Author Archives: Sha'Tara

About Sha'Tara

Reticence rules. I don't like talking about myself. Cosmic in awareness, I live for challenges to everything I believe, or think I know. I suppose my main focus is on the philosophy of social issues. I think that every problem is an invitation to all of us to work out the solution, and I believe that no problem exists that does not contain a solution within itself. All we are asked to do is unravel it. Life is like a Rubik's Cube. There is a solution, it's just a willingness to work at it until it emerges. On another note to all who read this, and read my posts: if you find anything there that you find interesting, or useful, feel free to copy, paste and use in your own works. Nothing is copyrighted, by choice. Ideas must be free or man is doomed to remain a slave forever.

The Reconciliation of Opposites and the Politics

I would have loved to be the one to write this essay, if I had Aishwariya Ramachandran knowledge and skill with words. This should be read by every single human being on this world, then seriously pondered upon.

Too much Too soon

It seems that over the last two to three years, there has been an increasing focus on partisan politics and the presence of identity in the public sphere. 

The ways in which we make sense of the world and the criteria and methods we use to do so have become decoupled from a common basis. We never really had this common basis, to begin with, but it seemed that we had a general and unifying sense that we were moving towards facts, reason and evidence-based policy, and away from the rhetoric, mythologizing and scapegoating that were the hallmarks of the great political upheavals of the last century, of National Socialism and authoritarian Russia and China.

Now, with the election of unprincipled populist candidates the world over, who have run successfully on campaigns of fear, division and false promises of wealth and security, it seems that we are far from being…

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Suicide, Near Death and Looking Back

[thoughts from    ~burning woman~   ]

It’s good, sometimes, to just look back. If nothing else, it’s exercise, even if the neck complains and desperately wants to crick and push the head to face forward again. The thing is, is there something to look forward to? Mind and head disagree, but mind wins. Head is but a physical appendage after all, some sort of contraption stuck on a poorly designed swivel joint above the body.

Let’s never mind that, it’s not what I’m interested in at the moment. I’m looking back, some way back, at something that puzzles me sometimes.

Have you ever attempted suicide? Or even seriously thought about it? Have you had what they call a “near death” experience?

I’ve tried to explain “death” to my self, but my self isn’t interested seeing as it doesn’t die, it just morphs, ever and anon and takes it for granted. This, that, the other thing, whatever: life goes on, chameleon-wise.

Sure, life goes on, of course it goes on. If it didn’t we wouldn’t be here. The thing is, hardly any of us have the least idea what we’re here for, or where here is, for that matter. Some of us (many of us, too many) resolve the question by putting faith in something, usually a god. Then they play with their mind toy, imagining that it says and does all sorts of things it never does, of course, but it doesn’t matter. Dolls, stuffed toys, a favourite blanket, a dog, a pet god, it all serves the same purpose: it fills a desperate need within the Earthian creature; a need with no bottom. It answers the “death” question by making the believer-fondler forget the question.

If you haven’t, try to imagine what it’s like to come out from under an attempt at suicide. You went to all that trouble only to discover that, as in most things in your life, you muffed it. You’re not only alive but in the same body you were going to get rid of. Oh well…?

Well, no, not ‘oh well’ because you have a revelation. You think: I was dead and I’m resurrected. That means I can be a different person than I was. I can change anything about myself that I want because now I’m a mutant. I don’t have to try to fit anymore, and I don’t have to give a flying you-know-what about what anyone else thinks of me because, well, I’m dead. I’m a ghost to those who see me. To myself I’m very much alive, but this self is not what that self was. That self is dead. This is a new self, or at least the mindset is new, even if the body isn’t.

So I look back and remember: that’s how it came about that I became a totally different person. I died. Then I came back so I could be a different person; so I could choose who me was going to be. When one is no longer bound by the old rules (especially the ones that make little girls cry!) there is a lot of choice and a lot of freedom at the head of that path. The old rules still make me cry, but I don’t cry for myself anymore, I cry for the victims of the rules.

“The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.” (from the gospel according to John, the New Testament)

Tu me Llamas “La Terrorista”

[thoughts from burning woman – visions of the future]

Tú me llamas “la terrorista”
but I was never a terrorist.

You came into my home in the night,
pulled my lover, me, my baby from our bed.
You made me watch as you tortured and killed my lover.
You stripped me and gang raped me and beat me
and you took away my baby girl.
You threw me naked in one of your cages,
to mock, to make sport, to make me talk.
Talk! Talk? What did I know? Nothing.
I asked, begged, pleaded, for my baby:
you threw acid to my face and laughed.

I escaped from your cage of terror, ran into the jungle
I was naked, starved, dirty and my face was burning:
that was last year, as time is counted. Or was it
the year before that? I found other dispossessed,
victims of your terror goon squads.
We survived, we hid, we found clothes and shelter.
We found more of our own and we vowed revenge;
oh yes, revenge the like even the gods had never seen.
We stole camo gear, weapons, computers, radios
then it began and we made it real in hand to hand combat.

For my face, a dozen of you lie rotting in the jungle.
For my lover, a hundred of you bloat and float
down the river, or lie in the fields to be eaten by pigs.
But for my child, a thousand of you will die, some
not so quick nor painless. I will ask you where she is.
You in turn will beg and plead your innocence:
“¡No lo sé! ¡Por favor!” and I will laugh, and kill you
one by one.  Not once will I feel regret, not ever!

I now wear my scarred face with pride. For a necklace
I wear grenades around my neck. At night
I sleep with a machine gun in my arms. My new lover,
he is very potent, walks his talk, gives me courage.

Your prostituted media posts pictures of me,
of before you burned my face and destroyed my life.
They call me “la terrorista de la jungla”
the woman terrorist of the jungle… but know this,
you who die at my hand and that of my comrades:
you made me what I am: the she-wolf deprived of her cubs.
congratulate yourselves!  While you die, think of the girls
you raped and tortured. Was it worth it? It better.

Like my hero, Che Guevarra, will you capture me
some day, torture me, kill me? Perhaps. But know this:
a fire that consumes the likes of you is sweeping this world,
from one end to the other, we rise, we rise:
we have learned this one thing, that though rising
may see us die, we are equally dead in your hands and arms.

No mas, no mas, no mas. La justicia nos llama y nos estamos
levantando!

[transl: No more, no more, no more. Justice calls us and we are rising!]

Razan al-Najjar Murdered By Apartheid Israel. Again.

It’s Sunday morning here, in Williams Lake. A quiet morning in which, for a moment, to hide from the world at large. Then this post came into my email and I wanted to step outside and scream! I wanted to cry invectives against all of Earth’s so-called humanity for not caring; for not reacting; worse, for supporting such murderous activities and justifying them. Forgive my bile, this makes me sick at heart.

THE ONENESS of HUMANITY

By Jerry Alatalo

“Truth is not only violated by falsehood; it may be outraged by silence.”

– HENRI FREDERIC AMIEL (1821-1881) Swiss philosopher

Razan al-Najjar

alestinian paramedic Razan al-Najjar was 21-years old on June 1 when she was struck and killed by Israeli sniper fire in Gaza. She was giving emergency medical assistance/treatment to fellow Palestinian victims of Israeli gunfire at the moment of her death. Close to 120 Palestinians have lost their lives while 10,000 have suffered injuries, nearly all as the result of Israeli military snipers’ bullets.

Her murder sparked worldwide outrage and condemnation, adding to intensifying criticism of the Israeli government headed by Benjamin Netanyahu, as well as the Donald Trump administration in the United States for its disappointing failure to respond in an appropriate moral manner.

The Israeli defense authorities added insult to the fatal injury inflicted on Razan al-Najjar by quickly producing and publishing a video…

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What am I doing here?

[thoughts from ~burning woman~ ]

An expanded vision and new sense of mind awakening tell me I am part of a greater whole; a piece of the greater human organism. They also tell me that this human organism is undergoing critical change and that such change is happening here, on a planet the People call Earth. They also tell me this is why I’ve chosen to reincarnate here at this particular time.

In the normal course of things, if “normal” can be used, I would not have manifested here for many hundreds of years hence. I would have patiently waited for these events to have their way and finally come in at a much more appropriate, propitious, time. The problem with that is, I would not have learned the things that are now allowing me to participate in the great change.

From “the Voice”: Listen, if human you believe yourself to be: humanity is mutating. Watch the polarization taking place within your great Religions; your Politics and your Financial/Economic systems. In each you can read the word: “Crisis!” In each you can hear the word: “Corruption!” From each you can easily draw a conclusion that reads: “Meaningless! It’s all become meaningless!” Where does that leave your civilization? Think.

The great System, or Systems, by which man’s current civilization has established itself and grown itself, have arrived at their point of entropy. They went from legitimacy to predatory immorality in exponential steps, culminating in global wars and global oppression of both, nature and man. The three great machines have fed themselves on the blood of those they rendered helpless and impoverished that they may make themselves and their chosen servants, fat and from fat, to obese. They have become instruments of distrust and disgust; corrupt, evil, perverted beyond any hope of restoration, served by zombies who believe that a number followed by several zeros is worth more than a human life; perhaps more than a million human lives. That is how low they have fallen.

How many times I’ve asked myself: what are you doing here? The answer is, I needed to be here to witness the fall of the Powers and of man’s collective civilization. My many lives here qualified me to be an observer and also, gave me the insight to develop a new philosophy that would replace man’s evil, dying trinity of Powers mentioned above. A terrible place and terrible time to be in yet an exciting time also.

Let’s look at this from a different angle. Above I write about humanity mutating. There is no denying that but here on Earth the planet is also mutating. In fact the two are symbiotic events. If one mutates and the other does not, the other will die. The old supporting ways are dying. For Earth, it’s the balancing predatory system that is failing. When the great predators that have maintained the balance of populations by pain and terror are no longer roaming and killing, what then? When diseases appear and man plays Devil’s advocate with forces he does not understand and creates chemicals and organisms to fight against the things he perceives as his enemy causing said enemy to mutate and make a mockery of such puny efforts, what then?

For man the time has come to enter into a complete change of mind; to take on an entirely new approach to life by learning to understand what life is.

I still get “the Voices” speaking to me and the word today was “climate change” and what it really means.

I want to address that issue. What is climate change? What’s causing it, if “it” is indeed happening? If it is happening, is it the problem some factions insist it is? Is it cataclysmic? I’ll tell you how cataclysmic climate change is: as much as it is for a butterfly to emerge from its coccoon.

Mankind is a physically short lived intelligence that does not remember either its past or its purpose. It has gotten trapped on a world ruled by evil forces it never made the effort to understand and to deal with. The rule of these forces is coming to an end. It’s running out of “food” and falling into disarray. Evil is entropic: it takes and puts nothing back. That’s how one recognized an evil power. Man’s great systems are takers that put nothing back into the environment they despoil for their own selfish ends. If the system itself is too “gargantuan” to be seen in its entirely, one needs but concentrate on those that constitute its leadership. In a “normal” world these leaders would epitomize the very best that mankind can achieve. Need I say more?

Concluding, we are here, not to fear change, or to spread blame and fear, or to form counter forces to try to salvage some aspects of the old status quo we happen to like, or agree with. We are here to observe the changes the planet is going through and to learn to detach from the horrors of the splitting coccoons. We cannot even teach the coming generations since they will not listen to our predator-based language.

It takes much longer for a human to metamorphose than it does for a butterfly but the concept is the same: the coccoon, the System, the Status Quo, has to go. All the consuming ways by which it has built and maintained itself must be allowed to go.

Know this, that if the “new” we bring about in any way resembled the “old” we’ve struggled and died to fix or maintain we will be no better off than before. New must mean new. Time to not only think outside the box but live there. That calls for detachment, self empowerment, courage and compassion, understanding, acceptance and a great deal of humour to lubricate the process. We must also accept to gracefully move out of the way of coming generations for their world will have no place for us.

Observing and learning this: that’s what I am doing here. It’s a good thing to know.

Quote: I’m fascinated by concepts of other realities, other ways of doing things. Nothing is fixed, nothing sacred, nothing metaphysically determined – it’s all contingent on process and evolution. That’s perfect. It means we might be able to understand, if we can just relax and shed our preconceptions. — Moving Mars, Greg Bear

Quote: The greatest enemy of knowledge is not ignorance, it is the illusion of knowledge. — Stephen Hawking

 

 

 

Week Two of the Williams Lake MDS Caper

[Thoughts from ~burning woman~ by Sha’Tara]

How appropriate, I think, that baleful sobriquet, title, alternate “me” called ~burning woman~ at the end of week two in Williams Lake in process of rebuilding some of the homes lost in last Summer’s wild fires that swept through this small town of approximately 10,000 people.

The devastation left behind by the fires is still very much in evidence. The city proper was spared as it did not provide the kind of fuel such fires require to sweep ahead as they jump from tree top to tree top, race through dry grasses, jump across small lakes and even wide rivers pushed by high afternoon winds, some generated by the fires’ own heat.

Though many homes and animals, both domestic and wild, were lost in the fires, no human life was lost that I know of. The evacuation done by various government departments, backed up by some military presence (that mostly to prevent looting) made sure everybody was accounted for. Not all “survivors” who lost their homes are happy with the heavy-handed presence of law enforcement. Many know  had they been allowed to remain on their properties, using their Canadian farming and ranching common sense, they would have saved their homes and animals. Power may have failed but generators were available to pump the deep wells and roofs as well as grounds could have been watered. It never fails to amaze me how well totalitarianism works in a democracy!

What to say: am I happy to be here, doing this volunteering to help essentially homeless people get a home back they could not otherwise ever have again? Let’s say I’m satisfied. The work is hard and dirty – this is King of the Gumbo country and if there is as little as one rain shower, your feet are immediately clotted with a compound that would shame LePage’s Premium glue. Gumbo, i.e., the world’s most persistent mud can add 3 to 5 pounds of clumping mud to your foot in four steps.

Plus, it is both, stifling hot and freezing cold in turn, on the same day. Three days ago we arrived at our work site in 3 inches of sleet deposited during the night. It didn’t melt until late in the afternoon.  Good thing was, it severely slowed down the swarms of mosquitoes ever on the prowl for blood. 

Nevertheless, our house, which was footing and Styrofoam forms when I arrived is now standing proud, awaiting the delivery of the roofing trusses. Not bad for on average 2 to 4 volunteers a day. And no: it wasn’t prefab!

As I said before, these volunteers are Christian people, mostly Mennonites. As for me, well, let’s say I’m acceptable because of skills, providing my own truck (GMC 3/4 ton van) and a LOT of tools. Plus I was baptized in a Mennonite church many decades past. As I said jokingly, “I don’t know what happened, folks, but it didn’t take.” I guess you have to be born in it, not just born again.

Anyway, yes, they mostly support Donald Trump and believe he’s doing a wonderful job- to be expected. They wish Canada would become part of the States – to be expected. They hate our Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau – to be expected. And they hate labour unions, also to be expected. In other words, they are right-winged to the core and it isn’t a matter of thought but a matter of faith cum brain washing. Except for Justin Trudeau, of whom I have no opinion, he being a liberal means it’s pointless to have an opinion of him, I’m basically opposed to everything these people stand for or believe in… yet here we are, drawn to this part of the map to do the same thing, with the same purpose in mind. What does that say but that as human beings we are united in the only thing that matters?

Imagine a world in which people (all the people!), though they disagree on every aspect of religion, politics, economics, and social norms see a desperate need and come together, working their asses off responding, rebuilding, restoring and in the process bringing hope where there is either none or it is badly shattered.

Next week is next week,  the show must go on!

 

Crazy Train Rolls Into Work Town

This is just too good and funny to pass up, have to reblog. Oh, please idon’t miss out on the comment section!

notestoponder

Every so often crazy train rolls into work town. Usually we hear it coming, sometimes signals fail. Crazy train doesn’t discriminate, we never know who’ll climb aboard.

Image result for crazy train

Yesterday crazy train rolled into an all day professional conference for doctors. Repeat client, nothing too fussy, routine conference defined by breakfast, morning break, lunch and afternoon break. Despite leaving for work at 4:15 am, I looked forward to seeing this client again. Remarkably, special dietary requests were few, only one in fact, a Dr. B who identified as Celiac. I remembered Dr. B from the last conference – requested gluten free meals, rather than eat our food, provided her own meals to re-heat. No problem Dr. B, I’ll warm up your gluten free pizza.

This morning Dr. B arrived with Tupperware boxed lunch and polite request to reheat when appropriate. A few minutes later one of my servers presented a zip-loc sandwich…

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