“I dreamed there were a whole bunch of fireworks that shot to the sky and exploded. They made a big picture of Mickey’s face.”
We Can Shut Our Eyes to the Horror in Front of Us, but We Must Never Close Our Hands to a Kin in Need – Johanna Rosberg | TheSeeds4Life.com
What you want for yourself, is what you must try to offer to others. You might take your freedom and rights for granted – but what about theirs? What about your neighbor, or your friend, a man on the street, or the estranged child on the other side of the planet? What can you do for them that you would want them to do for you, if the roles were reversed?
And something about working in a notebook frees me up to make this mess without worry or guilt. I can’t explain why exactly. I’ve tried to see if there’s a scientific basis that connects working longhand with uncritical creativity, but evidence for that notion seems pretty scant. The actual work of shaping letters one by one, though, seems to turn off the part of my mind that hesitates and likes to second guess. My conscious mind kind of goes away. I think it helps that I know my notebook is just for me, a private thing, almost like a diary. The work becomes a recorded daydream.
Read the entire piece at Joe Hill’s Thrills | Scribble Scribble.
“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.”
This! This right here! I finally leave mum’s house, meet a wonderful man and move in together to start our new life, and I settle into my new life and happiness
PANIC SETS IN because one of my sisters can’t get her shit together and yells at me about it on the phone. Because my mother will always see me as her baby girl and not the woman I’ve grown up to be MORE THAN 12 YEARS AGO. Because three moves, falling in love, and starting my own family wasn’t stressful enough. Because of so much family shit packed into 30 LOOOONG years I am a fucking nervous wreck.
I am not your therapist, nor am I your journal/diary. Do not call to complain about things I cannot control because all it fucking does is make me PANIC. You (plural “you’) ALL know I suffer from panic attacks and fucking ptsd so you best remember this: If you want to continue to be in my life in any meaningful way, then you will restrain yourself (plural again) and be civil in every last one of our fucking communications or, I swear to you, there will be no further communication between you and I. I will answer your calls again, but if/once they turn for the worse, then the call is over.
I don’t know if this is a form of Tough Love, and I don’t really care. All I know is this is now affecting my health very seriously. And if my family, my literal flesh and blood, can’t bring themselves to care, then so be it. I will always love you, even though you never believe it. But I will not die for you. I will not lose my sanity for you.
I am shaking so bad right now. I’m ready to cry again. Fuck. Fuck this shit. I need chocolate.
“To all the girls whose thighs touch, with stretchmarks laid like gold across their backside, with bellies too full for any inadequate hands, thank goddess for your abundance.”
~ Kim Crosby
IT’S becoming clear that we can grow all the food we need, and profitably, with far fewer chemicals. And I’m not talking about imposing some utopian vision of small organic farms on the world. Conventional agriculture can shed much of its chemical use — if it wants to.
This was hammered home once again in what may be the most important agricultural study this year, although it has been largely ignored by the media, two of the leading science journals and even one of the study’s sponsors, the often hapless Department of Agriculture.
The study was done on land owned by Iowa State University called the Marsden Farm. On 22 acres of it, beginning in 2003, researchers set up three plots: one replicated the typical Midwestern cycle of planting corn one year and then soybeans the next, along with its routine mix of chemicals. On another, they planted a three-year cycle that included oats; the third plot added a four-year cycle and alfalfa. The longer rotations also integrated the raising of livestock, whose manure was used as fertilizer.
The results were stunning: The longer rotations produced better yields of both corn and soy, reduced the need for nitrogen fertilizer and herbicides by up to 88 percent, reduced the amounts of toxins in groundwater 200-fold and didn’t reduce profits by a single cent.
In short, there was only upside — and no downside at all — associated with the longer rotations. There was an increase in labor costs, but remember that profits were stable. So this is a matter of paying people for their knowledge and smart work instead of paying chemical companies for poisons.
And though critics of this path can be predictably counted on to say it’s moving backward, the increased yields, markedly decreased input of chemicals, reduced energy costs and stable profits tell another story, one of serious progress.
“At the age of ten I watched Grandma brush and pin up her long salt-and-pepper hair. “Grandma,” I said, “you could look twenty years younger if you’d just dye your hair.”
“Why would I want to look twenty years younger?” she asked, sounding truly curious.
She didn’t know? Everyone wants to look twenty years younger, I explained. I was sure of this because I’d seen it on TV.
She kindly told me that twenty years early she’d been forty and hadn’t had anywhere near the experiences she’d had now. “Sixty-year-olds have had much more interesting lives than forty-year-olds,” she said. “Why would I want to look like a less interesting person?”
Twenty years later an oddly colored strand of hair appeared near my ear. I tugged it loose and showed my best. “It looks like it’s filled with air!” I said, holding it up to the light.
“Honey, it’s gray,” she told me gently. After waiting a moment to let me absorb the news, she asked how I felt about it.
“Fine,” I said, a little surprised to feel the truth of it. “I’ve been looking forward to this day since I was ten years old.”
via The Girl God.