SEATTLE MON AMOUR


     Seattle, you're beyond crazy, and gentrified-like-hell. What happened? A lot has changed since I lived in communal punk houses in the University District in 1978 - that was the best time for roaming your freaky Last Exit coffeehouses, Gorilla Rooms, and Cellophane record shops. I left the USA (got refugee status in Canada during the Reagan years) and forgot about you for a decade, until you infected us with grunge and Nirvana'd out, after the anti-World Trade Organization protests in '99. Is that when Starbucks and Microsoft colluded to hipsterize you? Seattle, just kidding, the twelve days of Christmas I spent on Capitol Hill and Downtown, last week, were…..well, blind as one is in the sheeting rain, I'm really not one to judge….…….. 

   

Talk about a sacrilegious Xmas town?!!!

    Capitol Hill has unofficially declared itself a gender-free-zone, way-over-the-rainbow. There's no telling nobody, and why not? Posters on telephone poles inform we're on Indigenous Land, and others update the GPS co-ordinates of any Neo-Nazi within a ten-block radius. The Unicorn pub features mounted heads of deer, zebra, musk ox, moose, etc. on its walls (ugg!) yet, thank Goddess, draws the line at taxidermied unicorns…..The only landmark I recognize from my hazy past, the Comet Tavern on Pike…has, apparently, heard enough from the lyin' yap of Donald Trump…… 

                                

      Seattle, gratitude! The Crypts, Ononos, and Psychic TV at Chop Suey?!!! Beating the drums of war, we pop our cherries and pineal glands simultaneously, ecstatically floating in the starburst cosmopoliii. Only the ever-alluring, Genesis P' Orridge, Herself, can lead a space ritual potent enough to ignite moronic demagogues. Ho ho ho!

     Even the purple heather's heathen in Streissguth Park, a hidden gem of a Master garden off 10th Avenue, past St. Mark's Cathedral, where I sit in lotus, chasing the proverbial dragon, admiring the life-work of its caretakers…..later, I visit Twice Sold Tales, seeking an obscure fairy tale, "The Happy Prince", by Oscar Wilde, a story I recall from childhood, about a statue so empathic towards the poverty-stricken individuals he observes from his perch above the city, he asks a kindly swallow to pluck out his gemstone eyes, to sell for alms to the poor. Now there's some holiday spirit!!!

     Seattle, luv ya, cuz after walking the length of Broadway on Capitol Hill, past the pan-handling cynics outside Dick's Drive-in, the tango steps sculpted on the sidewalks, and the life-sized, guitar-riffing, statue of Jimi Hendrix, I come across a Farmer's Market in full swing, buying my favorite survival food, sunroots (a.k.a. Jerusalem artichokes) from a local grower, who's happy to learn they're rich in inulin…...these eclectic, organic markets transform the urban landscape, seed by shining seed…….

                          

  Seattle, your dancing artists striking a pouty pose, in the Triple Door Theater's production of The Land of the Sweets: A Burlesque Nutcracker, are nothing short of spectacular, and wear considerably less. The aforementioned author, Oscar "Aesthete of Bohemia", would've gaily showered their unveilings with lilies! Is Seattle the Big Apple of Cascadia? Comparisons  abound, and I've only described a teacup of revelations, in this shimmering, water-world, metropolis, surrounded by lakes, harbors and bays, drinking in the liquid light.

   

Come as you are, as you were  As I want you to be  As a friend, as a friend  As an old enemy

Take your time, hurry up  The choice is yours, don't be late  Take a rest as a friend  As an old

                      Memoria, memoria  Memoria, memoria

-- Nirvana

Church on Broadway, with rainbow banner inscribed "Come as you are"

EUGENE CLIMATE CHANGE MARCH

     In conjunction with the World Climate Change Summit in Paris this week, rallies and marches in support of stronger regulations / divestments of the fossil fuel industry are taking place across the globe. The event I attend, in Eugene, Oregon, is sponsored by the organization 350.org - 350 being the maximum parts-per-million (ppm) of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere the Earth can absorb, before subjecting us to the increasingly impactful effects of global warming - rising oceans, melting icecaps, extreme flooding, droughts, and fires, leading to population displacement, loss of diversification, and species' extinctions. (2019 update: 409.8ppm. and rising.)
    

 Before the march begins, we gather for speeches by local climate activists. Two young girls, part of a group of 21 kids who filed a lawsuit earlier this year against the federal government for their constitutional right to a clean and healthy eco-system, share their concerns for the future of our environment, leading a chant to “Keep it in the Ground!”

     

A theatrical skit, featuring a stand-in for the Governor of Oregon, Kate Brown, in the act of refusing a sizable bribe from an oil baron, draws encouragement from the crowd. Showing mad support for solar energy, over two hundred participants, wearing yellow and waving hand-painted sunflower signs, march with a giant Sun Queen puppet, crossing the bridge to Alton Baker Park. 

     At the park, we're handed black garbage bags to wear, forming a group oil slick, filmed from the sky by a peace drone (given the current administration's unlawful and inhumane use of drone-targeted "terrorist" assassinations, it's frightening to see one hovering overhead). On cue from our director, we transition from the dirty, black, fossil-fuel nightmare (BOO!) to reveal the powerfully-radiating, energy-solution-providing, SUN! (We reveal we’re wearing yellow t-shirts) Everyone bursts into song! Here Comes the Sun! Let the Sun Shine! You Are My Sunshine! and We All Live in a Yellow Submarine!

Guess who pedals by on his scooter to cap the festivities?  The next President of the United States! (hopefully!) Senator Bernie Sanders! Are you Feeling the Bern?

     On my way home along the Whilamut (Willamette) river, some hopeful graffiti under the bridge sums up my feelings for the day, catalyzing the dedication it's gonna take to ensure future generations have a vibrant rainbow home, with clean water and air, to raise families and grow gardens. ACT NOW! To reduce our carbon footprint and end rampant deforestation, we must also address the #1 cause of global warming- the cattle industry, which releases vast amounts of methane and CO2 into the atmosphere. LET'S EAT LESS MEAT!!! And....switch to cleaner energy sources to power our world.

Today is beautiful, but what about tomorrow?

Live from the New Internationalist at the Paris Climate Change Summit:
http://newint.org/live/2015/10/27/cop21/

BIG BLUE

Whale……
    Of mighty oceans,
         You have seen it all.
              Secrets of the ages are
                    Heard within your call.

 Teach me how to hear your words,
    And how to understand,
         The very roots of history,
              Of when our world began. 
                
      This  prayer, taken from the Medicine Cards of Jamie Sams and David Carson, affirms the whale as Mother Earth's Record Keepers, having transited from the land, back to the oceans, millions of years ago, when the Earth shifted and the ancient land mass of Lemuria sank  beneath the waves. Originally from the Dog Star, Sirius, whales use sound frequencies to access memories, ancient knowledge, and to communicate with the Collective Mind. Whale-medicine teaches us to harmonize with sounds and frequencies to balance our emotional body and heal our physical form. Their gifts are shared and accessed through telepathy, an open heart and conscious breath. 
     I feel infinite awe, respect and gratitude for the family Balaenopteridae, suborder Mysticeti, whose kin includes the humpback, fin, Bryde's, sei, and minke whales. Blue whales are the largest mammals on Earth, having once roamed freely the oceanic majesty of our planet, they are now, sadly, an endangered species. The wholesale slaughter of blue whales by commercial whalers in the late 1800's to early 1900's reduced populations from 300,000 worldwide to an estimated 5,000 - 10,000 individuals today. It was with great curiosity and consternation that we came across the remains of a blue whale last week, as we were traveling up the Oregon coast, along Highway 101.

     A week earlier, a young male had washed-up on Ophir beach, north of Gold Beach. When we arrived, a team of marine biologists from the OSU Hatfield Marine Science Center were taking soft tissue and blubber samples to determine the cause of death, and in the midsts of preparing the skeleton for later display. They shared observations that the whale had endured orca attacks and was severely emaciated, likely due to warmer water temperatures reducing the source of whales’ dietary mainstay, krill (the tiny crustaceans filtered through their baleen.) 
    The whale was 78 ft. long, weighed approximately one hundred tons, and his beaching was a rare event; as far as the biologists knew - the first to occur in the past fifty years (blue whales are not known to hug the shore, as migrating grey whales do, on their journeys north to Alaska to feed, and south to Baja Mexico to give birth). Blue whales have twin blowholes, spouting up to forty feet in the air! They maintain a traveling speed of 12 mph (with short bursts of 31 mph) and live alone or with one other, for upwards of eighty years. Blues eat an average of 40 million krill daily, and their calves drink 400 liters of milk a day! Their forté is singing enchanting songs of four notes, up to two minutes in length, both soothing and hauntingly eerie to listen to.     
     I was hoping to take part in a ceremony to honor the whale's life. It was disturbing to watch his body being hacked into and dissembled. In researching different cultural takes on whales, I read the Vietnamese people regard whales as sacred, believing them to bring luck, safety and prosperity. When a whale is found dead, it is buried on land, with a shrine resurrected in its honor. Thousands of people attend the burial and mourn the whale's death, as if it were family. They respectfully address whales as "Lord".

    Whales have been etched into ancient rock, carved in bone and stone, and mythologized in songs and stories, since the beginning of humanity's presence on Earth. Vital to the well-being of sea-faring, indigenous cultures, the Inuit people of the Arctic share a valuable message in The Story of Big Raven:

    One day Big Raven (a deity in human form) finds a stranded whale. Wanting to save the whale, Big Raven asks the Great Spirit for help. The Great Spirit tells Big Raven if he wishes to help, he must go to a place in the forest where the moonlight fell in a special way. Once there, he will find sacred mushrooms, that if eaten will grant him the strength to carry the whale back to the ocean. Big Raven agrees, and follows the Great Spirit's advice by going to the forest and eating the mushrooms. When he's done, he returns to the stranded whale and brings it back to the ocean.     

     This teaching invokes the need to search deep within ourselves, in order to heal the heart of Nature, and more specifically, that human nature is inseparable from the whole. To access courage and strength, wisdom and knowledge, we commune with the Earth's sacred plants, animals, and indigenous cultural teachings. Extreme anthropogenic climate change is causal evidence we are consuming and destroying our eco-system, through ego-driven greed and capitalist-consumerism. We may yet surrender the path of no return, seeking spiritual guidance to change our present destiny and that of our fellow sentient beings. If we'd listen to the whales, we'd realize the way beyond materialist pursuits for wealth / domination, and slow our heartbeats and breath, in order to harmonize and co-create with Nature. There's joy in the quest, as whales (and mushrooms!) evoke a giddy happiness (we once watched a humpback named Ursula jump out of the water, in full-body breach, twelve times in a row!)

     Whale-medicine continues to feature in modern culture. This

week-end, the Venice Oceanarium in Venice, California, is hosting its 20th annual group-reading of Moby Dick on the beach. A new film, In the Heart of the Sea, inspired by Melville's novel, is in vogue. Rather than witness the box-office-oriented, monster-themed-saga of an ill-done-by whale's (justifiable) vengeance, I am inspired to re-visit the 2002 film, Whale Rider, which brought tears to my eyes upon first viewing: the story of a young Maori woman coming-of-age, embracing tribal leadership through her ancestral relationship with the powers of the sea; deep intuition, grace, strength and mystical communion; quintessentially embodied by that Almighty of the Mightiest, and peacefully gentlest of the gentle creatures, the beloved Whale.

  Listen to the soothing sounds of whales and dolphins:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y-dmGhxyfpc

 CALI FARM CATS!!!

                                       Here-they-come, Miss Lily!!!

           Too-close!!! 

                           
Look-into-my-eyes…

                                          

                                                                  Oh-oh!!!

                            
 Don't-get-scratched!!!

       



         Takin'-er-easy!!!

Super-chillin', dude.

           
         Big-foot!!!

                            
      Barn-cat!!!

                                                                              HEY!!!        

                            Not-cats!!!

                            
                            Who-cares?! Let's-go!!!

SCARECROWS RISING!!!

THE TATTIE-BOGLE

The tattie-bogle wags his airms:
Caw! Caw! Caw!
He hasna onie banes or thairms:
Caw! Caw! Caw!
We corbies wha hae taken tent,
And wamphl'd round, and glower'd asklent,
Noo gang hame lauchin owre the bent:
Caw! Caw! Caw!
              -- Scottish, William Soutar

     Tattie-Bogle. Orang-orang (Malaysian). Kakashi (Japanese). Matarsack (Persian). Fuglekremsal (Norwegian). Espantapájaros (Spanish). These are the folkloric names for scarecrows, known to come alive and dance in the fields late last night, All Hallow's Eve, hay-splitting-from-their-sides and hair-a-flying-in-the-wind. Scarecrows are traditional Protector Spirits, 24/7 Guardians of the Harvest, on the look-out for black marauders (ravens and crows) and rutting ungulates with nibbling lips. The most famous scarecrow, played by Ray Bolger in the 1939 film, The Wizard of Oz, had a bit of a learning impediment. "If I Only Had A Brain!"
     Pagan mythology affirms the Scarecrow as the wisest of the lot - for example, a scarecrow in Japan's oldest surviving book appears as a "deity who cannot walk, yet knows everything about the world." The saying, "Everything there is to know can be found in your own back-yard" is attributed to them! 

                                       A Pumpkin-Headed Elder shares her heart…..
     

                                          Pumpkin-People Madonna with Child
     The valley regions of Nova Scotia celebrate 'The Scarecrow Invasion', when legendary Pumpkin-Headed People manifest, like zombies, during the Harvest season. Fiddles and penny-whistles strike up the tune, and hot apple cider's tippled 'round the bonfire. On November 5th, we set a-blaze scarecrow effigies of the radical anarchist, Guy, or Guido, Fawkes, who took part in the infamous Gunpowder Plot of 1605, a failed attempt to blow-up British Parliament. Mr. Fawkes has since become a role model for revolutionaries, his likeness, in the form of a mask (immortalized in the V for Vendetta film, from the popular graphic novel by Alan Moore) has been adopted by anti-imperialists and anti-capitalists in the Occupy and Anonymous movements.

     I enjoyed the raucous vibe at the Ukiah Pumpkin Fest in Mendocino County, whose theme is to "Grow Peace and Love." Children from local schools submitted scarecrows for the Festival's yearly contest. A Halloween parody of California's beloved rock n' roll / blues band, The Grateful Dead, won acclaim, entering the Hallowed Halls of Scarecrowdom, alongside iconic musician Jimi Hendrix!!! 

                   Scary Jerry, Phil Flesh, and Bobby Weird, Day of the Grateful Dead
                                               (oops, Phil wasn't the drummer, kids!)

                                 A psychedelic Day of the Dead altar for Jimi Hendrix!    

To read more about the complicated history of Guy Fawkes and The Gunpowder Plot:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guy_Fawkes

WANING HUNTER'S MOON

     Tonight I looked through 15-70 Celestron binoculars at the waning moon, which reached maximum fullness yesterday. I found the experience inebriating, the details stark and unforgiving. Untold centuries of the moon's bombardment by meteorites have left darkened craters, which resemble....a face pock-marked with acne? White-rabbit wormholes? More vibrantly, the moon's surface shimmers with an incandescent sparkle, a glitter or crackle, of blue luminescence. Nothing will prepare you for the sight of this neon glow, like snow crystals or diamonds in the sun. Other spots, once lakes, swamps or marshes, perhaps, appear to be grey blotches / infestations. Blights gone-wrong. Dead zones, spreading like a flesh-eating disease. Is She alive and aware of Her disfiguration? Zombifying? Does She know the wise ones who anthropomorphize Her Divinity?
    The moon is scarred. She has lived for billennia. Maybe even zillennia. Was She once a chunk of the Mother Earth? Is Her attraction with Earth's tides the ultimate seduction? She's been proclaimed a Goddess (and a God) by every culture alive and dead. LUNA. SELENE. CHANDRA. HINA. YEMAYA. IXBALANQUE. The Sacred Mirror of the Wiccan faith. THE MAKER. Her poison-blood-curse creates the Vampyr and Werewolf. Her magnetic pull induces the blood-moon of the Creatrix feminine cycle. Her Fertile Grace births our watery children. The One-to-Howl-Under. The Faerie Queen. The-Giver-of-Shivers. The salt-shaker-of-the-sea. The Moon-Man-of-briny-cheese. The Maiden Bride in her glistening white gown, enamored-of by the Sun, eclipsing their Alchemical Wedding. The silver spinner, waxing over our fate. Take care to know Her well. Sing of Her Lunar Eternity. Give thanks and praise for the feast-table, upon which our lives grow, month-to-month, by the Light of the Moon. And for those who have left us, surely they are guided by Her Light to their next destination! 

                       A Beacon for the Souls of Beloved Lunatics....

LINKS TO FUN MOON TRIVIA:

1) http://earthsky.org/space/coincidence-that-sun-and-moon-seem-same size 

2) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moon_landing_conspiracy_theories

On Harvest Assignment in Northern California

                                  How many legs do cows have, anyway?

     There's a fertile lush green valley in Mendocino, whose name will remain secret. Its inhabitants daily open my eyes to the whimsical, gentle and loving nature of…...pasture-grazing animals. In addition to their festive aromas wafting across my senses, I receive insights into the hidden side of their natures, experiencing (well, at least twice in the past week) epic dramas which blow my mind (and heart!).
     It began last Sunday afternoon. I'm sitting outside, in 90-degree heat, reading Aurora, the latest science fiction by one of my favorite authors, Kim Stanley Robinson. It's extremely hard to concentrate, however, and the trouble, it seems, is a very LOUD and relentless bellowing in the 5-acre field next to me. Beyond a mere moo-ing, this freedom-of-expression had an insistent edge, like anguished moaning. I stood up to pinpoint its source - a large, brown, female bovine, about fifty yards away. Noticing my attention, she responds to my telepathic inquiry "what ails you, dear Nandi?" by raising her head to the sky, increasing the intensity of her howling distress to encompass totality, including the invisible new moon.
     A mixture of pain, desperation, and rage, says my intuition, as I begin to freak out. I'm panicking because the day after I arrived in this ranch/vineyard/pear orchard/ganja paradise, I awoke to the sounds of a goat bleating in a similar fashion, and not knowing how to differentiate their varying cries, ignored it for a couple of hours, finally conceding to GO OVER THERE and console the poor dear, only to witness it laying on the ground, writhing in wide-eyed, death throes. I did my best, in light of no one else around, except my dog Lily, to pray for the release of its Spirit.....witnessing Death as Nature, etc.....now this cow was making me feel queasy about reliving that goaty horror.
     Clearly, she's trying to communicate something vital. I watch her beeline down the field, trumpeting all the while, and run up to the other cows, who are idyllically munching grass along the scenic mountain backdrop. Then, she abruptly comes back, causing several of the ladies to jostle her between themselves on the way. My immediate thought is dehydration? I fill up a bucket with water, while several mamas and their tiny calves (so adorable! with velvet-looking fur) investigate. Our heroine, however, isn't interested, and won't let up her crazy wailing for a nonce. Was it something she ate? Where's the cow whisperer? Is she pregnant? We need a medic here stat!
     Before I could make up any other scenarios, the farmer showed up. “What's the matter with her?" "She's missing her calf." Oh-oh. This sounds potentially ominous. I count six little friskers in the field, as the farmer walks farther down the pasture, with a grim look on his face. The Mama in question holds back upfield, surrounded by her sisters, waiting…..I sense their trepidation. We watch from afar as the farmer grows small, bends down in a thicket….and after a few minutes, lifts a tiny calf to its feet. It stands there, wobbly and unsure.
     When the rancher returns, he explained the calf had its legs tangled in the electric fence, which, thank heavens, wasn't on. He mentions this calf is partially blind. Meanwhile, we see Mama break into a run! Suddenly the whole herd comes together as a united front, orienting their heads and bodies towards the family reunion! This reaction of group solidarity and the bounding, joyful Mama, now nuzzling her baby, provides a sob-wrenching occasion. Boy, do I feel disconnected, having misread her intention - C'MON HUMAN - I NEED YOUR HELP!!! I'll try harder to listen, it's not every day I walk among these gentle folk….(I recall the time, in Hawaii, several years ago, when a large herd of cows, including bulls, were upset with me for picking their prized bumpy lemons, and proceeded to headbutt the tree, which I had hastily climbed. I barely got away with my life…….)

     I'm thankful this particular mishap ended well! A real Mother and Child Reunion - one of the highest love bonds on the planet (and a great song by Paul Simon!) The collective relief we experienced in this inter-species epic was further proof of our compassionate feelings for one another. Yet, my psyche saddens at the barbaric ways we continually let them down - the indignity, fear and suffering they endure, as slaughterhouse-bound, stock commodities, confined, factory-farmed, anti-biotic-pumped "meat" "dairy" "veal" - as anything other than the sensitive, loving beings they are, with lives as equally precious and unique as our own. 
     Why are we so cruel? The free-range, grass-pastured animals in this spectacular valley lead a relatively sweet life, with certain delayed, yet inevitable fates…if only we'd strive to lawfully create a sweeter existence for their kind, and to depend less on our craved addiction to their flesh. Who knew? the economic manipulation of this single species is responsible for the greatest environmental devastation of our planet? Ohh, what those deeply soulful, big eyes are trying to tell us…….

    
                 
To learn more, please watch the COWSPIRACY film (available on Netflix):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEk7KFMc-V4