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.