Archive for the ‘organic agriculture’ Category

A story I’ve got to get off my chest/ my side, of the story

January 11, 2011

Once upon a time, on a farm far away, one tried to get labor for a day or two now and then by promoting the activity as therapy for people with problems. And, in the course of human events, a man once came to my door one day, and said, “I have aids, and I could sure use some farm therapy”.

Well I was tickled pink. Here was a person, with a citable problem or two, taking one of the shacks, at my disposal, with whom, if we could focus on the problem, may improve him. Because up to now we had already cured weight loss, alcoholism, laziness, heroin, learning disabledness, homelessness, and helped people new to America, and those on the run from the law..

However I got nervous about this man working in the fields transmitting aids to vegetables. But that was just as well because he really didn’t take to working in the fields with a straw hat. The sun would get to him and I’d find him passed out in the rows, or slightly delirious. And he was one of those people who give a shit, in that he is into plumbing and I had some longstanding plumbing issues and over a day or two he replaced some fixtures in an industrious and useful way. So this was good. I found more useful things to do and he ventured in the fields to mulch with hay or pick rocks out of the rows, and seemed to improve and stabilize, speaking highly of the agrarian lifestyle, amazed at its peace, grace and harmony, which he said he really needed at this juncture in his life especially. He also in very kindly fashion didn’t mix much with other participants, keeping to himself in his shack, happy to pass the time reading and being alone and napping when not busy..

After a week he moved on, and I felt quite right about my labor for people with problems as therapy, that I had made the world a better place, and this man was going to go on to greater things, and told him he was welcome back, and in 4 0r 5 weeks he returned, and set off in the same innocent pattern; yet after a few days he was joined by a less industrious friend in the other shack, who may have been more than his friend; because it is in the course of this sojourn, that he started snorting any farm powders he could find, and demonstrating the notorious varieties of chemicals, an organic farm that was conventional 4 years ago, might have around.

It got worse. High on vapours of chemical cans I was constantly running up and snatching them out of his hand, or sniffing them out of hiding in his shack; he would run to my poor old pick up truck and take into the fields at night trying to run over deer, for that year did have an amazing amount of deer. At some point these ruffians barricaded themselves in the shack, refusing to leave; and when I called emergency psychiatric services, on the advise of his counselor whose number he gave me, indeed, his counselor commended me on my efforts to work with these people, and said they might be able to send more aids patients out the following spring to benefit from my agrarian therapy program; but at the moment, the shack hold-outs beelined out with some gasoline and a match and torched these tall weeds and vines along an old stone wall to an old old building. When I was chasing them for that, and wondering if I wanted anymore aids patients from the counselor in the spring, and putting out the fire, they ran into the big barn and stole a huge vehicle, an uplifting dumpster like truck, and joyrided it on the dirt roads in the several acres of woods within the fields; this tall truck as I was corralling them back to the parking area, knocked over several slightly low power lines running between structures, upon which the electrician within the soul of this demon possessed aids patient, whose counselor I had been calling for advice along the way, suddenly felt very remorseful about the downed power lines, and calling a time out, repentantly setting about to see if he could fix them. Especially since I was very angry about the power lines, and I had already yanked his shoulder with his arm from the driver’s seat to the ground, which made him collapse with a shudder. And I of course, desperately needed those power lines fixed and there was work in the fields to do, so I went off to catch up on not having to babysit these children, and they with only one major shock, went about the cumbersome and makeshift process of reestablishing lights and whatever those power lines electrified. When that was done, after they had rebarricaded themselves in the shacks, doing heroin, I suspect, I flushed them out in the evening with rodent smoke bombs, one of which landed on this jailhouse hooch they were showing me how to make in an expanding plastic trash bag; and when they ran out of the shack, the sweet smell of hooch spilled everywhere sticky, I had some locals around shoo them straight into my pick up truck, not let them out, toss their stuff in the back and get them to the train in Gladstone by 8:15; and they had no choice but to comply as I gave them a twenty for the train, a pack of cigarettes we stopped in a Rite Aid for, and I allowed them to drink the 1.5 liter vodka bottle wrapped in the folds of blankets and sleeping bags these two sad specimens were draped in.

Now I knew no conductor, especially at the toney Gladstone stop, was going to let these barbaric hoard like people onto a train, but I squealed the tires and pulled out, leaving them there, with the train conductors sternly approaching. Indeed, they called me later that night, waking me up with a story about how they failed to make that last train from Gladstone; but I really didn’t care; and was even glad, they deserved it; that’s their karma.

And this, my friend, is really just where the story starts. You see, these cretins did a really shoddy job on the electrical wires connecting a few structures the farm has around the parking area, and I had no recourse but to call an electrician, and being poor had to make several phone calls and get several estimates, till one very electrician came over and in the course of me running over the set-up of the job and saying a few spiritual things, electricians, being the religious sort, something about electricity and life, and so he started to show me how easy it was to do, and to hold a ladder here and there, and so he came over the next day and we spent an hour or two connecting wires into electrical boxes and making wires tight and not droop down lower to the ground, as they had been left, by those idiots I did not want to see again.

And this nice arab electrician said he’d do it for free, as if impressed by my spirituality, and in exchange I’d hook him with boxes of vegetables, which seemed fine, and I wondered about the superiority of Arabs to white men, in the electrician field. But then he ventured into the domain of me claiming to hire a step-son of his, from an arab country, 15hrs a week, but it would be a no show job. It would merely enable his step-son to live here, rather than the mid-east country. And that he would pay me 150 dollars a week just to fill out paperwork affirming the work happened, that would be turned into immigration officials overseeing visitors to our country. Now the problem with me, is I am first concerned with agriculture, and not these sorts of proposals, which could land me in trouble; and secondly, I am a bit of a politician, having run for local office on a peaceful assembly platform in 2003 in Princeton N.J. and currently popularizing organic agriculture as the natural direction of the people; and as a politician, I know, we can not have illegal skeletons in the closet such as providing no show jobs for visitors for other countries, because if the public one day saw that, they would realize my inept attempts at integrity, and I would feel I sold out the people; whereas truly entertaining stories such as the above adds color to my American character.

I told the electrician, who was Muslim, I’d think about it; yet several times over the next few weeks he would corral me in the hot afternoon, driving swiftly on the dirt driveway beside me as I’d walk back from the farm stand. “You know I helped you for free”, he’d remind me; and I didn’t have several hundred dollars for his work; and rued my efforts to help homosexuals; helpful to a fault I was. He was literally extorting the small organic grower, smiling like he guns in his white van, and generally giving the impression of not someone to be trifled with: That it was very important his step son come to live in America. Finally at one juncture I said come at such and such a time on such and such day and we will talk about it. For at this time a group of consumers of mine were going to come for an inspection of the farm and I would show all the organic practices, and they would fill out a questionaire and send it to CNG Certified Naturally Grown, an independent organic certifying agency out of upstate NY; for there are degrees of certification ranging from State official certification which costs hundreds and hundreds of dollars and takes 9 months; then this less official certification consumers or fellow farmers perform; and some organic growers just say, “The heck with you: If you think I’m lying about my organic practices, come here and look anytime, but I will not pay an agency because people think I’m lying when farmers are truth about farming. However, unless certified by state official, I can not use the term “organic”. It has been bought off, and is off the word market. Organic Growers have have to pay to advertise with that word. And you thought speech was free. To use the word organic in a sentence in your advertising is 600 bucks to be certified by the state easy. Watch out for other words they might take away and cost you to use. It’s the ultimate totalitarian government that makes words cost money, and what we live in today. Suppose every time someone used the word “like” they had to contribute a dime to the national debt? But I am straying from the story. Suffice to say The Long Valley Gardening Club was coming over, and there would be more than enough of them to fill out the necessary number of questionaires, and I’d promote the activity and enterprise, and if I got this beloved bedoiun electrician into the fields with the long valley garden club, I might have the leverage to explain in public what a bully he is being to me forcing money onto me in exchange for messing with the INS: That was the plan, and I didn’t have to worry a few days.

But now the third subplot, all doomed to come together one fateful moment like a really good episode of The Sopranos.

Earlier in the summer I’d been to a friend’s birthday party several towns away, and because I arrived late, working late into the summer day, at mid nite, to an all day swimming pool affair, I was among the last to straggle out to the area the cars were parked on this large property and house they let him use for his party. And as I was leaning into leaving, I was talking with a person or two I hadn’t seen in a long time, and this fellow I didn’t know, who seemed interesting enough as it was just us, and the people who lived in the house walking around cleaning up wanting us to leave. And this new fellow was suspicious because he offered us a joint of pot; only eventually got it out, and it was the worst pot I ever had; not that I have had much bad pot though. And later we walked out in the dark to the cars underneath the tall trees in this parking lot grove; and he asked me if as an organic grower I ever grew pot; and I, wanting to sound like a big shot, said, “sure, just a few though“; Even though I didn’t, and organic growers of vegetables don’t grow a few pot plants on the side; this fellow made it sound so attractive, how could I admit myself to be some uncool fool who didn’t; towards which this fellow said he would come over and show me how to trim them if I needed help, as well as just see the farm and maybe help in the fields a bit. I remember asked him where he was from and he said North Hampton Mass. And I remember thinking, what kind of person comes from there; I having a bit of a prejudice against that particular town. In fact I didn’t even worry briefly about not having pot plants to show him, because once he got there he could help me in the fields.

So one late July afternoon, he came over, and it started to rain so we couldn’t work in the fields and we hid in the shack with the assorted crazies about. The gay couple, an alcoholic from the south I was trying to help; an interacial couple I was trying to help, and a mean sad construction worker I was trying to help; and these were just some of the strangest people east of the Mississippi, hiding in a shack with candles from the rain; with the sweet smell of hooch being made in a contractor bag from yeast, cans of fruit and sugar, as the man with aids had learned to this in county jail some winter ago and being on a farm trying to demonstrate its teaching.

By then I had strongly suspected this person who enquired about pot production was an undercover officer behind the recent bust of my friend whose birthday party it was; and for a variety of reasons; and thus I encouraged his coming over, in hopes of if not busting him, at least showing him the line of pressure, and the real deal. And I’d told my friends I think he was an undercover, so they acted especially scary and evil, because this was a clean cut dude, and these guys were curious too, if he was an undercover, how can you tell, do you ask. I mean, we were all curious as to the issue of could we smell out an undercover; but no one but me thought it to be like a sport.

And, uncomfortable with the lower lower class milieu, he did behave in some ways that gave it away. For one thing he claims to be in the alternative medical business and had just replaced my recently arrested friends former partner in the alternative medicine, massage business, with some plans for further machinery and wider menu of alternative healing arts. However, his website I later investigated looked thin and suspicious, and it seemed he just went the business partner route to investigate my friend.

Indeed, what happened and immediately compelled him to the farm or at least so seemed, was that my friend had arranged to buy 6 pounds of pot from him that my friend could move; and this went down at a nearby red bull motel; that cops raided the transaction and busted this new business partner of my friend; as my friend had been cooperating with the prosecutors at least regarding this deal, which was a set-up.

So the fellow I met at the party, was distressed over this, or so he said, and needed the peace and consel of the farm and me, as I knew so much, but really he was coming over to hopefully find pot growing on my operation; and had been absolved from being suspected as an undercover, by reports of his recent arrest. Yet it shows to you how messed up the mind of county prosecutors and sheriffs are regarding the essentially harmless and beneficial crime of pot; in that psychologically they played the plan and psychological turmoil of getting my friend to set-up his new business partner who offered to sell him 6 pounds of high grade pot. My friend later told me moving it to the hotel was a last second decision, too, and he had to lie to the undercover partner his house was flooded. My friend told me he had also shown his partner where a stash was, explaining how when the cops raided my friend they knew exactly where it was. The gay number they did on my friend was so disturbing that he refused to believe my allegations about who the undercover really was; and it shows you illegal practice by county sheriffs in Somerset County NJ, if they withhold the information of who the undercover was, by actually passing off his fake arrest as actual. I mean that’s just plain illegal. I don’t think you can not reveal the source of evidence and information; nor pretend to have him arrested so he may disappear and ply his undercover training elsewhere.

And, really what the other side, the government coming over, and this whole episode giving me a chance to do, but make my basic case regarding the appropriateness of pot, which goes like this: The basic right of people to come together to discuss how they spend their time and life, has been forgotten. The subjugation of local discourse by local officials, abridges the more primary form of such discussion in peaceful assembly; and violates the reservation of powers to the state or the people. So we live in an illegal society. And by doing something illegal and harmless in return, we get a high enabling us to overcome the illegal bent in society, and this high is functionalizing and increasing in competency. Pot is not the final solution. Community self-determination and discussion in Peaceful Assemblies, should make the need for pot obsolete; end the high; but till that is attained, measures need be taken; and as the government never helps me in this, despite numerous solicitations, entreaties, and legal actions; so I was very eager to work with this youthful looking law enforcement official to see if he could not understand the above; and particularly, apply this to his case, as he complained to me about his charges.

But he was not proactive on this. And he acted nothing like people who move pot pounds at a time do; and I wrote several letters to my arrested friend on how his new business partner was the undercover, and how this undercover was a complete loser at being an undercover giving himself away in this way and that; a complete incompetent, if you study the situation. And I knew fulwell these letters would be read by the prosecutors and law enforcement on my friends case as he was forced to work with him, which was messing him up mentally, and reading his emails to his new email address.

Anyway, long story short; I was leading the Arab and the Long Valley garden club through the fields, explaining to the Arab as he had already gotten a box or 2 of vegetables it was appropriate to add to the number of questionnaires inspecting the operation; when two black scary unmarked choppers with those box like devices on the wing that blink and detect pot plants through ultra red glare or something, started flying over the whole 80 acre farm with 35 acres of woods on it, and nearby boundaries to other large properties, just flying back and forth, and not stopping after one pass or two, as we all nervously and awkwardly continued my showing them the potatoes I mulched with hay to not use chemicals to keep down the weeds and how big the plants were and how beautiful it looked, and I tried to show them the barn with all the natural organic fertilizers and packaging to seeds I kept none of which had chemicals listed on their packaging. I didn’t use much of the 80 acre farm, so the choppers seemed centered on the long grassed back fields and woods. But it was obviously unnerving to the long valley garden club, and my potential Arab partner, as well as to the elementary school next door that had just built on 40 acres land that used to be the farm’s; as that had just got out, and the teachers still around were looking out their windows perplexed at what the heck the farm next door was up to now. Trying to promote the fall crop, and explaining the questionaire grew harder and harder with the unnerving special black choppers hovering around.

Anyway the group of 15 people listening to my stories and insights, started to thin out, particularly as the choppers grew nearer, investigating the fields we were out; till more and more of the garden club didn’t feel it and either dropped their questionnaire and just went in the other direction back to the car; or mumbled some meager response about turning it in later and confident everything was organic; till only I and the Arab were left; and then when one of the choppers dropped a rope ladder and started climbing down nearby with a gun strapped to his back, the Arab and Muslim I might add took off running to his car, and I never saw him again.

Basically, because the state runs away from the issue of towns making decisions in local peaceful assemblies, I called them cowards and hypocrits for picking on pot movement without dealing with the causes for its necessity. Of course the question remains is this warrantless and unannounced and intrusive search in violation of search and seizure laws? I mean it is obviously a search they failed to show a warrant for. Especially since they could have asked me to search the property and to clear my good name I would have instantly assented. Which is why this search may have more been payback than an actual search this illegal search and seizure. Or could they have a survelliance of me encompassing a knowledge of my fearful situation with the electrician and knew that by doing this they were secretly there to scare off the threatening; and in now was this a coincidence and in now way can I complain and even must thank them in their tacit aid.

I mean for a short time there was a spike in local sales simply from the notoriety of a black chopper or two criss crossing the property for almost two hours. Of course some of the long valley garden club were curious about what was going on, as were elementary school teachers next door, expecting something to come out in the papers in recent days. But there was nothing, they found nothing, and nothing came out in the papers; which actually seemed to gain me great sympathy from the school which respected my work. There was one bus driver, a husband along with the tour, who totally expected some charges to result, calling me a hippy bringing down demise, when I have short hair and a collar specifically to avoid being confused with a hippy. And I tried to explain to him and others, over the choppers, that they wouldn’t find anything, this was just a mistake, shows you how dumb law enforcement could be, for I reminded them anyone is and has been welcome to enjoy the property, and picnic by the pond, if they buy boxes of vegetables. But it was like my arguments were being purposely drowned out by the choppers

The person I thought was the undercover continued to deny it, and soon dropped out of sight, as I expected. My friend whose birthday it was, did not time, but paid considerable costs to a local law firm. The aids patient and anyone he knows were banished three years. That guy, who was scary looking with a black beard and taut physique, hated the southern alcoholic, who in the shed and often took to singing word songs he had made up and memorized, all of which are very rude regarding women and life, and he doesn’t stop singing them, hogging the stage in that alcoholic way, so the bearded person hates him and threatens him, at one point taking a swing and hitting the youthful looking undercover guy, so that may be why they were mad enough to go to this extreme, when if they really worried about the subject could have just shown up and searched, I would have let them. Anyway I am glad to let go of my side of the story. And emphasize you must see how I saw the opportunity to extort and get assistance from the government, even as opposed by the government, in hopes of just getting some dialogue on a cause that would make millions of people and towns happy.

And I really want to reiterate how nothing was found, people visit and walk around and hunt the farm all the time, including a cop or two, and that pot would have been discovered that if I had pot growing in stands in trees, to keep above deer or hydroponicly with grow lights in some closet, or hidden one plant per row of potatoes; because while I know one plant of pot can make more than a 200 foot row of potatoes; I was trying to master a hard trade; and no way could have time to master and detract and distract with illegal growing as well; and always encouraged the customers of my boxes of vegetables to roam the property and picnic by the pond, work in the fields where they wanted, and locals often fished at the back pond as well, as they had a long standing tradition of. So this search was either out of malice, unprofessional, or to help me with a difficult situation. With the government, the answers are open ended.

))))The moral of the story is that people scarier than you, are scared of you, if it seems you are being investigated by the government. Of course if the illegal search were strictly as stupid vengeful act that just happened to ward off potential terrorists; I don’t know what to say. Because the search did go on obscenely long; and people traverse all over the farm and I am quite known in the community, and have even had a few huge overnight pariies open to the public, so they could have just asked around to hear of no evidence, and honorably just asked me to look around. Then, this intimidation with their airforce, and me just having one friend who pilots small planes some distance away, was to intimidate and annoy me; but even then they unwittingly scared away an idiot, and still couldn’t get back on my for all the gruff I nailed on their friend. On the other hand, compelling as that vision is, look at this construction; if the Somerset County Sheriffs, who I believe owned the helicopters involved, though I could not see clear markings, were fake investigating me to scare off this suspected terrorist; then wouldn’t that be consistent with their below the radar tactic of fake arresting their undercovers?
And that everyone fled when they did, was very good; because the alcoholic with the horrible southern drawl, who agreed to hide in his shack during this promotion and certification process, being an alcoholic, and alcoholics do not truly like people; and he would be prone to start singing a rude song he made up; (discovering his wife cheating songs, anti prison warden songs); well this man actually was an unconvicted killer, in that he killed a man with a shot gun breaking in his larger trailer who was breaking in to stab him for sleeping with his current girlfriend who he had just abused, who was the mother of this southern Alcoholic’s child. But under the self-defense act of Florida, which this was the first case testing, he was not prosecuted; yet so traumatized was he by this overt act, that he had taken to taking out his grief field dressing the extra deer the hunters would bring him at night. There was a whole freezer stuffed with a few large pieces of deer at all times. And Tommy, his name was, would call the deer the name of his ex wife and field dress the does that way, calling the bucks the name of the fellow he shot.

But my point it, unbeknownst to me, with the 180 dollars I’d paid him for a few weeks work, he had gone to wal-mart to buy a lo-grade shot gun, which he now ran out of the shack with, which was below the fields I’d planted, and was shooting up at the remaining chopper from the wall of the his shack. And I yelled at him to stop, running away from the remaining, and those heading to their cars; because the chopper beaded down on him and strafed the area near him with machine gun fire, towards which tommy crawled under the shack, which is a fairly gross place, and I made him swear not to shoot anymore.

But it seems the chopper didn’t want to land and capture Tommy, because they had no warrants, or legal authority, if this was just based in picking on me for picking on them for picking on a friend. But still this gave no cause for anyone to want to stick around. The people already in the cars driving off fast down the road all too glad they left when they did. Because the irony is that though they ret\urned fire they didn’t swoop down or bust doc holliday, because they would have revealed themselves as the vengeful malevolent messed up monsters their vice operations are, with this stupid mission of theirs; unless it was about scaring off the follower of mohamed, which it certainly did, in which case I take it all back and am so glad the government and I are common interests we can’t admit to the public. Maybe it was a real automatic anti-terrorist concern, but being scared of me, the government could, like the lord himself, fight only with beauty.

But what did we do, really, to the undercover detective at the shack/ Not think anything he said was cool? Being slightly threatening? All laughing together in that scary way sort of at him? Keeping him outside the circle around the candles in the shack? Not thinking much of him? None of it really was that bad, though when Tommy sang about a big dick and undercover cops, and the gay guy freaked out and started to attack him, I can see how that might be a little scary; but otherwise, everyone in the community knows me, they see me work in the fields everyday, that is the bottome line.

Change climbed down to fire fight with tommy

Psychologically what caused the difference in behavior and temperment between the second week and the first, was the threat of what may await him should such seem true, would startle him into a state of excitement desiring immediate distraction from the present so; and this molded him into an elaborate succession of rowdy behaviors.

Everyone has one problem, as a manager, you get that problem recognized and focused on through the work process, so they are not only working, but aware and working on their

one problem, till that is gone, and smaller ones remain, or they are challenging and take on new and great challenges.

You low life undercover investigating the harmless doing good, whose trade acknowledges not the ignorance of naturally making community decisions together in peaceful assembly. You are the lowest form of life, scum so intermized with itself it is not psychologically functioning anymore”

Of course he kept his cool, and one guy said, what if he’s not an undercover, Shut up, sorry mike

It depends what you go by: Notes, ruminations and fibs, on agriculture in NY and Ct

August 10, 2010

This is a fallen world, not organized well, with many flaws. As I move from organic farm to the next, the issue of labor is illuminated. First, let me say, agriculture has a legal and spiritual dimension, which forgotten, sets agriculture back, which remembered, advances its natural vitality. If there were local peaceful assemblies, which there are supposed to be, which discussed and made local decisions, a more agrarian society would be opted for. These peaceful assemblies, have been abridged by the incorporation of towns with local officials by state constitutions, and there we live in an illegal world, where the economy controls us, rather than we control the economy; where education regulates us, and subsequently we no longer feel change comes from us, but from the government or media.

Yet the world could not be so pithed, were it not really pithed. Somehow the amalgamation of mind that has grown into and operates human beings from heaven or eternity draws blood from my capillaries in a certain way, through space, psychically, and therein is able to operate what it does, from the illusion, to the knocking out of key components of fetuses. It is regrettable to have to say this to so ignorant an illusion; yet the science and exactness of the description of this process is what is going to galvanize any entry into the social, from the meditative. It makes more sense to meditate on the mind, in hopes the study of the science of the mind, will lead to more control and knowledge of truth, than any attempt to reach out to government or people, because the illusion is not meant to help, yet understanding the drain of blood from me seems to be tremendously important.

Organic Farms seem to galvanize labor under the guidelines of seeking interns, as they call them, for several months for a year. My practice, when I tried to get my operation going, which albeit was a very small operation; was to use as little assistance as possible, and to have many people each helping for a short time, from a few hours to a few days, than to have a few people helping the whole season.

My way exposes many more people to agriculture. People are sympathetic to agriculture, want to be exposed to it, and believe we need more, not less agriculture, and indeed, many believe the economy is insensible and their education, oppressive. We will only get a better world by exposing more people agriculture, working agriculture, since it is a dynamic, vital, harmonious proactive experience, the experience of it propels a richer, hipper, more interactive and worldly transmission in the world.

In this way organic agriculture is similar to the Appalachian trail. Though I would think it is more likely 90 people hike one day, it is more like one person hikes 90 days. But these are both healthy activities, jettisoned by pressure.

The more important and natural and logical reason which a more natural world would have apprehended by now is that is that agriculture is very hard work requiring a strength and psychology most people do not have. The people who help me, generally, are psyched for the work, and then burn out after a few days, and if on the farm longer, become a drain. When I am at larger farms with longer term contributors I invariable see burn out. This is exactly why a frequent changeover of assistance is important, and ultimately consistent with agricultural production.

And it is morally compelling to people and community to help the organic grower. All the jobs in society that produce little aren’t really that necessary. Commonly, time may be saved, by all focusing on what is most important. These common values may assert themselves in peaceful assemblies. That is subsumed in many states by the error of representative democracy at a local level; a level that needs a proactive and sophisticated and cooperating community polity, rather than the few deciding for the many. Especially since, and all levels of elective democracy must address this: Elections don’t really exist. The Kingdom of God does not vote, there is just an illusion of votes, a final made-up tally whereby the chosen person has been picked by a metaphysical process that does not involve the actual votes of the people.  Together, the aglomeration of the people; as singular voters, a false concept. We all profess something other than what is, as a grand illusion to get under and master; and that profession makes elective democracy very suspect; and perhaps is why the government so far is completely unable to deal with the proposed benefit of reforming local officials with peaceful assemblies, making decisions; as well as reforming or altering state and republican government to adhere to moral guidelines which will not allow the ignorance that exists now.

My organic operation got so many types involved; to lose weight, to be healthier, to avoid abusive husbands, to stay away from police, to avoid addictive drugs or alcohol, to augment and increase their work ethic, to complement their main job, to be a part of agriculture, to atone for sins, to say fuck you, to avoid homelessness, to have a place on the road a while; everyone had a reason, a problem—it was very diverse; and I was leveraging, Muslim gas stations, crisis ministries, black churches, the Russian orthodox to see and experience the proximity of organic growing to salvation. I had full moon overnight pot luck drum circle councils designed to galvanize the community; though these did less to procure labor, than knowledge of my own friends, and my friends telling others about the experience and opportunity. Locals, too, I was always trying to court with the moral compulsion of the vitality and necessity of agrarian behavior. Churches, bars, organizations – all fodder for the pitch.

So while this involves a community infrastructure enemating from your farm, it is more holistic than enlisting the few for a long period. Few if anyone I have encountered have been capable to going on in the hard lifestyle of organic growing for more than a few weeks. It is very much like managing baseball pitchers: you want them to have good games and maximize efficiency, but you must not overwork them to harm their arm long term—they need a time to relax, a spirit to work, a time to reap a time to sow a well balanced healthy life with complimenting interests. Really, I likened myself to a pitching coach often.

Likewise, one’s first love must be growing, not a lover on the farm. Frankly, I tried to not have couples on the farm, especially younger ones. Their energy is misplaced, mixing work and relationships in a sinful world, and more than the singular assistant, they are capable of stumbling into mire and falling prey to the evil that dominates our world now. Yet the advertisements for organic agriculture,

Obviously farms should be bought by communities where tens of thousands contribute a hundred dollars, the whole farm is owned by the people, there is enough labor resource to work and expand farming, there is enough direct market as well; and the opportunity is offered for council towards a better and more sensible economy all around, where people put their stakes in what is commonly wanted rather than the guidance staked by the economic tentacles going in a disorganized and ignorant direction.

Because the marketing of crops is also senseless compared to the old days when crops went to the people around the farm who helped produce them, and the king and the city, and concentration of the city was understood as to preserve the countryside without filling it up with inhabitants.

I have also found it amazing that the Biodynamic calendar is not known or used, I swear by it and use it religiously and it’s so simple, all it means, and there is a biodynamic calendar giving all hours of each day, is that which ever horoscope is nearest the moon, whatever element it is, earth, fire, water, air, correspond with planting and transplanting, and even weeding and mulching and fertilizing and watering, though that is less important; of respectively root, fruit, leaf and flowering vegetables ex, potatoes, corn, lettuce, cauliflower. This kind of natural knowledge should spread fast, but our world is precisely where the status quo rejects common sense.

I went to a farm in Connecticut owned by an artist, which didn’t have electricity or water, save a water pump from a bog towards the vegetables; but it did have a lot of daily volunteers, and one long term resident, as well as several that arrived the week I was there. Though this operation was not putting its nose to the grindstone and very market driven, maybe it was all the flowers and botanical bed garden view to the whole place, it was filled with wonderful people, most of them female. These people generally did not work every day or spend nights there and were full of cheer and enthusiasm. It was nominally Buddhist with Buddhist mental understandings and a stupa up front adjacent to the 400 acre nature preserve surrounding the large field and lesser fenced in area where the crops and flowers were grown in many little beds. However he had 5 chicken coops, and I feel the chickens were not cared for well enough, and chickens shit manure was fertilizing everywhere, and eventually I got a headache from the constant stains and smells of chicken manure, when it rained a few days,  and absolutely had to leave, though I had met a fine Tibetan Buddhist from Taiwan who reinforced the Buddhist focus on ourselves as minds searching for higher truths.

From here I went to a farm on the ny/ct border which was confidently organized, wider ranging and work oriented. It is ironic how the lax attitude at the former had the best people as workers, while the latter, if anything, had the opposite issue. Shows how nothing is ever perfect. This farm is peaceful because it is 50 miles north of nyc, while the one I was at last few years was 50 miles west, so there is some geographic compatibility, and of course, being not so far away from home, I feel more comfortable, known and habitual, with less rough effects.

Despite N.J.’s obvious corrupt inferiority to NY and Ct in protecting its nature, the mannerisms and values of my style in N.J. was compatible to dealing with the cold travails of Ct.

Vegetables were grown solely organically until the business movement of the 1900’s siphoned off farm workers, so the official percentage of those in agriculture in N.J. went down from seventy percent in the thirties to a very small percentage in 2010. Therefore chemicals were needed to kill the weeds because the manpower to do the weeding was now in business doing less directly productive tasks—even though I know it is understood that everyone should make organic growing a vital responsibility. So any reformation our economic situation, involves an aware increased valuation of food production.

And, in any event, there is another rural flank unnaturally weighted against organic growing: marijuana growing. It seems out of the way places are vital to marijuana growing, but this subsumation of farms, can not value the farm as the center of community because something secretive is being done. Thus a hostility emanates from these farms. While pot exists to compensate and increase functionality in an illegal world devoid of the constitutional manifestation of peaceful assembly which is so necessary towards having a fair society we may remark upon in an empowered sense. I am all for basement growing in suburban houses with grow lights; using farms as cover for pot growth, can be construed to infringe upon the agriculture movement; and in any event, has to work out its issues and psychological with agriculture.

Then there is a front with the nyc media. The media is so dominant in NYC, that selling to restaurants is difficult. Because the media lies in falsely representing human beings with capabilities of freedom they don’t demonstrate, the media is particularly disparaging an influence on marketing, as well as overcoming marketing with reference to the kingdom of god, or the sophisticated knowledge of marketing, distribution and benefit requires. I had troubles selling to restaurants in nyc, both for the obscuration of media and also, I must say, the domination of kitchens by people who don’t understand our cultural battles, and sometimes, our language. These tribal collective senses, which ignore how great Mexico is, is similar to an inability to apprehend and manifest common sense concepts such as agriculture, peaceful assembly, and the kingdom of god.

Yet the weight against common sense is everywhere. In family farms rather than those owned by many, in couples, usually educated in college about agriculture, traveling to farms, not being as fun as the single people or people who keep their work and relationships unencumbering each other. Were agriculture taught as the sexy trade it is, as the fun outdoorsy harmonious reflective appreciative and beautiful trade it is, rather than dry and boring and dependant upon conventional chemicals, rather than the galvanizing fulcrum to community, I understand agriculture to be ripe with. Were it taught as sexy, students might be able to resist the attraction to create humans confused with creating vegetables to eating. Because the strength to do agriculture in this situation requires a sense and humor, the pressure to be in a marriage, can mitigate and obscure.

I look back in bitter irony how I was not exposed to agriculture in middle and high school and in college as a logical and natural practice like math or writing. Though now, around Mercer County N.J. and beyond, praise the lord, many schools have gardens and vegetable growing instruction and exposure. I think how my college, while offering courses in political and economic vitality, ignored the link to vitality from agricultural awareness and sensitivity. With bitter irony I reflect that Amherst College is situated where a farm once was, and was adjacent to farms, so that farm work was a requirement there, 150 years ago. And yet I see how Amherst the town has preserved its farms around it through the requirement of a quorum of 236 to approve the destruction of farmland—whereas Mercer county NJ and thereabouts had 90 percent if not more its farmland translated for houses and increased population growth, a growth not discussed, whose manifestation reflects a benefit to metaphysics beyond those of the state and people.

How are the pockets of education and American life that know agriculture, unable to transmit its vitality and harmony to the rest of society. There is a such a great ignorance of the viable option and salvation of agriculture that my drunk friends, with lower class jobs and ways, are blown away by my organic practice, by the fact they never considered its viable option. It’s a defeat or admission of ignorance to convert to agriculture, yet you can hear these machinations of these sorts in their minds; for when the legal and spiritual and actual dimensions of agriculture is seen, this context increases the popularity of organic agriculture greatly.

What does the lack of exposure to agriculture say about our education? How do people in the agrarian world, transmit those understandings and ways? Obviously agriculture is understood as a logical and natural concern. Yet the regulation of our education and the flow of our economy stifles everything. Legally, one pays property taxes to pay for education one benefits from by having educated citizens around. Yet I see education as keeping away the will to think on one’s own and know the value of time and wealth of options. I have also to wonder why in New England Towns where quorums of 236 are required for community decisions to be made, where ten signatures can bring up an issue to be voted on, haven’t seemed to discuss the economy, or reform education with community understandings; where is the conviction to value and increase our time and life? Yet if we see how our news media is so selective in filtering of this more democratic and sensible evaluation of the community decision-making process, we may see a similar disconnect in what town meetings can control. Indeed it is obvious, good agencies and organizations lack the ability and will, to do effective good the people can relate to. This ability and will comes from heaven itself, but metaphysics restrict that energy and power, obviously, empirically.

Obviously phenomena this unnatural, has to be explained to make sense. The left side of my body, which makes me right handed, is a function of heaven draining blood from me towards a mind that creates western civilization all over earth. I have lost the will to direct great parts of my left. This vast motion is huge, scientific. Politics and logic feels the pressure of all the blood and creation of the lack of common sense of our status quo. N.J. has a difficulty apprehending itself as a victim of these corrupt metaphysics, because it is used to prosecuting perps, without understanding the nature of the harmony of N.J.

I recommend announcing to social and community groups and churches the vitality, benefit and opportunity of organic agriculture. Understand the benefits of peaceful assembly and community discussion, that judicious legislation, to be affirmed by a judge avowed to uphold the federal constitution, will change the nature of sit coms and TV as characters now go off to participate in a more proactive and involving polity.

Lest anyone doubt how prone young couples be to trouble, let me detail the five young couples I let stay at the farm I managed, before incorporating a strategy that did not allow or consider such; beyond my testimony that people singularly working for me, worked harder and more effectively. OK, the first couple I had my first year when I really knew little and wasted time with limited understanding, I took to a second operation I had going where I harvested what I planted in the spring and they went into the ladies house whose land I was sharing and had sex in the bathroom. This is just completely unacceptable behavior. The second young couple in my third year; I had bought an insurance policy whereby for a dollar a month, if there was a drought, there was a payout of cocaine to help the grower through the drought. And the effects of the drought, the sun beating down incessantly, the lack of rain, climbing the hill to the fields of injured crops; this is nothing to scoff at; so I was relying on cocaine to get me through this challenge; and offering it to this couple, apparently cocaine has an ill effect on the young couple, insofar as the ease and peace it provides, shines a light showing the unnecessary quality to couple hood, and thus is potential danger to relationships. Ergo, I never saw them again. One of them called their mother who glared as she hoisted them into the car and I never saw them again. Even as for the rest of the year and beyond, police and white trash and random people, inquired into my knowledge of them, and insinuated into the availability of this insurance pay-out.

Then there is or was a couple that are good old friends of mine, and I want them to only come out to the farm separately because they argue loudly and no one wants that; however they came together out one time, and resulted in loud arguing no one wants to hear, and in exchange for some packs of cigarettes I finally got them back to the train station. I give many people a chance, but if they bring down the curve to much, it’s to the train station for a ticket where you want to go.

Then there was a wonderful more mature couple of great people who understood the moral ambiguity to couple hood. Both of them had warrants on them and were caught eventually later in the year on western states and did state time. That hurt so much. Because they were individually such great people and a conscientious if flawed couple, we really bonded through time on the farm together, especially as they explained how they were innocent.

Then there was the couple that inherited my position at the farm this year, affording me the opportunity to gain tremendously by experiencing other operations. They burned down parts of the farmhouse, parts of which were built centuries ago and on the historical society list.

Then there was a gay couple, through my attempts to resolve homosexuality with the wholesome quality of farm work, that only resulted in the most crazy behavior I had seen yet; including snorting fertilizer, sniffing what there is to sniff, and trying to run over deer in the fields with my poor pick up truck, and barricading themselves up in a shack and refusing to come out. These are all the young couples that have been on the farm. The other side of it are all the wonderful single people who enjoyed themselves, worked on their problems, focused on their goals through the work ethic, who are valued and great people.

But as I said, I feel I am underneath a creation of the world, whose mechanism I reach and may implement more through meditation than this writing. Yet trying to reach where I am not, and overcome the twisting of my body with weights and habitations quite new and difficult, though obvious at a level I have yet to attain. Sometimes I feel my mind is as big as the earth. Yet everyone I encounter seems puffed up with and flexing a fineness that doesn’t need the logic I cite. The only way I know to turn around towards putting our heads together and dissolving the contracts of relation is to understand the benefit of the universe working out its issues, through an ending of old relationships and understanding and an embrace of common mediation of metaphysic through peaceful assembly. Once everyone realizes the whole thing is about marriage, politics is more ably transcended with common sense.

As long as I am reminiscing, let me also remind you about the edict against work place romances in general, and a women, hiding out from her abusive husband, but at the same time having his permission to be there, and she was the best worker, could supervise, and work well alone, and I promised her husband it would all be strictly work on a farm with his girl—well, the latest fugitive on the run from the law giving me work hiding out at the farm, who was fundamentally unsound regarding sympathy for his victim, his victim who was no mean person, whom he could easily use his charm to apologize to and thus have the charges against him dropped, that plan justified my allowing him on the premises, I guess they talk about me in state prisons as an alternative place to run to if the coppers get too hot; well this fellow forced himself on the girl, and then the girl left the next day, unable to stand his presence, meanwhile the fugitive did jail exercises in the front fields, instead of making himself inconspicuous by the pond; and eventually he was tackled to the ground by 7 police officers when he stupidly returned to the scene of the crime because he though everything had blown over; but I am straying from some points to make the tangential point, that different natives deal with guilt differently, according to their attitude; and yet this sort of help to fugitives in the name of clearing their name through the kingdom of god and mediation, even though, they have always ended up getting caught down the road, has bred a certain proverbial loyalty of them to me, as being among the few people who actually helped them on the run. And you must remember, often I do not know they are on the run until they confess it to me out of trust; which I now entirely discourage, and everyone has to sign a contract promising not to tell me if they have warrants on them; and, if, they are at the farm not because their first love is growing food, but because they are on the run; this is an issue; because everyone’s first love has to be agrarian. At the same time, increasingly more prisons or halfway houses are allowing inmates to work on local farms. Once they escaped, and they had to shut down all the schools in the area. I am trying to say that often an inescapable bond is created here.

The hardest task to agriculture seems to be weeding. The second week at a farm is important compared to the first, because being self-regulating, things tend to correct themselves over the weekend. So there are new visions and deeper understandings the second week. I think a long time ago when Miles Sunterra wrote about the incredible lightness of being, permeating society, he is referring to, I now see, the lightness people feel, without necessarily knowing it, of being involved in a life without agriculture. There is such a health in the tasks of organic growing, and the country has such a need for dynamic health, which agriculture provides, that occasionally people pay me ten dollars to exercise there doing agricultural tasks for me. Ultimately the goal is to convince a local high school football coach that farm work over the summer makes better teammates than the satanic weightlifting that goes on; and guarantee him an improved team from such commitment from each player over the summer.

As I am sure you notice, even though I try to travel from farm to farm this year, actually interspersed with nonagricultural more paying jobs, I am very general and nonspecific about the situations, speaking in vague, almost comic terms. I am very inhibited about specifying what I actually experienced, ever since an older frail women read an article I wrote, that included how I saved her life as we were floating down the Delaware in a flotilla of boats and rafts with beers tied to floating alongside; and she was very angry about this depiction of the capsizing I saw and saved; as well as general depictions of her as cranky and often not in a good mood.

Nevertheless, I will spend a real paragraph or two on the subject of what goes on in Connecticut from a mets fan eye. They put I-95 way too close to the Connecticut sound. There are hun-like hoards roaming about beer selling convenience stores near pizzerias and things like that. Beer, apparently is important, going by the advertising. There were no basketball courts. That part of my life has been diminished. There is a fascination with pizza, I think from the movie, Mystic Pizza. The organic operation I was at had no electric or plumbing, save a pump from a bog to water the numerous small beds of flowers and vegetables. Yet thousands of women were there to visit the artist who runs the place. And all of them were A student top notch class people women. I even really enjoyed the friendship of a Tibetan Buddhist from Taiwan. The young guy there was a fiercely moral, loyal and very much at sea sort of fellow. Yet the chickens were poorly treated, resulting in very sad cockadoodles all the time, and especially after rain illuminated the scent of the composted chicken manure used to fertilize all the beds, which caused such a noxious vapor that I got a fricken headache the second day of which compelled my fleeting desertion. There was a stupa there the only one in ct, and it was near a large lake at the other end of the huge nature preserve of deer flied forests surrounding the growing operation. The place was Buddhist, in mind; yet somehow of atonement and denial, resignation rather than vitality that runs to get electricity and plumbing.

So I went west just across the Connecticut line, after a night camping on the Appalachian trail in Connecticut, and have been enjoying the operation here, providing a tranquility an agrarian lifestyle offers, and not far geographically from where people know me, and I, them.

And yet the old conundrum where to go from here. On the one, I can stay here, and all is fine and wonderful; on the other, I do believe I have a commitment to a dairy farm 2 hours north of here in two weeks that is binding; though the transition from vegetables to milky cheese, may be a goatee one, I am committed to a future of Bess the Cow and Kid, the Goat, providing milk for a metal bucket each weak I turn into cheese to feed my aging mother in future decades. So by going north to Vermont I might work at a larger operation to view the labor schema there, because I am beginning to see a pattern here which fascinates me, has drawn blood so to speak, compelling the honor of my studied interest.

And yet not only is nothing as simple as it seems, nothing is as simple as it seems for a reason often that no one knows. In this case, it is that Quebec is evil, and right behind Vermont, and Vermont neither knows me, being far away from the comfortable confines of NJ’s bordering states, and Connecticut, nor is aware of the psychic yet actual evil enemating from the catholic ravaging of Quebec. Few people may know that not only is the only way to make it in Montreal by being for Quebec secession, that though they call their hockey team the Canadians, and few popular songs on the radio are about succession, I asked the queen of England to free them as they want; since legally Canada is a commonwealth of England, subject to the spirit of the centuries of royalty. However, the queen did not grow in stature and popularity by freeing Quebec, and Quebec, I’ve realized has consistently inflicted bad karma on my few and brief stays in Vermont, apparently unaware of the courtiership I have carried for it, like Lafayette did for America. Quebec dictates such as schizophrenia to Vermont, that I may not make it up to that operation, in which case I plan to enjoy working a few more days here, then splitting to see several numerous friends I have made from NY, who have always felt sorry for my being from ravaged N.J., and longstanding invited me upstate when I have time. Well a part of me thinks as much as I would like to see another farm, there are still months of agriculture ahead, and a few days off touring NY, with the opportunity to garner a day of work in the subject here there, what with my command of googling on the internet??? This exploration is worthy, not threatening, indeed, NY and people from NJ, have a pleasant history together, I hope. I do not feel Vermont is happening due to the undue influence of Quebec, even though there are two people I already know who want to see me. I feel that going west in NY, will put Vermont off for a week, which by then may give me an option to see Vermont, and going west in ny will offer the opportunity for day jobs at agricultural opportunities. I have really not taken a few days off from hard work since late May. This weekend was the first two days in a row I was able to rest and not move strenuously, I am looking forward to a few days off visiting friends in NY to the west of here, and maybe check out a farm in Pennsylvania not too far.

My ability to take a few days off, I would think, causes anxiety among the regular workers here, whose grueling yet pleasant schedule requires strength, a wise psychology, sense of humor, balance and well rounded perspective. The solution is trading and moving people around from farm to farm so that they see many farms, which isn’t so bad, and can take a few days off in between, for which there need be slightly more people than farms; The more people turned on to agriculture the less a few people have to do it.

A few more facts about Connecticut. They have a very nicely decorated and architected library in Old Say Brook. They have bags to pick up dog poop at dog areas. The Connecticut sound offers nice views. I was unable to find a basketball court or people playing basketball. I did stumble upon the community at a little league game. This absence of basketball or minorities is because of the Uconn basketball program, which actually separates the races so proof and actuality of the falseness of a race’s dominance of a basketball program may be exposed. Eastern Connecticut is much better preserved than N.J., a kinder attitude to the environment is observed. Yet no farms called me back from Connecticut.

Then there is the tendency of Connecticut to be a bit rough in the first few days, towards strangers such as myself. There is never any suggestions of fighting things out, in my society, because I am always apologetic, and not being married and having kids, prohibits anger from those who do. People who have kids, can not have the same latitude towards violent toughness because of the moral ambiguity of children, and the example parents are compelled to set. And yet this reasonable attitude was routinely surpassed in some surliness towards me. In some ways this seemed to stem from a “the rich are evil” mentality that allegedly permeated society towards this instance. Being the Constitution State, and the first state to have police, Connecticut is well aware of the moral ambiguity and falseness to the logic of federalism, a republic that unites regions in a very strong alliance that can not break into wars among its members. For this is not needed anymore, stultifying, and the logic for it even back then, by Madison and Hamilton sold us from the virtue of self-sustaining small villages, to a mercantile, homogenizing economy whereby a few mercantilist, marshalling markets, could make a lot of money off production. Thus Hamilton and Madison reference a creator, towards the understanding that the creator is responsible for the federal government’s incorporation of greedy mentality, a creator, not them, mandated us away from the more complex contracts and tender care from smaller states or countries that can come out of having had several or many countries instead of one. Yet after a few days, this anger passes, and is only seen as evidence of a strong state commanding a loyalty beyond the family. For Connecticut strikes me as bound to be a positive right wing state—mired now, in a socialist government, in the sense that it does not deal with real issues, or can be appealed to explain its actions, satisfactorily. Yet ultimately each of us flexes we are fine in this world. We are very weak in appealing to each other to create a more sensible world.

Romantics are less than the situation they are fighting against. Perhaps “classical” is what we want to be called. Yet I feel that the rocks of the universe that seem to be manifesting the Kingdom of God—-do they want to reproduce us? Is this creation a mistake, whose rectification is along a path of general rectification. As a tribe, the main thing, the only thing, we do, is reproduce. When did I turn into the soldier I was fighting? Wouldn’t I create the communicative world, and regard what should be done, thus protecting society and being a leader? I am at sea, under stars I probably know unconsciously, and sensing future weathers, but never land in anything that doesn’t contrast this sea. I wonder if sleeping outside in the mosquitoes, who I have killed so many of, often by slapping myself in the head near the ear–maybe those hits to the head, did something, too many of them? On the other hand, a learned delicate slap to the side of the head to kill yet another mosquito, is the learned mastery of the captain at sea, who doesn’t want to be at sea, is on land, and searching for an unconscious harmony he knows is there, but obscured by all the falsehood, and scientifically the wiring of my head to make me perceive what doesn’t really exist, that flows my blood to some system in the sky, producing western civilization.

Scientifically, I’ve got to get over the plate, the science of how the anus is broken a bit, to create blood and move the people appropriately. There needs a standard set of starting points.

 

C an the pot side do it? I’ve’ complained of does anyone care, no one cares, not the people who feign to be good, or the more responsive people who realize their limitations. Even though the democratic party might be able to create a world where there is no crime and our judicial apparatus may be aimed at the officials in public light, who are leadings us falsely and fakery.

Though government might not act in the reality of fomenting people talking to each other to create the world, or a reality of what really is the causes of the flaws of western civilization; one may not say the cause of this is bribery by the rich. Yet bribery by the evil to the corrupt seems to be a constant in the equation. This may signify the entrenched status quo, everything of which, must be renegotiated together. Satan may want us to think the rich enjoys their riches through oppression; and the rich, if it is true, may want us to think Satan causes the ills on earth.

God is the name for the stuff and force about earth in the universe that predates the universe. Earth and its life, grew within a universe much older. This is much stronger us and therefore, we probably are God, this way. You and the mind, represent God and must guide god, and let God guide

But to return to the ruminations upon agriculture. After a week in Eastern Connecticut on the sound; there was 9 days on a farm in NY halfway up Connecticut, a few miles from the border. One fascinating thing about growing, which you have to have done to know; is that at a farm, managing the growth of crops, time speeds by; the months pass in fast panoramic glory, there is never enough time to do everything that would make the farm perfect, the months speed by, as each month has its own goals, the first speeds in, the 30ieth speeds out. The seasons change with epochal angst and tragedy and hope and success.

Traveling around from month to month and farm to farm, different places and different dimensions of organic growing, time is lazy and slow; What has past, does not have the lasting relationship of the investment of work and management. Things are grown not for those near the ground you stand; but markets for other people. The sweaty anxiety of the small businessman is replaced by the mellow easy going humor of the laborer.

And there was a Taiwanese Tibet Buddhist, playful, attractive, smart, gentle, with integrity, that I had to rescue from the operation in Connecticut, that in my mind, was not dealing with the issue of plumbing and electric, noxious chicken shit; but very fine people helping there. She was ready to go home and wanted her to see a more profitable and dealing operation. So, after adjusting to this new farm, established 1795, I called her and told her I would meet her in NYC, only 50 miles south, and she could take the train, and I would take her back to the farm and introduce her to the people there, and they were ready to have her, because I was moving to another place and she could replace me, which would make me a cut above the ordinary laborer because I replaced my self with a girl I knew everyone would like. The whole notion of replacing yourself so you may move on, without a skip in step, is a lost art, but it used to be a standard whereby none could move on without replacing itself. So I went into NYC to meet her at Strawberry fields in central park. She was a little scared to go into a dark place known for scariness, but my friends met her, and we goofed around with the crazies by the john Lennon memorial She was quite a sport. Even though the Taiwanese opinion of pot seemed to coincide with the odd sentiment I picked up in Connecticut which is that pot causes mental health problems; which is ludicrous and its opposite resounds through most of the land.

People were happy I was bring yiang to the farm, because there is a shortage of farm labor, so when contracts of several months of labor are agreed to, and the real strenuousness of the job can catch up to inexperienced workers, people can’t be let go, because there isn’t the option of letting people go, because who is there to replace their hopes?

See, at the farm I managed, it was mainly me, but my help comprised a totally different code; in that I drew from locals fighting cancer and weight, and friends of friends fighting addiction and a lack of work ethic, and yuppies, augmenting their job with the positive supplement of agriculture, all of whom helped me from a few hrs to a few weeks. I would never contract one for a few months, because the longer it goes on there is a burnout , and unless people really take care of themselves, augmenting farm work with the healthy contrast of books, hikes, bars, girls, friends; I can’t afford burned out help. The people who helped me, were rejecting office work seeking help to contrast the sin of the world, said fuck you to the world through a decadent lifestyle of alcohol and not conforming to the work week. The people at this latest farm are the kind that are not leaving a primary job or lifestyle for a few meritorious days of farm work; but have studied agriculture in college and are interns, like doctors, putting themselves through long hours to eventually run a farm; but this turns off potential farmers because the hard nature of the worker is too much over many months for someone out of college. These people must value the physical work over the mammon of office work, be turned on by different places and at all times know this is very hard work. Ultimately it makes sense for many to do a little work, than a few to do much for all. That’s the nature of farming that must be unweighted , released,; contingent upon community and maturity, which is how agriculture is weighted to a wiser polity. Our officials aren’t really elected, so how then can they claim and manifest their offices? Wouldn’t real officials go about and insist upon the end of crime through personal interaction with everyone, and shared serious understandings; that then moves to question the leadership, and movement of our society and thought.

I’ve always had trouble selling at farmers markets. They take time from the fields, are no guaranteed sale, and require hours. Yet I realized the solution; being to hang out at the farmers market talking real unconsidered things, arousing interest and customers. This crystallized because on my way out, I stopped at the local farmers market to elucidate upon marketing to restaurants, incorporating a teaching of the truth within the confines and hopes of marketing. This attracted people. Truth and marketing could go together, essential and obvious as that is.

It is ironic also that my boss is a Muslim. The thing about love to a Buddhist, is that it is like sin, and a corruption of this sinful world. Like TV, it takes mind away from what really is, to an attractive diversion. I would create mind games to play with other workers in the field, such as truth or fiction, in which we tell a story the others have to guess if it is truth or fiction Likewise, contemporary history; does Lindsey Lohan need more jail time? Does Chelsea Clinton’s marriage increase the pressure on you to marry? The second week seemed to carry the affirmation of hard work, incorporation of truth, and the need for the farm to go on without me, and adjust within its own machinations; so I went to visit people that used to work with me in western ny, where I am now. People without agriculture are different and the whole thing between the universe and heaven, the need to discuss and create a better society; can this be motivated by those in need, who have turned to the aids of that to compensate for a not right society.

mulsim

Well, anyway, I went from the Hudson valley to Bath NY, not to be confused with Bath England, where there is a lot of partying also, but done by everyone in bars, and squares per tourism, amid the golden stones of Bath the Romans built their stone buildings from; instead of in Bath NY, at a few party houses, which swell up and overflow onto the sidewalks 2 nights out of three—-because if you walk very far from those sidewalks, you come across non partying people, who are in a good mood too; as if cheered up by the nonchalance, mind boggling, decadence—-at least no one tried to take my hat. But again, I remind you, I share with you my travels in as general terms possible, to avoid offending the three dimensional with my two dimensional paper-words. And also because I believe a natural extension of the American Right to not incriminate yourself, because the signigicance and reality of the kingdom of god absolves the body and blames a crude mind we try to decipher which has eliminated free will; and I believe this constitutional largess extends to the right to not be written about by people who know nothing.

That being said; these are the lower class people, and there is nothing wrong with the term lower class or the lower class people; indeed I met over 50 lower class people in a mere 3 nights there, which is more than the number of upper class people I’ve met, my whole life. There is something friendlier about poor people, no doubt, sociological studies would have conclusively concluded. The lower class has more laughs. This can not be debated. Untill historically recently, there were just two classes.  The middle class has a longer life span. The middle class siphoned people off into business; whereby the discernment and deliberation of community issues because incorporated by the state with local officials, instead of natural concern. And the state is no fit actor for this discussion, because they caused it, and they have a natural stake in it, and by the kingdom of god, representative officials were no more elected than crimes really committed; a paper world, my friends, the old adages can’t fight out of. Most importantly, while there are legal ideals, there are no spiritual guidelines and basic charters such as most fraternities have.

The great thing about towns in NY is they have gazebos in a park in the center of town, where one may engage the actors and try to protect the town from stupidity. This is tremendously exciting; the prospect of entire army of a town marching to aid me; shades of Shay’s rebellion, one of the causes for a federal government, except here all power is inherently in the people, a precept of state constitutions, because we benefit the people, by allowing discussion of their time and life; a sensible discourse, government is alienated from, and their challenge. Of course, liberalism also siphons off from this discourse, the way the tribunes failed the plebes, and democrats fail the people; so much is spent creating an illusion, the magicians corrupt the good institutions.

But at a spiritual level, this milieu of beer and sharing and, possibly construed as decadent, priorities; this slight and happy ignoring of work ethic; these are the people that used to do agriculture, and they know deep down and with certainty the vitality and viability of agriculture; and they know the artificial absence of agriculture from the domain of their mind. These are the people one tries to recruit from to turn onto agriculture: the other kind, when it comes to a few days of labor, are yuppies with a conscience; local lads…..These are people whom guilt motivates.

This Rochester, Elmira, Corning, Bath Steuben County area, seemed from decades ago, simpler and less uptight than Washingto DC and NYC/NJ outlets; stubbled republicanism, absent quiet, no police, perplexing, skitsophrenic, town economy. And yet there were many tragic stories, as if NY does not know racial harmony. Men and women in state prison, or looking at a little county time, or losing their children to tragedies, or fathers in prison for bank robbery—–my lord, these tragic story lines, on the nicest, gentlest sort of people, perhaps an absorption and ignorance of racial alianation and reality—as if the fact that there are different colors on earth and how great that is; is hard to register—as if NY state is from a nearby planet, that doesn’t have the individuated life we have; and gazing upon earth and seeing the different races, that’s incomprehensible–Venus has no understanding that different races are important and special for their difference—Venus has no idea relationships involve a degree of risk-management. It is all so removed from Venus, that NY is obviously sacrificing a safer and realer way, so that somehow Venus sees NY cares about her, and this means something to her, and this will ripple and roll into a saving of humans from the kingdom of god, as it all comes together.

Then of course, if I can speak super-frankly, without offending anybody, by keeping it real—There is an overrepresentation of fat by women; who are general gentle and humorous and socialized. And I have been meaning to tell them, this is like a pennance from the lack of addressing the issue of interracial dating. What more can I say? The bad influence on men of color? The ensuing violence that can not be reported without a questioning of the alianation races can feel here? It’s conincidence with a ridiculous and untrue racial domination of sports? Until this is known and dealt with by women of all color, this weight problem may persist.

All right; the problem with oriental women is that they are preoccupied with their parents and that moral ambiguity causes their uptightness; but the problem with white women is that they don’t understand the obligation towards racial harmony; but as I said, that’s a little hard for venus to get as well. Now this understanding of a planet as having a consciousness, within the universe is hard to fathom, and reminds you of the ancient religion of planetary worship; and these orbs are spinning and going through a much longer time than I or we, are. And if an orb like earth gave life, must not an orb have life that hasn’t been given. And what if they are much smarter than me? What if Venus understands every word I write now? What is she doesn’t like sexist humor? What if she is one of those people who mark the line people much less such as myself cross? What if it is one thing to walk the line like Johnny Cash, and another thing to cross a line. The problem with being published is it makes you staid and boring because those particular nuances I find funny are sure not resound across America. And it is better to write nothing, than have to go through the humiliation writing can cause, again. My whole attitude is based on humor. If the humorless forces advancing, whittling the salt off human like the kingdom of god itself; I am reminded that one must play both ends, humor and humorlessness.

I have found there are two understanding ways to deal and approach people I may not know. The first is that we all republicans, by which I mean responding and genuinely caring and having a bit of control. The other is dynamically similar to this, but represents the society of people who are my friends who are not active in their local republican party, and tend towards conservative beliefs, and it comes out like this: Like a great big circle, we all know someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows you. We all have a similar friend. Someone I am close to, is close to you or close to someone who is close to you. This is a very salubrious therapy on the fraydom that can come in a subjucated mind; the vulnerability democrats and liberals ultimately feel unless they joke around to alleviate things and then realize the world is not serious in the way they act like it is.

And as long as we are covering sociological issues; some of the males I know, who are very good in heart, and thoughtful and generous and highly socialized, are serial daters. This term I think applies to people who have to be in a relationship, actively seek and attempt to destroy fodder for a relationship, may be anxious and not right without a love, can have ongoing loves, strike a tough pose, and are just incorridgeable when it comes to women, and have never gotten married. We must address this issue. Most people are cool. I prefer a society of single people. Freedom signifies a society where I and everyone, is not getting hurt. People with issues must address them; be forced to speak on the subject, to fend off challenge, or lose their authority.

But who or what causes the serial dater or expressor of human, or feeds and takes care of the Kingdom of God? I always thought it was the Kingdom of Heaven? But might it not be the universe; a highly intelligent universe, perfectly understands me; and its mystery, the only one I can discern, is what are the parts of the universe? What else there is there to comprehend? It’s time, sense thereof? Or long term relationships? Or annoyance and pain perhaps? Or the way it senses. Because already I am not trying to feel Venus with my fingers and nose, even though the sense of smell is very potent and I actually feel I can smell the hot vapors of Venus, though first I smell the fires of the sun, then the fires of distant stars, and then the vapors of my friendly Venus. My point trying to be to link the vapours in my nose to the application of my mind towards a perception of the possibly perceptive powers of a planet. Obviously there, they are slower than we are; and slowing down will reveal what they have to reveal, not my anxiety.

So what expresses humans, the universe or the anxiety of humans, is expressed by what? One always thinks it be the eternal human mind wound up in a daily tedium expressing the annoying irrelevancy of Western Civilization. Those millions of members typing away the daily insensible; makes the afterlife representative of something worse than life in this material zone. Yet maybe the power of the universe is far more powerful, none of this is hard to figure out, and Heaven just sits back, comforting as it may.

And what is the correllation between the creation of western civilization and the reproduction of the Kingdom of God? Who does both of these things? If one is stopped, does the other? Scientifically, my blood is involved—making the kingdom talk, and like some weird veil over earth used to create the illusion of western civilization. Everything not talk around me, is the writing and acting that constitutes Entertainment. The news is entertainment, because the news is only 10-20 percent of what we talk about; nor is what we would talk about, if we should talk about what is important, and inhibits the creation of sensible talk by the people. The sounds of entertainment is not the talk the people would talk about, nor talk much about anyway. Take the instance the thematic of foreclosure. There is a lot of entertaining talk about all the unemployment and the sympathy for the foreclosing; but really the talk is about where to move to, what are the prospects for another job, what are the moral dimensions to this situation; real estate agent types, the housing market itself—and ideally, were Talk not inhibited by the vast maw of Entertainment, the weakness we have to putting our heads together and admitting and hearing the admission that they are not fine; there is a Time and Life, to discuss.

And what about porn, if we are considering as much as possible? What makes the Kingdom of God engage in pornographic acts, what moves them beyond the threshold of the people, the way Entertainment is beyond the threshold of Talk? Who or what makes porn? Who controls that domain, forces such behavior? The Universe, or Heaven? And for that matter, even more significantly who forces reproduction and who creates the Kingdom of God? And maybe the universe is capable of compassion and care for the Kingdom of God? In which case maybe the universe can care about me, and answer my prayers—-and the universe has shifted from a miserable pained hell, to a peaceful caring subject that can answer my prayers. And this is where I am in my thought. Can the universe answer my prayers, and if so, for how long. Can it care about my back? Does it deliver a degree of my political prayers by lightening up a bit in its news? When unreal stuff is said on the internet, there is more control than without the internet. And when real stuff is said on the internet, freedom and truth is increased. In any event there is a similarity between pornography and the media; in that no one I know would mix sex and money and do the sex pornography does so; and it is equally hard to imagine adults promulgating the lies and unimportant things passed off as truth, the way reporters and journalists do. This means both professions have controlled people in it; the way people in power may be more removed from natural sensibility and behavior; these people are wholly controlled, in the name of artifice, and elaborate western civilization, creating an illusion to dominate you, and fool and cost people like me.

I am away from the agriculture a minute or two in a place that reminds me of home, constituted as; people feel sorry for me, there is a functional rhythm activating a balance of activities, morning meetings over coffee, working people, home improvement going on, neighbors intrigued and scared by me, dominant conversational women, an emphasis on cooking healthy, an ample yet reserved practice of alcohol, work ethic, a time to catch up on my correspondence with the ethics commission of NJ, for which I am studying how the evaluation of law, is analyzed by political science; and by returning to ancient theorists of the structure of society, I find the core ideals of law, which in turn will help existing laws that make local officials illegal and illogical, and mandate peaceful assemblies, be enforced by The Ethics Commission of NJ, like the old rudder of ethics premachiavelli, upon government; or so that’s what I’m wagering on. So I hole myself in, get a little scruffy and less spiffy, have an occasional surly disposition, and study unity, participation and legal divinity.
But before I do that, and I have to be at another agricultural job Sunday evening, in Saratoga, which I am an hour west of which is at least a two week gig; I want to talk a little shit about Vermont; I have already mentioned how they do not know the evil from catholic Quebec that passes them like the wind of air to an evil fire, and I am a good fire sign, a Leo whose birthday is soon, and I am sort of planning to go to Vermont tomorrow, but I am already getting a funky vibe from it; I have already mentioned how their progressive form of local government through peaceful assemblies requiring quorums of 236 and issues to be voted on presented by the town seems balanced by a lack of proper hippy-rainbows, and this should be discussed, because two friends I have near, share the same story about Vermont; that the people are not as cool there. And if you are from Vermont and read this, don’t get angry, just calmly address it; authority is predicated on enjoying challenges to it.
A person my friend helped, who I got along with in Manhattan, has long expected me should I make into Vermont—but now I sense cold feet—-the friendly, jovial younger generation, another connection, isn’t so as I remember in jersey. So I write to say, I am tuckered out from traveling, really I have had my full of it; but I recognize the relevance, in the fight to make this country better, through godliness, relevance and peacefully assembled council on the economy, of seeing another state; as I see the relevance and tones of the several regions of NY I have visited, the Rochester area, the finger lakes area, the Syracuse area, the Albany area, the near nyc, long island, Monticello, Catskills, Adirondacks, so karmic ally I feel I am close to getting ny on my side and marching into N.J. to free it from the tyranny of local officials and ineffective state government this issue regarding.
To revisit the issue of labor; I found a front of theater regarding the local lads; Being rational creatures they care about and respect the farm; yet being in an age without integrity, are not the farm workers they should be; yet being rational creatures attracted to the natural place and structure and authority of the farm in community: So one should try to incorporate the younger generation into the natural acts of contributing and benefiting from a farm. Thus the battle ground is set, between the centrist element of the farm and the protective security forces with their ambiguity to farm work. These forces understand logic, even as logic has failed to prevail. And further more, the lads ten years younger than they are; are better, and wholesome; so the threat of younger lads must be near the older generation. Moreover, all elements of community must be introduced one at a time. When groups or two of people come to be initiated in farm work here, the energy and spirit isn’t as confident because the tension between my authority, and the authority of peers before me….there is a tension between their turnings to each other and turning individually to me. But the point is, enslaving young lads will lead to the enslavement of all as the kingdom of god–meanwhile of course, they do enjoy what hours they can get on a farm.

Conservatively, I am a little tired and should just stay in the company of my dear friend Terri near Little Falls, and her friend and helper Theresa, and not have to move far. However another way is to visit Vermont, get close to my upcoming job which is on the Vermont/ny border, and see if exposure to another state does some good?

However as I come closer to departure, I feel the wanderlust in me. Moreover New York is very different from Connecticut—though their anxiety may be the same, in Connecticut, it stifles, and in NY it does not stifle as much.–but I knew and know Quebec evil, fortified against, see against NY too and felt I protected myself from Quebec and attribute this misfortune to starting to negotiate with the universe. And the universe existed before earth, and thus we seek the past, and something so offended by the earth, let alone its greatness….I always saw the universe as unable to acknowledge its guilt over its guilt over something bad that happened is what made it’s acknowledgement difficult—and makes it difficult for the universe to acknowledge the being and the kingdom of god, because the being and the kingdom of god, is the signification of something bad that happened.

Yet for the pockets of solar systems of dead stars that predated earth, earth is greater than their misery, and thus their acknowledgement of the kingdom of god and the human being, is and comes from, within their existent exigent misery, in that they know it all along as something better than them, rather than my false assumption in the evolution of my understanding of truth that because it is bad they can not take responsibility, as opposed to something so great, even as worsened, not that they are annoyed, but that they recognize what annoys them, earth itself, the possibility of races of people living, what is, that is. So that something very bad happens is not something deal with, though I am trying to broaden the circle towards it, but this is now ways means they do not know what happened. It’s the theory Elin knew all along and just didn’t object because she thought the whole situation was good, rather that the whole thing was her fault; for encouraging such relation. It’s knowledge they know, just don’t feel guilt, being miserable. Which means their understanding comes from within their miserable psyche rather than from earth’s particular fate.

This is the understanding that governed my mother. The attitude of a government that has no authority because its alleged never responds to challenges to it; whereas my little authority maintains that authority maintains itself by encouraging and answering to challenges, successfully, justifying its authority; is my father. Some people are the universe, others are the government.

And possibly, the stripping loss of my mother, whose security was all about me, in frequent visits, and fortnight or more periods of being in the same household, is consistent with that care being able to be spent in the future on more other people and places; affording me the opportunity to turn and say, “what can I do about this?” upon an affront without worrying about the universe.

In that I mean, while New York is culpable for such error, the problem that causes such error, I have solved, and it could never happen again; in that when bad things do happen, try to find the cause so it never happens again. And it that sense going to Vermont was bad luck, again; and yet it was a good move, I reassured myself on leaving it for Saratoga; because I saw the depressed Vermont, and experienced first hand the effect upon its psyche by Quebec; Lord the Queen should just free that country, who the heck cares if Canada is cut in two, deal with it, study Contracts. Change the name of the Montreal Canadians, for crying out loud; put out some pop tunes on Quebec independence, have more catchy French tunes.

And I clearly saw the milder effect of Quebec on N.Y.. And so, for the first time, being aware, of how messed up Vermont is, really was an interesting perspective of Vermont. In fine contrast to the exuberant and ridiculous bar scenes I stumbled across in N.Y.

Then the case that my legal actions, even to administrative nonfederal and merely advice giving, bring bad luck because the universe is afraid of its guilt, because when everything does change for the better, what the heck is wrong; But see here my evolution gains an understanding that once good starts to transform misery; misery will exist no more; yet that shouldn’t scare the miserable. Right? Does fear impose a reaction upon misery?

And ultimately there is only one sure way to prevent accidents, and that is to slow down the world spinning around me. Fairly that may not make misery fear.

And yet what New York forgets, which it should never again, if it reads this, is that the universe is more miserable than it. If it, this imagination of the state, this rendering in my mind of power, unifying without consent perhaps, and not dealing with the kingdom of god, yet never the less exigent, apprehends and cognates that the universe is miserable, and needs o be apprehended that way occasionally; these accidents, sex offenders, female inmates and foreclosures and pills—all these may stop, if we remember the misery of the universe, because then the paper’s misery is a relation to the universe’s misery. By seeing the universe’s misery, we realize the universe does not want out misery, or our misery is attributable to it, and therefore there may be no need to succumb to it, if we remember and care about the universe’s misery, that care and membrance, might take out the stain upon us, a stain that may in turn be said to be caused by our ignorance of the misery of the universe.

Moreover at near this hospital in Trenton my mother is at, there are a lot of black people in Trenton, and Trenton, has more spirit, than most black places, I believe, to the degree its high school has museum like architecture; yet as we all know, there is this droop they may be prone to; and as I wizen New York to the misery of the universe I wish to wizen to replace the droop with spiff. This is done by understanding the world is a show upon me. I am the only one you are against. I am against you, and agrarian; and you are against me; that is all your life is; being against me. Everything makes sense, the city is possible; not because everything makes sense and a city is possible to be more than a place that protects the countryside, but because it is all aligned against me; to fool me, that all is essentially fine, earth as it is in the papers, and the universe don’t got nothing to do with nothing. This is what you are to try to project, and in its opposition to me, is not hard; so try to get into it, and end the droop, the whole thing is a show to fool me; the world of appearance; prohibits any of that nearly ridiculous lack of bond; because bonds are deeper than appearances, and indeed, nearly separate.

So the channel changed near Saratoga Sprgs. And God controlled the remote. I went from hitting the Saratoga’s farmer’s market, with my brand of secret agrarian police, planning to then win a few bucks betting on the racing stakes at the racetrack, then meeting my Taiwanese Buddhist friend to go hiking in the Adirondacks with, before showing her an organic farm she could work her, thus cultivating my organic farm connections; to leaving after feeding the chickens, chicks, baby and stud goats, angry pigs, which was oddly, very soothing and therapeutic, as these things are done little after dawn, and then off to Vermont to pick up my animal co star Sammy, who kept him a week, I was at the cheese and animal farm, where I finished a large bottle of port with her old roommate, to practically pass out, out of depression of the change in channels; ate a fine meal she cooked upon waking up, and off to NJ from the deepest part of Vermont, picking up my Taiwanese Tibetan Buddhist friend whom I hooked up with a farm an hour north of NYC; whereby I picked her up, having met her a day or two before being overwhelmed by chicken shit vapors upon rain; and was able to replace myself, for after a night of goofing off, I took off to western ny.

Where I got to the hospital sun morn before surgery, her mind was perspicacious, but surgery itself is hard to heal from and there is a long battle to go; the issue of swallowing necessitating tubes; maybe they can adjust nerves playing with hot and cold compresses? That’s in Back To Eden by Jethro Kloss.

But as I said, my mother always was the universe, spinning on so fast ahead of me, never really being able to focus on the kingdom of god, though I now see the universe sees it all along; just dealing with it; and the denial coming not as proof it is not recognized; but as merely an obligation of media, and an obligation of the universe to assert its fear as a defense mechanism that recognizes my power; in that my friends go still; as if they don’t recognize my power; as in my power to change the universe; where man and earth is central to any change; making the articles in the media, and their necessary, but false assertion; though their necessity may not be; the idea of denial may be consistent and moreover be the form, the channeling of the universe so, into the media, be a form we seek to change; that unites the many parts of the universe, or the many parts that inhabit it; yet as part I don’t mean to signify a lack of autonomy; or even independence, but the same relegation, we on earth feel.

I also see the focus of this form in my heart; as if each is worth enough to be owned by the universe; which, part, burning out as body deteriorates, perhaps leaves a burnt odor of death; or a burnt reflection of the passing of worth. This focus of form on my heart; really, signifies the unhappiness of the universe, transitioning it upon its reflection upon government; as it will leap to troublesome character; and what causes that, was an invisible but dark misty veil of vapor rippling electroplasmically across an electrified field, some pulse of signification, registration, perhaps necessary, perhaps not.

I see this concentration of negotiation as commencing an inverse reaction resulting in the bad luck; rather than New York states vulnerability; and insofar as its planet of the apes status; felt rather protected and harmonious, helpful and the like; especially in the ventures towards Christian farms and bible studies, race tracks and the lower class, hikes and winter farming with rows and greenhouse, northern country, a place to move to for more time; this channel this changed; in way that really made me appreciate my getting the hang, finally of this transition from one farm a season, to be traveling farm labor, which I was beginning to love and feel needed; learning about animals and cheese.

If there is one thing I learned about 2006, when 4 important people in my life died; oddly, both 2006 and 2010 mirror each other in my commitment to farming a certain way; 2006 established I truly was committing to this farm; 2010, I truly am committing to working on several farms a year; it’s what I want to do, and feel needed. And I worry now about a rash of deaths. Because not one person dies, Marco, the monarch of central park whose exchange of empties for cases of beer in a shopping cart, coupled with his spirituality rejuvenated and made central park, a very good friend. And Hector, who I had worked with occasionally in Hoboken since I was 17. And Ed, who was a boyfriend of a favorite friend of mine; and Elaine, a dear old family friend, of extended household, and long hours of conversation and sympathy. So I worry I don’t how to stop that now. 2010, that half life number, is causing bad luck, across the world, and in my life. There were some years like 1005 and 1205 and 1809 that had half life numerology in it. But there was an 0 in it that threw off the puissant direct effect, 2010 conveys. The half life scares the universe that controls much of us. The half life symbolizes radiation, eventual death, continuing meager and lessening existence. My mother was a whirling centrifugal force enough that I worried about accidents as well.

The agricultural study of life, vegetable life, is great enough to cause an inversive backlash. For agriculture to succeed, as agriculture, is a spiritual movement; one must change the whole system of society alongside it; that is the nature of the profession. Anything else is wimpy. Thus labor is not to be procured from the few but the many. The Christianity of the kingdom of god, is needed for labor, obviously, simplifying agricultural issues, simpler than salivation is needed in other fields and trades.

Minorities are an important ally to agriculture as their cultures have not been dwarfed by technology and thus show off agriculture. Thus many minority cultures have an affinity to agriculture, see it as common and natural.

My mother was a bit of a matriarchal and semi-surrogate figure to many; when you have as many lower class and homeless friends as me, half of them at some point evoke a reaction of disappointment in her; after though a period of interaction before which such effect is less known. None the less, they are all very sad about these proceedings. With the cell phone, people can call me while I am by her bedside, and though she can’t speak, the offerings of encouragement and hope, she acknowledges with facial expressions. Though if someone says something stupid she turns cold.

Going to Vermont was good. I saw Quebec and felt protected and gained a much more realistic perspective on that state. I was there a short time of not two full days, and two nights. My life I was settling in the northern country learning about cheese and animals, that vibrant and shifting and vital channel on my show was changed, Friday night, after five full days there, long, new, feeling new things, gaining psychological understanding days; to a point I greatly appreciated the semi nomadic and agricultural life I had developed for myself. And here back in New Jersey, my life is full as it is.

What I learned and try to remember: I always felt this lifestyle was precarious, but I was hanging on and getting the hang of it, and loving this new farm and an organic vegetable farm I was helping on the side, and this area on the New York/ Vermont border, with a view of the southern Adirondacks to the west, and the green mountains of Vermont to the north. Yet I felt my life was if not better, at least stranger, with more varied energies and vital life forces, so to speak, to the degree I feared a backlash from the newspaper world whirling about; yet it is not the sad unnatural world the media reports, or the relatively and mildly senseless display of vehicles passing by, or people in supermarkets quietly getting food; it is the universe whose misery might feel jealousy to the engagements of my life. So we must step back and remind ourselves of it, and slow down its misery, so it does not couple onto ours. Really, this is the science I advocate. It is compounded by that we seem to be part of the universe, our thoughts: Like there is a vast inky substantive block of wood in the universe, older than us, that has a link to each, that makes us very lucky to have the tired world we have; its apprehensions of my, and rare, consciousness, I think about. For there is something good about my consciousness and earth, and less about it.

Yet I search for guilt in it for bad news stories, maybe it will ease the load somewhat, somehow, I pray to it, to ease the stream of negative news stories, which will release some pressure, that may give more attention to my work, and possibility gain a portion of salvation through a more direct link to the kingdom of god.

New York state and I were getting along, polishing my hard edges of new jersey, consistently stripping me of my dark green lens prescription glasses, eschewed soon for natural sight; the “be” I sometimes put on shirts with scotch tape to give me that certain look, stripped off, cast as unnecessarily unusual; my CIA, (Christians in Action) hat, dark blue, a no go, as too hard upon a soft and willing people. Yet did it strip of my mother, my routine of regular return to her regularity and conservative security of NJ?

I don’t get upset, not knowing yet how every fits in the large equation, she has had a long significant life and is strong as a trooper; but there is nothing hard about a mother in jersey; which my fears require, or induces fear. When I returned from Quebec in late 2005 after my first year of trying to grow organically, you’d think agriculture’s karma would protect me right? What can the harmony of vegetable growth on earth do, to protect me, but appeal to the elements of the horoscopes in the sky? My first poodle, Max died inside a car crash. That hurt. As did the burnt farmhouse earlier in the year, managed by people from Vermont who took over from me, without much transition work with me. Max’s death is still hard to explain and see. Sammy, a 45 pound more docile version of Max’s 80lb standard poodle, is a continuation of that line; but Max was a huge wild human-like one of us, very fast and stubborn poodle; and I still don’t see this killing of dogs as fitting into a general scheme. To repeat the tragedy, I went to a rainbow gather in Vermont august 2006, with a little young poodle in tow, so said, I can barely say his name, Wesley, no idea the karma at hand, and upon returning to the farm, partly through my lack of diligence, but ignorance from the issue of the reformation affecting things as well, he got hit by a car in front of the farm and soon died. People see me hurt, and want me to be strong. They like the act; as I reluctantly recede within it and attribute this misfortune to starting to negotiate with the universe in a bad year, with bad numbers. Yet if the point is to project a world where all are fine if isolated, in some way, to Him, than socialism makes too great a truth out of what is fake, and somehow has become an anger, never searching to discuss the regulation of education, or have the people come up with a sustainable economy, things that would increase the peace; and essentially angry it is in business, insofar as resentment towards consciousness from the universe may align itself to such complaints and evaluations. But the ironic view of socialism and liberalism, where compassion and hope for all practiced, you’d think then those policy sentiments would have a positive view of people and human nature. But they don’t. Socialism and liberalism is required because human nature is bad. People need government because people are bad. This is ridiculous. It is much deeper than that. People are good at bottom and need good influences. There is nothing humans can’t deal with. It is the universe that is compounding any guilt over the kingdom of God. Still compassion should lead to a knowledge all are good. And that might lead to a better society, where social policies are a stop gap until culture’s self-determination. It would be wonderful if we could combine our energies to asses and conduct the realities of this situation. I see earth in its material as high up in the universe, through some warp, one of the elevated places in the universe, and then the sky becomes where portions of the universe enter, but for what purpose I don’t know. And it seems this experience, as I, is legitimate towards changing the world, upon which my elevation over more pedestrian writing ascribes me a power to rectify and remedy.

Jogging today, I felt like a soldier who has been hit, and no longer runs forward with confidence and humor but with an uncertain feeling, hanging on to less threads.

But the New York Experience on the Vermont New York border, at 625 feet, with 400 chickens 35 hens, 30 goats, and 6 pigs, and a cheese laboratory, really was quite a world; with the science of cheese making, and the psychology of raising animals. Psychologically I was very much preparing myself for Tuesday when 100 chickens had to go into crates to a processing plant—I did not know what this would actually turn out to be.

There is also less work to cheese and animals so I was able to have more time to explore vegetable growing operations in the area, as I have the industry goal of uniting labor and management, so find farms for people, satisfying, people and farms, getting to know owners, and the spirit of labor.

But as I said, I care about the universe, actively, imagining red swirls in the night sky, compassion to the dark, absent holes, from long ago, that exist everywhere, from way before earth, from collapsed star systems; and as I was lying in bed caring about the universe, or transferring that care through space, I realized that care flows into my eye that my universe is in my eye and all down my left side, absently causing my right handedness. The proximity of this blackness concentrates an effort, upon a form, expressing the media, something I feel ultimately, the universe does not care about. What it does care about is perpetuating The Kingdom of God, that is enough to sate its annoyance with earth and consciousness here, signifying a universe of bound contracts; And our hope, the opposing view, is that by influencing, changing, even eliminating our media and government, we teach the universe care, and that spreads to make the whole parts of the universe better, and they allow humans. It’s almost like we are trying to create a garden of Eden.

Gardens, agriculture, salvation, God, completely linked. The Kingdom of God fulfills the market and vital for marketing, and the kingdom of God is a wholesome identity for labor and vital towards finding labor, as well. So farming, more than anything needs, requires and promotes salvation.

Then of course, in this across the board colloquia, militias. Militias, it is hinted at in the federalist papers, for what really are the point of local militias; is to break away from the tyranny of federal government. Now there is a logic to my work that does the job of militias. Thus, can one turn to militias for help? And would they provide the spirit I require, or are they a higher class than this agricultural sustenance?

Back near Saratoga Springs New York I was haunted by the phrase of knowing how things work. In that I know how things don’t work. I realize what is required to make things work. And often see the effects of people who think it works in a way that it doesn’t; usually implying an assumption that something is easier than it looks. If it really was easy, it wouldn’t mask itself as easy. The whole point is to change the government and the media. I don’t think this is meant to be easy. It is important to say I tried for years. The democratic party influence in New Jersey and possibly in general is that the republicans respond to me, have a beer with me, are responsive and commiserating with my issues, whereas democrats don’t talk to strangers, indeed, don’t want to be strange.

And serial daters have problems apprehending what the effect of a past relationship was on the girl. Whereas most men of defining Gallic disposition have gone through such hell with women that they don’t consider entering into relationships with them lightly; Serial daters have never apprehended the feelings of women they have gone through relationships with. I do not know why this is so. An inability to apprehend a world so evil?

I was in Saratoga Springs Wednesday, the day and night of the late night of my mother’s accident. I went to the wackiest farmers market I ever saw; because the race track was in season, and the universe zipping through earth and space like the corner to a collar; and the women looked like heaven itself, with loads of money, and the men seemed to care about looking good, and being polite was impossible, so I said little, selling cheese, answering questions as honestly as I could; for I am not so good at selling to people I don’t know. I want my products to go to people I trust, and know and can contract; like conscientious chefs of restaurants; I wanted to walk around incognito and talk to people about how less exists than they think, so…but I was on a short leash, and to learn that my boss wasn’t a person, but a brand, and how we all are, or should be brands, and she attracted her values, like female goats coming for wholesome nutrition.

Then I had to drive an hour to have dinner with Terry and pick up the cable I left at her house she came to meet me with.

Then I walked around Saratoga parks and looking at drink specials in bar, amazed at all the class of race track visitors. Surely a suite there for 4 and a cheap racetrack and drink specials, makes Saratoga in season a thinking mans Vegas or Atlantic city. And I was enjoying a baseball game, for often I likened having workers to having pitchers, don’t over use them, maximize their victory count. And the issue in the MLB Little League world series emphasizes, is the emphasis upon just putting the ball in play within three pitches. Too often you have batters fouling off, making the pitcher throw and everyone worry about pitch counts.

I realized the entire game symbolized farm marketing. The pitcher is the farmer, the hitters, the market. The market must give in to the pitcher, or must intimidate him, to a point where the market is OK giving in to him.

But what I was focusing on at the dairy farm, was killing livestock, the psychology. You have to stay mellow. Focus with the animals. Feel the kingdom of god, as they do, and feel like the kingdom of god to relate to them. Shepherding never stops, animals are always on one’s mind. For animals are aware of the kingdom of god, or at least the quiet, if they are kept from apprehending the kingdom of god.

Animals, also inspire singing, which means they do have something good for them. You want the chicks to really enjoy a few of their days as chicks, they same way you want a child to have a good early childhood. You want the adolescent, and rude, pigs, to have meaningful communication with each other to justify the shortness of their life in a pen and field, with ice-cream whey and other goodies, pigs love. The goats think as individual and as a herd and are sacred protectors of earth, mystical in their devotion to man, resembling deer, I must add, and such do sacrifice some of themselves for goat meat. The chickens have only a flock mind and are happiest eating, so ironic they become food—likewise you ask one a question and another of the flock answers. Putting them in boxes to be processed was quite a challenge to me ahead. They were in fine hoop houses enclosed in electrified fence of a field encompassing half an acre, which we would move, and had fresh field for the hoop house, fresh millet twice a day, clean water all the time, no sad roosters, and 35 hen laying eggs meandering about all over the place, so their eggs showed up in goat barns as well as their homes.

I discovered the overlap principle, that being the cross set of two sets, one identifying attributes of one person, the other of another, the items in common, which are circled, is the overlap.

A platonic principle of government is that people can participate in it through meaningful communication with office, so wisdom flows well. And furthermore, that authority justifies its authority by firmly and successfully defending the decisions authority made. Untested, closed door authority is not really authority at all; but totalitarianism so beyond human rationality, in that it is ordained by the miserable universe, the kingdom of heaven looks upon this one party order and says it is a little thing compared to the kingdom of god, but how little and less and meager are we, yet the lessening of totalitarian constraint is a relaxation of the order of the universe in my mind, or a relaxing change to the form that guides the universe in this expression it does not want; though should start to evince some guilt in the spirit of states aligned with me that want a reduction of the false in our weekly newsmagazines.

And is it possible to write about the mind as humanity without offending people grievously, because of the cheating, and misrepresentation; Caring for the universe only goes so far. The absent dark depths are real, and floating on perhaps. The universe, not heaven are the animals. The goats, mystical they are, are the universe enjoying animals; their animal conundrum similar to absent depths; they change day by day, too, goats and all animals have moods and good days and bad days–as am sure the contracted universe may, if they went by this sun. And I realize I am important, a center, as earth is, a logical place for change to start.

And most importantly, humans are sacrificed for the universe. You can say it is because the old can’t deal with the young, but the young can say it is done to ultimately help and feel sorry for, and increase the universe, in a utilitarian way, and as an ultimate sacrifice that will eventually bring change to ripple across the universe. So it strikes me as for a reason; yet logically, as imposed, yet faithfully, to effect change, eventually. Likewise, politically associating the dissolution of marriage, with a reduction of the contracts between agencies of the universe, and making government deal with marriage; as opposed to other more polarizing issues, seems quite the broad gate to heaven. The only way to be truly successful as such attitude increases labor for farms, and rearranges society in a way agriculture succeeds; as religion triumphs over politics.

As Religion Triumphs over Politics

The thorn in the rose of liberalism is the assumption human nature is bad. I’ve long wondered how something so compassionate to the unfortunate can believe human nature is bad; for I look at those poor souls and see their good side; and if they have a good side, certainly the more blessed have an even greater good side. Yet I see now how it stems from the assumption Government is needed to check evil people. So the issue is not just giving to the unfortunate, indeed, taking them into your home for a while; the issue is making government do this, for it will not happen on its own; and when you focus on it not happening on its own, you assume human nature is bad, instead of recognizing the kingdom of god.

Really though, it is a sacrifice for the universe; an expression of the universe; a compounded misery to one day pivot into a better universe. And humans are rational reasoners capable of discussing everything. This is just a put on, designed to put on me.

I got fevers the first few mornings around dawn arising to tend the goats, as they require tending at 12 hr intervals. Goat temperature is 103 degrees. They line up on a ramp to wait for the nutrition as they are milked. I learned to tweak their teats out so they may be machine milked efficiently. One sees the moods of animals swing over days, like the daily weather.

Cheese making is chemistry, like a laboratory, transforming with science and enzymes. Alcohol and cheese making do not mix. Extra sensitivity not dullness is required. This isn’t grunt labor require, but teaspoons of germs and cultures.

I got a bad back in Vermont, the weekend before I started livestock and cheese, which involves lots of cleaning with hot water, no flies, and extra sensitivity. But I still don’t understand how the lord chose meat over vegetables, or how the vegetable grower killed the animal raiser when the vegetable grower is nonviolent and the animal raiser kills on a monthly basis?

There is a psychology to meat eating. The universe is enjoying human beings, and can speak; what do its depths say? And the Kingdom of Heaven, all still and forgotten, commenting upon the major, acting little about the minor; it seems life becomes increasingly less the older one is. Blacks are the ancient oldest race, then the orient, which seems of a particular breed of ape; then the Indians escaped all that to South America and North America and the whites are the youngest race who are most prone to hair to protect them in their northern environment.

The sacrifice of humans is because the earth is a center, and high up in the world of meaning, floating with its clouds in some altering reality layers rising to it.

There is something laconic about having livestock. The universe may own a piece of each of us. The use and predominance of blacks in college football, is false and ludicrous; yet a metaphysic, engraved in the form that guides the universe to media, who exchange would seem to gain some human life as it can be construed as a violation comparable to the violation of the kingdom of god.

The universe is in me and hopeless blobs are all about in my imagination. The Presbyterian service has a psychic structure explaining why is why. The Kingdom of Heaven’s force can be felt in reckoning the major problem, but not the minor ones, which would be a relaxing sensation, a lessening of tension, like a cello. We are writers, like porn stars, when we affirm what is not, which we would not do, which we do, without knowing; which the kingdom of heaven thinks is little compared to the kingdom of god. The blobs are not into earth. But good government may show all the good we can do to try to help the blobs.

I have long faulted Christianity with the same claims of the reformation; a misunderstanding of Easter. Yet good churches still need to be reformed. Christianity has bred many Christ’s; we need to find them. Jesus is not the only Christ. He was or stood for, the last Christ we found; and Christianity designed to aid in the production of Christs, in its contrasting service to government.

The self-identity and moral evaluation of women by themselves as attractive to men, must be mastered by them, to live better.

It may all start with some guilt about the news by the universe. Marriage impedes the manifestation of thought. You must be ready for the withdrawal of the news.

  You try to speak to the universe, you don’t know what to say, you don’t know what to expect these black holes of mind will say, and then it dawns on you;  They are much much older, from before earth; and they don’t go by the sun, they don’t count their years by our trips around the sun, they gaze upon our solar system, able to see from so far away; as if our sun is very small, and my brain, tiny. They are linear, not bent by the sun, not in floating orbit, but perpendicular to our solar system, marking time by distant counts, if that; for what the effect of earth going around the sun marking time for them we don’t know.

    But I realized, they are not in this domain of communication; in which that they take more time to respond, being older, and I have to listen and let time pass, to see what answers are already in me, that patience will learn.

    I can literally  streaks of black planes over the sky and horizon, far too great for compassion, possibly holding human beings as hostages, and of an opaque strength, whose motions from within are all that is needed to do a job. Sometimes I see the darkness, and other times, the light; when victors the eclipse and over shadow the other.

     I am sorry so many writings are in such rough draft.

 

 

God is the name for the stuff and force about earth in the universe that predates the universe. Earth and its life, grew within a universe much older. This is much stronger us and therefore, we probably are God, this way. You and the mind, represent God and must guide god,

community organic growing

July 14, 2010

      Dear Kristin, Thank you for talking with me about community owned agriculture last friday and suggesting I send an email of the plan for you to share with the leadership council. I know there is a natural logic to the enclosed proposal, but I also know we do not live in a natural and logical world. So the promotion and implementation of this proposal is contingent upon the ability of people and organizers to apprehend the vitality and harmony of this idea within a world absent of it. I hope you present this to the leadership council, and they act proactively on it. I am available to meet regarding this.

       I have been organic growing for six years. I grew potatoes and other vegetables organically near Hackettstown N.J. selling them to restaurants.

               There are unbought preserved farms in N.J., because the cost is inhibitive to an individual or a family. If 20,000 people gave fifty dollars, that community would own the farm, and show community ownership in organic agriculture, to be more agrarian than individual or family ownership, and set an example for other neighborhoods, towns or communities to go into agriculture, thus reviving the agrarian sense. Let us remember the main cause for cities is to protect and preserve the countryside.

                If twenty thousand people gave fifty dollars and together owned a farm, the following goals would be obtained. There would be a built in market for all the goods produced, and a sizable quantity of the land would be used. I spent hours each week reaching out to restaurants, and developing local markets. It is not easy. A built in market is  incredble, especially that size. (And when I say market, I mean distributing not selling) . Also, there would be a potential labor resource of 20,000 people. Farm labor, and farm living, while fine, is not entertained by many, and hard to get in today’s culture. Out of 20,000 people, not only would there be much labor resource, but many people from the bronx could experience a farm, challenge themselves with farm work, and eventually , enjoy the produce of the farm. And of course most importantly, there would be a correllation between the contribution of 50 dollars, and participation in production, with receiving organic produce.

We would build a little dormitory, or sheltered campsites; most farms have extensive structures to begin with; and people wanting to experience the life a day or three, would be welcome to come out.

      I do not believe there will be money charged for food at all. Hopefully this will become a model for successful agriculture practice. There will be yearly need for a two dollar contribution towards taxes and expenses.  But the 50 d0llar payment would be a one time thing I believe, it would last a lifetime. There will be a need for experienced farmer guides; but I don’t anticipate this being much of a problem.

     Before I went into agriculture full-time, I advocated local community decisions being made in peaceful assemblies, and such would be how consensuses would be arrived at.  I know local peaceful assemblies would want a more agrarian society, to say nothing of a more sensible economy and educational system they feel more a part of. However peaceful assemblies have been abridged when state constitutions incorporate towns with local officials, who subsume the need for peaceful assemblies, and wield authority reserved for the state or the people, in peaceful assembly.

     I also strongly believe most religions and spiritual beliefs are helpful. I have been around enough to know there are common obscurings of spiritual understandings, and that success in this endeavor is predicated upon the capacity of individuals to apprehend what I am saying in a world, which in a large part almost directly does not recognize the precepts in the faith I express regarding proper society, food production, and distribution.

The Etruscan Revival

July 4, 2010

     I believe farms should be owned by many together jointly.   Such  makes start up costs and work less daunting, and if enough people are involved, a natural market and labor force. Having read histories of antiquity, tribal living and identification was common back then, in Europe, the mid east, and africa, I found a farm to work at that was technically owned by several thousand, this entity called The Twelve Tribes, in Northern Virginia, near Harpers Ferry West Virginia, 55 miles west of Washington DC and Baltimore. They have enterprising operations and community living in many places across the U.S. and the world. The men have short pony tails and trimmed beards, and the women tend to wear dresses they make themselves. This was their biggest farm operation. They have an 80 share CSA going, and while I was there, sold hundreds crates of cucumbers, squash and zuchinis to Whole foods, and have lots of heirloom tomatoes and organic potatoes coming in which they have not begun to sell.

      In another plane of reality, this was a farm, an organization, with which, we knew each other already, and directly solicited and expressed interest in my help. Whereas numerous family owned farms, failed to reach me significantly. Because something is agriculture, and good these days; and with agricultural in its underrepresented state; how can one expect the interest in farm labor to be what I would think it to be. Even though we eat food every day; our limited consciousness does not make food production the wholesome priority it would naturally be. Obviously this is the work of Satan. Satan being understood as a vast force in the universe that predates earth. Something that is all around, that we are hollow compared to; that does not want us to exceed into our natural capability and capacity.

Liberals say the underacheiving segment of agriculture, naturally popular and health as it is, is the result of the rich, and greed. But Humans are good at heart, everyone suffers this world; and it is clearly an evil force controlling the kingdoms of God and Heaven making bad happen on earth. And that is the way it has been for thousands of year. All the people have to do to engender a better world, is step out of their homes and get everyone and peacefully assemble and discuss what they want with their time and life and what to do to achieve it. I am sure such assembly would want more agrarianism and less bs in their lives. People are reasonable, given the opportunity. The rich are not stopping members communities from appealing to each other. Satan is. Earth has been transformed to be populated with human beings, the kingdom of god; That great violation of law, and the control it gives to Satan, makes it easy to bypass and ignore peaceful assemblies, abridge them with corrupt structures of local officials, and just represent a front, of civilization, imposed on those who see. And this is not done crudely.

I used to think Satan was a crude force dumber than earthlings, but it is quite alert and cognizant and perhaps technical. Relating to the universe is the next stage in challenging thinking.

And actually, I believe, the twelve tribes farm was able to accomodate me because its tribal sense was liberating, and its spiritual/religious practice of demonstrating early christian community living, made it less prone to the corrupt errors that hold back agriculture. They understand agriculture is a community thing; that it is a simple early christian and necessary existence; its integrity and respect.

        Their communities include a natural organic cosmetic factory, restaurants and cafes and hostels, and other productive enterprises. They are still evolving. I am not saying they have perfected their farm craft, or worked through tribal issues, I feel all tribes must work through, to more be a tribe; indeed, at life and agricultural we are a bit at the same level; in that the conscientious person improves and learns and can’t help getting better each year. They bill themselves as the natural choice for hippies who can see through the veneer of drugs and alcohol and choose the good elements of the sixties understanding and dedicate themselves to those values. One would think its members have been tossed and stormed through the waves and seas and stupid society; as in a sense I have; with my relief on landing on the shores of such simple and humble community. But a good many of them are second generation twelve tribe. And there are degrees of getting tossed around on the shores of life.

       However there is something about the stern edicts of tribal living that polishes the tribesperson so much more than the out in society person. My rough edges, perfectly calculated to cause fear and evince my own considerable fears….they were out of place here, and frankly, polished. My sense of humour, which forever gives me another throw of the dice….they didn’t get, they in a sense are a humourless people, like the russians can be, measuring status by how unfunny one can be. Their monasticism also reminds me of the orthodox. The way they and the russian orthodox stand during a service; they have the potential and practice to stand during the thrice daily prayer council meetings. Of course they raise their hands during the final prayers; which I came prepared for and had practice; no arms getting tired this time. Fool me once.

            They even look slightly russian. But to go on about my sense of humour versus their lack of such; it got so they could signal to me as I started to warm up to one of my favorite racist or sexist overtones; that they were not going to laugh, it was not funny, since they failed to see the humour; and after a few tries over a few days at saying something funny at their prayer meetings, such as “Satan is Gay”, or my bit about how the only good thing about gay marriage is that when those suckers divorce, they may, just may, in their realizing the impermanence and impefection and indeed, manipulation, of marriage, I think they may seem to realize the confusing corruption of homosexuality upon them, so they end up divorcing themself from homosexuality…….there was a lot of attempt to end homosexuality….I guess it was something both of us had taken on in our independent extension of hope to the less fortunate……but those jokes just weren’t funny to them, the way they are to the street in jersey and Manhattan.

        I like to think it is everyone’s isolated alianation to society that requires them to at least try to have a sense of humour; and that the twelve tribes humourlessness, so to speak, is because humour is unnecessary when you produce most of what you use (they are capable plumbers, electircians and carpenters and livestock raisers, as well), and many stores in your area carry your trademark brand of candles, or matte or organic food…..and you do favors for neighbors……I mean, that is what they want you to think.

         Really, I think they are humourless because they are a tribe. And tribes are united by worshiping the same god. Their God is Yashua, pronounced Ya-Shu-ah, which is their name for Jesus, and they believe christianity is corrupted by not living communally, and believe that in the first decades of christianity there was an early christian church that lived and preached living as a community. But the difference between being part of a tribe and being alone in society, or an individual, if such can even be, is that the god renders all in the tribe the same features, whereas such is less stark, in the outside world, fraught with unfamiliar and distrustful trademarks.

              Thus, because they are all controlled by their tribal god, they are collectively funny, (indiviudally, singularily, not so). Their pony tails, and bustling dressed women, and raising hands in the air and straigtforward demeanor, and fraternity like aura, that’s all slightly funny, probably designed to amuse and cheer up a more forlorn society. So they are funny as a group; like an adept band, or musicians can be, in music, or after concert gathering, like a sports team capable of running adept even tricky plays, or a well reasoned political party striking a goal; but outside of that, jokes about funny coincidences, that’s all handled tribally. Indeed, after two weeks together, each day starting with a 6am meeting, I felt we both thought we needed time apart to regroup, and restrategize, more aware of the opponent in witheach now.

       For instance, when I arrived there, battered and tossed enough on the seas of life and shoals of darkness, I was wearing my “CIA” hat, one of the few funny vestiges of north carthoginia I’d picked up for five dollars at a supermarket. Its a dark blue baseball cap with loud white letters CIA up front, then in smaller letters underneath, in red, it says Christians In Action, and then to the side in smaller yellow  letters, Jesus loves you.

        I simply had no idea the twelve tribes think christianity such a corruption of its intent of community that they shirked an identity with it. This cap, which was so funny in a way, because it captivated evangelical christians, kept atheistic nuts away, and made certain people scared I was going to start preaching, it kept everyone so off guard, or especially on guard that I found wearing it to be amusing, if something to be learned; and I thought appropiate for two weeks of monastic living and wholesome farmwork.

        Well I arrived on a hot monday afternoon, parked the car near the fields and joined them in the fields, where the gnats were so bad some say they necessitated those net hats, and certainly gnat repellent. Indeed, the gnats were such a pest as to make the weapon of short pants fairly obsolete or only ocassionally recoursed to. And it got quite hot while I was there, going into the nineties easily for a week. However, after rain, the gnats left, and they were less prevelant in the higher parts of the field, and when there was wind the gnats weren’t seen. They also decreased upon a prayer to Yashua. I set about to work, and heard people wonder if the CIA was not bugging its fields. I guess from a distance you can’t see the Christians In Action part. Then later, after parking the car near their big house, and walking up to it for the first time, I was run over to an investigated by people who had not met me yet. Again, up to now, the cap always served to bode christian pretenses. Here, it boded CIA pretenses. So the cap didn’t go over well, as I imagined, and I soon switched to the cowboy hat I’d brought.

          Likewise the dog I brought didn’t go over as well as I imagined either. Usually if people object to me, they usually like my dog, Sammy, a small standard poodle, who is docile and doesn’t run away and can generally charm most of the time; Whereas at times I may say something unexpected, Sammy is always there with a smile and a grin, saying nothing, being nice. They gave me a room with a window in their basement off a hallway with its own bathroom not far from the laundry room with a door to the outside courtyard from the hall. It was a big room, big enough for two beds and a lot of space in between. But my dog was not allowed in the house.

         Earlier in the year, south of virginia, this problem at a farm was solved by Sammy sleeping in the small red pick-up truck; but then it was cool at night, and now it was hot all the time, and there wasn’t another dog to roam with Sammy in an educated way; but I kept him tied near the field I worked, and off the fields back to the complex of houses and building a quarter mile away I put him in the truck while I ducked in for food and liquid. They are very big on 3 moderate square meals a day with an ample snack at 11am. My streak eating and binge eating had to go. Nor could I control what was served, nor cook it myself. So my regular routine was disrupted. Nor did they drink coffee, instead, using matte, made from Brazilian leaves of the best kind, that like coffee encompasses milk and sugar or honey and icecream and is slightly energizing, but seems to thicken your tongue and hooks you into the matte feel.

       Anyway Sammy got way to adept at opening the back window of the pick up and sneaking out and even apparently into the house, so for a day or two I found him tied up to a tree or wandering outside the big house; so since the law seemed to be no dogs in the house, and not wanting to violate the rule, since following little laws is consistent with following big laws, aka, the prominent old testament laws against graven images and incence in high places, motivated the isrealite ability to follow good laws from their rabbis and religious structure.

       So I made the decision to find a tent and a place to camp out on their many acred property. I had been searching this angle since my first evening. But ironically, as I was walking up their inclinded property near where the goats are in a muddy area with bramble and forest to the right, a cat started speaking to me out of the bramble. You know the way a cat can start making human sounding noises. I didn’t talk back but kept moving up the stone slate slats up the hill the stone plates slightly pathed amid the mud and bramble.

       At about the level of the cat, the cat, being jealous of my relation to my dog, who was on a leash, attacked at the dog. Sammy, being the docile part who opts for respect, and barring that, getting away, slipped his collar in a jerk, and got away, untouched, but amazed, like me, at the fight this wild cat feral being had in him. The cat, realizing he could not chase Sammy stopped, and wondered what to do. Sammy saw the cat chilling out and returned cautiously a few feet, I kept striding up the hill, amazed at what fight the cat had in him, all hissing and punching claws on hind legs like muhammed ali or something; soon confidently passing the cat, and Sammy using me to stay in between the cat and him. So the cat attacked me, my bare calfs, like muhamed ali all swirling paws and claws and little cat forelegs, even leaving two piercings in me from its cat fangs. My left calf was all scratched up and bloodied and bruised in under two seconds; till realizing what was happening, I sternly no nonsensed it, and the cat backed off and I kept walking, still dazed by how they could object to a docile standard poodle, with these potentially child-injuring feral cats roamed and ruled the outskirts of their property. Later, upon inquiring, I learned there were two sets of cats, the ones that lived with the goats, who weren’t petting cats, but mousers, and meaner individual wild cats who would attack the goat cats and get beaten and made miserable by the goat cats. The irony of this was not lost on me; and it made searching for a camp site more trepidous by virtue of my experience with these crazed feral cats.

      The farm is called stoneybrook farm because a stony brook runs through it at the base of the large property with houses and barns, eastward, to the lower edge of the fields to the north east of the former property, where they divert water with their home made pump to irrigate the 24 acres under production of parts. As the brook enters the first property there is a site that has been used to camp before, with an old camp fire pit, near the brook; where I eventually made myself comfortable, not even needing a tent, just a tarp and blankets and I was quite comfortable being able to use my room to keep my clothes and change after washing, and spend nights or quiet minutes of the day, by the burbling brook, which never stopped burbling, though I at times stopped hearing it, then reminded, started hearing it again. This also had the curios effect of some slight degree of holiness, as the twelve tribes believe in humility, the least is the greatest, sort of thinking, the meek sleeping outside shall inherit the earth, while I gazed at their large houses, mansions, perhaps, at night from the hammock I spent the first few nights lying on outside the forest path that led to the campspot, the chapel I called it, that worshiped the v-shaped tree, and the setting sun, when it was setting early behind the hill looming over slightly the campsite. I was afraid because of the cat, to sleep by the brook initially, and slept on a hammock under a tree so dense I did not get wet when it rained, and then grew confident enough to sleep amid the spiders, cats, and deer, and later high school graduating locals. The twelve tribes of isreal had a real camping history sleeping in rigourously proscribed tents, especially in their march from Egypt to the Holy Land, led by Moses, and his brother Aaron.

         The irony, the lord moving in mysterious ways, of the rule, enabling me to sleep outside, increased my medidations, especially at night, so I got the full monastic experience of excellent medidations. The Lord moves in mysterious ways because he too, is against Satan, and Satan is very powerful, so in his degree, the lord can often only help by negating a negative, rather than affirming a positive so to speak. Satan being described as a pre earth primordial force of many parts and misery causing the kingdom of god, and willing all the bad things that happen in the world, keeping the world from reorganizing based on truth and spirituality.

        You may think living in a tribe in a community with people around signed on to values, is easier than living on the outside. For one thing, once you start producing your own things, all the commericialism of the local stores look bad and feel alianating; so it is its own unique situation. That being said, where there are many people a part of a community, there are many people, many variables and parts of the equation. On one’s own or with less people, there are few people to offend, a rythm a nature easier to create, a comfort swifter to rule. I found communal living to be rife with unpleasantries that never caused a problem or were that unpleasant, but ran up against more to scrape than living by myself; particularily being on my own on a farm I was in charge of; to conforming myself and diet, to their pattern and schedule.

        It took a transitional week just to get the hang of being a part of a community, providing order to my spaces and ways, getting used to no tv and not much internet; in that usually I am not around a TV, and the internet here was in a cold room airconditioned to store the crates of vegetables until moved, untill their walk-in freezer was completed at the farm stand.

            The farmstand was constantly having work done on it, paving, stone work, being expanded to look like a ski lodge with outdoor stone patio for their cafe/juice bar. They own lots of construction vehicles, the farm stand is in a raised corner of the the farm field, and there is another twenty acres a mile away they’ve planted with potatoes. THey have crack accomplished construction crews who travel about the country if necessary working construction jobs for money for the tribe. While many a hippy farm has gone broke and had the electricity shut off, or been condemned by the county for taking on too many cars it can not fix; the twelve tribes are vengefully industrious.

      But transitioning to sleeping outside, and waking at 5am with the sun in the long days of June then hoofing over to a house closer to the fields apart from the main property, for a discussion prayer group about the farming, and the construction, equally meted with construction crew and farm crew, with matte and farm eggs and cantelope for breakfast over the meeting there. But the second week, I made every early meeting easily, and it was easily the most pleasant time of the day, getting the head together with everyone, at a very special hour; a little like mens group breakfast, the meetings often fading into convivial conversation, then fading still into work in the field, or after I’d go back to tend my dog and bring him out to the fields with me. 6hrs of work was requested from. Some days I did much more, others a little less. I found that realism regarding the hardness of this work is required. Throughout my work life I have seen people unexpectedly burn out, and I saw it again here. Like athletes, people, players, have to be managed well. So their work effectiveness is balanced and contrasted by effectiveness at other activities, so they are forced to relax and take off so as to maximize production and minimize stress. The first saturday was a “push” day, meaning they worked on their farmstand on their sabbath. Sunday is called their first day, and is a work day, though at a slower rate. And it is nice working on weekends in context of the background of a kinder day for the world. But it is a tough one day weekend week, each day starting early, and one has to get to bed early; and I saw people burn out, people have to managed, like baseball pitchers, to maximize their effectiveness. The spirituality and prayer is vitally energizing; and people are encouraged to sleep late and not work on Saturday, though the first saturday, they all worked on the fancy farmstand from noon to 6.

       Since the farm was 5 miles from the appalachian trail, both saturdays, in the late morning, I ducked down over there. It also gave me the chance to drink a few beers in the woods. As you may know, I spent 4 nights on the appalachian Trail in North Carolina and Tennessee and frankly found the dominance and lack of social skill by the thru hikers annoying. It was a little like the NBA being dominated by obnoxious athletes, so to speak. I mean what is more likely, 90 people to take 90 days off to hike the whole 2100 miles trail, or 90 different people take one day off to get on the trail a day, so 90 different people enjoy one dayon the trail each day for 90 days? Yet in north carolina I passed 50 thru hikers for every little hiker. It makes no sense; how can one take off for 90 days? wouldn’t there be correspondingly charming social skills, and an environment that didn’t pressure making many miles, but enjoying the spiritual cathedral of the place? And of course it rained and snowed and sleeted for 3 of the 4 days for which I was holed up in a shelter for over 24 hrs with many others, where the sharp hard edges wore off and were replaced by bonds and understanding—

      This time as I went north 6 miles to Harpers Ferry W.VA,  to the 340 bridge connecting to maryland over the potamac river I rested my feet in, and back, I passed a group of families, and a group of women, and 3 groups of two people and no thru hikers; Harpers Ferry being halfway between the start and finish in georgia and maine. This was ironic Karma. Shows how things change from state to state. And then the following saturday when I ducked out intending to go south to a trail headquarters where if it wasn’t so hazy there was a view of DC, 5.5 miles and back; there was a burrito party “trail magic” for thru-hikers off the side of the trail a hundred yards. They reminded me more of locals than thru-hikers and I thought nothing of not stopping in. However at a shelter a little south of it, talking to another day hiker I came across gnarly, more hippy rainbow like than thru-hiker people in that they were young, down on their luck, and getting by with spirit and humour rather than ease. I’d never really met the thru-hiker more interested in my stash than hiking 20 miles in a day; and they all would seem bundled in spandex like material and expensive gear and be clean for all their faults. So this was a new chapter in my veerings onto the trail.

        One of the finer parts of the days on the farm were the raspberry and blue berry bushes I was encouraged to enjoy. Such anti-oxidizing treats, and moving from one taste to the next, were highlights of my day. Likewise for Sammy, he enjoyed when we’d stop and feed the goats in the pasture between the fields and the property with the houses and barns on it. Sammy was very intrugued by the goats, making me wonder if he understood they were prone to high hind legs, and seemed very strong, and strange with their goatees, and ear wiggle hello’s, bahhing, and scrutiny.

       It was also nice growing a beard, or perhaps I should say, not shaving. My beards tend to look a little like the beards of that tyrant in Iran. You see, in general I always wear my little uniform of a polo shirt and khaki-like pants for a couple reasons. Having an open mind for employees, for as an organic grower I would employ all sorts of problematic people offering them work as an improvement and salve, and they in turn would sometimes cause problems with the community at large, so I took to wearing polo shirts and khakis as then I least I looked well-dressed as I tried to atone for their latest mess-up. And ever since one employee got into a gun fight with a neighbor, I have always worn a shirt with a collar. I never or rarely wear t-shirts. We are our brother’s keeper: that should at least mean dressing handsome to soothe all who complain about it.

        Likewise, people like me, who have run for public office, filed papers in courts on behalf of benefitting the people, and have some of the oddest people the locals have ever seen working for him, and market and sell to the general public; behold a uniform like dress the people have seen us in before, as it allows us to get a little closer to people because people are used to us, in that costume and not apprehending new looks and ways, but a comfortable old form who may need to talk to you about something pressing.

          Likewise there was no beard in my outfit. Generally I shaved well several times a week, at most having what is playfully called, “scruff”. A beard at some level is tantamount to saying, “F-you” to people, I think, at least. A beard is like being scruffy and that’s it, so be it, that’s the cost, this isn’t about you, I am busy in my beard, sort of thinking.

               But here, beards were encouraged. They weren’t idolatarizing insults, but a noble look. They were smiled upon, not looked upon otherwise. So I had no problem finally letting my hair out. It was wonderful. The lack of insult it posed, and not having to shave or worry about it.  It blended me into one of them. Except I had no desire to have a small pony tail. If anything, I am darned enough to require a crew cut, and gave myself a close cut right before I left for there. No pony tail for this baby.

        Regarding their clothing, among the men, there is a slight effort to wear dull drab colors in humble respect of not antagonizing Satan. There is very little color among the male clothing. I wore my baggy emergency yellow-orange day glo polo shirt, and I could tell, it caused a sigh among my fellows. They did not say anything, but I clearly picked up an anti stupidly bright colored shirt sentiment; and as well, that I didn’t wear T-shirts, conflicted with their peasant of God look and attitude. I mean here we were a community, we had each other to talk to and query, everyone was polished and social, no one did drugs or was crazy, we were a community, with a different uniform, a humble disposition resting in the grace of community, not arms of the outside world—the community was responsible, not the individual, so there was no need to resort to devices to take on the outside world. I feel I didn’t floss enough for their liking. But at the same time I washed the floors and molding of my room, under the beds and the matts as well; and I had to do my own laundry and wipe down the bathroom shared by the hall. And in general did a few domestic and beautification chores, even though there was a gender divide in household contribution.

          They also wore these wonderful white, maybe embroidered, headbands, diadems, to their prayer councils. They looked like the halos surrounding certain images in russian paintings. It gave them a holy looking blessing and feel. I wanted one to. It was fashion superiority completely, but I had too much pride to ask to wear one, and no one offered me one, so I took the whole slightly smug scene as what is was: A bunch of people wearing diadems around me.

           I have helped three farms this year. The first was by a young farmer difficult to communicate with, and I think possibly over their head. The second was with a ninth year grower, very easy to communicate, with a small reasonable market of a 25 Box CSA. They gave me a little stipend when I left, which meant a lot to me, ontop of learning about their farm. It took just a few days with them to catch up. Their market wasn’t big enough to require me there long, and they wanted me to come back, but things happened and I never got around to it.

      At the twelve tribes farm they are pursuing a large market, of over a hundred thousand, which isn’t easy; and while they don’t stagger and  use a biodynamic calandar or have lots of espoma fertalizer around, they do know several things I don’t and we all had some relative experience without being very experienced. Because they offered frequent opportunity to talk about the fake world and what is true and what is false; which fundamentally, mastered, will be more valuable than money, and because they support a community, and are community owned and have many ventures going which require capital, I could not ask them for money. After two weeks there, we were caught up on the massive amounts of beets and carrots and cucumbers that required some weeding, and making the massive Tuesday harvests, which can result in 60 boxes for whole food, and a hundred boxes for the CSA, as robost shares got two boxes.

                 Why do I call them etruscans? Etruscans were the oldest and wisest tribe in Italy when the Romans arrived, possibly from Troy when Persia was kicking the eastern greeks off the shores and islands of Turkey. I imagine Italy wasn’t as warlike and as easily provoked as Romans, who mythologized Mars as their father, and a raped vestal virgin as their mother.  And the Etruscans I believe were among the last tribes the Romans conquered and subdued, and moving to present day tuscany to get away from the Romans.

         BUt they were a wise peaceful tribe; at some point mirroring Rome’s society and traditions, or vice versa. Whereas The Twelve Tribes have to deal with Washington DC around the corner. And the twelve tribes are very grateful for the religious freedom Washington offers. And whereas at some point it may be gleamed from the annals of early history, that the etruscan gods controlled the roman people, and all their war, a sacrifice benefitting the etruscans; you’d think, with the tribe’s emphasis on christian community, endeavor and enterprise, and wholesome values, maybe America sprung from them. Maybe the tribes are not conforming to the ideals of washington dc, but american society is trying to conform to the ideals of the twelve tribes. Sure the twelve tribes are in america and a corallary of American life, but aren’t the values they grip the core America seeks?

      And yet while there are great expectations of this tribe; they could precipitate a more tribal christian america, at least that is what the virginians hold in their outer minds; just because they live communally, does not mean all the good and the way to procure has been mapped out and done. Their fortune are very tied up to the virginians around them, whether that is admitted or not. I mean this tribe is a collection of people, it is a form, it is not fulfilled. And the suburban, small town, rural virginia around them, is a collection of people, a form, albeit perhaps a less sensible one than a commune, but it is not fulfilled. People do not visit and know their neighbors. People have not overcome the literal walls between their houses. And this is because society is a show,  a front, obscuring the kingdom of god, heaven and the universe. This contrivance is attributable to the universe as well. Likewise the tribe has not necessarily already connected as communal individuals might have done by now. The walls between the virginians, exist between the communal tribe; the friendships and workings of all community is withheld. Yet the tribes have better form, and an equation to be fulfilled. But your average suburban community has a potential equation to be fulfilled. While suburbia may not be as vitally useful to each other, as a commune requires; once the momentum is started, these deeper problems may be resolved. Thus salvation is more likely to break out in several or many places, than just one.

        I think they saw me as a good person to join their tribe, and I saw them as consistent with my plans for a spiritual and agrarian renassance in America, and States. In many ways we both have outreach programs, are religious, and believe in health. Several times, my prayers to Yashua, with them, were answered. One prayer was to shine a greater light upon evil so as to better see how to deal with it.

             You see, back then, I, like the twelve, very much saw everything as a battle of good vs evil, god, versus Satan. And we swiftly agreed on a working definition of Satan. Of course they believed in Yashua against Satan, where for me it was more being against Satan with whatever force worked.

            And seeing Satan as forces of the universe, blowing out earth, predating earth, and having many parts, that were not all the same, as something beyond the sky we could barely see, our eyes more made for material, than the edge of our mind made for perceiving the hollowness earth seemed to exist within, penetrating the atmosphere like nitrogen, but potentially being opaque, and more solid than the material world, in that the material world passes through it, but it can not be seen to pass through the material world, this dark rembrantlike background to the purview of my eyes; all this made me see the human endeavor as a chance to work out the conflicts of the universe through our vessels and in establishing peace, establish blessings for earth. For its a little like the dinosaurs where the tyranosaurous does not let the little leaf eating dinosaur live.

         Thus I initially prayed the universe or satan sees us as vessels to work out the longer problems beyond us. I did not attribute human miseries to humans. We can deal with anything; marriage, reproducing the Kingdom of God. For the problem in dealing with me, who has not been married, or reproduced successfully, comes from married, reproductives, in that marriage, is not the blessing it is made out to be, and what we reproduce is not what earth’s nature intended, being transformed by the universe, to these minutae we work out now. Marriage, in the grand scheme of things, is a contract, like the contract among the parts of the universe, that render too close, and are ultimately undesired, uncomfortable, and friction and stress causing. So the universe is under contracts that must be dissolved for peace to ripple, even though I speak not in authority. Thus each couple that must divorce, must see such as an opportunity to talk through an evil contract in the universe.

      Likewise marriage reproduces the kingdom of god, for the universe, I think. Humans, though it may be difficult may deal with this phenonoma and take responsibility; whereas the universe has difficulty acknowledging what it has done on earth. Thus the problems on earth represent problems of the universe, and not human problems or issues. Ergo, the key is working the parts of the universe to a knowledge of what is here; and while that may be recognized with time, or to degrees, or intermittently, or by some parts but not others. So somehow, the root of our society as reproducing, as more responsibility than our paper jobs, is where is galvanizing any reconciliation towards the future.

          But after I prayed for a light to shine on evil so we would better know what to deal with, I went to my tarp by the river and gazed up at the sky and universe beyond spending tiny specks of several colors composing the air my eyes see, and medidating on what is beyond the sky. When the trees seem to whisper and bow their heads in the wind to the universe saying…, “You think the Kingdom of God on earth is bad, the universe goes through far greater pain” And the trees bowed their heads, submissively and the wind blew and looming over earth far greater, some convex oval shadow over a percentage of earth, but far and easily larger, with pains of red at several levels in between my eyes and what I saw beyond the sky. And I saw the pain and evil which I try to see in Satan. And I realized two lasers of red light were pressing up against my eyes from the universe; presses I strive to see past and not let rule me through their touch and work, but see what they are designed to prohibit seeing.   

       Then days later, as I realized the intelligience here from the  universe, and tried to relate to their longetivity, I realized a black solid of another type existed all around me. And while there was a force entering my mind, it was of something millions of times greater and more all around. Obviously the situation is pretty desperate; and yet there are plans. The tossed at sea require the truth of these medidations. The perceptions of the anxiety and stress of the universe, is what monastic soldiers do at these places apart from society. We are there, lying on backs, fighting or negotiating with Satan, for the benefit of earth.

        The lifestyle and lack of decadence, the notion of 50 people being in bed by 10pm, that was so important to me. That last thing the tribes are is decadent. And the point is for a varied nondecadent lifestyle, they have songs and dancing, greek dancing, where all ages join together and dance in a circle, as an orchestra of assorted instruments including me on the kalimba, chime from the background; there being accomplished musicians and special songs and dances to go along with the special friday night meal.

       A big tribe requires people. Hence there is the tribe and their family, or a tribe of families. There are not many single people in their numbers, though there are a few. There are many young children as well; and it is an issue whether they will remain in the tribe. A group of their construction workers arrived after the first friday to help get the farmstand ready by July 4th.   A lot of money was invested in the stone work and tall ceilings and paving and getting many truck loads of fill dirt and shaping an ampitheater near the fields they plan to rent out for shows. These construction workers were spiritual and godly and socialized, readily admiting the horrors of construction work, how it is a vocation of the lesser of two evils, and not ideal at all.

       In the morning meeting I also saw the opportunity to address the market and capitalism as a cover-up, and how dealing with the economy as the kingdom of god was desired, and this was fairly readily agreed to and very important to me, to see the coupling of spirituality and agriculture. Though getting whole foods to admit their market was false or not as written, or getting the locals who’d mill a bit about the farmstand looking at the honey and pies and vegetables from the fields in the lower background available, this was not actually attainable; at least it was a stated value, and could, in general circumstances, with astute perspective, be dealt with.

       At the same time, I saw tribes as required to go through the marriage and family versus tribe dilemna. At some level, their families limited their tribe; and I saw tribal anthropology as necessitating the movement towards tribes away from families, in an understanding, a canopy, that was quite inviting, and regarded; even though I did not bring this up; it being something that must feel good to be presented. So I was glad to break away after two weeks, in part because their married quality, and marriage in general, can alter and squash, actual renditions and understandings, in the community at large. Married people in general, can be difficult to deal with; but this is nothing so and easily acknowledged, and being around a community, with frequent interaction, with married people, actually has helped me immeasurably, in a way. Yet I felt patched up by their lifestlyle, polished by their lack, and ready to be tossed by the seas again, without interfering in their consensus to marry. For they do not believe in premarital sex; nor do they believe in men bathing in the pond without a t-shirt, and tend to evoke old fashioned photos of city folk at the beach in striped suits from the knees to the shoulder.

      Part of marketing, as you work on that trademark, that style, that stands for values your buyer knows you stand for, attracts people like you. The people of Virignia were very intrigued by the twelve tribes, and never said a bad work about them, in Loudon County Virginia. Whereas in others alleged hipper areas, such as Asheville NC, or Ithica NY, I hear, they are put down, even despised in a light way. Because those elements rebel against religion, but more so, don’t care that real estate prices are raised by active farms, nor that a curious monastic tribal people with a brand name, attract tourism.

        As I looked forward each night to stare at the universe and try to perceive through the material world, as best I can, after some hard days of work, and some afflictions too, of gnat bites, cat scratches, and fertalizer fumes…..they were discussing why one book in the testament allows certain sorts of food, but not others, and flipping through bible finding quotes over lunch in their veranda….it’s a lot like a fraternity in that sense, with nice-furnitured rooms, and porches and degrees of social skill…..I looked in Jeremiah and saw the Lord condemming his people for worshiping the Queen of Heaven.

       Looking at the air and the sky, with Venus out, I realized the planets have consciousness and are in the unique position of being for the solar system and earth, but a part of the universe, and with their own complex. Venus, which I think obviously is the Queen of Heaven, seemed to have her own displeasure, and concerns, and even to stand in the way of Yashua’s doing to rescue the universe and save Satan, which is really what it is all about, if you are monk type. Venus or The Queen of Heaven, is angry being so hot on one side so much, and maybe also not bringing life out of her consciousness; and didn’t want things to go the way Yashua did. Her way would be to control all the women to admit they are out of control; because women are a bit out of control, that assertion at some level is hard to argue with. And here in Virgninia, with all those failed marrages and kids brought into the world, maybe more so than ever. Because in general, by my gallic code, men fear each other, but women don’t fear men because men who fear are feared. Yet around Virginia, the women were more uptight, and instead of enjoying my style for the threat it poses to society as it is, and feeling protected, they like get nervous and are uncool.

       BUt the question remains, if one good god in the universe wants to get things done a certain way, and another goddess stands in the way wanting to do things her way, do they work together? Can we acknowledge other powers and still worship Yashua, the tribe’s master? The same way I feel the universe in me, I felt the concern of Venus in me. Somehow all the objectification and unathleticism of women, a serious topic a free society would have reconciled and knowingly dealt with by now, is a sacrifice for Venus. The same way whites have trouble compounding the significance of race, Venus has a hard time understanding how we are different colors. The way Venus is driven so by her heat, so those flames have been corresponded to our women; for the point of one day utilizing venus in the freedom of earth and the universe we may attain.

        Likewise the curious curio of catholiscism, whereby rather than the terminology and teachings and applications of gospel and bible towards salvation in life; all that christian reform, is travested by the corruption, which comes with Paul in the section after the bible, that spells forgiveness for sin from a death that did not even happen if we go by the evidence of easter…I mean I  dont want anyone to die for me, nor do I feel it would help me…indeed it is the turn off to religion through catholicism that promulgated the reformation….yet that corruption and confusion, is a sacrifice to Mars, which once had life and went extinct, in sacrifice for less molestation and extinction of earth. Thus the greatest corruptions of the west seem grounded in the intent and desire to work with forces of the universe.

         This is another dissatisfaction with tribe, that may have necessitated our retreat and regrouping: They believe Yashua, the only son of God, died for them, and I believe Yashua is of the god of earth and did not die for us at all, indeed the market reality is that there is a lot of transformation of the natural human; everyone died; its just the universe, not some metaphysic involving heaven, seems to require the lies about this, and founding government and society based on truth, an issue to work out lying in an understanding of what happened to everyone. The spirit comes before the law; the law does not create the spirit. While   a great deal of prayer and democratic council, overlaps with my beliefs and values, this, and the marriage, I believe tribes are destined to work out, and the division according to gender, are three issues I have. If I can first add onto the subject of marriage that marriage, in so far as it is induced, can kilter the reasoning. Because thinking straight and reasonably, may be perceived by the institution of marriage to to threaten the pressure to marry, which is the pressure to reproduce disguising marriage as love. Thus reasonable work relations can be impaired by marriage. Marriage and family definitely can conflict with tribe and work.

           The last here is that having spent a lot of times in the fields and a lot of time cooking and cleaning; women can be better than men in the field, and require less supervision, and be capable of supervision; and that it is therepeutically important for men to cook and clean for everyone as well. I believe the farm would be better served by all there being required at least one hour a day in the fields, to become stronger, and that the few men working, be rotated into the cooking that feeds all, and to choose that menu. Indeed, a community farm shouldn’t rely on stalwarts for the work, but everyone getting stronger and used to contributing farmwork. I felt some despair from not enough people being into working in the fields, and some stifling from a consistent relegation to domestic activities. That is oposite to my understanding that everyone needs farmwork.

     Maybe the name of the state virginia, causes the domination of venus. To date though, women haven’t started admitting they are out of control, though maybe, with proper worship of the queen of heaven they will. But if venus is a god, so are those who represent and see for earth. Earth is a god, and those prescient a part of it, and it is not so bad a god at all; if it could be unfurled and actually make sense enough of the universe to negotiate with it effectively.

While the terror of the universe, was at times on my mind, causing squinting fascination, one can’t think of that always. The yuppies of Louden county were more polished, and seemed more capable of self-defense–of course there were more people associated with the defense industry than I was used to: But that’s the federal government for you. As well as the sense that they were better than their New York City Counterparts: almost like a subconscious pride and attack upon NYC, to be better than it, it’s more multicultural and media rifed scene. This was demonstrated by their greater love for organics, than the NYC market I knew. The DC market had more organic pride. Maybe because of the ideals of government. Certainly the ideals of government, which are ethics themself, are greater than the ideas of the sleazy irresponsible absent and sensationalism media all centered so stupidly serious in nyc.

However, it was difficult procuring a decent cup coffee out there near purcellville. The twelve tribes didn’t drink it much, choosing Mate, nor did the local store in Hillsboro have adequate coffee; so one had to go to purcellville to have the cup of coffee that makes everything ok.

The women though, were ridiculously vulnerable. Really, all these disheveled recently divorced women in their thirties coming out of the years of confinement, and in some awkward vulnerable state; which I never saw in nyc/nj. Most of the women I know are strong particularily not vulnerable women- if perhaps tending to relationships as a security blanket. And Venus would taunt me everytime I saw one. And I’d like “what the heck is going on? Why are all the women I pass, (in my search for coffee, say) like that?”

And the blacks, I came across the phenonoma I shall describe as the obama black. This is a black engaged in some enjoyable activity seeming as fine as Obama. I had never seen them before. I never knew they existed. All the blacks I’d ever seen recently have been disapointed with Obama precisely because he acts like there is no meaningful problem in minority communities. I am associated with being able to ask a black a question anytime: particularily if I really do have a question about something black, or mixed, or in general, if genuinely confused sometimes, they feel obligated to help out and I have no problem with that kind tendency. But these obama blacks, one can’t just make a time-out sign and interrupt the book they are reading, or whatever enjoyable activity they are engaged in.

The monastic experience was very uplifting and beneficial. When the construction workers showed up to develope their farmstand/cafe and outdoor stage; there was the party of the agriculturalists and the party of the construction workers, and we purposely came together every morning at 6am to discuss the upcoming day. And were equal regarding spiritual conversation in the evening around dinner I believe. It’s just the construction trade is more morally ambiguous, but these people would readily acknowledge that.

Two more points; I felt the grips of both good and evil hiking the appalachian trail; and realized the federal constitution was responsible for slavery and not the southern states. If the constitution allowed slavery, then it must take responsibility for it.

And there is something about the monastic satan-fighting life that has a lot of fear to it. One tries to be fearful so as to have none of the nonsense that interferes with the fight against Satan. And yet there is fear to say what is in the heart. So the point is to overcome fear; but that might lead to more nonsense. I mean they feared bright clothing, bright yellow shirts; and they excercised very little inhibiting nonsense; and yet could they truly liberate themselves with speech. The spectrum between fear and liberation is not a perfect one, by any stretch. And yet those are two such primal qualities. The idea of a beard is not to have fun, but be able to talk about anything, particularily difficult items.

I also like the way the tribe would kill a chicken once or twice a week and shred it up and add to their salads from the fields.  I thought it was superior tasting chicken in a superior form, in salad. But I later learn than they slaughter not chickens, but old hens and old roosters, which I’ve always wondered how tasted, and that that kind of meat, is bested peeled into stringy rope lengths and eaten that way. 

The hope is to be sensible enough to polish down society to the kingdom of god and powerful community understandings. And still have individually competitive spiritual qualities about. That would be the praxis to expanding the number of farms owned by communities, by tens of thousands of people; thus interlocking a market, and labor potential, and exposing urban neighborhoods and suburban towns to the vitality and harmony and necessity of agriculture.

I believe local officials abridge peaceful assembly and that it is logical and natural, a civil right, for localities to make decisions together in peaceful assemblies; I am mystified why this format, as it exists in New England, does not question the educational system and come up with a more sensible economy. Actually that is a fascinating question. Why does the practice of peaceful assembly in New England fail to address the glaring issue of the kingdom of god? Because much of the world exists on paper. In that sense it is two dimensional and controlled by the universe. Thus while New England’s quorums of 236 may demonstrate local propiety; the manifestation of the law goes no further than that: it is so easy to control.  Satan predates the universe and is responsible for the bad of this front of western civilization.

North Carthoginia

May 3, 2010

CHAP 1 When the lord moves one to where most needed
The Sweet and gentle is conceded.

There is darkness and light. The darkness of the universe, the light of heaven and mind.

There may be less than the afterlife, in comparison to physical life. There may be not moving for a long time, just looking and being near the Kingdom of God. Staying still for a long time. That is what souls are in the afterlife, and they are all around.

Life is regulated because life is valuable, by the universe. Even the planting of root, flowering, leafy and fruit bearing vegetables, correspond to being worked when an earth, air, water, or fire sign is nearest to the moon. They call that the biodynamic calendar. It makes a big difference organic growing, and too many people haven’t heard of it.

There is a volatile universe, at least by my senses, and a descanting degree of light, on earth, of mind, and positive energy.

I am not in New Jersey, but the mountains of western north Carolina. I can feel the sensibility of organic growing move the people here; the wind of agrarian society blew here, farther from the business class of New Jersey.

In North Jersey, where I grew organic potatoes, there was a greater Gallic influence upon the people, I refer to, as working with your hands, bipartisan local government, being more respectful of religion and hunters in the background, more Irish people, then the more roman and business influence I pick up in central jersey where I came from and was at for January, February and March.

The Gauls are we all know big stupid slightly evil people with a good heart at bottom; who value people by their number of clients and servants, liberally speaking; and though Rome was greater, they were most feared part of the roman empire by Rome, so Sallust and other writers of the punic wars have said.

But ancient Rome found problems to the south too, in the form of 3 punic wars stemming from the invasion of Sicily by north Africans, in 225bc, necessitating the production of a Roman Navy. For South of Rome was dominated by African influences, and north of Rome by animal fur clad Gauls. Likewise, the gaulic culture is thwarted in America, by the northeast corridor, which to the south of, I firmly believe, the remnants of Carthage and the Numidia Africans, the evidence of the mind of Africa dominates south Eastern America, to deleterious effects; and if we just recognize the traditional and classical cause of this division and domination; we might be able to address it in constructive and forward looking terms.

Because I look at the people in north jersey, and western Carolina and the difference is whether tragedy is behind you or ahead of you. People that have gone through tragedy have no or little hope, and are broken people, and more capable for being broken than the hopeful idealist who has no idea how cruel and unfair the world is; who you wish you could explain that to; whereas one look at the sort with tragedy behind them–means nothing has to be said; tragedy has to be acknowledged, to be cultivated effectively; and everyone should have gone through the tragedy of school, to say nothing of the tragedy of the economic system and the tragedy of love ahead that awaits them.

I am already reaping benefits, for the people I have helped with coriander and radish micro green growing, and algae cleaning, introduced me to a whiskey maker who needs grains from growers with combines- a use of grains that hadn’t occurred to me.

I’d lately assumed, it’s been so hard to explain, I’d always assumed the impediments to knowledge, were variables in the equation of liberation. Really, the metaphysic expressed would signify that there is no one: which gives the right to violate law. So in the stillness where my depth charges of mind go, where the reality of response resounds with mine, a firmness, I seek to get to know. This must connect to society.

It’s been like north carthoginia in that I can see the people here are hooked up to a mind of North Africa, and I am here to help them deal with that. The north Carolina dust, and the stillness of its gods, that may eat the fake society strumming like guitar strings the sentences the mind amounts to these days.
There is an imposition of mind, like in a dream replacing what I know, with what is known about north Carolina. And yet those treacherous Carthaginians have identified every evil Julius Caesar union rude thing as attributable to coffee…and it was only after going off coffee for 3 days….that I was finally able to see staying in character—

Anyway, the good thing about 20 hrs of field work over three days, was that I showed myself I could bang out the work, enjoy and learn from it, and have no issues with the physical quality of it. I missed it, since the fall, and had been needing to do it. It is an important part of my orientation and perspective, in that the same way the Lord may assume two people can not get along, in his rendition of the world, through the new York times, say; because the assumption is the kingdom of god acts the way the article is written, when really that includes a great assumption that two people can not get along to the extent the situation exists they write about involving two people in the world today; the implicit assumption is also that two people, or everyone involved in the newspapers description of the world do not and have not given a hoot about where there food comes from, in the degree about actively caring about such a procurement in that food is the most important thing. So there is a war on bad, that agriculture wages, whose perspective must be seen, to fight effectively. In the end, my politics is to end the bull, and create food production as a viable and sensible part of the common values of a simplified society through free assembly.

The down side was that I made no money. The farm I volunteered at was not a money making joint. It was more a field and a store than a farm. It was a second year operation involving a store by the road. I would say this chapter is no longer sweet and gentle, but in those mountains, the lord seemed to have moved me to where I was most needed.

Because we all know it is unfair not everyone works a bit in agriculture, and I hope we understand this situation exists within the Kingdom of God, and the real situation and care is the oppression of earth by the universe; though surely, would I hear the hope or treachery signifying some equaling of the means that created this situation, with the means to remedy and rectify the situation. Within the context of The Kingdom of God, there is a vital link between spirituality and religion, and organic growing and agriculture. The vitality of such production, like the Indians, are primordial enough to be required towards social and political change based on the apprehension of the kingdom of god, and of such being caused by the universe; for in the face of the kingdom of god, voting, as such representative republics require has little translation towards the kingdom of god, in that the kingdom of god does not vote. What votes is the creation of society, the whims of our creator creates our elected victors; imposes western society upon itself and me, and requires the Kingdom of God to be used as if human, as opposed to human being. And what is that being compared to my being?

On the other hand, this perspective I have, so necessary an attitude for the trade and marketing and producing in general; which requires a spiritual attention and diligence, to reconcile the work required, with the unfairness of some capitalistic propositions; this was missing. I had hoped to deal this year with people of this trade concerned about my same industry cares; rather than the struggling to make it with this perspective of economic analysis. And I got no money. And I understand how sometimes agricultural help is volunteer, and payment coupled to revenues, and experience. A farm is like a girl, not so easy as they may be slandered.

Though not a serious backdrop, western civilization, at times seems the sum of one soul not liking me, operating heaven’s apparatus and command of western civilization; as western civilization may be seen as controlled by the gods, if there are any, to instances that may please the gods. But it starts from the ability to work harder, as well as separate the ego from the god apparatus.

Because it is quite natural for people to come together and produce food. That we don’t have such common occurrence and propitious dialogue; that is the main issue; not class war. I can feel my mind where it is assumed people don’t care about agriculture, daily, as it may be; and it is near where I feel the assumption two people can’t get along enemating from the press; which literally feels at times like something pressing upon the mind, creating the confusion necessary to confuse representation and the kingdom of god.

The issue is much deeper and heavier; the oppression of the human race on earth by the universe. This serious issue would be foremost in discussions of free assembly, and ideally within the conduct of agriculture. I climbed to the peak of Whiteside mountain, from which I could see 150 miles to southwest Mt Springer where the southern end of the Appalachian trail is. It was quite a tiny far off triangle, popping up as the last of the fewer and more distant mountains still popping up, like the rumples and folds that petered into the piedmont they still manage to pop out of south Carolina and Georgia. Having done over 300 miles of the Appalachian trail, this was quite a sight to see. I had no idea we were so close to the southern end of the Appalachians.

Yet I noted further proof of the Carthaginian substance to the ruling mind here, in the two dollar trail use fee, based on parking the car, because I hadn’t seen that recently. Because national forests, maybe this is a park, are important to all and for all, money should not be a contingent to embrace common areas where logically, common values are most.

Though at some level, the souls in heaven do not care about things like the rude building in these southern Appalachians, that disturb the trails and wildlife through North Carolina’s beautiful valleys between mountains of peaks of 4000 feet; because such disturbance pales before the more serious disturbance transforming the human to human being; Yet I must inquire to the more serious sorts as to who approves such building. Because if it is approved by local officials, they exercise powers reserved for the state or the people. And if the destruction of mountain side is approved by the state, that may be within the grounds of the tenth amendment; yet by reserving powers to the state or the people, the legal framework is set up for the structural debate monitoring decision-making of whether decisions should be made by the people, in free assembly, or the state; as the state may view the good of the land as a whole, and the people of a town, the issue in a more isolated perspective. So if the state approved the destruction of forest and field, for a product, homes, essentially tied to population growth, as opposed to providing better things for the population at the number it is now; while these recreational communities make the claim they are part time seasonal homes, time share vacationals; each house offers the option for year round residency; and thus the housing boom can be matched by a housing glut, or population growth. Yet as the reproduction of The Kingdom of God is realizes, in contradiction of what our press and western society creates, so the decrease in societal want to reproduce. The mores from such examples, perhaps the way Jesus suggested a human to society, may decrease population, and this is a very important component to consider, because hitherto for we have been considering heaven as being controlling of western civilization, to not a good end, for a long time, and I feel the universe has say in this as well; So my influence, or the education that contradicts the media, may be a competing influence on the important issue of population. Yet could this influence, seriousness, extend against the battle against night.

Chap 2 North Carthoginia

One thing I apprehended from helping this lady at 3600 feet was that few people can work this hard. It is almost as if I, God, and the Gauls, the Romans, and those under the Carthaginian spell, work side by side, be broken accordingly, so as to grow together character work requires. On the one hand, it was a small operation, a little land to supply a small store by the side of the road, so it was less work than I would have done by my own organic growing business, because my market would have been greater than hers, and yet the 20 hours, 7.5 Wednesday, then only 3.5 Thursday as it rained smiling on the potato planting of the day before, and then a fast 6 on Fri., followed by the hike, and then a little helping including moving a cooler from town to the store, on Saturday, this was a lot of hard work; what with all the lies of western civ and the capitalistic market, and the huge propagation of reproduction rather than food; all this includes a misapprehension of the lack of hard work we are capable off, over time; this work ethic must be built up together and seen as a compelling reality to strive for, rather than ignored as parcel to some societal reckoning, or hope of dealing with the situation. There is a psychological complexity to my working hard; then other organic growing operations tend inward, and not outward, as truth, in face of appearance, fear exposure. There might not be the looking for work, where other workers are involved, for though workers may last a few days alongside me, they are often not hired on a short term basis, the way I did, in my organic growing operation: too often they are long term at the farm. And integrity and genuine success go hand in hand. I liken the hours in the fields to innings a pitcher may pitch, more than six innings, but such is hard, and requires rhythm, a groove, a psyche job, a comfortable feeling, the ability to slog through some hard minutes, some care of fluid and food, rest and mental relaxation.

I just also want to say, it is the state legislatures designed to help us, the federal government is outdated, and yet state government’s structure must be reconsidered in the glaring light that the kingdom of god does not vote, and the kingdom of god is the population. Western Civ, the power of heaven determines those things. And she has been weighted to sack America with destruction of natural resources, in ignorance of future generations; and though the constitution is without spiritual guideposts, the light of the spiritual signs, James Madison calls the federal constitution blessed, and though the structure of federal government is weighed against production, in representatives who didn’t produce, in forbidding economic alliances between states, and bills of credit, which would be more refined and naturally sustaining trade; Alexander Hamilton, seemed not to have looked at the legacy of Lycurgus who banned currency of silver and gold, and created a 800 year state, even while he cites numerous classical examples of strong federacy’s being required to maintain peace. So it would seem the federal government has allowed the corruptions of local government structure, and allowed the more uncaring hand of ancient minds to prevail rather than minds truer to the land of the nation; which though pale compared to the universe, is still logical dialogue.

It though is very sad, when I see, in good people, their good feelings, held back, because they are a little bit richer and confuse the class war, with the battle I, and spiritual structures, are fighting. We are talking about the deprivation of human life from the body, of being a tiny planet treated poorly by the universe, and not taking someone’s wealth. There is so much absence, to be fooled by or go along with, the deception; should not entail the confusion of the possible tension between the anti-rich and the rich, with the assertion of the kingdom of god, and spirituality, and the ignorance of such potential by media. The former cuts across the grain of each other, while the latter, is truth, and need not be complicated by rich versus poor visions and structures.

As you know I have been trying to move from farm to farm this year, and such needs momentum, and the going is always hardest in the beginning; but one interesting thing about my culture, is that often there are the lads, of Irish mothers, that help me a bit on the farm, or get to know me, or being locals, look out for me; and their mothers may think it all an encroachment on their family, me being far out of the peer group; yet here in this new situation near the eastern continental divide, at 3600 feet, near a saw mill, and new houses cut into hills, and the highest altitude lake of its size east of the Mississippi, in a dry town, (and dry towns should have a sign near them symbolizing such)…well this lady and her lady friends who help her, they are much more like the mothers of Irish lads, than Irish lads themselves.

I also couldn’t help noticing at the place I stayed in Asheville, and at the store through which produce from the field should be distributed; is that both places had old fixed orange vacuum cleaners that seemed from the sixties, but worked fine.

I also feel these overtones of class war I come across….I am used to the snobbery of the married, to someone like me who is not; and the snobbery of the influence of all one party democratic towns in N.J., but not to the ones of construction, or class war, these are too sophisticated and harmonic, and that these are here, demonstrate a direct influence of the press promulgation of western civilization directly mixing into understandings, including racial understandings, whose confusions unhinge society in a way indicating some Carthaginian control, seeking to maintain its dominance through the petty disturbance and terrorism of more unsafe situations. Apparently, as the rugged folds of the Appalachian mountains were caused by a plate shift from Africa this way; so the prescience here of minorities seem more like occupying soldiers, at times, than people supposed to solve American problems, through society facility; so it is important when Minorities firmly identify the ills of America, for often Americans, while feigning to suffer America, fail to point out the obvious defects; the obfuscation of the human being, the lack of free assembly and community empowering; the poor TV, the greater diet. The regulation whites never discuss.

I can feel the press, literally like a gate closing and pushing something back along my mind, whose disturbance creates the chaos necessary to generate the lies and confusion the gods of western civilization, to degrees and tones…the issue is whether these gods care at all, and whether they are a few by contract controlling everyone, or of consensuses by the many in heaven. Likewise, does the experience in heaven over eternity evolve, or devolve, be quite less and essential, Spartan and simple.

This gate seems to swing directly along the pivotal assumption people can’t get along, and in there, the assumption people can’t care about their food production as the natural logical focus it naturally should be. Though I still hear the wind blow, that that which lies, should take time to tell the truth; though that may be a deceptive wind.

Likewise, in this double edged wind, while I went for days without coffee for the first time, and learned drinking coffee without milk reduces the quantity intaken, there is an eversoslight lack of coffee society among some elements of my society. The hard working side of gaulic necessity for coffee; you can always agree with any party where both senses of humor overlap, in the agreement that there are greater concerns, and that coffee drinkers can see eye to eye from coffee. Carthage, is a little difference. Had a different code. People aren’t allowed to work hard, because it might cootie them, or help them relate essentially. There is a sense of humor here, but it is from the outskirts of society, but it’s not the traditional coffee drinking outskirts, if their ever was one.

Chap 2 North Carthoginia

I recognize the health and wholesomeness of my venture of the past 5 yrs in organic growing in northwest N.J.. There is less of the lightness of being, and vigorous essential, thanks to the therapeutic work of agriculture. Even though its concern, learning and work has kept me there for years, so I can not travel and hike as I like to, there’s been a lot of negative shit it has protected me from. I mean there were crazy hippies at times helping me on the farm. But by and large, everything was very in order, private and organized. Though it gave me little time for anything but agriculture.

See I am for the ideals of agriculture, and argued for local decisions being made in local free assemblies in federal court, somehow this is a very embracing homily; yet why haven’t these efforts been covered in the press I wonder to myself. For the press may acknowledge my efforts of integrity and say “Vic Fedorov fought in federal court for communities making decisions in free assemblies, got no press coverage, and went into agriculture in concert with his belief free assemblies would lead to a more agrarian society.”

But then, may not the reader say, “But why didn’t you cover his suit against his home town? What possible interest could a myriad of journalists and reporters have in suppressing the law of free assembly, and law of reserving powers to the state or people, and the natural law of communities making decisions together?”
And this I thought about for a long time, “To what can we attribute the suppression of this viable and educational news story till now?” Then I realized it is because this story contradicts the implicit assumption by the press that the people can not get along. The press does not believe the people really could and would come together to figure out how to live together in society. This is what can hold people back. The notion of two people not being able to get along, is contradicted by the notion of communities making joint decisions with ayes and nays in free assemblies, as has been done in many places in history in the past, some towns in N.J. did this into the 1900’s. Thus the press will never be comfortable with my story until they become comfortable with the idea the people can make decisions together, and more. There is no fundamental irritant or principle keeping people apart. It is just society is restricted. It is ironic that as you apprehend that people may make decisions together in a circle, you start to apprehend the reservations of the people by God, and how limited they are.

So why is the press so hung up about understanding people can get along, which would then illuminate the false mechanism? It is that the components of the universe, which is harsh enough to cause the Kingdom of God, do not like each other, have trouble working with each other. Thus while it might be real easy for me to imagine one person understanding what I say about Free Assembly and the Kingdom of God, and quickly round up some people who quickly understand this too; it is difficult to imagine the universe getting along in great degree, though I imagine that is a game plan, somehow the press works within that amalgamation, and there might be translation between people getting along in this construct, and corresponding effects upon the darkness I imagine all about nearby.

There have been several perspectives no longer being my own small businessman has oddly offered. Such as this latest one, which is that as I bounce or try to bounce around farms in west Carolina hills, in an aging red pick up truck, and realize there are some professional structures to agriculture that I feel contradict my experience. Such that I have found single people to be better workers than couples, yet many farms are family farms. Likewise I have found short term workers to be better than long term workers, because the work is hard enough to cause a hard burnout. And yet most farms seek long term helpers, whereas I would hire and house short term workers by marketing it as therapeutic and beneficial to my friends; as well as to traveling hippies, as order and stability for a while. So maybe I compensated for this by seriously extending myself into the social world, morally exposing organics to as many people as possible, and providing community with a much needed farm.

Never the less, I feel I may expose falsehoods and truths, and most of the world, any small businessperson knows, operates in a secrecy that allows these blurring of appearance and truth to come together in the distribution of the reality of production amenable to heaven, consumable, theoretically, by people. Nevertheless this secrecy does not want to conform to my light easily, so the reality of finding work, even more clearly now, is consistent with the reality of marketing. The market, like voters, do not really exist, same as finding real work situations is not as easy as it looks, though I am sure I can get the hang of it, because everything is fake, and this fakeness to our economy has long restricted me; but for the first time I see it as restricting my friends and absolving them from situations I see now as fake and created as the same quasi reality I seek to find work in. Hopefully this pivot will help me relate to my friends, and help me gain freedom.

OMG The Brits Are Here too

What are they doing here? Pursuing freedom from the Carthaginians, or deserters to their treacherous and rude lives.?

My class in N.C. is not hooked on coffee, occasional ice cream, hiking, and rising early. Indeed, I am having trouble staying up that late, as they can be up to time I would consider an ideal rising hour.

Carolina has valleys; it is not the peaks we stare at from the ridges, but the valleys; huge valleys with rumples and folds in them; just vast valleys, the likes of which I’ve never seen. Being able to catch up on my hiking deficiency means a lot.

Of course I hiked on earth day, being unaware of the huge celebration with beer and everything on the big Asheville Park for this sort of thing. I would call earth day, air day; respect the air around you, the earth is too big, just be conscious of the air you breathe; don’t talk to each other without first paying your respects to the air.

Of course ironically classical societies had holidays worshipping every planet. Such is the lack of vanity to tragedy.

It is much better to negotiate with me, that try without me.

I define learning as coming across something I didn’t know.

How come there are lions and tigers and cardinals, and cougars and bears, and bulldogs but never the apes? How come there has never been the Houston apes? Or for that matter, the Cincinnati chimps, or Boston Gorillas, or Minnesota Monkeys? What is up with that? Is the ape, which we are all from, (I know some of you think we came from bears)(Or joined the earth after some near-apes moved north, from another earth that was older) an improvement upon other animals as to justify selective use of as a mascot.?

I will tell you why there is no team called the apes; because we are all still part ape. Think about it, an ape may have some human qualities, and a human may have some ape qualities. And the first thing apes would do if they found themselves here, would be to come together to figure out what to do. But somehow, we are higher more evolved than apes, and therefore don’t need to come together to talk about what to do.

And this is because as we moved past ape, earth with humans on it made the universe jealous, and controlled human life so to the level of the kingdom of god. So that is why humans don’t come together. But if are apes, maybe we can. That is why I am starting a team called the Apes, or The Ape Team, not the A-Team, good a show as that was, but The Ape-Team, and I already have some characters signed on. Whoever we are, we go around doing whatever we do, standing for Apes, and making people cheer Apes, and identify with being apes.

I wonder about how the universe controls this situation. Is it out of precise regulation, or destructive chaos. Life may be regulated by the stars, but what of the regulation of Human life.

I see the universe, the black, and it can’t perceive earth, the material world, it can’t see and sense, yet it can perceive my perceiving it; it can perceive perception, even while it can’t sense the material world as finely as we do.

And it is in the blood that goes to my eyes, some amalgamation of universe and souls about in my mind, sharing my body to represent the kingdom of god as humans. So in some ways I live in an unholy world, because it would be much more natural and holy to honestly live on earth as it is; including an apprehension of the form and powers and sustenance of the souls in the kingdom of heaven as well. Once I realized so much was in my eye, everything simplified, but I still struggle to apprehend how much may subsist on my mind, how light and refined soul perception may be, but how the point of a needle the soul may be, and as a drifting red spot across my forehead, how is all that context of emotion, and relegation into appearance, rather than truth; yet even in truth there is the latching on of souls I feel souring my squints and wrinkling me tired around the corners of the eyes, whispering things that unsettle and not sense to make me sleep from my stealthy inquiry.

Another idea that helped is the conception that there is something like the form of TV in my mind. My thoughts may be specifically broadcast to individual or group receptors in the afterlife, imagine a structure that can focus on a thought in my mind, and with razor like wires of mind run it down to other conduits though the air of united mind to be transported like mail to its reception.

Then I learned of the charge and seriousness required by the afterlife in whatever amalgamation with the universe, required to represent western civilization’s myriad of appearances, as well as create the fine system of mind TV, I embarrassedly star in. The representation is very unfair, and it takes a charge of seriousness to do it, as it is the shocking fear of perceiving one’s own movement of the kingdom of god to announce on the news the most serious tones of disaster, the souls enact.

Then I contemplate how if there are many earths with similar history of impression, and how hard it is for a rock to be near the sun, maybe an oppressed earth or several, planned out our earth, hung around through evolution, started doing western civilization, and in return for prematurely destroying the earth, would get another earth that wouldn’t be oppressed into the kingdom of god.

So obviously sometimes talking about his stuff is good; I require inquiring minds about; people who acknowledge the air as everyday is air day.

The Irish are the gaulic cohorts and friends, and its not the alcohol, it’s a disposition to be controlled, rather than alcohol itself. It’s time we stopped blaming alcohol, and blame people’s disposition; came up with the psychological props, and explained the moral complexity, that can create the attitudes necessary to work hard, and not be abused through alcohol. Because it seems much is weighted inherently against us, and therefore alcohol is one more thing to master. Yet what would it be that would gratify the devil, what other condition can be claimed? Then there wouldn’t be the Irish, who loosen the door so we can all get in; there wouldn’t be the pivot from which the British may potentially rise. Because for all the Irish, north Carolina, seems under a British influence.

But you see, the one thing you have to know about the brats, though there are several, is that they are the ultimate nation to go from a Queen to a republic of united representatives. I’m one of those people who like the Queen, as well as the concept of Queens. By instilling so much authority in one particular figure hood, in the context that having one person so much better than everybody else that they may aspire to rule them, is so ridiculous that, I far prefer the ridiculous nature of monarchy (no harm intended, just trying to explain it to the people); to the investiture of power to the more serious apparatus of the hundreds in federal and state government. Because, and this is the one thing the Brits need to know, though they need to know several, is that they can achieve what they want by deceiving the queen. (how DC stands for deception), but there is way too much government structure today to deceive the government. Deception is as simple as knowing there is the kingdom of god, so going to get free and needed goods, without your matronly neighbor knowing. That is the key, the nearest matronly person, might not have to be in on the operation; others not knowing, is the indirect secret to the success of deception and acquisition. But this art has been lost on the Brits in modern day America. The Brits went from a deceptive people, to a people who condone modern society without the courage to change it, because government is so big and real, (even though by the kingdom of god, it does not really exist) and yet it’s existence obscures the kingdom of god to a degree that takes away our faith in deception. How did Jesus not die after all? but by deceiving the public on the outskirts of Rome.

You voice your displeasure of stupid society, and try to change the world, and the Brits are scared to acknowledge their own dissatisfaction. And it’s not them, it’s this TV thing that is scared to recognize the seriousness and unfairness of its perpetration, that controls everyone in their representation of the world, and so permeates with fear of looking at itself in the mirror, which the exhibition of truth per se does; that holds the Brits in fear of their own opinion.

For I have been to Britain. Though it took me most of 4 decades, I finally did, expecting to unite the British people behind my concerns; yet they were scared, and reflected their loyalty to queen and system, which I now see as simply horridly consistent with the intentions of the press and media. Whereas in Germany, they are a little more revealing of the kingdom of god, and in step to a point of strategic contemplation.

For I do expect serious company. For instance we all should in a group be able to realize that the reservation of powers to the state or the people and the abridgement of free assembly by local officials, renders every approval of a building by local officials illegal; and shows the subjugation of community agenda by local officials. In serious group discussion, this should be apprehend able. Yet this is hard to apprehend. It is recognizable, but the very drain of mine to yours, makes you unable to manifest the vision of these laws, because it is posited against me fundamentally.

And so what of even greater issues? Can we be adult enough to discuss in a group how marriage is about reproduction, and we don’t want to reproduce the kingdom of god, and such energy may work against the energies we have.

As I have implied, I feel I am up against TV. Like Rome, as the station of its empire; yet more so, Julius Caesar was never up against TV’s nefarious control; even though in some way it was, destined, so—and the ultimate design is to calm, and unite, establish peace. Some can only sense my efforts; a few, may be disturbed by them. But when people just stand by the system I criticize, they are not acting in the interests of their identity, but the interests of the system. Self-interest is what is offered. It also helps to imagine the community making a decision together in free assembly; there you see the forgiving context of absence.

But what Caesar did, unify an empire so large it was coming apart at its scenes with generals warring each other with troops on plunders dime; but after Julius there were a dozen reigns of emperors, before Julius, there were chief executives who served a year at a time.

What is the difference between j.c., Julius, and jc, Jesus? Julius Caesar could be teased? America is a bit polarized, people coming from a liberal perspective, which essentially comes from the press; and conservative Christian which seems to share a sense of life and death survival.

All I can do is remark from my scattered notes. The second farm I worked was positive and orderly and constructive, in the gentler rolling plains of more eastern Carolina, with less hippies and more country sorts, than Asheville.

Then I did the Appalachian trail, which is hardest in North Carolina. I ended up going 15 miles southwest to Tennessee, thinking I was heading north to hot springs, because it was so overcast, that I did the last 9 miles in a warm rain, and the last 2 miles in darkness or night.

Then, looking for a hostel in the dark rainy night on a dirt road, I had heard about, I ignored signs and went the wrong way, luckily flagging down a car headed to the hostel—where I slept in a small dry room near a kennel— Then, though the next day was sunny and I was glad to discover the peak views I had missed in the rain. Essentially I backpacked from Max Patch a 4300 clear-cut and maintained top of a mountain stretching many endless acres in beauty with beautiful panoramic scenes; to Snowbird, which while to the South West, was difficult to establish as more to the west or more to the south, as the trail is following the south westerly Tennessee/North Carolina border and cuts west to Tennessee over Snowbird, which then has the steepest difference between peak and valley, on the trail, I know—because the valley separates these Appalachians from the Smokiest, and the hiker hostel is within 400 yards of the trail, but I went the wrong way; so to the west the smokies loom, and the trail heads south west right into them, to bisect the smokies for 60 miles then cut due South to Springer Mountain in Ga, so when I told the lady in the car looking at me with a tarp over my head, and a poodle who being pack stock is not allowed in The Smokies, that I thought I was nearer Hot Springs in Tennessee and we jointly put it together I had hiked the wrong way….I cringed in humiliation.

But even the next day, since I got into the hiker hostel at night in car in rain, I went out to the trail the wrong way, about 2 miles of unnecessarily lugging a pack around Tennessee dirt roads, looking at the smokies overhead, so in the valley of the sun, I couldn’t figure north v south again.

So I pointedly made a point to really track the movement of the path between the ripples and folds of the mountains; which can only be done by running back the way I came in. And really studied the movement of the trail. And it got really interesting after the 4 hour ascent up Snow Bird, to see the way the trail goes back to Max Patch.

That night though drizzled enough to hustle me from my campsite off the trail, to a shelter, which I didn’t require, but felt better lying near to. I had camped a mere quarter mile from the shelter and already collected water from its spring of groundhog creek.

However in the morning, after the thru hikers left at 7am before the sun, it started raining harder, and while a mere 7 miles from Max Patch, I figured if I hiked there in the rain, and no one was there to give me a ride back, for it is quite a place for views and picnics, all my clothes would be wet, a shelter would be 2 miles beyond it, and I preferred to stay dry in the now empty shelter, and wait for the skies to clear—and in the interim of more gentle mists, hiked the path along ground hog Creek, clearing the many fallen trees on the path as I could, and getting them off a rhodadendum bush, as there were many rhodadendums: nice doing the side trail without the pack. The back pack is a different sensation than a day hike. I found it painful and difficult. More like Jesus in the desert 40 days, than a party—yet as the shelter filled up with thru hikers, I confirmed, amid the social gossip that this was a party—and shelters are for rest and relaxation—and I had picked up a lot of litter—and they hadn’t told me which direction I was going, or that my back pack had a waterproof coat fitting out of it—or how to hoist the food bag, that I did not have, up a steel wire to keep it from bears—or how important a compass is, and a watch—never had alcohol or worse—-I wanted total silence, and the silence was respected—for the spectacle of doing 2200 miles in 3-4 months was revealed, as another corruption in an institution designed to do good—-so the truth comes to, as a critical mass is pushed.

These police efforts of mine, remind me I am a good person. Obama came to Asheville, the head of the American empire, and I heard his voice like the lord waft to me, “You are good Vic, stop being so gaullish.”

Not to rant, but they are not concerned about food enough. Though they can be. And why would all the side trails and state parks be empty when I try them, and yet 50 others be between the smokies and max patch. Who can take 90 days off. Nor is it enough you could pay me to. And you have to hike back, and no one hangs out at the proverbial watering hole by the shelters laughing at those indoors business.

The Cherokee influence picks up to. They are a separate nation. Latin Allies, not Latin Kings, people from this hemisphere working to together to make a better world; like allies.

This is my theory. We are all from Apes. The Africans came first. The universe took over, mating the kingdom of god; and the Africans, who reached the afterlife first offered up humans in the orient as Kingdom of God civilized practices. Then some escaped over the Bering straits and came down into north and south America, altering slightly to become more Indian like—and as they came down into the wilds of central south America they discovered blacks descended from apes, as we all are from the equator, and the Indians or whatever they called themselves, killed or sent off in boats to Africa all the blacks in south America in penance for their creation in the orient.

So it is not the whites and Orientals against the blacks and souther Americans , but Indians and whites against blacks and Orientals. This should be the basis of our relation with the Cherokee nation. But I get the impression all the Indian tribes are variations of what I call, Williams. Williams is the rival school of Amherst. They are like Amherst’s challenged older brother, which can manifest itself irresolutely.

One seeks a mature society that can discuss the legal intention of people deciding how they live in free assemblies, and also capable of discussing how relationships are manipulations of reproduction involved in obscuring the kingdom of god. Hiking the mountains, one realizes the world is really more the other way, a show of heaven, how they lie I do not know, there must be some mechanism like a limb that allows them to falsely do the show of the world, without there being anything or much, beyond it. People do what they do. There is not necessarily thinking or psychology behind it. So the thru hikers may be physically fitted, but not psychologically adept enough to adjust to other hikers, beyond a competitive and socially competitive form. It’s a little like the lack of thinking bad sports are pervaded by. It’s a tight Indian like control in its minimalism of incorporating apprehensions of the world and truth.

I had a wonderful send-off Friday night by dear people from Asheville, very comic and endeavoring, but comfortable and inquiring as well. Yet as I passed people on the trail, they would all say hi, and I would wave. They didn’t understand waving. Where they are from, they have no waving. So right away that set the tension causing my mishaps. They all have trail names, nom de guerres like the rainbows who believe pot is a sacrament, and really are against the government, and stupid society, and an intricate complex society extending well past regional rainbow gatherings—or like the mob in a classy yet poor way, nicknames each other, but they do that so they don’t reveal their real names—I don’t get why you would proudly demonstrate your own name—-Like when people post anonymously remarks after articles in internet publications, I never understood why they wouldn’t sign their own name, out of pride, and ownership. No system of imparting vital information such as weather info. Not enough rain gear on my part. But the trusty 8×10 tarp I got for 6 bucks and the super small powerful lightweight flashlight I got for nine dollars, really shone through and protected me and my pack from rain and night, and my dog, was a good guide too. Good athletes make what they do attractive. I am going to have to test out backpacking on the solitary other trails, and get a rip in the harness fixed, because it was no picnic, or disco or physically reverberation cheering me up like my day hikes—lordy, and how can some of those people do it, packs bigger than them. No staring endlessly from peaks, and people resting and relaxing in the trees on the side of the trail, no clean boulders to sit on they way they are north of here, because the ice age didn’t push the boulders this far south. Spandex and ski poles, since when did hiking become skiing. Everyone had ski poles. I had a dog. Thru hikers are up at the crack of dawn when it is most cold. Then again, farms are not having short term workers so easily, because everything is in show, and this world may be doomed to failure because a better earth farther off in the universe may be dealt for to gain as guaranteed to not be transformed into the kingdom of god. And yet that deal is hard to guarantee, in that the malevolence of the hurt force altering, seems to fail to be sensible, though I strive to identify it, it may be precise, who knows its collusion with heaven and the transformations of existence that may occur under time, in those removed domains of existence.

Like an inspector of farms and trails, I go, who does it better? In an age where capitalism obscures the kingdom of god, what psychology has evolved, or gotten stuck?

So I spent the day, first in the shelter, as it filled up, sleeping 6 rather tightly and one at the foot on the ground, and wet hikers coming into the early night, forced to put up tents in the rain. Some hikers though had a sense of humor, teasing the afternoon snooze club of hikers enjoying not hiking and hiking on to Max patch all jolly in the rain with their rain gear so handy. But most hunkered down, and in the morning, I felt really good, things were clearing, I had a relaxing puttering about and thinking as I got up early and drank lots of water, and had positive interactions, limited, baked, and the transformed offense was rolling.

However, much as I enjoyed hiking on the rest and tracking through the growing mist the mountains off the twisting trail, it soon rained, then sleeted, hailed, sunned, and snowed, in consistent succession after 11 as I got into Max Patch hiked a trail around it looking for a ride, climbing to the top as the sun blew the clouds away and I could see what I thought was Snow Bird. But then the sleet, wind and snow came swiftly blowing and all I could was wrap my Indian blanket around all the clothes I had on, then covered everything except my head with tarp, like a toga of a roman patrician senator, and walked off into the forest road hoping to hitch a car, staying warm moving, the road ran down hill slowly twisting and the sun came out and rain stopped, then it went intermittent rain and overcast and I went 10 miles, and only one car passed and it didn’t stop by me, till a second pick up came by, a hunter with turkey in back, my dog and climbed in the pick up part and drove 15 miles on the longest forest rd I ever saw, as the skies started to darken with night, and a fierce hard rain brewed, compelling the hunter to take me to hot springs, out of his way, gracefully. Praise the Lord, and we agreed politically as we talked in the cab out of the rain in the pick up, about the unnecessary quality about the federal government. I gotta say, I prefer the simple conservative Christian, to the compelling liberal.

Socially you want strong agriculture people in the background, and a society that understands the integrity of working with your hands, knowing a trade, producing.

I don’t see how all the pins of needles can write or what is most in my head, or what there is next to learn and ascertain.

Each of the individuals of The British mind needs to understand that each of them does not care in the state, of N.J., or Carolina, say falls. It is the state that cares. Likewise, there is no danger to any of them that something bad is going to happen to them, for aiding me, and those that benefit. The danger felt is to the state, which feels the pressure from other states to maintain themselves. British mind-controlled individuals have problems with this. Because they are supposed to simply not tell the queen they have been allowed by other people to get groceries without paying.

The pretext for this invasion into north carthoginia, has been helping organic growers/farms, and learning new things about the trade I’ve sought and practiced. And try to discuss market difficulties, realities and salvation; and compensate and aid people in helping their farm, even as planning out labor, with this rare a labor market of agriculture, is very difficult, given the harder nature of this type of trade as well. Yet, importantly, when farms are bought, the nature of the trade is more that all share a concern in the production of food that is natural and vital, rather than a couple or one or a few people attempt to take on that magnitude of responsibility, and correspondingly, are beaten by unwise expanding population.

It would seem I only start to learn something, after I have been hurt by ignoring it, and that 2 plus 2 is never as simple as 2 plus 2, yet indistinguishably is as simple as 2 plus 2. I say this because I am learning that finding farms to help, can be as difficult as marketing fresh vegetables, to locals, or restaurants. Small business is often a show, a front; and includes the labor/production end, as well as the production/marketing end. Yet as I grow more successful in concretely helping out farms, my karma builds, in this vision and endeavor, and I get the hang of making farm owners feel good about getting involved with me a few days.
Because it is obvious I am serious about the agricultural vision; which involves discussing deep issues, such as what can get more farmland worked, and what does it take to guarantee sales to the more immediate public and area? And isn’t God in charge of the world? And these are issues beyond people who are not conscientious. The same way buying local organic produce is reserved for the more conscientious consumers and chefs. This bar, between production, and the world, the front, of society—doesn’t want to get real, as society and business demand, but maintain a front.

And for a long time, I understood the Kingdom of Heaven as regulating western civilization. Now I see that regulation and control coming from the amalgamation of the physical, the sentience, the afterlife and the after of the universe, deep within its recesses. Whereas I thought western civilization, appearance, was ruled by the kingdom of heaven, whereby, in return, some leverage be gained; now I see the control of life, quite a precise operation, out of a comprise between here and deep beyond the skies.

The kingdom of god, each therein, is like a planet. Indeed, the kingdom of man is filled with speech that sounds as if it comes from a planet, alive, with less sentient consciousness, hovering, rotating, fine. And what the totality of this representation of planet does, in successive effect, I felt the gay heat of mercury, the cloudy perimeter upon my mind of Venus, the green earth beneath, the warlike mars, like a bad omen, and like mercury in its gay irradiation, befitting the disrespect of reproduction, and the majesty of Jupiter, in my pituitary gland no less, and the rings of Saturn, softly sensible and light greenish, and Neptune forcibly holding the hand of the winds, off the sea, the fortune and failure that comes before western civ. And Uranus, signifying the soul in the anus, the attachment to me of souls to manipulate the world of appearance. And the furthest planet, Pluto, aka Hades, the god of the underworld, signifying the dealings with the universe farther back in the universe, and the rule of death upon everything in the universe of death, but death that does not preclude consciousness. Perhaps more “afterlife“, than “death”.
So no longer do I meditate on the souls living next to me. I know they are controlled or regulated by forces deep within the universe. So I meditate on the far away controlling the near; and it seems true; concentrating on something close that is controlled by something afar, describes what I have long felt. This explains how there can be lying, reproducing; a strict universe orders it, and we don’t have much of a say in it.

Of course in the old days of classical times, the planets were worshiped, astrology had meaning, and out spirituality wasn’t so limited to just earth and what of it, but the vast expanse beyond the sky, the floating balls nearest to us, and how the harmony of the stars went as we ascribe.

And there are things sucking on me, in my heart, in my blood, souls that show up in my closed eyes as red blobs of light, permeating me, the merger of afterlife, Noemi chemical, and my physical; and this sucking sensation in several places, possible through several entries into me, provides the substance for the recreation of the world of appearance. Though maybe so precise and direct is the regulation of life, I feel the suction is taking what it needs, expresses tears on my shoulder and head from the sky, for such siphoning, but the pattern of afterlife seems to be taking what it needs to survive; a sobering, perhaps limited, experience, perhaps contingent upon the appearance of western civilization.

And yet it is easier to imagine living in the kingdom of god, then interacting with all the farms I try to set up. And yet literally this crime upon me, its very suction by nature does not want to cease. It is taking me and projecting me; like a small pin point of me expanded, so consciousness not in the western civilization in my left ear, can align its creation with what my mind hears.

But I think of the consciousness of planets, and how the kingdom of god, is like a planet, and how that effects positive terms, and how the kingdom of god, may be a negative term, really “the human being” compares favorably to the planet, and the whole must be put in positive terms, for compared to the universe, the human being is way better; thus we must not see it as a negative; but focus on the universe, and its angst, and precision, or organization; rather than those regulatory effects.

I don’t know if the form of the afterlife changes from time to time. I’m really not fresh from Gaul trying to help the empire in north Africa, I grew crops I sold in North Jersey—-and that lifestyle there, while austere and Spartan, was very simple and regulated and comfortable, even if there was a lot of work and hustle and not enough time—I still had a couple hours a day, to think by the pond, undisturbed; many days there was just me, and if I had engaged a helper, social life was either an early bed, or sitting around a fire by the pond in the early night.
 
Out here in the desert, I am not in control of my regimen. I am at the whims of farms I help, friends who let me stay with them, and trails I hike. Finally having a house to house sit has given me some privacy and reminded me how used to I am to being alone and not getting out and living privately, quietly and thoughtfully alone, praise the lord.
 
There is a specific law violated in our empire, which is the practice of people coming together to ascertain and decide issues locally. The first, tenth and 14th amendment is violated. And God allows that. He is into the representation of western civ, and it gets little farther than that. He creates the people, He lets me know it is near a farce. And this amalgamation of afterlife, in government with forces of the universe of death or not, violates the bill of rights. And yesterday I imagined it as being on everyone’s head.
 
And today I imagined souls seeping into me brain, body and mind. Red spots in my mind, I saw them as. And then I realized, it is just a really old mind, an old clear mind, joined together, from which one old one descends, and plays my blood, and that is how I perceive the phenomena of the red spot; the old clear mind plays with the blood, and the altered set up of my brain, to influence and represent the people about. And at a more quiet and intense level, blows up small pieces of me to work with into the media of western civilization.
 
An old clear mind, is what enters me, to play my blood: primary characteristic, old.
 
It is still difficult to fathom though why The Lord makes people imperfect, unable to work with their hands in the soil, or for the exploitation of illegal aliens. They are so unhappy, and like children harming this country and theirs, yet people here and there are up in arms as if not allowing them here is bad for them. I don’t understand it, how God can make the press so starkly unable to apprehend realities.
 
Maybe god is forced to create so from badder forces in the universe. That is the only explanation. It strikes as old, and together enough, to turn our world in a more positive direction; give me good people who like to work; give me richer people who know how to relate; send the illegal aliens HOME, home is where they should be. But that is not happening, and we wonder why.
 

 

Why I am not at the Totten Farm in Long Valley NJ and Notes from 2010 on Agriculture

March 21, 2010

 

Why I am not at the Totten Farm in Long Valley NJ producing and marketing a crop 50% potatoes, and 5% ten other items.
 

 

Q. Vic, Why are you not at the farm this year. You’ve put in years developing a market there and corresponding productive ability? 

A. In a word, the market. 

Q. ? 

A. In a world where western civilization is designed to obscure the kingdom of god, immorally; The market is one of the most fake things out there. You see, the reality of the kingdom of god means that a higher power really distributes almost all food to the kingdom of god as deemed. The market is a show, and not conversant in this reality enough, or profficient enough in the joyful procurement of organics, or apprehensive of the true nature of relation between community and farm. 

Thus by going to other farms this year, across America, I will gain karma towards this challenge; because I will bump markets I hope in other places; be able to deal with this industry wide issue, as well as the trade issue in general; unite agrarian control in other regions; develop contacts and spirit towards my own business; learn production and market aspect; a host of across the board issue and opportunity; and travel the country staying on farms something I have wanted to do for years: learning organic cultures, Praise the Lord. 

Q. Well what about The Totten Farm? 

A. There are two people, a couple, running it; and they should be consistent with several of the necessary ideals towards community relations and the meaning of organic growing. As the impression of buddist wax upon the mind can only be improved and shaped from anterior forms, so they must be partly based on what I have left, and I must go on to new shapes of buddist wax, so that not only is the mold I leave critically improved, but other out there be complementary contributed to by me.

A few notes on this subject as the year progresses.
1) Experiencing and working at a few farms this year has been enormously helpful and I believe essential to eventually becoming my own organic grower. It is very securing and confidence inducing to see different operations and different forms and styles of growing. I can not overstate how great I feel seeing other operations and not running my own. It is not that I don’t encounter new improvements every year on my own—but the exposure to different styles, and market forms and products makes me feel much more professional and confident about this business.
2) I was looking for farms in north Carolina earlier this year. I sent out emails and called scores of farms in that area. Very few of them reached back, and the one’s that did, never culminated in my working with them. The farm I did help out at was through the personal connection of a friend, God Bless Him. This phenomena is what I seek to analyze.

First of all, when people would reach out to me about wanting to volunteer on the farm, I would be very grateful and schedule them in. My policy was to be as self-reliant as possible and have everything managed within what I am capable of; and use volunteers and slightly paid labor where and when they were most needed. I tried to have a diverse stable of personnel resources; including most of my friends and acquaintances, preferred people staying and helping for a short time, actively solicited potential help, the way one actively solicits a market; and many rainbows passing through, and many people from the Sheep’s Meadow/Strawberry Fields part of Central Park NYC, knew there was a farm with an ideal of work ethic and propriety and agrarian living they could experience in their path on life; and many friends and people were thankful they had the opportunity to be on The Totem Farm.
So I was quite frustrated to see this lack of initiative in farms I contacted. They are a front, the way much of the economy is a front; for the obvious principals of the business don’t seem demonstrated. Labor burns out. It is always well to spell them with some relief. A diverse and resourceful labor pool is a professional thing for an organic grower to developed. As agrarianism is the important thing to developed, this phenomena I encountered is a trade issue we need to discuss to get a hang of.
2) At the same time I don’t want to complain or sound upset. Part of this is stimulated by the amazing and beneficial and positive 2 weeks just spent at The Stoney Brook Farm in Hillsboro Virginia–which is northern Virginia within 60 miles of DC and Baltimore. The Lord moves in mysterious ways. I am sure after years of dedication to my own practice, the lord felt a little less organic growing in April and May for me was appropriate. But I still feel there was a shoddy professionalism to the lack of response to my offer of labor from a traveling person such as myself This phenomena will be discussed and accounted for. And again I am reminded of it from the Stoney Brook farm, where I saw how depleted and rejuvenated labor resources can be; where I saw how a farm with easily a 100,000 in revenue if not 2-3 times that over a year absolutely needs help—-the contradiction between logic and reality—is Satan attacking agriculture—for reasons we have to fathom have to do with pain in the universe—and part of a grand plan.3) It is very hard to find people interested in a more agrarian society and willing to take on more severe responsibilities than volunteering and helping my organizational efforts. I mean there are organic growers through out N.J. and the states; but while the Totten Farm has looked for more people to partner with; there are not many applicants. At the end of 2009, 4 couples in their twenties applied and were interviewed for partnership positions. I was skeptical that couples could do what requires an immediate love of organic growing. Organic growing can require a hardship which the comfort of a relationship, unless handled in a mature, older, and realistic fashion, can detract and jettison. So I was happy about the interest, but would have just parlayed that interest into future interest of new applicants as the karma and growth of my efforts seem to make the farm more interesting and appealing each year.Ideally I was looking for a helper, an assistant to be there, learn the market, learn the production system, and then I could move on the following year and still guide the transition; all under the fundamental principal of making growing more popular and easy; because if managed right, it really isn’t as hard as some professionals appear to make it out on their websites; actually intimidating potential volunteers and workers; by not valuing taking care of their workers like a baseball manager takes care of his pitchers; maximizing their work and efficiency by balancing it with contrasting productive activities and understanding the weariness a long season needs to effectively combat. Strong markets, developed with spiritual basis, and experienced streamlined production techniques, can make the season much less taxing—and these ideals take years to developed and hone; but I can concretely say each year for me for five years got much easier; with noticeable improvement, relief, and reward. Well the lord seemed to want me to move on and experience other farms, which is essential for my professionalism; to be exposed to chickens, berry bushes and irrigation; from my simplicity; to have a work relationship with other professionals in the trade; and so one couple was picked to manage an operation; the finer parts of the farm given to them; and I was not really in the loop of discussion; so it was only in February that I got the bad feeling that I was moving on; which as I said, I always wanted; however if that could have been ascertained; maybe I could have helped with the transition, guided the new managers with my familiarity of the subject. But the new couple was really understanding the huge responsibilities of the operation; refused to even share the good kitchen with me; and this was folly pure and simple; for a fire started in the kitchen and burned the old house, to a repairable or unrepairable point I don’t know, certainly it is uninhabitable.
And I had to ask myself, why would organic growers, not want to have me on the farm? Organic Growers seem to understand farms require people and spirit, a lot is required, stewardship from people who have been there before to help transition. In ways, this rejection of me, was inconsistent with my understanding of organic growing.
The only two reasons I know why people would behave like this, is if they are growing pot, or doing heroin—both are about the only activities in this circumstance that would desire the privacy this new couple installed. And this would also be consistent with sweet talking the owner of the farm. To be sure, there are mountainous areas of the country where growing marijuana is customary. This is not so to New Jersey’s agriculture.

4) Seeing the compatibility between communities owning farms as opposed to individuals or couples; as the former provides labor resource and market; the concept of towns or neighborhoods going in on unsought farmland seems very attractive, and I have been working on this end. Imagine 20,000 people giving 50 dollars from Bedford Stuyvesant in Brooklyn buying a farm. That’s a huge labor and market resource, and makes total sense, and what I working on and talking about.

I also want to say the farm I just worked at for two weeks, the stoney brook farm in Hillsboro Va, 50 miles west of DC, near Harpers Ferry, was a religious farm owned by a religious community, that had thrice daily councils and prayers and a good market. Their industry and success and effort and popularity is based on the strength and fortitude of spirituality and religious practice. The endeavlor into farming is complimented by religion. If only who they sell to can admit the realit of earth, spirituality may spread through the region and genuine harmony break out.

Reason why lack of interest from farms in labor, though natural, there is a front, and something against agriculture, the universe, so you have to be good to expose yourself to the reality humans like me offer. We don’t believe it is natural for people to be able to work a full season, but short stints, travel around, some can, seen burnout.

Grant Request- Amended

February 26, 2010
Dear  N.J. Department of Agriculture,

As you can see below, I am trying to get state support for free assemblies. These assemblies would discuss wiser and more sensible economies; the people could say what they want about the economy, what they want with their time and life, and this would be an empowering opportunity for the people to address the issue of the economy before an assembly of people. I have faith this would lead to a wiser economy.

Free assemblies, would tend to a more agrarian society, and general production.

Free Assemblies are consistent with your interests of agriculture. Because the people are not solicited into discussion of what they want with their time and life; or are not used to being part of a local decision-making process, there can be assumption of an aversion to agriculture, rather than the value of it, I see.

I hope your behind the scenes interest is used to further the promotion of my efforts at the department of community affairs.

Of course, if free assemblies are consistent with your focus, and you help me, we may take the lead in making N.J. a better place.

Indeed, it is a shame we don’t have a department of spirituality, because godliness developes as well.

I know the world is not as it seems. The first thing a free assembly would discuss is why aren’t free assemblies practiced, why hasn’t the common discussion of modern life in free assembly galvanized society, because free assemblies are logical and sensible and legal enough, to suppose there is more to this than merely me bringing it up, this could have been easily figured out. Free Assemblies differentiate ourselves from animals.

So why haven’t then been held by now? That would be the first topic of discussion and potentially galvanizing as a common concern.

If any of you have any comments regarding why Free Assemblies to discuss and decide common concerns, and give a venue to the concerns of the people, has not been practiced in recent decades, please contribute them.

Sincerely, Vic Fedorov

 
 
Feb 25, 2010
Re: Free Assemblies
To Whom It May Concern:

I will try to contact the DCA to ask where my proposal should go: advice.

This is an educational, healthy, spirited and industrious program for the minds and relief of the spectrum of citizen. Free Assemblies start with the premise of benefiting all, and I urge you to consider them.

– Vic Fedorov

 

Dear Division of Community Affairs, of the Attorney General’s Office of N.J.,

I have a proposal I would like you to consider, and help me, my associates, and my nonprofit Free Assembly Inc., help the citizens of N.J..

We would like to organize free assemblies in urban and minority areas, as well as other places: suffice that urban minority areas need free assemblies most.

The public is misinformed when free assembly is construed as a protest. A free assembly is a form of community decision-making.

We left the state of nature to discuss our community. Free Assembly is the natural and political form for these discussions and decisions. All present may discuss, rules of order apply, and all present have a voice vote so ayes and nays may decide a resolution.

In some towns of New England, (See Amherst Mass rules of local government, and Citizens Guide to Massachusetts Form of municipal government) 236 members of the town are required to be a quorum to vote on a resolution. According to Princeton Townships website, free assemblies were practiced in Princeton until 1900; in 1947 our state constitution incorporated towns with local officials; abridging free assembly, in violation of the first amendment; and delegating powers not given to the federal government by the U.S. constitution and reserved for the state or the people, to local officials, who are not the state, nor the people, and exercise powers reserved for the state or the people: In violation of the tenth amendment.

Thus this is very much a civil rights issue; as the first and tenth amendment guarantee us the privilege of free assembly, and immunity from local officials, and yet state constitutions violate this: This is about enforcing existing law. Yet the state civil rights division does not include this in its legal protection. Representative government makes sense at a state and federal level, but is not reasonable locally. The integrity required to deal with this issue can not be understated.

Free Assembly requires resolutions that can be voted on, that are of compelling interest. What these resolutions structure; the phrasing, is work as well as assessing popular issues.

The right to freely assembly is really more the right to organize free assemblies, than the right to attend them. Is not helping me abridging free assembly?

Twice I have applied for community rooms to use for free assembly and localities have abridged my procuring a space; through nonprofit and tax-paying requirements, abridging free assembly, in violation of the first amendment. Your help is needed in arranging local community rooms to have free assemblies and transmitting the civic duty of their attendance.

Free Assemblies may be had outside in parks, as well as Lodges and Churches, which requires money.

Once a place and time is decided, the free assembly and what free assembly is, is promoted. Public turn out is not easy. Promotion must advance and public, galvanize in limited society. Human beings are different from humans. Classical times addressed this apathy by enforcing attendance of free assemblies: Like voting, a civic obligation, worthy of participation. Civic pride is consistent with your charter and ethos. A spirit must be consistent with this behavior; Free Assembly must be seen as one of the best activities of our polity; a transcendent respect of democracy and each other.

The initial promotion, listing the time and place, explaining free assembly, must solicit resolutions and resolution ideas. In some New England towns, that more closely adhere to the tenth amendment, any resolution, called a warrant, with ten signatures, must be voted on.

A second promotion then goes out listing the time and place, explaining free assembly, and lists resolutions to be discussed. Getting the sense of what the resolutions should be requires caucusing and canvassing. One question I have for New England town governments is why the resolutions they discuss and vote on don’t seem to take on a repressive economy and educational system.

At the free assembly people show up, discuss and vote on the resolutions, and when the free assembly is to be is decided on. Parliamentary procedures apply, and an archon or speaker chooses who speaks next, based on the principal that those who spoke least have priority; And speakers may respond to previous points. Free Assemblies are logically where community decisions are made. Incorporated local government, consistent with these goals, may feel compelled to work with free assemblies. These kind of politics, require the help of your office, and are of interest to other states and jurisprudence.

Free Assemblies would decrease violence and crime empowering people and make the state stronger in dealing with issues that concern all N.J.. The federal government would become more readily seen as outdated. And states taking care of themselves, would more ably tailor reform.

I would like to set up Free Assemblies in 6 N.J. cities over a year through a grant and work with your agency.

Thank you Vic Fedorov

68 Laurel Rd

Princeton N.J. 08540

201 232 1154

Ruidx32go@yahoo.com

Cc. Sen. Shirley Turners Office