After more than two years, WHY IS TRUMP STILL PRESIDENT, or even, STILL ALIVE?

I realize that there are many “narratives,” i.e., dot-connecting threads, that could be spun  to account for the fact that, after more than two years, despite massive opposition from moles inside, and open or secret foes outside, the White House, Congress, the Courts, the CIA, Justice Department, FBI, the entire Democratic party and all the RINOs, mainstream media, snooty liberal academics and others who see Trump as either an idiot and a fool or a power-mad emperor — President Donald J. Trump has still! not been either assassinated or impeached! Some think it divine intervention, and regularly invoke “God” to account for everything that happens here on Earth. Well, maybe, but as my son Colin once remarked, when he was only three years old: “There’s lottsa gods!” To me, invoking god, or “the deus ex machina,” is just like the ending to a well-made play: you can’t figure out how to make all the various dramas coalesce into a single, fabulous denouement, so you just invoke the bearded man in the sky, he who figures it all out. I.e., invoking “god” is just a way to pretend that you can’t figure it all out. And yes, most likely we can’t figure it all out, but this here is one of the best narrative attempts I’ve come across.

Shadow Warriors: How Trump’s Praetorian is Saving the Republic

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Left Brain/Right Brain = Whole Brain

I’m in the midst of cleaning up my desktop in prep for transferring all my files to a new MacBook Air computer. (This one, a MacBook Pro, is eight years old and running slower and slower, hotter and hotter.) The MacBook Air will enable easier travel.

There were two images on the desktop that I never got around to using, and so I will now!

I didn’t notice before that these images refer to left brain and right brain, and that no wonder our culture prefers the left brain, since pain and suffering require us to enter realms that feel darker and less “rational.” In fact, not at all rational! I can remember, at 39 years old, when I finally decided that I had to heal myself; I intuitively (right brain) recognized that in order to do so I would need  to remember, to re-member, to put myself back together again, from birth (or even conception!) on. With Alice Miller’s Drama of the Gifted Child and Jung’s Memories, Dreams and Reflections as my guides, I knew I would need to somehow feel my way back in memory, further and further, deeper and deeper, until I discovered the suppurating source of the original wound that had torqued me into switching from original whole brain (right and left) to left brain only. Because that’s what happened. That’s what happens to us all.

Let’s face it! The left brain is our computer brain; and just as a computer doesn’t feel pain, nor does this section of our minds.

Just as our culture is compartmentalized, so are we as individuals.

Given that most people are on screens just about 24/7 now, we could say that as a culture, we have “projected” our left brain out onto our devices, and then interact with them with our left brains as if they were our companions. But of course they are not. They are merely AI robots, only following what their algorithms tell them to do. There’s no creativity, no mystery, no breakthrough involved; just the mindless following through of bits and pieces according to rules based on assumptions built into programs.

I dare you to enter the mysterious and confusing realm of moving back through memory, to uncover your own original wound, that place inside yourself that is encrusted with pain, and sinks into the gloom whenever your awareness even dares to approach it! I dare you to  ask your higher self for help in both uncovering and exploring this wound, and then in healing from it. As we do this work, we also begin to heal the ancestral wounds that repeat themselves through the generations.

There is no greater, more noble, more sacred, work, than this, the healing of the Self, filling the hole in our being that was created by our refusal to recognize our full complex, contradictory, paradoxical, left brain/right brain natures. We fill the hole, in order to become whole.

That is the moment, the very moment, when we begin to actually live.

Imagine. Thousands, millions of us doing this. This most sacred work.

I’ve long looked at the immense power locked up in the nuclear bomb as symbolic of the immense power of the universe locked up inside each one of us. Imagine that bomb exploding! Imagine the explosion of creativity that would happen then!

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A.K. Reader repost: CENTERING, Beyond the Path of Polariy

Over the past three months, I have faced, embraced, and amazingly enough, erased, a serious, even catastrophic polarity that developed between our little Green Acres Permaculture Village and several departments within the city of Bloomington. While it is not time to speak about this matter, I can say that thanks to both my own training in centering (see below), plus both community and official support that came out of the woodwork when things got tough, and the transforming attitudes of certain employees within the city gov, we have all successfully dissolved this polarity. Life can begin again. And when did it dissolve? On Valentine’s Day!

As a person who is acutely aware of life in the In Between, as one who recognizes that we who experiment with new, regenerative forms of life inside the old decaying culture must continuously dance with the misunderstandings and confusions that arise to both fudge and frictionalize the edges between the new and the old, I feel immensely blessed that this serious matter did clear, beautifully, thanks to the efforts of so many involved.

In honor of this process, and of all the others that we humans create for ourselves to learn the lessons of 3D life, and especially, in honor of the enormous, seemingly impossible divides that now beset our body politic, I repost that old essay, from 1990, here.

CENTERING: Beyond the Path of Polarity

by Ann Kreilkamp

This essay was first published in Welcome to Planet Earth, Virgo edition, 1990.

Two weeks ago, I underwent a crisis in consciousness, one in which I feel I narrowly averted locking into an old, insidiously destructive path. This path is familiar, like an old friend. I know the path intimately, how it begins, how it proceeds. Indeed, the groove of this path is so well worn, that had I stepped onto it again, I would have found it exceedingly difficult to remove myself before repeating the entire painful cycle exactly, yet one more time.

Many of us are on this path. Those who learn it well win the prizes. This particular path is so inextricably intertwined with the subtle underlying texture of western culture, so much a part of the motivating force which fuels behavior, that it is difficult to imagine ourselves operating without it.

This same path pervades all of life, from sibling rivalry to the educational system to international politics. Though known by many names, and operating under many guises, the most common name for this path is “competition.”

We teach the path of competition from grammar school on, beginning with contests in spelling and other subjects, including sports. Here, though we give lip service to sportsmanship, fairness on the playing field, we all know what counts.
What counts is to win.

In international politics, the path is now becoming known–and, thank the Goddess, critiqued!–as the “zero-sum” game. Where if one wins, the other one loses–and then feels bad, wants to get even, fans the flames of war. In our worst case scenario, the specter of MAD, 50,000 (or is it now “only” 30,000?) nuclear warheads aimed at each other across the globe has made its absurdist point.
There is no “winning” a nuclear war.

Our growing understanding of the shadow side of competition in world military affairs has yet to filter down into daily life. The path of competition still prevails in just about every field of human activity in western culture.

Think of our legal system, for example. Again, a zero-sum game. The most profound and glaring example of competition however is the western economic system. Capitalism is our sacred cow; it elevates the path of individual competition to a high and increasingly ruthless art.

In my own experience, I think of graduate schools of philosophy, and other rarefied academic disciplines.
Here, competition is standardized as the path of argument. Seminar discussions, dissertations and colloquia are all contained within its well-known framework. The path of attack and counterattack. Or, if not proof of one’s own position, then at least disproof of the position of one’s opponent.

In academia, this path is not only taught, it is celebrated, justified as “objective,” “rational,” by those who like to think themselves objective and rational.

For those of us whose thinking is becoming more self-reflective or psychological, however, the same path could be called the path of “projection,” or “polarity.” It is a path we now wish to move beyond.

For this growing group of people, the phrase, “we create our own realities,” is the key which opens the door to the deeper meaning of our lives. We view experience symbolically, as the external expression–or projection–of inner beliefs and attitudes. We understand what happens on the outside at any one moment as the result, in the physical world, of the way we have previously imagined things to be.

We call this new–and most ancient–way of understanding the world “metaphysical,” i.e. beyond the physical. Abstract in conception, it is thoroughly practical in application. To begin to live metaphysically is to effect a radical reversal of the way we understand cause and effect. Rather than being victims of “what happens to us,” we are its creators.

One corollary to this reversal is the idea that we are collectively responsible for the state of the world now. That if we wish to change the world, then we must begin, each of us, by changing ourselves– the ways we think and see and do.

Another corollary is the idea that there is no such thing as objectivity, and therefore no rationality as previously conceived. Instead, all positions are seen as points of view relative to persons, not objective but subjective.

Once we reach this metaphysical understanding of the path of polarity, something happens to us. We can no longer identify with our particular points of view in quite the same manner. Our former passionate intensity in defending our positions against their opposites begins to fade…. But I get ahead of my story.

My own course down the path of polarity began in earnest when I was a graduate student, being coached by my mentor, a professor of philosophy. This man was Jewish, Israeli, intimate with the tragic history of persecution endured by his ancestors. He was deeply familiar with polarized situations, and given his pugnacious temperament, also quite accomplished at setting one up where it did not exist before.

Naturally, my mentor always occupied the minority position within any polarity, played the role of the persecuted one, victimized, and yet courageous in the face of overwhelming odds.

But it wasn’t just his temperament which led him into scrapes. It was also his unflinching need to see through to the heart of things. Both of these qualities in him fascinated me–initially terrifying me, then drawing me to him like a moth to the flame.

My mentor believed that, by and large, Truth is not valued by society, and that one who speaks truth automatically sets up a polarity against him or her, becomes like Cassandra, ostracized.

As a double Sagittarian, I had found my teacher. We both valued Truth, and he was to teach me how to both understand and work with the social consequences of telling it.

Quite naturally, my mentor taught me to play out the same role he did. Taught me that in order to speak the truth I must accept the personal attacks which, he assured me, were inevitable results.

The first years of my training involved learning how to think and speak clearly. He had no patience with fuzzy or muddled or superficial minds, and to the extent that I brought such a mind to him, he was ruthless in forging it into an engine which could both make exacting distinctions and yet see in far-reaching ways.

He taught me to question all my assumptions, question them down to bedrock–and beyond.

He taught me that, indeed there is no natural end to this process, that all our “rational” thinking processes rest on nothing, on empty space. A self-styled “skeptical” philosopher, he taught me to realize that intellectual certainty, my goal since childhood, was chimerical; that those who think they can reach it are fools.

And yet, when I had finally chewed and assimilated the consequences of his teaching to the bone, when I had begun to speak and act as if I had truly embodied his skeptical philosophy, he shouted at me, accusing, shocked at my audacity: “You are a relativist!”

“Thank you,” I bowed and replied.

My mentor thought that he was damning me with these words. Instead, I felt congratulated. To him, “relativism” meant “anything goes,” because nothing can be counted on. It is a view he thought, which justified any sort of behavior no matter how pernicious.

For me, to be a “relativist” is to recognize that there is no certainty in knowledge, just as my mentor taught me. Unlike him, however, I looked–and found–a basis for ethical action in another realm altogether, the realm reached through “centering.” But again, I get ahead of my story. . . .

Though my mentor understood that there was no way to rationally justify knowledge, his emotional response to the fact that I, his student had become a living example of his conclusion, showed me that he still needed to justify knowledge–not rationally, but emotionally. Underneath his own debunked intellectual need for certainty was the deeper, instinctive emotional need for security, safety.

He was able to shift intellectually, but not emotionally. He could not embrace with his whole being the idea that, in truth, there is no truth to stand on, that wherever we are, we are nowhere–and that even this truth cannot be proved!

Though this man could not personally take the final step which his own philosophy entailed, he did teach me much about the sociology of his fellow academic philosophers, how they too were afraid, even more afraid than he; and being less willing to admit it, they were more likely to hate the one who made them feel so afraid.

Thus the path of polarity–and persecution.

He taught me that the actual index to the value of what I was saying was a function of how strongly it shocked others, polarizing them into two camps, pro and con. He taught me to say what I had to say so clearly and so powerfully, that people would either love it or hate it, come down on one side or the other, either for or against.

At the time, this learning was exactly what I needed to break out of the paralysis induced by my upbringing. I had been reared to be a shy, sensitive and very good girl, one who didn’t make waves, who blended, as far as possible, into the prevailing winds. Now my mentor was teaching me to sail directly into the wind, to stand straight and tall in the face of hurricane forces.

In my birth chart, this entire situation, both during childhood and as a graduate student, is indicated by an unusually precise yod formation. First house Mercury/Venus in Capricorn inconjunct (150° from) both sixth house Saturn in Gemini and eighth house Pluto in Leo, the later two planets in (60°) sextile; all these aspects exact within one degree. In addition, Mercury and Saturn are in mutual reception (each in the other’s sign), co-dispositors of the entire chart.

As a child, I was serious and dutiful, my intelligence blocked. As a graduate student, this Saturnine influence mutated into the more Plutonian depth of approach, thanks to my mentor.

So, I was in good hands. Being taught by a Jew to remember my own persecution at the hands of others who wanted to shut me up. Being taught courage in the face of those who would have my head. Being taught to tell the truth anyway, no matter what the cost–and even though I couldn’t prove it.

That was 21 years ago. I honor this man for his profound teaching. Truly, he saved my life, he ignited the life that was in me, the Sagittarian fire, and guided me into the recognition that there is no end to the search for truth, that no matter how far I go, the journey is endless. Not only endless, but I have discovered along the way, joyful, creative, inspired. Or it can be. It is, if I stay clear of the well- known groove mentioned above.

During this year, transiting Uranus crosses my natal Venus/mercury, triggering the yod. Old patterns of thinking shatter. As they break down, light shines through the cracks. I begin to quicken with the joy of continuous discovery.

And now, as of two weeks ago, I realize for the first time in the origins of my own scapegoat mentality in the teachings of my mentor. I see now where it came from. Now that I see it, I can let it go. I want to learn to tell the truth in a way which does not invite attack, which is larger than this relatively narrow manner of communication.

Two weeks ago I almost started down that same old road again. In an essay I wrote, I first presented my own view, and then compared it and contrasted it with the view of another. I set up a polarity with him. It felt so natural to do it this way. So real. So definite and clear.

I was standing on one point, my “position,” and looking across to another point, finger cocked like a child using her hand to mimic a pointing gun.

Luckily, with crucial help from a dear, dear friend, I caught myself in time to not make enemies. To not get caught up once again in that polarized place, that limited space where I distract myself from presenting what I see. Instead of allowing my imagination to proceed further, I have gotten caught up along the way with defending my position in the face of real or imagined attack.

Psychologically, the mechanism seems to be the following: When I begin to attempt to describe the further reaches of what I see, at some point I grow afraid. Like my mentor, at some level I too still fear infinity, endlessness, continuously opening space.

In response to fear, my mind contracts, to a level at which it feels secure. First, I posit a point in space where I “take my stand.” From here, I look out and create (project) another point, at a certain near or far distance from the one upon which I am standing. And I then say this is not that. This point is not that point. I define myself through what I am not. I am not like him. He becomes my “opposite.” I become not only intellectually, but emotionally involved in seeing myself “win” over him. One more zero-sum game.

This time, immediately prior to the whole sorry cycle beginning again, I caught myself preparing to do it a and recognized where it would inevitably lead.

I create my own reality. In order to change that reality, I must first change my mind, by enlarging my vision. I want to begin to see the epistemological mechanism of projection and its hostile repercussions in behavior from a more mathematical or visual point of view.

Thinking visually, I can view my “opponent” as merely the other end point of a line which I have just created through positing a point across from my own.

This line, in turn, can be visualized as the diameter of a circle, the size of which is determined by the length of the line, by how near or far away I originally posited my “opponent” to be.

I have created a circle around myself, where formerly there was open space. I have created a circle and I am caught inside–without realizing it.

Whereas before I was afraid of openness, so now I am afraid of its opposite–claustrophobia! I seek a way out, want to break out, to punch my way through by destroying the point opposite to the one upon which I think I am standing.

In reality, I am no longer standing upon this point, which is now a point upon the circumference of the circle. Somehow, I have jumped to a point exactly halfway to the other side. I am standing in the middle of the circle now. I must be. Otherwise I wouldn’t feel so enclosed, so surrounded, on all sides by potential enemies. . . .

So, resolution to this self-created conflict is first to visualize the initial polarity mathematically, as a line, which in turn becomes the diameter of a circle. The next step is to consciously realize that I have placed myself “squarely” in the center of that line, that circle.

As long as I stand in the center of the circle without awareness of being there, I feel surrounded, enclosed, claustrophobic, even paranoid. Once I recognize that I am standing precisely there, and that this circle is one which I have created through the psychological mechanism of projection, my experience of the circle changes utterly.

Now I feel myself in the center, equidistant from all points on the circumference of this particular circle I have created to “orient” myself.

As the goal, in childhood, was intellectual certainty and emotional security, so now the goal of both head and heart is centering. As I center myself in the precise center of my experience I find I am standing upon the very ground I was seeking all along.

Standing in the center, I sense the circumference of the circle I have created as a membrane, rather than a wall. It breathes, it moves, vibrating in resonance to the beat of my heart. Rather than being something I must break through to once again express my freedom, I can now rest within the circle, as one more form through which I both orient myself and direct energy.

For I sense my capacity to create an infinite number of concentric circles, both larger and smaller than this one. The circles radiate in all directions. The circles are frameworks or structures, paradigms within which I “make sense” of perception.

Each of these circles can be visualized as a globe or sphere or dimension of awareness. Each one contains an infinity of points, both upon its outer and inner skins, and within the space which it encloses. Even in a limited space there are no limits. Between any two points, there is always a third.

In order to bypass my old habit of limiting my perception by tying it down to work as merely one end point of a polarized point of view, I recognize myself as the center of a continuously expanding universe. This is the lesson, the message, of the entire generation into which I was born: Pluto in Leo.

Each of us, as unique and singular individuals, stands centered, radiating outwards from the center of a universe which has no outer limits, no circumference. Each of us as the eye of our own storm, the stillpoint of our own turning world. We are creative agents, attuning ourselves to and expressing ourselves through larger and larger spheres of awareness–forever.

We are all creators. We all breathe the same air. Our hearts beat to a universal biological rhythm, a rhythm entrained with other more subtle rhythms, all of them in concert as the universal harmony, the music of the spheres, the song of ourselves. We are one. We are many. We are the one in the many. All polarities dissolve in the swelling sea of infinite space.


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Green New Deal spurs conversion to Permaculture?

Well, of course, it doesn’t say that. In fact, I doubt those who are arguing for the GND have ever heard of permaculture. Nor, if Mike Adams is right, have they really understood the implications of the GND for our eating habits in the U.S.A. And by that, I’m not just talking about all the soft drinks that seem to line every supermarket basket hauled by obese folks looking for their next sugar or fake sugar fix (this image is fresh in mind, having just gotten some organic veggies from a local supermarket and followed an obese couple’s basket loaded with soft drinks and processed “food” through the line); I’m also talking about the way food — both organic and poisoned — is hauled across the country in big trucks. In fact, it’s that fact, the way food production and distribution works here in the U.S., that first put me on the track towards permaculture, having watched the movie, The Power of Community: How Cuba Survived Peak Oil  in 1991, when the trucks and tractors and cars all stopped moving due to the oil tankers from the former Soviet Union no longer reaching that island.

That was in 2003. I started to look around, and realized what Mike Adams outlines  in his fear-mongering post:

ANALYSIS: How AOC’s Green New Deal would unleash a catastrophic food collapse and Venezuela-style mass starvation across America

He’s right. Everything depends on cheap fossil fuels. At least now it does, and for the foreseeable future. Mike has great fun talking about how many solar panels it would take to power one of the giant tractors currently used by Big Ag. Those panels would take 70 square feet, and tip the whole contraption over  in the slightest wind.

But Mike doesn’t know about permaculture either, apparently. He just makes fun of the GND without offering the obvious alternative: scale down Big Ag to small farms, in fact to tiny, intensively cultivated plots, the kind of farming I remember seeing from my train window in Thailand six years ago. The kind that used to percolate throughout this country. Mom and Pop farms.

But then, how do we scale down? Confiscate the land now owned by Big Ag? Have Big Socialist/Communist Government move in and just take the land over? I imagine that AOC, if she knew about permaculture, would salivate over this idea, say say yes, that’s what to do! After all, that’s what Communist China did, remember? And confiscated people from their usual occupations — academic, medical, artistic, and so on — as laborers for big collective communist farms. How well did that work out, eh?

I think not. Instead, what we need is real life education, at all levels, starting with little kids, and we need many more small experimental templates for how we could be doing things differently, if we scale down to our own localities. Many more places like Green Acres Village, for example, which practices both social and land-based permaculture; we need much more support for farmers markets, CSAs, urban farms, back and front and side yard gardening. Food stands on every block. Zoning changes to encourage these transformations. And especially, we need to both change our food habits, to focus on what’s fresh and local, and learn how to live together again, rather than so separately. Cooperatively, rather than in competition. And to do this voluntarily. Get to know our neighbors! Start cultivating the land between our houses together. Start seeing green lawns as poisoned wastelands, ripe for planting! Start eating together once in a while — without cell phones! Real food, food that we grow. On and on. There’s so much ferment in the air right now, and it’s high time we started to act on our desires for local autonomy, local authority, local sovereignty.

I write this on Valentine’s Day. Happy Valentine’s Day! And you know? The strangest thing happened to me last night: A dream, of a man, grey haired, wrinkled, average stature, and with a calm, wise, precise nature that is thoroughly compatible with my adventurous spirit; in fact, he knows me, and I know him! How? I can see and feel him dear and clear as day, even now. And yet I have never met this man in waking life. So Happy Valentine’s Day to me! For, like all of us, I inhabit many realms, one of them in the dreamtime, where my Valentine appeared!

But I digress. What I really wanted to mention was the fact that Chiron, the wounded healer, after a long sojourn through soft, dreamy Pisces — that began in February 2011 and offered either compassion or escapism and distraction as the antidote to the rough and tumble of the Uranus/Pluto square that dominated this era — will now cross into action-oriented, wham-bang Aries, on February 18, to remain there until April 2027. That’s over eight years!

During these eight years, Pluto will move back and forth over its own natal place in the U.S.A. chart for the very first time, so you know damn well that we’re going to have to learn how to work with Power in a whole new way. Rather than lording it over others, the swaggering, forever adolescent hegemon, I suggest we recognize the immense power buried in the land, and buried in our own bodies’ connection to the land. Pluto rules the primal life force that powers both, and with Uranus about to move into earthy Taurus in early March for seven years, this human connection to Mother Earth herself will become more and more blatant, especially as Earth begins to move and sway and erupt with her bottom up Uranian power that can also move through us. Bottom up power of and through We the People. We are the ones we have been waiting for.

Okay, now that we see the larger picture, with the new Uranus sojourn in Taurus coupled with Pluto about to engage in a process of conjuncting the U.S.A. natal Pluto for the very first time, let’s go back to Chiron.

Remember, Chiron’s cycle is slightly over 51 years. So if you haven’t lived that long, then you have no idea what Chiron is about. However, if you have lived that long and longer, then try to remember back to that time: what wound that had been festering for years — maybe even since you were a kid! — actually began to heal then? Not because you did anything drastic about it, though you might have, but because you began to see it differently, feel it differently; even, to take responsibility for your part in whatever went “off” so long ago,  and with that enlarged understanding, slowly began to heal.

Chiron’s move into Aries will feel subtle at first. You might not even notice it, except perhaps, as an increasing willingness to take chances, to risk your reputation and your money, your stuff; to get going, off the couch, sipping your last Coke or Diet Coke and switching to something less sweet, more nutrient rich. (You might look into Cho-Wa! I’ve let go of coffee entirely due to this amazing beverage.)

What is yours to do? To start? To experiment with? What do you want to accomplish before you die? Do that, start that, now. And hopefully, many of us will start both changing our diets (i.e., taking charge of our health!) and growing our own food, and especially in community with others nearby. Now that would be the real green new deal.


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“Our” Military Intelligence Complex: Can it be transformed, repurposed? And, if so, what are the implications?

On the one hand, I’m thrilled to come across the title of such a post as this one —

Rethinking America’s Military Industrial Complex

— and in fact, began to read it eagerly, thinking maybe the author had some new ideas as to what “our” vast bloated military machine could be transformed into, now that wars have been  exposed as a racket, always instigated with some kind of false flag to deceive the public, and bankster financed on both sides, with huge profits to weapons manufacturers.

And oh wow! I think. Maybe the transformation is already happening! Look at the Qanon phenomenon, that amazing alternative communication channel which began only 15 months ago. Growing in popularity and sweeping across the whole world, Qanon is rumored to be a swamp-draining operation of military intelligence! Wow, So yeah! Maybe swamp draining is an example of what the military could and is already being repurposed into! Given the depth and complexity of what we have now learned to call “the deep state,” to dismantle and dissolve it is certainly the kind of  job that requires vast resources and planning.

But unfortunately the above post itself did nothing to whet my appetite. Instead, it set the table, and then stopped before dinner was served. Huh? Indeed that post felt positively snarky, rather than educational.

Through the years I’ve always been alert to various small ways that aspects of the military are and can be repurposed. For example, I remember when they started to convert old nuclear missile silos. From 2010:

Seven Repurposed Cold War Missile Silos

Here are more examples of this kind of thinking, repurposing military structures:

People who used to be in the military are also putting their military training to use in various ways that heal rather than hurt. Examples:

These Veterans Are Fighting A New War, This Time Against Attacks on South Florida’s Coral Reefs


Shane Claiborne and Activists Turned Guns into Gardening Tools to Show What Beating Swords into Plowshares Looks Like

Even better, check this out: veterans healing from PTSD by learning how to garden:

Milwaukee Program Uses Urban Agriculture to Help Veterans Heal

But these programs, while of great value, simply nibble around the edges of what’s necessary if we wish to truly transform the military machine. So . . . how about this?

From 2013:

Repurposing the Military Machine

Hard to believe that it’s already six years since that article was posted. And the repurposing spoken of there, using the military to address the destructive effects of climate change, is what I would call the best and most obvious re-purposing of such a vast bureaucratic machine that has been devoted to destruction, and could be transformed into protection and regeneration. Whether you beLIEve in global warming or global cooling doesn’t matter. What matters is the recognition that things are going mighty wacky on our beautiful Mother Earth, and that human industry is in part responsible for it.

What gives me pause here, of course, is that I can just see this kind of repurposing fitting right into a New World Order Globalism mandate, centrally controlled, and demanding obedience from its minions. Just like the military now!

Okay, look again. It turns out we don’t even need the military to shift our way of life on this planet. We the People can do it ourselves, as has been happening in China and India over the last 20 years. Check it out:

NASA Happily Reports the Earth is Greener, With More Trees Than 20 Years Ago–and It’s Thanks to China, India

To me, the question is: can we, as human beings, learn to take care of our own localities, starting with the interior of ourselves, and reaching out from there to our households, back yards, neighborhoods, towns, cities, regions, etc. Bottom up transformation? But isn’t this absolutely opposite to the way the military works? Yes, it is. Once again, the key is to embrace paradox, and occupy the space between the opposites. Of course we can use centralized planning that the military is so very good at; and of course we all need to get off our buts and take charge of healing our own localities.

Another way to think of this necessity for paradoxical thinking. How many of us have learned, over the years, that life is bittersweet? That we have to take the salt with the sugar? It’s NEVER, EVER one or the other. In fact, without the one, we wouldn’t even recognize the other!

It’s always both. And that goes for inside me, too. There are, as the Native Americans say, two wolves inside each of us. Which one wins depends on which one I feed. And yet, I need to feed them both, simultaneously, at least enough to keep remembering that I, too, am always subject to temptation, and that I sometimes stray from the shining path. For without humility, I am lost.

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“CRONECAST”: Here I go!

Well, not yet, but soon. Housemate Dan gave me the title, a play on “podcast,” but this new venture will be not just audio, since my son Colin, with whom I had dinner last night, insists that the audience must see me as well as hear my voice, when I tell my stories. (It’s true, I do tend to get animated.)

Ever since I hit crone age — just when is that, pray tell? It’s a matter of dispute, and of course I shall go into this subject thoroughly, at some point — I’ve been telling stories. In fact, actually, I’ve been telling stories since way before that, and have known for decades that storytelling is perhaps the most crucial human activity that knits us together.

Imagine, in all the tipis, yurts, igloos, and longhouses of old, how very long the winters were without electricity. Imagine how folks would sit around in the dark, stirring the fire, telling and listening to stories, making and keeping the oral history of their peoples alive and growing. And who did they call on most for stories? Why their elders, of course, those who had lived the longest. For these were the ones who carried the history within their long memories. So too, here in Green Acres Permaculture Village. Who has been here the longest? Me. So I’m the defacto her-storian of the place. It’s a big job, to remember, to re-member, to continuously knit ourselves back together again through time and space.

And what do we need most now, at this fractured, acceleratingly centrifugally spiraling moment in the his-story of our species? We need the exact opposite: to knit ourselves back together again, to instigate centripedal spiraling as a counter to its polar opposite. Not to replace it, but to balance it. Again, let me repeat what I say a hell of a lot: we need to learn how to recognize the value and necessity of embracing paradox, opposing points of view, and furthermore: let us learn to consciously inhabit the mysterious space between them, dynamically balancing and rebalancing the two poles of any recognized polarity as we go forward.

Opposites exist within each of us, too, and usually the (ignored or denied or hated) end of any polarity gets projected out, onto others. And thus the drama begins!

The completion of any story is the recognition of and learning how to “take back the projection.” To integrate, this time consciously, the vibrant dynamic of opposites within the self! And it’s the responsibility of the tribal storyteller to bring this drama of opposites to life. It’s the responsibility of the elders to show how — through tales of real life experiences, gathered and interpreted over time, initiating larger and larger meaning — the various cycles of our lives live on inside us as larger and larger concentric circles, as wholes. This is what counts. This is what is missing.

We are so bent on gathering, making sense of, and sharing knowledge, that we have completely forgotten about, or even dismissed the value and necessity of its opposite: wisdom.

Knowledge is left-brained, the bits and pieces that we pick up along the way, and attempt to relate into ordered, logical sets.

Wisdom is right-brained; it occupies the interstices of the lines we draw, the patterns we weave, and it holds them all as blessing, in gratitude.

As my husband Jeff said, soon before he died of a heart attack, at the age of 55: “I really like getting older, because there’s so much more to think about!”

Exactly! And this famously encyclopedic man didn’t mean knowledge, facts, here; he meant experiences, the choices he had made throughout his lifetime, and how they formed and kept on reforming him. At this point, I’m 26 years older than Jeff! You can imagine how “much more to think about” I’ve accumulated since he died and left me both bereft and enthralled. See my book, THIS VAST BEING: A Voyage of Grief and Exaltation.

And let me tell you, while wisdom may primarily be the province of the old, it is not automatic. Most people, as they age, do not become crones, or elders. Most just calcify, get rigid, habit-bound, less and less curious, and yet, like everybody else in this culture, cling to “life” and utterly terrified of death.

I aim to remain flexible, to keep taking risks, to love life ever more extravagantly, and to share what I am finding and ruminating upon with others as I stride happily towards that death that I sense, given my near-death experiences, and my life with the spirit of Jeff since he died, is indeed another birth. And I aim to do all this with you. Weekly CroneCasts will be my latest offering. Each of an indeterminate length, depending on the story to be told. Some stories require  backstories — actually they all do: but we always have to stop somewhere in our endless search for a deeper beginning, a deeper meaning.

I’ve ordered a suitable microphone. Colin and I will pick out a new tapestry of some kind to cover my overflowing closet backdrop for the visual.

The first CroneCast will tell the story of my relationship with the archetype of the Crone which began, actually, in childhood, and then of course, ramped up over time.

After that, I’m going to tell the stories of my four marriages, each one very different from the other, and all of them incredibly valuable along my own evolutionary journey.

Son Colin tells me I need to tell the story of separation from my sons, and then bring him on next time to talk about it. YES!

Thus some CroneCasts will be devoted to Croneversations with others, as well.

One thing I’m NOT going to do is focus on current events. I appreciate especially all the young independent journalists — like Jordan Sather, X22report, Amazing Polly, SGT Report, Liz Crokin, Coreysdigs,, and many others who do this fact gathering and interpreting business in such a powerful way. YES! Hats off to the young ones and how they are helping us make sense of these chaotic times.

I plan to start a youtube channel for the CroneCasts, and here’s a preliminary version of what it will officially be About:

We’re so focused on increasing knowledge, but whatever happened to wisdom?

When people meet me for the first time, and politely ask, “How are you?” I answer them: “What level do you want to talk on?” I am a Ph.D. philosopher from Boston University who was fired from her first job as “too experimental” for an experimental California college in 1973. Since then I have worked as a consulting astrologer and published Crone Chronicles: A Journal of Conscious Aging (1989-2001). In 2009, I initiated an experiment that has evolved into an intentional community, Green Acres Permaculture Village, in Bloomington, Indiana, and I blog daily on

This 76-year-old crone WOKE UP when she was 26 years old and here shares stories from her own life, and the ever deepening meaning she gleans from them.

What actually got me going on this new venture was that three people commented (see comments), asking me to do so! Not that I hadn’t been thinking of it as a possibility; but I  need a nudge. I start new ventures in response to an invitation. That’s the best way for me, according to my Human Design, as a “Manifesting Generator.” I used to try to start things “out of the blue,” but found that these ventures did not succeed. Those begun out of a felt need from others, do.

And what really put the icing on the cronecast cake was when Dan said, to my question, what shall I call it, and I want the word Crone in it, with another word that starts with “C.”

CRONECAST! That response flew out of his mouth without him thinking about it. In fact, he looked sort of sheepish afterwards, as if “really?” Did I really say that?

I did an astro chart for the moment when I decided YES, I will call it CRONE CAST. The chart put powerful Pluto on the Midheaven path opposite my natal Jupiter in at 23° Cancer, and inaugurated a steady Taurus Ascendant conjunct the Moon. Taurus governs the throat, the voice! My own natal Moon is in Taurus.

Furthermore, transit Jupiter, at 19° Sagittarius, sits only two degrees from my natal Sagittarian Ascendant/Sun combination, and will soon be passing over them. So I’ve known for awhile now that I would push in some new direction soon.


Lots of other astrological synchronicities as well. Maybe I’ll go into them later. In any case. It’s a done deal. Just the technical details need to be worked out, and we’re good to go.

The reason I’m announcing it here, beforehand, is because I would like to invite any reader who cares to comment on this matter in any way, to do so. (For example: should I call it CRONE CAST, CRONECAST, CroneCast or Cronecast? Whaddya think?) Would love any further feedback. Already you have nudged me into action. Thank you!




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Compendium: the Bad, the Ugly, the possible Good (and the SPACE in between)

Once in a while I go through my ipad notes from recent internet surfing and decide to put up a whole bunch of stuff at once. This is one of those times. Here goes:

Have you noticed all the new postings in the alt-media on clerical pedophilia? For example, in the Catholic church, priests abusing nuns.

Sexual Abuse of Nuns: Longstanding Church Scandal Emerges from Shadows

Fireman, turned Christian Prophet (he predicted Trump would some day be president in 2011) Mark Taylor thinks at some point the Pope will be “going down.” More: “This is not against Catholics. This is going to affect all religions. The Catholics are going to look at this, and are going to be disgusted. . . . The pedophilia thing is a global thing. I quote Liz Crokin all the time. She has never ever been challenged on a story. . . There’s a lot going on globally right now, and its not coming out in the media. . . Obama, Clinton . . . these people are going to prison.”

Then there’s the horrific scandal that has enveloped Planned Parenthood around pay for play (millions given to the DNC, and then millions of taxpayer dollars funneled back into PP), plus sale of fetal tissue and body parts. Along with that, there’s the news of full term abortion (infanticide), the latest Democratic outrage. Hmmm . . . if the southern border gets walled, then fewer babies can be kidnapped across and sold for body parts, satanic sacrifices, and adrenochrome? Is that why the Democrats are so outraged by the wall? And is that why the sudden upsurge of laws making full term abortion legal?

The Socialist vs. Capitalist either/or dichotomy is in full display, with literally no one that I can see wondering if there’s a way to combine the best of both and eliminate the worst of both.

Because, let’s face it, we are not taught to think in terms of expanding perspectives, of occupying the mysterious space between any set of polarities, of weighing, balancing, both/and thinking. Everything is either seen as either or, good or bad, yes or no, true or false — or in computer language, 0 or 1, off/on: AI.

Meanwhile, we are propagandized to divide, not just our logical minds into tinier and tinier bits and pieces, but socially too, into smaller and smaller, tighter and tighter little groups of special (superior) “identities;” then so-called “identity politics” teaches us to hate everybody outside that group as “politically incorrect.”

Example: What is it now, 57 different genders? Give me a break! And I suppose those genders are “scientifically” determined? Hmmm. Because . . .

Most Scientific Research of Western Medicine Untrustable and Fraudulent, Say Insiders and experts


Remember me saying I wish DJT could walk barefoot in the forest on mushrooms? Well, maybe he could do it near Denver?

For the first time, U.S. City Will Vote on Decriminalizing Psychedelic Mushrooms

Oh wow, I took that story from an alt-media source, but guess what: google it! NBC, the NYT, Fox News all reported it as well.

Come on DJT, I know you don’t drink or smoke, and for that I laud you. How many of us can say the same? But do try magic mushrooms, just once. Okay? And do take your shoes off and let your big beautiful healthy body walk barefoot, in the Colorado mountain forests. Okay? Please? Oh, I know you think that if you even took a single alcoholic drink you’d be “the world’s worst,” but maybe if you took a single barefoot forest walk on mushrooms you’d be “the world’s best”!  How about it? I dare you. Just once. See what happens! I have a feeling your highly intuitive stable genius mind would just explode with ideas. And that those ideas would include our loving Mother Earth as a precious member of your expanding family.

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Permaculture Co-Founder Bill Mollison On-Line Video Series

One of my permaculture teachers, Keith Johnson, refers us to this freely available video series.  Especially good if you wonder what to begin to teach yourself next! For there’s going to be plenty to do in this suffering world we all know we must transform in order to head towards resiliency. Ergo: Find your passion. Do that!

Perhaps it’s permaculture. And after all, once we see through the sterile, mechanistic, hierarchical, bullshit scrim that pretends to describe/model/explain/predict our beautiful, mysterious, magical, alive and conscious Mother Earth in her cosmic home, then what ISN’T permaculture?

Check this 16-part series out. And thanks, Keith!



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