tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72941593494735402642024-03-05T07:09:49.783-08:00Epiphany NowMusings from an optimistic pessimist realist with Idealistic Fantasies intended to honor logic, sanity, truth, spirit, competence, and uncommon sense.Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.comBlogger131125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-67162674184318077992018-03-13T14:18:00.001-07:002018-03-13T14:35:04.122-07:00Diesel Powerd Murikan Roadkill<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b> </b><span style="font-weight: normal;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi79qDG_7U_Cxe90d2dB9JJKK7DXBJ-anzDJrMGyCh3OoxqJY_aqCtWsgpeyUs9pnt_cxRVZ3PTJwLkWVTiqqbDKSMY-DyxcEWs2WEO_It3-hLCMy1jkdMadpWLzj9zgQZR_A92UJ84rKg/s1600/IMG_3258.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi79qDG_7U_Cxe90d2dB9JJKK7DXBJ-anzDJrMGyCh3OoxqJY_aqCtWsgpeyUs9pnt_cxRVZ3PTJwLkWVTiqqbDKSMY-DyxcEWs2WEO_It3-hLCMy1jkdMadpWLzj9zgQZR_A92UJ84rKg/s400/IMG_3258.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I took this picture with my iphone at a truck stop in Utah</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">It's
2 in the morning and a shape appears on the northern Indiana road in
front of me. At 65 mph there are only a couple of seconds to
decipher the image and react. It's quickly realized that there are
two raccoon on the road, they are moving around, probably picking at
some type of food. It's a mystery what they are doing, but in the
next second there is a thud thud as the 80,000 pound semi tractor
trailer continues on at 65 mph. It seems that racoon should be more
intelligent than this. The next several minutes are followed by a
lingering melancholy. I've just taken one, maybe two, lives, and
senselessly with no premeditation. I've killed directly before, with
a 30/30, but I killed intentionally from a tree stand 20 feet up in a
tree. I also ate the meat.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">As I drive on through the night and
contemplate the death of those raccoon, I'm reminded of some things.
I begin to ruminate on America, and why I have also unintentionally
killed thousands of people. </span></span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">17
years ago I was on a U.S. Aircraft carrier, the U.S.S. Carl Vinson,
and planes crashed into the World Trade Centers in N.Y. City. That
day changed this country. It changed all of the citizens. It
changed me in irrevocable ways, and for different reasons than it
changed most. The first Murikan bombs dropped on Afghanistan were
from my ship, and I spent a lot of effort directly helping that
reality, and I consequently spent even more effort trying to
understand why. At the time I was a 21 year old idealist. I should
have never enlisted in the military, but I was lost, and wandering,
and searching for my own way in the world. I had grown up mostly
fatherless, the product of a single mother. That too has gone a long
way towards defining who I am now and why I was on that carrier in
the first place. Constantly on a quest, searching for something that
I defined as the truth. What was the world, and what was I supposed
to do with it? I was not interested in money, but money is necessary
in society. </span></span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> I
smelled a rat. I smelled a stinkin', no good, putrid, walking dead
rat. At the time I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew that it
had something to do with my country, and my navy, and my conscience.
Cognitive dissonance grew to lighting and thunder in my own mind. It
shook me to insanity, and I ran away from any contribution to those
bombs. Consequences be damned! I was 21. That decision has also
continued to define me. Shortly after the terrorists attacked we were
in Iraq looking for weapons of mass destruction as the military moved
in. There were no WMD's, that was a lie, as was the effort in
Afghanistan. A lot of evidence points towards the U.S. , at a bare
minimum, being complicit towards the demise of the towers. The
government at least allowed it to happen, and then used that tragedy
they allowed to happen to accomplish a goal. Why is our military
still in Afghanistan and Iraq? Nobody in Murika talks about the fact
that Murika is still at war, and has been since 9/11 of 2001. If
forced to think about it “keeping Murika safe from terrorism”
will likely be regurgitated all patriotic and programmed meme like. Well...it's really not correct to call what Murika is doing "war." It's actually occupation, domination, and usurpation of formerly independent and autonomous nations at drone, bomb, missile, and gunpoint. </span></span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> Petroleum
is the reason we have been at war for 17 years. More specifically
gasoline and diesel is the reason. Petroleum is a limited resource,
and that is an irrefutable fact of geology. It's an irrefutable
scientific fact. Read that again, slowly, and for comprehension, and
try to have a clue about what it means. Murikans are professional
delusionists. I knew that we are completely dependent on petroleum
before I took a job as a long haul flatbed trucker. Now I KNOW it.
Everyday I burn somewhere between 50 and 100 gallons of diesel. Do
you know how many truck drivers there are in Murika doing the same?
It's somewhere around 4 million. It is just about impossible to buy
anything with money that has not been on a truck at a minimum of
once. It's more likely that the finished product you buy has been on
4 or 5 or 10 trucks (in many cases thousands..this would be your average car) and probably a ship and a train before you spend
your money on it. In order to buy something that has not been on a
truck it just about has to be made by human hands, locally, and from
raw materials that have been harvested locally from nature. </span></span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> Just
before I took this job as a trucker I was busy learning how to do
just that with bamboo. In fact you could have bought a basket from
me, made by me, out of bamboo that I grew, harvested, cured, treated,
split, and wove all by hand. You'd have to pay around 2 to 300
dollars for it because said item would have represented a minimum of
25 hours in direct artisan labor on my part. That's not counting the
time it took to care for the groves, to harvest the cane, to process
it, and then to cure it. That's just counting the time it took me to
treat the cane with fire, and then to split the cane with a
traditional Japanese bamboo splitting blade, and then to weave it.
Next to nobody will pay 300 dollars for an artisan bamboo basket
grown and crafted by artisan hands locally when they can go buy a plastic (petroleum) bucket from Lowes for $5. I also spent a number of
years training in permaculture design. I made money with bamboo and
permaculture, but not enough money to support myself in this world,
much less a wife and two children. </span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxqciTn159NSY6BYZ4FMckcyMvklqVMzkHIyznDOSn3XirwXFKZphcxc0WfX9noWMJq9XaGZu_WlYLWyTmcPVfZ2xhYFcpC4xWVQTj7Nj-hdeREAWueNIc1RCzpFpNM_SMwGRMe9ZXvY/s1600/IMG_3011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxqciTn159NSY6BYZ4FMckcyMvklqVMzkHIyznDOSn3XirwXFKZphcxc0WfX9noWMJq9XaGZu_WlYLWyTmcPVfZ2xhYFcpC4xWVQTj7Nj-hdeREAWueNIc1RCzpFpNM_SMwGRMe9ZXvY/s320/IMG_3011.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Split bamboo next to whole canes.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bamboo fence for my wife's garden spot</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjun4XPPAZ9x1psxUQ0GsSN4o6spEdMdI7IwDbvUTr5cue2cYaWTDRb90rueQyPiMUMVXvdswMJVtE7QR4Ze7Sjb5L7oWiOS4cBfPCe1DCpmjmzsIkCO8maOzem3dX7dR13XgUy6QkTMpk/s1600/IMG_2903.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjun4XPPAZ9x1psxUQ0GsSN4o6spEdMdI7IwDbvUTr5cue2cYaWTDRb90rueQyPiMUMVXvdswMJVtE7QR4Ze7Sjb5L7oWiOS4cBfPCe1DCpmjmzsIkCO8maOzem3dX7dR13XgUy6QkTMpk/s320/IMG_2903.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> I
was involved in Permaculture and bamboo, and both because I was
following my bliss. That bliss was to live a natural life. That
bliss was to use my hands to create beauty, and to be a good steward
to the natural landscapes that sustain us as biological creatures.
That bliss was to pay homage to the actual reality that is the
natural processes that occur in nature to make things such as the air
we breath, the water we drink, and the soil we grow our food in.
That bliss was to treat the Earth as a living entity that, along with
the sun, imbues and blesses us all with life. That bliss was an
idealistic lie in this world. Alas, idealism does not pay any bills.
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Weaving a door for the garden spot fence</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiaFcFEhFvZ0dgP-MCoKznOGD2wfTd7qEXRIZdmIOuN-d8cGg_Bx2a05U7vRkXii8KJsGP7ClWujSzCpBFA3INegfLvUIHSkxXnmfc6Ildtpnmw4lXBl3gfR8gKq15ZAxhwwcWhwJu8nw/s1600/IMG_3031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiaFcFEhFvZ0dgP-MCoKznOGD2wfTd7qEXRIZdmIOuN-d8cGg_Bx2a05U7vRkXii8KJsGP7ClWujSzCpBFA3INegfLvUIHSkxXnmfc6Ildtpnmw4lXBl3gfR8gKq15ZAxhwwcWhwJu8nw/s320/IMG_3031.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Delusional bliss in action</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZv4jYnYaP8l3xmNpMQqhHbQcqDVGvivox7XkUVzAGxppYdg5ZW1h6QX8H0d_bo4aGZ0HXKPPPWnhNlAb54dukkF33iFUrD1v-Cw1J4kkVt1zyeOZpREDQpEMh94B2ceDh1dkzxRrCUTI/s1600/IMG_3041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZv4jYnYaP8l3xmNpMQqhHbQcqDVGvivox7XkUVzAGxppYdg5ZW1h6QX8H0d_bo4aGZ0HXKPPPWnhNlAb54dukkF33iFUrD1v-Cw1J4kkVt1zyeOZpREDQpEMh94B2ceDh1dkzxRrCUTI/s320/IMG_3041.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bamboo door</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> So
what does roadkill have to do with Murika and petroleum and war and
an idealistic hippie playing with bamboo and digging permaculture
holes? I realized that America is this truck that I now drive for
money, and those raccoon are the rest of the world. That is exactly
how Murika treats the rest of the world, as well as the natural
environment. It's just “collateral damage” (a term coined by the
Murikan Military Industrial Complex to describe innocent civilian
deaths in war) that is unfortunately necessary to keep us all up in
the manner we have become accustomed. Just about nothing, with the
exception of nature (and air brakes combined with engine compression
brakes), can stop an 80,0000 pound truck at 65 mph. Anything that's
in the way becomes roadkill...thud thud. Worse than that actually,
because at least the scavenger birds can pick at the roadkill, and
occasionally some crazy ass re-wilder may come along and take the
roadkill home to eat it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Those raccoon may as well be the old me
sitting in the road weaving my bamboo basket from bamboo grown in my
yard, planting trees, and attempting to make my way in this world as
a permaculturists specializing in bamboo. Now I'm at the wheel as
well. I'm now a willing participant finally made complicit to the
Murikan semi that's making a thud thud out of the rest of the
planet...kickin' your brown ass and takin' your brown gas! If only
the 21 year old me, getting himself kicked out of the navy on account of his idealism, could see me now! If he could see me he would
disown me, or kill me before I could get out of control with
complacency, apathy, and what he would see as cowardice while
kneeling down before the puppet masters of the system for some
pellets of comfortably numb conformity. </span></span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> Ironically
I love this job! I wasn't entirely a product of a single mother. My
father was in my life, but minimally. I saw him a couple of times a
year when I was a little boy. He was a trucker, but that wasn't why
I didn't see him, that's ironically what enabled me to see him. I didn't see him because his second wife hated my
mother, and she hated me because I was my mother's son. For a number
of years he was under her spell (something he now recognizes), and so
I rarely saw him. When I did see him it was to go with him over the
road in his semi (and his wife had no idea, hence the afore mentioned irony). Such power fathers have
over their children! It's enough power to make them into truck drivers 30 years later
on account of a couple of preteen memories! Well, that, and a large helping of genetics. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Deep down I love semi
trucks and trailers. I'm sure it has a lot to do with the need I
have to be a man, and a father, due to a wife and two of my own boys.
My father was a trucker. He was the only template on being a father I've ever had. When I finally
spent time with him it was to the sound of a diesel engine, and to
the smell of diesel, and with the allure of the passing road. I love
driving a semi, I love the power, and I love the mechanical
accomplishment they represent. But if I'm completely honest, some
part of me feels that I have finally grown to a man, and I am now
providing money for my family. Men are supposed to provide, and in
our society that means money. Yet the plague of cognitive dissonance
continues to haunt me with it's furious sound of hypocrisy. </span></span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> To
be constantly going somewhere new, and to have everything I need with
me, and to mostly be left alone...these are all things that I love
about being a trucker. It's very peaceful to be left alone while
listening to music, and my thoughts, as the landscape changes in
front of me, as I fulfill my husbandly and fatherly requirement to
get money. I never know where I will end up for the night to catch a
shower and some sleep. Mostly I stay at truck stops, which are the
places our society have created for the trucks to stop so that their
human pilots may shower, do laundry, eat, and get coffee and
cigarettes. There's also rest areas, company terminals, and
occasionally a Walmart parking lot or the parking lot of a shipper or
consignee. I imagine that I'm sailing a ship on the black bitumen
sea, and I'm the captain. I'm also making twice as much money as
I've ever made in my life doing this. I'm making twice as much as I
made working as a medic on an ambulance after 8 years of service. </span></span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> You
see, permaculture and bamboo were not paying any bills. They were
not presenting the promise of any type of stability for my wife and
children. As much as I wanted to live in a world that did not
exist...a world morally superior to the one we all inhabit, and a
world that aught to exist, it was all just delusional thinking.
Idealism made pernicious by business as usual. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">If Murika is the
truck that splattered the racoon, than the Corporatocracy is at the
wheel, and we're all just unique and individual diesel atoms. Murika is also a delusion, at
least as it exist in the minds of most Murikans. The truth is that
there are no lines on the map of the world any longer. At least not
any lines that matter to the Corporatocracy. All of the inhabitants
of this planet, both human and non-human, have no value to the
corporate machine beyond the value of their contribution to the
continuance of BAU. Business As Usual is business as it always has
been. Since the rise of the first civilization the world has been
dominated by the hierarchy of man. Man has taken by force using both
his mind and his body. For a long time there were proper kingdoms
which were ruled by kings. The king ruled by controlling the
politics and the military of his kingdom. There were many different
kingdoms that existed throughout the world of time and place. </span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgilXm9SfsiSCukoBDP4v5Ox-WUtczpgrqfRv4h-04LZJXvXAQc9nLUmS9fZ-47VzpeA_RFGcHY9e1iBBqpNbWJDkmehaVZlmIVR-meM2JDtIM2W3JiavY0tfuSBG1jQdVBgVt4nHcuxfQ/s1600/IMG_3012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgilXm9SfsiSCukoBDP4v5Ox-WUtczpgrqfRv4h-04LZJXvXAQc9nLUmS9fZ-47VzpeA_RFGcHY9e1iBBqpNbWJDkmehaVZlmIVR-meM2JDtIM2W3JiavY0tfuSBG1jQdVBgVt4nHcuxfQ/s320/IMG_3012.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my conventional landscape business clients had this pesky weed food growing, so I harvested it</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj78akxbNfKDb7pW6cihyphenhyphenkEMlCcR00sVmPGnuvE8qbyjn_EiPHVHsmY9n57tf_uh-J3Q7Wh7JWxM3KJ1wb37M9zHwNWGS1OUJiabcUzfmHSzoEIB9Uxg_-QTA1_cfDDQIeEAqKC0Gb5r30/s1600/IMG_3025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj78akxbNfKDb7pW6cihyphenhyphenkEMlCcR00sVmPGnuvE8qbyjn_EiPHVHsmY9n57tf_uh-J3Q7Wh7JWxM3KJ1wb37M9zHwNWGS1OUJiabcUzfmHSzoEIB9Uxg_-QTA1_cfDDQIeEAqKC0Gb5r30/s320/IMG_3025.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Took it home and fed it to my family. Bamboo shoots have more protein than any other vegetable</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> Now,
for the first time in the known history of man, there is one kingdom
that controls the entirety of the planet, and that is the
Corporatocracy which has a capitol in Murika (not to be confused with
capital...wait). It has control of the technology we use everyday.
It controls the global military as well as the politics that control
the global military. It controls all of the people of this world,
and those that it does not control it kills wantonly and with no
conscience. No one can stop this final rule of the Corporatocracy.
The only things that have the potential to stop it are natural
disaster and petroleum depletion. This is the reality that greed has
formulated. The Corporatocracy's primary objective is profit for the
share holders. All of the decisions that are made are made to keep
those at the top at the top. They are at the top of a system that
works for them, and they will continue perpetuating that system so
long as they can because they are greedy and psychopathic. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> What
about the rest of us? Are we complicit in this unnatural disaster?
We all contribute because we all need money to survive. We need
money to buy food, shelter, clothing, education, healthcare, safety, stability, comfort,
security, entertainment, convenience, and the electronic gadgets we
need to participate in SwampBook, KnitTwitter, and all of the rest of
the anti-social narcissism that currently defines the majority of the
sleep walking wake walkers. There is no escaping the global matrix
that controls the planet. At least there is no escape where you
succeed and are still left breathing and above ground. To escape in
reality, and to do so without contributing to BAU, would have to mean
doing so without money. How many people do you know that are living
without money? If you spend money then you are spending it on goods
and services that are only possible due to this diesel powered
Murika. This diesel powered Murika is only possible due to our
military and the petroleum our military protects and enables. If you
aren't contributing than you'll likely be turned roadkill by the semi
trucks that make the American way of life possible. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGnAOrM1gh6rbynIdE9x_1aI2j6YENJH4wSrHF_gmpL7_roefnJ6xpsMsY_g-FCYXOsWJcewKQa_beP3X776_P85kj7ptyETguguo4CpqdWJXbqxtzMA1S4onmoYGhnKyiOLrHPvQncg/s1600/IMG_3142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGnAOrM1gh6rbynIdE9x_1aI2j6YENJH4wSrHF_gmpL7_roefnJ6xpsMsY_g-FCYXOsWJcewKQa_beP3X776_P85kj7ptyETguguo4CpqdWJXbqxtzMA1S4onmoYGhnKyiOLrHPvQncg/s320/IMG_3142.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last bamboo basket I made before becoming a Trucker</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-70085472025029112372017-01-05T07:36:00.000-08:002017-01-05T07:36:40.679-08:00Plutocracy <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbIt4F0HuOSaR8piQCWTFKRHUHQksZ9HtNUk_BUnqnPLuSyqbUxEo9WoYENrQIX5otJcbSOblYPJi-qvXoCl0HDHm1LcZ0V6i0kiDEa_Wb-gbP69hB03K3lfn8miXmN8gDBZD7Whgac2Q/s1600/Capitalist+pyramid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbIt4F0HuOSaR8piQCWTFKRHUHQksZ9HtNUk_BUnqnPLuSyqbUxEo9WoYENrQIX5otJcbSOblYPJi-qvXoCl0HDHm1LcZ0V6i0kiDEa_Wb-gbP69hB03K3lfn8miXmN8gDBZD7Whgac2Q/s320/Capitalist+pyramid.jpg" width="252" /></a></div>
I don't understand how they get away with it. That is the mystery to
me. All of the power should be with the people as we have the numbers,
but it's not, and seemingly it never has been, as the documentary<i> Plutocracy</i> (the film at the bottom of this blog post) attests to. I highly recommend that you find the time to watch this film. There is a second part, but unfortunately the audio has been removed due to a copyright infringement. How convenient is that! <br />
<br />
The people give the power to the
church by going to it and believing in it, and that's the level just
below the 1%. Below that is the military which is formed from the
proletariat class, so the force that protects and ensures the whole
system is kept safe by the sons and daughters of the people. <br />
<br />
The
rentier class doesn't do anything but profit off of the backs of the people
as this depiction shows. It seems they could easily be overtaken by
the people. I guess that happens by striking, which I never really
understood until watching <i>Plutocracy.</i> Striking and
boycotting are really the only meaningful actions the proletariat can
take. Protesting has no effect any longer. It used to raise awareness back before Facebook cast it's narcissistic net over the masses. TPTB could give two farts whether we protest or not as is obvious by OWS and Standing Rock.<br />
<br />
Organizing
a massive strike is a Herculean task to be sure. The only security the
people have are their wages, so it has to be bad enough for the fear of
no wages to be less than the quality of life that the wages provide. Over the
years the 1% have perfected the means by which they control the masses.
Control of the food via industrial agriculture with terminator seeds
and GMO's is probably the most important step by which they control.
They made food easy. They made it where the people did not have to
concern themselves with getting enough food, or where the food comes from. It's not good healthy
food, but it's cheap and it taste good. <br />
<br />
Next is private
property which is what makes money so necessary. You have to
have a place to live...a place to lay your head and stay warm and
sheltered. If all of the land is private property where you have to
have permission to be there, than there is nowhere for you to live your
life without money. That's ultimately where they get control of the
whole thing, money! This allows the Rentier class to profit off of the
peoples backs. <br />
<br />
With control of the food and the money what are
the people to do? Now the people have no idea about food. To the
majority it's something that comes wrapped in petroleum at the big box
store, or it's something that they drive their cars through a fast food fry pit line to acquire. Where do the big box stores get the food? It comes from the
trucks of course. Where do the trucks get the food? From the food
factory of course. Where does the food factory get the food? What do
you mean? They get the food from the food gettin' place...and that's if
the fools even think that far about it, which they mostly don't. The
food just comes from the grocery store and that is all the thinking that
is done about it. <br />
<br />
What is it that keeps us enslaved to the
system they have put into place? Is it really the ignorance and
gullibility of the masses? If you can get past the ignorance and
gullibility somehow, by educating, then I suppose the next edifice is
fear itself. Or maybe a lack of imagination combined with a sense of
powerlessness. The more stupid the people become the easier it is for
them to control us, and nothing is more representative of this process
than Trumpty Dumpty as POTUS. This is straight out of the film <i>Idiocracy. </i> <br />
<br />
The
truth is that the people have been dumbed down to the point where they
think Trump has their back. At least a sizeable portion of the people.
The people are satiated by food chemicals, corn syrup, alcohol,
nicotine, netflix, iphones, and finally fukitol. <br />
<br />
In the end,
and there is an end to this, the 1% have built a house of cards. We
have a global 1% now, and they can all keep the people in check via the
system they have built. The huge global Corporate system that is the
true plutocracy has a weakness. Fossil fuels are that weakness! The
Corporatocracy is dependent on fossil fuels to keep the house of cards
propped up. At some point, on the back side of Hubbert's curve, there
will be enough austerity for the masses that a critical mass will be
reached. There will be a tipping point, and I think that's when we will
know that the game is over. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22zPsSup6OnPiBdwt7KbiyuA2SvbWMLOs0qgq_SUJCdvb9laxBDg7W_aHaHdOIBX4EDEJSEy1cVb0dWYWQhIq7I7-UBdhdqs4bzKmi5580Ip0Rr66qQqaQNBRSqLhRCrfEfFIm1szmqQ/s1600/human+population.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="129" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22zPsSup6OnPiBdwt7KbiyuA2SvbWMLOs0qgq_SUJCdvb9laxBDg7W_aHaHdOIBX4EDEJSEy1cVb0dWYWQhIq7I7-UBdhdqs4bzKmi5580Ip0Rr66qQqaQNBRSqLhRCrfEfFIm1szmqQ/s320/human+population.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
It will be OWS times 10, only it
will not be peaceful. When there is enough austerity in America there
will be nothing that can stop the anger of the proletariat.
Unfortunately they do not understand that fossil fuels are the ultimate
reason why their lives have changed. What will the 1% do when the
system begins breaking under the weight of low EROEI energy? By all
measures we are at that point now, but as I have mentioned they are
keeping it's dead lifeless body propped up with endless digibit
subsidies. That trick has a shelf life. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdiADtiEtcfgOs40Npaf56WYfwliSm7_qJWV16CEvKkvTq2etyz8DFFgFeOlNyfEB97m2k-swGamfr6VPwWSQifyfp64f5VvL_pZFWpeuSM1COXTTHjjR5mfgKc7XBOSNDOo6vtC4Hr4/s1600/EROEI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdiADtiEtcfgOs40Npaf56WYfwliSm7_qJWV16CEvKkvTq2etyz8DFFgFeOlNyfEB97m2k-swGamfr6VPwWSQifyfp64f5VvL_pZFWpeuSM1COXTTHjjR5mfgKc7XBOSNDOo6vtC4Hr4/s320/EROEI.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I'm certain the 1% has
a plan for the breaking point. I don't buy that they have no idea
about the weakness that's built into their system. I can buy that the
politicians mostly might not know due to ignorance, but the upper
echelons are informed. Why they aren't trying to curtail the whole
thing with renewables is a mystery to me, but I'm sure there is a reason
for it. It's likely because they know that there is no way that
renewables can be anything more than a band-aid. That's why I'm starting
to believe that their plan is for a massive reduction in population.
Reduce the world population by 5 billion and there's enough fossil fuels
to keep this whole shootin' match going until Nibiriu comes or the Sun
burns out. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/IHWyLx8aV40" width="560"></iframe>Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-75429918542900601672016-12-26T08:57:00.001-08:002016-12-26T08:57:36.113-08:00Reveries of Collapse <blockquote class="tr_bq">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqR1jVcs0z_aUmD-abYyWUG1Ph567fMPEDoZyqC_U5ntjs3ZYJMNnBqns0Irlt8akJPTJR0gdKs47icWeDb85Qo8d_XCR-evo0rFICC3uImhwNG8P5XOfmm3f8UBM6OO-TTS9C8Ip71CY/s1600/lady+gaga.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqR1jVcs0z_aUmD-abYyWUG1Ph567fMPEDoZyqC_U5ntjs3ZYJMNnBqns0Irlt8akJPTJR0gdKs47icWeDb85Qo8d_XCR-evo0rFICC3uImhwNG8P5XOfmm3f8UBM6OO-TTS9C8Ip71CY/s400/lady+gaga.jpg" width="242" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lady Gaga's meat suit</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Energy deflation and dollar preference are large forces beyond the control of politicians, generals or central bankers. They are driving countries and events toward involuntary conservation. America’s new president is the product of economic failure; the inability of the economists to make correct analysis, a long grinding recession disguised as recovery; media falsehoods and the unwillingness of Americans and others to face reality, government policy failures and the headwinds of resource depletion. Trump and his cretinous gang of thieves represents the last gasp of a defunct industrial system that is sinking under the weight of its own costs.<br />
<br />
<br />
Keep in mind, oil producing states like the US tend to be autocratic. The US, Canada, Mexico and others are on their way to becoming single-party police states like Saudi Arabia or Iran. Because of autocrats promise of access to energy, they gain ascendancy with their populations’ eager consent. What is at stake for Americans and the West is democracy itself: a choice between the right to have a say in our own affairs versus the false-promises of energy-driven ‘prosperity’ offered by autocrats … the choice between the (vague) promise of convenience or having a functioning republic.</blockquote>
<a href="http://www.economic-undertow.com/2016/12/23/king-trump-the-irrelevant/" target="_blank">King Trump the Irrelevant</a><br />
<br />
I think these two paragraphs sum up our reality nicely. They capture what is true about our situation. I'm in agreement with everything quoted above. <br />
<br />
I've long said that the power of money is nothing more than the power of the energy we have at our disposal. They can create as many digibits as they want to create, and with no consequence since digibits are digital and not really subject to any physical laws. The banking insolvency is really just a ruse. Like politics, like arguing about who would be the better president, like watching football, it's just something to talk about that applies to our reality only in a fictional way. Our talking about it gives it it's strength and relevance. The great reality behind it is the primary economy of energy and other natural resources. However, those natural resources cannot support a global economy without the energy to make use of them. Trees, food produced by the monolith of industrial agriculture, our collapsing fisheries, fresh water, minerals, ores, all of those things require energy to harvest them, and then to fashion them into consumer items. Money is simply the means by which we are able to claim our portion of that energy. The more money you have, the more energy you can lay claim to by way of goods and services.<br />
<br />
In the face of a finite world it's really all just an illusion of cohesion. The great reset should have happened in 2008, but it did not happen. Instead, the failing energy sector was propped up by the creation of more digibits. It's not the banks that were too big to fail but our way of life. If they had not exercised the ability to create digibits ad infinitum, and to put those digibits in service of bringing energy to market, than we would have been forced to engage with the reality of our diminishing resources. The trillions of digibits that have been created by the Federal Reserve and the Federal Goobermint have amounted to nothing more than the largest financial subsidy in the history of the world. Just like our industrial agriculture is made possible only by it's subsidization, our energy is now only made possible by subsidy. It's not a direct subsidy though. It's a subsidy of money creation loaned into existence for free. The 3.8 billion dollar DAPL pipeline had to be financed by this money that the banks create by turning the digibit knob. It could have just as easily been 3.8 trillion dollars, and had it been that price the banks would have created that money and loaned it into existence. The truth is that without that energy our civilization will become transparent, and we will all be forced to wake up and see the house of cards that we have built. <br />
<br />
The simple truth is that everything we do is only made possible by fossil energy. Our food, transportation, electricity, buildings, cultural methods of inhabiting our world, clothing, medicine, everything all hinges on the energy being present to create them in the first place. It's not that we can't create those things using the power of our own bodies and that of our beasts of burden. It's that we no longer have a human scaled way of inhabiting our planet. That is why robotics have become so important, and it's why NAFTA had to happen. NAFTA simply made slavery legal again for the first world, buy it was hidden in third world countries. We took their resources, and the energy of their people, and exploited it to feed the 1st world empire. We sold a lie that their people were joining ours by becoming "developed" countries, as if to have a culture made by hand, a culture that is actually a culture made of people and their skills and engagement with the natural world, was not a real culture. <br />
<br />
Now we have what amounts to what I like to call a "global anti-culture." Now science has enabled us to live a culture free life where we are kept busy by free entertainment glistening on flat screens, the flat lands that are devoid of virtue. Now robots are set to do all of the work that must be done to continue inhabiting our world the way that we inhabit it. Every year more and more people must scrap by with mailbox money that must be meagerly portioned out to overcome the cultural atrophy that has descended down upon us all. Our bodies are becoming nothing more than energy sinks without a purpose. What jobs there are, that are not part of the service economy, are jobs where we sit and do what amounts to nothing. Driving around, staring at computer screens in inefficient climate controlled box buildings made of glass, engaging with fictional digibits. Our bodies are no longer required and so they atrophy along with our brains. <br />
<br />
We are entering into the last act now. This last act is symbolized by the election of Donald Trump to lead the first world "democracy" that we supposedly have. How perfect is that? This is a man of no substance beyond that of ego gratification. A man who has done nothing of any real value, but a man that is filthy rich for it. Trump is like a mirror of our national consciousness. He is only reflecting back to us what we have become. It doesn't matter who the president of the United states is, because the system of business as usual has so much momentum that only it's own weight has the power to destroy it . The momentum is built up by what social critic, James Howard Kunstler, has aptly titled "the psychology of previous investment." It's the way we inhabit our landscape that has become to big to fail. But like the psychology that created it in the first place, it is fundamentally flawed and wrongheaded. It is based on an infantile wanting with no regards to limits and consequences. It is a hallucination that continues to exist because we give to it our energy. We infuse it with our psyches and it is failing us. It is failing to produce anything of any substance. It has choked the very life out of our bodies and made us powerless and useless. <br />
<br />
Now all that is left is for this pointless business as usual to slam into an immovable wall that is corporeal limitations. Just like cancer cells that kill their host and thereby commit suicide. Our way of life is failing, and like all civilizations that have come before us, it will collapse. It has been collapsing during my entire life. The cancer has become a global entity, and it has already metastasized and gone systemic, and all that is left is the awareness that we are dying. I suppose the silver lining is that this has always been the case. Just like individual beings who are born, mature, and then die, our civilizations are no different. All civilizations overshoot their resource bases and end up in collapse. This collapse won't be on the nightly news (as if anybody under 60 years old even watches MSM now). It won't be televised any differently than it has been already. It's not something that will be talked about, but that in no way diminishes the reality of it.<br />
<br />
Or maybe I'm just deluded and living in a fictional world made up of the laws of physics. Time will reveal the truth of my words. Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-60513184724351296242016-12-05T09:37:00.000-08:002016-12-05T09:37:12.737-08:00Fossill Fuel Dissonance <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY90d0-mz-_LxtMCmRSFtq8YqOTW4X38JUL8UGKJjdAgYlVaFQORKnjOUI4qjioUKooWOWHIpNuR5yRi-QZjuDiPiQyIeD-od80_NgSAoZZ2hR6jatnQ5b-jOJ6QRNAzmIrm4kZ1aOnG8/s1600/DAPL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY90d0-mz-_LxtMCmRSFtq8YqOTW4X38JUL8UGKJjdAgYlVaFQORKnjOUI4qjioUKooWOWHIpNuR5yRi-QZjuDiPiQyIeD-od80_NgSAoZZ2hR6jatnQ5b-jOJ6QRNAzmIrm4kZ1aOnG8/s320/DAPL.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DAPL route</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span id="goog_2070298954"></span><span id="goog_2070298955"></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It appears
that the Army Corp of Engineers has denied the easement that was to allow
Energy Transfer Partners to drill under Lake Oahe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lake Oahe being a lake that’s in existence
due to the damning of the Missouri river by the Army Corp of Engineers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Dakota Access Pipeline is a 3.7 billion
dollar project that was to cover 1172 miles of which something like 80-90% of
the work has already been completed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This pipeline will be moving 470,000 barrels of fracked Bakken oil per
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To give you some idea of what
470,000 barrels of oil per day means consider this:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the world produces about 97 million barrels
per day (MMb/d) of oi which comes out to about 35 billion barrels per
year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of that the U.S. uses about 19
MMb/d of which 9.4 MMb/d are imported.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The U.S. uses 7 billion barrels per year which equals out to about 20%
of the total world production.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
estimated that the Bakken oil region has 4.3 billion barrels of oil which is
slightly more than half of what we use here in the U.S. in one year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Bakken oil field is considered the
largest oil find in U.S. history.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of
course just because it is estimated that 4.3 billion barrels exist under the
ground locked up in shale does not mean that there actually is that much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if there is there’s nothing that says
that all of that oil is actually recoverable and able to be brought to
market.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, as of 2014 the Bakken
has been producing 1 mmb/d of oil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcVCLlE8vv4We4Y6gUS-fsXPniolJy_H4KYUT7P5_mjaTzekZK_hpBd2ASlNq3GYWlrnml0We0wo5VckFlBXQwLvzh7jkERi4qFO_4rm3AlJcsVyI3zBfsLfgwtR22gQj5PIbH45myXxY/s1600/pipelines.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcVCLlE8vv4We4Y6gUS-fsXPniolJy_H4KYUT7P5_mjaTzekZK_hpBd2ASlNq3GYWlrnml0We0wo5VckFlBXQwLvzh7jkERi4qFO_4rm3AlJcsVyI3zBfsLfgwtR22gQj5PIbH45myXxY/s320/pipelines.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">U.S. Pipelines </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">470,000 barrels of oil per day is a
lot of oil, all of which will be used in the South East of the U.S. which is
where I reside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without a pipeline, all
of that oil must be transported via rail and truck which costs more, and
according to the U.S. Department of Transportation, is not as safe as a pipeline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Using the rails for the transfer of this
energy means less rail cars left for transport of agricultural products.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not sure how it is that using pipelines
are safer than rail and truck transport considering that since 2010 there have
been 3,300 incidents of leak and rupture on crude and natural gas pipelines in
the U.S.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those leaks released 7 million
gallons of crude into the environment and represent a cost of 2.8 billion
dollars in clean up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Given all of that
it’s still more cost efficient to transport via pipeline which equates to lower
cost for gasoline at the pump for consumers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How much can you afford to pay for gasoline?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD-HOa-alkC8hREHPVWytc6xuoYzI74BiFa2jiSZE-gRl4y9mT0tJLwcPtedDcKgLhqDnToX2FLyf1QocGdcy_p6GkERuaeV9oUU8I2lk-DP4hB-356Lj66RKchfUxBUBkmdPVUPdbAXA/s1600/pipeline+ruptures.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD-HOa-alkC8hREHPVWytc6xuoYzI74BiFa2jiSZE-gRl4y9mT0tJLwcPtedDcKgLhqDnToX2FLyf1QocGdcy_p6GkERuaeV9oUU8I2lk-DP4hB-356Lj66RKchfUxBUBkmdPVUPdbAXA/s320/pipeline+ruptures.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pipeline ruptures</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The Lakota tribe, in consolidarity
with many other tribes from all over the U.S., was able to stop the DAPL pipeline
from crossing the Missouri river...at least temporarily. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>According to an ancient Native American
prophecy, the crossing of the “Black Snake” would have signaled the end of the
world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In this case the “Black Snake”
being the DAPL pipeline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been on
the side of the Natives during this entire protest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At one point, about a month ago, I decided
that I would go to North Dakota and stand at Standing Rock to help stop the “Black
Snake.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did not go because of my
family and cognizant dissonance, which is the reason I’m writing this essay
now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I say that this is a temporary
victory for the Natives because of what the Assistant Secretary for Civil Works
at the Army Corp of Engineers, Jo-Ellen Darcy, said about her decision to halt
the DAPL from crossing the Missouri at this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said that they need to “explore alternate
routes” for the crossing, and that she could not rule out a crossing under Lake
Oahe or even potentially North of Bismark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Originally the crossing was to happen in Bismark ND, but it was rerouted
through the Native land after Bismark protested the crossing in their back
yard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9opjE1xtvJAy2BU1HYHFbTiZGllVXIiyEXiP1_Fbhy5z1bDSFNaHIvOf3C9s7oCJ54yr_Oo7otC6q0DpJaCjHxmh6WY_DAaY5vXqgbOJXAo7ZrAWOjXE57rMororhr685zA9oThGc6VI/s1600/Native+American+Boarding+School.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9opjE1xtvJAy2BU1HYHFbTiZGllVXIiyEXiP1_Fbhy5z1bDSFNaHIvOf3C9s7oCJ54yr_Oo7otC6q0DpJaCjHxmh6WY_DAaY5vXqgbOJXAo7ZrAWOjXE57rMororhr685zA9oThGc6VI/s320/Native+American+Boarding+School.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Native American Boarding School</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It was decided that the crossing
would happen at Lake Oahe, where it would disrupt sacred native sites including
burial grounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>According to some
sources, I have read that the Army Corp of Engineers attempted to talk with the
Lakota elders and leaders <a href="http://www.orlandosentinel.com/opinion/os-ed-standing-rock-sioux-other-side-110916-20161109-story.html" target="_blank">hundreds of times</a>, and that they did not show up
to the talks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t say that I blame
them for not showing up if this is true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A casual glance at the history of the abuses that the Native Americans
have suffered at the hands of the U.S. government is really all that is
necessary to understand why they likely decided that they would be wasting
their time to show up at such meetings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Really, have we forgotten about the small pocks blankets and the Trail
of Tears?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is historical fact that for
hundreds of years the Native Americans have suffered genocide due to the
American Government.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their children were
taken from them by the thousands, had their hair cut, and were placed in
boarding schools to learn how to be white.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Buffalo was hunted damn near to extinction to eviscerate Native American sovereignty
and independence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is past time that
we stop abusing what is left of the Native Americans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now imagine that the pipeline will actually
cross north of Bismark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now when there
is a rupture in the pipeline there will be even more people downstream,
including the Lakota, who will suffer the environmental consequences of
polluted water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCOf3zGxciE0RuZPTtxDSvUIslw8Cg4kko0LYxTxjW2VxPO2bEWvXSXRSzVTb35567wLdymKi5_OT_0Wo9R_6Ut5f1bmjvo0mYo_izMeKX1hQ2UHISmW-H8wLN_4LaaY4-JlGnTE6PTJk/s1600/Native+Land.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCOf3zGxciE0RuZPTtxDSvUIslw8Cg4kko0LYxTxjW2VxPO2bEWvXSXRSzVTb35567wLdymKi5_OT_0Wo9R_6Ut5f1bmjvo0mYo_izMeKX1hQ2UHISmW-H8wLN_4LaaY4-JlGnTE6PTJk/s320/Native+Land.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Native American Land</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There is a much larger problem at
work here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As horrible as the U.S.
Government’s treatment of the Native Americans has been, and apparently
continues to be, humanities treatment of our environment is of more
concern.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What the Lakota “Water
Protectors” have hopefully done is to bring more attention to the issue of how
we are treating the natural world that sustains us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What can be more important to humans than a
human supporting biosphere?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we
continue destroying the biome that sustains us with noxious chemicals than how
can we expect to have any type of future for our children?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What kind of future will they have if the
biosphere is full of cancer causing chemicals?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The one thing that the pollution of our environment has in common is
energy usage which is mostly fossil energy based.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nuclear is even worse because it produces
nuclear waste that we have no safe means of disposal for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nuclear generates waste that remains toxic to
our DNA for millions of years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXsMLu607mjGqP3ksdtSQhuc1VcZSQzT5Yp4rv0ebs7kbDYGy00K58ZzndhTWDh3PW96o_BiKQQIG0ReYaFeXUm31GeM-9Dt14OuRiHK9fZsCiz22tSMvoQ5TKsJeHfqm6Pq5fYREjd0Y/s1600/Bison+skulls+pile+to+be+used+for+fertilizer+%252C+1870.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXsMLu607mjGqP3ksdtSQhuc1VcZSQzT5Yp4rv0ebs7kbDYGy00K58ZzndhTWDh3PW96o_BiKQQIG0ReYaFeXUm31GeM-9Dt14OuRiHK9fZsCiz22tSMvoQ5TKsJeHfqm6Pq5fYREjd0Y/s320/Bison+skulls+pile+to+be+used+for+fertilizer+%252C+1870.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pile of Buffalo heads </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What are we to do about this
problem?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is there any solution?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our entire built environment, our entire way
of inhabiting our landscapes, the methods by which we get what we need from our
civilization to maintain ourselves is all 100% dependent on fossil energy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The renewable energy that we have can only be
a temporary measure at best, and will likely not be able to sustain all 7.2
billion of us in the manner we have become accustomed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Granted, a large percentage of that 7.2 billion
are not kept up anywhere near the manner even the poorest in the U.S. are
accustomed to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Solar panels require
fossil energy to come into existence, as does all of the other renewable energy
schemes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How are the materials necessary
for the creation of a solar panel or wind turbine acquired?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are acquired via fossil energy powered
machinery, and then they are shipped around and manufactured and packaged using
fossil energy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are maintained using
fossil energy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nuclear energy is no
different…well aside from the DNA damaging waste that is generated that has
filled the entire pacific ocean at this point thanks to Fukushima Daiichi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_ACZVy53XNJNdRoUq_6Ev02GotsVR6G7Okbaj9Pcc5e-52yXRB0Tf-zm73h-zKlbX53rA3hoXywja-GckjQhQwXXMh2EmmuMsH0-4VRZRm944LKATEb4G518JIxnT4k4eyQQ_CRg1bI/s1600/human+population.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="129" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_ACZVy53XNJNdRoUq_6Ev02GotsVR6G7Okbaj9Pcc5e-52yXRB0Tf-zm73h-zKlbX53rA3hoXywja-GckjQhQwXXMh2EmmuMsH0-4VRZRm944LKATEb4G518JIxnT4k4eyQQ_CRg1bI/s320/human+population.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Historic World Population</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Aside from the pollution that is
wrought on the environment via the extraction, transport, and refinement of
fossil energy there is also the end result of burning that energy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It adds carbon dioxide among other greenhouse
gasses to the atmosphere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Considering
that the world uses 35 billion barrels of oil per year we are creating a lot of
greenhouse gas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anthropogenic Global
Warming (AGW) is not a conspiracy theory, nor is Peak Oil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is really quite simple, and<a href="http://climatekids.nasa.gov/greenhouse-effect/" target="_blank"> I’m sure I couldget my 6 year old to understand how greenhouse gases work to raise the overall heat that is trapped in Earth’s atmosphere as a result of said gases</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only do we burn 35 billion barrels of oil
per year, but we are also steadily cutting down all of the trees to make more
room for yet more industrial monocultured agriculture in an attempt to make
more food for more people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More people
are really only possible due to the fossil energy in the first place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What makes industrial agriculture
possible?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fossil energy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The herbicides, fungicides, pesticides, and
fertilizers that we spray onto the ever decreasing top soil of our gargantuan
monocultured fields are all petroleum and natural gas derived chemicals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These chemicals then make their way to the
ocean where they create dead zones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Industry creates more pollution that makes its way into our water tables
and oceans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Due to all of the added
carbon, the oceans are acidifying and destroying fisheries and corals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our topsoil is being eroded and blown
away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet still the juggernaut of
industrial agriculture continues removing the trees that breath a mammal, and
therefore human, supporting biosphere out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We have created a positive feedback loop that is resulting in
devastation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of this is business as
usual (BAU).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What are we to do about it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Should we get in our cars and drive to
Standing Rock using the very petroleum energy that’s intended to travel along
the DAPL that we should stop?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>What is the
alternative to using fossil energy in our society?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can I support my family in this society
without using fossil energy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our cars,
our houses, our food, and our jobs all require the use of fossil energy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best solutions that we have come up with
are at best temporary and require fossil energy to begin with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is there any way out of this mess?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I have a landscaping business for many
reasons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s one of the few businesses
that one can still boot strap oneself into because it requires very little in
terms of capital to get started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
constitution is such that I am happiest working outside while self-employed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People pay good money and a decent living can
be made with landscaping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, like
all other jobs in our society it requires fossil fuels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It just happens to be more in your face and
obvious in my case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need a large truck
to pull around equipment on a trailer, and that means a large motor that uses a
lot of gasoline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of the machinery I
use uses gasoline, so I am all of the time filling up jerry cans and topping
off gas tanks during the course of my work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The truth is that I am no more, or less, dependent on petroleum than
anyone else in our society…including someone who may make their living
installing solar panels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Should we stop the Black Snake from
crossing the Missouri river to bring us another half million barrels of
petroleum per day for our gas tanks?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
we are to do that, than should we not have some type of plan in place to
sustain ourselves?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What options do we
have outside of the fossil fueled BAU?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
want clean water and healthy soil capable of producing healthy food for my
children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want healthy oceans teaming with
healthy fish to eat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It stands to reason
that I should stop contributing to the pollution that is removing those
things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can I do that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My children need a house to live in, and they
need food to eat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our new President is a
AGW and Peak Oil denier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s not going
to do anything in an attempt to fix any of this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s invested with his money in DAPL.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Permaculture has all of the answers to fix
all of these problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact,
Permaculture was created to address the worldview that created all of these
problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Permaculture is the answer to
all of these problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder if Trump
will help create a Department of Permaculture?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What do you think?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-9952743655618684792016-08-27T07:50:00.001-07:002016-08-28T18:54:58.646-07:00Cognizant Dissonance DisorderAlmost five years ago I quit my career as a medic for an EMS service to pursue Permaculture. The evidence that our way of life is going to collapse became overwhelming to me, and I was left with an urgent need to do something meaningful about it. To my estimation Permaculture was the only meaningful response (and still is). I was presented with a home in which I could live rent free. My wife's aunt offered up her home to us, and since she owned it outright she needed nothing from us financially. This enabled me to get off of the hamster wheel of working to pay debt and constantly coming up short. <div><br></div><div>For the next couple of years I spent all of my time digging in the Earth to grow food in a Permaculture manner. I trained in Permaculture. In fact, a week before tendering my resignation to the Matrix (which is what I called what I was doing with my life) I signed up for a program out of Asheville called "Permaculture In Action." This was hands on Permaculture training where we implemented permaculture design for home owners. I learned a lot about permaculture in that program. Two years later I received a PDC (permaculture design course certificate) from Spiral Ridge. In parting words of wisdom Cliff Davis rightly told us all that "you can't eat your PDC." </div><div><br></div><div>During all of this I was bitten by the bamboo bug. That resulted in Environmental Control being called to my residence (while I was away taking the intensive PDC training). Apparently the horse weed that I let grow up in the chicken run sent up a red flag that I was growing marijuana (I was not). While they were there they took the opportunity to tell my aunt-in-law that she needed to cut all of the bamboo down to 16 inches or be fined. They said it was a grass and therefore could be no taller than 16 inches...which is a complete joke, and come to find out not even true. That was the message I was presented with upon returning from the permaculture design course. I pulled onto the property and was instantly greeted by my hysterical aunt-in-law who had been fear mongered by the local environmental authorities. I was told I had to cut all of the bamboo down or she'd have to pay $500. I complied with Environmental Control by digging up all of my bamboo and putting it in pots. All but one of the varieites I had growing. I left Phyllostacys Aureasulcata f. Spectabilis in the ground. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">It was in it's first year that year. All of the bamboo I had planted was planted that year. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I left Spectabilis in the ground so that I could confront Environmental Control when they came. I was going to have my wife video record the event. I was going to have her record them telling me that I had to cut all of the canes down to 16 inches or that they would fine my aunt-in-law. I never got the chance to confront them because they came by the house unannounced when I was not home. However, they cleared us of any infractions and said "it's not illegal to have a garden but you have to keep it weeded." I immediately put all of my bamboo back in the ground where it has been ever since. This is the third year at "Kitsune Bamboo Nursery," which is the name I gave my bamboo operation here at "The Fox Den." Kitsune is Japanese for "fox."</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Permaculture and bamboo can sustain every single human need. Bamboo itself can sustain humanity. In fact, all bamboo wants is to be honored by man. It bends itself to us and beckons us to eat it's shoots, or to let them grow and then use the poles for whatever needs we have. A grove that is managed properly is actually much healthier than a grove that is left to natures devices. The quality of the bamboo wood becomes much better in a managed grove. It becomes harder and resists splitting better than it's wild counterpart. The problem with bamboo is that we do not have the culture for it here in America. Bamboo can provide for every human need, but if we don't know how to use it then it just becomes an invasive weed that monopolizes the landscape much like kudzu does. Kudzu is a similar story because it too is infinitely useful to our species. It's a food, a medicine, and a fiber for us to use, but since we do not use it it simply becomes a scourge in our landscapes. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I am interning with Keiji Oshima of Haiku Bamboo Nursery to learn the culture of bamboo. I have learned to split bamboo with a traditional Japanese blade, and I have learned to make and play Shakuhachi flute. Soon I'm going to start learning to weave with bamboo. Along with learning the culture I am also learning how to manage bamboo groves for all of the various purposes. A bamboo grove is managed based on what the purpose of that grove is. Will it be for shoots, for poles, for a nursery, or just for esthetics? I'm still learning the differences in management. Every week I go up the mountain to Hendersonville to apprentice with Keiji...to learn the culture of bamboo. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Now for the cognizant dissonance part of this blog. I have found the answers to address the future of energy scarcity that we are on the precipice of. I fear gasoline will not remain cheap for very much longer because it costs the energy companies more money to extract it than they can get in return on the market. They can't raise the prices to where they need to be because doing so crashes the economy, but they can't not raise prices because not doing so means losing money. If it costs more to retrieve and render useful the petroleum than is received for that effort than eventually that game has to come to an end. If it costs you a dollar to do something that you only get .50 cents for, and you are a business and not a government, than you are a losing business. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Secondly, all of this petroleum is going a long way to explain the rise in global CO2. Combine all of the emissions of noxious chemicals into our atmosphere with the removal of our forests and you've got a global disaster in the making. We are poisoning the biosphere that sustains us while at the same time cutting out it's organs. Basically we are commiting suicide as a species. Anthropogenic Global Warming is a real phenomenon. It's not some global conspiracy perpetuated by the hands of the global climate scientists. The fact of the matter is that effectively immediately we need to stop burning petroleum and begin addressing our climate problems. Bamboo is more than ready to address those problems. Bamboo takes up more CO2 than trees do. Bamboo grows more biomass at a faster rate than trees do. If taken seriously I believe that bamboo can save us and fix our climate problems. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">We need to be the change we want to see in our world. I believe that to be true. But what I've learned over the last few years is that you have to afford to be the change, and nobody can afford it. Which is why I have ended up as an entrepreneur with my own landscaping business, Ancient Earth Landscaping. Ancient Earth started off as Ancient Earth Design which was a permaculture business that a friend of mine and I started after Permaculture In Action. For a while it seemed that we were going to be a success and then for some reason clients didn't have the money, and new clients stopped showing up. My business parnter got tired of the struggle and went back to teaching. I changed the name to Ancient Earth Landscaping (AEL) and kept chugging along. </span></div><div><br></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">The point of business is to make money. I did manage to find a couple of clients here in the Upstate of SC, and I made some money with permaculture design as AEL. However, what was paying the bills for me was conventional landscape maintenance. People don't pay for permaculture, but they pay lots of money to have their grass and shrubbery cut. They pay even more money when nature gets out of hand and needs to be put back in a box. AEL has becomes a phenomenal success. I am at a place where I can no longer take on new clients because I can barely keep up with the clients I have. I'm looking to hire help, but I can't because I need every dollar I can get. In the South, when winter arrives, my business tanks. That means I have to save for a three to four month period where I will not be making much money at all. It is possible to make money in landscaping during the winter, but there is no guarantee. Cutting grass is what sustains the landscape maintenance business because it relentlessly grows and therefore must be maintained. If you don't cut your grass Environmental Control will show up and fine you $500. My business is basically mandated by local ordinance. </font></div><div><br></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">There are a lot of problems with what I have become. I drive around using a 5.7 L hemi to pull a trailer full of engines and gasoline. I use the power in that gasoline to violently control nature six days a week. I try to not work on the weekends but lately I've had to in order to keep my clients satisfied with the services I provide. I use weed eaters, hedge trimmers, back pack blowers, lawn mowers, a wood chipper, a chain saw, and other small engines to do my job. I am contributing to all of the problems that I sought to address when I resigned from the Matrix. I pollute the atmosphere more now than I ever have. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">The question I have asked myself over and over again is "why would a Druid ride a lawn mower?" A Druid is the last person who should be riding a lawn mower for an entire army of reasons. On the one hand I have the belief that nature is sacred, and that belief defines my spiritual practice and identity. On the other I pollute and destroy nature everyday. Why? The answer is very simple. The world of man requires me to make money. Money is the problem. I have a wife and children, and even without having to pay rent or a mortgage I still need money. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Our civilization, the one that is teetering on the verge of collapse, requires me to make money. That is what plugs us all into the Matrix. I would love to spend all of my time farming bamboo, crafting with bamboo, and sustaining my needs with bamboo (and permaculture). In order to do that I need land to do it on, and unfortunately the world of man constantly requires that I be making money. Money doesn't care about the environment. Money doesn't care about anything. It's a bit like our ego is. It's self perpetuating for the purposes of self perpetuation. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">And so I persist in this state of cognizant disonance. I'm constantly yearning to awaken from this contradictory state of existence that is my daily life. I am forced into hypocrisy to sustain myself and my family. If I put all of the engines down and stop polluting and destroying that which is sacred than I lose my ability to make money. If I hold onto those engines and continue successfully making a lot of money than I continue contributing to all of our real problems. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">It seems there is no way to win. We are hopelessly left twisting in the winds of the imploding world of man that we all create everyday. We are all guilty. I'm sure of one thing. Petroleum is a limited resource that will not be replaced by anything on Earth, or in outer space. Petroleum is the fuel that enables our current global civilization. We literally eat petroleum. We chose the wrong substance to depend on, and now we are hopelessly addicted and in denial. This losing game that we are all playing is bound to come to an end. Until then...I guess we just keep playing. It's a dog eat dog world. I intend to win, and I've gotten just old enough to shed the majority of the idealism that has always lurked in my mind. </font><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">In the words of Cage The Elephant "I've got bills to pay and mouths to feed and ain't nothin' in this world for free." </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I suppose our saving grace is that there is a lot of beauty in the world. The best we can do is to revel in that beauty. Who knows, maybe a miracle will happen. Maybe Jesus will come back and save us from ourselves. In the meantime the Buddha is hear to point the way to salvation here and now. He's pointing at a bamboo grove...at least when I look at him that's what he's pointing at. I seek refuge in the bamboo that resides in nature. After Hiroshima and Nagasaki destroyed everything on the surface, bamboo was the first life form to return. There is much hope in bamboo. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, 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HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-19476723931282507372016-03-06T08:04:00.000-08:002016-03-06T08:25:44.546-08:00Ten Minutes Hate<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It seems to me that we’ve arrived at a moment in our history
as a country where certain things are no longer being kept hidden in the closet
of our collective delusions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The light
of clarity is shinning brightly on our political process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks to Donald Trump it should now be clear
to any American still capable of simple thought processes that something has
gone terribly wrong with our country, and especially with political
discourse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To call what is happening
during the presidential debates anything resembling a debate is to participate in
the worst kind of Newspeak imaginable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What does penis size have to do with the appropriateness of a
presidential candidate?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the flip
side, it appears that the lack of a penis also apparently makes you a good
contender.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is to say that the two choices
it appears we will have for our next POTUS think that their genitals qualify
them to lead the global death circus that we have become.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Sadly it seems they are correct in their simple analysis. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Donald Trump, Captain “you’re fired while I go bankrupt for
the fifth time” is a serious presidential contender?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s keep in mind that his fifth bankruptcy
will likely occur while he’s the damn president of our country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s going to run this country like a
business, which I’ll admit is appropriate due to the fact that it is a business
that’s run by the Corporatocracy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
fact that it’s appropriate to think of the president as a business man is
telling in and of itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Running the
greatest country in the world as a business was not what the founding fathers
had in mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d really like to know
what Thomas Jefferson or Pain would have to say about Donald Trump (or Hillary…which
I’ll get to next) as president.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll
admit that being a good business man definitely adds to the portfolio of a good
presidential candidate, but there are more skills necessary than just your
ability to make money (or balance a budget).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In Trumps case, he’s clearly not a good business man, and I’ll submit
his four bankruptcies as evidence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What
does that leave by way of qualification for Trump as POTUS?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s right, his penis size, well that and
his porn star trophy wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> H</span>e’s going
to build a wall around the United States and kick all of the brown people
out?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nobody will have health care under
Trump except for the 1%.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Within weeks he’ll
piss somebody like Putin off and we’ll be facing another nuclear holocaust with
Russia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suppose the one good thing
about Trump is that he’s outing the dark, displaced, disgruntled, bigoted, and
xenophobic American underbelly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trump
supporters seem exceptionally odious to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As horrible as it is to admit, Trump is the perfect president for this
time in the history of our country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At
least everything will be out in the open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Trump represents what the United States has truly become.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re a narcissistic and greedy consumer
society that cares for nothing but our own interest, and the entire world knows
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, the entire world minus
ourselves because Americans seem to have no idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg9Ri_ZjtfQlTqJIMDwiTsqsMkfI_ZuAMxKw8eafNVG1OsNt5I92fA6EdRNEMN5rH_K7OYj5l0dYq9QTpjri0rNcVTGZHhBJEJWapgQVBHFcTCQQH0IwEhE9GBH9tuTqrbMFf88LZ7FVU/s1600/Trumps+wife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg9Ri_ZjtfQlTqJIMDwiTsqsMkfI_ZuAMxKw8eafNVG1OsNt5I92fA6EdRNEMN5rH_K7OYj5l0dYq9QTpjri0rNcVTGZHhBJEJWapgQVBHFcTCQQH0IwEhE9GBH9tuTqrbMFf88LZ7FVU/s1600/Trumps+wife.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Melania Trump, the next first lady? </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What about Hillary?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, have we all forgotten about what her husband did while he was president?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have not forgotten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I did not have sexual relations with that
women.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s right, Clinton got his
knob slobbed in the oval office by an intern, Monica Lewenski.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not that this was an exceptionally horrible
thing, or even close to the worst thing Clinton did to our country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll submit NAFTA for the worst thing he
did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The North American Fair Trade
Agreement was anything but fair, but then the political process is all about
double think and Newspeak, which is to say that the opposite of what is said is
actually the truth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Love is Hate,” and “freedom
is slavery” and whatnot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Granted, her
husband did these things, but does that exonerate her?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe we can exonerate her from these things,
but the fact remains that our president will be the first first lady as
president to have been a first lady while her presidential husband got a
televised blow job in the oval office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Again, I suppose the truth is that this makes her more than fitting to
be the next president.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That way we can
all point to the great first female president with pride, and we can say to the
world “she stood proud and tall while adulterous Bill got his pole hummed on.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seriously, this is okay America?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4tdGjEna6ElbfPQDUmvXj-8JG4Oi6of97eW_mC_9b-1oPvvzmdt7DTmYxapi77mF83-CjX1r3-7ZQTtG2CT0soBVBi7-LGTzD4OmuzyhPXJRZpv8xetb4uPzcOPl8ZsuOChAeYpqdlI/s1600/Monica.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4tdGjEna6ElbfPQDUmvXj-8JG4Oi6of97eW_mC_9b-1oPvvzmdt7DTmYxapi77mF83-CjX1r3-7ZQTtG2CT0soBVBi7-LGTzD4OmuzyhPXJRZpv8xetb4uPzcOPl8ZsuOChAeYpqdlI/s1600/Monica.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now, keep in mind that this is all happening a midst one of
the best presidential candidates we’ve had in a long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bernie Sanders would make an excellent
president (not that he’s got a chance in hell).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He want’s universal healthcare, a decent minimum wage, and he’d finally
legalize cannabis (which is pretty much a cure for all of our health and
economic problems).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, I’d say he’s
worth voting for just to get rid of Wealthcare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We’re the only industrialized nation in the world that does not have
universal healthcare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why do you think
that is?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Further, why do you think the
rest of the industrialized world has universal healthcare?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is it because it’s such a bad idea?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If so, it seems there would be another industrialized country
without it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don’t have universal
healthcare because “healthcare” in our country is about making money, not about
caring for people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m more than
qualified with my opinion on this matter having worked as a medic for 8 years
in our wealthcare system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw the
change that happened around about 2009 that is epitomized in our switch from “patients”
to “customers.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why would somebody about
to die in the back of an ambulance be a customer?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll tell you why, because of the revenue
that said customer brings in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
pharmaceutical companies write the textbooks that our doctors study in medical
school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why is that? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I’ll tell you money, money, and money is
why.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Cannabinoids cure cancer and can be grown next to your
dandelions (pending you stop poisoning them with biocides to keep your lawn “weed”
free).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Legalizing marijuana would mean the cure for
cancer could be grown in your lawn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do
you know how much money goes into the “cure” for cancer?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cure being a strategy of poisoning the
entire human body in the hopes that the cancer dies before you do, along with
massive doses of DNA destroying radiation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When I was a nuclear engineer on an aircraft carrier I had to wear a
Thermo Luminescent Dosimeter to make sure that I did not get more than 5 rem of
exposure per year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why? Because too much
radiation kills you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last thing the
powers that be want is to allow us to cure ourselves with weeds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is no money in the cure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As far as the decent minimum wages goes…well that one is
beyond a pipe dream (and not the pipe you use for smoking cannabis).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All raising the minimum wage would do would
be to ensure that small business owners (like myself) would never be able to
stay solvent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Within a year of raising
the minimum wage to 15 dollars there would be no small businesses left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s hard enough to stay solvent as a
business and I have no employees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
just me running my business as an owner operator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t even afford to pay somebody $10 per
hour right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still, Bernie’s idea is
at least morally correct.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I agree that
somebody working 40 hours per week should be able to at least pay all of their
bills without using credit cards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why is
it that during this election we have two of the worst presidential candidates
imaginable along with one that actually makes a lot of sense but has no chance
of becoming president?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It sort of makes
me angry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s as if they are rubbing it
in, and I suppose it’s as if because it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You want to know the truth about all of this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The truth is that we have a Corporatocracy
that runs the majority of the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That is, we have multi-national corporations who recognize no lines on a
map, no country, and who care about nothing but profit to ensure excessive
fiscal bonuses for the 1%.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They will cut
the last tree down and continue to poison the only planet that we have, and
nothing is going to stop them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None of
this is news, or at least it shouldn’t be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our world is in a bad way right now, and it is the world that sustains
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have become digitalized
automatons contented by Facebook and entertaining violence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Contented by fukitol, alcohol, factory slave
made gidgets, and monoculture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are a
monoculture of everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our medicine,
our food, our society, it’s become a monoculture, or as I like to call it an “anti-culture.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Culture is mostly about diversity, which is
also mostly what nature is about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
only diversity we have is a man made chemical diversity along with millions of entertainment options on our devices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can chose between a plethora of life
killing chemicals for our food and our medicine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Read the ingredients to any packaged food you
can buy at a big box store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I promise of
the 50 or so words you read none will be recognized as food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Real food mostly has one ingredient.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An apple for instance, it’s just an apple,
which is food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A list of man made and
mostly petroleum chemicals in a petroleum bag is not food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Here we are, on the precipice of completely destroying our
biosphere and most of the life in it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Here we are, and Trump or Hillary will be our next president.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t matter what your opinion is where
pertains to the next global corporate leader.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What we will have in 2017, with our next president, will be more of the
same program.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That program is more
poison for us and more money for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That program is unsustainable for us and for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s my opinion that the only hope we have
can be found in the nature we have left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Nature is what sustains us, not the president, or lines on a map.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My country is the human race, and our
politics have become a bread and circus meant to distract us and entertain
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The truth is that Trump and Hillary
are destroying our planet, and we are letting them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have little hope to offer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the truth, and it’s not kind, but it
is, and the only hope we have is that we begin looking at it for what it is and
not for what we would like it to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
so doing, the seed for positive and life supporting change can be found.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we can collectively agree that business as
usual is killing us than maybe we can agree that we should change it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is our only hope, and it’s the only
chance of changing the horror represented by our presidential candidates.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope that Bernie can win because I want to
believe we can change, but I happen to have no faith in the political
process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We might as well start pledging
allegiance to the Corporatocracy…I’ll see you at the ten minutes hate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.dailymotion.com/embed/video/x3vv9zo" width="480"></iframe><br />
<a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x3vv9zo_donald-trump-made-claims-about-his-penis-size-during-debate_news" target="_blank">Donald Trump Made Claims About His Penis Size...</a> <i>by <a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/wochit" target="_blank">wochit</a></i>Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-24099446307082478782015-10-10T12:07:00.001-07:002015-10-10T14:50:45.089-07:00Kitsune Bamboo Nursery<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit4K_jKj0R18U6rvVzSc_RAIE88ROH_HXkpVqqWANWqdfsRst0ZkBp3GllO6Gtots-nYKvkFeT4qjC1N690XYpefEkhdnCx5pDR5RiUkidsC8JZz_IhUaLBVXzGz95A0TnQhhms2kITbI/s640/blogger-image-1115487646.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit4K_jKj0R18U6rvVzSc_RAIE88ROH_HXkpVqqWANWqdfsRst0ZkBp3GllO6Gtots-nYKvkFeT4qjC1N690XYpefEkhdnCx5pDR5RiUkidsC8JZz_IhUaLBVXzGz95A0TnQhhms2kITbI/s640/blogger-image-1115487646.jpg" /></a></div>
This is the first Epiphany Now post to emmerge from my space phone blogger app bluetooth keyboard device. I hope all goes well, and the many batteries it requies stay charged long enough to complete this communication (although currently I could just plug in and recharge but that doesn't sound as dramatic). I plan to write much more here at Epiphany Now, but for now I'm just unveiling some intention into the digital cloud. <br />
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Shortly after dropping out of the Matrix I moved to my current residence. My intention for my new unplugged lifestyle was to learn Permaculture and to create a garden of eatin' into the landscape. I was following my bliss (and still am) and activeily writing the story of my destiny. My words shapped the land and fostered the birth of an ecologically healthy landscape filled with intentional spiritual energy and meaning. Essentially I've created a Druid food forrest painted in the Ogam ( the Ogam, or Ogham, is a celtic tree alphabet I happen to study). </div>
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I bet I sound crazy as a shit house rat to a lot of people reading these words. I don't care really what I sound like. I'm authentically on fire and refuse to apologize for it. </div>
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Anyways, when I moved here I dubbed my abode, outside of the actual house, "The Fox Den." I mostly live outside. Being that I'm domesticated I am forced to spend time indoors, but I am constantly attempting to minimize that time. I blame it on Aspergers, at least to use the modern psychiatric explanation for my irregularities (than's an entire other bag of worms). I'm a shaman at heart, and I have a theory that Aspergers may be displaced shamans, displaced by suburban sprawl and cookie cutter jobs complete with required behavior patterns. It may be that I'm not an aspie, but a shaman, and it just so happens that the diagnosis for Aspergers overlaps qualities of a shaman. Whatever the case, I have a very strong need to minimize my interaction with people. I'm perfectly fine one on one, however, which would make sense following my shaman theory. </div>
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I want to make it clear that I have no desire to fill some egoic need to be special. I'm no more, or less special, than you or anybody else. However, I am fundamentally different, and science explains that via a neurological difference...so be it. </div>
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Kitsune is the Japanesse word for a fox, but it has strong mystical and magical associations in Japanese folklore culture as well (if you want an interesting read on the subject than I'd reccommend the wiki article for Kitsune). When I moved here, and essentially devoted my life to Permaculture and Druidry, I had just found the fox to be a spirit animal that was following me around. I resonated with fox, and so embraced that friendship and guidance that was being offered. </div>
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Then the Bamboo Monster revealed itself to me. I fell in love with that monster and was unable to resist the overwhelming need to suddenly begin digging up bamboo to plant it at the Fox Den. Bamboo even began showing up at the Fox Den in pots due to a serrendipitous friendship that started one magical day in the woods at a near by park. I have since began an internship with Keiji Oshima of Haiku Bamboo Nursery. He has been teaching me everything he thinks I'm ready to learn about bamboo. I am interested in the culture of bamboo and not just the growing of it. Bamboo is very familiar to the shaman in me, and I know that is because I have known bamboo intimately before, just as I have known Kitsune. </div>
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Therefore, to honor the relationship that I have with fox, bamboo, and Japanesse culture, I have decided to dub this bamboo nursery (with very heavy Permaculture overtones) Kitsune Bamboo Nursery. To kick off the declaration I figured that I would share pictures of all the characters of bamboo that reside here. I also want to publicly decree that the Bamboo Monster regurlarly hangs out here at Kitsune, but don't worry because he's a nice, and useful monster. </div>
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Here at Kitsune Bamboo Nursery we have 11 varieites of bamboo (not counting two which we're trying to propagate rhizomally which are Moso, and Makinoi). Two of those varieties are in pots only, they are Green Onion, and Koi. Currently we have only Buddha Belly and Medake for sale, however next fall we will have several other varieties for sale. Within four years all of our varieities will be for sale, hopefully. I'd also like to note that I plan to have only four varieties growing at this site. We will be moving bamboos to our Rock HIll property as they grow and we run out of room. Kitsune Bamboo is already expanding habitate for the Bamboo Monster to inhabit. </div>
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The picture below is a fall Madake shoot (phyllostachys bambusoides), planted August 2015, given to KBN (Kitsune Bamboo Nursery) by HBN (Haiku Bamboo Nursery) and showing how bamboo plays with water. The presence of morning dew on bamboo auricles is considered a sign of good health. This, however, is rain water.<br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The same Madake plant showing rhizomal character. Phyllostachys like to snake in and out of the ground. I'm performing an experient with this rhizome. If you look closely at the left hand sid eof the picture you can barely see a rhizome leaf about to hit that rock. I placed that rock there, and one under it in the ground, to study what the rhizome will due upon encontering it. It appears that it is already aware of the rock and is simply going to go up and over it...but I'll see as time moves forward. </span></div>
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Same Madake plant with a gift given to Ayden Zen by Stefani Oshima at the final intern day of the 2015 season. Madake is one of the two most useful bamboos (according to Japanesse Culture, the other is Medake featured later). Madake is a timber bamboo capable of 72 foot tall canes that are 6 inches in diameter. Madake is very hard and it grows straight. It's great for building structures or for splitting and weaving. Madake is my favorite bamboo because it's the most useful to humans. It's also used to make flutes (which Keiji Oshima makes and sales). <br />
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Koi (phyllostachy aurea 'Koi'<br />
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Some potted Buddha belly (phyllostachys Aurea). This was the first bamboo plant I ever dug up. Buddha Belly is valued due to its ornamental appeal for crafts because of it's compressed internodes. <br />
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Some more Buddha Belly, in the ground, with Hairy Vetch planted as a nitrogen fixing cover crop. I'm trying to keep the bermuda at bay. <br />
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Medake (Pleioblastus simonii) purchased at HBN and planted here spring of 2015. Medake and Madake are considered the most useful bamboos in Japan, and with good reason. <br />
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This is Phyllostachys Vivax which I propagated rhizomally. The rhizomes were given to me by Gary McPhee (the serendipitous friend I met at the park)<br />
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This is fall growth. Here you can see how beautiful this variety of Vivax is. It's a timber bamboo that is celebrated for it's beauty. It's wood is not very hard and often breaks due to the weight of ice in the winter. <br />
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Phyllostachys Aureosulcata f. Spectabalis. This bamboo has the most character and a lot of beauty in my opinion. It has variagation on the leafs like Koi, it geniculates (the can zig zags as it finishes the growth of the last couple of internodes), it changes colors in the sun, and it has the green sulcus with bright yellow canes. It truly is a spectacular site to behold, but it is not a very useful bamboo...just beautiful. <br />
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Showing the green sulcus of Spectabilis<br />
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Another timber bamboo I propagated early spring of 2015. This is Phyllostachys Nigra Boryana, also known as snake skin bamboo. Right now it's a sleeping giant capable of 60 foot canes that are 4 inches in diameter. <br />
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Bamboo island with two species of bamboo. <br />
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This is Phyllostachy Nigra Henon. This is another bamboo that is considered to be one of the most beautiful, especially in Japan. This is the original "Nigra," although it does not have black culms. It's a very useful bamboo.<br />
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Close up of a Henon culm showing how it plays with slight color variations. <br />
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Psuedosasa Japonica, or Arrow bamboo, so called because the Japanesse used to make arrows with it due to it's straight growth and perfect diameter for crafting arrows. It also makes a very effective screen for making neighbors dissappear. <br />
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This is yet another planting of Buddha Belly with some new growth. This growth is from the last month. <br />
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Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-24221086926153399832015-10-05T07:03:00.000-07:002015-10-05T07:16:43.587-07:00Plugged Back In<br />
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After five years of resistance I'm back on Face Palm. I blogged about the evils of Face Palm when I deleted my original account, you can read about that <a href="http://emtmusings.blogspot.com/2011/08/revolutionary-act.html" target="_blank">here</a>. I still agree with everything I wrote in that essay, but becoming a business owner has necessitated the removal of some idealism. I got tired of losing business on Thumbtack because I couldn't respond quickly unless I was home with access to our laptop. Often times people will select the first professional that contacts them (I know, I've been that professional several times). We were also commonly receiving texts that said "no content," and I got tired of explaining to potential clients that I had an alleged dumb phone and all I got was "no content" rather than a text they had spent their time typing. Several times they were long texts and I suspect that was the reason my alleged dumb phone couldn't handle it. Still we fought on with our obsolete ways. <br />
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Finally Wendy was off shooting a wedding and the phone went missing. We decided we'd better just accept the fact that we needed smart phones, and so off to Sprint Wendy went to progress us into the 21st century. I didn't go, but apparently the entire staff circled around my alleged dumb phone and made noises of amazement while they took turns passing around the alleged dumb phone marvel (it even had a touch screen, but we had fixed the phones so that they would not connect to the internet...it was a rumor touch from 2010). They gave us two iphone 6's to replace our obsolescence. The next day my laptop bit the bullet for the final time. My laptop was a Toshiba Satellite that I bought in 2007. I had the hard drive replaced and had to bring it in to the computer geek many times to have it fixed. However, seeing as how an iphone is a computer, I found that by simply ordering a blue tooth keyboard for the iphone, along with an iphone stand, I could side step even needing a laptop.<br />
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Still, I resisted Face Palm. I tried running my business Face Palm page, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AncientEarthLandscaping?ref=hl" target="_blank">Ancient Earth Landscaping </a>, using my wife's FB account on my phone, but that resulted in me posting to her page. We couldn't figure out how I could run my page using her account on my phone, and it was just adding frustration to her life attempting to figure it out. I thought about it and realized that I really had no leg to stand on where opposition to FB was concerned. I had plugged back in, and that was necessitated by my need to run a business FB account. You can't have just a business account. All my opposition was doing was making my wife's life more complicated. It was rapidly shaping up to my return to FB, and so here I am, completely plugged back in. <br />
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I enjoy being able to listen to Spotify with blue tooth headphones anywhere I go. The CD player in my truck stopped working years ago, so up till now I've been at the mercy of the radio. I haven't listened to the radio in my truck since I got my iphone. I have a camera, a video recorder, a calendar, a virtual jukebox, and the apps keep piling up (so far it's Thumbtack, Spotify, Weather, Blogger, Wikipedia, youtube, FB, and yes even Angry Birds). It's great except for when I imagine myself holding that damn "phone" staring into the virtual world that I've detested for so long. My world is the green world of plants and soil, not the virtual world of Face Palm and Instagram, except for the fact that these virtual places are part of my world now. I'm embracing this inherent hypocrisy. What am I to do other than accept it? <br />
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What is a reason to resist any longer? The world went and got virtual, at least where people are concerned. Now Wendy and I can lay in bed and be blissfully alone together in the evening (we have a healthy love life, but you know what I mean). As far as privacy is concerned, what of it? I'm amazed at how frazzled so many facepalmer's seem to be about the privacy issue with Face Palm. What privacy? Maybe some of my readers haven't heard about a federal agency called the "National Security Agency," or NSA, and the city they have in the desert that is five times the size of Washington DC dedicated to the surveillance of every communication of all stripes in the good ole Fascist States of America. Every phone call, text, Face Palm message, email, and squeaky fart you let out is recorded and pigeon holed into your communication record at the NSA. You can read about this fact <a href="http://www.wired.com/2012/03/ff_nsadatacenter/" target="_blank">here</a>. Here is a quick excerpt from the linked article:<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Under construction by contractors with top-secret clearances, the
blandly named Utah Data Center is being built for the National Security
Agency. A project of immense secrecy, it is the final piece in a complex
puzzle assembled over the past decade. Its purpose: to intercept,
decipher, analyze, and store vast swaths of the world’s communications
as they zap down from satellites and zip through the underground and
undersea cables of international, foreign, and domestic networks. The
heavily fortified $2 billion center should be up and running in
September 2013. Flowing through its servers and routers and stored in
near-bottomless databases will be all forms of communication, including
the complete contents of private emails, cell phone calls, and Google
searches, as well as all sorts of personal data trails—parking receipts,
travel itineraries, bookstore purchases, and other digital “pocket
litter.” It is, in some measure, the realization of the “total
information awareness” program created during the first term of the Bush
administration—an effort that was killed by Congress in 2003 after it
caused an outcry over its potential for invading Americans’ privacy.</blockquote>
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So, if you are upset about privacy on Face Palm than you obviously have not been paying attention. Of course there is the Patriot Act to consider. If you don't know, that's the legislation that was enacted day's after 9/11 that makes it legal for our government to make you disappear and tell nobody about it. You'll never be seen or heard from again and this is all legal. They just have to suspect that you are a terrorist and away you disappear. So if you don't want to have your privacy trampled on than you should no longer communicate with any kind of device. Don't talk on a land line, don't use a cell phone, and don't use the internet under any capacity because even your google searches are being recorded by the NSA. This brings me to the final issue I'll be tackling in this essay...that's right, gun control (and now for my promised trick where I make some Face Palm friends disappear).<br />
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In my opinion "gun control" is where you slow your breathing, keep both eyes open as you look through your iron sites (or scope), calm your nerves, and finally slowly exhale as you gently pull back on the trigger knowing that your aim is true. I am not a violent person. In fact, I don't believe in violence. When I was training in Nihon Ghoshin Aikido my Sensei first taught me how to not fight. He taught me how to use my words to diffuse any aggression and how to not get cornered and assure an escape route if at all possible. Then he taught me how to use the energy of my attacker against him to cause controlled pain via joint locks and pressure points to further convince him that violence was not the answer. Then he taught me how to kill with extreme prejudice and efficiency using my attackers weapon. That's when I stopped training having achieved Ni Kyu or student instructor with all 50 techniques in the art and joined the Navy.<br />
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Firstly I'm not going to surrender my guns because I like them. Occasionally I put venison on the table for my family to eat by hunting with my riffle. This is 100% organic meat, and it's as organic as meat gets being that the animal has eaten from the wilderness it's entire life. I could do this with a bow and arrow, but I don't have a bow and arrow right now. I have guns. Secondly all disarming the populace would do is to ensure that only our tyrannical government and criminals would have guns. Law abiding citizens would be the only people without guns. The hunting industry in the U.S. is a billion dollar industry and so removing guns would remove a lot of jobs from our atrophying economy. If citizens don't need guns than why do police need guns? Why does the military need guns? Would the proponents of "gun control" agree that the military and police should surrender their guns? I think not. The fact of the matter is that guns exist, and so bad people have guns, and therefore I need guns. If I could hockity pockety wokity whack every gun off of the planet I would do so, and I would happily hunt for my venison with bow and arrow, but I, nor anybody else on this side of mortal, have that ability.<br />
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Now for the school shootings, isn't this a bit like the terrorist bogey man? You can't fight terrorism because terrorism resides in the black heart of the terrorist. At any moment anybody can decide to be a terrorist, just as any kid can decide to go to school and start killing. Let us imagine for a moment that all guns are completely eradicated from the Earth, even the world's military's don't have guns any longer. Now some high schooler that's all bent out of shape because daddy left years ago and mommy has taken to prostitution to put food on the table and pay bills. She's an alcoholic and on cussitol to cope leaving her virtually paralyzed to care for our bent high schooler. On top of all of this he can't get a girlfriend to save his life, and nobody wants to be friends with him because he has bad hygiene and his breath constantly stinks. He's also socially awkward. Well he's had enough of this shit and decides he wants to die, but before he goes he wants to release his rage on the peers that have caused him so much pain. He acquires a Samurai sword and spends weeks getting it as sharp as possible. He goes to school one day and just as he enters the main hall minutes before the bell rings, he pulls out the sword and starts decapitating heads. How many heads do you think he could decapitate before being stopped by the police? Remember, there are no longer any guns, so I guess the local law enforcement would have to taser him? <br />
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Now, before you delete me from your Face Palm friend list, let me apologize for being so crass and brazen with making my point. I am an Aspie after all, and I can relate to the feelings of the imagined high schooler I just created. My father left when I was four and I have always been slightly awkward socially. I was lucky enough to have the unconditional love of a beautiful mother (and I still do), and I was also able to find romantic love as a teenager, and I had a few friends to boot. I'm not trying to make lite of the recent school shootings, or any school shooting for that matter. I feel for all of the people caught up in these tragedies, but I also know that our government regularly kills innocent civilians with drones and that they drop bombs on hospitals, mosques, and red cross centers (I was on the USS Carl Vinson during Operation Enduring Freedom and I know this first hand). There is no shortage of tragedies in our imperfect world. Removing guns will accomplish nothing except making it easier for criminals to commit crime. Guns or no, it's not guns that kill it's people. Now go ahead and hit delete. Your delusions will not stop me from telling the truth. <br />
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Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-13208897226956554982015-06-23T16:13:00.001-07:002015-06-23T16:18:23.773-07:00American Anti-culture: A lament<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
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Every Friday I drive up the mountain to intern with Keiji Oshima.
He's teaching me about bamboo. Some days the lesson is to sit in a
Sasa Veitchi patch and pull weeds, and on others it's learning the
art of splitting bamboo for the purposes of weaving it into baskets.
I'm learning how to farm bamboo for the health of the grove. The
goal is to produce quality bamboo canes for craft and the table.
Bamboo is a way of life that creates a culture. In the United States
we don't have a culture, and I'm pretty sure we don't want one.
There are houses that are lived in on this Earth that are made up
entirely of bamboo. That means you can literally live in bamboo, and
you can eat it with utensils made of it while you sit in a bamboo
chair at a bamboo table in a bamboo house...bamboo! You can do all
of that with wood as well, but wood can't grow 47 inches in 24 hours
like Phyllostachy Edulis (moso) can, and good luck trying to eat
wood. Bamboo has the highest protein count of any vegetable, but
this is not an essay about bamboo, it's more a lament about the
sucking void of an anti-culture that I live in. Quite simply this is
therapy for me. Read on at your own emotional risk because I've got
no warm fuzzies for you about the future.
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In my yard I have a diverse array of food growing: apple, peach,
cherry, black locust, hazelnut, pomegranate, bamboo, grapevine, black
berry, raspberry, strawberry, blueberry, corn, tomatoes, peppers,
potatoes, gourds, all manner of cucurbit, peas, beans, herbs,
chickens, and others. Diversity is my main tactic. There's also
swales, hugelkulture, key hole gardens, cob, and vernal pools. I've
done the best job I can designing and installing permaculture into
this yard. I don't even like calling it a yard any longer because
that word doesn't honor the sweat, blood, thought, emotion, and
intentionality I've put into the food forest that is my "yard."
A yard is something that is terrorized by mechanical tyranny and
synthetic chemicals every other week. The goal of this anti-culture
way of thinking is to somehow control nature, to keep it in straight
lines and caged in a delusion of the collective human mind. We have
dominion over a collapsing way of life contained in a biosphere that
is becoming hostile to life. I'm not going to now launch into a list
of all the problems our world is facing right now. This would be a
good point in the essay to do so, but there are plenty of blogs in
the doomosphere that can supply that list for you. The list of food
growing in my "yard" is the only list you'll find in this
particular rant.
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The great irony of my life is that when I'm not permaculturing in my
yard I'm riding a lawn mower and operating a weed eather, and yes I
even spray round up from time to time. Nobody wants to pay me for my
permaculture knowledge in this anti-culture, but they will gladly pay
me to keep nature in line in their yards. All of that food growing
in my yard and I still shop at costco. Regardless of my hyperactive
distaste of hypocrisy it seems I'm unable to help myself from
participating in it. Why do I buy and spray Monsanto round up and
shop at Costco? Because I live in an anti-culture. I get paid to
spray round up, not plant fruit trees (or god forbid, bamboo), and I
shop at Costco because it's the cheapest way to feed two young boys.
I'm not operating under the fantasy that paying 30% more for
"organic" food is going to make my boys much healthier or
save anything from my species. The air we breath is toxic and there
are over 200 synthetic chemicals in the human body, and I'm supposed
to believe that shopping at the local organic box store is going to
keep me and my family more healthy!
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I go to work and sweat...a lot. It's very hot and humid in the
American South. After each job I'll take my T-shirt off and wring
out a couple hundred cc's of sweat. I'll drink over a gallon of
water in a day and I might pee once. I work very hard for the money
I make, and so decisions like shop at costco and save a lot of money,
or shop at Organic Box Store and piss my money away like I do all
that water I drink, aren't really decisions at all...just common
sense. I've got more food growing in my yard than probably 99% of
the average home owner and yet I'm still dependent on Costco to
supply the bulk of my families calories. Permaculture doesn't work
without real community, and it damn sure doesn't work in an American
anti-culture. It requires whole communities of people to all be
concerned with food, medicine, and material cultivation. My neighbor
tills his "garden spot" and then applies petrochemicals to
it, and down the road there are 1000's of peach trees all in a line
that get sprayed copiously all of the time. Without those
petrochemicals my neighbor, and that atrocity of a "peach
orchard" down the road, would all learn the hard way what
petroleum dependency has done to our anti-culture.
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I'm being forced to make up a culture. I've had no initiation into
adulthood, unless you count bombing Afghanistan from the bowels of an
aircraft carrier for control of the worlds heroine and petroleum as
an initiation. I have no elders to look up to. My father has
forsaken me and my family on account of arrogant pride. My mother
does the best that she can, but she's got no idea either
really...well she's got Jesus at least. I have no grandparents left.
My wife is even worse off. Her daddy put a 30 aught 6 in his mouth
a year before I met her, and her mother is an out of control
narcissists that does more harm than good wherever she goes. She has
no surviving grandparents either, and what did the whole lot teach us
about our world and how we should make our way in it? Our way of
life is to consume for profit sake while terrorizing resource rich
countries with weapons of mass destruction, and that pretty much
sums up America and it's grand ordeals about inalienable rights and
freedom. I suppose we have a culture of "lawn care." If
you're reading this during the daytime and you listen hard enough I'm
sure you can hear a small engine attempting to control nature
somewhere (and this privilage American's kill brown people of culture
with drones for). Could there be a better way to vent our
collective frustration then to grow just grass that has got to be
mowed every other week...and fueled by petroleum I might add. Henry
Ford and his ilk knew what they were doing with the invention of
carcentric suburbia. They were being industrious, which is the
highest good as long as it supports profit.
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What am I to tell my two young boys about the world and their place
in it? The future has no place for them. If they're lucky there
will at least be some good human supporting biospheres left when it's
their turn to start making babies, that is if the nuclear industry
hasn't finished the job of making us all sterile. That industry is
definitely doing their level best to destroy all ocean life. For a
long time I used permaculture as a blank screen on which to project
my hopium. I resigned from a low paying career as a medic after a
short stent on fukitol didn't resolve my cognizant dissonance.
Dissonance which was resonating from existence in an anti-culture. I
went on a permaculture crusade of hope. Three years later my
permaculture business partner realizes that hugelkulture isn't going
to save the world and threw in the towel. Not that I blame him. Our
anti-culture requires us to make money, not to dream up ways to fix
this mess.
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I'm supposed to remain optimistic in the face of all of this bad
news. I'm supposed to somehow realize that our anti-culture is
collapsing around us in all the ways that count, but yet there's
reason to rejoice! There is a large for profit prison industry in
this country for cryin' out loud. What the fuck! People are
literally making millions of dollars on non-violent drug addicts
turned industrial prison complex for profit slaves. They were only
drug addicts in the first place because there was no place for them
in our anti-culture. Who can blame them? Yet now they make our
military uniforms. I suppose at least we're using our own domestic
slaves now rather than the rest of the worlds. There is even a very
entertaining show about it on Netflix called "Orange is the New
Black." My wife and I have watched all three seasons. In the
last season the women of the prison make panties for a lingerie
company. Most Americans watching probably have no idea that the show
is depicting reality. At any rate we watch it to escape from
reality. One of the most important prescriptions for life in an
American anti-culture is the remedy of sitting on our fattening asses
while eating food chemicals anesthetized on a television screen,
beer, and fukitol. I'm supposed to be optimistic. I have a tendency
to forget that.
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There is one small silver lining in the fight for optimism and
hopium. The SUN foundation, a 501c3 non-profit of which I'm the CFO
(chief financial officer), has a chance at receiving one million
dollars to design a "Sunstead." You can read all about
what that is by going to sun4living.com and reading our prospectus.
If anything can give me hope it's SUN. As you have no doubt deduced
at this point I need some hopium. We all do, at least those of us
with our eyes wide open. I hope that SUN can shine and help to
create at least one answer to this mess we are in. Now I'm off with
my truck and trailer full of nature tyranny dispensation so that I
can make some money to buy some Costco food to feed my family. At
least I did provide them some home grown Irish cobler taters and
zucinni for dinner last night. I'll take the small victories. I
suppose I'm more prepared for the future than 99% of the rest of the
non-1% Americans. On another optimistic note...my state finally took
the confederate flag off of the state capitol building today. I
guess my state's no longer stuck in the mid 1800's intellectually any
longer?
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Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-20095644343074093362015-03-01T14:25:00.000-08:002015-03-01T16:54:56.344-08:00Photojournal 6I intend on blogging with words soon. I recently took my wife and two kids across country to see my side of the family this last December and January. We drove from SC to California and back. I turned 35 in Sedona Arizona. We've been back to SC now for a month. Lately i've been busy studying Celtic Mythology and Bamboo, practicing Druidry, moving earth around, raising children, and exercising the fine art of good husbandry. There's a lot I could say, but I'd rather let the pictures do the talking. It seems the writing portion of my life has been giving way to the reading and doing, but I'll always be a writer, and so I'll write again. Just can't say when. Soon...maybe...but not right now right soon...later soon!
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's me and "The American Poet" himself, Jim Morrison, on an American Flag that's tied to a bamboo cane and stuck into a berm. That berm is the same berm you will see transformed, in this very blog, into a Hugel Dragon. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_q8sGgLWh38acH6Oaezkmd11s5J1AmWrNsXt-inKjPsdNVcVsJZCyjwinrgPoy8zNyib6ZvSP0t9oB3HGW9nF8R5XBYR9d3MG17n3HcFmxdhqlleFqDFqDzW_WoKhyphenhyphenUf438cdzYPh_kc/s1600/IMG_1367.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_q8sGgLWh38acH6Oaezkmd11s5J1AmWrNsXt-inKjPsdNVcVsJZCyjwinrgPoy8zNyib6ZvSP0t9oB3HGW9nF8R5XBYR9d3MG17n3HcFmxdhqlleFqDFqDzW_WoKhyphenhyphenUf438cdzYPh_kc/s1600/IMG_1367.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's the chicken coop. It's been there for three years. We recently moved it as you'll see.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFOtz65QG0rMkChRxBAotX-6EdbsmhorYZUdiSlWrrFHT28t44ELxCTfmOBuWOtBkPqmFdIpdUKxWCH0WMgXNhnty5gb9HTbMg8H2RInhjUjixSd2c5Qh6b4RclDR-VIZz0lB8KuliZlA/s1600/IMG_1368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFOtz65QG0rMkChRxBAotX-6EdbsmhorYZUdiSlWrrFHT28t44ELxCTfmOBuWOtBkPqmFdIpdUKxWCH0WMgXNhnty5gb9HTbMg8H2RInhjUjixSd2c5Qh6b4RclDR-VIZz0lB8KuliZlA/s1600/IMG_1368.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">devising my strategy just before moving the coop to behind that garage. I had the help of my wife.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNMjgtiMAZO38uTAjd4vzpx4aJ-PlwiH4616L1PovclqOecjTIftdsgBan95ecussnV0Mv3zLPp8hyphenhyphenf0UkSSx9VbNnDauc2DiSIzcWdKtitlBgl3H7GL7_LeAdtHWB83LhV5yDIX0zwFA/s1600/1+(4).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNMjgtiMAZO38uTAjd4vzpx4aJ-PlwiH4616L1PovclqOecjTIftdsgBan95ecussnV0Mv3zLPp8hyphenhyphenf0UkSSx9VbNnDauc2DiSIzcWdKtitlBgl3H7GL7_LeAdtHWB83LhV5yDIX0zwFA/s1600/1+(4).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Those roosts are bamboo culms (canes) Wendy and I harvested from local groves. The coop is slowly transforming into bamboo. I'm also using bamboo canes for the small roof above the roost. The roof is made of tin metal flashing and bamboo canes. That blue thing in the center of the coop is a moving blanket I tied to a cane with hemp cordage and stones. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRSgp9wqHqd4F2rYzmDYITRdV_u3GHg05NdBjPpZby5bmJ-jRb0B2gAt-3bkNkpQwBZml5FHy2en1Xh1q_dRUb6VcFm5BCiAwhwrQrBmYXR78jYPtjpNhg1aJwTItkIQYD3lDEO6483z4/s1600/1+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRSgp9wqHqd4F2rYzmDYITRdV_u3GHg05NdBjPpZby5bmJ-jRb0B2gAt-3bkNkpQwBZml5FHy2en1Xh1q_dRUb6VcFm5BCiAwhwrQrBmYXR78jYPtjpNhg1aJwTItkIQYD3lDEO6483z4/s1600/1+(1).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first three hugelbeds constructed at the Fox Den in their third season. I sewed Rye Grain, hairy vetch, and white clover last fall. The round things are some of last year's gourds. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiur9PHgBe9AyMZfY4qchvJh-mth-XWaQXBlqx_d6dvIoE4diW6BB3gArwRADTVNM4whrxRizyrSJVPt3nEgME_l3n5fDfBVO75ywfZdHdms_Dc95VbUBJeCr2RAUBo__s2x17wZvLFY4g/s1600/1+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiur9PHgBe9AyMZfY4qchvJh-mth-XWaQXBlqx_d6dvIoE4diW6BB3gArwRADTVNM4whrxRizyrSJVPt3nEgME_l3n5fDfBVO75ywfZdHdms_Dc95VbUBJeCr2RAUBo__s2x17wZvLFY4g/s1600/1+(2).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's Stink around skunk bug and I. He came by to help me tie the roost poles to the cage. I drilled a hole through the canes and lashed them to the fence with hemp cord</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHATgF8kCw50y8cBTYplmIEsUTLVaeGIt7cX_GDhhjSF188I_ujESw5InCkFwmnG-NxkCRNVHFOuOPDAHSHgMdxM6rRbxvra8YMD4S4ASeAYfhw0RTthUD6i376sQ083Sjdxf99ZY-sSs/s1600/1+(3).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHATgF8kCw50y8cBTYplmIEsUTLVaeGIt7cX_GDhhjSF188I_ujESw5InCkFwmnG-NxkCRNVHFOuOPDAHSHgMdxM6rRbxvra8YMD4S4ASeAYfhw0RTthUD6i376sQ083Sjdxf99ZY-sSs/s1600/1+(3).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The vernal pool/pond. My business partner, Taylor Maxson, and I made this pond last summer by reusing two full size blow up mattresses as the liner. I'm about to add another section to this pond in that space in between the existing pond and the chicken coop. I'm gonna make the amendment a few feet deep.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjublZ8vmZ1G826PeAWe6cAMMaifQ8tsUc-65y98mWKeH3VrZDWgViHfW8w2PQhmfZ9CzD-Zc6dNQE-HPc-DWch8mNmTg36FR_KR0sD74S0msY50VQNZSGbzuuw-qAGKgowsg0ykHCs5hM/s1600/1+(5).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjublZ8vmZ1G826PeAWe6cAMMaifQ8tsUc-65y98mWKeH3VrZDWgViHfW8w2PQhmfZ9CzD-Zc6dNQE-HPc-DWch8mNmTg36FR_KR0sD74S0msY50VQNZSGbzuuw-qAGKgowsg0ykHCs5hM/s1600/1+(5).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's "Badgey," our rooster. He's the one and only chicken to have been born here at the Fox Den. He's a Red Star, which is a cross between a Rhode Island Red rooster and a Delaware hen. He's about 6 months old now. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYbUqP61Tny0629BPzKGHO8XpR1usfCjRkwtnre9H5oEN8DaJ19Acb3j-x-ER3PIpC6Z5o1R1rIQhgYxsvmneZFgQRmfgVOAC4n-0y2mEhbUiVznfb1-TvMmj4j93EyNlzMvkMl59ROlg/s1600/1+(6).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYbUqP61Tny0629BPzKGHO8XpR1usfCjRkwtnre9H5oEN8DaJ19Acb3j-x-ER3PIpC6Z5o1R1rIQhgYxsvmneZFgQRmfgVOAC4n-0y2mEhbUiVznfb1-TvMmj4j93EyNlzMvkMl59ROlg/s1600/1+(6).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the hugel spiral sewed with the same cover crop mixture used on my hugel beds.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesUme0MkoXOhvjhNhoKZvgoFZ5v1oUPXcto4vr2FolJJU6oSaF7rOkp2GO1Wh5o3rgOzcDqf6B3_FOgrU3cusWRmajUeGwmTZiQLgCZpJCnf44NgfAKEBYyqJE5wXUp5mznetCPeUbYs/s1600/1+(7).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesUme0MkoXOhvjhNhoKZvgoFZ5v1oUPXcto4vr2FolJJU6oSaF7rOkp2GO1Wh5o3rgOzcDqf6B3_FOgrU3cusWRmajUeGwmTZiQLgCZpJCnf44NgfAKEBYyqJE5wXUp5mznetCPeUbYs/s1600/1+(7).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bamboo Island. It has Phyllostachys Aurea and Nigra as well as Pseudosasa Japonica</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIVhB-6Z93pwyW7GOHFKbfpgsKbEVwRzUyMrPdnBS027Wk3G7lFICkvjJ_SCGTc66hUX0pTz1LsH4x2bWl2-Xypbx-9xpVP_ONMdLLuSZ0Kn6C20b66Jc3Kg7NfuGXoBY_7HuOiCawhVQ/s1600/1+(8).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIVhB-6Z93pwyW7GOHFKbfpgsKbEVwRzUyMrPdnBS027Wk3G7lFICkvjJ_SCGTc66hUX0pTz1LsH4x2bWl2-Xypbx-9xpVP_ONMdLLuSZ0Kn6C20b66Jc3Kg7NfuGXoBY_7HuOiCawhVQ/s1600/1+(8).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the log and stone man in the center of Bamboo Island</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibSco-_aLz8e2tuZdgNRspRlCZopFakk3T3AIZbx-geIZQxHV8JuihtQar6zWeiKvHyvWUCiW5FwcvdZ_L4W2VEoxWc7oOMOPdFpjkmCZZXkusOsG4eOGo_fXh5tCHfC49wGNjEOIfJk4/s1600/1+(9).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibSco-_aLz8e2tuZdgNRspRlCZopFakk3T3AIZbx-geIZQxHV8JuihtQar6zWeiKvHyvWUCiW5FwcvdZ_L4W2VEoxWc7oOMOPdFpjkmCZZXkusOsG4eOGo_fXh5tCHfC49wGNjEOIfJk4/s1600/1+(9).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The resident flamingo </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6XPlJ9hCjeI8xaM3Eb_aN9hIpKY8CCBqGmyU2a5zQ_sOkAb8mRegCttqtkQ3Lp0eDhjGpMpNtUwZoYKdmcnHyBNqKYf2_zbgYC7nEeKthSYaQoITWHZBdOstU7vGP0Nxv8gP0_V90lFA/s1600/1+(10).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6XPlJ9hCjeI8xaM3Eb_aN9hIpKY8CCBqGmyU2a5zQ_sOkAb8mRegCttqtkQ3Lp0eDhjGpMpNtUwZoYKdmcnHyBNqKYf2_zbgYC7nEeKthSYaQoITWHZBdOstU7vGP0Nxv8gP0_V90lFA/s1600/1+(10).JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9vs_07Ind-mQ4y11jiwhqCoVxH6ybF7EfhsY67FVh4PhDrRstbXm07GM1nF_KnPYNrk2eyPV0GvJJwzGPpUNDXgGGOZVfn3rVzoJaUrjk19c0WlM_1E6RwxB6JDaK23V_6FLB2Q5T-go/s1600/1+(11).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9vs_07Ind-mQ4y11jiwhqCoVxH6ybF7EfhsY67FVh4PhDrRstbXm07GM1nF_KnPYNrk2eyPV0GvJJwzGPpUNDXgGGOZVfn3rVzoJaUrjk19c0WlM_1E6RwxB6JDaK23V_6FLB2Q5T-go/s1600/1+(11).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWW1q1WALabRdwEuufDbotnsZpvieGZK0tz10lhCWzEAJHOVVxzqIMO1d9MlaCEaJMYazxI-HYNg97Tf-I1_velXytko5I_WvHuYXrLbUriPolt7Qba7OKmv21KWO_pg9oKrIdZKLPmvU/s1600/1+(12).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWW1q1WALabRdwEuufDbotnsZpvieGZK0tz10lhCWzEAJHOVVxzqIMO1d9MlaCEaJMYazxI-HYNg97Tf-I1_velXytko5I_WvHuYXrLbUriPolt7Qba7OKmv21KWO_pg9oKrIdZKLPmvU/s1600/1+(12).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Around the island is a trench 18 to 24 inches deep by 20 inches wide filled with sand. I'm taming the Bamboo Monster by berming up as well as trenching and rhizome pruning. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKy3nnLbFCipNPlw4nlKANO8YxkA0xAwKE8KAt1t4ChXO8WNH152O-vLAgFbCF_EwVFpNyT4qGBBf9ZYCauMOnLgT6pOzEzr1fL6VsZ0pnq5xYvRTDOPof6bmHuiV4SOhWbx8_Nv7-4No/s1600/1+(13).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKy3nnLbFCipNPlw4nlKANO8YxkA0xAwKE8KAt1t4ChXO8WNH152O-vLAgFbCF_EwVFpNyT4qGBBf9ZYCauMOnLgT6pOzEzr1fL6VsZ0pnq5xYvRTDOPof6bmHuiV4SOhWbx8_Nv7-4No/s1600/1+(13).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the original swale filled with mulch and sand. I've got my other bamboo plantings in the center of the berm on the backside of the berm. You can see the Phyllostachys Aureasulcata f. spectabilis in the background. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwSsjxJtYbgz9bt44tmeTCNQ_roBmvfXOGjiuM9-yIOt6smKflzOqUiXAPDXGiyxrlbc1zfku13-s4qb_tKErHA8RkSklsNFNUUX4y5Ab1Coi5lpD2NBj3LSEUyuYCzhKQtu7X-Qq5st0/s1600/1+(14).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwSsjxJtYbgz9bt44tmeTCNQ_roBmvfXOGjiuM9-yIOt6smKflzOqUiXAPDXGiyxrlbc1zfku13-s4qb_tKErHA8RkSklsNFNUUX4y5Ab1Coi5lpD2NBj3LSEUyuYCzhKQtu7X-Qq5st0/s1600/1+(14).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spectabilis, with Aurea Koi and Vivax. All of my bamboos are juvenile plantings. This will be spectabilis's second full season. The Aurea Koi and Vivax are both baby plants. Ironically the vivax is nothing more than a few blades coming off of a stem emerging from the ground. The vivax blades are about an inch and a half long right now. At maturity Vivax is capable of 65 foot canes that are 7 inches plus in diameter. Right now it's a sleeping giant. </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXn5qxJUTF2DQ2PbK43Vqv4Shv14KlC60w2C6ey5KR8vDWVbDvPl4sL5PBc7-KSIBCUpVzHPpqAe6Y4yo0vTgemvOiHEFI4hFM8em2DAfsF5IsMNrampzUBn82qsZoyFrlWy2FqQdfdJ8/s1600/1+(15).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXn5qxJUTF2DQ2PbK43Vqv4Shv14KlC60w2C6ey5KR8vDWVbDvPl4sL5PBc7-KSIBCUpVzHPpqAe6Y4yo0vTgemvOiHEFI4hFM8em2DAfsF5IsMNrampzUBn82qsZoyFrlWy2FqQdfdJ8/s1600/1+(15).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfKHdvemROjDT4mcfd8LFmo1QFxj9WX2Hw8ITecoruJrgqgqB37WIoCD-nX9p0erV2S5_xhyphenhyphenisQOCUBQivGMpAYlWtXz4vdZgmAaxfSfnRAZEIOlncA_4xsxYwDiugwPV9W92eBnz3dAI/s1600/1+(16).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfKHdvemROjDT4mcfd8LFmo1QFxj9WX2Hw8ITecoruJrgqgqB37WIoCD-nX9p0erV2S5_xhyphenhyphenisQOCUBQivGMpAYlWtXz4vdZgmAaxfSfnRAZEIOlncA_4xsxYwDiugwPV9W92eBnz3dAI/s1600/1+(16).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the spectabilis up close. These three canes emerged here last season. The original three canes from the juvenile planting that I planted last spring were harvested for indoor decoration. Those three canes were born right where they stand. The one on the left has some frost damage. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's where the coop used to be. You can see the white post that I had it lashed to.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJ9RgH2uD2gbOuIjJvPBZxxef9LiZ128Bavrb1eNP_vIky_eDQZ88pDvwCJTF1h-IkMwH5whGMVw2as8ZzwrszNVgxUo25Sr-rOMcZp2QvKEUyYa9gJYQfPYmuoJ6-NwfpubDQK2D3ZY/s1600/1+(19).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJ9RgH2uD2gbOuIjJvPBZxxef9LiZ128Bavrb1eNP_vIky_eDQZ88pDvwCJTF1h-IkMwH5whGMVw2as8ZzwrszNVgxUo25Sr-rOMcZp2QvKEUyYa9gJYQfPYmuoJ6-NwfpubDQK2D3ZY/s1600/1+(19).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This design was challanging. We already had several existing plantings behind the coop. We had to incorporate them into the design. Wendy and I collaborated and she drew a snake eating it's tail. What emerged from a two headed snake was a dragon. This is the dragon hugel bed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQYMQ_U-hVAOKCIfOUQoOjsaere1Toj293v4Rt5-Dvy6gTfbXVdczw5YK9V002XopjjUlTEZp2w3xgMu3olUG4_9RV4YC3XNsP-yyeIR5nqko4AyYk5nWfL7OudOyfohtGWU77xVCeEcE/s1600/1+(22).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQYMQ_U-hVAOKCIfOUQoOjsaere1Toj293v4Rt5-Dvy6gTfbXVdczw5YK9V002XopjjUlTEZp2w3xgMu3olUG4_9RV4YC3XNsP-yyeIR5nqko4AyYk5nWfL7OudOyfohtGWU77xVCeEcE/s1600/1+(22).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I moved the berm that was in front of the Gypsy House. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipj2c987G0NTu7vhy6GeJS7yq9hPZxT4g-sEWuO3HKUOUgZ644VRDZ5DIu7dXEakcX1ky1HNc7H3JEsHodizA6V2fDppp5iaPz9iTKHDS5tsiRhtdLcGl473pLkCIYFJjIeOlXeWTmvS0/s1600/1+(23).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipj2c987G0NTu7vhy6GeJS7yq9hPZxT4g-sEWuO3HKUOUgZ644VRDZ5DIu7dXEakcX1ky1HNc7H3JEsHodizA6V2fDppp5iaPz9iTKHDS5tsiRhtdLcGl473pLkCIYFJjIeOlXeWTmvS0/s1600/1+(23).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlripHezl5JOmEh-gf3c54Osm700722EHaPamFiWso0CV1irc7VPZ0e0TYXIC_i7SbBLzowJRo8STHVbYC52pSnYRmJJHii34UWDhpVgrdzjKwGb-q31EsUvko7T34p4EXSNmHnEpdfM/s1600/1+(24).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlripHezl5JOmEh-gf3c54Osm700722EHaPamFiWso0CV1irc7VPZ0e0TYXIC_i7SbBLzowJRo8STHVbYC52pSnYRmJJHii34UWDhpVgrdzjKwGb-q31EsUvko7T34p4EXSNmHnEpdfM/s1600/1+(24).JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Booga destroying the snow man Wendy made.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdQXdaHIG_Jhe_DzXu0BAa5Uunb96cPpK-F0ilNX8wMKRS6ez9Oo-t4n_YF3vx4-EidqBKyirq-CCBb4STJ0LiMPpn8DVVmSt0H7-qST1I11sjNiWlzDD5iDXYhu_NDiTQLJbTe3zChrU/s1600/1+(25).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdQXdaHIG_Jhe_DzXu0BAa5Uunb96cPpK-F0ilNX8wMKRS6ez9Oo-t4n_YF3vx4-EidqBKyirq-CCBb4STJ0LiMPpn8DVVmSt0H7-qST1I11sjNiWlzDD5iDXYhu_NDiTQLJbTe3zChrU/s1600/1+(25).JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's Tribann overseeing the mound building operation.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTR5x_vYYU6zy96QBnd0HYDH-N3H7sKv2tIdXSZWjgrMTVCpFnh6pI54moluX7I472H6s-TwrglTO0O9EGqcq0-efNq0UVNeT1zwUFxUzwddSXIrs_gzM_A6aPMWAWgACvK5guB1aAgr4/s1600/1+(26).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTR5x_vYYU6zy96QBnd0HYDH-N3H7sKv2tIdXSZWjgrMTVCpFnh6pI54moluX7I472H6s-TwrglTO0O9EGqcq0-efNq0UVNeT1zwUFxUzwddSXIrs_gzM_A6aPMWAWgACvK5guB1aAgr4/s1600/1+(26).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> The flag's now lashed to the post with a ten foot section of black rope. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV9ifRqkfTgnPsMxfkjC3Omcx5uE2X3R1gHUc_phDYNG8A1WPJ50feTaNtNz9fKOFZ639Pe7nnCRCK-IPJRUVV9bbPm6RTnI5U-B7fNxoJDg61viStGJYoiHMqjV0dDxHAZTLF0_68Ocs/s1600/1+(27).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV9ifRqkfTgnPsMxfkjC3Omcx5uE2X3R1gHUc_phDYNG8A1WPJ50feTaNtNz9fKOFZ639Pe7nnCRCK-IPJRUVV9bbPm6RTnI5U-B7fNxoJDg61viStGJYoiHMqjV0dDxHAZTLF0_68Ocs/s1600/1+(27).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See the eyes of the dragon?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQaJzRPfXNUjUC6LC3NOHu4sweBQ9w5AjjtB_8JTNtltgZ-KeCCoEcgE2APEJPinIaXZtKdjTHxJs_Ar6O0dTW5aKKhwWcRbEcaO7qYK8gT3HdZh6c8c_O7t2LbuXG2Kztp41BeXQ5vew/s1600/1+(28).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQaJzRPfXNUjUC6LC3NOHu4sweBQ9w5AjjtB_8JTNtltgZ-KeCCoEcgE2APEJPinIaXZtKdjTHxJs_Ar6O0dTW5aKKhwWcRbEcaO7qYK8gT3HdZh6c8c_O7t2LbuXG2Kztp41BeXQ5vew/s1600/1+(28).JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I buried the trunk of a maple tree in this bed. The gourd has grubs we found while moving the Earth. The chickens had a feast that day. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_grpNfgrE76sdiEg-V3d9LQD7fYREjqWeGNXWIF5KXLd4loGMme3uLe714H6-EdsuoRhQJVsdxQp3WQ-ELBE1OeDZybOdqw43VfugZc9UyM9oOVehkFetdVAf2Ap8ynUIdge9b1j-7I/s1600/1+(29).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_grpNfgrE76sdiEg-V3d9LQD7fYREjqWeGNXWIF5KXLd4loGMme3uLe714H6-EdsuoRhQJVsdxQp3WQ-ELBE1OeDZybOdqw43VfugZc9UyM9oOVehkFetdVAf2Ap8ynUIdge9b1j-7I/s1600/1+(29).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Putting in the early spring greens. Three types of lettuce, radish, a dwarf blue kale, spinach, and kohlrabi</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The water had frozen on the bamboo. It was melting off. So what I photographed was ice melting off of the plant.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The finished hugel dragon. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4_8P2b9Vio7RfqtZq2md5Hozuz8I2tgPjXocO-4HK31zJfMRV5Jx4oSWgHgP3WU63Qu1m8mqJWvs_6iwtL0ec5cnHmdY9SosQtFG2Bur9KCEe9n9FyyZFYr_CYfNN695FgLKwGxLwHhw/s1600/1+(41).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4_8P2b9Vio7RfqtZq2md5Hozuz8I2tgPjXocO-4HK31zJfMRV5Jx4oSWgHgP3WU63Qu1m8mqJWvs_6iwtL0ec5cnHmdY9SosQtFG2Bur9KCEe9n9FyyZFYr_CYfNN695FgLKwGxLwHhw/s1600/1+(41).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tree is a Maygold Peach</td></tr>
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<br />Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-28924407802989690212014-09-02T17:02:00.002-07:002014-09-02T17:09:08.978-07:00The Bamboo Monster <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
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<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">On August 30th, just after arriving home from a 14 day long intensive Permaculture Design Course, I was informed that South Carolina Environmental Control had been too my residence. They were looking for Cannabis. Apparently residents of this county are growing it in their gardens to hide it. I'm not. I've got kids, and I'm not stupid enough to grow cannabis where it's illegal to do so. Anyways, because bamboo is technically a grass, they have decided that I must keep it cut at 16 inches. This is preposterous. 0.5 miles from my residence there is an established grove of Phyllostachys Spectabilis. I have that same bamboo growing in my yard, along with others...all of which came from the ground in this county. </span></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Allow
me to officially introduce myself. I, dear reader, am the Bamboo
Monster. Now, before you get your panties in a wad and start calling
me names, like my all time favorite Bamboo hater term, "Damnboo."
Please realize that I'm a nice monster. However, according to the
Department of Homeland Security, I'm in fact the opposite. <a href="http://forums.gardenweb.com/forums/load/bamboo/msg04144636922.html?7" target="_blank">Just
listen to the words of an anonymous chicken shit from the USDA:</a></span></span></span></div>
<a href="http://forums.gardenweb.com/forums/load/bamboo/msg04144636922.html?7" target="_blank">
</a>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<a href="http://forums.gardenweb.com/forums/load/bamboo/msg04144636922.html?7" target="_blank"></a><br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></span></span>"The
so-called gardeners who plant this vile stuff in their yards claim
that it makes a great privacy screen, while in actuality its an
invasive weed that spreads to adjacent properties and wreaks havoc on
entire communities. This law was enacted to send a clear message: If
you want privacy, build a fence like a normal person!"
</div>
</blockquote>
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"Wreaks havoc on entire communities," now that is just
misguided at best. I mean I may have climbed up through your
ventilation ducts in the middle of the night and chocked a bitch or
two in my past, but I'm reformed. I promise. I've spent the last 40
years or so being damned by American anti-culture. Ever since the
American government abandoned its intensive research of me in the
late 60's. I was fit to revolutionize the Earth for humanity.
Personally I think I got tossed to the curb by American culture for
the same reason that hemp got tossed. I'm just too damn useful to
humans. The rotten money changers at the top of the human
socioeconomic scheme just can't figure out how to control me to
monopolize on my usefulness. According to the above referenced
article, I'm actually illegal to grow in the United States.
However, you can buy six foot canes a half inch in diameter at lowes
for 3 bucks a pop courtesy of China. Somehow that makes sense, but
growing me in your yard for free doesn't. You might be interested to
hear what the illustrious Michael Chertoff, head of the DHS, <a href="http://forums.gardenweb.com/forums/load/bamboo/msg04144636922.html?7" target="_blank">had to say on the matter of befriending me:</a></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
"Privacy in America is a quaint, outdated concept. That's why we
support this legislation. The abolition of bamboo screening in the
yards of America will make it much easier for people to see what
their neighbors are up to. The passage of this law is one small
victory in the larger war against terror."</div>
</blockquote>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
Did you know that from 1898 to 1975 the US Department of Agriculture
introduced hundreds of my varieties to the states. The plan was to
plant me widely as a commercially viable plant. Around 1960, the New
Crops Branch of the USDA studied Phyllostachys bambusoides and
loblolly pine to compare yields for pulp production. Then on July 1,
1965 the Department of Agriculture just stopped researching me. I
was very confused by that because I'm much more virile than pine.
Latter I found out that the government turned their back on me
because loblolly pine business interests wanted them to. The same
thing happened to hemp.
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
Contrary to what idiots may think, I am native to North America. I'm
not an invasive weed, or a pest. For some reason Americans seem to
think that I can defy the laws of nature. They think I will "take
over" if you plant me. Well, yeah, I will take over if you
don't keep me in check. Let me tell you a little secret. I'll throw
this little nugget out there as a peace offering; I have an Achilles
Heel. If you want to control me, all you have to do is dig a trench
around me and fill it with sand. Then, twice a year, you take a
spade and plunge it into the sand. When you find one of my rhizomes
you cut it. It's called root pruning (or rhizome pruning in my
case), and it really is that easy. If you do that I won't escape
containment. Well, I may still find my way out by plunging down
beneath your trench, but eventually, if I do that, I'll send up a
shoot and then you'll know where I escaped. Then you just eat the
shoot, or don't, and pull the rhizome up and put me back into
containment. </div>
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<br /></div>
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My growth habits are not a state secret, and I'm easy
to contain if you just understand how I grow. Sure, once I get
established as a healthy grove I'm just about impossible to get rid
of, but then what's wrong with being strong and powerful? I am
stronger than steel and I'm capable of weathering hurricanes.
Indigenous cultures know that when mother nature strikes via natural
disasters I'm the safest place to seek refuge. I've been told that I
have somewhere around 1400 uses for mankind. Why, kind reader, do
Americans hate the most useful plant to them on the planet?!!!
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/4RdApdAvQfs" width="560"></iframe>Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-70929037370707467002014-08-01T19:44:00.002-07:002014-08-01T19:44:49.333-07:00Evidence of the Bamboo Monster?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Let me take you on a journey through a magical land inhabited by Pagans, Druids, Witches, and Bamboo Monsters. It's located in the Upstate of SC and is home to the <a href="http://sun4living.com/" target="_blank">SUN Foundation</a>. <a href="http://www.facebook.com/ancientearthdesign" target="_blank">Ancient Earth Design</a> also resides in this location, as does the Fox Den and the Gypsy House. Tribanns are to be found, as are treasures, gourds, and bamboo bones (I think they are the phalanges of the Bamboo Monster himself). Legend and myth is unfolding here, and if one looks closely enough fairies can be spotted racing from earth mound to earth mound. It all amounts to hope in a hopeless time. In other words, beyond monetary value, and beyond business as usual. For there is very little BAU to be found here. It's cordoned off and kept at bay by intentional magic. As in the esoterically occult kind. The kind that uses natural objects to weave meaning, purpose, and intentionality. Join me on this journey. Captured in one windy, unusually chilly, overcast and drizzily day after a storm had passed. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh88DqbOh8x-rni1G9Y_VVs3PqMDGN7fAL9jlq8ptHvhOfen3L0Zl6_wIhhvWOlv2y8GWYU6rVzW5AOrB-_SEalzknhcSD5UJTiEVemqiVYSIc4ZuCzVNLmyYeMiPxMx2jLm6MGy2u17RI/s1600/IMG_8688.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh88DqbOh8x-rni1G9Y_VVs3PqMDGN7fAL9jlq8ptHvhOfen3L0Zl6_wIhhvWOlv2y8GWYU6rVzW5AOrB-_SEalzknhcSD5UJTiEVemqiVYSIc4ZuCzVNLmyYeMiPxMx2jLm6MGy2u17RI/s1600/IMG_8688.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There is a tribann composed of 6 Earth Mounds </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQXSv6Ul2JRHFyc9Hbcm7xMwKW82CQGY0_wUKWnsXCMezXPvLAAcsyY13dEHBGzAPduBzsoQxlMw9yrp2uF9QeiIljf4jjLGiXjExmv-YV43IM4gSQ4ghqCib5lK4iWT4yFJ42LkhMhnI/s1600/IMG_8867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQXSv6Ul2JRHFyc9Hbcm7xMwKW82CQGY0_wUKWnsXCMezXPvLAAcsyY13dEHBGzAPduBzsoQxlMw9yrp2uF9QeiIljf4jjLGiXjExmv-YV43IM4gSQ4ghqCib5lK4iWT4yFJ42LkhMhnI/s1600/IMG_8867.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A hidden mushroom</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNf1OZJuro7Rsv8mIcMGTd48PAMsDtyNkGO9bWGC1iByXIKcNw1JFHX86W0HodCvbFDVqyhKKkkSywuxXS2cahRxLoHozySRDyAtIDwd2wea2Bk3xa1uXC_XTcxS16N4lz5xKXkgssoNY/s1600/IMG_8883.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNf1OZJuro7Rsv8mIcMGTd48PAMsDtyNkGO9bWGC1iByXIKcNw1JFHX86W0HodCvbFDVqyhKKkkSywuxXS2cahRxLoHozySRDyAtIDwd2wea2Bk3xa1uXC_XTcxS16N4lz5xKXkgssoNY/s1600/IMG_8883.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnA_kZDwIkt7AG51KNH9TO-GXYDSQ5gquCXZQHxfp4rTGZS1TXMZAiHFZvDHAumipqrGa23XopgntsDaVKWti_TFCCnfk42eXLfEU9DhF6sGGeJX4TkbZsdbcJPPZF0cY47aZMAmzHT8U/s1600/IMG_8886.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnA_kZDwIkt7AG51KNH9TO-GXYDSQ5gquCXZQHxfp4rTGZS1TXMZAiHFZvDHAumipqrGa23XopgntsDaVKWti_TFCCnfk42eXLfEU9DhF6sGGeJX4TkbZsdbcJPPZF0cY47aZMAmzHT8U/s1600/IMG_8886.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">gourds</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSlSA27AElz0rpIfGYVHluDRHO4J8x6N9H4gqnShfVD83reCN1CcQEIeoSJ_CAdNEUW63ls-s20iFyX5JxC_qaDMyfqFUu9ZrmwvUWrDo8zdUyGkykXoHdDJOXJrgeDLX40bGLMEjzv0I/s1600/IMG_8892.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSlSA27AElz0rpIfGYVHluDRHO4J8x6N9H4gqnShfVD83reCN1CcQEIeoSJ_CAdNEUW63ls-s20iFyX5JxC_qaDMyfqFUu9ZrmwvUWrDo8zdUyGkykXoHdDJOXJrgeDLX40bGLMEjzv0I/s1600/IMG_8892.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtpJhYREWVeIGTt5b9Z3pA58j6FRTNw1Q_NreFRlja-RfQvRobWG9QwhelrOqcU8jo1PTSgJplzSXNdKpy9jKQPuZZLZ2JUI9QUqFL3I5jnU42u95R08iWjDerFA3G-zb5TADJ4oh3JVU/s1600/IMG_8895.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtpJhYREWVeIGTt5b9Z3pA58j6FRTNw1Q_NreFRlja-RfQvRobWG9QwhelrOqcU8jo1PTSgJplzSXNdKpy9jKQPuZZLZ2JUI9QUqFL3I5jnU42u95R08iWjDerFA3G-zb5TADJ4oh3JVU/s1600/IMG_8895.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWzuzTAVcrnVwVxsl58aEtEBNTEd5D4E8zNPXT3KE4IDG7nK-x4r20p_XL69sacUYQNyI0Eru9lq8wFfy5LU5onp8371iLgomTNNrqmJOr4riuu4x4L-4w2wWwwMmynRbyqpMrmSausA/s1600/IMG_8896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWzuzTAVcrnVwVxsl58aEtEBNTEd5D4E8zNPXT3KE4IDG7nK-x4r20p_XL69sacUYQNyI0Eru9lq8wFfy5LU5onp8371iLgomTNNrqmJOr4riuu4x4L-4w2wWwwMmynRbyqpMrmSausA/s1600/IMG_8896.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">more gourds and a bamboo staff altered by sun, rain, and druid magic</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4bdjxVPMW3y8mYSTzY-ACbYC3-kiQ3EWCtOc3JyjNMPUqz_rNMBbCaOlRMcnq1oqhBtoLeXC7VGd-NnMMS6eWNH8g3sqiaM_K48Fcd70BFgzjQzoKBXi6Q5EqDtKSXsKxoF0GIEtdZ2c/s1600/IMG_8927.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4bdjxVPMW3y8mYSTzY-ACbYC3-kiQ3EWCtOc3JyjNMPUqz_rNMBbCaOlRMcnq1oqhBtoLeXC7VGd-NnMMS6eWNH8g3sqiaM_K48Fcd70BFgzjQzoKBXi6Q5EqDtKSXsKxoF0GIEtdZ2c/s1600/IMG_8927.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">reflection of phyllostachy spectabilis in a rain water filled swale</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtdbjuAOo_l3QfAi7y2hnQ2p4qXAFzri_u2UJDLobmfsIW84fpFD2QCN78toVp1anU7tJ591rGM2XuRntBsylos0Me02Fki5kGGCJ4xIR_3rat76ep8OZbN4dWpy9FqSonPsq2mzcmuDQ/s1600/IMG_8928.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtdbjuAOo_l3QfAi7y2hnQ2p4qXAFzri_u2UJDLobmfsIW84fpFD2QCN78toVp1anU7tJ591rGM2XuRntBsylos0Me02Fki5kGGCJ4xIR_3rat76ep8OZbN4dWpy9FqSonPsq2mzcmuDQ/s1600/IMG_8928.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wind blown spectabilis</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0zqe-3zlWBLwli7utNxJ57qCda5sthTebwyISzfCqMZnevEnLV9pa7dMonaviwFDnhjS_pSv-e-IPsZnIhCuO_hyuPCeGDQXQ-BU42PQfBizpZON5VGIrn5bk9jmSpTXo_cIS6xoH7sw/s1600/IMG_8949.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0zqe-3zlWBLwli7utNxJ57qCda5sthTebwyISzfCqMZnevEnLV9pa7dMonaviwFDnhjS_pSv-e-IPsZnIhCuO_hyuPCeGDQXQ-BU42PQfBizpZON5VGIrn5bk9jmSpTXo_cIS6xoH7sw/s1600/IMG_8949.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bee on a gourd blossom </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYzXXX88D5vPMje4UKHxv5BCsjODjEvYbeEU4LG-Lax-7qBh6nrEuX-zef46rTA9rGuW6wFgdhrSjxHMbKMqOh6syDGWJEJ70TfBhqJHaG2EKYj-zcsi_qKXwyxTysKKSo2jwLIL1e20/s1600/IMG_8963.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYzXXX88D5vPMje4UKHxv5BCsjODjEvYbeEU4LG-Lax-7qBh6nrEuX-zef46rTA9rGuW6wFgdhrSjxHMbKMqOh6syDGWJEJ70TfBhqJHaG2EKYj-zcsi_qKXwyxTysKKSo2jwLIL1e20/s1600/IMG_8963.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">gourds gourds and more gourds</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhQxDgmU0DfSzJivHC_yFjVkM1-3dfQvedjBcHpuEWyY3U58gVccdx7sgyTjdjw_zljEMcC9C1ahquSY8Y9Y8onI2ZUtyjAgYrP5vyZZAoYi3MSQimBW4YrbFGJk5ht3VBz4J_4YjHYs/s1600/IMG_8967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhQxDgmU0DfSzJivHC_yFjVkM1-3dfQvedjBcHpuEWyY3U58gVccdx7sgyTjdjw_zljEMcC9C1ahquSY8Y9Y8onI2ZUtyjAgYrP5vyZZAoYi3MSQimBW4YrbFGJk5ht3VBz4J_4YjHYs/s1600/IMG_8967.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zen pointing out evidence of the Bamboo Monster. He leaves behind bamboo bones as he passes through to check on the welfare of our chickens. We're certain he lives here. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp_IL-3VqHinmOqKOzU9mYFZTrbYsGv9eGZhH1mNIYqky6FkQAYbRqETybaIHChSwjqtJO39fymKEhKoMnrk0v3fqCoXZZt7H8PXuaVxEg8d-x5lhbiJzvBZ6EAyprJbXaOppFKP8o_V4/s1600/IMG_8969.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp_IL-3VqHinmOqKOzU9mYFZTrbYsGv9eGZhH1mNIYqky6FkQAYbRqETybaIHChSwjqtJO39fymKEhKoMnrk0v3fqCoXZZt7H8PXuaVxEg8d-x5lhbiJzvBZ6EAyprJbXaOppFKP8o_V4/s1600/IMG_8969.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bamboo bones left by the Monster. Zen says he was "keeping them safe from the ostrich." Apparently "The Ostrich" likes to eat Bamboo Monster phalange's left behind by his passing. Zen threw them all into the pond. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwj-sF7Eod-uGEp8EbfW2LxgNMpO3g7o5lz2SxXY7LaoelwID4_391H9NsSQw8M5n9au8m3LNGI0wxLcmMds1oYz0Ls-iDtaRvxQXf6SKvicU5nZFbyDyOEVluerRudTMvaOKjwRhhaOY/s1600/IMG_8980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwj-sF7Eod-uGEp8EbfW2LxgNMpO3g7o5lz2SxXY7LaoelwID4_391H9NsSQw8M5n9au8m3LNGI0wxLcmMds1oYz0Ls-iDtaRvxQXf6SKvicU5nZFbyDyOEVluerRudTMvaOKjwRhhaOY/s1600/IMG_8980.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a gourd and a booga</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgagy7ykYD5UtkWXtMozloizfNmeolR1owRPCuQ-SLIOEe5zuyNlCLIlu0pcIErb9qIolcFSckKgDvImwB111pIpoTPNGWa3WPWFOE1irh9OrH-96gJjRHTgHIGI9BmNepeiu2uEkhUpj8/s1600/IMG_8982.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgagy7ykYD5UtkWXtMozloizfNmeolR1owRPCuQ-SLIOEe5zuyNlCLIlu0pcIErb9qIolcFSckKgDvImwB111pIpoTPNGWa3WPWFOE1irh9OrH-96gJjRHTgHIGI9BmNepeiu2uEkhUpj8/s1600/IMG_8982.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blueberry being "gourdtacked" as Wendy likes to call the process of being overtaken by a gourd plant. We've gotten 2 blueberries so far this year. This is the second year of growth. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXYi6ItUaTDn8x1PHAjOhwrdHTUVY-T2aZhuYCcFTVW076rW74MFg36bHpYhHmszU37zDYP2e-WDP3dd47SmGoug8hyphenhyphenD9IL2ZlZBW-nM-0E_76CXudyHJ3-NP_rnWc3nO7xtGxA3vEJTk/s1600/IMG_8984.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXYi6ItUaTDn8x1PHAjOhwrdHTUVY-T2aZhuYCcFTVW076rW74MFg36bHpYhHmszU37zDYP2e-WDP3dd47SmGoug8hyphenhyphenD9IL2ZlZBW-nM-0E_76CXudyHJ3-NP_rnWc3nO7xtGxA3vEJTk/s1600/IMG_8984.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of many bamboo trellises held down by stone with a message to the future about what we do to televisions in this land </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNWHGjkQk6ytxatJowN6yOGNhpFltWB0wao-JCc0g4ToJXjZympnRaBBJwPQ1_1wlxv94fMBFjhUhfrcsqnQnvxU7aMvmSj1a_KbE1HmtTormUXXIPqD2qRNJFoHvjYyxYrjO3E0eSuA/s1600/IMG_8986.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNWHGjkQk6ytxatJowN6yOGNhpFltWB0wao-JCc0g4ToJXjZympnRaBBJwPQ1_1wlxv94fMBFjhUhfrcsqnQnvxU7aMvmSj1a_KbE1HmtTormUXXIPqD2qRNJFoHvjYyxYrjO3E0eSuA/s1600/IMG_8986.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">our fire pit</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxqOT30Pwfw0tKESIbzJzBZcFVy3EGRHKS2nrU_Yh5t2_A1PuAC0OGkpWBjK_qKxFp1yrRaWNj9sWAyzr2WgM5_QotLRFr52KbuToovVy2aTwL6ZPKm7lxFlv1hv8uhiszcL0OlU1vrSI/s1600/IMG_8989.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxqOT30Pwfw0tKESIbzJzBZcFVy3EGRHKS2nrU_Yh5t2_A1PuAC0OGkpWBjK_qKxFp1yrRaWNj9sWAyzr2WgM5_QotLRFr52KbuToovVy2aTwL6ZPKm7lxFlv1hv8uhiszcL0OlU1vrSI/s1600/IMG_8989.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A fugi apple tree along with several different gourds, concord grapes, and Saint John's Wort.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisrdOzWJY6extiMICHGbdtKPBxKWkebJQqbt47IB0978bw_Q4zVHCzLSsv_zHSiIxzVGgoOCzuIm8NRF46dWCHFvXCE7KWG9G7-Yg29QVB53HG63UJmwHyvLv3hj-PpA2Evw5YaxoaWlA/s1600/IMG_8996.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisrdOzWJY6extiMICHGbdtKPBxKWkebJQqbt47IB0978bw_Q4zVHCzLSsv_zHSiIxzVGgoOCzuIm8NRF46dWCHFvXCE7KWG9G7-Yg29QVB53HG63UJmwHyvLv3hj-PpA2Evw5YaxoaWlA/s1600/IMG_8996.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the three black locust trees next to the main swale. In five years it should be around 20 feet tall.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-hiLGL76AdpZGsW3zpUJXLN8He3yp-Rn5UQyhNUYtNBlnlEHlKSs9Jq8jnq7CyS0M_NbKL_6gM6AxJA2-yIALueV2kBub-KvjKs_nhIYs9ocPb8CxTdMzsYcFqyz_LfianN8A8oVZ_Q/s1600/IMG_9000.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-hiLGL76AdpZGsW3zpUJXLN8He3yp-Rn5UQyhNUYtNBlnlEHlKSs9Jq8jnq7CyS0M_NbKL_6gM6AxJA2-yIALueV2kBub-KvjKs_nhIYs9ocPb8CxTdMzsYcFqyz_LfianN8A8oVZ_Q/s1600/IMG_9000.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zen's leg in the main swale</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXeqj4wiUfATRwxOHLCZIzdCtV_dPQVqc5YJhNqpEeAo_Mva591NOu0OKBSlE9YfgD8CAyOEQxs3CI0O_b5oWVokqSFNnnJW4LoPrpS5-s8GhPaCCI3lVJoyvK65Sepu1bnD5eSq6Q7cg/s1600/IMG_9004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXeqj4wiUfATRwxOHLCZIzdCtV_dPQVqc5YJhNqpEeAo_Mva591NOu0OKBSlE9YfgD8CAyOEQxs3CI0O_b5oWVokqSFNnnJW4LoPrpS5-s8GhPaCCI3lVJoyvK65Sepu1bnD5eSq6Q7cg/s1600/IMG_9004.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18oUttQLRG3QMre6-7WIvglslB80jKv8zxVLMrg8tg35wklWpOZ-BRfEiBXTgUdaY83icf4zBrVpUlY7wA2wVONOWU5j9paV0yl3hgnCQ5IKj9QgD0zr7D5BkWJn8po0RIVYYFsvlGpU/s1600/IMG_9011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18oUttQLRG3QMre6-7WIvglslB80jKv8zxVLMrg8tg35wklWpOZ-BRfEiBXTgUdaY83icf4zBrVpUlY7wA2wVONOWU5j9paV0yl3hgnCQ5IKj9QgD0zr7D5BkWJn8po0RIVYYFsvlGpU/s1600/IMG_9011.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aji Crystal with one of last year's gourds. The same gourd that was broadcasted throughout the garden by me</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5FQk8yXmaxFlho0T2_Gd8wH-FmZvnADj_k9rIRoGkkGw84yHbbsLMyvRzeLbX0-Ivf4C-JHTKgyIHtxVO4V94PcNPFMFHwp5bvE83VcFzmn-rCnXXj3EL8nN5X5mFXsDldvcHXUzbfmU/s1600/IMG_9013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5FQk8yXmaxFlho0T2_Gd8wH-FmZvnADj_k9rIRoGkkGw84yHbbsLMyvRzeLbX0-Ivf4C-JHTKgyIHtxVO4V94PcNPFMFHwp5bvE83VcFzmn-rCnXXj3EL8nN5X5mFXsDldvcHXUzbfmU/s1600/IMG_9013.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Montmorecny Cherry Tree in the front attached to a staff with a Georgia Belle Peach tree behind surrounded by gourds and pepper plants</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOHulTxocq1hlciPRB44AkoVUxSuGXljAtLOeGK-sa0p-quIA6Pe_OX55YmLyZr2LR7PLBEIR-I5YFreFXxDBVMqBRWGCX6Duu2pT2N7xUFaVSqS5YXFkZox2hmarjtIpLl7TfJut-WU/s1600/IMG_9014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOHulTxocq1hlciPRB44AkoVUxSuGXljAtLOeGK-sa0p-quIA6Pe_OX55YmLyZr2LR7PLBEIR-I5YFreFXxDBVMqBRWGCX6Duu2pT2N7xUFaVSqS5YXFkZox2hmarjtIpLl7TfJut-WU/s1600/IMG_9014.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This maple tree grew from under our deck, went through the deck wood, and emerged in the corner of our deck. It grew to about 10 feet high. I had to remove because it was right next to the house. I planted it here. You can see the curved branch at the top of the maple, that was the main branch. What I planted was actually what was beneath the deck. This maple wants to grow. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJkEdh2a3p6IHrAJIVXhKFdBVXPhDFNCSXxdRI1jG9MlIkg42XAA1JaOYwDJQrD7-LI8X5iwHTSXrhqT8SFPjxWmYLD9mKo04nEa6oBw9oGl_TiDkkoAjGNjeDJT5dZIEa-ZDn08Yjd60/s1600/IMG_9016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJkEdh2a3p6IHrAJIVXhKFdBVXPhDFNCSXxdRI1jG9MlIkg42XAA1JaOYwDJQrD7-LI8X5iwHTSXrhqT8SFPjxWmYLD9mKo04nEa6oBw9oGl_TiDkkoAjGNjeDJT5dZIEa-ZDn08Yjd60/s1600/IMG_9016.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A maple tree cut down with the Sergent Major. That's a size 13 chacco. I'll be burying it in a Spiral Earth Mound this week. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH2NL7KxZ7PmQwK3nX29cCZjCmo82AybT2FHKBQrnapqLMB2-mBghhv_8RL_jt7GpBC56W-Jt31P3EX3CTTpPelscq-MzGemXtUGAAnl91Qv5nQOCTTKp-XFGgM6Hf79MffLTh668krpY/s1600/IMG_9018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH2NL7KxZ7PmQwK3nX29cCZjCmo82AybT2FHKBQrnapqLMB2-mBghhv_8RL_jt7GpBC56W-Jt31P3EX3CTTpPelscq-MzGemXtUGAAnl91Qv5nQOCTTKp-XFGgM6Hf79MffLTh668krpY/s1600/IMG_9018.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my two compost bins</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkDKFdGagRtCBeqkQmL9VfTMcNKatKlJIM_97iR6w1OAsKOfHb3UJYnB8g38G1_dwpAWAERtne-FYp3zu39n2yV4l_cqe9zcb_wr3xi-WuJukpXx2qOIWZbQ5oaM-ikb3dpAHK8xwJLqE/s1600/IMG_9019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkDKFdGagRtCBeqkQmL9VfTMcNKatKlJIM_97iR6w1OAsKOfHb3UJYnB8g38G1_dwpAWAERtne-FYp3zu39n2yV4l_cqe9zcb_wr3xi-WuJukpXx2qOIWZbQ5oaM-ikb3dpAHK8xwJLqE/s1600/IMG_9019.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maygold Peach tree</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0iuvwKlYbsj4eBHmdrcvWPzaykWwwirEdQCK3psC7EneEKznXhOz4HmNbWAAn9fG9zngC4HXDxE2eM2RLtQLTAUPHqUJPAWN4suFeiu9d1PaiineWEbcf1nH2mXLGqpSLxORM1cyRLwo/s1600/IMG_9021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0iuvwKlYbsj4eBHmdrcvWPzaykWwwirEdQCK3psC7EneEKznXhOz4HmNbWAAn9fG9zngC4HXDxE2eM2RLtQLTAUPHqUJPAWN4suFeiu9d1PaiineWEbcf1nH2mXLGqpSLxORM1cyRLwo/s1600/IMG_9021.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi53hBekq_1znagXwIhhQETXkherEAreQRJQPuEIX_Gr3C8rjGcgWc18bGEfvha-zD0Ser9bT2b0z6sQpL_CvE1pZ50R64_iQZsNAaLVg8Jqqx1hwpHdO-6HXTvYa-5sJ6qlHahZJx6Ssw/s1600/IMG_9024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi53hBekq_1znagXwIhhQETXkherEAreQRJQPuEIX_Gr3C8rjGcgWc18bGEfvha-zD0Ser9bT2b0z6sQpL_CvE1pZ50R64_iQZsNAaLVg8Jqqx1hwpHdO-6HXTvYa-5sJ6qlHahZJx6Ssw/s1600/IMG_9024.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gourd central</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKlCJa2y2-XT56j0moLxFZXPpXByj0MMUK7E-KoK4_Lxwp3FdV3ATTOAqd-x-unc0YfxGFVaxUBq1Wn-hB64f4OPOeN7aObF8k7-qgJZn9BMna2LzHqCj_M_fmaHJ5IR7FWCFHDsC2a0/s1600/IMG_9026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKlCJa2y2-XT56j0moLxFZXPpXByj0MMUK7E-KoK4_Lxwp3FdV3ATTOAqd-x-unc0YfxGFVaxUBq1Wn-hB64f4OPOeN7aObF8k7-qgJZn9BMna2LzHqCj_M_fmaHJ5IR7FWCFHDsC2a0/s1600/IMG_9026.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ripe Aji Crystal</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpgPeTDbjDcFR_4tYk37QWY3KL7wCbY2T1IXeDlLK0cpFMbVwALsmBkHHsSK31uIuYVeN5dorkCNplVjmBs6HffbnDJqsmEWLLpU07oObZlZxpzr4_a7nJ_51UX0SB4ggKtmsrBJpFgyk/s1600/IMG_9036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpgPeTDbjDcFR_4tYk37QWY3KL7wCbY2T1IXeDlLK0cpFMbVwALsmBkHHsSK31uIuYVeN5dorkCNplVjmBs6HffbnDJqsmEWLLpU07oObZlZxpzr4_a7nJ_51UX0SB4ggKtmsrBJpFgyk/s1600/IMG_9036.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lavender, tomato, gourd, Saint John's Wort</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjunwpXefc04CCW_flWv4dvVNZCpJgZHYsGO9PexUIjq-M1LugoVzeBHnyzPAtL_ZtGtSqM9nZA2KG2KXVzfY21nA7wO2zWYtkKVMozMIxh7VeDh8qR9FnfY5oIu9Rk3uubRBEeMmLvI7I/s1600/IMG_9039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjunwpXefc04CCW_flWv4dvVNZCpJgZHYsGO9PexUIjq-M1LugoVzeBHnyzPAtL_ZtGtSqM9nZA2KG2KXVzfY21nA7wO2zWYtkKVMozMIxh7VeDh8qR9FnfY5oIu9Rk3uubRBEeMmLvI7I/s1600/IMG_9039.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Comfrey</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQTlEEvBaKiEYAbIFrKQbBohV5Z_VwRNYUOf29X7CbYqGB8kMXQh10JZqLLL5o_oZ8xxC-wxqZJnYr8YQ7p5ec_GYDEdxTmL-iDqHTb1C2QgGDR2yrhMePSgatBnEe6zJXKSPwT_PZtok/s1600/IMG_9041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQTlEEvBaKiEYAbIFrKQbBohV5Z_VwRNYUOf29X7CbYqGB8kMXQh10JZqLLL5o_oZ8xxC-wxqZJnYr8YQ7p5ec_GYDEdxTmL-iDqHTb1C2QgGDR2yrhMePSgatBnEe6zJXKSPwT_PZtok/s1600/IMG_9041.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Granny Smith guyed with bamboo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCnMIsMehJ0h4N3XlnVy4eO7D3LuzvpiFdAFB9GOrCU76C5_f61AFJmSlVGKVxGALC5KmWVNLXk-AoA1EPODelpEgL4lk8NVDuzAMStPfFsy3lHCp3A_q1mJpfjgHmEvbt2uYfaWXup2g/s1600/IMG_9042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCnMIsMehJ0h4N3XlnVy4eO7D3LuzvpiFdAFB9GOrCU76C5_f61AFJmSlVGKVxGALC5KmWVNLXk-AoA1EPODelpEgL4lk8NVDuzAMStPfFsy3lHCp3A_q1mJpfjgHmEvbt2uYfaWXup2g/s1600/IMG_9042.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">raspberry </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwG3z6RxwvRRZhOSmgxthK5UKyTDUjjyJdzgBbTxAtu_gxwQ1oppAPKf5ore5zg8QPFXk24o3M_PeKMYkf9znoV62x-i6IfbXrLsrodTxG7FQgVJCYQsTqG8MSRN0NPSPf6ytR-62eE34/s1600/IMG_9044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwG3z6RxwvRRZhOSmgxthK5UKyTDUjjyJdzgBbTxAtu_gxwQ1oppAPKf5ore5zg8QPFXk24o3M_PeKMYkf9znoV62x-i6IfbXrLsrodTxG7FQgVJCYQsTqG8MSRN0NPSPf6ytR-62eE34/s1600/IMG_9044.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saint John's Wort growing behind the lavender and beneath gourd leaves </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlyQ0MKFoIyfj0P_BcaIDoJ7haz8I6Cd5PZdaCmecuEM_wDHK4r254eaVwRmbQlD2LYmG_GVmDPuhoMEsC2xu6suzGX8sfgy9h_4VGoEbjOHqQk_AmnceXVMoWsT9PKfPPZY7Dn-Ip3Wk/s1600/IMG_9051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlyQ0MKFoIyfj0P_BcaIDoJ7haz8I6Cd5PZdaCmecuEM_wDHK4r254eaVwRmbQlD2LYmG_GVmDPuhoMEsC2xu6suzGX8sfgy9h_4VGoEbjOHqQk_AmnceXVMoWsT9PKfPPZY7Dn-Ip3Wk/s1600/IMG_9051.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bamboo Island </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzyPwkfbrrr_RXCocYAxLBUM5Nmj30Q_Jg-3IHMzP-ck6QxkBa199MHJHUxGKgJzRYc_j6BWNxlLAyW0iIvJBucvs-VHkrnN2Cb5-Yv2pF-v-4Xlk9VaRuY_-2BiMMxILEqf3ADy_Vlbc/s1600/IMG_9052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzyPwkfbrrr_RXCocYAxLBUM5Nmj30Q_Jg-3IHMzP-ck6QxkBa199MHJHUxGKgJzRYc_j6BWNxlLAyW0iIvJBucvs-VHkrnN2Cb5-Yv2pF-v-4Xlk9VaRuY_-2BiMMxILEqf3ADy_Vlbc/s1600/IMG_9052.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ghost pepper with Pseudosasa Japonica</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsek3g_8UHwl8J7HKPzkP0f_weXFWiRVSl0WTHBWlT2NFY-wvIg01djhJaSaS_PRgxrgdfriEn3Vl1Cn-jBkhZ7IKLeJ7dSYnz6RhPBzs-BxOwRTzfQiWUyBR01GJ-huxsNTyT16qfiW8/s1600/IMG_9062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsek3g_8UHwl8J7HKPzkP0f_weXFWiRVSl0WTHBWlT2NFY-wvIg01djhJaSaS_PRgxrgdfriEn3Vl1Cn-jBkhZ7IKLeJ7dSYnz6RhPBzs-BxOwRTzfQiWUyBR01GJ-huxsNTyT16qfiW8/s1600/IMG_9062.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The soon to be pond (it's not been lined yet)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Or92LCpmijQT9zYNHmuv_ehJXO-gTKdut1zpfHui4blLha6HNuoHvfNtSrDDp-5AQw2jR2RjikoSBuClINnQR7FRtOilXehyOs8885Y9rAfYSwoFiwCG5veIvunM2ngY-IThjyLiH68/s1600/IMG_9072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Or92LCpmijQT9zYNHmuv_ehJXO-gTKdut1zpfHui4blLha6HNuoHvfNtSrDDp-5AQw2jR2RjikoSBuClINnQR7FRtOilXehyOs8885Y9rAfYSwoFiwCG5veIvunM2ngY-IThjyLiH68/s1600/IMG_9072.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Fox Den</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqYdiPDCyYkJkbg62QKotW5gfCPL3PvTtkxOWMHlxGwxKmqkHa-m13sFlj8lMq4acDYetWSnOucwaHXgq7iodXaNzx474ywF1nh0w0kDxPmw48flgMJi24PImnzz55fyXrlAMu2W61Rdo/s1600/IMG_9078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqYdiPDCyYkJkbg62QKotW5gfCPL3PvTtkxOWMHlxGwxKmqkHa-m13sFlj8lMq4acDYetWSnOucwaHXgq7iodXaNzx474ywF1nh0w0kDxPmw48flgMJi24PImnzz55fyXrlAMu2W61Rdo/s1600/IMG_9078.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phylostachy Aureus, aka fish pole or Golden bamboo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvXXqX-DUNkCuWGH_mZTpxkIK7ongWdHneR4LTaaETirzW0rDjo2ZEe0NVxPNcDp4tk1c_bFylwtMKS2l2HASyqouCJPzERPFpj7zdxvDvLgBFwdfotDFhTBjpJGo6CG_B8ZnQxHPK_4U/s1600/IMG_9079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvXXqX-DUNkCuWGH_mZTpxkIK7ongWdHneR4LTaaETirzW0rDjo2ZEe0NVxPNcDp4tk1c_bFylwtMKS2l2HASyqouCJPzERPFpj7zdxvDvLgBFwdfotDFhTBjpJGo6CG_B8ZnQxHPK_4U/s1600/IMG_9079.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aurea </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR0ZjVgdGnTSZsQ18U0e3z19qKNBl-6leXL2Gz6655lKeenf7FeTkYOqW4VaumIMqUv6OjVQPgoioHMX9EJ3sTAu-8L8NU2IRsUemJ6j5LEiJwNhKvj1u9FrP6V19uP8ElJhtgepHFtwc/s1600/IMG_9080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR0ZjVgdGnTSZsQ18U0e3z19qKNBl-6leXL2Gz6655lKeenf7FeTkYOqW4VaumIMqUv6OjVQPgoioHMX9EJ3sTAu-8L8NU2IRsUemJ6j5LEiJwNhKvj1u9FrP6V19uP8ElJhtgepHFtwc/s1600/IMG_9080.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aurea with the power line above</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXaimVKW7ncOgUdyezokxhFOMMhJ8iOuJpvDwDOGscTdyo-mfurirtg_Y3zIhCUXNyZ4Sfx6QWrS4qYeglcyaXX-jg2RHCi2Rfyx_H3LEDGjeykQKp9akBVRkzBYrlzuEYBowAziNJbZw/s1600/IMG_9085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXaimVKW7ncOgUdyezokxhFOMMhJ8iOuJpvDwDOGscTdyo-mfurirtg_Y3zIhCUXNyZ4Sfx6QWrS4qYeglcyaXX-jg2RHCi2Rfyx_H3LEDGjeykQKp9akBVRkzBYrlzuEYBowAziNJbZw/s1600/IMG_9085.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rooster Spur pepper with Phyllostachy Negra or Black Bamboo. There's are no canes yet. What you see are just stems coming off of the rhizome</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUhPjB5X8yfhrEhps2KUuQiD77JqrX7f8cOU8rdCbP-TfilOOUtPKZlqyPZJ1BvyiKRz4brZeo4I72bSO2vV9zteRbfT6HSAkbPWH-bEFtqb4mfZGzMY3MfFXsZtdPvsq2lynz9A2vqS8/s1600/IMG_9087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUhPjB5X8yfhrEhps2KUuQiD77JqrX7f8cOU8rdCbP-TfilOOUtPKZlqyPZJ1BvyiKRz4brZeo4I72bSO2vV9zteRbfT6HSAkbPWH-bEFtqb4mfZGzMY3MfFXsZtdPvsq2lynz9A2vqS8/s1600/IMG_9087.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pseudosasa Japonica, aka Arrow bamboo due to the Japanese using it for arrow shafts due to it's perfectly straight growth. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhBRhiujJMz9wlGjj4KHDg_iE30d3FWedyIUdUX0uLUSADDVrbcw_sLbLpvQnxEC4V-Tqeghf9Q0dI4r6swMEIzO76x2M2JdcmuR2HdN9iMtBT45-UzG_5b7aUGYzasr0EGZeA36vhCA/s1600/IMG_9088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhBRhiujJMz9wlGjj4KHDg_iE30d3FWedyIUdUX0uLUSADDVrbcw_sLbLpvQnxEC4V-Tqeghf9Q0dI4r6swMEIzO76x2M2JdcmuR2HdN9iMtBT45-UzG_5b7aUGYzasr0EGZeA36vhCA/s1600/IMG_9088.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here you can see how straight it grows</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZG23lx4_Tymo__16GRIQARLXyTu95nsvXSdSal8ElGRJmpwZA8c5dzmMN6eIF1VoMWJQPM2eaPRZCQTnYDSMIz4LFCBnUOt3rHgWgWT9usbjvGhCe_36RPQ9ek9N7tqVqX0_VIg8YM8I/s1600/IMG_9093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZG23lx4_Tymo__16GRIQARLXyTu95nsvXSdSal8ElGRJmpwZA8c5dzmMN6eIF1VoMWJQPM2eaPRZCQTnYDSMIz4LFCBnUOt3rHgWgWT9usbjvGhCe_36RPQ9ek9N7tqVqX0_VIg8YM8I/s1600/IMG_9093.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arrow Bamboo at the tip of the bamboo island</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKMc9FhxfEnk0fRpGDx0XKILXbrCpqqP1tBqbSvcRPKs2YhTy9KCARWDwy2Lvsnxi3cJ1nDs_cnRKsIJQ5_7XLV4zuCwpngC1qNZD6YA30ao40PS1L_1kdOWXH_HL5UtMij8A6nFEiW04/s1600/IMG_9096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKMc9FhxfEnk0fRpGDx0XKILXbrCpqqP1tBqbSvcRPKs2YhTy9KCARWDwy2Lvsnxi3cJ1nDs_cnRKsIJQ5_7XLV4zuCwpngC1qNZD6YA30ao40PS1L_1kdOWXH_HL5UtMij8A6nFEiW04/s1600/IMG_9096.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phyllostachy Aurea Koi. The rose color is south and the green is north. The canes change rose colored with sun. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQD2DxWMhTiUFvtmialN1EyTHTMR4miI4j1hwrOK0P_wH1KLHH-PvIv8VH7Xu0rk2fzniU3kKQpH2r31c6fWjV7olDJMIS4vHx2n3UGr3NXZk7ughFDxCfisi5bsitg6nFJae2nW6fXU/s1600/IMG_9097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQD2DxWMhTiUFvtmialN1EyTHTMR4miI4j1hwrOK0P_wH1KLHH-PvIv8VH7Xu0rk2fzniU3kKQpH2r31c6fWjV7olDJMIS4vHx2n3UGr3NXZk7ughFDxCfisi5bsitg6nFJae2nW6fXU/s1600/IMG_9097.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One Koi cane, and by this time next year there may well be 30 canes. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD2zrcfVTmF_R2gzPel4iZpYAV-JLC5qsFjkT3iuRHLqaHXWfwGUR6JX1OBtZiukPcuII1ZyJJycbuUPi3Ys93PtZLPxD-Ndg0kIqeLDhRprS7Jd5bOdveE3CSjJxYIQyqPYSs-YIHfNQ/s1600/IMG_9098.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD2zrcfVTmF_R2gzPel4iZpYAV-JLC5qsFjkT3iuRHLqaHXWfwGUR6JX1OBtZiukPcuII1ZyJJycbuUPi3Ys93PtZLPxD-Ndg0kIqeLDhRprS7Jd5bOdveE3CSjJxYIQyqPYSs-YIHfNQ/s1600/IMG_9098.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bamboo island </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQOnl50NGQpjh_7jnJ-fB6-hRNuI1-iKVTE3CCLngcgN5EmOGDJR2ZoW4ueYpobKZiTp5__z895vVLIJGrtEGb762fN6CySCmVWcH6lw_2AVtChwxSwDEKa7pRQzGorjeNvWZHGiJ5CY/s1600/IMG_9110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQOnl50NGQpjh_7jnJ-fB6-hRNuI1-iKVTE3CCLngcgN5EmOGDJR2ZoW4ueYpobKZiTp5__z895vVLIJGrtEGb762fN6CySCmVWcH6lw_2AVtChwxSwDEKa7pRQzGorjeNvWZHGiJ5CY/s1600/IMG_9110.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phyllostachy Spectabilis</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYKElTZUP9rr2DosN7vWYr3dtCrZ9iWI0X7KVO0Vql_4iXbpYH4fZ7NtIXf-LSE3KEs0IBAcygYAkX85XV-HrZPvTxJ-dJn8-cGjEW8KTw94YfKwFlFiWZ4-R9ZsTO37XCcD08CHOhV_g/s1600/IMG_9111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYKElTZUP9rr2DosN7vWYr3dtCrZ9iWI0X7KVO0Vql_4iXbpYH4fZ7NtIXf-LSE3KEs0IBAcygYAkX85XV-HrZPvTxJ-dJn8-cGjEW8KTw94YfKwFlFiWZ4-R9ZsTO37XCcD08CHOhV_g/s1600/IMG_9111.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here showing the idiosyncrasy of spectabilis. Twisting out of the ground. It also sometimes grows in a zig zag formation. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTxu8fyRcwpb4sCM8J3qfKpii0gxLhisqTqnyQ1RLhLfOb8V-m5QroiI_HE5uZ9GawSiZ1Cnk0SWR04DHBOEtdGSItyVGptTk6NSvV8upH_d5spYTbQ4gBVfIVIXD6q-wvBl93RU0u08Y/s1600/IMG_9116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTxu8fyRcwpb4sCM8J3qfKpii0gxLhisqTqnyQ1RLhLfOb8V-m5QroiI_HE5uZ9GawSiZ1Cnk0SWR04DHBOEtdGSItyVGptTk6NSvV8upH_d5spYTbQ4gBVfIVIXD6q-wvBl93RU0u08Y/s1600/IMG_9116.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bo Peppa's (my late dog) memorial. She's burried beneath those Fresno pepper plants and likely has spectabilis rhizome growing through here by this point. Maybe it's morbid to point that out. I think it's beautiful. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkwY-IRhevcXh-ddxlBqOw50EzDt5hKnidAIzEpm4OIA3nQuZEc3h2Wm2KvuTsgmYUNLaob4R4jp5ca17XW6IDmJXFppOPpyFx4KOR4tphJ-5c0-LbMZ8kASFA0CNTKx5z9or7If4FDHo/s1600/IMG_9117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkwY-IRhevcXh-ddxlBqOw50EzDt5hKnidAIzEpm4OIA3nQuZEc3h2Wm2KvuTsgmYUNLaob4R4jp5ca17XW6IDmJXFppOPpyFx4KOR4tphJ-5c0-LbMZ8kASFA0CNTKx5z9or7If4FDHo/s1600/IMG_9117.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my favorite wild edible, Sorrel. I never knew it before my business partner showed it to me. Since it's spread like wild fire through my yard. It's everywhere!!! It taste like lemon. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsXy3R1HrZ_UwFi_cyAWT1q0gnhlukuqeStgQxUHIqG6Kk_TZo0tDhToLvkXc0gfqQ1mP4KTZa40ARtgsopRLLfEdYY4mhpU_SQAq-vPRfQf9rMuzjLuVljBG_h1wX5zvEj74rmKmmXEA/s1600/IMG_9124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsXy3R1HrZ_UwFi_cyAWT1q0gnhlukuqeStgQxUHIqG6Kk_TZo0tDhToLvkXc0gfqQ1mP4KTZa40ARtgsopRLLfEdYY4mhpU_SQAq-vPRfQf9rMuzjLuVljBG_h1wX5zvEj74rmKmmXEA/s1600/IMG_9124.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Most of the chickens </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOy6crl22nr1ABSicBu8Ae0tlcsnsRCXjHdYahprs84LeL8GCPGkuXimXFuVknaJd7HFapdrGfmVqZA20FYchtIKTfM-QqTKo7SnTRssS1FDcKbaXucS4qoBgoqNUGwQ7eUtTvmF4yeHI/s1600/IMG_9128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOy6crl22nr1ABSicBu8Ae0tlcsnsRCXjHdYahprs84LeL8GCPGkuXimXFuVknaJd7HFapdrGfmVqZA20FYchtIKTfM-QqTKo7SnTRssS1FDcKbaXucS4qoBgoqNUGwQ7eUtTvmF4yeHI/s1600/IMG_9128.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Little Chicky" with the broody hen. He had a sister but she drown in the water bowl on day two. He's a redstar rooster. We didn't incubate his egg, the broody hen did. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDNLhjjvC1tGIHoyThEYN8t3kwZGBT_LwP8u4Ni_OQhji_RQTCVEujb31f8d77aG3ftQZnt8ukdlEx9SUySac9KhHkfkbG7zBvIyGFyYXbUsTXpxZ_UfKyXIZnDTinirPkvv5jhyphenhyphenTwOtg/s1600/IMG_9132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDNLhjjvC1tGIHoyThEYN8t3kwZGBT_LwP8u4Ni_OQhji_RQTCVEujb31f8d77aG3ftQZnt8ukdlEx9SUySac9KhHkfkbG7zBvIyGFyYXbUsTXpxZ_UfKyXIZnDTinirPkvv5jhyphenhyphenTwOtg/s1600/IMG_9132.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the new "eggmahal" located in the chicken shack. I made it from mostly salvage and bamboo. I designed it to be an egg laying chicken house capable of keeping dry on it's own, without the benefit of the old ass tarp that kind of keeps the chickens dry. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<br />Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-54438673034763230982014-07-23T18:41:00.000-07:002014-07-23T18:41:04.038-07:00Why Does a Druid Ride a Lawn Mower?
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Grw6BxvqZX__DT43DdvHoZaCqVuCQAtHpfA8YQ8BgB_PIIS-AXIDiKjiEHLT9Abp8hCUVg6wW_mdvHHHBHp5i-QT7dIu8MnAKjPKXsSvdoT7aeKxLEAKiua5Vd9Mj9uOCZIqTNsgLGM/s1600/bamboo+slime.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Grw6BxvqZX__DT43DdvHoZaCqVuCQAtHpfA8YQ8BgB_PIIS-AXIDiKjiEHLT9Abp8hCUVg6wW_mdvHHHBHp5i-QT7dIu8MnAKjPKXsSvdoT7aeKxLEAKiua5Vd9Mj9uOCZIqTNsgLGM/s1600/bamboo+slime.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our
industrial civilization seems to me to be in a state of suspended
de-animation. The narcissistic techno imagadget cyborg drones are
anything but animated. Their avatars are all over the internet while
their bodies are aimlessly burning fossil fuels in support of an
insanity continually left unnoticed. A new reality has come into
existence. It's a reality never before seen, and it's a direct
result of the lottery our species won which has paid us in
concentrated golden energy derived from the sun. Most first world
inhabitants have no idea how this lottery pay off has distorted our
collective reality, or that it's a miniscule fraction on the time
line that is the human experience on this living Earth. The portal
by which our first world society now sustains this ridiculous
electronic virtual contrivance, is the imagadget "smart phone."
</span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The
smart phone may be smart, but it's made us stupid. It's become a
perpetual soul vacuum that's sucked the human spirit into it's
electronic clutches. It's attached horse blinders to our collective
imagination and crushed our bodies into useless meat riddled with
nuclear powered cancer and super bugs. Super bugs that are hard at
work creating a future misery the likes of which our anesthetized
imagination cannot imagine. We look through this device to see a
matrix composed of artificial constructs designed to be nice. The
device keeps us all endlessly distracted from looking at one another,
all while we spend all of our time looking at one another while
scrolling through a multitude of lives taking place virtually. What
more does one need than the phenomenon that is the "selfie?"
How have we come to a place where it is considered completely normal
to take a picture of one's self and then post it amongst a cascade of
other selfies? Everybody is looking at themselves through this
electronic mirror. Narcissist's reflective pool broadcast
ubiquitously and completely. It's come to a place where putting down
the drug is no longer possible. The will just is not there. The
truth is that we all know how pointless this distraction has
become...at least deep down in the recesses of our collective psyche.
</span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> We
continue to wake up day after day stuck in this suspended
de-animation. There are simply to many disgusting creatures crawling
around just beneath the surface of the early 21st century human
experience for us to fathom. This pretend land we take selfies in is
made possible by third world wage slavery. The clothing we pay too
much for that is featured in our masturbated pics was stitched
together by a people whom might as well be living in a dumpster full
of our second hand hedonistic stickyness. A dumpster that receives
the shitty end of the planned obsolescence they slave away to create
for us. Then there is the Earth that supports us which we have
turned into a sewer of cast off desires which catches the overflow
from the dumpster those unfortunate slaves live in. Each of us kings
and queens entitled to create suffocating trash in a ritual of daily
consumption. Drones fly and innocent brown people die for the energy
to keep this diseased tragedy going and growing. Of course, none of
this matters in the nice imagadget reality we all inhabit. Well,
maybe not all of us inhabit that reality. I don't.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> My
world mostly takes place outside. Everyday I make it a point to pay
attention to the natural world. That world doesn't require a grid to
sustain itself. It doesn't require ancient fossil energy either.
What it requires is a willingness to participate in the struggle for
life. I'm attempting to learn how to participate in that struggle
with grace and equanimity. This dance happens on the bio side of
biophobia, and it requires acceptance of the gooey, slimey, smelly,
living bodily fluid that is required to support life. It crawls in
the soil and smells of Earth. It grows out of the ground and has an
enduring intelligence the likes of which we should strive to possess.
It pays us in natural splendor, taste, and fertility. It's time
takes place in rotations, tilts, and revolutions. It's life follows
the sun and sleeps on the Earth. This marvelous happening dazzles
the senses in slow motion. The natural magnificence I'm describing
does not show up on the imagadget. It doesn't fit that artificial
electronic mold. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Where
does all of this leave me and people like me? It leaves us stuck
between artificial sustenance and quality starvation. Between
pointlessness and a natural sanity thought putrid and insane by the
imagadget followers. Followers that do not support the efforts
needed most to keep our species healthy and thriving in the
nonindustrial future which we have guaranteed our children will get.
Which isn't a bad thing, it's actually good, but there's a lot of
pain between now and the backside of that good. There's a lot of
disease, starvation, marshal law, war, death and suffering to go
before anything like good will come of it. At least the imagadget
will eventually go the way of the dodo. What this all means to me is
that I must labor at destructive, soul crushing, BAU support to keep
my family out of debt and fed. I'm a nuclear engineer medic turned
riding lawn mower/weed eater operator. I've dropped out of
everything this society has offered up to me. I've done so because
none of it could stand up to my personal sense of ethics. The
nuclear engineering created toxic waste and killed lots of brown
people. The once healthcare turned wealthcare and supported nothing
but rich fuckers and their corporations. We have a large industry
that makes people rich by parasatizing human bodies, and I'm not
talking about the war machine here either. I'm talking about our
wealthcare system. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> This
is all how a Druid has come to ride a lawn mower for money. This is
all why a Druid cuts down trees, pulls up vines, trims ornamental
shrubbery, and does all of the other trappings of conventional
landscaping for money. It's one of the most pressing ironies of my
life (and my employer is a 69 year old retired army Sergeant Major to
boot). I do battle with nature for money, and then I come home and
practice permaculture. I have a permaculture business named Ancient
Earth Design, but nobody wants to pay for permaculture because they
don't see the need for edible landscaping. They all see a need for
the most worthless plants imaginable. Plants that only yield pretty
and nice, but not medicinal and edible...or even useful for that
matter. All of the nice ornamental plant growth gets carted off to
that dumpster full of our stupidity to rot in the landfill with the
diapers. Society pays a lot of money to keep the grass and
ornamental landscapes trimmed up and under control. Society won't
pay shit to have whole systems implemented on their landscape.
Natural systems that work with nature to create abundance by way of
food producing plants and animals. Society has no use for food and
medicine. They're to busy texting, sexting, selfying, and just plan
virtual masturbating to care about the natural world that sustains us
all. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Eventually
the permaculture system I have in place here on this one acre I live
on will mature, and maybe I won't have to work at cutting grass for
other people as much then. I don't care about money, but money cares
about me. I don't care much about society either, but here I am,
cutting their damned grass. I've thought about going back to
college, but then I realized that college doesn't result in a job, it
just results in debt. I know how to read books, and books are free
at the library. Even if college does result in a job it's just more
BAU support. BAU does nothing but destroy life. It produces food by
killing everything in the soil with multitudes of poisons. It turns
brown people into wage slaves and gives everybody cancer. I suppose
none of that matters because the selfie nation doesn't care. At any
rate, in the morning I'm off to go ride a lawn mower and operate a
weed eater. At least nature will forgive me...I hope. It has to
forgive me. After all, I have five different species of bamboo
growing on this acre. I'm nursing the bamboo monster in hopes that
it will grow up and destroy BAU. Consider this your warning! The
bamboo monster is coming to getcha, and when he does this Druid will
stop riding god foresaken lawn mowers. I much prefer the sickle. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></div>
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Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-16563638377513908122014-05-14T18:33:00.000-07:002014-05-14T18:33:32.625-07:00An Unlikely Convocation
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmRos8HB53v1pKb5MFrREbbgKtfjU_fbYzARTpbY2EWO1Q88bTJhoUl-UZwC2cimHFBIAy4iErkum1j5b-WS2h_BB2oFFtk_E6yIongURTVKYQFwuyVtrwcMlKmWYat9UxwknlVa4__c/s1600/GrandDomeRailroad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmRos8HB53v1pKb5MFrREbbgKtfjU_fbYzARTpbY2EWO1Q88bTJhoUl-UZwC2cimHFBIAy4iErkum1j5b-WS2h_BB2oFFtk_E6yIongURTVKYQFwuyVtrwcMlKmWYat9UxwknlVa4__c/s1600/GrandDomeRailroad.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There's
a Knight standing next to me now. He's got a peace necklace on and
he's holding two black and white feathers found in Texas. Before
that, while he was still in Texas, he was holding flowers. He was a
gift given to me by a stoned and druken WASP shaman from Minnesota.
What he was doing in Texas is hard to say, but so is saying what I
was doing there. I was there to meet people I've been in written
communication with for the last several years. Those in attendance
included a shaman, two ritual magicians, a Dentist, a webmaster
hermit shut in from Alaska, a Druid, a Shaman Witch (for now at
least, and born during the Convocation), and two Druid/Shaman Witch
children. </span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> There
were wigs, and boomerangs, and 50 year old Texas spider monkey
dentists 30 feet up in a tree trying to retrieve a stuck boomerang,
and weather magic, and shamanistic happenings, and a 200 year old
pecan tree that was actually Old Man Time, and tractor joy rides
ending in busted hydraulic lines, and Monolithic dome building, and
out door showers erected complete with a Diner noose, hugel beds
constructed, gray water retention snake heads (I dug a big ass hole),
and my wife walked naked down a limestone dry creek bed by full
moonlight...ohh, and I had an actual fox run across my path. Ayden
Zen was in communion with the fox just before I walked up and
interrupted. </span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> You
should have been there for this meeting of minds and souls. I can
speak to what I was doing there now. I was there with my family
looking for some hope. It's looking pretty hopeless out there these
days, what with the writing on the wall and whatnot. BAU continues
until it doesn't. So some Diners got together in Bum Fuck Egypt
Texas to figure on some hope, and to learn how to build Monolithic
domes, which are earthquake, hurricane, tornado, and fire proof
domiciles that can be built for less money than a stick built piece
of shit of the same square footage. These are domiciles that have
withstood 300 mph winds and American Apache helicopter strikes, and
simply need you to shut the door when a fire breaks out (they're so
air tight that the fire will starve for oxygen before it can do much
damage...and anyways concrete doesn't burn). </span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> What's
the point of a fox crossing my path, or any of the other oddities
encountered during the first Diner Convocation? I'm still trying to
figure all of that out, and there's a lot that happened that I won't
be writing about (including what happened after I found my wife
walking naked down the limestone creek bed by moonlight).
Interestingly, while all of this real life magic was going down in
Bum Fuck Texas, trolls were hard a work lambasting the very thing
that was allowing all of the real world magic to occur. Why is that?
I think it's because they are afraid. They don't want to admit that
it's come to a group of internet forum friends meeting in Texas for
difference to be made in this rigged catastrophe of a petroleum
dependent clustercuss. They don't want to admit that
technotriumphalism is not going to save a damn thing...accept maybe
some people from dealing with the thermodynamic constraints we're all
forced to adhere to. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Will
we build domes as a result of this meeting? Is there a chance for
prosperity for normal people in the near future? Is the Orwellian
New World Bravely going to persist and even evolve into draconian
dystopians unimagined by the doomerist doomers? Why does BAU
continue unabated? </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> For
my part, and the part of my family, we've only just begun on this
journey that started here at <i>Epiphany Now</i> and migrated to the
<a href="http://www.doomsteaddiner.net/blog/" target="_blank">Doomstead Diner</a>, and now the<a href="http://sun4living.com/" target="_blank"> SUN</a>. My family is planning a trip to
California soon. We'll be burning a lot of petroleum by way of the
internal combustion engine in our Saturn Vue to make it there. We'll
be camping in state parks just like we did to and from the
Convocation. I've got a cousin getting married, and we've got a
tribe to meet in Fresno. The tribe is a coven of magicians. While
at the Convocation I had visions filled with symbols I'm not ready to
understand yet. My family slept outside of the Toothstead house in
an REI tent titled the "Hobitat." I awoke from these
mysterious visions at the beginning of the Convocation to a monstrous
clap of thunder followed by a torrential downpour. The day before
this I saw intentional weather magic being worked, as well as a group
rain dance in which I supplied the shamanistic beats. Beats I didn't
even know I had. Beats accompanied by impromptu musical instruments
made by using common kitchen utensils (I was using a 3 gallon bucket
myself to drive this thing). This downpour happened amidst a
terrible Texas drought. </span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I
was confused by all of this meaning. I was depressed after it was
over and we returned to our trailer park Whoville everywhere America.
I'm still depressed by how beautiful it could be and yet isn't. How
it could all just mean nothing, and how we could remain stuck here
where the Zombies will eat our table for lunch. Some things in life
do not make sense, and yet they are magical in spite of Cartesian,
Newtonian, and Apollonian logic. I chose to believe that all of the
Convoction magic was just that, magic. It's not as if anyone can
prove me wrong, not when we know that the act of scientific
observation changes the outcome of the observation. Not when the
truth is that we make our own meaning, our own myths, and our own
minds. What's your mind doing about infinite growth on a finite
planet? Mine is creating 21st century living tribes out of the
virtual reality of the net. We've met, in person, in Bum Fuck Egypt
Texas, and we still like each other. We're all who we said we were.
Here's to the first Diner Dome we're gonna build. Here's to a future
where some of us survive and even thrive. Some of us...likely not
many...but at least my new tribe is trying. How about yours? RIP
Mike Ruppert. I'm already not the slowest camper. It may be that my
tribe is the fastest. However unlikely our Convocation. </span></span></span>
</div>
Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-46026564288450879822014-03-20T11:23:00.002-07:002014-03-20T11:23:51.424-07:00The First Diner Convocation<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In
2007 I read James Howard Kunstler's <i>The Long Emergency, </i>and my
life changed irrevocably due to the information I received from that
book. Shortly after, I joined the Kunstlercast forum and posted many
threads and had many in depth conversations about collapse, peak oil,
and the ramifications of our infinite growth on a finite planet paradigm. I also began digesting collapse related books
with precision and efficiency, and I would often order five or six
books at a time by authors like Richard Heinberg, Dmitry Orlov, John
Michael Greer, Michael Ruppert, and Jared Diamond just to name a few.
Figuring out what the collapse of our modern petroleum dependent
civilization meant to me was no easy task. I'm an Aspie, so it
wasn't an emotional affair for me to deal with, but it was stressful
nonetheless, and collapse became a "special interest,"
and it's a special interest that is still current for me. Mostly
because I'm unable to not abide in the truth of things. It seems
this to is part of my Aspie brain (I'll be writing about Asperger's
Syndrome much more in the coming months because I have just recently
stopped being in denial about the diagnosis...but this particular
blog is not the time to do that). </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I
was a daily contributor over at the Kunstlercast, and it was the
first forum I'd ever been a member of. I greatly enjoyed
communicating with like minds on that forum via the written medium.
I fell in love with it actually, and the regular contributors became
my friends (which was great since IRL friends are difficult for me to
acquire). This was a set of people whom would talk about the truths
surrounding PO with me for hours on end, which is still next to impossible to do with people IRL. Threads that would stretch
for days and days. I was a conspiracy theorist at this time in my
life and had been for about five years. The "Kcats," as we
called ourselves, helped open my eyes a bit about the nature of
conspiracy theories and their many half truths. Around 2009 or so I
got tired of the same old shit being discussed over and over again
via countless incarnations on the Kunstlercast forum. It got boring
and I decided to leave the forum without a word about it really. I
just sorta left one day and never went back. I also deleted my
facebook account around this same time and focused all of my writing
on this blog. </span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The
only blog I was reading at this time was John Michael Greer's
<i>Archdruid Report</i>. He came up with the concept of the Green
Wizard, and a forum was devoted to the project, which I frequented
for a while. I had shifted my focus from understanding the nature of
our predicament to wanting to act on the information. What became
important to me was the answer to the question "what am I going
to do about collapse?" The <i>Green Wizard Project </i>(GWP)<i>
</i>was exactly what I needed. The GWP was mostly designed for
solitary green wizards, and it was about using appropriate tech and
about developing strategies that would help with minimizing the
impact that the Long Descent would have on the GWP participants. The
psychological component of the GWP can be summed up by JMG's own
acronym "LESS." Less entertainment, stuff, and
stimulation. JMG advises us all to step back into voluntary
simplicity and learn how to live more in tune with the natural world
and it's cycles and it's renewable pace. I became a Druid as well.
For the next couple of years practicing green wizardry was sufficient
for me as a response to collapse, but that to began to change as my
understanding of our predicament began intensifying. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I
realized that the only chance of survival in a shit hits the fan
scenario, or even just a long descent scenario, would be real community. As far as I can tell, real
community has gone extinct in our imagadget, narcissistic, techno
delusional, American Hologram deployed and Matrix controlled consumer
waste generating stank of a society. I had found fellow blogger
William Hunter Duncan's blog, <a href="http://offthegridmpls.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><i>Off The Grid in Minneapolis</i></a>, via
a comment he left over at the <a href="http://thearchdruidreport.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><i>Archdruid Report</i>.</a> William
resonated very strongly with me (which interestingly enough, William
now works with autistic people as his job). I began following his
blog, and he began following mine. He may well have been the first
"follower" of mine on this blog. We became good virtual
friends and even exchanged books we were writing for back and forth
criticism and suggestions. He told me about a new forum that he was
an administrator for called the <a href="http://www.doomsteaddiner.net/forum/" target="_blank">Doomstead Diner</a>. I went and had a
look, but I still had a sour taste in my mouth after boring with the<a href="http://kunstlercast.com/forum/" target="_blank"> Kunstlercast forum</a>. I looked around and it appeared to be just about the
exact same thing as the Kcast forum with different avatars. After a
short visit I decided that I wasn't interested in joining as a
member (and I just found out, via going to the kunstlercast forum to copy the web address for the hyperlink for this blog that I've been banned from the Kunstlercast Forum for some unknown reason). </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Several
months later I left a comment on Morris Berman's blog and RE, the man
responsible for the existence of the Doomstead Diner, saw it and it
peaked his interest enough to come over here to see what I was about.
William had commented on that blog and RE saw this and apparently
formed the opinion that I may be a good match as a cross poster on
the Diner. It felt good to have somebody seek me out for my writing,
and I was more than happy to have my essays published on the Diner.
I figured since I was going to be publishing my blog on the Diner
that I might as well have a more focused look around to see what was
shakin' in the Diner world. I've been an active participant and a
Diner ever since. Not long after I arrived at the Diner fellow Diner
Roamer arrived and posted a thread titled <a href="http://www.doomsteaddiner.net/forum/index.php/topic,1202.0.html" target="_blank">"Community OwnedDoomstead."</a> That thread lit a spark that found good tinder and
began smoking. Roamer knew about 150 acres in NC that an elderly
couple owned and were interested in allowing more able bodied
individuals to cultivate the land in permaculture fashion. My wife
Gypsy Mama and son Ayden Zen and I all drove to NC to meet Roamer in
person along with his on again off again lady friend. We met in a
coffee shop across the street from the university my wife graduated from, and we all instantly liked each other. It was the first
time I had ever met a virtual friend in real life...making Roamer an "in
real life" friend as well. This was a very exciting and
important step for the Diner. As it turns out, Roamer, GM and I's
meeting was foreshadowing the now not too distant future. The 150
acres didn't work out on account of dementia and Cat Food Carol, but
that's a long story (and you likely already know it if you're reading
this blog). We came a pubic hair away from the first Sunstead (at the time
it had been dubbed the Foxstead) within weeks of the first attempt
that the Diner's made for a community owned doomstead. </span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> We've
since been working towards figuring out how to bioneer our way into a
petroleum scarce world. We've been trying to figure out how we move
forward from this point. How do we structure a new way to inhabit
the land and use it's resources to meet our basic human needs in a sustainable and healing way? We
don't want a commune, but we want something intentional that empowers
the Sunsteaders, and gives us autonomy and meaningful community at
the same time. Eventually the new effort was dubbed the SUN project
(sustaining universal needs). Our driving ethic is to "save as
many as you can." This translating into a tribal unit we are
currently calling the "Sunstead." We want the Sunstead to
be a self replicating template that will pop up like mushrooms in
spite of the Near Term Human Extinction (NTHE) meme. NTHE being the
idea that all life on Earth will be going extinct sometime in the
next two decades (as soon as five years from now) due to run away
positive feedback loops running amok in the climate control
mechanisms of our planet. They may be right, but I refuse to live in
a world with no hope, and I recognize that there is no way anybody
can know what the planet will do. While our civilization is
definitely collapsing, and while we are doing our level best to shit
all over the planet that sustains us with our incessant chemical
creation and consumptive waste generation, our planet is a living
organism which we cannot study under a microscope. We can't possibly know how the Earth will react.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The
Sun Foundation is now a 501c3 non-profit organization, and we are
currently waiting for the magic government letter to arrive so that
we can begin accepting charitable donations from people like you,
whom care about the reality outside of the Matrix, and our engagement
with the wasteland we've inherited. In a little under two weeks a
select few Diner members are going to converge on the Toothstead in
Texas for the purposes of the first Diner Convocation, and for
training in Monolithic Dome construction. </span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The
coming Convocation is proof that we're not just a bunch of keyboards
circle jerking into the endless night about how fucked it all is. We
want to do something in the real world about the predicament our
civilization's in. The writing is on the wall, and food prices are
fit to bust any time now due to drought and ever increasing super
storms. I could go on about all of the problems our crumbling
civilization is dealing with, but I've done that countless times here
already. If you don't know what the problems are at this point than
it's because you are willfully deluding yourself, or just don't have
the desire to extricate yourself from the Matrix's mesmerizing
hologram. We're going to meet in Texas, in person, as a symbolic
act, to look each other in the eyes and validate the reality of our
typed expressions, desires, goals, and to engage with reality of the
real, rather than reality of the virtual persuasion. We're going to drink beer and
break bread at a real Doomstead Diner table. We're going to study
Monolithic construction and plant some real seeds of change. We're
going to build a rocket mass heater, have a hole diggin' contest,
possibly film a spoof on the NTHE movie trailer <i><a href="http://vimeo.com/88965655" target="_blank">22 After,</a> </i>and
get to know a handful of Diner's in person. I'll be bringing my
family and my boomerangs.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Most
importantly we're going to ferment in a real life think tank. That's
what the Convocation is ultimately about. For me, it's a vetting,
and it's a chance to look my fellow Diners in the eyes (I know,
ironic considering my Aspie status, but I've always been atypical
even amongst the atypical...consider that the majority of the medics
thought I was weird when I worked EMS to gauge how weird I am...as it
turns out, not weird just not neurotypical) and see what I see. Is
the SUN Foundation worth my time? Is it something that can be real?
Can we actually bioneer a Sunstead, or a Waterstead, or a Foxstead,
or a Doomstead? Can we actually be the force that begins fixing this
clusterfuck of a predicamentation civilization? Does RE really smoke
six packs of cigarettes a day? Is William really bald and in love
with the Goddess? Can Eddie fix my fucked up mouth full of metal
(just kiddin' Eddie...at least this time). Will Haniel and I see
Aspie to Aspie and relate to one another? </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I'm
looking forward to finding out the answer to all of those questions.
For me, the Convocation is my chance to show everybody that I really
am a 6' 4" bad ass Aikido ninja permaculture green wizard druid
Aspie Diner. It's my chance to look them all in the eyes, Haniel
included, in an attempt to pull as much of their true intentions out
so that I can shine my hyperfocused understanding of the human psyche
onto them. Here's hoping we'll all be comfortable, and that William
won't get his feelings hurt when I dig a bigger hole in the Texas
dirt. My wife Gypsy Mama, and my children Ayden Zen and Harper
Tribann will be there as well (as far as I know they're the only
children Diners...hell, Harper Tribann was born a Diner). Several
Diners will converge in two weeks. To hear RE tell about it, you'll
all get a chance to participate in real time on the net. I hear he's
bought all of the recording devices he could find. If nothing else,
for the first time, Diners will break bread at a real Diner
table...in Texas...and I'll get too drunk and throw my boomerangs.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></div>
Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-76204782052637818002014-03-02T13:17:00.000-08:002014-03-02T13:17:55.281-08:00Totem Shift<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI3huHsfm4_tGNeo7uDh56Q5RexmeQtqsx5QiDi1B56Sek-Ekgj-ejtOsU3ZdOsJG9sRxUdOWeRSeIwRY52P01LqlQvVFZjD6AT0zD86_VXBXqWtlNdVc6ZsmOtjkf0HTOkpd_Jf5RkOA/s1600/IMG_5384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI3huHsfm4_tGNeo7uDh56Q5RexmeQtqsx5QiDi1B56Sek-Ekgj-ejtOsU3ZdOsJG9sRxUdOWeRSeIwRY52P01LqlQvVFZjD6AT0zD86_VXBXqWtlNdVc6ZsmOtjkf0HTOkpd_Jf5RkOA/s1600/IMG_5384.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jumping to the Grave</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI3huHsfm4_tGNeo7uDh56Q5RexmeQtqsx5QiDi1B56Sek-Ekgj-ejtOsU3ZdOsJG9sRxUdOWeRSeIwRY52P01LqlQvVFZjD6AT0zD86_VXBXqWtlNdVc6ZsmOtjkf0HTOkpd_Jf5RkOA/s1600/IMG_5384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"></a><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Around
about the time I resigned from the Matrix I had a dream in which the
fox came to me. He scampered out of the woods and made himself
visible to me, and he looked me in the eyes to transfer his magic.
To prepare my mind for entrance into a glitch which would allow me to
mostly be left unhindered from the Matrix's control. Fox imbues the
magic of invisibility in plain site. I
recognized him, and his teaching, and then he disappeared back into
the woods, and I woke up. It was a dream vision. I dubbed our new
home the "Fox Den" and gave the fox a pedestal at <i>Epiphany
Now</i>. About a year after my resignation a real fox was delivered
to the Fox Den, and her name was Pepper (but she went by Bo Beppa).
She was born from domestic dog parents, but she was no dog, she was a
fox. She was the most beautiful animal I've ever had the pleasure of
knowing. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6VKz4NF0KosFD9TXD7qliPEYIyCZYUuynk3wmufqjtODiCk9L1kDiFlf6xwOjHSo_CvcOfaLne9WZCjJrhIEOskrVpLy_WTfBr9EQRObs0lVBuFrTm0gybw348Neot5hxMG2_XkPIdMg/s1600/Fox+Hole.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6VKz4NF0KosFD9TXD7qliPEYIyCZYUuynk3wmufqjtODiCk9L1kDiFlf6xwOjHSo_CvcOfaLne9WZCjJrhIEOskrVpLy_WTfBr9EQRObs0lVBuFrTm0gybw348Neot5hxMG2_XkPIdMg/s1600/Fox+Hole.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Diggin' a fox hole</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A
couple of months ago I was digging in my yard, preparing a hole for a
five gallon bucket full of table scraps. The area I dug in, behind a
swale and berm, is the worst hard compacted clay SC has to offer. I
was tired that day, and I just couldn't get the hole to the proper
dimensions. Pepper loved scrutinizing my holes. She got in the
hole, laid down, flipped on her back, and looked up at me as if to say "this will
do," although I only know that in retrospect. I figured since
she was enjoying the hole, and I wasn't going to be dumping five
gallons of table scraps in it, that I would just leave it for her.
My wife and I had hypothesized that she was actually sleeping in a
hole she had dug in my first hugel bed. She dug holes into all of my
six hugel beds on a regular basis. So I thought maybe she liked the
hole better than what she had dug. At any rate, I moved onto digging
a new hole in a different place in the yard where the soil wasn't
quite so compact. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Around
this same time I had a dream that I was throwing a boomerang in our
yard. I've never thrown a boomerang before, and I had no idea what
the dream meant, but I decided to go online and purchase a rang.
Whatever the reason, I took to throwing boomerangs like I imagine
birds enjoy their flight. It has become a meditation for me, and a
spiritual practice. Boomerangs connect you to the sky and the wind.
They teach you to be still and patient, especially when the wind is
blowing too hard. Half of throwing a boomerang is ability to read
the wind. If you want it to come back to you than you've got to
first know which way the wind is blowing and how hard. Then you have
to figure out how much layover, how hard to throw, which direction,
how high of a release angle, and lastly you just have to get lucky
(at least when the wind is blowing), and if all that is done properly
the boomerang will come back to you. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> We
decided to get Pepper fixed around this time. She was right at a
year old, and we didn't want to breed another dog (I mean fox)
because we have two kids and one pet is enough extra responsibility. Getting her spayed changed her psychology, or maybe it was just because I was in the
fields throwing my boomerang and she wanted to get out of the fence
with me. Whatever the case, she started escaping from our yard on a
regular basis. She'd run off chasing field mice, or voles, or
whatever else caught her noses attention. We live off of a pretty
busy two lane road. About a quarter of a mile before our house the
speed limit goes from 45 to 55, and people regularly travel 60 to 65 mph. Knuckle heads will occasionally use that stretch as a temporary drag strip. It's one of the most dangerous roads I've seen, and
this is coming from an opinion informed by 6 years on a meat wagon.
People get killed all of the time on this road, and near this house
to boot. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I
came home from an ecological design dig in Asheville NC that day. I
was tired from moving large logs and Earth around for a massive
hugelspiral construction we were creating. I got home and left our
fence open. Pepper got out and got herself ran over on that road.
The people across the street called the house, it was about 9 pm, and
they asked "is your dog in the house?" No, I replied.
"Well there's a dog out here on the road that's been run over,
looks like it might be yours." I put my clothes back on and
went out to see about it. There was a large lifted 4X4 truck pulled
over with a kid no older than 20 standing there with a dip in his
mouth. "Over here." He took me to where she lay dead on
the side of the road. I was relieved to see that she was actually
dead because I did not want to have to put her down to stop her
suffering. She lay there in the ditch, with her tongue hanging out,
and just a trickle of blood. Her skin was all in tact, which I still
think is strange having been run over by a large truck. I picked her
head up and sure enough her neck was broken. I offered my hand to
the kid whom had run her over, and I said "it's not your fault
man." He said "I know it's not my fault," got in his
truck and sped off. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I
carried her remains through the dark to that hole I had dug, placed her in it, got the
shovel out of the bed of my truck, and committed her to the Earth. I
cried a lot about Pepper for the next couple of days. I could still
cry about her if I wanted to. In fact, weeks later, it's still hard
not to. It was more than just the lose of a beloved pet, it felt
like a dark magic had descended on the Fox Den. It felt suspicious
and as if some intentional evil had been done. It felt like I had
lost some very important magic myself, as if something was trying to
take it from me. I haven't lost any magic, in fact, I have gained
some. Pepper's job was complete. The fox world vetted me, and she
was the instrument. Pepper was sent to teach me the ways of the fox,
so that I may study them and know them. I like to think that she
knew her body would eternally rest in that hole we dug together.
She's there now, protecting the Fox Den always. I told our three
year old son Ayden Zen that Bo Beppa was invisible now, that she is
with us in spirit but that he would likely not see her again, and I took him
to her grave to let him say good bye. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A
new totem was to arrive shortly after the Fox was finished teaching
me his, or her in this case, lesson. The robin showed up shortly
after Pepper's death. I was in the garden, meditating next to
Pepper, and a Robin landed close to me. The robin looked at me, just
as that fox had looked at me in my dream vision. Only now this was
no dream, this was waking life. I walked over to the robin and he
led me around the yard for a while, not letting me get closer than
five feet. That robin just hung out with me for a while, beckoning
me to listen to what it had to say, wondering if I would accept the
next phase of my totem progression. "I've seen you throwing
that boomerang," robin said to me, "do you really want to
know how to fly?" That was the question robin was asking me.
Throwing that boomerang is like flying. Every time I throw it my
spirit elates with the magical flight path and remains connected to
it. It's as if I'm flying there with it, and apparently the bird
world has taken notice. </span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Around
the same time all of this was happening our house burnt to the
ground. We were renting the house, the only house my wife and I have
ever owned, the one we brought Zen home to from the hospital after his birth. We were renting the house to renters because I could not resign from the Matrix and afford the
mortgage. New renters were moving in that night, and they set a box
on the counter in the kitchen next to the stove top. The element got
kicked on, and 25,000 gallons of water later the fire was out and the
house was gone. Nobody was hurt. Allstate paid the mortgage off and
wrote us a check for the remainder of the policy. The Phoenix is
rising from those ashes, and it has sent robin to teach me the magic
of flight. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Just
before our house burned down I decided, uncharacteristically, that
what I needed was to go to the local park by myself. I drove to the
park, got out of my truck, stretched, and then started running (I
hadn't gone for a run in probably 7 years). It was spontaneous, and
it was as if I was not in control of it. Why had I chosen to run in
the park on that day? So I ran into the woods and onto a disc golf
course. The path started to climb, and I had run about a mile at
this point, and so I decided to walk a bit. Before I knew it I was
walking along a creek, and so I sat down next to the creek to
meditate. Something told me to go 20 yards to my right, up stream,
and so I did, and there in the middle of the creek, a foot beneath the water, was a disc somebody had lost.
I've never played disc golf, but I had always wanted to, so I started
throwing the disc along the path of the course. Five holes later,
and I was on the back nine of the course. I was kneeling down,
looking for the next disc golf basket, trying to figure the course
out. A man in his 70's appeared with a very large dog. I was
eyeballing them pretty hard (probably because of the size of the dog)
and eventually the man asked me "are you security." "No,"
I said, and we sort of walked towards each other and started talking.
</span></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> He reminded me of the cover of my copy of John Steinbeck's <i>Travels with Charlie</i>. Permaculture
came up, as did Bamboo. "I have bamboo," the man said with
elation. His dog's name is Bodey. I have a cousin named Bodey, it's
not a common name, especially not for a dog, and so my attention was
gotten. I had been drawn to bamboo shortly before this meeting. We
swapped cell numbers and he invited me to come by his house to check
out the bamboo he'd planted. A couple of months went by (in which
all of the above story happened), and my wife had started regularly
trying to get me to call the man from the park (Gary is his name).
We were talking about installing a bamboo stand as a privacy screen,
and so I had good reason to go pick his brain. Being Aspergian,
however, it's damn near impossible to get me to reach out to people via phone. Wendy was persistent, and eventually I gave in and called
Gary. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> So
we packed up our family of four, and went to a man's house whom I'd
met only once several months ago. Our son Ayden Zen appears to be
having difficulty with speech. Wendy thinks he may have a lisp (I
just think it's cause he's 3 and a half). At any rate, Gary's wife
had written several books on phonetics...what is this synchronicity?
Gary and I talked bamboo for a while and then he handed me a business
card that he had gotten via his love of Bamboo for a near by company
specializing in bamboo. I put the card in my wallet where it stayed
for a couple of weeks. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I
began researching bamboo online, and then I began digging a trench to
create a bamboo island. The next client for my ecological design
business is a female shaman, and she wants a living privacy hedge.
I'm hopeful I can convince her that there is none better than bamboo
for a privacy hedge. It creates a complete visual block within 4
years. It's the fastest growing plant on planet earth. Wiki reports
that bamboo has been recorded as growing 98 inches in 24 hours. This
is nothing short of amazing, and science is still trying to figure
out just how it's possible for bamboo to achieve this phenomenal
growth. At any rate, it's apparently time for me to learn all things
bamboo, and so I emailed the email address on that business card, and I
asked if I could come pick their brains on all things bamboo. The
business is run by a married couple. Their nursery is really not a
nursery, but more of an experiment in bamboo prowess. I'll have to
pick this story up in the next installment here at <i>Epiphany Now</i>. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> However,
I'll leave the story with this bit of synchronicity and numerology mystery. The day before I went to meet John I looked at the clock at 111, 222, and 444 pm, I never do that. I usually catch it once where all the numbers are the same. The bamboo
business is actually located in the same county I moved from after
resigning from the Matrix. The same county I worked EMS in for 6
years. In fact, my first EMS job, was actually working for the
rescue squad that services the town the grove is in. That town's not
far from where our burnt down house resides. The same burnt down
house that has that Phoenix rising from it's ashes. We drove to the
Bamboo Forest yesterday with Zen and Tribann, to tour it, to learn
all things bamboo so that I can convince a shaman. We pulled up to
the field just in front of this endearingly magical place on Earth,
and there I met John and his beautiful wife. John has a scruffy beard, he's from California, and he has Aspergers (if you don't know, I'm from
California and I have Aspergers). The day that would follow would
prove to be amongst the most magical days of my life. I'll tell that
story next time.</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwG53SSLfUp5nHxc57Rnr5luQkeJDk9F3LU4yb35wWoxBKLXOAkyvgtkKjIhVOi9sI-dRNg2aY_ZzRudodBLtbstSqmu8eAOMv-Q48nULjff_AMtjhqK08bl5pBUQjMxn5h_ekPKcjssE/s1600/Bamboo+Island.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwG53SSLfUp5nHxc57Rnr5luQkeJDk9F3LU4yb35wWoxBKLXOAkyvgtkKjIhVOi9sI-dRNg2aY_ZzRudodBLtbstSqmu8eAOMv-Q48nULjff_AMtjhqK08bl5pBUQjMxn5h_ekPKcjssE/s1600/Bamboo+Island.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Part of Bamboo Island</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"> </span>
</div>
Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-38789495787243187832014-02-10T10:17:00.000-08:002014-02-10T10:17:12.183-08:00Suffering<h1 class="prop-addr" id="yui_3_11_0_1_1391952595421_6605">
</h1>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRDZ5Jgegj3t17O1VAar9DZonPXYDcJG2dq_Vb0W6ppuezuPJDSv6UgOoF9822rfDIm4m7nd15zVLbEa2xRRjFqYSphxTw8C6MyRjrxPcRdzQQiaZGFzdcB6vlCcjXXYmnY8PwerIxEI/s1600/suffering.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRDZ5Jgegj3t17O1VAar9DZonPXYDcJG2dq_Vb0W6ppuezuPJDSv6UgOoF9822rfDIm4m7nd15zVLbEa2xRRjFqYSphxTw8C6MyRjrxPcRdzQQiaZGFzdcB6vlCcjXXYmnY8PwerIxEI/s1600/suffering.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Sometimes
depression is the appropriate response to things. I am an
intellectual being, and that space causes suffering. The things I
write about below are true, all of them, and they are sad, and I
don't want to be happy about them. If you just want to be happy than
don't read this blog. At least not this entry.</i></span></span></span></div>
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<br />
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Did
you know it's possible to hear soul atrophy? And why shouldn't our
souls decide to atrophy? What are we, the industrial grade
consumers, the bomb chronic radioactive waste generators, the
entropic catalytic smoke, the monkey's whom caught cancer of the
mind. What do we need of our souls anyways? We sold them a long
time ago on account of delicate tastes in the finer things in life.
Like name brand clothing made by brown third world slaves, and air
conditioned luxury vehicles. God it's depressing. I'm depressing
myself over here talkin' about how vile my species is. It's true
that exiting the Matrix means no place left to go. At least not
where things are considered normal by societies standards. There's
nothing left but pure unadulterated truth. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I'm
free to see the world from a very unique vantage point. Looking from
this high peak I can see futility moving across our psychic
landscape. That we should pay by selling our very lives to afford
ridiculous stick built nonsense overhead...and drywall. That we spend
so much time trying to figure out how to come up with this
requirement called money, and this while some men just create it out
of free flowing electrons and call it "quantitative easing."
What the fuck does that term even mean in reality? That some men
get to control the daily realities of a planet full of life? Some
men get to be rich while the rest get to be poor. Poor of heart,
soul, and spirit, and poor in flesh. Our flesh is even made of less
quality than it used to be. We used to be composed of 70% good ole
fashioned corn molecules. Now we're composed of high fructose
gentically modified and radioactive Monsanto frankencorn molecules.
Along with some 200 other man made chemicals that are floating around
in our mothers wombs along with our future progeny.</span></span></span></div>
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<br />
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I
can envision a world much different from the one we are in now. A
world where integrity, honor, compassion, self worth, and love are
central to the political decisions that must be made. Why is it that
for one group to prosper another group must get shat all over? Why
is it that for us humans to be happy we have to kill everything else
healthy about our planet? The answer to both of those questions is
that neither have to be true. We can have a world where there is
surplus amongst healthy natural systems. We must have that world,
but all I see is fear painted on the faces of every automaton, and
fear ensures that we continue getting this same cancerous, made from
virus, reality. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I
see cell phones plastered to the side of every motorist, and when the
screens aren't stuck to the side of the head they're out front
gettin' texted (sounds dirty doesn't it). What do we need with all
these god damned electronic screens? They aren't reality, even
though we make them so. You can occupy Facebook with art all you
want to, it's still taking your energy and making you narcissistic.
Why don't you go occupy one of your "friends" house? I bet
if you did go to your friends house they wouldn't notice you due to
all the electronic idiot panels. They'd likely be to busy liking
their friends on Facebook to notice your "in real life"
self standing there. Why should they notice you? If they noticed
you, they might then be forced to notice something outside the
window, something that's outside where the nature is. </span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> There
ain't shit natural about an idiot panel imagadget (and for the
record, I'm no damn gadget). All of this virtual reality makes real
reality diminish. The more we give our energy to those screens, the
more our souls atrophy. You can hear the sound from outside of the
Matrix. Yet due to the interconnectivity of all things, you can also
hear your soul being sucked into the mess, and against your will.
We're all drowning alone together, and we're all miserable, but we
keep on insisting we must drown to death on comfort and plausible
deniability. We insist that what we are doing is okay when it's
anything but. It's not alright to continue living the way that we
do, our highest good being trash generation for profit, all while
serving as slaves to a machine that itself is receiving palliative
care by way of digibit printing. It will continue spittin' those
ones and zeros out until either we use all of the fossil energy, or
the use of that fossil energy finishes choking all life off of this
planet, or we do something about it. </span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> So
what are we going to do about it? I refuse to continue with business
as usual, and I'll refuse any response that requires more of it. You
want to own the land? How can you own the land? Even in the
delusional version of land ownership you still have codes and taxes,
both of which require money. Money for you to go get. You don't get
to just print the money either, that's reserved for your masters, you
have to sell yourself by the hour for it. There are those whom just
have a lot of it. Those of us whom managed to have the brains to
figure out how to get it, or were just connected enough from birth to
the source of that magic digibit lever up in DC. The way I see it,
those of us whom were born short changed, need to start taking from
those whom have always had. Exactly like Robyn Hode.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I
don't know exactly what that looks like yet. It's just an idea I've
just started to think about. What is right and wrong in our world
anyways? Is the highest good to honor land ownership? Some bankers
said this piece of ground is yours (as long as you comply with codes
and pay your taxes) and you can do as you wish with it. Then that
same banker said that his corporation was a person with the same damn
rights. Now that corporate person decides to shit all over his land
with chemicals designed to bring death to healthy cells, with
radioactivity, with poisonous food, and with "water" that
can be lit on fire. What better symbol do you need for how fucked
things are when you can light your tap water on fire. I'd laugh my
ass off about that if it weren't for the unfortunate fact that
there's nothing funny about it. The message I receive is that it's
alright to be a corporate person and shit all over the land with
death agents, fuck the water up, heat the planet up, kill everything
that's not human (and even kill humans if your an empire) for no
reason, and all of that's just fine with the "law" of the
land. This is the same law that I'm supposed to respect? The same
law that you are supposed to respect? </span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Well,
these are the laws that make our present world. Yeah, but at least
we've got ten million food products with high fructose petroleum
sugar and we're not hungry...all 7 billion of us...and counting. I
keep looking for an answer to this trash dump we've created for
ourselves. I'm convinced there's not one spot on this planet without
man made trash. Nature doesn't make trash. It makes feces, but then
it uses that shit to pretty much perpetuate itself, until we came
along and came up with the concept of shit, and now our leaders get
to shit all over us and everything else. Maybe its all some fucked
up God joke where everything shits on everything else until the end.
Humans crave suffering like fish crave water. </span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"> </span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="prop-addr-city" id="yui_3_11_0_1_1391952595421_6607"></span></h1>
Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-13922837892606766202014-01-23T15:13:00.000-08:002014-01-23T15:13:55.675-08:00Relese Your Inner Rock Angle
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPa9j7IYdHZhMDBWAYe4xn-X8Yyga9g3gvHyMElHoXjJq3ecpfC0FdtVC2ArPf380JDvj5IFgSrWxl4X1gZoTUJyldpngHhglLBfvFdGVmWC1cxc8DtSCkwe1v8wvz0EbEVVk9XK8J6Mo/s1600/rock+angle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPa9j7IYdHZhMDBWAYe4xn-X8Yyga9g3gvHyMElHoXjJq3ecpfC0FdtVC2ArPf380JDvj5IFgSrWxl4X1gZoTUJyldpngHhglLBfvFdGVmWC1cxc8DtSCkwe1v8wvz0EbEVVk9XK8J6Mo/s1600/rock+angle.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I've
been quiet lately here at <i>Epiphany Now</i>. I'm suffering from a
bit of reality induced writers block. I'm tired of doom, and the
amount of doominess that's just outside waiting for me, and you, and
anybody else not anesthetized on fukitol, corn beer, and big idiot
clowns smashing into each other for the purposes of moving a pigskin
around on fake grass. Even the fuckin' grass is fake in that wallerd
out carcass of a long past stinkin' dead horse that is American
football. Even the name is arrogant since football (as in the game
where you kick a ball around with your feet) is probably one of the
oldest sports. A game that's played and recognized globally as
football, but here we call it soccer and reserve the name "football"
for a sport that has very little to do with kicking a ball. It seems
we can't even be honest about our sports, and that we need to be
exceptionally different along with how we measure things. The rest
of the world uses metrics, what with it's easy to understand
increments of 10. </span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> What
of the metrics of the future? Agreeing on how we measure that, be it
with metrics or standard, they both spell the collapse of our complex
civilization. Not a collapse fit for television or the big screen,
but one fit for a detention room with a group of misfits nobody wants
to be around (that's the rag tag group of genius boomers at the <a href="http://www.doomsteaddiner.net/forum/" target="_blank">Diner</a>... well actually the Diner is a good cross section of different ages). Each year will be shittier for more people, and
eventually you may be amongst their roles. Present and not accounted
for as an economic non-person who's been pushed to the margins of a
collapsing society without so much as a reach around for the years
spent servicing that big tube up your anus, stuck there by the
machine, and always sucking memories out to feed the bullshit black
hole that the American Hologram projects into every mush for brained
i gadget wielding cyborg. Where reality is presented on smaller and
smaller screens that we all hunch at, growing crooked, and gnarly in
our weaknesses with obsolete flesh. Flesh composed mostly of man
made chemicals...flesh maintained on genetic modification and powered
by ancient fossil sunlight, as <a href="http://thearchdruidreport.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">John Michael Greer </a>recently dubbed
petroleum. </span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Why
should those internet i gadget cyborgs look away from their ithingies?
Why should they wake up and notice that memory hole tube up their
ass that's powering the Matrix? We can't all be Neo, and it seems
whenever he tries to make an appearance he's whisked away to a
kookville for profit, corporatocracy owned private prison (it's interesting to me that Google Blogger doesn't recognize "corporatocracy" as a word). Those
state of the art prisons they've been steady building need prisoners
to remain a profitable business. You can't make money on building
and running prisons with no prisoners now can you? It helps that the
laws have been rewritten so that we can be deleted in some forgotten
military prison that's tucked away where nobody will ever notice.
They might as well just send us to the land of away, with the rest of
the trash in our consumer fueled "landfills," or trash
dumps as I prefer to call them. At least that's an honest
description. The place where our inability to think past the newest
flavor Dorito goes to rot, along with any chance at a future that
doesn't resemble something you'd likely find somewhere in a smog
choked Chinese slum, or an Indian one for that matter. There's
nowhere left to go from here except straight into what's left when
the fog from a perpetual progress myth dissipates, and there's no
longer anything that agrees with the stories you tell yourself...that
you verify with that imagidgit and all of those stupid scripted
stories that pass through that memory tube up your ass. It's always
convincing you that what you need is to work more hours for less pay
and no benefits so that you can afford to support those slums that
steady chuck out shit for you to buy. Shit that breaks just as soon
as you bring it home. Your home being just a place for the thing to
pass through on it's way to the trash dump. </span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> How
empty can we imagine ourselves to be? Can we get much more empty
than a paradigm that mines the wealth of nature for the production of
trash? A system that subjugates everybody to it's incessant worship
of profit as the only sacred. The game is rigged. You gotta have
money to play. Now you gotta comply to the new wealthcare mandates
or be fined, leading to imprisoned...eventually. Just being alive requires that you pay, and only money
will be accepted as payment. Well, that's not true, there is also
the option of an all expense paid incarceration in one of those for
profit prison businesses where you can make a few cents a day to pay
for the cigarettes that will hopefully kill you before your prison
gay cell mate decides to push your shit in. It doesn't sound that
bad does it. It sounds like you could almost learn to enjoy having
your shit pushed in doesn't it?</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The
trouble is not in imagining a world where money is not required. It's actually quite easy to imagine. It's
just that you'd be imagining a lie. Money's not going to go away,
and nor are the men whom control it's completely hallucinated nature.
In fact, those men control trigger happy goons in police suits. And
those police suits revel in their high tech deadly weaponry, and in the sound that
their boots make when they stomp on your freedom to be a slave in
this Orwellian New World Bravely that's become the reality
surrounding the imagidgits we're all plugged into. Well, we're not
all plugged into them, at least not unconsciously. There are those
of us whom are trying to come up with solutions to all of this
totalitarian tyranny over nature and the mass human mind. We're out
here hiding in plain site where we are free to think about the world
outside of the Matrix. Hiding in glitches hoping for a miracle and
trying not to fall prey to near term human extinction nihilism (or
one of those shit pushin' in prisons).</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The
way forward is to no longer care about the Matrix and the goons whom
worship at it's suffering feet. We need to collectively turn our
backs on the system. I'm trying my hardest to do that, but there
aren't many options and it requires a bit of luck to pull off. We
don't have the money to build a future before the Matrix grinds to a
halt (one stair step at a time all the way to collapse). The answer is as simple as access to land so that we, the
unplugged and empowered forward thinkers, can begin setting up the natural systems
that will sustain us. It's easy to do! Real easy on the ground, and
especially while we still have tractors and chainsaws. <i>Restoration
Agriculture,</i> permaculture, ecological design, and perennial
agriculture are all ideas that seek to implement the answers to all
of the problems we face as a species. </span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Money
stands in our way, true, but more importantly we stand in our way.
We need to get out of our way, and that's exactly what us Heliopaths
are trying to do at the <a href="http://sun4living.com/" target="_blank">SUN Foundation.</a> We are trying to believe
that as bad as the endless procession of problems we face on this
planet are, that they are not insurmountable. There has to be a way
through the endless storm that industrial civilization is proving to
be. We've turned ourselves into slaves and are doing our level best
to destroy life supporting biomes on this planet. As a Heliopathic Rasta Man Druid
it's my job to figure this shit out (and it's okay to laugh at my dumb ass self applied moniker). As a father and husband it's my
responsibility. Hell, as a sentient being with access to abstract
thinking, it's my responsibility to figure this out. This is a call
for help. If you are reading this, and you have not been to the <a href="http://sun4living.com/" target="_blank">SUNFoundation website</a>, please do drop by for a visit. Have a look
around and ask questions. Join the dialogue about how we're going to
fix this mess and contribute to the solutions we're so desperately in
need of. </span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I
believe that the solutions to the demise of this industrial
civilization will have to be small, grass roots, decentralized, and
connected to the natural world, just like SUN Foundation is. The solutions will not happen if you
don't try to pull them out, if we don't try. You, I, the other
guy...us all. The goons are coming for us all sooner or later.
Their masters already have all of your rights locked safely away at
the bottom of the Land of Away with all of our mindless consumption,
and that's all right next to the shit storm future we've left for our
children. I refuse to be a part of a wealth pump that grinds up
whole mountains, and oceans, and peoples just to spooge it all back
out onto itself and everybody else in an endless act of hedonistic
narcissistic greed. We fuel this machine with our apathy. We give
our power away for the right to consume imagidgits and America's Got
Talent. Let us take the land back, and so take our power back. Help
us figure out how to do that. Become a Heliopath and help the SUN
Foundation come up with the solutions to our problems. We're
interested in solutions at <a href="http://sun4living.com/" target="_blank">SUN</a>. Solutions that will weather the
building storm. Got any ideas you want to share? </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The first person to guess what a "rock angle" is will get a bottle of SUN sauce...my fermented hot pepper sauce mailed to wherever they want it free of charge (and there are two possible answers I'll accept). Here's a hint...it's a word that my son Ayden Zen McCarty thought up. Guess I should prepare to give away two bottles. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here are some pictures of one of the ongoing SUN Foundation projects. It's a monumental hugelspiral. The hugelspiral will be completed once we wheelbarrow 12 yards of topsoil on top of the 2 yards of mushroom compost, on top of about 6 yards of leaves, on top of white pine, poplar, oak, and maple sourced from the land. </span></span></span></div>
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Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-76995716427633439942013-12-06T06:02:00.000-08:002013-12-06T06:02:12.270-08:00Pit CompostingCompost is about like anything else as an isolated subject. It can be as simple as a stinky anaerobic mess in a pile, or as complicated and expensive as a mechanical device with aeration holes that spins on a timer. Personally I've tended towards the former during my career as an aspiring green thumbist. When I first started gardening in 2007, composting was the first piece of the gardening puzzle I gazed upon with Aspergian hyperfocus. I read books written about composting and nothing else. I studied composting...a process that occurs naturally, regardless of the books or the study on my part. I made large piles of organic nitrogenous materials mixed with the more ubiquitous carbonaceous biomass, at the perfect ratio of 1/30...or 1/20...depending on your source, and I turned those piles with a pitchfork on a regular frequency. I sprayed the piles with water to keep them at that perfect and mythical "wet as a wrung out sponge" dampness. I even stuck pvc pipes with holes drilled in them down into the piles to increase oxygenation. All of this effort was to achieve the perfect black gold to amend my intense garden beds with, and to do so as quickly as possible because that was the challenge. For a while, I was composting kitchen scraps (and anything else of organic origin) with a sense of pride and achievement. After I tackled the art of making perfect compost, my gaze was focused elsewhere in the gardening world, and I began my decent back towards anaerobic piles covered up with enough biomass to stunt the stinch. <br />
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After reading <i>Gaia's Garden</i>, I was convinced that the compost pile was a waste of effort for myself. You have to pile the kitchen scraps up somewhere, at a bare minimum, to create compost. Then you have to apply that compost somewhere, at least for it to be of some use to you. Last season I dumped a five gallon bucket full of kitchen scraps into a simple compost bin, and covered it up with straw or mulch or weeds, and repeated all season long. I probably dumped 20 buckets onto a heap that stayed at about 3 feet in diameter and about 3 feet tall...all year. The compost was literally being eaten by the soil life, and I imagine it became so rich in that place that nutrients began leaching into the sub soil, into the water table, and away. While this situation is certainly better than sending all of that biomass to the landfill, it wasn't much of a yield for me. I ended up with one wheel barrow load of compost that I applied to one bed. All of that effort just for one garden beds worth of amendments. Granted, any chance to participate in any kind of garden alchemy, I'm game, but this seemed too...inefficient for my liking. I've since converted from composting in piles above ground, to pit composting. <br />
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Pit composting is an idea I can get behind. It's simple, effective, and it minimizes work on my part which frees me up for other things (like telling my son no, and stop that, and put your wiener up). It certainly isn't a method for everyone. Dig the hole deep enough, and cover it up, and even dogs will leave the mess alone. You can literally compost anything you want (pending it's actually compostable in the first place). You won't have to concern yourself with nitrogen/carbon ratios, moisture, or oxygen content. No turning of a pile, no checking of temperatures with compost thermometers, no worrying about a pile bursting into flames, no worrying about unwanted volunteers sprouting up, no concern for attracting varmints, and no obnoxious smells to piss the neighbors off. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeTSIcRRA1tBL_y_IOrBwjg1tAi47jaqsCgsUA3v6gbdhBfOzhSIY_7JU7HYBsdJUrWV2YOLM_zZAhgqsRwU7VXAXRkR3_U3Ncfzg5CSSRka9hAVEQX-dmPp4A2q5K7aZHVj2JlsHpWWM/s1600/IMG_5585.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeTSIcRRA1tBL_y_IOrBwjg1tAi47jaqsCgsUA3v6gbdhBfOzhSIY_7JU7HYBsdJUrWV2YOLM_zZAhgqsRwU7VXAXRkR3_U3Ncfzg5CSSRka9hAVEQX-dmPp4A2q5K7aZHVj2JlsHpWWM/s320/IMG_5585.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dig a hole</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dump 5 gallon bucket full of kitchen scraps in hole</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGAS7LuZ3-4CO0BC7IMg3PxpE-hk-NDfuT96KvJRFhYYkHD5FUIyqz-9gPc3wTKlP72_RNlYhb2cErDwOzosAFw5DzANzX1hAdH2skkP0Xzo65H7vGB01jQMp7M2Rby5zVWRYGROueGWA/s1600/IMG_5588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGAS7LuZ3-4CO0BC7IMg3PxpE-hk-NDfuT96KvJRFhYYkHD5FUIyqz-9gPc3wTKlP72_RNlYhb2cErDwOzosAFw5DzANzX1hAdH2skkP0Xzo65H7vGB01jQMp7M2Rby5zVWRYGROueGWA/s320/IMG_5588.JPG" width="320" /> </a> </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">here you can see that I dug the hole on the down hill side of a berm</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Allow local feral fauna to inspect and taste kitchen scrap slop, to determine it's of no interest</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjclyRAizQ7ZCC1RYt9zuEVgrFGYF4RG3qM4ua6gRW5nWr-sGVZaCioowyvnrotakL8yhIgAjzaBqct6K67GbK07fuu-uPVVzeueAGkWL-a3pImZU5lkNX0v3R8F8RBbSjXQ3ZEQRPlXc/s1600/IMG_5593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjclyRAizQ7ZCC1RYt9zuEVgrFGYF4RG3qM4ua6gRW5nWr-sGVZaCioowyvnrotakL8yhIgAjzaBqct6K67GbK07fuu-uPVVzeueAGkWL-a3pImZU5lkNX0v3R8F8RBbSjXQ3ZEQRPlXc/s320/IMG_5593.JPG" width="320" /> </a></td><td style="text-align: center;"> </td><td style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fill hole back in</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd2xcRAN8msWQjQeX4Ud9mfF12MkRrVE47ltRSQUqjUk07du-DSZjeSUUqDF5JqNUq-Bl0BrOt80UJmUwBK5d18eRomdMO-IIcGW1Epg6QcD43ZmeiZ7_9Ow0xSf1yBUzH9k586859MIo/s1600/IMG_5595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd2xcRAN8msWQjQeX4Ud9mfF12MkRrVE47ltRSQUqjUk07du-DSZjeSUUqDF5JqNUq-Bl0BrOt80UJmUwBK5d18eRomdMO-IIcGW1Epg6QcD43ZmeiZ7_9Ow0xSf1yBUzH9k586859MIo/s320/IMG_5595.JPG" width="320" /> </a></td><td style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ZM0mMqg8mVfk3GDY-cfbjdiwxTr6u1RUYTSyEuvabZocU6ERVjE5KzoKEngSyqLBZTnF75-9Ev7q03tH1JIuhZ0WQvyFdEil0c6tlWjc3ltE_nJe89VFYaP90_gC_wGoWz9mZqpXluA/s1600/IMG_5612.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ZM0mMqg8mVfk3GDY-cfbjdiwxTr6u1RUYTSyEuvabZocU6ERVjE5KzoKEngSyqLBZTnF75-9Ev7q03tH1JIuhZ0WQvyFdEil0c6tlWjc3ltE_nJe89VFYaP90_gC_wGoWz9mZqpXluA/s320/IMG_5612.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoy couch meditation in front of the idiot panel with your children, secure in the knowledge that you are saving kitchen scrap from the landfill, and increasing the fertility of your land by enlisting thousands of different life forms beneath ground to do your work for you. If you listen closely, you can hear the earth worms thank you.</td></tr>
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Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-55065270746769890542013-12-03T13:39:00.001-08:002013-12-04T06:30:25.738-08:00Earth MovingI've got a lot of opinions about the world. Opinions about what is real and what is propaganda in service of the Matrix. Opinions about spiritual matters and meaning, about the best way to raise children, how a hole is best dug and what a good beer should taste like. Opinions are like assholes in this world full of them. So, due to my particularly cranky, old jaded man like attitude towards the state of affairs in the world, I've decided to just start being the change as an MO. So expect more pictures and videos in the future...and probably less opinion about the world. Less social criticism...more doing as <a href="http://offthegridmpls.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">William Hunter Duncan</a> has recently propounded. <br />
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So I dug that swale out and then it rained.<br />
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I know I sound like an idiot, but I can assure you that I am no idiot. When I moved to this property in February of 2012, all that you see in the above two videos, at least in the fenced in section, was nothing more than bermuda grass, dandelions, and wild garlic that was all cut on the lowest setting with a riding lawn mower. I have grown lots of food, and I have imported loooooots of free biomass. The system is maturing all around. I'm growing soil and capturing rain water and sun energy. It's beautiful.<br />
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I'd say, outside of being here everyday for my family, the best part about dropping out of the Matrix is the ability to live my life how it is supposed to be lived. My wife told me the other day that she had read a blog written by a hospice nurse about the most common regrets that patients on their death beds have. The most common was regret for not having the courage to live their lives on their own terms, and not due to the worlds social and programmed expectations. That is what I'm doing. I'm living my life based on my moral north, my bliss, doing what I'm meant to do. My wife and I are fulfilling our purposes together, with children, and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever participated in. <br />
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I ask you, dear reader, what is an hour of your life worth in dollar figures? Not just one hour, but an endless precession of hours, until they end that is, upon your death. What is that hour, just before you die, worth? Personally I am incapable of putting a dollar amount on even my last second, much less hour. This is where you must put meaning into perspective. I've met the reaper in person, up close and personal. I know his inevitability, and the hubris created between his inevitability and our pride and selfishness. The irony is that the most selfless thing you could possibly do is to undergo your own self actualization. Because it's true that you cannot possibly expect to be loved if you can't even love yourself.<br />
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I believe the job that we all must do, for the world, for our children, and for ourselves, is to fulfill our purposes. Not to blindly follow the programming that tells us that a job is the highest good. Make your own damn job, and that job is to do what you are called to do, and not what you are paid to do. The money will come, as if by magic, and you might find that the Stones were right, you'll get what you need. Do not be afraid to live your life for your highest purpose. After all, there is a high probability...if you live your life on the terms of others, that you will regret it on your death bed. Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-78060803023562180282013-11-23T18:50:00.001-08:002013-11-23T18:50:58.625-08:00The Birth of Sun Harvesters<br />
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The above picture was taken from inside of a swale I just dug out at the Fox Den. The fox in the picture is my companion fox, and she goes by Bo Beppa. I was taking the picture when Bo Beppa jumped into the frame unexpectedly, making the image serendipitous. <br />
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I dug this swale, measuring at about 2 feet deep by 2 feet wide, with an accompanying 2 1/2 foot berm, and about 50 feet or so long on contour, in two days by myself. <br />
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I busted through South Carolina clay fit for a pottery wheel, and South Carolina rock that had bands that crumbled like salt. <br />
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I dug this swale to capture water and build soil. During the spring, when we get torrential rain, I hope this swale stays full more often than not, and I hope that an underground lens of water forms. If that happens, then another hole which I've dug at the lowest point on the property, about 25 yards away from the swale, may fill with water from that lens. However, that biggest hole, at the bottom of the property, will fill with water because all of the water striking my property has been directed to that spot. <br />
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I used an A Frame Level, which I constructed from scavenged and excavated bits. I used an old broom stick, a piece of wood that was scrap from a previous project, a piece of trim from a 1969 Airstream International Sovereign land yacht, some cordage, and a rock I dug out of the ground in Asheville NC on a previous paid permaculture dig. It was a crude instrument that I made simply to last for this one job. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi712hLvHCYJDi2xBJQthMOz7FJWzVUFykAipllQuXr9I47WoyTCwt5a67l-V2rwWkIRmPISUisYOPOPMRn99Juy22rBhWnYhD1mad5aC5Oj8jYecVhIEsm9OcMQ1pgq_lbntGAdzo0-PM/s1600/IMG_5237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi712hLvHCYJDi2xBJQthMOz7FJWzVUFykAipllQuXr9I47WoyTCwt5a67l-V2rwWkIRmPISUisYOPOPMRn99Juy22rBhWnYhD1mad5aC5Oj8jYecVhIEsm9OcMQ1pgq_lbntGAdzo0-PM/s320/IMG_5237.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
But an A Frame Level must be used because placing swales on contour is a counter intuitive thing. You can't see that level of slope and land movement. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one of the various rocks I dug up in Asheville NC </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Today I jumped the chain link fence that separates my property from a trailer park. And I racked up a shit load of leaves that fell from a massive oak tree and placed them on my side of the fence. A few roads down I could smell the smoke from yahoos burning the leaves that fell on their property. I suppose they lack the knowledge, or concern, or brain cells to know that burning leaves is a border line retarded thing to do. Concentrate them on the earth and let the earth worms eat them and shit them out. Earth Worm poo is as fertile as soil fertility gets. Building soil is not that complicated. Concentrate organic matter, or biomass, and if you do nothing else it will eventually become fertile ground for life to grow. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_235RM789LLxOthWQtQ4TeN0K1YWEnjIU4wbTEb8IfuyFnDIGUfFF8kH82390mTUtHqOv3f3DxAojPAiHpkkplqAcKD1wpfZm2AVh0yoYHVUYQwGyC_4eYE0knUH8yjHC6L_n-9p8NY8/s1600/IMG_5386.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_235RM789LLxOthWQtQ4TeN0K1YWEnjIU4wbTEb8IfuyFnDIGUfFF8kH82390mTUtHqOv3f3DxAojPAiHpkkplqAcKD1wpfZm2AVh0yoYHVUYQwGyC_4eYE0knUH8yjHC6L_n-9p8NY8/s320/IMG_5386.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
I placed many of those leaves on the back side of the berm I had just created. I plan to place a couple inches of mulch on top of those leaves, once I drive back to the county dump to get another truck and trailer load of free mulch. I have to fork that mulch myself, and I have to pic the trash out of it, but it's free and it's a very diverse mixture of woody plant material. Lots of people worry about things like herbacides and pesticides accompanying the free mulch. My argument is that the mostly perennial and ornamental woody plant material I see being trucked into the dump, to be ground into mulch, is not the type of plant usually sprayed by homeowners. It's just pruned and driven to the dump, where the trash in the back of the pickup truck and trailer gets ground along with it. <br /><br />
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I'm building fertility on this acre of land that I've found myself a husband of. I'm using the principles of permaculture to guide me. I'll be starting a business one of these days, but I won't be calling it permaculture because that word is in the process of cooptation. I won't be co opted, nor will any organization I'm involved with. I'm doing ecological design. I'm using my brain along with intuition and spiritual guidance to create a landscape that allows regeneration, fertility, and life all to flourish. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi51v3rEMq74sassmNGVHyWJqHU93V5PMIkn7X12NvyjisT33aYZF7XV0OVLVnzryd9QLhLylEjqCn2H3Bn27lSy3ibdtzgfz8SLpprreFJAU0gw-jwGNqTZa5tKJNNRp7B3TgmAFREnaA/s1600/IMG_5414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi51v3rEMq74sassmNGVHyWJqHU93V5PMIkn7X12NvyjisT33aYZF7XV0OVLVnzryd9QLhLylEjqCn2H3Bn27lSy3ibdtzgfz8SLpprreFJAU0gw-jwGNqTZa5tKJNNRp7B3TgmAFREnaA/s320/IMG_5414.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zen busted open a dried out gourd on the concrete after an impromptu game of "kick the gourd." It ended up in the future pond, and some type of green growth emerged on the gourd. You can see four gourd seeds still attached. It is sitting on top of mulch from the county dump. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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This is what I spend my time doing these days. I dig holes, direct water, collect and concentrate biomass, and I sift through the literal waste stream of an empire drunk and glutted on the end of the age of petroleum abundance. I have dropped out of the Matrix and no longer pay in any attention. Maybe my actions are futile due to radioactively contaminated Fukushima rain. Maybe Obama's hench men will show up and cart my ass back off to the solitary cell they've created for my kind. Mostly resistant to the bullshit destruction for pigmen profit, I carry on with my blissful work of concentrating the raw ingredients of renewal and regeneration. I'm an earth moving alchemist concerned with the quality and ecology of living soil. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaHLxQJqO_5i2gDnWaLlE010-p_z_5avQer-9r4hadUPb7-X8tSglFMozAJLqOlKDT50sIx_A4NAmELCJgZ1VBhMTHeaj2fMeyrR5o89ALmkQLNNsD4Zksr5D__4w2jDwvgN3U9Yu8c7w/s1600/IMG_4739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaHLxQJqO_5i2gDnWaLlE010-p_z_5avQer-9r4hadUPb7-X8tSglFMozAJLqOlKDT50sIx_A4NAmELCJgZ1VBhMTHeaj2fMeyrR5o89ALmkQLNNsD4Zksr5D__4w2jDwvgN3U9Yu8c7w/s320/IMG_4739.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the top of my truck, before the swale.</td></tr>
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The only meaningful action for anyone to take now, to give our children a chance to eat, is to begin concerning yourself with sustainable food production. As in, we need to begin seeing ourselves as sun harvesters. We need to design our society with this as our central purpose. I see a symbiotic dance between the plants and animals on this Earth. We can orchestrate this dance like conductors, and that should be our place. To concentrate natural processes in an attempt to create the most life giving fertility possible is the loftiest of goals for our species just now. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6BkGMaGzxICvbZ-pE15ruEjP1ScnaCSlGTKoglSS80YMe3FEwDAJJ3S-PHjx8ctFu3c4EJZu4iAIfNihc38PwCDpBDY8xRduSg_J-wHcdOCvMD30Kun6XA3MK1R1kUF6Dzb5LJsNQdE/s1600/IMG_1503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6BkGMaGzxICvbZ-pE15ruEjP1ScnaCSlGTKoglSS80YMe3FEwDAJJ3S-PHjx8ctFu3c4EJZu4iAIfNihc38PwCDpBDY8xRduSg_J-wHcdOCvMD30Kun6XA3MK1R1kUF6Dzb5LJsNQdE/s320/IMG_1503.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zen swimming in the first pond I dug out after a good rain</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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So I've sort of rambled and ranted towards the summary of this particular photoblog. I've got many more pics up at the SUN Foundation site www.sun4living.com You can see them <a href="http://sun4living.com/?p=419" target="_blank">here </a><br />
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Hopefully someone with great means will show up and donate a large tract of land for the first Foxstead to materialize. We are now a 501c3 foundation with a bank account. Go and visit the SUN site to learn how you can help create a realistic alternative to the end of petroleum abundance. A realistic strategy for dealing with the transition from a first world empire, to a third world slum. Or just go back to your ithingy and mindless idiot panel entertainment in service of BAU pay checks and pointless poisonous existence. <br />
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There is too much for us to be doing to be wasting our time in perpetuity for pay checks. We can sustain our own universal needs if we just believe. Even with radioactive rain falling from our corrosive chemical sky, we can seek shelter beneath a forest canopy under which we have built culture and food. Even when it all burns down we can survive, and we can thrive under a new paradigm that honors our sacred connection with the natural world. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUZUiwYKaPPkYO60OIGvPS7nl4zz1dp_sW_l1o3c01DOkxLc3lUzTxnUWFUY0ztH8EO7_sE_XJ1Mh1lU_0tzCqvs4R4IvD3GxxglcjPf4pskjqNjP4dI8hkUVrB86YufNXap6NSKsOlc4/s1600/IMG_4888.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUZUiwYKaPPkYO60OIGvPS7nl4zz1dp_sW_l1o3c01DOkxLc3lUzTxnUWFUY0ztH8EO7_sE_XJ1Mh1lU_0tzCqvs4R4IvD3GxxglcjPf4pskjqNjP4dI8hkUVrB86YufNXap6NSKsOlc4/s320/IMG_4888.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what's left of the home I currently have a $744 per month mortgage on. Hopefully Allstate does what they are supposed to do. If they don't, my wife and I will default on this loan and my credit will resemble this burnt out shell. Fortunately we have exited the Matrix and so none of this matters to us. Yet, I brought my first baby boy home to this house. I still can't believe it's reality. </td></tr>
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Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-76224684933616694552013-11-07T09:08:00.000-08:002013-11-07T09:08:08.151-08:00Hugelesquely Inspired First of all, let me just say that Blogger sucks with uploading pictures. When I uploaded them Blogger rearranged them all. I don't know html coding so I can't go in to fix it that way. That forced me to attempt moving pictures around in the "compose" option. You can move a picture up one at a time, and it's tedious. But then half way through the process it stopped allowing me to move pictures...so they are out of order. Which sucks because I was attempting to show the steps I went through in constructing this last hugelesque bed...I say "esque" cause I'm not sure it qualifies as a hugelkulture bed. The first four pics were meant to be the last four.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUZswA5vjEPnuIi3cd2Ielcthrn-NJ9WCXHuI6agm94vNCd495QKrdNfzpYaMpPP46sM7sxH_3B4CuS6CjHRMYaizBjg0b_InwlyIUgb6gB42ecoaBSvBUs0o5uiZXsWzcQTV5qoM7e2w/s1600/IMG_4666.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUZswA5vjEPnuIi3cd2Ielcthrn-NJ9WCXHuI6agm94vNCd495QKrdNfzpYaMpPP46sM7sxH_3B4CuS6CjHRMYaizBjg0b_InwlyIUgb6gB42ecoaBSvBUs0o5uiZXsWzcQTV5qoM7e2w/s320/IMG_4666.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pepper diggin' in one of my unfinished hugel beds</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmGjSLmFyTBEE67uX9uOFDDPDzK8jDOVWrh90uUgbTeM9-72zrvcc5IRRwZQGofq09Jgx9hCqAbiG2823yb7YM-YHVra5-lfY85G58PHvuWRVzJylElTQMsBgAeaBK4NeDjMUADuDN6JQ/s1600/IMG_4660.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmGjSLmFyTBEE67uX9uOFDDPDzK8jDOVWrh90uUgbTeM9-72zrvcc5IRRwZQGofq09Jgx9hCqAbiG2823yb7YM-YHVra5-lfY85G58PHvuWRVzJylElTQMsBgAeaBK4NeDjMUADuDN6JQ/s320/IMG_4660.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carolina Blue </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCjU0BDc5qcwmpBrE27bzYBQNR3hL7Yv1XigQ5JcxH04wTXkcIemd7lJVGdLIM6OA8X7-ZedCH8d0MWNAFOG6BT1X95B2OCGUVHZc4Fl5dfVJPf8dri4KL5JgbmTPVRA7Dek0ZGwOQ83E/s1600/IMG_4618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCjU0BDc5qcwmpBrE27bzYBQNR3hL7Yv1XigQ5JcxH04wTXkcIemd7lJVGdLIM6OA8X7-ZedCH8d0MWNAFOG6BT1X95B2OCGUVHZc4Fl5dfVJPf8dri4KL5JgbmTPVRA7Dek0ZGwOQ83E/s320/IMG_4618.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For the ladies...me movin' some mulch around.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv6JKS3teli7C5Rj7wNhudJPxav9juYW40zNbfdXg35-CHQ-8zd4g_3MAXVzx1BTnDmfRsn-kAwE7G-7wO-KtAtjy3hZcD4hU1KcjTgD0BLQXslzhz_fN5D5BgTxlofE5vaHHlWJrVipc/s1600/IMG_4670.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv6JKS3teli7C5Rj7wNhudJPxav9juYW40zNbfdXg35-CHQ-8zd4g_3MAXVzx1BTnDmfRsn-kAwE7G-7wO-KtAtjy3hZcD4hU1KcjTgD0BLQXslzhz_fN5D5BgTxlofE5vaHHlWJrVipc/s320/IMG_4670.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bo Beppa (what I call pepper) diggin' still...you can see a chicken feather. It got there because I harvested the chicken bedding to add as a layer of fertilizer</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzz_ISRCxo3NU6KdhV1x4VOcMcoHKkMKr6fpRDAH9p9-mbY1PPOsGEjuKvt13TERRvU3RHz39NxPowhLOSOwPOchrJ1ygUaNqJB-MvkEMUVl_K8W1rIAyEMwLVivUDzHAa6jvcWVjEYLg/s1600/IMG_4671.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzz_ISRCxo3NU6KdhV1x4VOcMcoHKkMKr6fpRDAH9p9-mbY1PPOsGEjuKvt13TERRvU3RHz39NxPowhLOSOwPOchrJ1ygUaNqJB-MvkEMUVl_K8W1rIAyEMwLVivUDzHAa6jvcWVjEYLg/s320/IMG_4671.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a load of hay that I acquired via a local business called "Cowboy Connection." I buy hay from them every once in a while to place in the coop. Every couple of months they sweep out the hay room and I pic up the hay for free. I use it for building soil or as bedding. Also use it for humanure (although right now the humanure operation is on hold for various reasons). This load was used for constructing the latest hugel bed. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5GWd8MGkD-wLEzeYF2IlDxUMBYiB_RQuSN-7CD5B5koGVaeH2CxZBDjih-QKKSYz9HE4jDDjfXO86V1icasSbe-mQ2VmGlSZunJ-_oTnI9qNNsdcOey6N0S8FFOf3OvgQLklEib68WI8/s1600/IMG_4672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5GWd8MGkD-wLEzeYF2IlDxUMBYiB_RQuSN-7CD5B5koGVaeH2CxZBDjih-QKKSYz9HE4jDDjfXO86V1icasSbe-mQ2VmGlSZunJ-_oTnI9qNNsdcOey6N0S8FFOf3OvgQLklEib68WI8/s320/IMG_4672.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the southwest bed. You can see a couple forks of hay at the bottom of this pic. That is actually a hole that I dug last year to collect water. This bed had peppers that had been overrun by basil. I pulled the basil before this pic obviously, and it can be seen laying in the center of this bed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcajaUcflPXENpabsp5eYFODY_QHHR59Cv8A9BcqkHLzyvSspgZZ4MHKpvA4UYywiakAy7Q4j0CCjuT4hrwE2tQVEykxowG-wlcvHbFe35OrSnoSnrhUAwmnFIsumZ6wVfnGDNFWBecuo/s1600/IMG_4699.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcajaUcflPXENpabsp5eYFODY_QHHR59Cv8A9BcqkHLzyvSspgZZ4MHKpvA4UYywiakAy7Q4j0CCjuT4hrwE2tQVEykxowG-wlcvHbFe35OrSnoSnrhUAwmnFIsumZ6wVfnGDNFWBecuo/s320/IMG_4699.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is about a week worth of scraps from the kitchen (the black is coffee grounds)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsY_HFNTJ5z9nM0Rn-a1290bAE3wD4tS66OtfLPU8paFR5yD9qGb7qgHDNEV8sISG2lD2tbc8j0P6_qYrgh8Xu8q8x0aShJayn-X9UD0Oeugjr__lLdPeuZrIM15p4Wux6JlHGfe6LPf8/s1600/IMG_4701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsY_HFNTJ5z9nM0Rn-a1290bAE3wD4tS66OtfLPU8paFR5yD9qGb7qgHDNEV8sISG2lD2tbc8j0P6_qYrgh8Xu8q8x0aShJayn-X9UD0Oeugjr__lLdPeuZrIM15p4Wux6JlHGfe6LPf8/s320/IMG_4701.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here you can see the contents of that compost bucket dumped on top of hay at the North end of the bed.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnce5SGU0hz3waPtUC-seTCdC8GmaqIIzprxn6HeOWu3z4aflz59ESJFzhXv5RYCBz_c6c-biC9WFRCIZ8bEZvZmwJxpG5dYXgg7D5QK7qavd3rEEvumfTQOowYA1otzOM5UZqEsgO46g/s1600/IMG_4705.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnce5SGU0hz3waPtUC-seTCdC8GmaqIIzprxn6HeOWu3z4aflz59ESJFzhXv5RYCBz_c6c-biC9WFRCIZ8bEZvZmwJxpG5dYXgg7D5QK7qavd3rEEvumfTQOowYA1otzOM5UZqEsgO46g/s320/IMG_4705.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I then covered the compost with more hay</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjX9khBCRChpupuenopNfJUivY-cpahBxOAau7QOT7wSGZIuakN6RJICMVAHHTPXtJCNyLOEvyUG9ULRLI8w997qCuEJikCZtgMdL4YNgjrNFdv0UFB7vgPaVECQFxp3YmAvLLn4cUJDk/s1600/IMG_4711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjX9khBCRChpupuenopNfJUivY-cpahBxOAau7QOT7wSGZIuakN6RJICMVAHHTPXtJCNyLOEvyUG9ULRLI8w997qCuEJikCZtgMdL4YNgjrNFdv0UFB7vgPaVECQFxp3YmAvLLn4cUJDk/s320/IMG_4711.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here I added some wood that I acquired at the county landfill while also acquiring free mulch. When I get mulch I always walk around and grab whatever logs and sticks escaped the mulch machine. I bring the wood home for hugel bed construction and for fire wood.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWljBM2Rl3wAkPcX8oOOyPYWIdwG1ui2kXINiNromMcmTqC-IrFF5qWdWIuDk5FVPOAe71s8KwndMdjFuDYELUOCe4JQFmn4v5NcVTE7lqDCUR0oSqBdxWp3e2B3Ic8oc9aG1OWrV_Wjw/s1600/IMG_4730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWljBM2Rl3wAkPcX8oOOyPYWIdwG1ui2kXINiNromMcmTqC-IrFF5qWdWIuDk5FVPOAe71s8KwndMdjFuDYELUOCe4JQFmn4v5NcVTE7lqDCUR0oSqBdxWp3e2B3Ic8oc9aG1OWrV_Wjw/s320/IMG_4730.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here you can see more compost spread on top of the hay. This compost came from a compost pile that is pictured further down. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVTjSJkHbOjxLYJi3gD-meiB7Z1OM9dFmvmkQbboPQaJui76h1zJjmAK7GvMVZoS8Jpo4MAlC9Njjfw8YiNpcSvjjm5KGOzc2P5psXdXrc3Rpm_bP86Ccg7wcUZKQUpD05xQ1l0xNKdM/s1600/IMG_4709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVTjSJkHbOjxLYJi3gD-meiB7Z1OM9dFmvmkQbboPQaJui76h1zJjmAK7GvMVZoS8Jpo4MAlC9Njjfw8YiNpcSvjjm5KGOzc2P5psXdXrc3Rpm_bP86Ccg7wcUZKQUpD05xQ1l0xNKdM/s320/IMG_4709.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the South end of the South West bed. I worked in two sections because I had that hole to fill on the other end. I left one basil plant in the ground, you can see it on the top right of this picture.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji34olQraLEbO_kcF3xjPJnhpLOAEE9GWuiqmxyx332ghkgHrV4ZtvqonLTioEr5o3PrcHrSKhCi9MXq8Od8pmwReyQbYIzrQid2bhS1D-pJdQe3-AQYbU0Y5ReNOQhKvJdZT53S4rjI8/s1600/IMG_4713.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji34olQraLEbO_kcF3xjPJnhpLOAEE9GWuiqmxyx332ghkgHrV4ZtvqonLTioEr5o3PrcHrSKhCi9MXq8Od8pmwReyQbYIzrQid2bhS1D-pJdQe3-AQYbU0Y5ReNOQhKvJdZT53S4rjI8/s320/IMG_4713.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To the right you can barely make out the compost because I dumped all of the mulch to the right. The compost bin was made from rabbit fencing. I just make a 3 foot diameter circle with the rabbit fencing and it works great. This is spring and summer compost. That five gallon bucket was dumped into that bin and then covered with hay or mulch about 15 times. It composts down to nothing. All spring and summer and I ended up with one wheel barrow worth of compost. </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHWfsxNKpjZMHRBFRrcFCGl3x_eIhqSnzBbU1bWwRQR27XDuFt2jIMQFKFNdimWcOY2EG3TtlMyvQHyI8OJP-j-r9c5xKO4IQdaEU8DMXKYu3vRY4wjmaHW_LyNTPQ1Xz11Ei_4vEaNe4/s1600/IMG_4717.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHWfsxNKpjZMHRBFRrcFCGl3x_eIhqSnzBbU1bWwRQR27XDuFt2jIMQFKFNdimWcOY2EG3TtlMyvQHyI8OJP-j-r9c5xKO4IQdaEU8DMXKYu3vRY4wjmaHW_LyNTPQ1Xz11Ei_4vEaNe4/s320/IMG_4717.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiusC4gss9erBO-9Nj09jwpVUkqpD3j8qeXiZmBdZYh7TNf5iIcgbOecawEFT5redDygVFnPp3vt-GXJx3Ft9NkzVXubl4mbJdIFkLIsXpqrCAS14RBGDpq0IBxC_Rn6BHB_8GqvPu45ts/s1600/IMG_4718.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiusC4gss9erBO-9Nj09jwpVUkqpD3j8qeXiZmBdZYh7TNf5iIcgbOecawEFT5redDygVFnPp3vt-GXJx3Ft9NkzVXubl4mbJdIFkLIsXpqrCAS14RBGDpq0IBxC_Rn6BHB_8GqvPu45ts/s320/IMG_4718.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwUx_QnH0sxCCcQQLffpM-TooOnO-_Sg8QLAC7163bwMllrRwD9gWwmCRL80GEg6GaANBwvpuxQfMQoLhMR_B74TEp18gOK9_ddZWe7C4Mv59WBTgQFM3NuWZT9erBRmMlkJNgnwc0474/s1600/IMG_4731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwUx_QnH0sxCCcQQLffpM-TooOnO-_Sg8QLAC7163bwMllrRwD9gWwmCRL80GEg6GaANBwvpuxQfMQoLhMR_B74TEp18gOK9_ddZWe7C4Mv59WBTgQFM3NuWZT9erBRmMlkJNgnwc0474/s320/IMG_4731.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here I made another tribann with landfill wood. I've also already spread the above compost across the entire bed.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoI6o6OVxLOf88Ijx3eRBZei5TB-frVylH90Oj59dlmOxpcT_edQd3uqGJZJlXzSxqaX29aS4lUt3W2Q0crPLYA923QPu3o48ABekNL6X9FE0lGhJxadCZAv12F7YljHF6lFkNU6StgO0/s1600/IMG_4733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoI6o6OVxLOf88Ijx3eRBZei5TB-frVylH90Oj59dlmOxpcT_edQd3uqGJZJlXzSxqaX29aS4lUt3W2Q0crPLYA923QPu3o48ABekNL6X9FE0lGhJxadCZAv12F7YljHF6lFkNU6StgO0/s320/IMG_4733.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi545Mhsx5Z4FD4GNiWVsS9WfiUZNNBcPBetd0Vz7GnoNZwPZcq4jDmAcImktk0uiaWx-GufRxUgFlSsc7ePcIHMGlqccfsh54DiUmgW1AcslY-FPOdKsHy3dzT4_M8yWjbxFWayrRzHmk/s1600/IMG_4739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi545Mhsx5Z4FD4GNiWVsS9WfiUZNNBcPBetd0Vz7GnoNZwPZcq4jDmAcImktk0uiaWx-GufRxUgFlSsc7ePcIHMGlqccfsh54DiUmgW1AcslY-FPOdKsHy3dzT4_M8yWjbxFWayrRzHmk/s320/IMG_4739.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I stood on the roof of my truck to get this pic</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl7i6YCMOWrVECS3RinXK6XddMsHGsFNsC0tfhyphenhyphen0sxkVc_EsK1NNMXdAxBpBuMI4RgVr3HJhyphenhyphen020exZNQWYv7UALytSvZ8BVgeYHYH9gMNJKt7A62Cg6xIqPgy9eueaWbm77E3TX7TxdA/s1600/IMG_4742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl7i6YCMOWrVECS3RinXK6XddMsHGsFNsC0tfhyphenhyphen0sxkVc_EsK1NNMXdAxBpBuMI4RgVr3HJhyphenhyphen020exZNQWYv7UALytSvZ8BVgeYHYH9gMNJKt7A62Cg6xIqPgy9eueaWbm77E3TX7TxdA/s320/IMG_4742.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">see</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1qxlqAXmTqiQHDmDHMbs34r9IkgU3bXMSGVZZ51Sl_VuCj-Q15Uv-q6k4dUpt2OQRM30RioT2fvAXik3pZjHOe85Ul0FQYPNItox7dE9yIEN3yb5ifyytoBzXHm1x45VlXmYOclXSl4/s1600/IMG_4746.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1qxlqAXmTqiQHDmDHMbs34r9IkgU3bXMSGVZZ51Sl_VuCj-Q15Uv-q6k4dUpt2OQRM30RioT2fvAXik3pZjHOe85Ul0FQYPNItox7dE9yIEN3yb5ifyytoBzXHm1x45VlXmYOclXSl4/s320/IMG_4746.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are three beds here that make up the invoking and south facing end of the tribann. They are hard to see due to changes over the year in plant growth. It's hard to tell also because I have spread mulch around. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHolkk_BBPdrDxz0jB0R0T3vJJKELir0W4m19OV2ym5LGXTJVY-pBzREXQrPB095Cr2WjehQxH7BW4fShhN_3M3Tp5mT-dizaJN52V4CJV81-kgQQVrzt0f-IDjd1aj_2DCYYpjCsd4H4/s1600/IMG_4747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHolkk_BBPdrDxz0jB0R0T3vJJKELir0W4m19OV2ym5LGXTJVY-pBzREXQrPB095Cr2WjehQxH7BW4fShhN_3M3Tp5mT-dizaJN52V4CJV81-kgQQVrzt0f-IDjd1aj_2DCYYpjCsd4H4/s320/IMG_4747.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here you can see three beds a bit better, although the tribann is loosing it distinctness because of the North West bed (the bed shown at the bottom of this pic). I made what I'm calling a "keyhole hugel bed". You can see to the right, that there is a small area not covered with as much mulch. That is the entrance into the key hold hugel bed. Lot's of microclimates are going to exist in that bed. You can also see the gypsy house (two car garage) and the chicken coop just to the left of it.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigA3NzJMFUmhXTVNzv_WaM4hWCXm1OAYpzSfT21p6dVJy2rdETxk5PIJltWBgjHZFMjQHxmhMnsK-kVseMv-CTjPEmzd0QguMY9sThR3Fh_7jRsToH9i0BfVzlTwgGQmCxX6bOZhv-f0U/s1600/IMG_4751.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigA3NzJMFUmhXTVNzv_WaM4hWCXm1OAYpzSfT21p6dVJy2rdETxk5PIJltWBgjHZFMjQHxmhMnsK-kVseMv-CTjPEmzd0QguMY9sThR3Fh_7jRsToH9i0BfVzlTwgGQmCxX6bOZhv-f0U/s320/IMG_4751.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkvhJhxQ0xUftqJcehW13YPY2yImiqz-bUf4BqovletU8iErw6n63pAzeuXq_Wfi9A3aF4soeCn7mw6WRbPjhNNY3HnQr_obYVDAsCSvk4HTs8VOeHzko2RYCqVfX2sg9wORxNfQjBg_g/s1600/IMG_4755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkvhJhxQ0xUftqJcehW13YPY2yImiqz-bUf4BqovletU8iErw6n63pAzeuXq_Wfi9A3aF4soeCn7mw6WRbPjhNNY3HnQr_obYVDAsCSvk4HTs8VOeHzko2RYCqVfX2sg9wORxNfQjBg_g/s320/IMG_4755.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzTqR7Z7E21CzgXgNXbKvWr-gNIs-t3NT1VYX6Bn7ZpEaO8yIS8ln8Tckn8d9cakHFkzxOKsL59EUvYOq1nAaNdORxF-Nu1db3S99RNwPSS28_hKQoViaTeKw2XptFyS17DJz8TsmRoQ/s1600/IMG_4758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzTqR7Z7E21CzgXgNXbKvWr-gNIs-t3NT1VYX6Bn7ZpEaO8yIS8ln8Tckn8d9cakHFkzxOKsL59EUvYOq1nAaNdORxF-Nu1db3S99RNwPSS28_hKQoViaTeKw2XptFyS17DJz8TsmRoQ/s320/IMG_4758.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I finished up by adding a foot of mulch on top of the mess. </td></tr>
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<br />Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-77547061197625684682013-10-23T19:31:00.001-07:002013-10-23T20:34:45.172-07:00The SUN's Youth Rebellion<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">On
my way to deliver the letter with the magic EIN number on it, I
looked at my truck radio display and it read 3:33. My wife, whom was
at home, looked at a digital clock at that same moment. The radio
station 93.3, that I was listening to had decided to play Metallica's
"Sad But True" for the journey. I pulled into the post
office and watched that letter go down the post office box memory hole as
the last chord from that song rang out. That song from my youth,
when I was angry about life. It was cleansing. </span></i></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><b> </b><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Days
before my 32nd birthday I placed my resignation letter on my
supervisor's desk. This was more than just a resignation from the
career I had worked for 6 years as a street medic for Piedmont EMS in
the Upstate of South Carolina. This was my </span><a href="http://emtmusings.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-resignation-from-matrix.html" target="_blank"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Resignation from the Matrix</span></i></a><span style="font-weight: normal;">, which
was picked up by Michael Ruppert and published on collapsenet as a
free feature article for several months. It wasn't particularly well
written, because I wrote it one night half drunk as a journal entry,
and then emailed it to Ruppert. Apparently he read it and liked it.
I worked a one month notice because that's what my supervisor asked
of me. Her point was that I was going on vacation for two weeks on
the next day, and so would I actually "work" a two week
notice. Just days before resigning from my career I signed up to
take part in a Permaculture class in Asheville NC called
"<a href="http://www.livingsystemsdesign.net/" target="_blank">Permaculture In Action.</a>" It was a 10 day, hands on,
gathering of like minded people spread over five weekends from May to
August. We learned permaculture methods while implementing design
from paper to the land. We didn't create the designs, the
instructors did. This was to be my new career. Permaculture. I
resigned from the Matrix so that I could take permaculture seriously
and devote all of my free time to it. </span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> Starting
in 2007, after reading James Howard Kunstler's, </span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
Long Emergency</span></i><span style="font-weight: normal;">, and
gettin' edumacated to the concept of Peak Oil, I learned that
infinite growth on a finite planet results in a particularly sordid
predicament, and what was I going to do about it? Our civilization
is completely dependent on a shrinking non-renewable resource. Look
around you and notice all of the objects in your view. It's a safe
bet that every single one of those objects has been in a trailer on
the interstate at some point on it's likely over 2000 mile journey to you. It's also
another good bet that some part of all of those objects has been on a
large container ship from China as well. The power you are using to
participate with your computer, the cup of Joe you're enjoying, and
the food that keeps you alive, all have fossil fuel energy in common
(even nuclear power is not possible without fossil fuel energy...at
least as it's currently practiced). We have built our modern day
global civilization on a limited resource! There are a LOT of
ramifications from this one easily understood fact that's placed on
us by the mandates of our physical reality. </span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> Nearly
five years after reading Kunstler's eye opening book, I was in front
of my supervisor turning in my resignation. Five years of rabidly
searching for the answer to the question "what am I going to do
about our infinite growth paradigm on a finite planet?" I had
become a father, and now the ante was raised by several orders of
magnitude. In a label, permaculture was what I found to be the
answer. Permaculture actually addresses a future where there is no
longer any affordable fossil energy. It realizes the precarious
nature our free energy inheritance is leaving us in. Staying alive
as a material being requires energy via food. All 8 billion of us
stay alive right now because we still have the cheap energy to run
the large tractors and combine harvesters, and to manufacture and use
the petroleum based pesticides, fungicides, herbicides, and natural
gas based fertilizers. Our agricultural land has become a moonscape
of dead dirt that does nothing other than act as a chemical sponge.
Nothing can live in the dirt except for the genetically modified
organisms that we've created to withstand the chemical onslaught.
The bulk of the calories that keep us alive, the wheat in our pasta
and bread, the rice in our bowl, the soy bean baby formula in our dairy allergic newborns, and the
hundreds of corn derived ingredients in the nutrition free high
fructose petroleum sugar, and the animal meat that you eat are all
possible because of our massive monocroped agriculture which requires
petroleum energy to exist. Permaculture recognizes that this is not
a sustainable arrangement. </span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> Even
the "organic" agriculture in this country is really just
the same old "green revolution" shit dressed up in a
delusional "we're gonna save the Earth" drag. They spray
chemicals just like their Monsanto dependent counterparts. Granted,
it's better than conventional agriculture, but it's still not enough.
It's not "sustainable." Monoculture agriculture, devoid
of the cheap energy, collapses under the weight of it's own
gargantuan flesh. Permaculture provides the answers to this mess
we're in. I'm always weary of saying such a thing. That this or
that provides ALL of the answers, but it's true in this case...this
is a too good to be true actually being true. Mark Shepard, the
architect of "New Forest Farm" and author of </span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Restoration
Agriculture, </span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">provides
proof to my claim. Perennial forest agriculture is a sustainable
practice that is capable of withstanding a changing climate. It can
provide us with the calories and nutrition that we need to live. The
bulk of the calories in this system come from perennial tree nuts and
animal products like milk, eggs, and meat. Petroleum inputs of any
kind are not necessary (although they sure do help getting the system
up and matured). My point is, Permaculture provides the solutions we
need for the post-petroleum world that we're standing on the brink
of. I know of no other entity which can make this claim. </span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> Given
that you understand the predicament we are in as a global
civilization, and given that you want to do something about it rather
than nothing, what are you going to do? Permaculture can save us,
but it can't save us if we don't practice it and implement it on our
landscapes. I have two children now, Ayden Zen whom is 3 and Harper
Tribann whom is 5 months. They are collectively the most beautiful
thing I have ever done (aside from the Goddess I did to create them).
Next to my family the most beauty I have ever created I have done in
my backyard using permaculture principles. I have no doubt in my
mind that given enough time I'll be able to use this 1.6 acre lot
(and hopefully the six acres that surround the Fox Den that are
currently owned by in-laws) to keep my family thriving, alive and
healthy, and to create a surplus to share with the surrounding
community. I'll be doing this using permaculture principles and
strategies. Permaculture may not provide my family and I with the
money we need to buy the things we buy in this current perpetual
growth paradigm, but it will provide us with the food, medicine, raw
natural materials, shelter, energy, and community that we need to
live a life that is more than worthwhile, but exciting and full of
meaning. With any luck it will keep my tribe out of any kind of
government line.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> I have concluded that there is
no better way to spend my time than permaculture. I can practice it
every day in the company of my family while creating beauty and
regeneration. I believe that is possible. It's already happening.
My plan has been a two pronged plan. Practice permaculture and go to
school for a nursing license in order to ensure my family will have
access to the digibits that are required of us. The problem with
this plan is that it lands me in another wealth care career that I
will not be able to stomach. I burned out after six years on the
meat wagon. But I didn't burn out because of the death, disease, and
destruction that comes with knowing the Reaper intimately. I loved
that part of the job. I revealed in getting to know what the Grim
Reaper actually looks like, and I even got in a few fights with him. </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">A quick anecdote from my real past:</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> I managed to kick the Grim Reapers ass out of the back of my meat wagon once. He made himself my business when someones grandma dropped dead while shopping
at Walmart. She walked out of the hospital a couple of months later
on her own two legs (well, she was wheeled out cause it was hospital
policy, but she was able to walk). One time in six years I actually
got a "save." I burned out due to the bureaucratically
generated bull shit that came from the Bull Shit Black Hole that
feeds our wealth care system. We went from being taught that our job
began and ended with "patient care" to being told that we
were responsible for the happiness of our "customers."
That is how our rotten health care system looks at you now. You are
no longer a patient to heal, but a customer to keep happy. That's
because the lawyers, medical insurance, and big international
pharmaceutical companies dictate the nature of our wealth care. It's
ALL about making money. End of Subject.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I'm not plugging back into the Matrix. I'm going
all rogue Permaculture on the Matrix's ass. And at any rate I
destroyed the ports on my physical body that allow me to plug back
in, anarchy happened to my Matrix equipment. I'm a permanent
inhabitant of what Jason Heppenstall calls </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://22billionenergyslaves.blogspot.com/2013/10/welcome-to-realandia.html" target="_blank">Realandia</a>.
</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
place you come to inhabit when you take the red pill. People are too
afraid to do anything meaningful about our meaningless perpetual
growth paradigm. I'm no longer afraid. I was recently told that
I've "got some balls" to do what I'm doing. Giving the
Matrix the finger and all. I responded to that claim, "well,
they stuck my ass in a solitary cell, and fed me nothing but bread
and water, due to my protest about killing thousands of people via
bombs from the jets launched off of the US Navy carrier I was
splitting atoms on...so I guess I know what I'm up against."
Maybe I do have some balls, but I don't frame it that way. I see it
as that I am doing what I am supposed to be doing. It is my
responsibility to help in this transition that our species is going
through. I have the tools and the mindset. I have the training. In
truth, I have been bred for this my entire life. I have been
searching for something worth my time ever since I can remember.
Even EMS failed me, and I was able to find myself in a moral dilemma
with being the help?!?! That speaks volumes to me. </span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> This is not my resignation to
the Matrix. I turned that in already. This is my "fuck you"
to the Matrix. I'm not afraid of you. What I am afraid of is what
you're ensuring will happen if I, and many people like me, don't
do...something. If we don't resist your stupid dictates than we will
get what your incompetence has planned for us all. We will get a
climate that won't support human life, we'll get more and more super
bugs resistant to our drugs and chemicals, we'll get nuclear
contaminated radioactive material blanketing the globe (this has
already happened...did you know that 14,000 deaths in America are
attributed to the fall out from Fukishima Daiichi), we'll get a
completely collapsed fishery as our ocean loses the ability to buffer
the carbon levels due to acidification thanks to our dependence on
petrochemicals, well get more and more neutered and dysfunctional
governments, well get less and less nutrition in our food, and we'll
get sicker and sicker as Big Pharma crams more and more
frankenchemical fukitol derivatives down our collective throats. The
Matrix has no answers for a world on the backside of perpetual
growth. </span>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> I
will not be acquiring a mursing license from the Ministry of Health.
From this point forward I will be practicing permaculture principles.
I'm now an agent for a non-profit corporation called the SUN
Foundation (sustaining universal needs). The foundation is
headquartered here, at my current residence in the Palookaville
sector of Whoville. I have a gaggle of geniuses on my side over at
the <a href="http://www.doomsteaddiner.net/forum/index.php" target="_blank">Doomstead Diner</a>. Essentially the Diner has become a think tank.
We talk about </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Realandia
</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">and
what we're going to do and are doing about it. The SUN Foundation is
the result of more than a year of this think tank activity. It has
fermented into the SUN and I am one of it's agents. I believe that
the SUN Foundation is a magnate that is attracting the most brilliant
thinkers and doers available. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">We have members in Australia (which is
good due to it being in the southern hemisphere, away from the
potentially 15,000 times more nuclear radiation than the atom bombs
dropped on Japan, ending the second world war, that is damn near fated to happen with one of the next earth quakes, or tsunamis, that are happening at increasing frequencies around Japan), England, and all over
the U.S. Our ideas and tactics will go viral and we will make the
Matrix obsolete. We're attempting to use the Matrix against itself
by playing the game by their stupid rules. If you're interested in
learning more about the SUN Foundation (we're still working on the
website because we just got incorporated) you can go <a href="http://www.doomsteaddiner.net/forum/index.php?topic=1202.0" target="_blank">here</a> and read
till your hearts content. We're gonna fix this mess one tree at a
time. One durable and inexpensive shelter at a time. One Foxstead
at a time. </span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> But
my <a href="http://emtmusings.blogspot.com/2012/02/fox-den.html" target="_blank">Fox Den</a> is still alive and thriving, and it's beginning to
multiply and grow. Like Gremlins, the more bull shit they get on us,
the more we will become. The Fox Den is metamorphosing into a
Foxstead which will in turn replicate into many Foxsteads. Or I'll
fuckin' die trying. They're gonna have to pry my cold dead fingers
off of this Fox Den. I've got a Vixen and Kits to keep healthy and
happy, and I've got a community to build that can withstand the
post-petroleum future they are guaranteed to inherit. What are you
gonna do about that? Dear reader!</span></span></span></div>
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Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-77921749492874582142013-09-14T20:33:00.004-07:002013-09-14T21:11:32.621-07:00Ayden's Inaugural Camp <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There are a lot of pictures I should have included in this photoblog. It's been a while since I've posted one of these. So these pics are from one memory card from one day of taking pictures from one day in the life of the McCarty clan. I've been busy outside, dancing with nature lately while fathering my children, and so too busy to write much. But I trust these pictures say all that needs to be said. So I'll let them say it (although I do add words as captions...mostly because I can't help myself...I have a guilty love affair with words). <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZZCHyXXENBf18jf4pJtS7HSWRiq6N5EgqjxokqH19nK6HB9s3Mjipb_CLyFCbOUjl0eC4yu7_gTBOdwWqhaAz4kMkGAvLJnyfVRI2hh6NVUX98PK_UZ6X4xfimV-5VnMFWUL0eC_nMZU/s1600/IMG_3399.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZZCHyXXENBf18jf4pJtS7HSWRiq6N5EgqjxokqH19nK6HB9s3Mjipb_CLyFCbOUjl0eC4yu7_gTBOdwWqhaAz4kMkGAvLJnyfVRI2hh6NVUX98PK_UZ6X4xfimV-5VnMFWUL0eC_nMZU/s320/IMG_3399.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ayden picked this flower from the hugel bed, presented it to his mother, and then she saw a heart in it...see the heart?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaN9-ZgqqG-R3xsUTStpJH0j46nIQQf-K3OYV1gN-EQ8NbN7c-gmbv-tnNJcmD93CANjcJ0o23TVgvfRyXDrrnPHpsGELn_mdweY3BOTQIF7LBAFja_gf0uj4zVLygeWcMWrPbzcplmZ0/s1600/IMG_3427.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaN9-ZgqqG-R3xsUTStpJH0j46nIQQf-K3OYV1gN-EQ8NbN7c-gmbv-tnNJcmD93CANjcJ0o23TVgvfRyXDrrnPHpsGELn_mdweY3BOTQIF7LBAFja_gf0uj4zVLygeWcMWrPbzcplmZ0/s320/IMG_3427.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hugel bed two still being concocted. All mulch and wood comes from the county dump by the truck load. As in, I go to the dump and fork each load into my truck. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Several days into the moult</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxxhR2QhyphenhyphenUiy77Wh4o04YH1CSnuufTiTn9rCXoOt3LyAl125p98T6vlcSrsA1Ty1bhh4J3JhBHwRYrIqTQBjAQdUqkk9ke2D9-6-iQaZxZ2Qk11v0H6jOpEONCLr2EQzLVWbgqKJ9lPzo/s1600/IMG_3446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxxhR2QhyphenhyphenUiy77Wh4o04YH1CSnuufTiTn9rCXoOt3LyAl125p98T6vlcSrsA1Ty1bhh4J3JhBHwRYrIqTQBjAQdUqkk9ke2D9-6-iQaZxZ2Qk11v0H6jOpEONCLr2EQzLVWbgqKJ9lPzo/s320/IMG_3446.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chicken chillin' I suppose</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ezvdNhdkl4rAG54niuJMYz4U1z0OuSGoDpZ4CnscTxCH16ZV1fbFO3BV_LAfIXGR4nPhwggvGBR1yC8CJ-I56Uv53m5ZejdNaM1g_JM4_hs6YkvzqU5E-Va5iTAye18EYGculGQe92Y/s1600/IMG_3465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ezvdNhdkl4rAG54niuJMYz4U1z0OuSGoDpZ4CnscTxCH16ZV1fbFO3BV_LAfIXGR4nPhwggvGBR1yC8CJ-I56Uv53m5ZejdNaM1g_JM4_hs6YkvzqU5E-Va5iTAye18EYGculGQe92Y/s320/IMG_3465.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harper Tribann McCarty</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbU_pt58qNcNMpjCtDhqaQMZhOST9IPtCMEDJW4lIUxJ2vlm8oNHG7-PgxyEzZVtKkk0hE4rUezglkOIMrpqWAzzDy53fC6YWEIHqiQN6Df_4tzZzKjn3OUYdRzczZqTDB-0nUWInh9_8/s1600/IMG_3476.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbU_pt58qNcNMpjCtDhqaQMZhOST9IPtCMEDJW4lIUxJ2vlm8oNHG7-PgxyEzZVtKkk0hE4rUezglkOIMrpqWAzzDy53fC6YWEIHqiQN6Df_4tzZzKjn3OUYdRzczZqTDB-0nUWInh9_8/s320/IMG_3476.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bo Beppa and me inspecting the Tribann Aji Amerillo plant</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi7F5awuR2mia4tOHVhYqXtJ-mCCl8Z03kT2hJ3DQ_ZrTWnzPuu4yNrTEfAbzD1MiuJ9MrHlEyGmZeeJfhfBOdx1PgEL6dpefOm6WSIw7NMuwCGLSvrpS5KrzZ1zrAicB4e8lVLAYbaQw/s1600/IMG_3481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi7F5awuR2mia4tOHVhYqXtJ-mCCl8Z03kT2hJ3DQ_ZrTWnzPuu4yNrTEfAbzD1MiuJ9MrHlEyGmZeeJfhfBOdx1PgEL6dpefOm6WSIw7NMuwCGLSvrpS5KrzZ1zrAicB4e8lVLAYbaQw/s320/IMG_3481.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This North West facing bed, that completes the Tribann my garden is arranged in, upgraded for fall with a fresh load of mulch</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOMcxPjMbgWHs-b3k0ZV32ayJJ7nSAXkDTPy6h0UCyU5bR44mMeZCmT2AbqchwEhRgENvMvj62uFQrJZbZUYexj-Gf2MFl_eznGo0a4FXsMT5fO96EpLZhbSIX3oyov-ewgWKz1v1CHGw/s1600/IMG_3483.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOMcxPjMbgWHs-b3k0ZV32ayJJ7nSAXkDTPy6h0UCyU5bR44mMeZCmT2AbqchwEhRgENvMvj62uFQrJZbZUYexj-Gf2MFl_eznGo0a4FXsMT5fO96EpLZhbSIX3oyov-ewgWKz1v1CHGw/s320/IMG_3483.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl5LmwszV0D0h_x01sEAkdx-7EfN9cv4DbZj45qFF2xThwM3EUAjW8Nmf0p-NhB1Mm8vM_YTLFOuq0Am2bjjpFpZBrkyY9Xmo6jU90vVMwCKS3LGFAv-KoklsRxzj2gVctbZKR22fclbk/s1600/IMG_3486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl5LmwszV0D0h_x01sEAkdx-7EfN9cv4DbZj45qFF2xThwM3EUAjW8Nmf0p-NhB1Mm8vM_YTLFOuq0Am2bjjpFpZBrkyY9Xmo6jU90vVMwCKS3LGFAv-KoklsRxzj2gVctbZKR22fclbk/s320/IMG_3486.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This Habanero plant has two Habaneros on it...it was ripped out of the ground in late spring and transplanted into the NW bed, I reckon that bitch is gonna be hot...and I've learnt that peppers like to be smacked around.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw7vZGoOGe79A5Vx33QG3nUJ2CTswYTDZznVf75u5xU3pJ6zBb5IadI2I8TeXcUA_JvIY4-9eW5Mc2JT8GLEDERbF7X5HzZS1yObyw5neLWcRjXHeUBJiIzwFbtochCN9r31uZmD-dc4A/s1600/IMG_3494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw7vZGoOGe79A5Vx33QG3nUJ2CTswYTDZznVf75u5xU3pJ6zBb5IadI2I8TeXcUA_JvIY4-9eW5Mc2JT8GLEDERbF7X5HzZS1yObyw5neLWcRjXHeUBJiIzwFbtochCN9r31uZmD-dc4A/s320/IMG_3494.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tribann's foreskin is buried beneath this plant...Aji Amerillo turning orange and picking up strong citrus overtones in the ripening process </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi196cyDOF_uE4Yz12wCKQhyphenhyphengq1mdvjB1AUqHZpXs_wdW7NQFp6DDWVAmn83ULrx6Z7z1fZU2yfr-9gqQXMGc6FvAQLE5I5aOQpHXTy3FUSBEabs2ZdHD5F1BPjsZzxmbvGogos9lzSgQ0/s1600/IMG_3495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi196cyDOF_uE4Yz12wCKQhyphenhyphengq1mdvjB1AUqHZpXs_wdW7NQFp6DDWVAmn83ULrx6Z7z1fZU2yfr-9gqQXMGc6FvAQLE5I5aOQpHXTy3FUSBEabs2ZdHD5F1BPjsZzxmbvGogos9lzSgQ0/s320/IMG_3495.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A 19th century coal burning stove in the North bed</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFxeQjJOKQ5fAz5Gf6RlGen4zlwEMxfvDykqXshq9tSkYuI-gDR3_rpA_hlFgLMX_tmD6OzxG0vd_hyphenhyphenZa-uDaPW1ULVsYeaLpVwPqMhkvIRRS7g2Dlqie_4ClYmiaArujBu9iqoQOR_VE/s1600/IMG_3496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFxeQjJOKQ5fAz5Gf6RlGen4zlwEMxfvDykqXshq9tSkYuI-gDR3_rpA_hlFgLMX_tmD6OzxG0vd_hyphenhyphenZa-uDaPW1ULVsYeaLpVwPqMhkvIRRS7g2Dlqie_4ClYmiaArujBu9iqoQOR_VE/s320/IMG_3496.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my attempt to keep the chickens off the bed long enough for some winter rye and hairy vetch to sprout...so far so good</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ojYZvBUVmxtK3KuLFgI8IPs_gLK4CDYbyzHL46p0If_OkGT8ZHgU4hRq_4bw6WYrMeQBcBEYIfZZLxSDMs85r36BV33u76xmNn7GjvYYy0_cOg3Zcl8PS9SAGmSwbMXNf_1Ul9AGwu0/s1600/IMG_3501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ojYZvBUVmxtK3KuLFgI8IPs_gLK4CDYbyzHL46p0If_OkGT8ZHgU4hRq_4bw6WYrMeQBcBEYIfZZLxSDMs85r36BV33u76xmNn7GjvYYy0_cOg3Zcl8PS9SAGmSwbMXNf_1Ul9AGwu0/s320/IMG_3501.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The new south east to north earth hugel bed land bridge</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsuA8279nxP4nnz-Z0OzIPyY8V8ZnUfqwOu1NzStr1tJZnp4GmX7AnA0uRacHtLTZV2Z2uxtg3jQybwrXghQpsZ2ugsL3J7BXILxniZQZhxhFYWfU1aPXwJ9KgwnjxXXqFmuVfljW7zoY/s1600/IMG_3502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsuA8279nxP4nnz-Z0OzIPyY8V8ZnUfqwOu1NzStr1tJZnp4GmX7AnA0uRacHtLTZV2Z2uxtg3jQybwrXghQpsZ2ugsL3J7BXILxniZQZhxhFYWfU1aPXwJ9KgwnjxXXqFmuVfljW7zoY/s320/IMG_3502.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCH4yv6TXkguJVznMl3BViH-t4HruWFHU290X1OqMTLQ8wt5iRUN7g-n6HGj_JyCNhfP7QYj6mkyX4aPop8K44OxtlkjN1MXaOE2JPdLXA58OHi7hKIwTJIID0m8Me3zcJKJ_eB1o8pK8/s1600/IMG_3503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCH4yv6TXkguJVznMl3BViH-t4HruWFHU290X1OqMTLQ8wt5iRUN7g-n6HGj_JyCNhfP7QYj6mkyX4aPop8K44OxtlkjN1MXaOE2JPdLXA58OHi7hKIwTJIID0m8Me3zcJKJ_eB1o8pK8/s320/IMG_3503.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this blueberry plant was transplanted here, in the South East Hugel bed in late spring...it's managed to survive the hugel bed succession which is amazing</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj17EFFzUyh963wVW10TOKvGVrFos_Q_kzKGc-0ZyWAiRRJym9IgOreH3oYhrJONM3jpjXR7k9SPou-lcIzl5MzHg_Wxfhfyn5eJaoGfBNU2XUvNwM0w1VChRWGnYFWj7VdGuQ-M79feHo/s1600/IMG_3508.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj17EFFzUyh963wVW10TOKvGVrFos_Q_kzKGc-0ZyWAiRRJym9IgOreH3oYhrJONM3jpjXR7k9SPou-lcIzl5MzHg_Wxfhfyn5eJaoGfBNU2XUvNwM0w1VChRWGnYFWj7VdGuQ-M79feHo/s320/IMG_3508.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Cayenne almost dried on the plant</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUkvFU_rHLVLlTjIDt5UMdD6ba-0aQl4CwHiLK_1gOLTTkQAtFzVFMe08wkEgEVdWFms6x1HpsmhQPelhhTF4qa5n-s0wcJSLtkyUA4JN9GG2rTjDjeibsGOqzvZmCpUsIAWDcut_loYc/s1600/IMG_3512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUkvFU_rHLVLlTjIDt5UMdD6ba-0aQl4CwHiLK_1gOLTTkQAtFzVFMe08wkEgEVdWFms6x1HpsmhQPelhhTF4qa5n-s0wcJSLtkyUA4JN9GG2rTjDjeibsGOqzvZmCpUsIAWDcut_loYc/s320/IMG_3512.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aji Amerillo just about dried on the plant</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHrD4fkDs0lbPENoLbOxdSvGgQBnG_jV7NYBp8ITJK1hWEx2oYd5e_Lo2GR2NRQ3WtPJZvv67cILj54KxsaTWpzxJ5C3d7VBcT-dDEcceMV_u5bDIJRIPtJuB7QFe3FWJ_9_KxiPsmqP0/s1600/IMG_3520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHrD4fkDs0lbPENoLbOxdSvGgQBnG_jV7NYBp8ITJK1hWEx2oYd5e_Lo2GR2NRQ3WtPJZvv67cILj54KxsaTWpzxJ5C3d7VBcT-dDEcceMV_u5bDIJRIPtJuB7QFe3FWJ_9_KxiPsmqP0/s320/IMG_3520.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">gourd</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfDhiYPkf8uD9LRILIrrPjSs23LyGvx98QvJ26lYoMiPxKSv7BAqbyjmJyuSPb1sz86BnblilEopXVM2LFb7lOQzRturdz6aOag3WW-A3uAgNbPoJwl1z1azoPVadzfjjI6-ugXsAUaKw/s1600/IMG_3522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfDhiYPkf8uD9LRILIrrPjSs23LyGvx98QvJ26lYoMiPxKSv7BAqbyjmJyuSPb1sz86BnblilEopXVM2LFb7lOQzRturdz6aOag3WW-A3uAgNbPoJwl1z1azoPVadzfjjI6-ugXsAUaKw/s320/IMG_3522.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"PooPoo Maters" that volunteered themselves in last years humanure pile growing next to polk salate berries (which are poisonous). I find the juxtaposition of perfect sun warmed tomatoes growing next to a plant which is poisonous to humans to be deeply satisfying on many levels. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie_83JZefv3IDWqDtmD7iuEsr_FYCTJxaVpbwfRD35tmCmTqF5anU3eKeuybBHHm1KgYj3H5EcNAjTnc41Xbw4NE83w1gxjhNq943JTvXpYCM_Szkro5vnT5-_eEioRje7aG6ap2NM_oU/s1600/IMG_3523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie_83JZefv3IDWqDtmD7iuEsr_FYCTJxaVpbwfRD35tmCmTqF5anU3eKeuybBHHm1KgYj3H5EcNAjTnc41Xbw4NE83w1gxjhNq943JTvXpYCM_Szkro5vnT5-_eEioRje7aG6ap2NM_oU/s320/IMG_3523.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">compost alley overrun by nature...I listened, adapted, and moved my compost operation elsewhere</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYsx8Ted9OiryqxzpMJAy_eMTYSXe6v49Wu2FXERcu9DYyVgpskPQYim9VBJG_kkDOYtyx-77uwy722m8VFrfiHMQFUI5fSE4er-jw1__TQTBht-OmVzPNqdIxBiXvP17uTnnMIDrztqI/s1600/IMG_3531.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYsx8Ted9OiryqxzpMJAy_eMTYSXe6v49Wu2FXERcu9DYyVgpskPQYim9VBJG_kkDOYtyx-77uwy722m8VFrfiHMQFUI5fSE4er-jw1__TQTBht-OmVzPNqdIxBiXvP17uTnnMIDrztqI/s320/IMG_3531.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My message to the future...television was here</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr88gZe0NSRWiEa3pUhyRuwztBU-6ACBd0Tx0Zxy6A-OSxSlpQSeN0t1qQD52tzcJTgl2eun52sqLttUKeHmixJmdQ1yf1oMRxbziXk0Wc0RuD7AJB3jwR9hDV3AN7xj-jEhpB78YFUNA/s1600/IMG_3546.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr88gZe0NSRWiEa3pUhyRuwztBU-6ACBd0Tx0Zxy6A-OSxSlpQSeN0t1qQD52tzcJTgl2eun52sqLttUKeHmixJmdQ1yf1oMRxbziXk0Wc0RuD7AJB3jwR9hDV3AN7xj-jEhpB78YFUNA/s320/IMG_3546.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Floating Zen Head (his name is Gaelic and literally translated into "little fire" from my understanding of the moniker at least</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRZWhXlCYguckF9LXfGP6vggHSIReCIDckXjsuVnE4xZJB9YSWWsVL4ehjx0mA8cjtiihKfazzuahs4AqktKlcmBIb_4WQa2rImfnsIIq8B1vMN5Bewr5b4FH9YEbkbrAiVMR6usVPLiM/s1600/IMG_3549.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRZWhXlCYguckF9LXfGP6vggHSIReCIDckXjsuVnE4xZJB9YSWWsVL4ehjx0mA8cjtiihKfazzuahs4AqktKlcmBIb_4WQa2rImfnsIIq8B1vMN5Bewr5b4FH9YEbkbrAiVMR6usVPLiM/s320/IMG_3549.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See Ayden Zen?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkvC0jjiyIxwzy5LPIsCaJTuanUnT9tLMMVt9mXDLQEc0RIZyp1eH76sanu32G9NKFA7DEANHFwv-u7XlNS69WNzKFYt_UxSKmKrSiVY6LnMVbYOqbpu8KOR4N4n2NkoWGFweLcjarsTo/s1600/IMG_3552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkvC0jjiyIxwzy5LPIsCaJTuanUnT9tLMMVt9mXDLQEc0RIZyp1eH76sanu32G9NKFA7DEANHFwv-u7XlNS69WNzKFYt_UxSKmKrSiVY6LnMVbYOqbpu8KOR4N4n2NkoWGFweLcjarsTo/s320/IMG_3552.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zen's first camp in the back garden</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhav1rqJtf8XkOUPsb4HymHrD7B-nzc8EqCyhCkcVYozmVu6X5RmIlkeNmG29z4l0aKQsDrrQBlo6vsQRGcx-f_PBsODQW1FchT_MZBQ0LT_HumJyGx1uvJw-4AQOwocVjo8Idm_aTPGDQ/s1600/IMG_3557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhav1rqJtf8XkOUPsb4HymHrD7B-nzc8EqCyhCkcVYozmVu6X5RmIlkeNmG29z4l0aKQsDrrQBlo6vsQRGcx-f_PBsODQW1FchT_MZBQ0LT_HumJyGx1uvJw-4AQOwocVjo8Idm_aTPGDQ/s320/IMG_3557.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilUguWlDA7pyjSZnn2-NkN2_fy5bps3FdRlsgwVewc13hXMMWiKs62tbsErXTQfmBdxru63oJcOkjF-BZUntwkWsKZmnRtxLNx97S_n-QLnBhyLOkbI4o8DepVXnoPa6-7rnQr7jjwon4/s1600/IMG_3572.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilUguWlDA7pyjSZnn2-NkN2_fy5bps3FdRlsgwVewc13hXMMWiKs62tbsErXTQfmBdxru63oJcOkjF-BZUntwkWsKZmnRtxLNx97S_n-QLnBhyLOkbI4o8DepVXnoPa6-7rnQr7jjwon4/s320/IMG_3572.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love how the light is competing in this picture. Nature appears to be winning</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-my3Orcy75mFVCyvqvs-aT_Gim2CkxTkCX0L_2twTlV7QuIcO3bf3nbbGt3dM-NvHXgaLcGjHmdVGwFSozu9e2HP5YuV-NrWNG1qyWxq8pGhUEaI7rC1jl3iPPsezDsydlfruAXB-_tI/s1600/IMG_3371.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-my3Orcy75mFVCyvqvs-aT_Gim2CkxTkCX0L_2twTlV7QuIcO3bf3nbbGt3dM-NvHXgaLcGjHmdVGwFSozu9e2HP5YuV-NrWNG1qyWxq8pGhUEaI7rC1jl3iPPsezDsydlfruAXB-_tI/s320/IMG_3371.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And a "good night" from Ayden Zen from his tent, at the end of the universe. His first tent...I bought it when I was 16 years old and backpacked in it all over the United States until Wendy and I got married and purchased a new backpacking tent. Now it's Ayden's tent. Proof that if you buy quality gear and take care of it, it will last for generations. </td></tr>
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<br />Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7294159349473540264.post-28800609854477552752013-08-28T10:00:00.000-07:002013-08-28T10:11:50.368-07:00Occupy Monsanto<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZd_kEjo1C_VwtnTf_x24F7m4nP6kYrOy1sBrsPEMB3NpSmg6Jju81nK01b2DQR_RPnLQSo2rgutpatkwYzeLZIp7VbSuibnW8KPTqeA90C-RDS4OJilBBleTSE_TLMljYzUp-7izef-0/s1600/monsanto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZd_kEjo1C_VwtnTf_x24F7m4nP6kYrOy1sBrsPEMB3NpSmg6Jju81nK01b2DQR_RPnLQSo2rgutpatkwYzeLZIp7VbSuibnW8KPTqeA90C-RDS4OJilBBleTSE_TLMljYzUp-7izef-0/s1600/monsanto.jpg" /></a></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When
RE, head admin and creator of the <a href="http://www.doomsteaddiner.net/blog/" target="_blank">Doomstead Diner</a>, asked me to write
an article about the evils of Monsanto I was a bit confused by the
request at first. "Aren't we just preachin' to the choir"
I wanted to know. What am I going to write about that most people
don't already know? Most of what I know is from documentary films such as
<i>Food Inc</i>., a
Michael Pollan book or two (as well as many other books), the
occasional internet article, as well as the annual report generated
straight from Hell. Haven't heard of that report? It's called the
<i>Earth Rape Newspeak Players Ball Report</i> and it's discussed at the
annual Newspeak Players Ball. This is the real purpose of the
Bilderberger meeting every year. It's where the awards are handed
out by Satan himself. Monsanto has won four out of the last 10
awards with Satan praising their use of the word sustainability. He took the time to point out (at last years Earth Rape) how wonderfully
crafted and full of diverse and pure Newspeak Monsanto's <a href="http://www.monsanto.com/whoweare/Pages/our-commitments.aspx" target="_blank">"AboutUs"</a> section of their website is:</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span style="color: #45818e;">
</span></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">At
the heart of Monsanto is a very clear and principled code of conduct
– one we expect all employees, contractors and management to live
by every day. We operate under a genuine value system—our
pledge—that demonstrates integrity, respect, ethical behavior,
perspective and honesty as a foundation for everything we do.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="color: #45818e;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="color: #45818e;">A key part of fulfilling the promise of
our value system is by engaging our communities in a significant and
positive manner. Not only do we work hard to support the family
farmer in a variety of ways, but we also:</span></div>
</blockquote>
<ul><span style="color: #45818e;">
</span>
<li><blockquote>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #45818e;">provide
extensive educational programs – particularly in science and
agriculture – for students around the world
</span></div>
</blockquote>
</li>
<span style="color: #45818e;">
</span>
<li><blockquote>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #45818e;">fund numerous
research grants for graduate students
</span></div>
</blockquote>
</li>
<span style="color: #45818e;">
</span>
<li><blockquote>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="color: #45818e;">work in partnership with government
bodies, non-profit agencies and advocacy groups to make agriculture
more sustainable"</span></div>
</blockquote>
</li>
</ul>
</div>
<span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">While
I'm at it, here's a video from <a href="http://bcove.me/6muz9e96" target="_blank">Monsanto's website</a> that might make you throw up a few times. </span></span></span>
</div>
<span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> This
type of write up makes me very angry. Newspeak makes me angry in
general. But this is particularly pernicious Newspeak. Monsanto
making agriculture more sustainable? Is that why 16,196 Indian
farmers killed themselves in 2008, with over 15,000 suicides a year
from 2002 to 2008 according to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Farmers%27_suicides_in_India#Statistics" target="_blank">Wiki</a>.
These deaths are mainly due to Monsanto's BT cotton, but more
to the point it's due to Monsanto's "sustainable"
agriculture methods. Now, I study and practice permaculture methods,
which <span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>are</b></span> actually sustainable agriculture methods. Monsanto
practices chemical mediated, genetically modified, monoculture.
Sustainability with plants depends mostly on diversity. That's why
in nature you don't see monocultures. You see thousands of different
species of plants growing in a true melting pot of diversity. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Monsanto's
agriculture is the opposite of sustainable. They move into a country
and get the farmers (whom practice sustainable agriculture passed on
through generations) to plant their GM seeds which will not grow
without Monsanto's application of poisonous chemicals. So now the
farmer is beholden to Monsanto to get their crops to grow. To add
insult to injury the seeds are what are known as "terminator
seeds" because subsequent generations of the plant are sterile
and will not produce the next years crop. So the farmer must buy
more seeds from Monsanto. By this time Monsanto has complete control
of the farmer (and their land) since the farmer cannot afford to
continue the charade without a hefty loan from the bank, which they
will never be able to repay since they will never see a profit. No
worries, cause Monsanto doesn't give two shits about the farmers and
their human needs. They've got huge machines that run by satellite
programming to do the job of the farmer. This is the real reason why
there has been an epidemic of Indian farmers committing suicide over
the last ten years. So I guess if farmers killing themselves,
genetically modified terminator seeds, and numerous application of
deadly poisons is sustainable than Monsanto has nailed it. So this
is the "variety of ways" that Monsanto "supports the
family farmer"? By making them debt slaves whom find it
practical to hang themselves? </span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> There
are many evils associated with what Monsanto is doing, but to my
estimation, the most evil thing they have attempted to do is to
patent life itself. Percy Schmeiser, of Saskatchewan Canada, can
tell you all about that. His story is pretty well known, but in 1998
Monsanto sued him for growing their patented GM canola seed. Now, he
didn't grow their seeds, their seeds contaminated his 50 years of
work cultivating an heirloom canola variety. That happened because
nature has this amazing capacity to pollinate with pollinators. His
fields got contaminated with Monsanto's bull shit and then Monsanto
sued Schmeiser for growing their crop without permission (luckily
they did not succeed). I guess maybe next Monsanto will try to take the birds and the Bees to court for cross pollinating their patented
genetic modifications? What's with the birds and bees anyways? Don't
they know there is law to follow? Damn nature and it's anarchic form of resilient life.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> As
far as genetically modifying natures design goes, this is what
Monsanto has to say about that completely risk free practice: </span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #45818e;"><br /></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></span>There
is no need to test the safety of DNA introduced into GM crops. DNA
(and resulting RNA) is present in almost all foods. DNA is non-toxic
and the presence of DNA, in and of itself, presents no hazard. </span></div>
</blockquote>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"> Indeed, no need to test the effects of splicing non-plant DNA into
plants such as the "fish tomato" with it's winter flounder
anitfreeze transgene spliced into it for better frost protection.
Granted, this fish tomato was not brought to us by Monsanto, but
their logic applies here, and they were the first company to apply genetic modification to food crops. There is no need to test whether or not
this is a safe practice because "DNA is present in almost all
foods" and DNA is "non-toxic." Right, so sign me up
for a "fish tomato" sandwich with round up ready corn on
the cob. While I'm at it, why not some genetically modified soy
formula for my 3 month old with a BT Cotton onesie. Might as well get him ready for his diet
of mostly poisonous food so that he can get a head start on being sick for
the rest of his life. But hey, at least he won't be hungry while
he's dying from cancer.
</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #38761d;">The last thing we need is more chemicals on planet Earth. Monsanto
is in the business of making humanity even more dependent on
chemicals. A quick google search for "pollution in the womb" uncovered this <a href="http://www.environmentalhealth.ca/pollutioninthewomb.htm" target="_blank">gem</a>:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue;"> </span><span style="color: #45818e;">
</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> Umbilical cord blood from 10
babies was tested for 413 industrial chemicals and pollutants. The
tests found an average of 200 of these chemicals in each newborn, and
a total of 287 chemicals in the group. The umbilical cord blood of
the 10 babies harboured pesticides, consumer product ingredients, and
wastes from burning coal, gasoline and garbage. Some of the chemicals
found in the cord blood are banned or severely restricted in the US. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Among
the chemicals found were:<br />- eight perfluorochemicals used as stain
and oil repellants in fast food packaging, clothes and textiles,
including the Teflon chemical PFOA. PFOA was recently characterized
as a likely human carcinogen. <br />- 21 organochloride pesticides. <br />-
dozens of widely used brominated flame retardants (PBDEs) and their
toxic by products, used in TVs, computers, foam and many other
products. They are also found in some foods. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Of
the 287 chemicals detected in the study, 180 are known to cause
cancer in humans or animals, 217 are toxic to the brain and nervous
system, and 208 cause birth defects or abnormal development in animal
tests.</span></span></div>
</blockquote>
</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></blockquote>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> I
wonder how many of those organochloride pesticides are brought to us
by Monsanto and their ilk? So we're going to Occupy Monsanto on
September 17th. Everywhere. Not sure what my part will be short of
writing this article. But maybe I'll put a sign up on the busy
roadside in front of my house that says something like "Monsanto
pollutes our wombs." Or "Monsanto causes cancer."
Anything to bring attention to the evil that is being perpetuated in
the name of profit by this ridiculous company and the food production philosophy they labor to cultivate. We don't need
genetically modified foods in moncultures. It is not a sustainable
practice. It is quite the opposite in fact. It causes more virulent
and pesticide resistant pests for our food crops. It causes slaves
to be made from simple farmers whom then kill themselves out of
desperation. It causes humanity to ultimately be at the mercy of
those who would seek to control all of our food for no other reason
than profit via patents on plant DNA. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">The
question you have to ask yourself is do you want your food to be
cheap, nutritionally deficient, and destructive to sustainable
cultures throughout the world? Or do you want your food to be
nutritious and produced using natural methods that mimic natures
design while facilitating healthy human societies? We can do that as
a species if we decide to. There is a lot stopping us from
accomplishing the later goal, and Monsanto is behind a good bit of
that reasoning. There is no reason why we can't produce all of the
food we need as a species in a way that is regenerative, healthy, and
supportive of all life systems involved in the ecology of food
production. It's not a mystery. We know how to do it, and it does
not require the use of man made chemicals that pollute the wombs of
our unborn children, cause cancer, and convince simple farmers that
killing themselves is a better option than remaining Monsanto slaves.
We have the solutions. We can fix this mess. But we won't if you
don't pull your head out of the sand and start paying attention to
the evil's being perpetuated by corporations whom care about nothing
but profit. And at the expense of the health of our planet and all
of the species on it. We don't own the Earth, but we do share it with
billions of other life forms, a healthy majority of which we are
actively exterminating with the practices of our civilizations Big
Agriculture headed up by the likes of Monsanto. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></div>
Luciddreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02128676983998762432noreply@blogger.com3