My Heart Hurts

Something strange has been going on today and I just realized what it is now, at 2:07a.m. My heart hurts. Like the fish dying in the Gulf of Mexico now, suffocating from the millions of gallons of oil, pouring into the molecules of water, once clean, fresh, alive. My heart is hurting, unable to leap into joy, today, feeling the pain of so many dying for no reason, other than mismanagement of earth's treasures.

How do I deal with that feeling, now?

Once the resource is gone sometimes it never returns. Oil is the blood of the underside of earth's skin. It is bleeding and if you think that it will not cause disruption of the movement of earth's energy, then you must be one of those people that do not get oil changes for your car until the engine ceases. How much more torture can earth take from us? The more we abuse her, the smaller the planet surface becomes for us to find space, water and fresh air to continue our existence.

I spent a few hours yesterday probing the internet. Reading Mission Statements, of many large non-profits, which are claiming to save the planet. I found many tied into some of the most subversive, multi-national groups on the planet. If you trace the board of directors or see which large multi-national "clubs" formed these groups, you could begin to see how the not-for-profit curtain thins, as the profits made from those who contribute, without examining the masks behind the showmen, running the game are being controlled by those who run the banks, oil companies, and governments. Many non-profits do not have such associations, of course.

I cannot save everything, on the planet, since I have only so much energy and not enough money, to save every living entity, on it , like those so impoverished they are ghost-like, invisible, living in poverty and pain, unimaginable to those of us who have food, roofs and gas to help us move around. Take a ride up into the favelas of Rio de Janeiro, some sunny afternoon. You will come back a changed person. Perhaps frightened, as many do, or else more compassionate and stunned, as was I, at my changed perception of poverty, sick at my blindness to what was 3 miles from my hotel in Rio.

When I walked out onto the street that evening to dinner, and walked past H.L. Stern's, I looked down at the green tourmaline, 22 carat gold ring I had purchased for myself, and felt sick, for a moment. Brazil Avg. Income per year - 2,342.00. The women, who I spoke with in the favela, who allowed me to enter her shack, told us she earned about 20.00 US a month. That was a good month.

I thought about the children of Africa, who have been raped or maimed, because they happened to be living inside a man-made, imaginary line of demarcation, which puts them in one country at war, rather then the one next door, that is without such bloodshed on its soul.

My parents once owned a Civil War hospital, in Gettysburg, Pa, which had been converted to a wonderful, warm farm house, with 2 foot thick, stone walls. It had been a Confederate hospital, and then the Union took it. There was a sun porch running across the front, looking over the pastoral view and our fields. A ghost lived there, in the corner of that sunroom. Many people who slept on the sun porch, when they visited, would come to the kitchen for breakfast and say they had seen "him" again. The ghostly form was that of a young man, crouching in the corner, crying, and his crying is what would awaken them at night.

I would sit in the sunroom, when I would visit from my place in Alexandria, VA., and think about him, wishing him to appear so I could ask why he cried. From what pain, or sorrow, arose his mournful sounds, still emanating since July 1,2, or 3rd, 1863? 75,000 soldiers from one side vs.94,000 from another, on that bloody field. What horrors for that boy, I cannot imagine.

I never saw him. I didn't need to since that house sat in the middle of one of the worst nightmares of the North and the South, the battlefield at Gettysburg, where thousands died, more from wounds and amputations, than instantaneous death. Instant death would have been much more preferred by most of them, I would guess, than the grizzly operations, without anesthesia. For me, it is always the sound of those in pain, or breathing their last, which I always remember, and arises in me the memory of their pain and agony.

Today, my senses where affected by the cries from an ocean of fish and other creatures, screaming to the sky, for release from the painful deaths they are all enduring, inside their home of once magnificent water. Hellish and unexplainable to them, a miasma of death, without warning and no escape for the mammals, birds, crustaceans and molecules once living, now destroyed. How many molecules destroyed, I wonder.

The number of electrons in the known universe is 10^88, which is ten-thousand

quattuordecillion. Just for perspective, one trillion dollar bills laid end-to-end,

at the equator would circle the planet nearly 3,000 times.

Trying to imagine how many molecules and living organisms were destroyed

because someone didn't lay the cement down right, at 5,000 ft. below the ocean's

surface, which caused a bubble to rise and blow out hundreds of millions of oil,

and kill not only men on that derrick, but anything within miles, and thousands of feet below,is truly something we all are accountable for since we all want oil.

You and me are dependent on it, and we need it to fly our

planes, run our cars, heat our homes, and make all those plastic containers

that your printer ink comes in. You know --ink cartridges.

We are using Earth's blood to feed ourselves, and provide our comforts for travel

and personal agendas. Instead of Soylent Green, let's call it Soylent Black.

If you have never seen this sci-fi movie, pick it up this week and

then look at some pictures of what that mass of red in the Gulf

looks like from the satellites.

[Soylent Green is a 1973 American science fiction film directed by

Richard Fleischer. Starring Charlton Heston, the film overlays the

police procedural and science fiction genres as it depicts the investigation

into the brutal murder of a wealthy businessman in a dystopian future suffering

from pollution, overpopulation, depleted resources, poverty, dying oceans

and a hot climate due to the greenhouse effect. Much of the population

survives on processed food rations, including the eponymous "soylent green".

---Excerpt from Wikipedia]

Where am I going with this blog, today? I do not know. When the screams of those

animals, dying, in the Gulf reached my consciousness today, I became sad,

then angry, then tired of ongoing destruction we all support, silently,

because we "have to have" something which, in order to get it, we need to

destroy the earth's gentle balance to satisfy our desires.

I know there is a solution, somewhere in our hearts, in someone's mind,

that will allow us to live without oil. We will never have to stab the earth,

with steel straws, 5,000 feet long, puncturing ocean floors, or ripping across

Gaia's body, with steel claws to gather minerals, and strip Gaia of all hers.

We are all one soul, are we not? Maybe this blog today will bring some

awareness into your heart. Maybe you will do something to help.

I recalled a wonderful book, I read a few years ago. It relieved my

anger, about my part in destroying such a beautiful body of water, and all that

lay beneath the Gulf, this week, and the pain, I felt for a few hours today.

Here is the excerpt”

Every Warrior of the Light has felt afraid of going into battle.

Every Warrior of the Light has, at some time in the past, lied

or betrayed someone.

Every Warrior of the Light has trodden a path that was not his.

Every Warrior of the Light has suffered for the most trivial

of reasons.

Every Warrior of the Light has, at least once, believed he was not

A Warrior of the Light.

Every Warrior of the Light has failed in his spiritual duties.

Every Warrior of the Light has said ‘yes’ when he wanted to say ‘no’.

Every Warrior of the Light has hurt someone he loved.

That is why he is a Warrior of the Light, because he has been through all this

And yet has never lost hope of being better than he is.--

Paulo Coelho, The Manual of the Warrior of Light.

I know I am a better human than I was yesterday, or last week. I believe that

as we move through space at 25,000 miles per hour, I am evolving also in

that energy transition. The overwhelming sense of being barren of any solution, this morning, as I drank my mate, from Argentina,wondering how I could to stop earth's destruction is gone now.

I don't stay in anger mode, very long, anymore. It takes up too much energy.

My joy in life always exceeds my frustrations. I am not a ghost, I am flesh and blood, alive, worthy of love because I love deeply, even though I may not show it

in my actions or words, all the time. Love is there deep, abiding and whole.

The one thing that can change All.

That soldier, the young soldier on the farm in Gettysburg, lived in fear and died,

probably, a painful, lonely death, as did many of the beings in the Gulf of Mexico

this week. I send all of them love today, for it is the only thing I have today to share.

I send love to you and hope you are the one that finds the solution,

or part of the solution to end our dependence on oil.

It would be a worthy offering to such a beautiful place

that has allowed us all a home, a place where we learn to Love

and act from Love.