluto in Capricorn opposed Moon in Cancer.

Before furthering the discussion, please note that Cancer and Taurus are the most natural, fertile and nourishing signs in the zodiac, by far. And yet they are both featured now, in dark, freezing, icy mid-January. Hmmm. . . .

The reason Taurus is featured, Laura explains. The nodal cycle of the moon moves backwards .  .  .

. . . and, in May 2020, very shortly after the plandemic began, the nodes moved into Gemini and Sagittarius.

North Node: where we are going; South Node, where we came from.

Okay, looking at that Gemini/Sagittarius axis, one might say that since May 2020, we have been deeply absorbed in picking up information about “what’s really going on,” re: “the virus” (Gemini), on biological, psychological, sociological, political, geopolitical levels. AND, whatever “facts” or “news” we choose to focus on in any or all the above areas, depends upon our overall Sagittarian perspective, which includes our views of what Truth is or can be, as well as our values. Within one perspective, MSM news jumps into the foreground. Within another, “alternative” news pops up.

But, I’d say, speaking from my triply Sagittarian (Sun/Ascendant Mars) point of view, one which aims to continuously expand my philosophical perspective, I’d say that, for the most part, people in this nation have been mentally captured into what Big Med, Big Pharma, and Big Media have declared, ad nauseam, as Reality. In fact, I’d say that Jon Rappoport’s new post, that this country is one giant (Rockefeller Medicine) HOSPITAL is exactly right.

AMERICA IS A HOSPITAL

Please read his post before going any further here to begin to grok just how completely the Cartesian “I think I am” with its corollary, that my body is utterly separate,  a mere machine, something that “I,” that is, my mind, drags along with me, and scares me, terrifies me, needs to be constantly analyzed and fixed by outside medical and other “experts,” has engulfed western culture.

For if my body’s not fixed, it will die, which means “I” will die! HELP!

Remember, what’s driving the Covid Con is F.E.A.R. (False evidence Appearing Real), and ultimately, this resolves to fear of death.

Once we recognize the Cartesian mind/body split as a profound, pervasive phenomenon, one which has informed and undergirded western culture since the rise of the industrial age, we then realize that Taurus, which governs the body, both our own body and the body of Mother Earth, has been mistakenly, or by design, relegated to machine-like status, too.

The organic notion that the body is a biome, an living ecosystem, entangled with the greater living ecosystem in which we all live and move and have our being, is thus foreign to the western way of thinking. People who recognize this more all-inclusive permacultural way of thinking, people like Dr. Zach Bush, for example, are simply, not understood. Note that this video was done in 2019, pre-Covid.

Okay, so back to Cancer, where the Full Moon sits today, balancing beautifully, the cold hard traditional structures of Capricorn, both visible and invisible — including that of the hospital system! — which are being taxed, stressed, fractured, even dismantled day by day, thanks to death/rebirth Pluto in Capricorn, as the Covid Con continues, and the Sun, on this Full Moon day, just happens to illumine that purgative process, asking us to remember, remember, the softness, the care, the Full Moon’s Cancerian nourishment of our bodily Taurean biomes, and the Mother Earth of which each of her smaller bodies, including our own, is an antenna reaching to the stars.

Okay, now back to the Nodal axis, which, over the past few days, has been moving from Gemini/Sagittarius into Taurus/Scorpio. North Node in Taurus, where we are going, down into the body, our own bodies, portions of the Mother Earth body. What we must integrate: South Node, in Scorpio, all the buried/denied, or projected emotions that we don’t like to think are down in there, settled into, becoming one with, the tissues and bones of our physical bodies.

Think of the physical body as the outpicturing of what is unconscious within us. In fact, think of the physical body as identical to the unconscious. (See The Book of the It, by Georg Groddeck (1961), which deeply influenced my thinking a long time ago. Groddeck is regarded as a pioneer of psychosomatic medicine.)

In which case, symptoms in the body translate into symbols, signals that something is wrong, missing, gone off, and please do something about it! Once we become acutely aware of the signals within our body, and what they mean, emotionally and spiritually, we no longer fear them, because we are in communication, our conscious with our unconscious minds. That unconscious (the body) is a storehouse, not just of our experiences, memories in this life, and past lives, but it is in communion with the unconscious of everyone, since we are all entangled in this beautiful biome called Earth.

One psychosomatic example: Someone close to me has longstanding heart issues (this is prior to the vax) . His genetics, on both sides, do not include heart as an issue. But: his life has included heartbreak, over and over again, by a wife who kept cheating on him then, each time, seem to agree to return. After awhile, as you can imagine, this drama took its toil inside his own body, specifically, his dear, big heart.

So, the North Node enters Taurus now, and will remain there until July 2023. During this precious time, we have an opportunity to listen to our bodies, to become sensitive to what they are continually telling us, with symptoms of many kinds, that alert us to when something is out of balance — not, or no longer, in harmony. Aided by our decision to also identify, acknowledge and honor old stuck emotions as they begin to move, to well up from the deep, the body/mind/soul then synchronizes into the symphony of voices arising from emotional, material, and mental realms.

And . . . drumroll . . . just as the north node enters Taurus,  volatile, unpredictable Uranus, which has been moving through Taurus since March, 2019, heralded by a volcanic eruption in Hawaii, turns, to go direct.  Turns tomorrow, January 18, to go direct. Always, the turning times are most intense. And that it turns now to go in forward motion tells us that whatever we have been working through in terms of the eruptive energy in our bodies, and in the collective unconscious of humanity, is now transitioning to a new phase.

So, we have . . .

Are we surprised? Well of course, that’s the nature of Uranus, to surprise, to shock! And yet, because we are aware that this particular week, the week of the Cancer Full Moon, the week when the North Node shifts into Taurus, we know that we must remain both aware of all the personal and collective unconscious forces seeking release, as well as centered, our own bodily antenna connected deeply within Mother Earth, and radiating the frequency of LOVE, Full Moon in Cancer Love, the nourishing Love that knows and feels we are all connected, all one human tribe.

One final note: this morning, when I asked our nearest neighbors if we (Green Acres Permaculture Village) could utilize the their now dormant back garden to grow our tomatoes and basil this year, I was surprised at their instant, eager agreement. “But we get some tomatoes too, right?” she asked. “Of course!” I replied. At which point he handed me a quart jar of his very very special, just made, Armenian borscht.

Notice the Full Moon chart again: communicative Mercury at 9° Aquarius, and sitting exactly on the Descendant of the coming Full Moon chart, is moving to exactly square Uranus at 10° Taurus. I surprised them with my question, they surprised me with their response, and this interchange suddenly opened an entirely new era in our Aquarian relations. YES!

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Given that the fear porn that drove the “pandemic” is now being exposed on many levels and by many sources as a tissue of lies, not to mention the many multiply-vaxxed folks that “get covid” or “adverse events” and are thus beginning to question the entire “narrative,” there’s a part of me that wonders whether Anthony Fauci is now being set up as the fall guy for what Paul Kingsnorth called, in yesterday’s post, “The Machine.”

 Watching Rand Paul go after him yesterday in yet another Senate confrontation, I once again decided to look at his astro chart, or at least what we know of it (birthtime unknown, so it’s set for 0° Aries).

https://annkreilkamp.net2021/10/06/astrology-of-anthony-fauci-plus-family-crest-and-lineage/

Reading that post through, I see that I fell for what especially Charles Eisenstein warned against in yesterday’s video: morphing into the mirror image of what I despise. My desire to see Fauci, not just jailed, but hung or otherwise exterminated, though understandable, given his 40 year career in directing and funding illnesses and drugs that kill, is not what would stop the monster. The monster is not Fauci, but The Machine itself, as Kingsnorth especially stressed in yesterday’s video. Fauci is but a useful tool, an oily, wily, and very effective “spokesperson” for this latest turn of The Machine’s screw to lock us all down and reconfigure us into transhumanist robots, mere “parts” in the coming global machine.

Farming

Fortunately, I don’t spend all my time pondering this paranoid? realistic? imagined future. No. Much of the time, I’m HERE, NOW on this good Earth, with others who also care for Her and seek to exchange nourishment with Her. And if my paranoid? realistic? thoughts go on and on, so do the daily, weekly, monthly tasks, the rituals that attend growing food in harmony with the land. And when I attend to these tasks, I come back home, where I belong.

This morning, our bi-weekly two-hour work party had the four of us who are currently present —Joseph in orange cap, Daniel, a new Green Acres Permaculture Village podmate (and seasoned permaculturist), Marita and I — engaged in the annual winter task of cleaning, sharpening, and oiling tools — but not until Marita had warmed up the greenhouse, several hours earlier. (Thank you Marita!) A FUN morning. And productive.

Next up: checking supplies for starting seeds, in time for the end of January, when we start tomatoes and peppers. Since we used so many beds last year for tomatoes (and they are heavy feeders, you don’t want to put them in same beds twice), I’m going to ask our next door neighbor if we can borrow their former, now unused, garden bed, in exchange for some of our produce. Given our wonderful gift exchanges over the years, I can’t imagine them saying no.

The Gift Economy (subject of the book, Sacred Economics, by Charles Eisenstein) is subtly flowing up up from below, practiced in traditional villages, in families (both blood related and of the heart), plus here and there in neighborhoods, small towns, tiny sections of cities, and within tiny intentional communities like ours. Like little lotus blossoms, we are together arising from the AI data-driven gunk of The Machine; and we are not just seeking, but putting into practice, what Eisenstein calls, rightly, The More Beautiful World Our Hearts Know Is Possible.  

The post FROM FAUCI TO FARMING, I reorient my (paranoid? realistic?) self to be HERE, and NOW. appeared first on A Conscious Journey Through End Times | Exopermaculture Legacy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c4-oyBnknHk&t=240s&ab_channel=Chevrolet

The post Best Christmas Present Ever? appeared first on A Conscious Journey Through End Times | Exopermaculture Legacy.

As usual, when the sun actually began to peek over the horizon, tears flooded my eyes.

So grateful for this life, this beauty, this love.

Always, the appropriate response to intense discord is a full heart expressing love . . . As here:

The post Winter Solstice Gratitude appeared first on A Conscious Journey Through End Times | Exopermaculture Legacy.

Indiana Will Be Home to Largest Solar Farm in the U.S. Covering 13000 Acres

And it made me wonder, why not stack functions, grow food under the solar panels? It’s happening elsewhere, and even has a name: AGRIVOLTAICS.

“Stack functions” is a permaculture principle referred to in my exopermaculture posts.

What is permaculture? PERMACULTURE IS RELATIONSHIPS. To one who practices permaculture, everything is related, above to below, inside to outside. This truth is in stark contrast to the disease of isolation/separation that, thanks to the scientistic “method” of analysis without synthesis, has thoroughly infiltrated our culture to the point where, as Mattias Desmet says, a hypnotic Covid spell has been successfully cast over billions of lonely, chronically anxious, disconnected souls by drumming out an endless blaring barage of fear, fear, F.E.A.R. (False Evidence Appearing Real) porn.

Permaculture. Permanent culture. Not the fake, incessant “progress” we were indoctrinated to aspire to, by lording over both nature and other human beings.

Permaculture. Permanent. Regenerative. The way nature herself works,  where “all waste is food.” Trees take in CO2 and breathe out O2. Animals (including humans) breathe in O2 and breathe out CO2. We need each other. Not just within species, but across species.

The patterns of lung and tree are essentially identical, and mirror, for example, the branching of a river. Nature’s designs are “fractal.” Nature knows what she’s doing.

In nature’s world, we need each other. We are inextricably connected to all embodied beings, on all levels.

Which is what Masanobu Fukuoko (born 1914) in Japan discovered, when he was 25, and decided to leave his career as a research scientist, return to his family farm, and learn from nature. The results are documented philosophically in his 1978 book “One Straw Revolution.”

A few quotes:

Permaculture takes advantage of nature’s ways to “stack functions” deliberately as in, for example, this Fruit Tree Guild.

Another example of stacking, this simple structure:

Last night, we at Green Acres Permaculture Village gathered for a short meeting, wherein I mentioned that we’re going to receive six visitors on Thursday, coming in sets of two, at different hours, from near and far away. They all want to know how we are doing it. How to live a connected life, not just with each other, but with the earth under our feet. Our tiny, suburban, retrofit, intergenerational template for a new, interconnected culture — “growing community from the ground up” — has been an object of contemplation by others all along — as a sort of curiosity. But:

Ever since the Covid Con cast its poisoned spell over the world, our way of living and thinking and learning has become more and more compelling to more and more people. At this point, I’d say we average at least three “tours” each month, as people, near and far, begin to realize that the only way we are going to “defeat” the “virus” is to re-member our everlasting interrelationship with both each other and the whole of embodied life.

Joseph, one of our young podmates, mentioned that he would like to see a Green Acres podcast. I suggested that he spearhead it. “Gladly” he replied. Another young podmate, Aya, loved the idea, and added that all her friends want to live like we do, that the millennial generation know that this is what is needed. GOOD!

P.S. Both of these young ones are new arrivals, within the past three months. May they, may we all, both near and far, live long and prosper!

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coreysdigs.com/solutions

Five Ways to Financial Security While Building Thriving Communities Outside the System

Reminder oh you other outsiders, LAF meditation tomorrow morning 8 am, your time — wherever you may be, there we are.  

Yesterday, a young male stranger from Louisville called me. He had seen Green Acres Permaculture Village listed on the ic.org. (Intentional Communities) website. We got to talking; I invited him to join our LAF meditations. He launched into a very strong statement:  “I TREASURE FEAR. BECAUSE FEAR SHOWS THAT AT LEAST THE PERSON FEELS SOMETHING. AND, ” HE ADDED, “IT’S A VERY SHORT STEP FROM FEAR TO LOVE.”

YES. Magnificent. Thank you Evan! Get Ready. Get Set. Let’s GO. Tomorrow morning, Sunday, 8 A.M.

The post NEXT STEP: We RECOGNIZE That We Are Building A Parallel Economy and Culture appeared first on A Conscious Journey Through End Times | Exopermaculture Legacy.

But then, there’s this:

In a civil war, the authoritarian left would be easily beaten; but it won’t end there

Here are five more posts which, as a set, demonstrate the evolutionary edge this Conniving Covid Crap is provoking.

Hmmm . . . How many companies are also having this particular difficulty because of Covid bullshit?

Companies are so desperate to fill jobs they’re getting rid of drug tests

Check out England. First six months after the vax:

Fact Check: 30,305 people did die within 21 days of having Covid-19 vaccine, says ONS: it’s simple math

Lots of sports figures are refusing the vax. Or, if consenting, with this recognition:

NBA star Andrew Wiggins on getting vaccinated: “I guess you don’t own your body”

Follow the money!

And of course, Famous Fraud-ci (who now has his very own movie out — gag) makes headlines again in one of his many appearances before the bought and paid for MSM. Question: who owns Fauci? Because you know very well that this highest paid official in the U.S. Gov is NOT singing his own tune. He’s just another, unusually narcissistic — loves the limelight and has proved his staying power — psychopathic puppet for the ones who remain hidden, in the shadows. Some even say aliens . . .

Fauci says people have to give up what you consider your individual right of making your own decision on vaccines

Yeah, and besides, once they use successive boosters to turn you into a transhuman nano-AI robot, you won’t need to make any decisions, because . . . no more free will. So come on folks, do it now, just give in!

And yet . . .

Was there ever anyone more fun to make fun of?

On balance, what impresses me is human resilience throughout this latest, and most difficult endurance test we’ve ever, ever, EVER! encountered. So magnificent, so magical, we human beings. I discovered this once again last night when son Colin and I attended an in-person meeting near Martinsville, Indiana with about two dozen other unmasked people, all there to support and participate in a regional meeting of COS (Convention of States). I had  been invited as a result of signing this petition at the local fair a few months ago.

Initially, I wanted to go just to see who the people are locally who would attend such a meeting. (In the same way I began to attend UFO conferences. Who ARE these people? My interests start out sociological, and then mutate into — what? true believer? NO. But expanded awareness? YES!)

One redneck had on a Defend the Police teeshirt.

And of course, none of them were from Bloomington, which the mostly rural folk in the room told me they refer to as “The People’s Republic of Bloomington.”

I must say, I was very impressed. Lots of energy, lots of stories, some of which I missed, since we were late, having gotten lost.

Which is a story in itself, to wit: The new highway construction was making it very difficult for us to figure out how to get to the meeting at a church to which we had never been, and son Colin forgot his phone, and my phone doesn’t have the usual capacity. So we asked a woman in Martinsville, and she tried to explain, but then just gave up, and said, “Follow me.” So we did, about five confusing miles. When we arrived, Colin told me to take out what was in a bag in the back seat and hand it to her. So I did: a little cake, and some fruit jam — both Amish made. She was thrilled, and her kids in the back seat had a terrific lesson in the gifting economy.

Okay back to the meeting. We did arrive in time to hear from two people who were recently fired from their jobs, both for refusal to take the vax. One of them is/was a pastor who had just preached about the Covid Con to his congregation — and was then let go.

My kind of people.

One woman especially, blew everybody away, with her utter determination and infectious enthusiasm for the task at hand. She’s been personally investigating voter fraud here in Indiana, and no surprise, is already finding the same patterns as shown in Maricopa County, Arizona. Here’s another petition website she has just started.

And believe you me, she — and we — will get results. This is We the People movement is spreading from state to state, as localities everywhere WAKE UP in time to defeat the globalist Great Reset.

Oh, and BTW: when you push the “donate” button on her new website, here’s what pops up. YES!

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