No longer an activist; no longer an Earth First!er.

Activist has been my identity since I fought the dress code in high school and was sent home to change, seething at the hypocrisy of it, the requirement that women wear skirts, and in all weather, and little girls too, hampering their play.  Pissed me off.

And locking my neck to the front axle of a roadgrader to stop an astrophysical development on Mount Graham was another highlight of my life, far more important to me than any of the awards and recognitions I frequently won in the mainstream world.

In fact, I often chose activism over other more professionally-enhancing and money-earning work I could have done, leaving me today among the poorest of the poor people on Social Security.  Oh well. 

I’m proud of my life.  There are not many choices I regret.  And I saved some habitat on that mountain, as well as a historic elementary school that anchors a large, mostly Hispanic neighborhood, helped victims and perpetrators of domestic violence, helped get a couple of community radio stations launched, and helped change the dress code.  A better world.

But I think I’ve got to change my business card.  I’m no longer an activist.  And I’m not feeling all that smiley these days.

Activism assumes we can effect change.  And I think we’re spinning toward that drain just a little too fast to keep telling myself, We’ll pull out of this, we’ll pull out.  I’ve exhausted all my optimism.

I think we’re going through it.  And I expect to find it a portal.  So I’m putting my hopes on the Other Side.

And that’s why I’m no longer an Earth First!er (though I’ve stayed away ever since I found out I was a mind control subject twelve years ago; I didn’t want to risk sabotaging the work in a mind-controlled state).

And I love this Earth, but it seems to me that the secret Controllers have poisoned the air, earth, and water, fractured underground aquifers, sterilized the soil, planted unknown numbers of bombs who knows where, and modified our basic food crops to cause cancer and not reproduce.  It doesn’t take a scientist to recognize a pattern.

I believe the Controllers are holding a total liquidation sale of the planet, including the people, of course, who are already used to thinking of themselves as human resources.  And it seems that any of us living things left will have greatly diminished chances of survival.  Maybe this is protocol for galactic entrepreneurs, like American housewives using bleach-water on the counters after cleaning.

All the world’s financiers are making very short-term decisions.  (I’m making short-term decisions now.)  All the wealthiest entities seem to be participating in this liquidation, so I think it’s time to wrap our heads around the idea of leaving the Earth and thinking about where we’re going in the next place or dimension.

Instead of active, now I’m passive, knitting in front of the fireplace, thinking, praying, petting the cat, pondering heavy stuff, feeling it’s all going to be okay.

~

Now, maybe I’m unnecessarily dark.  Maybe things are better than we know – and especially better than I can know – after all, I was trained with torture, so I do tend to have more fundamental distrust of people.

Maybe it’s the time of the Nine of Swords — darkest just before the dawn.  And the worst of humanity, the worst, most demonic stuff that has been allowed to play out on this planet for the last 10,000 years, like capitalism and patriarchy, have had their day and will soon be over.  And we’ll get extra-dimensional help, or the Permaculturalists will design the environmental remediation, mushrooms will eat all the poisons, and we’ll all work together to feed everyone while reversing all the devastation.

…I used to work toward a similar scenario when I learned and promoted Permaculture, community mediation, and all the other skills I thought important for helping evolve a new culture.  But so much that I’ve attempted has been sabotaged.  And the stealing of children goes on.

And someone still, for over a decade now, leaves me with burns, bruises, biopsy “scoop marks,” other scars, and exhaustion during the night, but no memories.  So pardon me if I’m dark.

I’m sorry, Everyone loving your life on Earth, but I’m not sad to see things going down the drain.  Capitalism – and all the child rape, child porn, and sexual slavery it has justified and promoted for way too long – must go.  And I’m certainly ready to get out of here myself, thank you.

So, I’ll be sitting by my fire, passively knitting and thinking, It’s all gonna be okay.