I had the opportunity to investigate Balboa Park here in San Diego yesterday. It boasts gardens, recreation, performing arts, other attractions, and over 17 museums. It truly is one of the most amazing and beautiful parks I’ve ever been in.

The Timkin Museum has been free for everyone for over 47 years, and it rated as one of the best 10 “small” museums in the world. The one Rembrandt was on loan, however the rest of the collection was quite nice. The rooms were broken up by country of origin, and the Flemish and Italian rooms were the most impressive. This little guy was hiding in a painting.

One of the guards was watching me draw it and was very kind, and so I gave the piece to him.

The main museum was good, and they had a Bouguereau.

I was able to do some studies of the painting, and I made friends with some of the guards in this museum as well. It was great to give them some drawings.

One of the guards was a very friendly guy named Schorsch, it was an honor to give him this study

0-    The number of meals I’ve missed. The generosity of people and the universe is astounding.

1-    The number of people encouraged not to go into the military

2-    The number of babies I was blessed to hold and hug.

3-    States and pairs of shoes so far.

4-    Months exactly to do the West Coast

5-    Jars of peanut butter eaten.

6-    Number of days spent in the rain

7-    Least amount of sleep in the night

8-    Least amount of miles in a day other than zero

9-    Most bottles of water drank in a day

10- Number of pounds gained and lost on this trek

14- Days spent recuperating from shin splints

21- Daily average of miles run/walked

31- Most miles in a day

157- Most miles covered in a week

206- The number of “peaces” of art given away so far

1,911- Miles run/walked so far

2,800- Average calories consumed in a day

8,000- Miles left on this pilgrimage in the US

72,000- Average number of steps taken in 26.2 miles

∞- The number of reasons not to care about the numbers.

I was getting hung up on the numbers of things that have been accomplished and the seemingly huge list of things still to do. The concern over how I was going to get through the desert. The concept of finally being able to turn left. Worried about the future.

I lost my focus for the last couple of days. I became very me centered and focused. Then on this morning as I prepared to depart, my good friend Jodi, who is really more like a sister to me, said she would give me a massage.

She and her husband Wesley have put me up here in San Diego for the last couple of nights. Jodi and I lived together with her brother and my other “Calabash” sister Terri in Phoenix. Our village saw the introduction of a baby boy named Logan who became the nucleus of all of our lives, and bonded all even closer.

Jodi is a massage therapist, and the most amazing one I’ve ever been to. The key I think is that she does it out of love. She works for free more often than for hire, and although that business model sounds at odds with financial success, she hasn’t had want for customers who are willing to pay top dollar for her services. Her business is run entirely by referral. People with fibromyalgia, cerebral palsy, larger body types, and the elderly flock to her because she loves on them, and doesn’t just work on them.

Jodi had to leave early this morning to care for athletes preparing for the marathon. However, she got up extra early, she wanted to give me a send off gift…she wanted to part ways with love.

As I was being pampered by her, I realized, she isn’t counting how many massages she has given, in what states, how many miles she drives, what number client she is on, or how many hours she has been on her feet. She does this for love. For her it is a give and take with her clients. She gives they receive, they in turn give her energy to continue…infinitum…yin and yang.

At that point the wind in my sails was rejuvenated, and a others focused mentality restored. (The massage helped too) But here this beautiful couple, and they did nothing for the last 48 hours but give and give. Their company, their hugs, dinner, shelter, a movie, food, a massage, art supplies, and even music for the road. Who am I to do anything less?

All the concerns for the future melted away, and the accomplishments of the past seemed unimportant. What matters now is to continue to give, continue to love, and continue to be compassionate—infinitely.

∞-

When I was a kid my grandmother had prints of two paintings by Warner Sallman. They are great paintings, and serve as Icons. But they are funny to deconstruct. In both Jesus is a Hottie. He’s got a chiseled jaw, unblemished skin, high cheekbones, and beautiful flowing hair that is shinny and healthy. His robes are spotlessly white, so much so that they glow. The Sallman used nice cool purples and blues in the reflected/moonlight and warm yellows and oranges underlighting. The overgrown garden in the front works as a flawless false proscenium. Take away the door, insert a girl, and you have a perfect Harlequin Romance cover. After all Sallman was an illustrator, and illustrators use art to sell stuff. In this case he sold Jesus…and quite well. It works on me.

This is the West. We in the United States live in a Judeo-Christian country. It is everywhere, on the money, the judge’s bench, and in the pledge of allegiance. Our greatest literary works from Shakespeare to Longfellow all demand a familiarity with the Bible as a progenitor of myths, metaphors, and exemplum.

We use biblical allusions daily in our common parlance, our political cartoons, and in our blockbuster movies like “The Matrix”. To the non-initiate, phrases such as “The writing is on the wall”, “Putting out your fleece”, and “He is a good Samaritan” have no meaning without a passing knowledge of the bible. On top of that some of the stories are so poetically beautiful that they stand alone on their literary power.

The joke in Buddhism is that it is an almost scientific attempt to categorize religion. Sure there is the eight-fold path, but each of those has ten steps, and each of those has four parts, and those have 6 intentions. In the West we just don’t have the stories of the Buddha, Shiva, Vishnu, or any of the writings of Lao Tzu, Confucius, or Amir ‘Abd al-Qādir al-Jazā’irī in our collective consciousness. This is why Jesus comes up so often in my writings, yet I am not a Christian.

The bible wasn’t the first moral text in my development but rather the Fables of Aesop. I knew of the “Boy who cried wolf”, “Rabbit and the Hare”, and “Sour Grapes” fables before I knew of Christian ones. I even knew stories from the Brothers Grimm and Disney long before the bible. Moralistic tales of the “Three Pigs”, “The Ugly Duckling”, and “Three Bears” informed my childhood more than the “Passion”.

However, people don’t have devotion, fist fights, and go to war over which pig built the better house. But, our world seems hell bent on an all-consuming fight over the dogmas of religion. The powers-that-be are stoking this fire and seem to be covertly instigating a world religious war…yet again.

Given the atrocities that have been wrought in the name of Christ, why then would that archetype/metaphor be anything that I (a man of peace) want to be involved in? The reason I believe is its relevance. People still believe in one “form” of Jesus or another and most people have at least held a bible here in the west.

Having taken it upon myself to test the assertions of Jesus, the Buddha, and every other religious totem to see if there is any worth to the claims they’ve made, I can gladly report that in my own findings, the assertions by Jesus, Buddha, Lao Tzu, and Aesop seem to be true. However, as I’ve discovered, it is in the application that I’ve found most practitioners flounder. I include myself in this category as well. I still am selfish at times. I still lust. I still am greedy at times. But, my intention is otherwise. That is where I see a big difference with most of the church. They seem to struggle actually putting into practice the precepts laid down. Some live in flagrant disregard to them.

If you call yourself a Christian and Jesus said, “Blessed are the Peacemakers.”- Then how can anyone be a soldier? Jesus said, “If you have two tunics, and you see someone without one, give him one of yours.” Yet how many Christians do we all know that have vast wardrobes? Hell, going to church for many is tantamount to a runway show. How many Christians have two homes while many sleep without one? How many Christians have extra rooms never used, but step over homeless people everyday? Jesus never said a thing about homosexuality, but he mentioned, “Feed the poor” how many times??? I think this is what he meant when he said, “On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name? “And then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; DEPART FROM ME, YOU WHO PRACTICE LAWLESSNESS.”

How can you be a priest/pastor and own two homes? How can any city in the United States, cities who have as many churches as most we do, have any homeless? Why do we have locks on churches or no trespassing signs?

How can you be a policeman or a judge and be a Christian? Did Jesus not say, “Don’t judge”? Did he not say forgive 7 x 70? People say, “Oh no, he was just speaking in metaphor.” Apparently the people in the first church didn’t think so!

“And the congregation of those who believed were of one heart and soul; and not one of them claimed that anything belonging to him was his own, but all things were common property to them. For there was not a needy person among them, for all who were owners of land or houses would sell them and bring the proceeds of the sales and lay them at the apostles’ feet, and they would be distributed to each as any had need.”

There are entire “Christian Industries now”. There is a whole “Christian Music” industry; all making lots of money. Companies getting rich making and selling bibles, trinkets, and votives at Christian bookstores and even in churches. Isn’t this what Jesus took a whip to in the temple? Many people are quick to say, “Oh you are just looking at the flock and not the shepherd.” But is not the church supposed to be the bride of Christ? Did not Jesus say, “You will know my followers because of their LOVE for one another?”

My dear friend scolded me the other day saying don’t be so hard on the Christians. She said so lovingly and sort of as a joke. This lovely friend help provide me with accommodation as well, and she is a Christian. (Thank you again) But it is the Christians that I hold to higher expectation. They have the book, they have the teacher, and yet they don’t open their ears but rather open their mouths and close their hearts. I suppose this is always true of any religion, but Jesus was really clear:

“For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited Me in; naked, and you clothed Me; I was sick, and you visited Me; I was in prison, and you came to Me.’ “Then the righteous will answer Him, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry, and feed You, or thirsty, and give You something to drink? ‘And when did we see You a stranger, and invite You in, or naked, and clothe You? ‘When did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’ “The King will answer and say to them, ‘Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.”

If you possess the book, and profess to know what it says, I hold you to a higher standard…just as Jesus did. Most Christians never see themselves as the Sanhedrin or as the Pharisees; unfortunately the similarities are all too striking. The antidote or the blueprint is there—get out and love your neighbor as yourself.

People ask me all the time what I will do when I am going to do when I am done with this pilgrimage. I don’t know, but I’m sure in 8,000 more miles I will have a better idea of what I am to do. But for now loving others in anyway I can seems the best approach. How novel, that is exactly what Jesus said to do.

I’ve really been bumming that I didn’t get to see my buddy Tom when I was in SF. I had such little time, and so many things to do…it just didn’t work out. Regretting that for the past month hasn’t gotten me anywhere however. Today as I watched some sailboats reaching as they sailed south toward Mexico, I thought of my dear friend.

Tom like me is on a path as well. He works his fingers to the bone as a carpenter and as I’ve said before he is an amazing writer. When he isn’t working around the marina saving some Sea Lion in distress, repairing an aging dock, or helping fish someones phone out of the toilet, he is working on one of his two boats.

Tom has always loved boats and the sea, but has taken to it with a vengeance as of late and has learned to solo his 45 foot Beneteau. Winds of the south seas call him, and soon he will ride his steed to the sailing playground of Mexico.  I wish we were all as brave as Tom, and all so willing to follow our dreams. Tom thank you for the inspiration.

As an artist, I’ve come to realize that I don’t really paint things, but I paint light. Among many painters there is a strong beliefs that all work should be done directly from Nature, and that the subject of all paintings, no matter the objects filling the canvas, should always be Light.

My mom wrote me something very endearing the other day. So simple were her words, but they pierced me deeply, and the depth of their penetration has not left me. She wrote, “You have always loved the sunset since you were a little boy. I can almost hear the waves crashing on the shore in your pictures. I want you to know that I love you, and it is not hard to support what you are doing. You are the best son a Mom could ask for.”

It seems that their is a golden hour in each of our lives when we realize the beauty of each person in our lives. There is a sunset everyday, each one different, each one beautiful. People are like that too. Each one different, each one beautiful. It seems that to get to that point we must become grateful for all of mankind, and each person in particular…and then we must forgive. Forgive them and ourselves. Forgiveness for all for forgetting—forgetting that each person is so valuable, beautiful, and the incarnation of God if you will.

My mom is the kind of person who has empathy for everyone. She is the kind of person that exclaims as an ambulance passes, “Geez, I hope someone is alright.” She is the kind of person who gives my favorite cookie recipe to another mother, because she knows that at least that mom can love on me while she is too far away. My mom is the kind of person who went without while I was growing up so I could have. Although she and my dad split, she never once said a bad word about him, but rather encouraged me to see him for the beautiful person that he is.

My mom isn’t perfect…who is. But, in learning gratitude, learning compassion, and learning love I’ve been able to appreciate my mother for the wonderful person that she is. Better yet, it is reciprocal. She knows the worst things about me, and she loves me anyway. My only regret is that my Golden Hour took so long to come. It seems that in painting and in relationships, the part worth noticing is the light.

Peace, Art & Love to all.

Well, it has been 30 miles since I started this morning, and I still need to find some place to stay tonight, but needless to say today was hard. I had a bit of a backwards mindset today, so it seems appropriate to tell the story backwards.

I saw the sunset above as I entered Oceanside. I had just left Camp Pendleton, a marine base that owns the entire coast for miles… 30 not very forgiving miles I had to cross. I wasn’t concerned, but rather interested to see how it would all work out. I mean, would they let me cross over this military establishment? Would they let anyone cross is one hurdle, but the next hurdle was would they let a guy with Peace Artist emblazoned on his shirt pass?

I have to say that I learned a lesson today. More people waved back to me on the marine base than at any other time in this entire trek. Everyone I met called me Sir and smiled. It made me really think about the fact that I am for peace. I am on a parade for peace for these beautiful men, women, and their families. What I forgot for a moment was that they are for peace too. We all are. As Corporal Rodriguez let me through the checkpoint, I said, “I hope my mission is successful and you can be at home playing with your son.” He replied, “Yeah, I’d rather be there too.” I think we all would.

Getting to the base though proved to be a little difficult. They were doing “maneuvers” and wouldn’t let me pass. I maneuver to avoid a tree, loading a ship with bombs…isn’t quite a maneuver. But semantics aside, I got to a point on old highway 101, where a bunch of guys with guns told me I couldn’t pass, and they said it would be this way all week. But, they said, “I can run on 1-5″. Now given my experiences with CHP I really didn’t like that idea. In addition, the fact that itWAS I-5 didn’t ingratiate the idea to me at all. To make it worse, the last freeway on-ramp was 5 miles back. I would have to back track 5 miles and re-run those miles; ten miles wasted. What was I to do?

There was a chain link fence, railroad tracks, a very steep hill, and super thick bush between me and the freeway. Agggghhhh!!! Frustration…or adventure…it all depends upon perspective. I started backtracking, and I found that I could go through 2 culverts under the road and train tracks to get closer. Getting me and the 120 lbs. cart up 5ft into the culverts was a whole different story however. 5 feet or 5 miles…easy choice. Sometimes I wonder where the strength to do what I am doing comes from. Grateful for that strength today.

So: 1. Down the bank 2. 5 ft up 3. Through culvert one 4. Up 5 ft boulders 5. Jump gap to culvert two 6. Follow railroad tracks 7. Cross swamp 8. Ascend 60 degree loose gravel embankment 9. Slip, slip, skid back down 10. Reach I-5 20 minutes later.

Now that I’m at I-5, a 5 lane 70 mile an hour freeway, I’m grateful that for the level grade and a wide shoulder. But the next stop was miles to go. But get there I did.

A vista point off the freeway offered a gate to get back on the bike path, but the cart was too big. So I had to take everything out and take it apart to pass it between the bars, and reassemble it on the other side. Am I starting to make it clear why today was a little hard. Once I was back on the path, I got stopped by yet another MP and told that I wasn’t supposed to be there. 30 miles are hard enough, but this stuff found me frustrated and tired.  Then I met Marty.

Marty lives in Tucson, but her mother lives in Orange County. She has been here for 2 months taking care of her, and then two weeks ago her mother died. So for the last two weeks she has been busy dealing with saying goodbye, the burial, and cleaning her mothers apartment and storage units. She made 20 trips to the Goodwill. Her mother was a professional antique collector, but Marty had no time or resources to get her collection appraised…so to Goodwill it went. I could tell Marty has just relieved to have it all dealt with. Her car was loaded up, she was on the road, but she needed a hug. I gave her a couple and I gave her this “peace”.

For the last two nights I’ve not slept too well either. I suppose it is to be expected since I camped in a dugout to avoid the rain. The wood bench being just a little narrow, the I-5 freeway being just a little too close, and my resolve beginning to wane, its no surprise that for the first time I questioned “What in the hell am I doing?” and “Is this really worth it?” Then tonight I met a man in a wheelchair that wanted to see the ninos in my cart. When I told him there weren’t any and about my trip, he gave me all the money he had…$1.47. Politely I refused, but he would not hear of it. “Felize Navidad”, he said. Humbled.

This is why I do this. I do it for him. I do it for Marty. I do it for all those servicemen and women I saw on the road, in the planes, boats, and trucks. It is for the soldiers on the obstacle course, those doing battle crawls, and those sliding down ropes out of helicopters.

It seems almost fitting. They have a hard day everyday. Everyday they do their best to serve their country and their fellow man as they see best. Ironic then that my most difficult day was done while passing through their midst. If they can do all that to try to serve me, who am I to do less in order to serve them.

I never really got the acknowledgement section of books before. Having never written one, it just seemed a little personal…an odd thing to put right at the beginning of a book. Having begun something much bigger than myself, I kind of get it now. The acknowledgement section isn’t for anyone but the persons listed after it, and the handful of people that know both the author and the supporter.

That being said, I wish you all did know my Winnie. More than any other person, she has supported this endeavor with fervor only matched, and at times even eclipsing my own. The list of ways that she has enabled this trek is so long that even I have trouble keeping track. But, needless to say she has cared for me from head to foot…literally.

Perhaps you have heard of the 5 languages of love: Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Acts of Service, Gifts, and Physical Touch. We all have ways in which we like to share and give love, and ways that we like to receive it. Often those ways aren’t the same. Winnie is a giver, she gives acts of service to everyone, and she gives gifts to all who are in need. But, as I’ve come to know Winnie I’ve learned that words of affirmation are her favorite way to receive love. Winnie you are loved.

There isn’t much I can tell you about Winnie as she prefers to be remain anonymous, but I can tell you that she did ask me one thing. She asked to be my 200th piece, and she asked me if I could—paint her single rose. Well, this is my 200th piece, and one single rose didn’t seem enough, so I painted a couple. Thank you Winnie.

Thank you to all the other “Winnie” people out there that have supported me along the way. 200 pieces in 120 days’ish. Here is to 9,800 more!

About a year ago I was lucky enough to meet a photographer who’s ideas were clearly in line with mine. Namely that art should be of benefit to others. The unfortunate truth is that while the poor are often the subject of paintings, they rarely own them. Part of my pilgrimage has been to give away works in order that everyone can own personal pieces, and in the process provide peace in one way or another. My friend John has found a way to do that same thing in his own way.

John’s latest show at the Gallery Paule Anglim at 14 Geary Street, San Francisco, CA 94108 415-433-2710 is titled Philanthropy. The show will run until December 23rd. This body of work catalogs items residents set on their curbs to be picked up by non-profit community organizations. All the images are photographed in the vertical rather than the horizontal as would be normal for a landscape thus furthering the notion that the photos aren’t pictures of the articles left out, but rather images of the residents themselves. The face of the philanthropist if you will. The images can be seen as environmental portraits, focusing not on what the items are but on how and where they are placed, giving an insight into the donros’ personalities. How people set out their items for pick-up at the end of their driveways and sidwalks are treated as still lifes by Priola. The work is in color (for the first time in over twenty years) showing the present tense.

In addition to this series of photographs, in the second gallery viewers are asked to bring items to donate creating something sculptural—growing over the course of the exhibition. This will be documented with a webcam and the live feed can be viewed on the gallery website: www.gallerypauleanglim.com

At the close of the show the collection will be picked up by a local charity CARH, the non-profit community organization Priola teamed up with to be the recipient of the generosity of the visitors. In addition, all the proceeds form the sale of the artworks in one of the two rooms will be given to charity as well.

I am humbled to call John my friend. At our first meeting over a year ago I shared with him my vision for the future, my pilgrimage, and the intention to use art to benefit and love others. At that time John was letting the ideas for this show ferment in his mind. It is such an honor to see that simple conversation spawn into a substantial show, and a massively powerful way to love.

John teaches and is the Director of the Department of Photography at The San Francisco Art Institute. It is the rival institution of my alma mater. It is noted for its more modern/contemporary approach to art making. As such the portrait of John above is an attempt to paint “modern”. I don’t know how successful it is, but it is my way to demonstrate my deep appreciation and love for my friend and fellow art maker.

As I strode down the street last night a man offered from the doorway of a bar, “The way to peace is through war.” I asked him to give me an example of where that had worked. I don’t think that he really believed what he was saying but being a former G3 in the military, it was obvious that he had been wrestling with the issues, and thus what prompted his comment.

Sean had served in a bloody battles to take the town of Sangin, Afghanistan. He said that he saw things there that shouldn’t have happened. Human rights violations that he can’t quite justify, but musters, “That is war…I guess.” Sean volunteered to go into the Marines for some, by his own admission, ‘noble and some not so noble reasons”. He comes from a long line of military men, and he felt trapped not really wanting to go, but wanting the love and approbation of his family more. He enlisted, and although he didn’t say as much, it is my feeling he would have been happier, in retrospect, with a different choice.

Sean is a big guy, and by the look of him, probably was a star athlete in high school. We shared our struggles for inner peace as easily as we shared the curb of this tiny town. I offered him the wisdom of Gandhi when asked about a “justified war” against the Nazis he said, “Even knowing the atrocities of WW2, I still advocate a policy of non-violent resistance. Yes, in following a path of non-violence there will be battles lost, lives taken, and sorrow. But, are not these things part of any war? Are there not battles lost, lives taken, and sorrow attached to any violent endeavor. The difference then is in the end all people can embrace as brothers in love despite grievances of the past.”

I was lucky to have met Sean, and in the end, we parted ways with a deep appreciation and respect for what the other believes and choices made. As I left Sean remarked, “See this is why I love San Clemente, you can meet so many cool people just hanging out on a street corner.” Thanks Sean, the feeling is mutual. Much love.

How many fish are in the sea? The more you take, the less there will be next year. The same is true with oil, however fish can reproduce. Oil is finite. There is a peak, a point when where the available oil and the number of barrels produced meet in apex. “Peak oil is the point in time when the maximum rate of global petroleum extraction is reached, after which the rate of production enters terminal decline. This concept is based on the observed production rates of individual oil wells, projected reserves and the combined production rate of a field of related oil wells.”

Even the most optimistic appraisal has us hitting peak oil in 2020. M. King Hubbert created and first used the models behind peak oil in 1956 to accurately predict that United States oil production would peak between 1965 and 1970. His logistic model, now calledHubbert peak theory, and its variants have described with reasonable accuracy the peak and decline of production from oil wells, fields, regions, and countries. It is highly probable that we have already hit peak oil.

“So what?”

Population has grown exponentially with the advent of oil based industry. As mentioned in an earlier post, everything has the touch of oil in it now. Even my pilgrimage has oil as a major supporter from my nylon sleeping bag, bivy, and cart. My plastic water bottles, shoes, and tires all are derived from oil. But population benefits from oil by means of pesticides, fertilizers, and mass production. What happens when oil becomes too expensive to make it profitable?

“Oil and its companion natural gas together make up about 60% of humanity’s primary energy. In addition, the energy of oil has been leveraged through its use in the extraction and transport of coal as well as the construction and maintenance of hydro and nuclear generating facilities.  Oil is as the heart of humanity’s enormous energy economy as well as at the heart of its food supply.  The following conclusion seems reasonable: Humanity has quadrupled the Earth’s carrying capacity since 1900.”

So when the oil goes…so will the population. When you have too many foxes, and not enough rabbits, the fox population starves until balance is achieved, or until foxes learn to be vegetarians.

Rather than learn to be stewards of the Earth, we go to war for oil to preserve our plastic way of life. Does it not strike anyone as odd that it seems we are working our way up the list and going to war with the greatest oil reserve countries?

BIG OIL PRODUCING COUNTRIES IN 2008

1. Saudi Arabia … 11 million barrels per day (13.9% of estimated world total)

4. Iran … 4.2 million bpd (5.3%)

9. Venezuela … 2.8 million bpd (3.6%)

10. Kuwait … 2.7 million bpd (3.4%)

11. United Arab Emirates … 2.5 million barrels per day (3.2% of estimated world total)

13. Iraq … 2.11 million bpd (2.7%)

16. Libya … 1.7 million bpd (2.2%)

Hmmm…we are in Libya, Iraq, and have been in Saudi Arabia and Kuwait since the first desert storm. There has been a lot of saber rattling about Venezuela.  Now they are beating the war drums about Iran. Recently they showed an FBI agent that has been supposedly a “hostage” in Iran playing on the old sentiments left over from the last failed US take over. Now a US spy plane was downed there? Based upon US history with false flag events, it seems most likely that we will see a bombing in Israel, probably nuclear, that will be blamed on Iran. This will get the US into another patriotic frenzy and warrant yet another “justified war”.

I’m not a bible man, but there is a verse in Matthew: “But woe to those who are pregnant and to those who are nursing babies in those days!” When there isn’t enough food, how will you decide who lives? When we are each rationed who will get a woman’s portion? If the mother, then the child dies, if the child then the mother dies…which means the child will die anyway. What then is the solution?

Start saving seeds, grow your own food, and learn to love the land. We are a generation removed from the land. One hundred years ago people knew how to can, preserve, smoke, and dehydrate. They knew how to make things, we have lost our ability to fend for ourselves. What about transportation though? We have had the technology for some time, whether we choose to use it or not.

However, no survival is capable unless we learn compassion for each other and for the earth. As Einstein once said, ”I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.” Please do what you can to love others, despite what they have done to you. Be the love.