I really dug watching and hearing this. Might you?
“Eyewitness accounts of Rolling Thunder’s remarkable healings, legendary control over the weather and animals, and inspiring teachings,” is what the venerable Inner Traditions • Bear & Company wrote about this brand new book.
My chapter, “Sensing Rolling Thunder’s Energy,” is in this exciting new volume edited by Rolling Thunder’s grandson, Sidian Morning Star Jones, and Stanley Krippner, Ph.D. Sidian’s the founder of Open Source Religion, and Stanley’s a legendary psychologist, researcher in consciousness, and author.
The Shamanic Powers of Rolling Thunder was just released on November 15, 2016. With contributors who include Alberto Villoldo, John Perry Barlow, Larry Dossey and others, if you’re a real fan of consciousness or Native American traditions, you’d likely find it to be a very entertaining read.
You could click to the Inner Traditions • Bear & Company website for the trade paperback version. Or you can instead click to Amazon.com for a Kindle edition or trade paperback version. I bow in gratitude to Sidian and Stanley for inviting my chapter as a contribution!
It seems that Americans often need the perspective of citizens of other nations to see clearly what we’re doing. I found this brilliant image on Funkhaus Europa’s facebook page. It was made by illustrator Lennart Gäbel who hails from Hamburg, Germany. I wanna meet this guy and interview him on my new talk magazine!
In this Summer’s past Wired magazine was this article, “An Open Letter From Tech Leaders on Donald Trump’s Presidential Bid.” I agree with everything written in it. It’s now time to love Trump out of office as expediently as possible.
Fear is pandemic in American culture. Unless you, as an individual, take steps to manage and dissolve it, it will and does run your life. I speak from personal and professional experience. Fear is sold to us each and every minute of each and every broadcast news day. So much so that most of our 300,000,000 citizens stopped noticing it. Most of our fears are unreal fantasies. They don’t exist. But they can and do still color and run our lives in absolutely undesirable directions. But no thing is real until it actually becomes real.
It’s also real, if you simply look into it objectively, that every national election since at least Dubya’s day has been rigged. Do your own conclusive research about this. Make your own choices and take back your personal power. Personally, I have found time and again there was clear evidence the popular national vote was blatantly disregarded by the government’s election process, and/or there was clear evidence that the gerrymandered electoral college skewed elections’ results beyond truth and comprehension.
Now, newly president-elect Donald Trump is our nation’s over-reaction to our individual, sometimes unspoken fears. However, his attitudes and fears are quite real because we have given them form by letting him be elected. But anyone, whoever they might be, who is abusive, divisive, and sociopathic cannot represent me as president. I won’t accept that from a clearly broken, subverted electoral process which long ago ceased to truthfully represent the will of its popular voters.
Trump’s sentiments are, in every way, the opposite of what our nation’s founders wrote they believed. I instead choose Love and freedom. Don’t however, mistake those choices for weakness. I’ve often been known to fight and win in professional scenarios. In this moment, I’d sooner see California secede from the broken United States’ government, to become its own republic.
With this post, I cast my personal preference that Trump be removed from taking office. I base that estimation not in fear, but from the real reactions of the experienced, compassionate, sensible, real people who daily comment on his inexperience and abuse of power. No. I won’t stand for his decisions.
These banks in this linked article are making possible the wholesale destruction of not only precious rainforests, but are also contributing to the acceleration of highly destructive, anthropogenic climate change. The palm oil grown on plantations like these is sold to you in your snack food, your shampoo, and other products. You’re paying these people to ruin the planet for your children. Research it if you don’t believe it. Look for ingredients like palm oil and palmitic acid.
Follow the article’s link for more information.
Chase has been my bank for a long time. Maybe it’s time for me to pull out my accounts and use a bank with environmentally-friendly policies.
About a week ago, I purchased my third hybrid street car in a row. My goal in doing this is/was to reduce my personal use of dat ol’ debbil petroleum energy, and via my personal actions by leaving as many prehistoric dinosaurs and flora in the ground as possible.
Five and 1/2 years ago I leased my first Prius. In less than three weeks I’ll return my second leased Prius. Even with my foot pressed against the floor, I’d get upwards of 44 MPG with these cars. Nice.
Before I bought my first Prius, I also shopped the Ford Fusion. The Ford dealership with which I talked at the time was especially full of themselves, and they even denigrated the Prius for its “old” hybrid design. Not a big deal for me since the Prius’ mileage would regularly exceed the Ford Fusion hybrid by upwards of 12%. Ford also wanted much more money for their car, so Toyota got my business. The Prius was a good street car for me. Over 5 1/2 years I logged 123,000 miles between the two of them.
But last week I switched my allegiances. I wanted a slightly bigger car than the Prius, and I also found my two to be fugly. I actually like the looks of the Ford Fusion. While I was shopping I discovered that Ford is making screamingly-good deals on their new Fusion Energi, which is a plug-in hybrid. Ford sold me a one for $3,000 less than my most recent Prius.
It gets average mileage which is at least as good as my two Prii, and Ford’s in-car computer has been quoting average mileage north of 47 MPG. This includes its first 19 electric-only miles on each trip. Right now, I’m plugging it into a standard 110-volt AC plug. It takes around 6 1/2 hours and 65 cents to charge its 5.4 Kw usable capacity. On a 220-volt plug Ford quotes 2 1/2 hours’ charge time.
So, if it costs $3 per gallon for unleaded fuel, and you estimate the Fusion Energi would get a minimum of 38 MPG using only dinosaur juice, it would cost $1.50 to power the car its first 19 miles of each road trip. But an electric charge does that for only 65 cents. This is a good thing.
And now, one of the many reasons I point this out – Obama is proving yet again that he’s anything but an environmental president. As 350.org says, he’s up to this destructive task:
“On August 24th, the Obama administration is planning to sell off an area the size of Virginia for offshore drilling in the Gulf of Mexico. This fossil fuel auction is set to take place in the New Orleans Superdome, just an hours drive from Louisiana cities and towns that have just been ravaged by unprecedented floods.
Louisiana is in a state of emergency and the Red Cross is calling this the worst disaster in the U.S. since Hurricane Sandy.
We need to keep fossil fuels in the ground and stop treating the Gulf Coast like a sacrifice zone. In the midst of a climate-fueled disaster, which will most gravely impact those already marginalized in our society, moving forward with this auction is a terrible idea. Selling fossil fuels at the New Orleans Superdome — the site of one of the most visible and tragic instances of climate injustice in recent memory — is nothing short of insulting.
In this moment, we need to stand with Gulf communities who have been resisting the fossil fuel industry for decades.
President Obama can allow the fossil fuel industry to carry on with business as usual, or he can stand with Louisiana residents who are living under a state of climate emergency. He can’t do both.
We are calling on President Obama to cancel the upcoming fossil fuel auction and stop new offshore drilling in the Gulf of Mexico altogether.”
You now have the option to stand with me, with the other supporters of 350.org, to sign their petition to encourage Obama to cancel this idiotic auction.
This is for all of us who love music, and who also listen to it on our smartphones, tablets, and computers. Now, the way we all ‘purchase’ and consume music — its format — is changing yet again. This finally seeped into my awareness from an unexpected article in Digital Music News, which I mention below.
I became a paying audiophile at the tail-end of the LP era. I bought my first LP, The Moody Blues’ “On the Threshold of a Dream,” at age 13. One of my albums also included Santana’s, “Abraxas.” I still remember the way my dad’s eyebrows rose slightly when he saw its cover ;-)
Depending on how you count them, my time in this body has seen no less than seven format changes in the delivery of music:
There was one party with my parent’s friends when I was around 10 years old when I stood silently awed in front of AM radio legend, Robert Weston Smith, known in the Los Angeles region as Wolfman Jack. He regarded me patiently. The Rolling Stone’s “Satisfaction,” and Sam the Sham and the Pharoah’s, “Wooly Bully,” were pounding over the loudspeakers.
By age 13 I’d been listening for over a decade to my parents LPs which included show tunes, the de rigueur Herb Alpert and The Tijuana Brass of the time, and also their version of instrumental music for love, exotica (Read: sex ;-). Although my parents started what was said to be the seventh Sister City program in the United States with my hometown and a city in Mexico, we had no banda music LPs.
Two of my mom’s favorite LPs, to which she would sometimes sing, were the soundtracks from Rodger’s & Hammerstein’s movie, South Pacific, and also The Music Man. I can still carry the tune and remember some of the lyrics from The Music Man. At a drive-in theater, from the middle seat of my parents’ Wimbledon White, 1965 Ford Country Sedan station wagon, that movie was the first time I’d seen the astounding Robert Preston perform.
I can still sing some of the song, “Edelweiss,” from my memory of the movie version of Rodger’s & Hammerstein’s stage musical, The Sound of Music. Decades later both my son and I were surprised that he was going to school with Julie Andrew’s grandson, and his then middle-school friend described her personality tongue-in-cheek as, “annoyingly cheerful.” At at a young age, at Los Angeles’ Music Center, I was in the audience with my parents to watch Zorba.
Gratefully, I missed the reel-to-reel and 8-track days. They were fiddly and somewhat short-lived. But compact cassettes had become popular in my 20s, although they were especially perishable because their technology was prone to fast degradation from heat and by simply playing them lots. So I collected only a few of them. Richard Marx’s eponymous 1980’s album on audiocassette is the one I can recall in this moment. From his song, “Don’t Mean Nothin,” “It don’t mean nothin’, no victim, no crime… it don’t mean nothin’ until you sign it on the dotted line,” he wrote and sang from first-hand experience about the cut-throat nature of the publishing and production companies of the music business. Inspired by his song and this article, I just paid iTunes its $1.29 to own and hear it again.
All of this music came from real people, with real lives. And, I have lots of first-hand experiences with, and can relate to musicians and singers. In college I sang tenor and baritone in a vocal ensemble which spread the good word of PDQ Bach’s tongue-in-cheek, “The Seasonings.” I took a little music theory to have a clue what was printed on the sheet music from which I was supposed to read. I also had a tutor for it. I also fronted a garage band for a little while, which never got to the gigs stage because it’s hard to keep even a good band together and have a life. And, although it’s not the same thing as being a published, touring musical artist, it’s not like I have no experience: For fun and gettin’ by money I performed singing telegrams while I was in college.
To start doing that, I pulled out what used to be called a phone book, scanned the yellow pages, and got excited by the idea of singing telegrams. About the next day I showed up, without an appointment at the Balloon-o-Grams shop in what used to be Santa Barbara’s Piccadilly square. Proprietress Joann hired me on the spot. She asked if I could roller-skate (well) and I lied, “Yes.” Usually I sang simple standards like The Birthday Song. Once in a while I’d pen an original limerick or song because I was having fun.
I drove my own ’65 VW microbus camper to the gigs for her flat rate pay of $10, for about 45 minutes’ work. My bus’ name was Milton P. Quicksilver. Of course, quick he wasn’t. But he was steady. I paid my own gas, insurance, and upkeep on the ride. Even with tips, I often I broke even and figured that was OK because I was a student at university.
Although one of my favorite delivery costumes was simply a bright blue baseball cap with stuffed, yellow lightning bolts, my first-ever delivery was in a gorilla costume, to a pretty, petite birthday girl at a boutique advertising agency. My bravado, and likely the fact that I picked her up and carried her while I sang to her, made her and her workmates think I was pro. I was almost as surprised as they were :-)
And, yes, the parties I got invited to were amazing. Another of my patrons, who hired me to deliver at a party in honor of her boss passing the CA Bar exam. In my gorilla suit I sang romantically to her boss, which greatly and gleefully embarrassed her. Which was exactly the point of what I was asked to do. Her employee, my very pretty patron, was maybe 19. I was about 23. After I was done with my act my patron invited me to stay. I shucked my gorilla suit and got myself a drink.
It was around an hour later at the party, after the social lubricants had been imbibed, and after dark. Since we were in the foothills of Santa Barbara at a wonderful home with Spanish architecture, everyone game for it had just stripped naked and stepped into the hot tub. The tub was almost full, and there was only one spot left to sit. Some wise-ass male joked when my patron came late for her entrance. Since I’ve never asked her I’m still not sure if she came late from modesty, or she instead wanted to make an entrance. Of course, it could have also been both. But buck naked since she was the last one to step into the tub, and wise-ass guy cracked in a loud voice, “Oh look! They float!”
Months later, after I had abandoned singing telegrams because my interest in being paid so I could eat had outweighed my interest in performing, I unexpectedly saw my patron again. She was standing across the floor of the Standard Brands Paint store at which I clerked. We locked gazes other across 30 yards. I walked over to say hello.
My co-worker, Dave, was having a serious conversation with her about how to paint her and her husband’s house. Her husband wasn’t there. Latex or oil-based? What colors would she like?
While I grinned broadly, she quickly spoke first when I walked quietly up to them. She said brightly, “Hi! I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.” Dave turned so lobster red I’ve never seen anyone that color since that time. He shrank speechlessly away. She and I stayed friends a long time, even during her second marriage, and her two children by a good man who was also a good attorney.
For every successful musical superstar, there must be thousands who never remotely succeeded in their dream. Although I’ve had warm, personal backstage conversations with the likes of Al Jarreau, or the band Air Supply, their successes are exceptional. While you’re reading this, it would serve everyone — including you — to remember that most of that music is produced by artists who pour their hearts and souls into their work. As with any work which requires high levels of skill and frequent dedication which borders on insanity, its creators deserve to be paid very well. Artists who help us move, shape and recreate our world fresh every time we listen to their inspired work should be treated no differently. Right?
When I first arrived in Los Angeles, my girlfriend at the time had a friend, Ann, whose boyfriend was the lead singer in the band Animotion. Bill Wadhams is his name. I watched him and their band perform on-stage at the local punk rock hang, Madame Wong’s, just a little while before their only big hit, “Obsession,” began charting. He didn’t write it.
Off-stage, Bill had said that he actually detested singing the song. I don’t know if he feels the same way about it now, as I see that Animotion reunited in around 2001 and they’re still performing. But back then, after the song started charting, the owner of the band’s name personally canned all it’s members, trying to start over fresh with new members. I take satisfaction that the owner failed because none of the band deserved that treatment as far as I could see. It seems that Bill has yet to retire to his mansion in the south of France with a full house staff from his earnings as a musician and artist.
Later that decade, there was also a 6 1/2 year stretch of time in the late 1980s when I lived with a knockout singer-songwriter. She was beautiful, petite, and had pipes to match the best of ’em. She could cover Aretha Franklin’s “Respect.” She could cover Janis Joplin or pretty much any rock or show tune. She could growl at the top of her voice or sing gentle lullabies. We had amazing parties with our musical friends. One of them was a hardware engineer for an aerospace company, who wrote and played his own, unpublished songs. And she worked lots of wedding parties and New Year’s celebrations so she could sing professionally. It was her dream to go pro and perform her own music.
She suffered for her art. She wrote beautiful, moving songs. She even wrote, sang and recorded quite a good song, about and dedicated to me. She somehow wrangled a contract with Paul Simon’s producer, Hilton Rosenthal, to perform and publish her own music. She opted to bail out of the cut-throat musical originals game in her mid-30s, when her contract, and her prospects as a pro musician performing their own originals, didn’t pan out to her satisfaction. Wisely she put a time limit on her career with her originals. I figure that was smart, as the music business is and was one of the toughest industries in the world in which to excel. To express her personal love of music, she still does covers. She still lives in California, and is married to a guy who provides them a comfortable living from his profession as an insurance executive.
My brilliantly-talented singer introduced me to another musically-active couple. The husband had been a tour manager for bands like Rush, Chaka Khan, and the Motels. The wife recorded, performed and sang her own original songs, and she still does. Her original music is featured in John Waters’ 1985 movie, “Lust in the Dust.“
In addition to her own music, Karen Hart’s beautiful, amazing voice is the one you hear when superstar Sigourney Weaver lipsyncs her lullaby in the movie, “Snow White: A Tale of Terror.” Later, from love Karen gifted my second wife, me, and our wedding reception guests by performing her music. For free. But to the best of my knowledge, Karen and her husband weren’t ever featured on Robin Leach’s Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous ;-)
Through an introduction by Karen’s husband, in that same decade I happened to find myself standing with, and talking to the same beautiful woman about whom Thomas Dolby wrote his famous song, “She Blinded Me With Science.” Her name is Fiorella Tirenzi, and she’s an astrophysicist. We were at an event in Malibu to discuss art, passion, and community.
Terenzi’s also her own musician, who has written and published her music. We talked for around half an hour about personal passions. I asked her if she had ever lost hers. She said she nearly did when she was doing the mind-deadening work of cataloguing stars to earn her doctorate. She stuck with her primary work and teaching as a college professor instead of doing music full time. In looking up what Tirenzi has been doing lately, it seems she has done well, but it hasn’t been because she made millions from her music to buy her own space exploration craft.
There are more artists I have known who struggled and triumphed to deliver the art from their hearts. For a while I was spending social time with the astonishingly-talented Kevyn Lettau. I met her when I showed up one night at the now-gone La Velee jazz club in Studio City, CA, expecting to see some great jazz act fronted by a man.
Instead, before the show began, a willowy blonde walked up to the lead mic and checked its height. That was Kevyn. I was very surprised. Her performance was electrifying, and she was accompanied by the Yellowjacket’s Russell Ferrante. I bought several of her albums on CD.
My pretty patron from my singing telegram days came to hear Kevyn perform at La Velee, because my patron’s daughter aspired to be a pro singer and had a fabulous voice for a 12 year-old. Both mother and daughter were astounded by her vocal range and skill. Kevyn’s was the voice of Philippine Airline’s advertising songs. She still lives in California, and hasn’t yet bought her own airline from her earnings as a musical artist.
Then, around 2008, there was the night that I watched, from five feet away, the astounding talent of Karen Briggs as she riffed her electric violin on her sublime original tune, “Scheherazade’s Groove.” She was on fire! At La Velee she gave one of the most enthralling performances I’ve ever seen for very little gate money. Her sweet, 11 year-old daughter was selling admission tickets at the door. By herself. She also helped to sell Karen’s CDs during the show breaks.
And although Karen has performed with very popular musicians including Yanni, at Greece’s Acropolis, it doesn’t look to me like she has moved to the sunny Mediterranean.
Now, put all this experience in the context of published music, the callings and needs of artistry, and changes in published music formats for everyone. The world is again changing music delivery formats. In my own history, in the early 1990s I started selling or giving away my modest collection of wonderful LPs. They included Simple Minds, the Eurythmics, Peter Gabriel, Level 42, U2, Tears for Fears, Cock Robin, one Blood, Sweat and Tears compilation, and Genesis. I had already started collecting CDs. They were comparatively inexpensive for how long they lasted. I didn’t own any Sting, and only one Springsteen compilation which was a gift. And although there’s definitely a difference between the sound quality of analogue LP recordings compared to CDs, all of us except the most discerning audiophiles prefer the ease and convenience of optical discs. I never owned a laser video player because I felt they and their discs were luxuriously expensive.
All that musical artistry above affected me. I can still sing many of the songs on those albums from memory. All those artists’ songs were especially important to me because their inspired creators captured in time the specific essence of invaluable, universal human emotions. For everyone. The artists who created them worked long and hard, and suffered to bring them to us. In 2009 Kevyn graciously agreed to let me use one of my favorite songs of hers, “Pickin’ Weeds,” as Blue Planet Almanac’s theme song. She wasn’t paid for that because Blue Planet Almanac was produced pro bono by me, for two years. I, too, have ‘given blood’ at the office.
All of us who appreciate and listen to inspired music benefit from the hard-won personal growth, sufferings and triumphs of the living, breathing artists who created them. One of my favorites lines about this is from the Tears for Fears song, “Working Hour,” which observes ,“We are paid by those who learn by our mistakes.”
Yes, it looks like we’re smack in the middle of yet another format change. I didn’t see it coming when I bought my first smartphone, an iPhone 3GS. I expected the digital storage formats to last a while. But then I’m not in the music industry. I got the iPhone because my son observed casually one day that for someone like me who loves so much music, a smartphone combining many functions would be perfect. He was right. I’ve been very, very happy with the format change. My collection of around 250 CDs is somewhere in a box. The ones I wanted to have handy are currently stored in iTunes.
Personally, I have 15.9 continuous days of sound files, mostly music, in my iTunes 11.x installation on my PC. I ‘own’ it all. That’s 4,097 items comprising 33+ GB. A fair chunk of my music was purchased through Apple’s iTunes Store. Some was imported from CDs, and only a few files were imported from friend’s CDs. Some time ago I stopped updating my iOS software because Apple has been releasing crapware mobile OS updates for nearly two years. Likewise, I didn’t switch to versions of Apple’s desktop software later than 11. Apple’s desktop and mobile updates cause more problems than they solve. Many are now surmising that Apple has lost its luster, for those and other reasons.
The next format change, you’ve probably already noticed, is streaming. There’s Soundcloud, Spotify and many others. The only reason I avoid using them most of the time is that they pay signed artists next to nothing. The publishing companies will continue to do this as long as you, personally, decide not to pay the artists for their work. In effect, a musical artist’s pay is less than nothing; the artists go in the hole with their own money to produce their art. I have, by comparison, listened by subscription for several years to Pandora, and paid my favorite artists via iTunes, or once in a while bought the artist’s CDs directly from them. Journey or Antonio Pontarelli, for example. But although it’s piddly money, at least Pandora and iTunes pay the artists something rather than nothing, as do Soundcloud or Spotify. The station seed playing right now on my Pandora One is Tangerine Dream, whose music I never collected.
This time, I see the next format change as being driven by the cold fact that most people don’t want to pay musical artists anything close to fair compensation for the blood, sweat and tears which artists pour into their music. So, would you accept that for yourself? If your answer is no, then why would you do it?
That’s all important context for the little news article I just found via someone’s Facebook feed, “I’m a Label Executive. And This is My Fair Warning on iTunes Music Downloads.” So, after I’ve invested my money and time for several years in Apple’s store, the ‘market’ forces of technology (and greed) are changing formats yet again. In the long run, this might be a good thing. Maybe not. We’ll see. And we’ll see if the artists actually get paid. If the aggregate of your decisions are to go with the flow of what the music publishers try and tell you, you know where that ends up.
The simple facts are that if you want great music, into which its artist has poured their heart and soul, you gotta expect to pay them for it. Although anyone listens to music streaming services, you have the option to actually purchase the artists’ albums or songs instead of expecting they’ll make their money from the infinitesimal amount the streaming service said they’ll pay them. Otherwise we’ll all end up with homogenous, flavorless, colorless musical wallpaper. Where each song sounds the same or very close to the song that just played before it. If you want that, you can have it. I don’t want that. I want musical artists who actually play instruments which took them a long time to master, and vocalists who suffered and triumphed to create their art. I’m unwilling to end up with a homogenous, boring world full of Soulja Boys and Milli Vanilli dross.
Here’s Bruce Bratton, a widely-respected Santa Cruz, CA, institution, interviewing UC Santa Cruz students, and activists, Andrew W. Austin and Kyra Fitz. Click the play triangle below to hear them. UC Santa Cruz (UCSC) and the UC Regents are trying to expand their undesirable construction over the top of UCSC campus-owned forests, and in the process pack more tuition-paying students into tighter quarters and impacted classes.
Over their 30 minutes on the air, Fitz and Austin discuss taking issue with the surreptitious manner in which the UC administrators are trying to run UCSC like it’s a profit center, instead of a nonprofit in the public’s trust. Simply put, the UC Regents and UC Santa Cruz administrators are trying to make lots of revenue by compromising their written mission statements.
So, did you know that:
“Redwoods once grew throughout the Northern Hemisphere. The first redwood fossils date back more than 200 million years to the Jurassic period. Before commercial logging and clearing began in the 1850s, coast redwoods naturally occurred in an estimated 2 million acres (the size of three Rhode Islands) along California’s coast from south of Big Sur to just over the Oregon border. When gold was discovered in 1849, hundreds of thousands of people came to California, and redwoods were logged extensively to satisfy the explosive demand for lumber and resources.”
And, “Today, only 5 percent of the original old-growth coast redwood forest remains, along a 450-mile coastal strip. Most of the coast redwood forest is now young. The largest surviving stands of ancient coast redwoods are found in Humboldt Redwoods State Park, Redwood National and State Parks and Big Basin Redwoods State Park.”
“What question could change my life?,” from Mary Alice Arthur at TEDxKielUniversity. I found Mary Alice at Findhorn’s 2014 New Story Summit. I streamed it live. This woman has skills, “The stories that have yet to be told need you.”
“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree”
~ from t.s. eliot’s “Little Gidding”
This morning, one of my best friends ever, Laila Selk, watched this video, “Overview,” from her computer. I heard its surprising dialogue in the background. About this vid she wrote, “When I’m feeling down, watching/contemplating this lifts me right back up.” Thank you, Laila!
“Overview” is a wonderful vid by people whose work deserves our attention, but not because they’re technological wizards. Instead, because they’re awakened humans. The biggest reason our war-loving species needed to go to into space is to appreciate Earth so we’d have the choice to preserve it. In the context of an ailing, suffering Earth, and an ailing, suffering humanity, the billions we spend on the space program make it a fool’s errand.
Humans will comparatively soon be the most endangered species toward the end of this Sixth Extinction. We need lots more heroines and heroes whose quotidian activities give us lots to look forward to, and less emotionally-stunted cretins like those poster boys for willful greed, the Koch brothers, and their political sideshow-distractions.
Vocal performances include those by Jon Bon Jovi, Paul McCartney, Sheryl Crow and Fergie. In watching and hearing this, I’m reminded about Dr. Leonard Shlain’s lecture on, “The Alphabet vs. The Goddess,” the internet might tend to counteract our trend to violence since the invention of written language. Via LinkedIn, I receive notices from people like Candice Gaukel Andrews and groups like National Wildlife Federation. That’s how this one arrived in my inbox.
As the money goes, so goes both conservation and consciousness. Robert Reich wrote about this NY Times article linked below:
“There are now four classes in America: an underclass, an anxious class in the middle, an overclass, and an oligarchy at the very top.
The underclass is the bottom 20 percent with family incomes under $26,000 this year, who live in marginal neighborhoods, whose kids attend lousy schools, and whose families are in continuous danger of hunger, homelessness, or serious and unattended medical problems.
The anxious class is the old middle class — 75 percent of Americans, with family incomes between $26,000 and $80,000 a year, whose jobs are becoming less secure and who are living paycheck to paycheck, and most of whose children will not live as well as they do.
The overclass is the top 5 percent, earning between $80,000 and $300,000 a year, who still feel pressured and worry about the future but can afford to live in good neighborhoods and send their kids to good schools.
The oligarchy is the top 0.1 percent, most earning over $1 million a year and sitting on over $15 million of wealth, who now possess almost all the power. Through their political contributions, lobbying, ‘think tanks,’ and media, they essentially rule America – influencing politicians and organizing the market to get most of the economic gains.
It’s a vicious cycle. The only way to reverse it is through a political revolution of the sort Bernie has been advocating.
What do you think?
(PS: If any of you still harbor doubts that America is being taken over by an oligarchy, you might take a look at what’s happening in Illinois, via article below).”
Here’s the article, “A Wealthy Governor and His Friends are Remaking Illinois,” at the NY Times, 11-29-15.”
I’ve been meditator a loooong time. A couple of years back as I interviewed David Lynch in front of the media wall at a celebrity-rich event, I stood next to many whom most of the world would reflexively ask for an autograph. I was there as a journalist, and to be happily calm. I interviewed Thomas Jane and Stephen Collins, and then I talked with David. I asked him, “When did you first know you were onto something with TM?” He seemed mildly surprised, and quickly replied, “You know, that’s a good question,” and he then answered with a version of the story which opens this vid. I didn’t hear anyone else asking him a similar question that night. Which makes me wonder how often he has told it. You would find very interesting the sorts of people who meditate. A few of the better known ones are mentioned here.