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~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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Tag Archives: environment

Wristwatch

23 Monday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, poetry, politics, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

celerity, ecology, environment, life, mindfulness, poem, poetry, politics, time, truth, virus

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What is this?

A gift. 

A wristband watch.

How convenient.

For someone.

For me?

I wonder…

It’s a kind of a band

(A bit like a slave band)

A bit of a rift,

Between me and me

men s suit and accessories

Photo by malcolm garret on Pexels.com

If you see; 

Get my drift.

It’s kind of sand

In my shoe

Keeping me from other things

And it rings

In my ear

That a land

Where all that stands

Is the least pernicious example

Is but a silly sweet example

Of things to come.

“Hurry to the hippodrome!

Never mind the cost.”

Never mind what’s lost

Never mind what land

We conquer to expand

The land that … sorry….

Didn’t mean to mention that…

The land of the free…

I hope that is an okay phrase,

An acceptable phrase.

Because the thing that worries me

Is not forty-five per se, 

Oh, 

No.  

I know.

No.

What bothers me is this:

That a part of me says, “hiss”

On cue.

And then I say “Boo!”

And either way, 

It’s Putin’s day. 

men in black and red cade hats and military uniform

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Oh, yes.  We are quite the quintessential conquestadoro.

Les hommes mucho macho

Let’s salsify the nacho

Let’s wolf down some state or other.

Sorry, meant to say steak or other…

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Slyly, slyly, you may perceive

That I, 

Much like our current reality,

Make no sense.  

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Granted, 

But I have no pretensions of being

Chiseled into Mount Rushtoomuchmore

Just because I gave away 

The U S A 

To those who hanker-danker for oil.

“Oil.”

Isn’t that a lovely word?

I like the sound.

Silky, deep, and dark. 

gray industrial machine during golden hour

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“Oil.”

I love the stuff. 

Titusville, Pennsylvania as I recall

Was the happening place to be.

Nearly, West Virginia and Ohio 

Came to blows over it.

But we got over it.

Clear over the rainbow.

All the way to where the sun don’t shine

To where instead monkeyshines

Rule the day,

And check 

And slay.

Say! 

My watch alarm now is screaming: 

woman holding burning newspaper

Photo by Jhefferson Santos on Pexels.com

“Way past time to play! 

All hands on deck! 

You’re making a wreck

Of every day! 

Your addictive greed

Grew a wicked weed!

Thoughts flash between sulcus and gyrus

Showing us how to beat the virus,

We must hunker down and work as one

For just this once until it’s done.

Then, we go and green this globe 

Let’s use once more that frontal lobe!”

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———————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

 

COVID-19

12 Thursday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, health, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

coronavirus, COVID-19, environment, exercise, health, healthcare, life, pandemic, wellness

COVID-19

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We interrupt our regularly scheduled blog posts to address our health crisis. 

It’s quite natural for us to want to survive as individuals, so what can we do to maximize our chances of survival? 

Much of the advice you’ve already heard is valid. 

  • Avoid unnecessary travel and gathering in groups. 
  • Telecommute.
  • Wash your hands frequently and thoroughly. 
  • Make and use some alcohol wipes. 
  • Use gloves.
  • You may want to implement the “left hand dirty, right hand clean” rule (which already exists in many countries). That is, if you must touch a public surface without having the opportunity to immediately wash, or in case you forget, use your left hand. Use your right hand for eating, rubbing your eyes, etc. Better is to disinfect immediately, or even better avoid touching public surfaces without gloves.
  • Don’t touch your face. I personally find this pretty much impossible, but I have cut down. 

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As someone that began life with many respiratory infections, I’ve devised a few additional things to help prevent myself from getting sick. I am not a medical doctor. I am not advising you to do these things, but I will report below on what works based mainly on my own experience. Your mileage may differ.

Eat healthy foods. Make sure you eat as healthily as you possibly can. Avoid refined sugar as much as possible. Include lots of fiber. A so-called Mediterranean diet is good. You may include fish, lots of fresh vegetables and fresh fruit. Typically, whole foods are better than vitamins. Garlic and shiitake mushrooms may be especially helpful for the immune system. When exposed to a cold, I typically cut cloves of garlic and inhale the fumes. It seems to help with a cold. I don’t know that it will help with COVID-19, but I’m going to keep doing it.

cooked meat with vegetables

Photo by Dana Tentis on Pexels.com

Exercise. I have found this greatly reduces my chances of getting a cold. You probably do not want to go to a gym, however, because it will greatly increase your exposure. Better would be walking or running in fresh air or doing yoga or dancing at home. If you’ve been sedentary for the past months or years, you don’t want to try to “make up for it” by suddenly running a marathon. Small steps. But even if you’re out of shape, at home watching TV, get up and stretch, pace, use your own body as resistance, find some free easy yoga or stretching tapes. 

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Stay positive. Your mental health impacts your physical health. Yes, we face a kind of crisis, but being depressed, angry, or anxious will not help you. You do want to be vigilant and concerned, but also calm, cool, and collected. Make sure you give love and get love. Enjoy some comedy. Engage in activities that you love but that are also safe in terms of avoiding crowds. Your body contains about 70 trillion cells! You’ve evolved over 4.5 billion years! Every one of your ancestors lived long enough to reproduce. I don’t just mean those folks who wore bear skins and sat around campfires. Way before that, every little critter on land, every fish in the sea, every microbe in the ocean — they all survived all sorts of attempts to kill them off — chances are good that you will too. And, in the unlikely chance you don’t, you may as well enjoy your own life and do good for others and for life on the planet, not just during this pandemic, but always. 

cascade creek environment fern

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Stay hydrated. Since you will be spending more time at home, this should be fairly easy. 

woman drinking from glass

Photo by Adrienn on Pexels.com

Get some sunshine. Recent studies indicate that sunlight not only helps you make vitamin D; it also helps your body produce nitric oxide. Both help your immune system. 

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Salt showers. I noticed that I seldom got sick when I was near the seashore. Then, about 20 years ago, I ran across a very old book from John Harvey Kellogg about his sanitarium in Battle Creek. One of the things he recommended was salt showers. I routinely do this and I think it helps me avoid colds and sinus infections. Will it help with COVID-19? I have no idea. But I’m going to keep doing it. When I take a shower, I simply sprinkle the floor of the shower with iodized salt. 

woman in white towel standing in front of the mirror

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Find and enjoy beauty. I obviously don’t mean head to a museum. Look for beauty in your garden or in your house or on-line. Listen to music, especially music that is upbeat and energetic. If you can’t find any beauty, create some. Paint, draw, write, take photos. 

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Learn something. Most companies and individuals spend way too much resource trying to maximize productivity based on what they know now. If you have a forced pause in that, use the time to learn something new. 

earth space universe globe

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Make a contribution. Human beings are social animals. If you are making a contribution, you will tend to stay healthier. That contribution could be pretty much anything. It includes making others feel better; creating art; helping others by virtue of your work; giving a financial contribution; growing food; making a meal; washing clothes; loving your kids; staying positive. 

man hug pinnochio photo

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Plan your path; practice pathogen paranoia. Treat every doorknob, handrail, light switch, car door, mobile phone, computer keyboard, ATM, shopping cart, etc. that you touch as being contaminated with COVID-19. It may not be true quite yet, but it will be soon. So, take precautions now and change your behavior now. It’s not so easy as you might think to avoid touching your face, doorknobs, etc. so start practicing now. 

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———————————-

Author Page on Amazon. 

The Declaration of Interdependence. 

The Myths of the Veritas (which explore #Leadership #ethics and #empathy). 

An Introduction to the Pattern Language for Cooperation and Collaboration. 

An Index to the Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation. 

Your interconnectedness to all life on this planet. 

There’s a pill for that. 

Fit in Bits suggests numerous ways to work more exercise into daily life. I wrote this way before the current pandemic. Be sure to avoid touching public surfaces.

 

Peace

07 Saturday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 28 Comments

Tags

ecology, environment, green, life, love, peace, poem, poetry, truth, war

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All the guns are silent now;
Landmines, all defused, exhumed.
Warships, mothballed; warplanes, scuttled;
Missiles, bombs, and tanks, entombed. 

Across the world, hands are held
And faces face the clearing sky
In silent prayer, in wonderment.
No-one quite remembers why 

It once seemed great to shoot to kill.
No-one gets that deadly thrill.
No-one cares to take that hill.
No-one wishes others ill. 

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Instead, the people turn their mind
Inside to see what they can find
Of ignorance within their skin
And mine their souls to conquer sin. 

No-one throws the stones at others;
Hands are used to help instead;
Someone speaks and someone listens;
Around the world, each kid is fed. 

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Slowly now we heal the earth;
Slowly now we heal our soul;
Surely now we tend our hearth;
Finally now we have a goal 

Worthy of humanity:
Not to overcome each other —
We work together to save our Mother,
And never wake those Dogs of War. 

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Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

Essay on Peace, War, and Greed.

Don’t they realize how much better off they are now?

02 Monday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

colonialism, environment, exploitation, Global South, life, poem, poetry, truth

cascade creek environment fern

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The people, true, they may have been in bliss,
Fishing, hunting, laughing all the while,
Greeting each the other with a smile.
But listen to my vision, listen to this:
I see customers! I see consumers! I see cash!
A way to keep our profit from a crash.

pile of gold round coins

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Let’s demonstrate our agribusiness joys,
Export industrial wastes and noise!
I see markets for cigarettes and cow’s milk!
You can hardly call it a rip-off, a bilk,
Because they will be so much better off
If they drink themselves to Korsakov.

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And yet it sometimes happens in a craze,
These people — they don’t realize their days
Are so much better now than once they were.
They get to smell the smoke and hear the whirr;
Smoke camels; watch re-runs; drink Miller Lite;
And work in factories under cool florescent light!

photo of landfill

Photo by Leonid Danilov on Pexels.com


Author Page on Amazon

Series of posts on stories and storytelling. 

A sample story from Turing’s Nightmares.

A sample story from Tales from an American Childhood. 

When cultures collide: The Myths of the Veritas. 

Fire and Ice

27 Thursday Feb 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, story, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

empathy, environment, fable, fire, greed, hate, ice, life, love, myth, story

orange flame

Photo by Francesco Paggiaro on Pexels.com

Fire: “What are you doing here? Fool. I’m god on earth now. You’re neither wanted nor needed. It’s over.”

Ice: “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

Fire: “Bah. In war, it is I who kills. Flame-throwers, the gunpowder propelling bullets, bombs, and best of all, but rarely used, atomic fire. Oh, it warms my heart to see all that death and destruction.”

Ice: “Yes, but I am your best partner, though you know it not.”

ice formation

Photo by Simon Matzinger on Pexels.com

Fire: “You? Hah. Okay, I grant you, frostbite and cold have destroyed the bodies of many. Napolean and Hitler and Lord knows who else’s armies. But still.”

Ice: “No, you’re foolish and rambling as ever. I’m not talking about how I can help you kill. I’m talking about how I prepare the ground for you. Make people not care. Encourage the turning of a cold shoulder, a blind eye. Without me, people might never turn to you. Without me, how could they contemplate intentionally ignoring the truth? How could they embrace the litany of lies that lead to war? Who would willingly kill others if they clearly saw how useless and cruel it all was?”

Fire: “Yeah, yeah. I doubt it. Fire begets fire. Hate begets hate. What does your little chill of indifference have to do with it? Be gone or I’ll melt you to water. Boil you to steam.”

Ice: “Perhaps. But I might douse you to smoldering embers. I suggest you think about it. We can work as partners. Each making the other stronger. Actually, we have been partnering, but I’ve never gotten the credit I deserve! You’ve ignored me too long.”

men s black and white checkered shirt

Photo by Guduru Ajay bhargav on Pexels.com

Fire: “Hah! Not nearly so much as you have ignored me! You’re useless without me!”

Ice: “Fine, if that’s the way you feel, then this is goodbye! Forever.”

Humanity decided to open its heart; embrace empathy; dismiss the lies of “other” and instead loved everyone as sister and brother. Fire shook his coronal locks in disdain and slunk off to reinvigorate himself in the core of a distant star.

Ice regained his rightful throne at the poles of the spinning emerald and sapphire planet. He abandoned the heart of humanity. Unbridled greed became nothing but the shadowy memory of a bad drug trip or a recurring nightmare — still scary to contemplate, but powerless to destroy the trajectory of life’s grand and glorious growth.

earth space universe globe

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 


Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

Hauntings Across the Time Zones

18 Tuesday Feb 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

activism, apathy, Democracy, environment, poetry, politics, Resistance, Veritas

{You may have noticed that what follows is neither a furtherance of the narrative of The Myths of the Veritas, nor an essay about America. But somehow it seems relevant to both. The poem seems to reflect how many people in America currently feel …. and it also reflects what the Veritas would not do.

Hauntings Across the Time Zones

Caught between a rock and a hard place,
I just try to keep busy.
Busy, busy, blocking out the voices,
Surrounding them with noise.
Busy, busy, blocking out the images,
Enveloped in a flashy Vegas fog.

Surf the web and watch TV,
Mobile phone and rushing traffic,
Fast food and faster planes,
Double or nothing,
Promotion and prozac in equal doses.

Yet, instants pop though the time-warp.
I hear my anscestors moaning behind the fridge,
They waver on the overheated car hood.
“Greed never captured what it’s all about.”
Their hoarse multitudinous whispers carry far
Like a stadium roar across a winter’s frozen lake.

Then, an echo from behind the Dieffenbachia maculata:
The possible children of the future asking,
“Will we have water? Will we have bread?
Will we have air? Will we have plutonium? Why are you selling our birthright
For a bowl of plastic?”

Now, I hear the workers in the arches of my running shoes.
Some of them are surprisingly young or old.

But never mind.
I find
Again the busy keys,
Blocking out eternities.
The path is very narrow —
I must travel like an arrow.
I look nor left nor right
I see only black and white.


Cancer Always Loses in the End

12 Wednesday Feb 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, health, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 45 Comments

Tags

cancer, Corruption, Dictatorship, environment, fascism, Hitler, learning, Mussolini, pollution, Rule of Law

I would have to suppose that 45’s supporters are very happy tonight. The President tweeted that his friend Roger Stone had been treated unfairly and should get a lighter sentence. Roger Stone has been at “dirty tricks” his entire career. (This man was convicted in court. He not only lied under oath and failed to keep his promise not to comment on the case but even sought to intimidate other witnesses). 

But #45 tweets to let him off easy and Bill Barr demands it. Four long-time competent prosecutors quit the case. Yay! A win for #45! 

That’s a win for #45 in precisely the same way that it’s a “win for a cancer cell” who manages to hide from surgery or recover from chemotherapy. Make no mistake. Whatever lies you have chosen to believe about #45, he is not on your payroll. Just as cancer cells are capable of misleading and misdirecting the body’s immune system from destroying them, so too #45 has used, among other things, Fox News, pep rallies, lies, and Russian bot accounts and fake news propagation through social media to convince the immune system of the country to treat him as a legitimate member of society. A cancer cell is not a legitimate member of your body. #45 is not a legitimate politician. He doesn’t do a brilliant job of competing; he does a brilliant job of cheating. 

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Cancer though? Cancer is stupid. Sometimes, the immune system is not fooled or the surgery works or the radiation works or the chemo works and the rogue liver cell dies along with all its neighbors. Or, cancer succeeds and produces more and more cancer cells. Cancer will eventually kill its host body. And, then it dies anyway. If had kept being a decently functioning liver cell, it would have been a part of the tree of life that extends and grows. 

Instead, that liver cell’s overblown sense of self-importance led it to stop functioning as a liver cell and instead simply spend its time sucking all the resources possible to itself and grow without bound. 

As you know, if you have cancer in any part of your body, there’s a chance that it will spread to other parts and, if unchecked, it will spread to every part. 

photo of landfill

Photo by Leonid Danilov on Pexels.com

It isn’t just government that grows corrupt when the government is corrupt. It’s every organ of the society. You like watching the Academy Awards? Will it be more fun when you know that the “Best Picture Award” (and all the others) will be determined by Putin? Will it be more fun when the “Best Pictures” aren’t even made because they don’t win the favor of the “National Cultural Purity Board.” 

Will you enjoy the Super Bowl, or the World Series or the Kentucky Derby when the outcome is determined ahead of time by politicians? Don’t you think that the managers will work as hard? Will the officials care as much about the accuracy of their calls? Will the athletes train as hard or try as hard? 

Will technologists and industrialists work hard and think hard to improve products and customer service? Why? What’s the point? The brands that will succeed are the ones that are favored by the most powerful. 

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Corruption, like cancer, spreads everywhere. At some point, the dysfunction grows so large that the body politic dies. The society devolves into Civil War, anarchy, or it falls like a ripe plum into the waiting hand of the man who got #45 Putin office.

Will you even remember what it was like to taste an organic, vine-ripened tomato, or have a free & fair election, or a fair athletic contest, or a fair trial, or trust in the police to help you when you’re in trouble? 

Cancer doesn’t care. It feels good. For awhile. It gets a richer blood supply than it used to! It can grow faster! Whoopee! But — of course — it only lasts for awhile. The tumor can’t go hunting and gathering. The tumor can’t prepare a meal or even digest the meal. Cancer needs the body for its survival — but it imagines it doesn’t and thereby kills itself. 

Some people treat everything as a zero sum game. In life, however, many situations are win/win scenarios. Cancer, however, is not a “win/win” or a zero sum game. It’s a lose/lose situation. The cancer always dies and sometimes so does its victim. But even if the body recovers, the body is harmed, often irreparably. 

So, too, corruption is a lose/lose scenario. Rigged horse races lead to hurting horses, jockeys, and fans. Those who “control” the outcome lose too. They become greedy and rig more and more until no-one has any interest any more. 

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Original drawing by Pierce Morgan

Cancer is stupid. 


Author Page on Amazon

Cancer and Air Pollution

Cancer and Water Pollution

Cancer and Food Additives

Pollution and Autoimmune Disease

Click to access CAPH1_Parallel_sessions_III.3_3_AP_major_risk_factor_for_cancer_Weiderpass.pdf

Return from the Old Place

04 Tuesday Feb 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, creativity, politics, psychology, Veritas

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

environment, legend, myth, nature, Resistance, story, tale, weapons

horse and foal at field

Photo by Elina Sazonova on Pexels.com

Many Paths led the small group back toward the Center Place of the Veritas. She contrived to walk near Cat Eyes and Cat Eyes walked behind Jaccim. Thus, Many Paths continued a sort of dialogue with Jaccim. 

“Ask him if the mother horse loves her baby horse.” 

Cat Eyes quickened her step till she walked close to Jaccim. She noticed that he seemed fairly recovered from his injuries. 

“Oh, yes! Very much!” Cat Eyes translated back to Many Paths who then elaborated this idea by asking about all sorts of animals. When she judged that the mind and heart of Jaccim were both prepared, she shifted to a related but different topic. 

“It seems to me the natural order of things. The natural place of adults is to care for children, not to enslave them. We want to teach them but we don’t want to harm them. Ever. Every living thing has a pattern. A pine tree grows in the pine tree pattern. An oak tree grows in the oak pattern. A grape vine grows in the grape vine pattern.” 

in distant photo of tree on landscape field

Photo by Sebastian Beck on Pexels.com

A long conversation ensued between Cat Eyes and Jaccim. At last, Cat Eyes looked back over her shoulder to Many Paths. “I think he understands. He understood after I gave your specific examples. I don’t know of a way to say ‘the natural order’ or ‘the natural place’ in ROI. That doesn’t surprise me. They have little respect for the way things are in nature.” 

Cat Eyes walked another hundred yards in silence. At last, she spoke again, loudly enough for all of them to hear. “It is as though everything in nature is there for them to use…to steal for their own use. So, perhaps it is not surprising that they also steal children away from their parents.” 

Many Paths furrowed her brow. She shook her head. She thought about it and thought about her dream and the dream of She Who Saves Many Lives. She looked out over the beautiful plain below and felt a hollow in her chest much as she felt when Shadow Walker and Tu-Swift were away and possibly dead. Her sorrow and worry now were not for the two people she most loved, but for her the entire tribe whom she loved. If these people who cared not for nature — these people who stole other people’s children… if they had killing sticks and they were numerous and cruel, this might all be destroyed — all the beauty, all of nature, all of the Veritas. Everyone and everything that she loved. Gone.

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For a moment, she pointed her hand toward Jaccim’s back. Her nostrils flared and she saw flames shoot from her hands and burn him badly. Then, Many Paths shook her head to wipe the fantasy from her mind. She felt she had reason to hate these ROI and the only one in sight was Jaccim. Yet, she may need him in more ways than one. 

A more central reason for her sudden anger was that she seemed completely unable to understand this man’s heart. She had all seven rings of empathy and she still had no idea how he could look at the world the way it seemed he did. But she must try. What if there were some useful truth in the way he looked at the world even though it was distasteful to her? And, even if that turned out not to be the case, it was certainly the case that understanding the way he thought would be of enormous use in case of war, or, in case of slavery. She had to try, for the sake of everyone she loved, to try to understand this man’s heart and mind. It is clear, Many Paths suddenly thought to herself — I must learn this man’s language. “Cat Eyes!” 

“Yes?” 

“I want you to teach me ROI. Will you?”

“Certainly. But really, you should learn from Jaccim. He knows it much better and he speaks with the … the flourish of the way the words are spoken. Perhaps…perhaps it would be good for everyone to know all the languages, at least some. Do you think so, Many Paths?”

“Yes. I certainly do.” Then, Many Paths thought to herself, how can the people do all that needs to be done though? She had taken the lead for awhile and suddenly a hart leapt across her path only a short distance ahead. She was thrilled with the beauty of the deer — as though all the parts worked together with the single goal of staying alive. That’s what we need to do with the Tribe as well, I think. Yes. I must explain all the plans, but different persons of the Veritas will be responsible for different parts. But we will all know the whole of it. And I may not even know all the parts we need, but there’s already a fair number. 

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There is the matter of the Killing Sticks. We need to know more about them, but we also need to begin thinking about other weapons in case we cannot get them. Eagle Eyes would be good for that. But…she’d also be important in leading reconnaissance to the Walled Camp of the Z-Lotz, both because she’d been there and because of her superior eyesight. I could lead the thinking on alternative weapons, at least until we know more about the nature of the Killing Sticks. Some of the Veritas, but not all, should put energies into knowing as much as possible about these people who seem not to care about nature. But they are of nature. How can this be? How can this be? It is like a child hating his own mother. Perhaps that is why they steal people’s children. Perhaps such a child hates their own mother for not protecting them. Then, such a person might also not feel the truth of their connection to the Tree of Life. Yet, Cat Eyes seems all right. She’s not … disconnected. I think it’s time for a talk with She Who Saves Many Lives. 

Many Paths reflected ruefully that her usual joy in walking back toward the Center Place of the Veritas was marred by her own thoughts. Once she decided to lead the group that would think about weapons, she could not turn that stream off. Instead of noticing the brilliant pink glow of some Lady Slippers growing near a stream, she thought of their medicinal properties as a soporific. She began to wonder how much would be required to poison opposing warriors, or, if it came to that, slave-owners. Poppy Pods could be used the same way. Cat Eyes had said that some of the slave children of the Z-Lotz had found ways to thwart their overseers. She herself had managed to sicken those who “owned” her. She had never used enough poison to kill anyone, not because she would feel guilty, but because it would increase the chances of being found out. She would typically contrive, not to sicken everyone in a family, but one person at a time, so that every few weeks, one or the other would find themselves retching all day or unusually tired. That way, her captors had simply assumed an illness was working its way through the family. She would feign these symptoms herself so as to avoid suspicion. 

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And, now, instead of enjoying the delicate blooms of the Lady Slippers for their own sake, Many Paths found herself eyeing everything in the field and the forest as a possible tool — a weapon of defense or offense. Wasn’t this frame of mind exactly what the ROI themselves did? And, according to Cat Eyes, this was also the true way that the most powerful and richest among the Z-Lotz viewed the world. Though they would put on a show of being consumed with piety, they were constantly scheming to get more through work or artifice or treachery. 

Many Paths wondered if she was simply feeding the bad wolf within herself. Would she become so consumed with how to destroy the lives of those who would kill or enslave the Veritas that she herself would lose the capacity to feel for others? Was there a path to peace that did not run through the fire of war? I must speak of this with She Who Saves Many Lives, she thought again. And, I will speak of this with Shadow Walker as well. Perhaps he and I can help each other keep the light of love alive through the coming trials. 

Shadow Walker had said that the People Who Steal Children had made no effective attempt to cover their trail. Perhaps they had spent so long plotting and scheming to get more that they no longer saw the impact of their own actions on the world. Or, perhaps, they could still cover their trail but believed so much in the superiority of their numbers and their weapons that they didn’t bother. Maybe hiding hoof prints is just too difficult and time consuming. She did not want to become a person who saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing except for how it furthered or did not further her plans to hurt others. 

Maybe, she reflected, there is a way to turn the minds of the Z-Lotz back to pleasurable things and back toward harmony. She Who Saves Many Lives had tried to do this with POND MUD and ALT-R. But they were somehow beyond — it seemed they had fallen in some way. Tu-Swift had hurt his knee fleeing the flames. He might — or might not — be permanently marred in his running. Perhaps ALT-R and POND MUD had been marred in their souls to such an extent that they could not ever have been healed. She had tried. Others had tried. And, what of this man NUT-PI? From all accounts, he seemed to actually enjoy inflicting pain on others. That might be a type of wound of the soul that festers and never recovers. In rare cases, she knew that the infection of a wound could sometimes festers and the sickness of the wound spreads until it destroys the human body of a person, no matter what medicines are given, or how many healing songs are sung. Is this what had happened with ALT-R and POND MUD? And, NUT-PI? Could this happen to Many Paths herself if she kept dwelling on all the different ways to sicken, maim, hurt, thwart the Z-Lotz? 

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Original drawing by Pierce Morgan

She hoped not. Yet, even as she walked this path, one of her favorites, she looked at a different forest, a different field — one less filled with life. It was a path on which things of use rather than things of beauty stood out for her. Saplings became spears in waiting. Thorn Apples became possible two-part weapons. She could coat the thorns in a poison from the leaves and then arrange for the thorns to penetrate the skin. Rocks along the path reminded her of slings. Slings and rocks. These were weapons that could always be ready to hand for a people who were captured. Tu-Swift himself had used a small rock to sabotage some of the weapons of the ROI. 

Many Paths tried to drink in the beauty surrounding her with the eyes of her youth, and she could, but now it seemed an effort. After all, if she could not help lead her people so as to prevent the destructive war that seemed inevitable, there might not be any beauty left to drink. In the Battle of the Three Paths, two would-be enemies had been persuaded not to fight. But they had had to fight the Cupiditas. Those people could not be deterred, at least in any way that anyone had yet discovered. She resolved to spend some part of each day reminding herself of the way of seeing which was to feel the inner beating heart that she shared with all living things. But for the rest, she would dedicate herself to finding many weapons of war, the most important among those weapons being yet the way of peace. Perhaps, thought Many Paths, if the way of the Z-Lotz and the ROI is to stop seeing the harmony of nature, we can use the harmony of nature that they no longer see as a kind of weapon to destroy them. Or, maybe we can somehow rekindle that love-sight in their souls. 

Many Paths began to sing the legend of the Forgotten Field of Flowers and soon Cat Eyes and Tu-Swift began to sing along. Jaccim improvised a humming beat to accompany. Singing one of the songs of her people put Many Paths in a more harmonious mood and as she glanced to the northern horizon, the flashes of lightning in the dark clouds filled her with awe. The storm was headed their way, but she relished the smell of summer rain and looked forward to the downpour. 

island during golden hour and upcoming storm

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

Many Paths came to the end of her song. To her surprise, Cat Eyes kept singing! She sang verses that Many Paths had never before heard. Cat Eyes sang with a beautiful clear voice. She sang with joy and she sang with a profound sadness at the same time. The voice of Cat Eyes filled the heart of Many Paths and she wondered yet again what deep wounds had been cut into the very heart of Cat Eyes and how those wounds had been healed. Perhaps that was also a weapon whose secrets must be discovered.

———————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

Essays on America: At Least he’s Our Monster!

19 Thursday Sep 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, Uncategorized

≈ 55 Comments

Tags

criminal, environment, Impeachment, life, politics, truth

“He’s a Monster, but at Least He’s Our Monster.” Little Sally pointed her tiny finger toward the writhing orange blob, then turned back to her older brother, Tony. Sally smirked smugly and folder her arms, dipping her head slightly as if that clinched the argument. 

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“No he isn’t!” insisted Tony. “You’re deluding yourself.” 

Perhaps Tony thought of his real name “Marc Anthony” as an invitation — perhaps a demand — to wax upon the topic; I won’t say wax elegant — but some sort of wax — as you might obtain as part of a ten dollar drive-through car wash. Perhaps if he had waxed more elegantly, but alas, that was not the case.

Tony thus proceeded:  “The whole point of being a Monster is that you don’t answer to anyone else. That includes a team captain, a superior officer, a teacher or any other “authority” figure. But you may, of course, give in temporarily to a more powerful monster. You are using him for your own purposes — playing on his vanity. Other, less powerful people you bully into doing what is in your own interests — or often just on a whim. You play to the throngs by giving them entertainment. But you have no loyalty to them either. 

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Liberty – Sold to the Highest Bidder. Hold for pickup.

“Our Monster — as you call it just because that’s the name he likes  — has no loyalty. He absolutely thinks loyalty is garbage – a set of words and concepts you can use on some people to get them to do what you want. So, sure, he thinks it’s fine to pretend loyalty in order to manipulate others. But the instant he thinks one of his “loyal followers” is a liability, he’ll destroy that person as best he can. If all he can do is ruin their reputation, he’ll do that. If they own key personnel in courts and law enforcement, he’ll use the courts to ruin his “comrades.” If and when he gains still more power over the police and military, he’ll destroy his enemies physically. 

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“And, if he runs out of enemies, he’ll start calling old friends, new enemies and destroy them as well. You’re playing with something worse than fire, here Sally.” 

Sally sniffed. “You’re just jealous because he likes me better than you!” 

A shrill scream shot through the air. Sally & Tony both jerked their heads toward the sound. The sharp teeth of the round-mouthed orange monster opened wide as it bellowed and screeched. “HUNGRY! HUNGRY!” 

“Well,” said Sally, “I think he’s cute, so I’m going to feed him.” 

As Sally scanned their scant provisions for something that would likely please the monster, Tony continued to try to dissuade her. 

“Look, Sally, it’s not safe. It may look somewhat human, but he has no human feelings. He just…” 

Sally picked up some lunch meat from the nearly empty fridge and ignored Tony as she walked out into the back deck. She looked down on the writhing form of our poor monster. She muttered to herself, “I don’t see why he needs to be penned up. He should be free to go anywhere he wants and to do anything he wants like everyone else.” 

woman taking bottle of drink from refrigerator

Photo by Pedro Sandrini on Pexels.com

Sally strode over to the edge of the deck, took one backward glance to see whether Tony was coming to stop her and drew her arm back to toss the package of meat. She hesitated for a moment. What if Tony’s right? What if it really is dangerous? 

The monster’s plaintive cry bellowed through the air again, “HUNGRY! HUNGRY! FEED ME!” 

Well, thought Sally, I’m not going to do — or not do — something just because my smarty pants brother says it’s a bad idea. She cocked her arm again and threw the packaged down to monster — MY monster, she thought. 

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Monster immediately tore off the packaging and tossed it aside. He had already made quite a mess of his pen. He gobbled it up in a flash. Then, he began moaning. “Not fresh! Low quality! Need fresh! FRESH! Come closer, little girl. Pretty girl. Oh, you are a pretty girl! No-one ever pets me. Woe is me!” 

The monster waddled over to the edge of his pen. From here, Sally judged, she should be able to barely pat the top of his scruffy head. He looked up with dog eyes and she put her hand out to pet her. Suddenly, Monster’s neck shot up and took her whole hand in its mouth. It sucked on her hand and she could feel its sharp teeth against her skin. It began growling in its throat but she could understand what it was saying, “Bring me fresh meat! Or, I will eat you! I need it NOW!” 

The monster released her hand and stared up into her eyes with its dull shark eyes. She glanced back into the kitchen but saw no sign of Tony. The skin of her arm was unbroken. But that Monster really sucks! 

Where had Tony gone? She opened the kitchen door and padded about. No-one here but old Winston, the sick gray cat. Winston had once been a fun lively pet, but these days — not so much. Maybe he’d be happier dead. She knew in her heart of hearts that was a lie. But somehow, lying for the Monster didn’t seem so bad. She grabbed Winston by the scruff of the neck and put her hands under his aging body. She could feel the old cat’s ribs. She had to use her butt to open the door back to the deck but she managed. Like a zombie, she walked over to the edge and tossed the cat over before she lost her courage. 

cat sitting beside window

Photo by Jeffrey Riley on Pexels.com

The cat was gone in a single gulp! Well, she thought, at least it was painless. “There you go, Monster!” 

“I NEED MORE! MORE Fresh Meat!” the monster pleaded. “NOW!” 

“We don’t have any more meat. Times are tough. Would you like some fruit?” 

“MEAT! NOW! MORE and Fresh! NOW!” wailed the Monster. 

“Okay, just a minute, Monster. I’ll look.” 

Sally re-entered the kitchen but saw no sign of Tony. She walked into the entry way and there sat Tony putting his fishing boots on. 

“Where are you going, Tony?” 

“I’m going fishing! You just threw away our last package of lunch meat. Like an idiot!” 

bay beach bicycle clouds

Photo by Snapwire on Pexels.com

Sally ground her teeth. Why was her brother so mean about the Monster? “Tony,” she said sweetly, “I’m glad you’re going fishing. I’m sorry I gave our last meat to the Monster, but I think you’re right! He’s dangerous! And, I think he’s about to break out of his pen! Can you come take a look before you go?”

Tony nodded. “All right. I’m glad you’re finally seeing some sense!” He finished putting on his boots making the trek out onto the back deck a little awkward but he came to the edge and looked down at the Monster. He scanned the pen. “Sally, I don’t see a problem with the pen.” 

Sally came up next to him.  “Look over — like here — right below. Doesn’t it look like a hole in the fencing? It might be okay, but it looks wrecked somehow.” 

Tony leaned over the rail to look at the fencing directly below. “WHAT?!” he screamed as Sally snuck behind him and lifted his feet making him tumble a dozen feet onto the ground below. Something — perhaps several somethings — snapped as he hit the ground awkwardly. “NO!” he screamed. Those were his last words. 

Sally felt a moment of guilt but then thought: Well, he had it coming. Anyway, now the Monster’s fed. And he was really hungry. She felt just a bit nauseous though as she heard the monster’s teeth saw through the bones. She couldn’t tell her parents what really happened of course. When the noise stopped, she crept over to the edge. There were only small pieces of her brother left and these were being lapped up by the Monster who stopped long enough to leer at Sally. 

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“Monster happy! Thank you, little girl. Pet Monster, pretty little girl. Please pet Monster.” 

Having a pet Monster like this was a lot better than having a pesky brother she decided. 

She put her hand down to pet the Monster’s scruffy head again. She stared uncomprehending at the place where her right arm had been just moments before. A pulsing geyser of someone’s blood spurted through the air. She shook her head and said, “What?” That’s my blood, she realized and she fell forward. She was losing consciousness. She found the strength to move her head and the last thing she saw was the Monster’s impossibly long neck stretching that roundish hole of teeth toward her face. The Monster laughed and said, “Pretty little stupid girl.” 

After digesting the lunch meat, the cat, Tony and Sally, the Monster felt quite satisfied. 

For an hour. 

Then, he began using his new found bulk and strength to dismantle his pen. Now he would be free. 

Free at last. 

Free to kill and eat all the children he could. 

Life was good, thought “Our” Monster. 

air air pollution climate change dawn

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com


 

An earlier parable about a monster. 

The beginning of the Myths of the Veritas. 

Author Page on Amazon. 

Essays on America: Ice

04 Wednesday Sep 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, psychology, science, Uncategorized

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

arctic, carbon dioxide, Climate change, environment, ice, life, methane, politics, science, truth

“Have a nice day.” 

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In the San Diego area, where I live, people really do often say, “Have a nice day.” And, generally, that happens, at least weather-wise. It is typically between 55 and 75 degrees Fahrenheit (13 to 24 degrees Celsius) year round. Right now, we are having a slight heat wave. When I went to play tennis this morning, I filled a cup 2/3 ice and 1/3 water to help me stay cool and hydrated on the court. Although we played at 8:30 am, the temperature on the tennis court was already high. As I filled my cup (to almost running over), I was once again struck by the odd properties of ice. 

One of those properties is that ice is less dense than water. Ice floats. That turns out to be a good thing. But it’s also an unusual thing. Many substances contract as they get colder and expand as they get warmer. 

iceberg during daytime

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

There’s another weird thing about ice. It takes as much heat energy* to change a cup of ice at 32 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius) to a cup of water at 32 degrees Fahrenheit as it does to warm that water from 32 degrees F to 176 degrees F!! That is hot water! Exposure to water for two seconds that is only 150 degrees F will give you third degree burns. You do not want to touch water that is 176 degrees Fahrenheit (80 degrees Celsius)! 

Just contemplate that astounding fact. It takes as much heat energy to change a cup (or any other amount) of ice to water at that same temperature as it does to heat that ice cold water up to way beyond scalding. 

brown surface beside body of water in a distant of mountains under white clouds during daytime

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“Well, okay,” you might say. “But who really cares?” 

You do! Or at least you should. Because all that ice that is melting at the Arctic and in Iceland and in Greenland — that is a big frigging deal! 

And I think you would immediately know it’s a big frigging deal if Global Warming heated the ice cold water in the Arctic Ocean to scalding water that was so hot it killed all the fish, dolphins, whales, crabs, and seaweed in the ocean. It would kill you almost instantly if you tried to swim in it. 

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Photo by HAMID ELBAZ on Pexels.com

Actually, what is happening is worse than that. 

Why? Because although water is reflective, it is not nearly so reflective as ice covered with snow. Chances are, you may have heard the expression “snow blind” which is a temporary blindness caused by the sunlight bouncing off snow and hurting your retina. But you have not heard the expression “water blind.” Although there can be glare off the water, it is not nearly so severe. So, when the ice melts, it not only represents a huge change in heat energy; it also speeds up the further heating of the planet. The sunlight once reflected off of ice covered with snow and that helped keep the planet cooler. In those areas where the ice and snow have melted, much less of the sun’s energy is now reflected off into space. 

Actually, what is happening is worse than that. 

Why? Because the arctic heat is also thawing permafrost in arctic lands. This means that methane which is trapped beneath the permafrost is being released into the atmosphere. Alas, methane, like Carbon Dioxide, is a greenhouse gas. So, the increased level of Carbon Dioxide in the atmosphere is not only itself causing the planet to heat up; it is also releasing huge quantities of another greenhouse gas: methane. 

beach beautiful clouds countryside

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Unfortunately, in the first two decades after being released into the atmosphere, methane is 84 times as “effective” as Carbon Dioxide at trapping the heat energy in the earth’s atmosphere. Agro-business and manufacturing also produce methane. This means more warming and less ice. 

As it turns out, there are many possible variations of ice. The exact number of different types varies depending on what “counts” as another type. You know that “solid ice” is different from frost and snowflakes and candle ice. Under extreme pressures, many kinds can be produced in the laboratory. But none of them is Ice Nine. 

Ice Nine is a science fiction substance created by the mind of Kurt Vonnegut in his wonderful book, Cat’s Cradle, which is well worth the read. 

In Cat’s Cradle, a scientist discovers another form of ice which “freezes” at room temperature. Not only that; if even a tiny “seed” of this Ice Nine touches a larger body of water, that entire body of water will turn into Ice Nine. So, an over-arching suspense arc of the book is whether or not humanity will be able to “contain” Ice Nine or whether it will basically destroy life on earth. 

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Ice Nine is fiction. But global climate change is not fiction. 

Whether we humans can get our act together in time to prevent turning Global Climate Change into Global Climate Disaster is not clear. Many people are working very hard to prevent that. But many other people apparently think it will happen after their individual life is over so they don’t really give a damn about how many of their descendants will suffer or how many other life forms they destroy. And a few people, those I call SHRUGS (Super Hyper Really Ultra-Greedy Swindlers), are actively trying to hasten the Global Climate Disaster by rolling back environmental regulations, setting forests afire, and denying that Climate Change is real. 

Why? 

That’s the subject of the next post. 

—————————————-

  • In actual practice, the amount of heat will vary depending on the insulation and ambient temperature. If you heat ice water up on your stove, for example, at first, in addition to the heat you provide from the gas flame or electric coil, your house temperature (perhaps around 72 degrees F) will also be heating up that water. But once the temperature of the water reaches a higher temperature than 72 degrees F, some of the heat you apply from the stove will “leak out” into the rest of your house. And the higher the temperature of the water, the more will leak out into the rest of your house. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cat%27s_Cradle

Author Page on Amazon

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