I need to take a break from dredging up all of those old, sad, memories, and move on to new, sad, current events. Not that I didn’t have a great amount of fun and pleasure in those years of my youth, but I have only touched on those occasions so far, and believe it might be time to write a bit about my current life, since I find the person I was once is now a complete stranger to me. I mean, I understand her, but I wouldn’t want her as a companion today; way too much ignorance and misdirected focus. I don’t know if I’d be able to take on the challenge of my former self today, if she were a person in my life.
Yesterday I was sitting outside during my lunch break at work. I watched a beautiful young crane circle the pond and land on the bank. So gorgeous; his wingspan even at his age, magnificent. The building that I work in is part of a large complex, very near Oracle’s cathedral-like campus, that stands in monolithic glory for all passers-by to marvel at. My “campus” has the same type of man-made landscaping in the center of the buildings; huge mossy standing and fallen stones in an attempt to replicate some neolithic scene, a huge labyrinth for those who want to walk the stylized spiral in contemplation, and large river-stone lined ponds, with dancing waterspouts.
Ducks live here year-round. I have watched several years of broods arrive, tiny little chirping chicks racing after their mothers. Usually the numbers dwindle as the days go by. I’ve seen a mother duck with 11 hatchlings one day, 8 the next, all the way down to one, and then none. From joy to despair, wondering what happened. However, other years, my co-workers and I have watch the little bits of fluff grow into adults, to come back the next year to brood. How miraculous the cycle of Nature is! Those are good years.
The Canadian geese come seasonally. The ones who try to stick around off-season are run off daily, by men with dogs, hired by building management to keep their well-manicured lawns and walkways from being “fouled” with goose excrement. And, oh! people’s cars! How dare these nasty creatures do their natural business along the Great Pacific Flyway, which they’ve done since before man discovered fire?
It’s hard sometimes to enjoy the view, when I know what goes down regularly, and even though the scene seems so pastoral and gentle, the birds are trained to stay on alert and sound the alarm when the dogs in red jackets come trotting around the building. I have an antagonistic relationship with the “dog man.” I scowl and cluck at him, and he tries to explain that he’s just “doing his job.” That’s why the world is so fucked up, you know – because people want that paycheck, and don’t question what good or harm they do to earn it. There’s not much integrity left to speak of, it seems to me.
Just to be clear, when I look at an animal, I see a soul, as valid and precious as any human. This is the planet I’ve landed on after all of my experiences, the culmination of all of my trials and joys since birth. This is where we go back to Grandma Eleanor, who opened my eyes to the glory of the natural world – the truly natural, not manufactured, beauty and sanctity of all life. I held on to her teachings, in the recesses of my psyche, knowing over the years that there was more to it than just basic respect or selective compassion, something just out of reach, that I had to do in order to cross over a hidden line onto the path I wanted to travel. But I had to be ripe to really receive the message, and now I believe I have reached that evolutionary path. I ain’t perfect, and never will be – but I’m getting close to undoing all of the human crap that separated me from the real meaning of life, which is an integration with the natural world, not unlike a Shaman, who can blend in and out of the trees unseen and without disturbing wildlife – because he/she is one of them.
This morning was a lesson in panic. How to dodge cute little fluffy kamikaze bunnies all the way down the Skyline Ridge, which is a stretch of about 15 miles. They were everywhere. I usually see deer and coyotes, and squirrels. I had never seen a wild turkey with my own eyes until I started this daily commute (about a year and a half ago now); they are incredibly beautiful to me, a riot of iridescence and pride, as they strut by the side of the road. Just last week I saw a family of them, a couple of mornings in a row; the cutest little turkeylings (what the hell are baby turkeys, I’ll have to look that one up). I slowed my vehicle, and did what I always do with the crows and the deer, etc., that are just standing on the narrow road. I loudly berated them for being so close to the road, told them that I loved them and wished them no harm. I let them know there’s evil people out there, who would just as soon run them over than slow down, and people that would love to eat them for dinner. And I advised them to stay as far away from humans as possible. I know they don’t know what I’m saying, but the entire time I was, most likely, scaring the wits out of them with my unintelligible human babble, I was projecting white protective light over them, in hopes that the love I feel for them will leave a residue of protection from harm. I haven’t seen them this week, so they’re either dead or safe. I won’t know.
I wish everybody could see the world the way I see it now. How everything in Nature is sacred geometry made manifest; how the Sun and the Moon and the Earth all work together in a perfect union to provide all life with everything we could possibly need. How much we need to work with, rather than against, to achieve and maintain the balance that humanity has deliberately let slip from its grasp.
We, mankind, are the most invasive species on the planet. While we blame geese for doing what they do naturally on our manufactured structures and machines. We poison the feed of birds so they won’t reproduce, or simply kill them for bothering us. We run them over to make points on the road. We hunt and trap them so that we can steal their bodies, their fur. Their children slowly starve and die in their dens when mom never comes home again. We stalk and shoot them with arrows and bullets, taking false pride in the fact that we have weapons, and they have no defense. We have mass die-offs of ocean-dwellers washing up on shores all over the globe from pollution we dumped there. Birds, falling from the skies; indicator species like frogs and bees and bats, disappearing, dying off, contracting unknown diseases, growing extra legs and eyes – How can we humans mindlessly prance through life, indoctrinated from birth, continuing to ridicule, torture, misrepresent, profit from, kill and eat all of our fellow earthlings, and tear down their habitats in our narcissistic folly, much longer? When the water is fouled forever, and the crops turn to dust from overuse of pesticides, when the peoples’ health fails from consuming untested genetic modifications that our bodies have not yet evolved to process without complications, will the sleeping awake then? As the years pass, I’m having my doubts. I believe they’ll just stockpile their guns, listen to the media blaming everyone but ourselves, and take out as many people as they can, like warring savages, when the shit really hits the fan – no food, no water, no order – let them eat their money then. It’s the new God. Again. Like I said in Chapter 3, if you don’t expose yourself to alternative media, you’ll have no clue what’s really happening to the world, because they keep you medicated and numb with reality shows and inane comedy, news that isn’t news, and advice that keeps the corporate machine happy. #unplug
Not that I’m some great Braveheart-like warrior for the planet – I’m 55, disabled now, and I break no laws. On purpose. Until free speech is considered outlawed, that’s how I spread my message. “The pen is mightier than the sword,” and all that. My alarm goes off at 5am every morning, and I commute pretty far, and work a lot. I have a mortgage and car payment, like most fools. I follow a lot of websites and pages that promote living off the grid, because it looks SO perfect to me. But, I’m not that young, spry, immortal person I once was. So I bought Organic Gardening for Dummies, planned a small organic garden, which is doing pretty well for the first year. The tomato plants are taller than me, and I wanted to be all earthy and creative, so I lashed together fallen redwood branches with green twine to make the tomato cages, which are turning out to be woefully inadequate. I want to expand the garden next year, having learned a few new things in the application of the thing. Gardening really is the best therapy, both mental and physical. Watching something grow from seed to fruition is an epiphany.
I want to learn how to dry and can food. I’m hoping that 1) I learn how to do all of this stuff before the grid fails, and 2) I live long enough to enjoy the fruits of my labor, and 3) that I can provide some sort of sanctuary to some friends, family and neighbors when it hits the fan. All of that is pretty ambitious, but I do believe we are on the verge of a massive infrastructure fail, though the mindless idiots out in the world will be shocked and butt hurt as all hell when it happens, and there’s nothing left to consume. Who will they blame then? Sillies. Can’t save ’em all, just like the animals in kill shelters that no one comes for. Well, not just like them. The animal didn’t do anything wrong. Their human breeders did, though. Like I said – mindless.
I may not sound much like a happy person, but you’d be entirely incorrect to conclude that as fact. I am living better than I could have ever imagined; the little cottage I have is the culmination of every dream-dwelling I ever mused over; surrounded by soaring redwood trees, with a river flowing by my deck, the garden, three rescued kitties and a family of skunks who live under the house and come out in the evenings to explore the yard and eat (skunk babies are as sweet as kittens, btw). The sun through the trees that give the yard a Rembrandt glow; the moon and stars through the skylights, the deep, satisfying scent of warm earth and leaves on a hot day, the fog that becomes so thick that it’s like a spooky movie – the night filled with the sounds of mountain lions and squabbling skunks and raccoons drinking from the river. I am finally, completely, in my element – which is ALL of the elements. Earth, Air, Fire, Water, Spirit. I dwell within all five. That’s why I say I am on the path I was meant to be on. It feels so right. Not to be cliche, but it feels complete in my gut. I would rather converse with a bird or a skunk than a human any day. The birds get it. They are part of something that, collectively, humanity is so disconnected from that it makes us the most pathetic species ever spawned. We don’t get it. We’re the odd ones out. We live outside of the natural order, and thus have deliberately juxtaposed ourselves against everything else. It can’t last much longer.
We will either implode or explode, take your choice. I think I imploded, which erased all of the programming I had received, and I have been free to see the world with real eyes since then. It’s the most beautiful, fulfilling, delightful, stunning feeling in existence – to see with real eyes. Some say you have to go through hell to get them. I guess the definition of “hell” depends on your perspective, but I believe now, that the only hell there is, is the one we have created, right here on Earth. We can either be compassionate and just stewards of nature, or unthinking, mad machines of destruction. There’s really no middle ground in this war between good and evil. Every day, some corporation, who is protected by the very people we voted into office, is literally raping and pillaging a forest, a mountain, a lake, the ocean, the plains, the air, and the inhabitants who get in their way – simply to make another dollar. Orangutans, endangered species – burned alive out of their trees, clutching their newborn babies. Dolphins are corralled into The Cove and slaughtered until the ocean runs red. Intelligent, loving creatures, treated like unfeeling garbage. Dogs and cats boiled alive because locals believe the flesh is sweeter if the animal died in agonizing pain. All of the entertainment I was brought up to believe was delightful fun, like circuses and petting zoos, county fairs and roadside attractions – I have found to be steeped in atrocities and arbitrary punishment towards entirely innocent victims, non-human animals. I say “non-human” because people seem to forget, in their disconnected state, that they are animals, too. We’re not vegetable, nor mineral. We are animals. And if non-human animals could describe their Satan, he would look just like us. What we have done to our home is unforgivable. Seriously. It’s so beyond the pale that the Holocaust, by comparison, was a tiny massacre. We breed, subjugate, make to suffer, abuse and slaughter billions of animals every year. And those who balk at my comparison of the slaughter of humans to animals, as if somehow it denigrates superior humanity, are perfect examples of the disconnected, mindless masses.
I remember what it was like to be placed in a dark box without my consent. But what I encountered was a luxury if placed side-by-side with the life of one pig in a factory farm. I wish that everybody would watch any one of the myriad videos that are free online, of the things we do. It’s not what you’ve been conditioned to believe. Not even close.
This was my dream when I was young. This song was number one on the charts when I was sixteen, and playing constantly on the radio the weekend I met my husband-to be. http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=jMBU4kR70z4 I finally achieved my dream, and I’m not leaving without a fight. Even if I have to beat somebody to death with my cane and pummel them with tomatoes. Thank you, Jesse Colin Young, for implanting my dream in my head. Best goal ever.
So, when all is said and done, I have had the surprising and unexpected pleasure of creating a glorious paradise for myself, through hard work and sheer luck. But, outside of the boundaries of my property, I see the world as it is – slowly being bled of its life force, billions suffering the worst possible sadistic treatment for the palates, pleasure, and “wealth” of mankind. They don’t know the true meaning of the word wealth at all, and I don’t like selective compassion and deliberate ignorance, so leaving home is not something I like to do. Thus, Lone Raven Sanctuary. In case you were wondering.