Yesterday, on my first day home, three extraordinary encounters.

Yesterday, on my first full day home, I enjoyed three encounters that, one by one, blew my mind, already opened even wider and deeper by the Boundary Waters experience. The first two encounters occurred because I now regularly choose to plunge beneath the matrix surface in supposedly “commercial” transactions. And the third encounter felt, well, like coming home, to a group that’s talking about the “circular economy”: Inspired by living systems, the circular economy concept is built around optimising an entire system of resource or material flows.

Inspired by living systems, the circular economy concept is built around optimising an entire system of resource or material flows.

I noticed, during the circular economy discussion, that people there barely mentioned “money,” or if they did mention it, then with a grain of salt, as if we who know better are still having to dip our hands into this matrix money mess, while assigning it just about zero value.

On my Boundary Waters trip, I’d mentioned to at least ten people that “what I’m trying to do is live below money.” The remark puzzles people — but not these folks! I felt right at home.

Okay, here goes. What happened yesterday.

First, I had to go to the AT&T store, to get a new internet connection for this Overhill house (we’ve been tied to the internet in the DeKist house, and with six people using the internet, we’ve slowed WAY down at this house). The clerk, a nerdy-looking, neat, thin young white male, was well-mannered and responsive to my needs — until it came to the part where I had to ask a security question, and chose “my favorite singer.” Well, of course, I said out loud as I put it down in code, “Nina Simone.”

“Nina Simone!” he blurted out, surprised. “She’s my favorite singer, too.” BTW: this happens to be the second time I was in the AT&T store when a Nine Simone moment occurred — but with another clerk!

After a while, that other clerk strolled over to greet me by name. (Our encounter had been memorable.) I told him that this new clerk also loved Nina Simone. They were surprised to find each other in a new way.

Meanwhile, yesterday’s clerk and I started talking about politics. Don’t ask me how. But he did mention that he had a shelf worth of Chomsky publications! Aha! “But,” I mused out loud. “I wonder about Chomsky, since he won’t touch the subject of 9/11.” Without batting an eye, the clerk remarked, “Yes, Chomsky is used to define the limits of the left.” Wow! I had no idea young people, especially young clerks at AT&T, are thinking so clearly. He then went on to say that controlled opposition has always been used, but technology is just adding new dimensions to it. All this said without blinking or emotion. Just the facts, ma’am. Impressed.

Next, I decided to walk into Sears. Which I did on the spur of the moment, to ask a clerk there about how long clothes dryers usually last. Seven to ten years, I was told, by a 40ish, out-of-shape, disheveled, white male clerk with teeth that did not get the braces our culture says he needed when he was a kid. “And that’s because of ‘Energy-Star’ which mandates that appliances have to have the smallest motor to do the job.” Ergo, the motors work harder than they used to, and die earlier. I.e., unintended consequences.

“Oh,” I commented. “My dryer (now on the blink) is 14 years old.” (We’re drying clothes on the line, but d0 need a backup).

My eyes darted to a washer/dryer set advertised for sale, nearly $1000 each. What I expected. “Let me show you something else,” he said. And led me to a Maytag set for half that cost, and with a ten-year warranty! Wow! Done!

Meanwhile, he and I also started talking “politics,” this time spurred by a question from a young, overwhelmed-looking Chinese man and his mate who asked how to get their new washer and dryer installed. The clerk gently instructed them to a non-Sears installer, since they had not bought the set at Sears.

After they walked away, I said, “One of 3000 new Chinese students at IU.”

“Yep, I read the same article.”

Well, that started us off. About corporatism at the university, all the new buildings, rising tuition, student debt, you name it. I bet we talked for 20 minutes, completely forgetting what I was supposedly there to do.

I mention these two incidents because they caught me by surprise: I am used to walking around this lovely university town thinking forbidden thoughts, discussing such issues as those above with my son Colin Cudmore of the Garden Tower Project, and hardly anyone else.

Hmmm. What did those three weeks away do to me? I seem to have entered a new level of transparency in my daily life, plunging right to the heart of the matter as I go about my errands. And what I’m finding blows my mind. At least it did yesterday. Are people waking up? Or am I waking up to how awake so many of us actually are. And if so, let’s do what I did yesterday, just plunge in on our daily rounds, talking about what really concerns us. Let’s get all the hidden fears and views out in the open. Let’s air them out, fill them with energy, and then use our collective understanding to transform the status quo.

Okay, that takes me to last evening, and my decision to go to an expensive ($40) event put on by Indiana hemp enthusiasts — with a meal featuring hemp recipes from FarmBloomington restaurant. I didn’t know why I was impulsed to go; and I certainly didn’t know why I then invited young housemate Brie, a budding free-lance journalist (among other things), to go in my place (this was at 5:35 p.m., only minutes before she or I would have to leave for the 6 p.m. gathering). She had just gotten up from a nap after her grueling day working as a clerk for a corporate chain at $8/hour. Instantly, she agreed to go, and convinced me to go, too. Okay. I will shell out $80 for this event!

We both hurriedly washed our faces and got in the car. Ten minutes later, we walked into  a small room inside the restaurant with a powerpoint presentation set up and and about a dozen other people, all of them hemp activists of one sort or another.

Including Eric Carlson, the Colorado Director of Hemp Affaires for the National Cannabis Chamber of Commerce:


Including “just an old country boy farmer from Kentucky,” sly as a fox, and just as determined, passionate Chad Wilson, sporting a Green Remedy

logo350-noTagbaseball cap and teeshirt — who is healing himself of three crushed discs with CBD oil, and is putting his entire life and fortune on the line for hemp and its possibilities to change the world.

“How did you crush the discs?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe it happened after all those times as a kid plunging off a cliff with a hose tied around my waist.” Ye gods!

And including Brandon Pitcher, CSO and Founder of Hemp Circle Industries,

imgres an inventive genius who, I know, I just know, is supposed to meet my son Colin. They are brothers. And it’s my task invite them both to lunch. Aha! That is why I was impulsed to shell out $80 for this hemp meeting.

And Brie, who was “overwhelmed” by learning about the myriad possibilites of hemp, will no doubt, do some kind of free lance story. Who knows, that might be the story to launch her career. In the car on the way home, we tossed about the idea of calling hemp “the holy grail” of our time.

Whew! All that on the very first day home! And all of it, as usual, working below the place where we’re “moving stuff around” to the human and other relationships that bind us to each other and all living things, including this living, breathing planet inside its loving cosmos!

Oh wait! Speaking about “stuff,” one of my Boundary Waters canoe-mates, Barbara, told me about a George Carlin riff about stuff. Maybe that’s where I picked up on the idea?



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Return from Minnesota Boundary Waters: Short recap; hopefully, more to come.

IMG_2353I confess I’m internally still there, at the border between Minnesota and Canada, communing, and yet I do promise, IF events here and elsewhere don’t catch me so swiftly that I can’t look back even for a moment, to soon give a fuller accounting of my three-week journey to that mystic watery land, made famous and, so far, preserved as a designated “national wilderness” by one of its intrepid residents, Sigurd F. Olson, in The Singing Wilderness and eight other books.

Here’s a beautiful 7-minute visual rendition of a reading from this book.

As ever, beauty has its beast: in this case, the grey wolf, which has not yet been driven to extinction in the boundary waters area of Minnesota. This fresh print, photo taken Sunday last, is as wide as my hand. Notice the deer print above it, running, scared, covering what appears to be a smaller wolf print. Perhaps the big wolf’s mate?


But the wild wolf is no problem. The real big bad wolf is, as usual, corporate. A drive to build new mines to extract copper from sulfite rock which, when processed, turns into sulfuric acid that would inescapably seep into and contaminate the entire pristine boundary waters area. More info on that ghastly proposal, and extraordinary local efforts to stop it, to come. Meanwhile, here’s a fierce, thumbs-down photo of a group of us, Great Old Broads for Wilderness, who were being given a tour of damage already done: areas in which sample cores have been extracted from the ground, both vertically and at angles.


Below, is the final sentence Olson typed out before his final ski tour, during which he dropped dead, of a heart attack.

While I do plan to speak more of my my extraordinary journey to the northlands, I also look forward to further adventures, whatever their form, and no matter how unexpected.




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Midway through three-week journey: REPORT


Where we started our canoe trip in the Boundary Waters: Snowbank Lake.

Sunday, August 16.

Just returned form a fabulous broasted chicken meal at The Junction Grill near Babbitt, down the road from Ely, during which I read lots of maps and other p.r. pieces about this beautiful place on Planet Earth. Got into my motel room around 5 p.m. Clothes from canoe trip now washed and hanging in the bathroom.

But first, let’s back up a week:

During the first four days of this three-week trip, I functioned as one of the guides during a retreat — billed as a “pilot project” —  at Oakwood Center near Selma Indiana. A fabulous time, during which about two dozen of us kept discovering what it means to actually Be At Home on Planet Earth. We were attempting to slow down — to recognize the ubiquity of the obvious; to feel into the invisible presence breathing through us. To actually experience how primal life flows through our bodies; how these bodies, in turn, participate in the living, breathing body of Earth.  In short, we were attempting to grasp and hold what, in this hyperactive, technologically wired culture, our minds tend to completely ignore and/or take utterly for granted. And to this end we jointly, and at times spontaneously, co-created a number of, let us say — NOVEL — and astonishingly successful techniques. These techniques shall remain unmentioned for now.

Then I drove a million hours to Minneapolis in one day.

That was Monday last. Spent Tuesday kayaking the lakes in Minneapolis with my like-minded cousin Ben Kreilkamp who I discovered has been practicing tai chi for 40 years! Then he and his dear friend Adrian and I sat outside for a fabulous restaurant meal in perfect late summer evening twilight.

The next day I drove four hours north from Minneapolis to the Boundary Waters Region of Minnesota, where it intersects with Canada. But first, a mistake: drove probably 30 minutes south of Minneapolis (while noticing that the Sun was on the wrong side of the car and trying to ignore the noticing), before realizing that, aha! — 35W (south) is not the same as 35W (north).

In any case, I still got here, to Ely Minnesota, in plenty of time to meet my guides and group from Wilderness Inquiry at the Ranger Station east of Ely shortly before 2 p.m. Our group: four old women, including me, all of us members of Great Broads for Wilderness, two guides, both young, one female and one male, and one 25-year old man who decided to join this group at the last minute, despite being told who else would be in on it . . .

The two guides have been friends ever since they met in Ecuador, and this is their first guiding trip where they were partnered. Our five days together were filled with high-spirited adventure, with many portages (carrying both canoe and supplies from one lake to another, including one portage that was nearly 1/2 mile long — both coming and going), extraordinary meals with fresh produce and ultimately way too much food. Even drink! We polished off both red and wine cardboard flasks while on the trip, and enjoyed them hugely while sitting around the camp fire laughing and seriously conversing by turns.

But ultimately, the main deal was THE PLACE: the boundary waters that teem with loons and eagles, and beaver, and, supposedly fish (we didn’t see many, and fish weren’t biting for fishermen), bear and wolves. Also frogs, one of which kept finding me and actually allowing me to pet it, and a single species of butterfly which continuously occupied our various camps. On the final day, a final butterfly landed on me, and decided to stay on my body in various places for a long time. As a result, for me at least, frogs and butterflies were a huge part of this spectacular trip which also featured wind that, during the final two days, blew the many lakes that we paddled through in our canoes into white tipped waves which required HUGE ENERGY to navigate — both staying the course and not getting blown into rocks. Plus, it happened to be perhaps the most important weekend for canoeing, since it’s August, when the mosquitos are almost gone and school is just around the corner.  Which meant that canoe parties were all searching for open campsites, a limited number of which are set up and available. Plus, crowding at the portages themselves, one of which, as I said, was very long, and at which, various parties would good-naturedly cue up.

Those five days turned into one of the most magical experiences of my long life, both because of the wilderness experience (where cell phones don’t work), and because of the capacity of our two guides to make the best of whatever happened, to truly “be at ease with whatever is arising,” including both helping us old broads in our 70s not only get in and out of canoes while slip-sliding on slippery underwater rocks, but to sit inside a cascading waterfall one at a time, and crucially, to learn how to navigate the waters while propelling the canoes forward in the direction desired, no matter how brutal and tricky the winds.

Until that is, the final day, today. When we woke up after an incredible night during which thunder and lightning and a bit of rain swirled through and kept on swirling, the winds not dying down, but actually picking up. Which is, according to our guides Cory and Dan, very uncharacteristic. Usually winds in the boundary waters pick up in the afternoons; mornings are calm. Well, not this day. In fact, one of our three canoes couldn’t make it around a point — the wind was pushing the waves so powerfully onto the loaded canoe with two people in it, only one of whom was both strong and knew what she was doing.

The result? The first two canoes made it to the leeward shade of an island and waiting for the other canoe — to no avail. Oops! Did it get swamped? So both canoes, despite exhaustion from battling the winds, headed back, to round that first point where hopefully, the third canoe would come into view. Nope.

Oh, but wait! There’s a motor boat with fishermen! Dan blew his very loud whistle. Once. Twice. They turned, waved, and headed towards us. Thus did what I would call divine intervention interrupt what could have been some kind of tragedy.

It turned out that the third canoe couldn’t get enough oomph to round the first point into the biting wind, and headed for shore, to regroup, and redistribute its considerable weight. Then, amazingly enough, just as they were headed out again, they heard the sound of a motor, and yep! There was their rescue team!

In short, what was supposed to take one hour of paddling, took four hours of being rescued, an elaborate operation that climaxed with three canoes being yoked together and pulled in tandem as a kind of raft behind the motorboat with the two fishermen who were glad of a rescue operation, since the fish were not biting; our two guides and the young man each sat in one of the canoes, bailing water with the pans that we had used to wash our dishes all the way across to the take out point with us, “the ladies,” having already been ferried across on the motor boat, waiting on the other side.

So, it turns out, this five day adventure turned out to be one wherein the adventure just kept getting stronger, riskier, day by day. And great fun! We, the ladies, aka Great Old Broads, relished every minute of our at times terrified exhilaration in the company of the three beautifully aware, strong, gentle, funny, and insightful young ones who hopefully, will inherit an Earth upon which her human inhabitants are beginning to remember to surrender to our Love for Her. For once that happens, we humans will find ourselves naturally and joyfully tasked with cleaning her up, transforming our toxic waste into compost for renewed life.


More later.



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Final Update Saturn in Scorpio vs. Jupiter in Leo . . .GRATIAS!

hqdefault“Final” in the sense that this particular story does seem to have ended, and so now I will add this one more post. See previous Saturn in Scorpio posts. But of course, it’s absolutely no big deal in the big scheme of things where the same forces are at work, scaled up. It helps when we realize that what we are dealing with on a personal level IS what’s happening everywhere, eh? So how conscious are we as we go through our own particular labyrinth, blindfolded?

Last night, when I discovered that my car had the weird water leak, at first of course, I panicked. Second, I tried to figure out Plan B and C. Hmmm. . . both were possible, though inconvenient and expensive. Then I had to decide: would I let the problem with the car, if it turned out to be major, requiring days to fix, stop me? Or, alternatively, would I instead do B or C, even though inconvenient and expensive?

At some point I determined that YES, I was going to take this trip, NO MATTER WHAT. Then, I was able to sleep.

This morning, I actually did have a bit of humor playing around my lips as I negotiated with World Wide Auto when to bring out the car. 10:00 A.M. Okay. And I could sit there for 30 to 40 minutes while they figured it out, squeezing my problem into their already very full day.

Once there, I was so antsy that I asked them if I could do my yoga, chi kung, tai chi practice in the waiting room. “Of course!” I had gotten about halfway through when the smiling guy who had taken my keys handed them back with “she’s ready to roll!” (They all knew I was heading for the Boundary Waters.

Their diagnosis was so hilariously Saturn in Scorpio that I must tell you here:

• It was a rerun of an old problem. Check!

• It was caused by debris. Check!

• The debris (leaf matter) had wormed its way down into the AC so that the AC couldn’t drain properly. Check!

Imagine all those places inside us, especially inside our subconscious and deep unconscious minds, that are literally, littered with stagnant emotional debris that has created physical effects in our bodies, resulting in dis-ease.

Imagine scouring those places out, letting all that emotional gunk go.

You can imagine how free, generous and expansive I felt (Jupiter in Leo) when I pranced  outta there with my keys swinging — having also been told, by the way, that there would be no charge. GRATIAS!

BTW: I fully concur with Laura Bruno in her assessment of theruiner’s assessment of Earth’s pregnant capacity to overrule whatever they do to try to control her and her inhabitants. Or, in the current vernacular: her Jupiter in Leo trumps their Saturn in Scorpio.

Or, again, from another point of view, her Saturn in Scorpio has the patience and determination to overrule any of their egomaniacal Jupiter in Leo designs.

Do you see? Planetary energies can be utilized consciously or unconsciously. Choose!




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Saturn in Scorpio Squeezes Jupiter in Leo — again! (Probably final post for next three weeks.)

hqdefaultIt’s time to laugh!

“Ha ha ha.”

Don’t ask the tone those haha’s are delivered in  . . .

Note: if you haven’t seen my other recent Saturn/Jupiter posts, check out this and this and this!

Last night I was cleaning out my car to prepare for epic three week trip, to include:

  1. August 6-9: serving as one of five leaders at Oakwood Retreat Center near Selma, Indiana, during a four day event called: BEING AT HOME ON EARTH: Re-Imagining Perspective, Restoring Participation.
  2. August 10-12: Visit with my cousin, Ben Kreilkamp, in Minneapolis.
  3. August 12-16: Boundary Waters Canoe Adventure, out of Ely, Minnesota
  4. August 16-20: camping and art
  5. August 20-24: Great Old Broads for Wilderness Save the Boundary Waters Broad Walk

Regarding the last event. You might want to check out the first time I walked with the Broads, here:

I will attempt to document this trip as well.

Meanwhile, last night, while cleaning out the car in preparation for the epic adventure, I discovered that the mat of the floor of the front seat was sopping wet. . . This happened once before, on the way back from Cincinnati after an ecovillage event. World Wide Auto will fit me and the car in at 10 A.M. today. . . And this, after the car underwent its Trip Check yesterday!

Saturn in WATERY Scorpio.

An old problem returns to haunt.

squares (90° angle) 

Jupiter in fiery Leo:

Expand into new adventure (Jupiter)

for self-expression! (Leo)

Yes, I am attempting to stay centered through it all, and above all, to laugh.

But here’s to warn you: I really don’t know how much I’m going to be able to — or even to want to — blog during these upcoming three weeks. And I’m afraid that includes today, when I must wrestle all the recurring obstacles into the ground inside my own small personal slice of this glorious collective adventure we call BEING AT HOME ON EARTH.

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Lammas again: The Promised “Photo Essay” both is and is not!

I said yesterday that I would publish a photo essay on our Lammas event over the weekend. That our new podmate Bradley, who is a professional photographer, would upload whatever he got that evening while also eating, drinking and being merry.

However, he told me, “when I looked at the pictures, they were just so-so.” He didn’t think they were worthy of thinking of as a photo essay.

But hey, who cares? Two of them aren’t bad. And I’m sure there will be plenty more where those came from. Bradley plans to do lots of photo stories on this place.

First, here’s Bradley’s photo of the altar. Notice the little Venus de Willendorf goddess candle that Laura gave me (back right, behind the yellow flower). Podmate Brie’s legs on the left; mine on the right. Notice the chair whose seat has given up the ghost and now has lumber across it if you decide to sit there. Notice the ink stain on the tablecloth. I actually made an instinctive move to cover that up when I saw Bradley taking the picture! Laura laughed, said “remember imperfection, Ann.” Oh my goddess, had I noticed the chair I would have forbidden the picture altogether!


Here’s Aaron, who runs his Dad’s farm as a permaculturist, and whose homemade cherry wine we were drinking, with his woofer from China. Poor dear, she can only barely speak English. Rachel, one of the mothers who was visiting, said the Chinese girl had asked for water, and somebody handed her a glass of sparkling water. She went to gulp it down and sputtered in terror and surprise . . . . Rachel really felt for her, not speaking the language.

IMG_2526Here’s David, Laura’s partner, savoring the wine.

IMG_2531Michaele (who painted the walls to my room last year) and me, facing the potluck table.

IMG_2539Behind us, Gary from Terre Haute, with Rebecca.

Today, I walked out into our seating area in back and came upon this!


Bradley chalked it in, last night. And it’s true. At this point, people are out there every evening, under the sparkling lights, hanging out.


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Saturn in Scorpio Saga Finale: Our collective trauma, up close and personal.

hqdefaultI was in Lucky’s grocery store this afternoon, and when I came to the register the man in front of me was spitting venom in a loud, fast, bitter voice. On and on, vituperation mixed with nonsense; as if there resided a demon inside him, and it had taken control. The man himself was slight, probably about my age, with messy dark hair rather like a rat’s nest, dirty clothes that hung on him, and two small old dirty packs. Most likely homeless. Most likely, a Vietnam Vet. One of the disappeared in our country. One of the unwanted, unseen, uncared for. Lost to the world.

As this ongoing disturbance at the checkout counter began to draw attention from wider and wider atmospheric circles, the clerk kept standing there in front of the register on the other side of him, his few groceries on the runner, her face filled with both alarm and compassion.

He went on and on, screaming obscenities while grabbing the inside of one pocket of his dirty levis after another, at times fingering out cash, and then stuffing it back inside. After a few minutes two other store clerks came up to stand with the original clerk, again compassionately, but on high alert. My feeling:  this man could have done anything, could have committed any kind of violence, and not even known that he had done it. I stayed back about 15 feet, while attempting to hold space for everyone involved.

Another clerk came up. This one stepped in front of me to the man himself, touching him gently on the arm, and asking if he was okay. Instantly, the tirade stopped, and the man said in a clear low tone, “I’m fine” — followed by not even a heartbeat before the horrific spewing noise began again.

Two spirits appear to occupy this one being — one of them here among us, seemingly aware, but way overpowered by the demented other.

Another minute or two went by while we all stood there in shock as the assault on the senses, on normality, on culture at large, on Earth herself, exploded on and on. Then that same clerk took the few things the man had set up there to buy, put them in a bag, and tried to hand the bag to him. Tried to give the groceries to him. To no avail. Again, in instant clear response, that low sane voice: “NO! I have money” —said with disdain.

But this exchange, or lack of one, seemed to signal the end of the tirade. The demon was spent. Finally, the man moved off and slowly out of the store, still spouting, but clearly no longer a danger to the rest of us. The three extra clerks — guardians — stood by, watching him go.

As I went to pay for my purchases, both the original clerk and I were so flustered and in shock that we both kept making mistakes. The wrong price wrung up on the computer; the wrong procedure followed on the credit card. . . She was almost in tears. We talked about this man, and all the others who have been so deeply disturbed by this, as she called it, “broken system.”

Yes, broken. The system has broken down, and it’s up to us to break open. To feel all of us, no matter how difficult the task, no matter how frightening. To be at one with the whole.

Afterwards, I stopped in at a locally-owned pet supply store down the road and walked in, only to be greeted by this sign.

IMG_2320Saturn in Scorpio: Vietnam — old wounds rise up to haunt us.


Jupiter/Venus in Leo: too proud to accept free groceries.



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Saturn in Scorpio Saga Finale: And how was YOUR day (again)?

hqdefaultAfter yesterday’s failure to dispose of the putrid Saturn in Scorpio poison, Round-Up, I took off at 7:30 A.M. today, for the same disposal place, which I figured I could hit before taking my car to get its Trip Check and oil change for my upcoming journey to the  waters that border Minnesota and Canada.

Figured this task would take about 20 minutes, tops.

I got there, and the “hazardous equipment” guy told me he could take the almost full container of Round-Up which had been sitting in my shed for over ten years, but not the paint cans. What? Yep.

Since the ones with paint did have kitty litter in them, and had been sitting there for months while the paint absorbed and dried, it was okay to dispose of them in the trash. But, he continued, they had to be in special orange bags. Go to Kroger to get them. And the bags had to go to another disposal facility. Where?  “Out Walnut “all the way to the four-lane highway ” (that would be SR 37, now being transmogrified into I69). “Just across the road, there’s Dillman Road. It’s right there.” He was helpful. Even came out to look at the paint cans at my request.

Okay. So I started driving north on Walnut, reversing the way I came, five miles to the nearest Kroger for the orange bags and thought about how the man at the facility seemed not just willing, but even eager to take the Round-Up. Which made me shudder. That meant that someone else will use it. That it will be used on the earth. That this poison, though I wasn’t the one to use it, would contaminate whatever it touched. Which made me remember how I still, STILL! sometimes forget my cloth bags when I go to the grocery store, that I still get and do use plastic bags on occasion. If I’m that unconscious, how can I expect anyone else to be more aware? The Earth is being poisoned, and I’m part of the problem: Saturn at the final degree of Scorpio. Take responsibility (Saturn), Ann, for your part of the death (Scorpio) of the natural world.

Orange bags purchased, I started south on Walnut again, passing the first facility, on my way to “Dillman Road.”

Well, wouldn’t you know, where he said the second facility was was not where it was. I crossed SR 37, drove up a winding wooded road a ways, and came to a cement construction company. Stopped the car. A burly young man got off a lawnmower and walked over  to lean in my window. Sweaty round face. Beaming. Very sweet and kind. We commiserated for awhile as to how he had never heard of Dillman Road. I turned around, went back to SR 37, drove north about 1/2 mile and there was the recycling facility, just off the road. I remembered being there a long time ago. Went up to the window. Was told I had to go to the place that said “scales” to pay the woman for the bags. “They will be $3.75 each.”

I put all the old paint cans in four orange bags and drove up to the “scales.” The woman on the other side of the window and I joshed around awhile, especially when she told me she didn’t have the capacity to take a credit card. Oh no! I had no cash. But then, thank the goddess, I did have my check book, something I never bring with me. Continuing to kid around I told her she’s lucky that I had my checkbook, otherwise she might not have lived through the situation. We both laughed, especially when she asked me the check number and I told her “911”!

That fun little interaction over,  I drove the car up and over the scales to the giant blue container I was supposed to dump the orange bags in. Of course one of them broke as I was lifting it out of the back of the car. (But as I said, the paint was dry.)

On the way north on Walnut again I was reminded of my new motto as I go through life, the one I told my siblings last March at one of the two weddings we all attended. Not many people “grokked it.” I figure because it’s just too obvious!

Here it is, once again:

When you get right down to it, it seems like what we are doing in this life is just “movin’ stuff around.” But really, that’s just an excuse for relationships!

So here I was trying to “move stuff around” (Round-Up and old paint cans), and in the process I interacted with four people (including a clerk at Kroger), three of which were, though of course short, both interesting and very very human. Each interaction made me feel good, made the heart lift. Made it easy to continue on down the road.

When I finally walked in the door at World Wide Auto (that entire saga had taken over an hour rather than the 20 minutes I had budgeted) I glanced at the clock. 9:11! Hilarious.

At (Leeds-certified) World Wide Auto we’re all used to each other being in relationship. As a matter of fact, I think that this is why this shop, which is more expensive than most, is so successful. We are all there together in a culture that feels good.

Being somewhat out in the country, World Wide offers rides home for those whose cars are in the shop. This time I sat in their Prius with a woman who works at IU’s new IT building not even a mile from my house. I asked her about the place. She told me that it’s strange, because the space is open. Everybody works in the same big room together. “At first, we all thought it would help establish an atmosphere of collaboration. But now, except for the groups that need to work together anyway, it’s turning out to be distracting to those who need solitude. Some people now work from home. Some managers allow it, some don’t.”

Once again, relationships! We who had just dropped our “stuff” off, were in a car together with a sweet old male driver, talking about cultural connections or lack of them. And yet we ourselves were in relationship for those ten minutes it took to deposit me at our little eco-pod, which I told her about, and I have a feeling that she’s going to want to visit. She also eagerly took my exopermaculture business card.

So, Saturn in Scorpio, dealing, finally and completely, in a protracted way, with old gunk from the past — those paint cans represent changing of the colors in various rooms over the past 13 years! — and yet, square Venus/Jupiter in Leo: people easing their way into being with each other while expressing their own selves. Both. At once.

And all this morning, I didn’t see any excessive Leo “ego” in action anywhere. Instead, I could feel and enjoy the natural self-expressive being of each person with whom I connected, in relationship, however briefly.

A great morning!









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Joan Bird: On approaching the possible phenomenon of SSPs (Secret Space Programs)


A.K.: I’ve been paying attention to this Corey Goode/David Wilcock broohaha, without knowing what to think about it. Joan Bird, my original UFO/ET buddy (we went together to Leo Sprinkle’s conferences in Laramie, Wyoming back in the turn of this millennium), weighs in on the subject to her ET mail-list. Sound advice, this.

UFO List – There are a growing number of witnesses coming forward and speaking about their involvement in Secret Space Programs (SSP’s) and in 2014 there was a Conference in San Mateo, CA  on the subject. At the JAML here in Helena, Dick O’Connor is going to show David Wilcock interviewing one of the major new SSP witnesses, Corey Goode in an interview on Gaiam TV this week.  (Anyone can subscribe to Gaiam TV to watch this interview, and there are other interviews of Corey Goode and other witnesses available on You tube.) In fact, there is an explosion of information coming out now about SSPs.

I have heard these stories for many years. They have been in my “Hold” box, and I am looking forward to investigating the subject in our local community of co-explorers. Collective wisdom is always helpful in sorting out the truth. People I respect in the field have cautioned about the danger of disinformation on the subject, regardless of whatever truth might underlie it. Given the amount of money that goes into the publicly acknowledged NASA and European Space Programs, considerable effort would have to be employed to hide secret programs, and anyone involved with such a program would most likely be subject not only to the highest security clearances and monitoring, but also to intense “debriefing,” using the most sophisticated techniques of mind control available in the intelligence community. As more witnesses come forward, we have to ask how and why they are getting away with speaking about these programs.I first became aware of the possibility of SSPs in the 2001 Disclosure Project Press Conference, when a witness testified about the existence of photographs of a base on the back of the moon. Karl Wolf was an USAF Airman 2nd Class, a Precision Electronics Photographic Repairman with a Top Secret Crypto Clearance stationed in Langley, VA. In 1965, he was loaned to the Lunar Orbiter Project at NASA. They were having trouble with a piece of equipment that was bottle-necking their ability for production of photos from the Orbiter. He was surprised to see people gathered at the facility from all over the world. When taken into the darkroom and shown the piece of malfunctioning equipment, he asked about the process of getting the signals from the Lunar Orbiter to the Lab. The Lab operator ended up telling and showing him, “with some distress,” about photos of a base on the back side of the moon. Her is a 2-minute clip from Wolf’s historic 2001 testimony:<>

I have also heard testimony from Niara Iseley, a military witness and military abductee, who had been taken to a U.S. base on the moon. Her story is documented in a Project Camelot interview, as well as a 2010 International UFO Congress presentation. I have become acquainted with Niara, and find her a courageous and highly credible witness. Kerry Cassidy of Project Camelot said this about Niara’s story:

Although her experiences are hard to believe, her down-to-earth way of relating the information if anything, underscores how very real they were and the depth of depravity and cruelty implied in her treatment brings to light some very sinister dealings going on that include a race or races of ETs and the military, that if true, couldn’t be more scandalous.

Here is a link to that 50 minute interview: <>

I know that many of you on this list have done a lot of your own investigation on this subject. Some believe that because of the broad public interest in space programs in general, these revelations could be an important piece in taking us to disclosure. All the more important to have antennae out for hidden agendas. There is no doubt the “mirage men” would be involved in some capacity, as hiding secrets and fooling the public is their raison d’etre.

And if Secret Space Programs are ever admitted, some of those mainstream scientists who truly believe they are pioneering efforts to initiate exploratory and landing programs on other planets are going to be mad as hell.

Attachments area


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Gov’t/Academy Collusion Department: Student debt CAUSES college tuition increases, “with students merely the pass-through vehicles”

I live in community with young people, many of whose futures are crippled by the spectre of apparently lifelong student debt; however, I did not recognize the mechanism that feeds this double bubble until I read the following report.

(No wonder Indiana University can afford to build so many gigantic, glamorous, limestone-faced buildings.)

BTW: Did you know that the student loans and student tuition both started exploding with the 2008 financial crisis?



Fed Finally Figures Out Soaring Student Debt Is Reason For Exploding College Costs

August 3, 2015

by Tyler Durden


Back in May 2014, in one of its patented utterly worthless “analyses” (that cost taxpayers several tens of thousands of dollars) the San Francisco Fed, home of such titans of central planning thought as Janet Yellen, asked “is it still worth going to college.” Not surprisingly, its answer was yes after some contrived mathematics that completely forgot to include just one thing:debt.

At the time, we had the following comment:

Oddly enough, having perused the paper several times, and having done a word search for both “loan” and “debt” (both of which return no hits), we find zero mention of one particular hockeystick. This one:



Perhaps for the San Fran Fed to be taken seriously one of these
years, it will actually do an analysis that covers all sides of a given problem, instead of just the one it was goalseeked to “conclude” before any “research” was even attempted.

An analysis, even a painfully simple one, such as the one we put together less than a month later:

It is common knowledge that in the hierarchy of bubbles, not even the stock market comes close to the student loan bubble. If it isn’t, one glance at the chart below which shows the exponential surge in Federal student debt starting just after the great financial crisis, should put the problem in its context.



And while we have previously reported that a shocking amount of the loan proceeds are used to fund anything but tuition payments, a major portion of the funding does manage to find itself to its intended recipient: paying the college tuition bill.


Which means that with student debt being so easily accessible anyone can use (and abuse), it gives colleges ample room to hike tuition as much as they see fit: after all students are merely a pass-through vehicle (even if one which for the most part represents non-dischargeable “collateral”) designed to get funding from point A, the Federal Government to point B, the college treasury account.


It should thus come as no surprise that in a world in which colleges can hike tuition by any amount they choose, and promptly be paid courtesy of the federal government, and with endless amounts of propaganda whispering every day in the ears of impressionable potential students the only way they can get a well-paying job is to have a college diploma (see San Francisco Fed’s latest paper confirming just this) there is no shortage of applicants willing to take on any amount of debt to make sure this cycle continues, that soaring tuition costs are one of the few items not even the BLS can hedonically adjust to appear disinflationary.


End result: tutitions have literally expoded across the country in both public and private colleges.


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