The certainty of life is not Death and Taxes

A bit deep this, but as one becomes more aware of the bottomless nature of desire and the lure of amusement and self picturing oneself into imagined situations or associated desires, of the fear of not doing and its tangible affect upon ones emotions and self image, then life is not all about death and taxes........it is about life, celebration and love...

And the opposites in life, that provide us with out ups and downs, or right and wrongs, define edges and ranges between, are everywhere true but not the whole picture, and like Junior Murvin's Police and Thieves (see video below), show that in this physical state we live in, opposites are needed, reflect what is out-there, but do not touch the reality on another level, that opposites together become one, without each other, they could not exist.


The certainty of life is not Death and Taxes

Two certainties in life,
Death and Society.
Taxing our bodies with their bills and invoices
Painting the pictures of self and other indelibly by
Filling the forming patterns and patting down the casting sand’s impression.

Two certainties in life,
Ying and yang.
That both sides only exist in opposition
And in this physical trap and with Time’s unravelling they
Hold up our conscious world to what primitive focus we can have.

Two certainties in life,
Me and you.
Oneself and the other really united not separate
Provoking the boundaries of our worlds with this riddle’s unravelling
Perceived with the gaps that lie between speech, thought and words.

Two certainties of life,
Flow and stillness.
Like water in a river’s stopper-wave or ripple
Forever a moving current with the illusion of non-movement to go
Beyond cognition and provoking our awareness of self and being.

The rub for me,
The difference between
Visioning and demanding.
Allowing something special-different to happen in my life
Which is at the same time everyday ordinary; experienced in the full-present and un-demanded.

Police and Thieves in the streets

A Poetical Thought

Could poetry turn the words of hate

into nothing more than worthless flakes

of wind blown barren seeds?

Mindfullness; a breath away

Here are two poems to go, on the road to somewhere, a road the verbal mind can not co-join me on. We are soo often mislead by the ‘helpful’ and attention-seeking overactive internal stream of verbal comment.

Born from a need to be recognised and the belief in its own uniqueness, the verbal mind continues to try and please, like a servile dog; only too often placed as the top dog in our psyche, and, un-like the wizard of Oz, well hidden behind its shadowy curtain.

Mediation will always improve how you do things, will always improve a situation, will reward you, not in things, not in conquests, but in openness. Lies give people power over one another, so Politicians by their very nature will lead through lies. They seek that power. And like them, internally, we have given, taken and swallowed many lies to ourselves.

Dropping the way and game of words, we can start to see those lies, feel them out, and turn to an understanding of where words should stand in our lives, and create more space for actions, and non-action and inner worth, the quiet giants in us all, that are the real elephants in our internal worlds. Turn to them and welcome their wisdom in.

Mindfullness

Are you a mind half-empty
Or a mind half-full
Type of person?
The breath-in confirms life
In-spires
The breath-out,
The expiring breath,
Fore-echo’s our final terminal passing,
A time on our own that we all
One-time
Will share.
And watching the out-breath,
Inspired by breathing
Awareness and awe
Conjure up relaxation,
Which flows through the body,
But can disappear
If I follow the mind flick
From this to that thought,
And engage with this talk.

Watching the chests rise and fall,
Relaxation deepens
And travels down
To where my feet sense the ground
And the history and pull of the earth below.
If we recognise the gentle love
That flows on the breath
Then our hearts can fly,
And our thoughts be stilled,
And we can become a mind
More empty than full.


Ink Well Meditation

Stream babble of thought,
Backwash of sounds
Spoken in a Language that no longer means anything to me.
Passing chatter of a crowd
Coming through and past me
Like shoppers through a store.
Whispers of Boredom
And tuneless La La la-ing
Letting me know
That I am thinking
But it is as permanent as clothes on a clothesline
Blown by the untamed winds
Coming from all life’s quarters.
Can I recognise; an Angel’s kiss
Placed on my eyes?
A light from another’s Spirit?
Giving me a Timeless moment
So easily Squandered.
A white feather from a Soul messenger
Wishing a Friend good-luck on their Journey.
A hug of Love and reassurance,
A breath of gentleness,
A Heart-full moment,
Deep breathed and Immortal
Grounded thought our Earth’s shared orbit.
Stream babble of thoughts
Welcomed as a sign;
The end of Winter’s frozen healing
And the start of a river’s new Journey.
This breath I feel now,
This out-breath I feel right now
Will it be the same feeling, same experience,
As the one that will,
Along with all of you
All humankind,
A shared moment felt on ones own,
Will it be the same last welcomed breath
That will not be followed by another in-spiration?

Fuk U Shima Nuclear Plant Disaster - Re-critical....really it's critical

the Tokyo Electric Power Company has warned: "The possibility of re-criticality is not zero"? This means the company says that there is enough fissile uranium, in enough density, to form a critical mass in the cooling pond - meaning that a nuclear fission reaction could start in the building, .........outside the containment shield that surrounds the actual reactor.'

Surprise 'critical' warning raises nuclear fears


I don't like this at all.....this may be the biggest single nuclear contamination incident ever, if the camp-fire of fusion rods, now lit in a concrete open pit beneath an open sky, do melt down and burst into flame........its going to project itself into the atmosphere.......... and the plume will contain actual particles of uranium and plutonium..... Planet go heal thy self?

Fluoride; They didn't and don't tell anyone so

‎'When fluoride is used as an additive for health reasons, it becomes a medicine. As a medicine it requires an informed consent from the individual receiving it. The individual needs to be told what the treatment is for and how it will be conducted. Risks and benefits must be explained. The patient should be told if there are alternative treatments.'


The head of the British Dental Association (see video clip below) can not keep his cool over the issue of mercury based fillings, so what can we expect when we confront him with the unethical and poisonous life time exposure use of highly toxic fluoride in Public Drinking Water, at huge financial cost to the National Health Service; that is you and I!?


And as for letting UK public know about this, whom in the Dental Association, Health Service or Government is responsible for not letting parents KNOW?

INFANT FORMULA
"Infant formulas reconstituted with higher fluoride water can provide 100 to 200 times more fluoride than breastmilk, or cows milk." - Levy SM, Guha-Chowdhury N. (1999). Total fluoride intake and implications for dietary fluoride supplementation. Journal of Public Health Dentistry 59: 211-23.

Fluoride Exposure During Infancy:

In contrast to recommendations adopted in the 1950s, fluoride supplementation is no longer recommended for newborn children. This includes both fluoride in drops, and fluoride in drinking water.

Not only is fluoride ingestion during infancy unnecessary, it can also be harmful - as suggested by a mounting body of evidence linking fluoride exposure during the first year of life with the development of dental fluorosis. (For pictures of dental fluorosis, click here)

Because of the risk for dental fluorosis, and the lack of demonstrable benefit from ingesting fluoride before teeth erupt, the American Dental Association - and a growing number of dental researchers - recommend that children under 12 months of age should not consume fluoridated water while babies under 6 months of age should not receive any fluoride drops or pills.

Fluoridated drinking water contains up to 200 times more fluoride than breast milk (1000 ppb in fluoridated tap water vs 5-10 ppb in breast milk). As a result, babies consuming formula made with fluoridated tap water are exposed to much higher levels of fluoride than a breast-fed infant. (A baby drinking fluoridated formula receives the highest dosage of fluoride among all age groups in the population (0.1-0.2+ mg/kg/day), whereas a breast-fed infant receives the lowest).

Dental fluorosis is not the only risk from early-life exposure to fluoride. A recent review in The Lancet describes fluoride as "an emerging neurotoxic substance" that may damage the developing brain. The National Research Council has identified fluoride as an "endocrine disrupter" that may impair thyroid function, while recent research from Harvard University has found a possible connection between fluoride and bone cancer.

Nuff said, well watch Head of responsibility and think, whom is doing what to whom right now?

You Must Have Vision

From Elaine Speakman

You Must Have Vision

How can you hope to discover the new without the spirit of adventure, without being willing to step fearlessly into the unknown? Where is that pioneering spirit? How can you expect to pioneer something without taking risks, without great strength and courage as well as rock-like faith and belief in what you are doing? You must have vision. No matter how fantastic or seemingly unreal and unattainable that vision may be in the eyes of human beings, you must have it if you are to step into the new and achieve the seemingly impossible.

11 March 2011

Regeneration, Economic benefit, and lies.

So often we hear that new industrial units are the way forward for economically depressed areas, especially those on new land next to the by-pass roads and motorways, which together will bring life back to these hard hit communities.

I am fed up with these lies, which not only cheat the local people, allow land speculators to make big amounts of money, put up short term and cheap and unsustainable buildings, they also ruin the last vestiges of any unspoilt area in a community, taking out the last environmental bio-diversity and pleasant views and areas of green.

So carrying on with the theme of 3 debts, here is what the smoke and mirrors of inward investment in new roads and new industrial units takes us.

Nothing but a waste of the money, monies that should have been used to support local businesses and make the high streets the centre of a new economy, with local opportunity for all to make a living, and even prosper, rather than the better off and better connected laying claim to land speculation, and the building companies trousered all the money for highways, which clearly was a waste of investment, not as it was sold to the people as; the way to a new wealthy and an inclusive economy.

View over an East Lancashire valley

Sheds on the by-pass
Wanking over the politicians’ promise
And road builders’ wet false dreams
Of inward investment; that never came
Spurning the high streets
That were full of shops
Sheds on the by-pass
Gutting the businesses that once had got by
And leaving the old town centre to crumble,
The foot fall to die away
And the closed-down and shops-to-let signs
Sprout like spring bulbs,
Only they will never now turn into flowers.
Sheds on the by-pass;
The mono-crop now failing
Cheap warehousing
light business premises
Thrown up in a rush for rental value
Close to the by-pass and the motorways
The sheds on the By-pass,
Sold as the key to green-shoots signs of recovery
Are half empty, and themselves wilting
Marked by the seal of a motorway lead recovery
That would never come,
Except to the road builders and landowners,
The sheds on the By-pass,
Planted by the thoughtless chase for land price profit making
Sit there morbidly, empty eyed
Cast under the same spell
Of the dying town centre
And terrace empty housing clearance
The Sheds on the by-pass
Cast their economic false shadows
Across the flat lands of the valleys
And the landscape of the hearts of the people.

Welcome Happiness

Today something special happen, at the same time it is quite ordinary.
Later My friend Eileen had this quote on her Facebook page

e.e. cummings wrote:

I thank you God for most this amazing day

for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

and the blue dream of sky

and for everything which is natural

which is infinite

which is yes

Poetry is the bed rock from which all words flow.

As usual in life in the early 21st century, we are always walking in the shadows of giants, and perhaps if lucky walking with them too. The build up of human knowledge is the shoulders on which we stand, too often though this knowledge is all messed up by the powerful, and they always overlook the wisdom that in these times they really should be using as the bed rock of their decision making.

Well it seems the powerful and righteous rich will never stand on the shoulders of the great wisdoms that came before, and will add nothing to the progress of humanity.

In this case, we have to take the steps that are called for, and learn to allow wisdom that is out there to come to us, and try and help this across the void of newspeak consumer lead language, to go to the heart of individual's and the heart of the matters we face.

A personal step:- you too can take a step where you are too.

Welcoming happiness in.
Something uncommon has happened this morning,
Without warning,
Happiness descended upon my consciousness.This stranger,
Brought a smile to my lips and relaxation to my soul.
Like a puff of a breeze on a hot simmering ball breaking day,
The wafted scent of fine raindrops on summer hot pavement slabs,
Caught on my in-breath.
Delicate, ready to fall away,
Stopped me momentarily in my thoughts and dressing routine.
And this time,
I paused.
I recognised the feeling and welcomed in this delicate healing spirit.
And the sylph has stayed a while,
Popping up throughout the day,
Glistening cobwebs dew drops shining a winking smile
When the sun catches them just so.
Reminding me.
That happiness can hang by a spun thin thread
Beyond my making;
But is quick to come in when recognised at the door,
And welcomed.

White frost

Drove from Leeds to Scarborough today,

and the hedges and trees along the route were white frosted lace,

a harsh frost covered all, hanging from the branches and the leaves,

a wondrous site, something I have never seen before,

in trees reaching up 100 feet or more,

sometimes white emerging from freezing fog,

at other times the sky a winter blue,

and along the hedges roes a white covering,

frosted edges reaching across white fields,

white on white emerging from white.

Temperature on the car thermometer was -5 to -7. Check out this weather page;

http://www.wunderground.com/weatherstation/WXDailyHistory.asp?ID=INORTHYO28

Un-sustainable weather patterns?

Is the cold spell and snow caused by the weakening of the gulf stream due to the melting of ice caps and the change in the salt content of the ocean water that drives the gulf stream-, it could also be the change and unpredictability of the jet stream; major cause of the flooding and heat waves we have had over Europe in the last few years, and El Nino this year is the strongest ever recorded in the Pacific ocean, the driver of air patterns across the globe, and our jet stream over the UK!?

banking fraud and political carpet baggers - debt crisis #3

A quick poem on the latest political smoke and the statements of powerful leaders and their cohorts.

A little ruff, but a quick response to some jaw droopingly callous political gaffs today and the responses that came on Facebook.

Life of Riley

Originally the name of a cow that roamed uncontrolled, that nobody would lay claim too, eating and ruining other peoples harvest, smashing their fences and robbing them of their hard graft and contentedly living happily on their labour, which then became a phrase associated with the officer class or anyone who escaped or was away from the frontline whilst drinking and flashing their cash. Also associated with a clan that produced their own money, and lived well on the cash they created

The Life of Riley

I think the political elite are leading a life of Riley,

The drug they are all on is power,

And the depth of their empathy is as deep

As the silvering on the mirrors they check their faces

And smug smiles with in the morning.

The mirror is cracked and their smiles crooked,

the promises made to be broken.

The drug power, one you have to be rich to buy,

they make sure they do not share,

but cut their politics with scapegoat rhetoric.

And they wonder if their conceitedness looks too big

And ask their media meisters if they can fit in

Some care and compassionate time on the media roundabout

Whilst playing the money making game with finances debt profit taking

Whilst the three debts continue their advance.

Finance, environment and energy,

These debts will take no hostages, of this I am sure.

The rich will fare better, and fairness will go to the wall,

As they make merry with the fruits of our harvest,

And contently cud-full wander and trample on the poor.

Progression?

Read this poem at a fairly recent open mike, and still quite like it, so posted it up.

It carries on the theme of sustainability, looking a little at how we as agents of society collude to bring collective avoidance into a shaded room, hidden behind the active parts of our minds. Together we passively let it happen.

The hidden always needing acknowledging, even if we choose to keep it hidden in our lives, or our comfy worlds.

So we make our lives sustainable, yet at the core lies this hidden un-sustainable trip hazard, which we have to carefully avoid; and in this case a sacrifice to allow us to mentally go on with our lives. Well something like that; so occasionally we do need to look at these hidden truths, and perhaps let them act upon the non linguistic, non verbal psyche; remembering without words. remember?

Oh and I do not like celebrity shows; what do they reveal about ourselves?

........................

‎Listen away if you can;

The corpse in the corner of all our eyes.

We squirm at spiders on the floor and some squeal ‘help!’

Rats make us hitch up our clothes and call out ‘something must be done!’

So unhygienic!

But we sit watching celebrities eating squiggly wriggling insects for star points,

And fail to stare at children starving; …………..that is too much.

A bad taste in the mouth; bad and inappropriate television,

Yet children die every minute, and warfare kills,

And squirming at nasty things is normal.

But diversion-rating wars are raging.

You may look me in the eye and ask me, am I any better?

But does that not say it all about us?

Communicating together to ignore the un-acceptable,

Embracing the trivial to our hearts to stop them hurting,

Bleeding from our mind’s eye that child dying,

The mother’s grief howls and whimpering,

Because we just can’t get ourselves to act together

As our feelings are too precious to see what’s real

And humanly, with media’s help

Together we arrange the curtains to hide,

The corpse in the corner of all our eyes.

I am no better; say this out loud!

“I am no better”

But that is no excuse for you or me,

The machine of entertainment the tank of trench warfare

Truth the infantry solders bogged down in a killing ground

Marked out by the media generals,

Spun by the patriots who live for the greatness of it all

And emote on the brave injured and killed,

To fight for the promise of desires that will be fulfilled,

Of wealth beyond that in which we are living,

If we battle on and build the common dream,

Sleep walking through a war we cannot even see,

But in our minds we still see peeping,

The corpse in the corner of all our eyes.

Humans over time have committed the heinous,

Atrocities, land taking, ethnic cleansing and killing,

Raping the pretty, killing the old, ugly and the babies,

Burning our souls to fight for our blood-lines.

But never before have we known the world width of injustice,

Never before have we Capital at our hand,

And stood quietly in the viewing big wheel high up above the landscape

To agree with the Third-Man, that down there they are all so insignificantly small,

That we can snuff out a few of them without worrying, noticing.

We are tightly muffled by the enormity of our own life problems,

We will all simply forget ‘Them’; it is far too difficult to remember,

The corpse that is peeping in the corner of our eyes:

“The corpse that is peeping in the corner of my eye”.

Remember?

Latest update,

Debt History
Sustainability Yours has gone on un-bloging for too long, and then this waking poem came to me whilst working up an old selection of lines, and I remember that I must trust this badly functioning brain of mine to come up with a twist through word sounds and an amalgamation of thoughts that have come up on the 3 debts of our present world (see previous blogs) to present myself with this, which brings in the history of how capital was raised on the abomination that was slavery and the then, and nows', western profit making conceit.

Clearly, although I continue to deprive that part of myself I value most, the unconscious creative non-verbal mind, it still forgives and finds the occasional gap in my life schedule to knock on wood.

The poem suffers a little from 's and s' and -, and is not quite finished, but the power and drive must not be lost, so I put it here for maturation and time's response.

Storm Ships of thought and economy

Blown by the thoughts of what could be done
Torn by what could have been
Weakened by the worn out weft of the cloth of our souls
Broken by the land-safe promise of the political crowd that stand
Bedraggled on the beach-back skeleton of our centuries-old slave-built economy,
The stepped-on white bones buried below and kept from sight, ‘best forgotten’.
Exploited of the further past civilisations and of today’s developing economies,
Old cultures picked clean of succulent convenient exposed value
Polluted by the breath fumes and trace poisons of capital’s amoral promiscuity
Float-bubble-blown by the infernal storm of our internal consumptions desire
Wind hewn and spirit strangled to a thin foam of itself,
Scum spewn by the phosphate spin of refined industrial entertainment
Meddled with, played with, defiled, groomed and dominated by digital media moguls,
Minds and emotions left storm thrown and immovable, gutted and exhausted,
Dragged to the breath-blown bottom by the drowning bankers’ debt crutch-hold.
Tossed back onto the pebble beach where once optimism stood,
Waiting to sail on to a new new-world, before the political crowded chorus formed,
All blown and spittle and impotent righteousness now,
As investment bleeds from industry’s body to speculators sure-bet vision promise.
Centuries of wealth, dissolving back into the beach-gravel
As capital’s waves sucking retreat
Leaves nothing to make a payment to the Crown Court of energy and pollution debt.
Bailiffs standing outside our flimsy homes, not bothering to enter,
As there is nothing of worth to secure against the planet’s injunction,
The wealth spent up by the thriftless wastrels of humanities breed,
Not available to be lent to the impoverished salt-killed spent-lands of tomorrow,
All that’s left of the storm-blown corporate-hijacked ship of prosperity’s dream
All that is left of the planet’s ship of souls.
Sail blown and rudder broken on the wave topped defences of capital’s rip-tide played dance,With only our lives as whim’s counters, to drown or swim, to wave or cry.

ME Man Walking

It has been a long while since posting. Holding down a job, family and my inner world is tough, tougher when you have Myalgic Encephalitis (ME) and energy is the currency of consciousness and thought.

Like the world debt, the 3 debts of;
monetary debt;
energy debt and
environmental debt,
without these energies all becomes harder to do, there is collateral, damage and suffering, financially, prosperity and pollution’s death of a thousand cuts.

Well ME is similar as this, only embedded in the personal: physical, mental and conscious. Unhealthy and mind and body numbing.

When it struck me down at the end of 2005, all was lost, and quality of life stolen like a house repossessed by the bank.

See my first poem below on the first wave of devastation and energy starvation, just what will happen to our modern society on this planet soon?

Certainly, as I say in the title and at the end, I am not the voluntary lost, and I think we are all 'not the voluntary lost' in these times of 3 debts coming home, we will all feel like this before the end of my lifetime, not from an illness like my ME, but from the failure of our leaders to address the real 3 debt crisis. God damn it, we even have radar to see the icebergs, but we go on sailing the Titanic of our civilisation at as fast a speed as we can, straight towards the rock of reality that will hole us way below the water line.



Not the voluntary lost
Stage #1
My Myalgic Encephalitis ( M.E.)

I've got the decorators in, but I never invited them here.
They've torn back the wallpaper in uneven slices,
Left ruffled layers of dampened past memories hanging,
Then gone home with paint cans and brushes left out.
I've got the builders in, unwelcomed,
With plans I have not been informed of.
Knocking down walls, breaking plaster and cracking views,
Rearranging the rooms in my slowly ceasing mind.
I can't find my mental list of things to do;
I have looked in all the memory draws I can find,
Everything crammed in and covered by the shadowy weight
Of moving paperwork and once new clothes.
What's left has all been stir-shifted, piled up on the floor,
Or hidden under clueless dustsheets. . .. . ., or broken,. . .. . .. or skipped.
Even I seem different now, not the person I had been.
I haven't the physical or mental strength to move, to wave,
Drowning, stuck in this ocean of verbal inability, cut off.
Me... that is I... am not the voluntary lost.

Sustainability and Poems

Poems have the unique challenge; of trying to say what can not be said in words.

We ourselves are often left with the everyday chatter of the verbal mind, the oppressive history maker and commentator of our own media inner world. We need to become more sustainable, to hand over power and decision making to the non verbal aspects of our minds, bodies and soul.

For me, sustainability in ourselves is allowing the understanding that is presently gagged because it does not use words, to come out into the summer sun and kick its heals as did the mining ponies when they were brought up on their annual excursions from the always dark mine tunnels to the meadows up by the pit head.

We can in ourselves uproot and transplant the broken children of our emotions and spiritual lives, presently struggling in the cast out rocky unnourished lands, to stand in the fertile soils, the water chattered and sun drawn land of regrowth and loving care.

We can not command this to happen with sentences created in the mind, with agendas, policy statements and on-message dross. But we can use the word medium weapons of the oppressors by creating poetry that is dipped in the magic of humanity, keeping these vision and waking dreams alive in our heads. The rhythm of the words and their meaning trickle through, the mind drops its 24/7 tell tail security, and the words become meanings greater than the sum of the word count whole.

Here are 3 to go ............ do you want fries with that?



Do the Dead need a Passport?

Do the dead need a passport?
No rictus smile photo
No physical characteristic
No distinctions at all
All become the same, for once and ever more.
Memories in others conciseness.
Do we sit on their bones
Or stand upon their shoulders?



The Circus has taken over the Asylum

The Circus has taken over the Asylum,
Lifestyle is the new Entertainment,
Fast Food is the new Bread;
How's your appetite now that it's Formula Formulaic?
Desire is the everyday new Requirement,
Spending the new cut Drug,
Credit the new word for Debt;
Can you juggle or ride bareback?
If you can do neither, I am not interested:
Tough.........................................................................................................next................



Washing away those tears
Funeral of my father, January 06

We all see people differently from where we each do stand,
And sometimes too emotionally close
We suffer from intimate bad sight lines.
The cutting razor of challenging intellect,
The drive of our passion and our blood,
Divided us behind pools of stagnant unasked questions
And sea barriers of emotional soft unbidden soul drifted sand.
They hold back parental closeness
With a ruthless, smothering cold hand.

And time, the healer through learning,
Or pacifier through memories gradual loss,
Either sharpens one's true feelings,
Or blunts us with soft pillows of so much dross.
The Reaper's arm is moving closer
Father taken in this year's crop.
My love for the old man has flown stronger,
As the sands banks and marsh he was safe behind
Are swept away by the flood tide
Of my grieving, howls, tears and sobs.

Number 6 has left the Village.

Number 6 has left the Village.


......... a moment of quietness comes just before the patrol bubble hops into view to take away the dream of escape, and the open view across the sand and towards the clear horizon is now spoilt by the intrusion of this ultimate symbol of society's control of the individual,


Perhaps we all seek to lose the identity we are given minute by minute by our own internal dialogue, and hour by hour by our friends, work colleagues and the endless string of images from the TV, press, radio and the interweb. No 6 only had the village radio, a few fellow citizens, public meetings at the village hall, and the frequent meetings with the ever changing No 2.


Mental fitness has a State stamp of approval nowadays, like the physical fitness that is a requirement apparently to enter the upper hierarchy of moneyed life style for the business executives...

So some sort of mental and emotional attribute is something we all should encourage to face the tough years of a bottom grinding economy, but really we need mental strength to be realistic enough to know that we are all bozos on this bus. That we all give a meaning to one another, and that it is not always a pleasant and attractive face looking back at us from the mirror in the morning.

We need an appropriate attitude in the breakdown of the spoon fed, hyper re-enforcing world that is shaking to its boots.

What do you want?
Innnnnnfformmmmmmmaaaaation
You're not going to get it!

Each breath that you take

It really is this close. Yes this close. A hairbreadth. A relaxing breath away. Taking the first step towards reducing the harm you and your family and friends are doing to the planet, to other people, to the future of our children, is not a physical or financial burden. It is simply accepting that the resources of the planet are not infinite. That's it! We can see the planet from space, and it don't go on forever.

We do not live forever; the planet's resources are finite. We have to get all our energy and materials within the planet’s budget, which is lovingly, toped up each day by the Sun. The only issue is one that the majority of people in the world are familiar with. We are overdrawn on our credit, well in debt, and we can’t keep up the payments. Somethings have got to change, and make the first things the easy ones.

That's it. Take a deep breath, and breath out. Forget for a moment your everyday worries, and just remember; the world is in environmental debt. Yup, no spare change in the bank. Take one day at a time and welcome to the world of Sustainability. Welcome to the Global Village where this debt can be cleared once and for all. Its just a matter of understanding, and the issues and changes needed are really very simple to understand.