Thursday, December 15th, late morning. Last night at 2 am, I woke up and once again, turned on my iphone to get the time and compulsively clicked on steve beckow’s site. There I came upon the audio, made a few hours previous, of Kerry Cassidy’s latest interview of David Wilcock sobbing as he tells of two insiders telling him of serious death threats against him because of the post he just put up on divinecosmos.com. Of course I had to listen, right then, for two hours, as my puppy Shadow and kitty Paoli chased each other around the bed.
Do pay attention to both the above links. They are guaranteed to decimate whatever your current framework for catching and holding swiftly flowing “reality” . . .
Unless, of course, your framework has already been decimated by the still-simmering, muted news that America is, right now, seamlessly turning into a police state. In which case, the David Wilcock info, and, BTW, even more chilling info from an anonymous insider on the same audio, will further scramble your brain into a squishy neuronic omelet.
So then, this morning, after walking with my puppy through a windy morning with dark, scudding clouds,
I decided to call the White House: 202-456-1111.
“You will experience violence while waiting. Your call is important to the president. Thank you for waiting.” Oops. That’s not “violence,” that’s “silence.” Why would my ears hear violence?
Why would I feel like I, and everyone else in the U.S., have now joined the rest of the world in being ruthlessly, if still painlessly, crushed by the slow, grinding gears of the military/industrial/pharmaceutical/academic corporatist complex that has stolen our government and, until this very year, with first, the Arab Spring, then Europe, then Wisconsin, and finally the Occupy movement, narcoticized our minds and hearts and souls?
Why? Consider the following developments of the past few months:
• Over 600 (?) FEMA concentration camps activating, and advertising for workers.
• Increasing militarization of U.S. police forces, both tactics and gear.
• Consistent, and seemingly coordinated police brutalization applied to OWS protestors.
• The annual, enormously bloated National Defense Authorization Act sailing through both Congress and Senate with hardly a whimper of protest from the assembled, usually gridlocked, lawmakers, many (most?) of whom are have been corrupted by their need to win at any cost, and the cost is to be in bed with the military/industrial/pharmaceutical/academic corporatist complex.
And so we come to today, with the NDAA heading for the president’s desk, and, with section 1031 (or was it 1032, it’s deliberately(?) confusing), his apparent willingness to codify into law for everyone, anywhere on earth, the same treatment that continues to crush Bradley Manning, hundreds of Guantanamo prisoners, and who knows how many thousands (millions?) scattered in secret detention camps across the globe.
As I sit here, waiting for the White House to take my cell phone call, the house phone rings. “Hello, is this Ann Kreilkamp? I am calling from the Committee to Re-Elect President Obama.” Something like that. Deep, twisted, irony. I gave her the same piece of my mind that I ripped off and shoved at the White House operator, when I finally got through.
As I write this, the sky darkens further. And yet, and yet. Last night I went down to the Occupy Bloomington encampment again, and discovered that they are going to have to move their “winter tent” ten feet to the east, so that it won’t be so close to the building next door. Good. Just that. The Fire Department warning did not result in dismantling the encampment.
The winter tent is probably 50 feet long, U.S. Army. Has two tall heaters in it. Quite comfortable, despite the cold. Here’s the entrance, with prayer flags and a small child.
And here’s a few more photos from two weeks or so ago, when I attended their two-month anniversary event. Every time I go to Occupy Bloomington’s camp in People’s Park downtown, I have to re-orient myself, as they keep getting new, roomier, public tents and rearranging the tiny space. Reminds me of my Mom, when we’d come home from school, to find the living room furniture rearranged.
Both these photos were taken during the time a local church was cooking up and handing out vegie burgers to all and sundry.
Last night, when I asked, they said the food hasn’t been coming quite as regularly as before. And their stove may have to go (fire hazard). Damn!
Here’s the stove.
After hanging out there for awhile, I went out to eat a naked burrito and try out a book that I picked up at the library, thanks to a friend and commentator on this site, Rob A. Thanks, Rob! So rare, to come across a philosopher whose abstract metaphysical “frame” is akin to my own. Charles Fort (1874-1932), who, it seems, does a great job combining the two Greek masters, Parmenides (being is all there is) and Heracllitus (everything is in a state of becoming).
At first, the title to the book put me off. But then, I saw that by “The Book of the Damned” he means “a procession of data that Science has excluded.” I started reading.
“But by the excluded, I mean that which will some day be the excluding.
Or everything that is, won’t be—”
“It is our expression that the flux between that which isn’t and that which won’t be, or the state that is commonly and absurdly called “existence,” is a rhythm of heavens and hells: that the damned won’t stay damned; that salvation only precedes perdition.”
And sometimes, like now, heaven and hell seem to be both present, and pressing. Hell, in the lock-down controls being attempted by the PTB; heaven, in the life springing up from within the cracks of the onrushing police state.
On my walk this morning, once in a while the scudding clouds would open, to reveal the blue sky.
And I was reminded of the Buddhist understanding of life here on earth, with all human creations as effervescent and ephemeral as clouds. Even the police state obeys the law of change. And, when I project myself high, high above, I enter the wild blue yonder and observe, with great kindness and compassion, the clouds scudding over us here below, obscuring, but briefly, the golden light of universal awareness.