As I prepare for Thanksgiving dinner (here) with my two sons, grandkids podmates and friends, as I continue to move into realization the Baby Picture Project on December 4th and 5th, as I prepare to contribute stir-fried greens from the GANG garden for tonight’s regular Thursday Community Dinner at our Green Acres Ecopod —
— in short, as I go about my intricately connected regular life in this place with these beautiful people, animals and plants, the extremely serious global situation hangs over, brooding, malevolent. We do appear to be in the geopolitical End Game, the one that that began, on this continent, the very moment “pilgrims” landed on these shores and proceeded to relentlessly decimate its indigenous occupants.
In my conscious lifetime, is as if we are back in 1962, during the terrifying Cuban Missile Crisis, only this time terror is programmed by the MSM to be endless, and accelerating. Yet very very few people in this country (or even here, in lovely Bloomington, for that matter) appear to be consciously aware of how the eerie, disconcerting atmosphere of terror penetrates and disturbs every fiber of our beings.
But is that true? I ask myself? How many people do I actually talk to in person? Not many. Why would I want to. Why spoil ongoing life? And then, I tell myself, it’s best if we do go about our regular lives as if nothing ghastly, has happened, is happening, or will happen, here or elsewhere. Best to let that continuously “on alert,” and fraught exhaustion go while dreaming and activating an entirely new and transformed future with every heartbeat and breath, every footfall, every hug and handshake, every glance deep into the eyes of another suffering soul.
So do I vow.