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.

Obsolescent and Pointless


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

I’ve been thinking a lot more about man’s civilization.  There’s a word that keeps coming up: obsolescent.  According to the definition, that word means something is on the way to becoming obsolete.  Implied: it isn’t there yet, but most likely to become so.  We know that all systems tend towards entropy, a state in which no energy is available to do any work.  It’s there but not in any usable form.
To plagiarize the “Good Lord” and his introductions to some parables: “And to what shall I compare this Earthian civilization?  There was a man who was looking for transportation, for a car.  He walked and walked and came to a town, not surprisingly named “Car Town” and he being in search of a Car, decided to find one in this town.  He walked around and counted eleven car dealerships.  Every dealership, he noticed, had hundreds of cars for sale, compact, subcompact, medium size, and some big monsters.  There was a wonderful array of colours of cars to choose from, and many sales people waved at him from office windows, and from the yards.
    Finally he entered a dealership and was accosted by a saleswoman who excitedly brought him to their special of the week.  It was a lovely car.  He asked for the key so he could try it out.  Her face fell at the request, but she dutifully produced the key and he tried to start it.  It turned over but wouldn’t start.  Another car did start but died just as he was entering the street.  Another had two flat tires.  On and on.  He went to dealership after dealership but none of their cars worked properly.  There was always something wrong, or he could tell that none would last any length of time and he’d be wasting his money.
    Despondent, he walked out into the outskirts of the town, towards the slums.  Over the barking of dogs and the jeers of kids “just hanging” he heard the sound of a motor.  Intrigued he went down an alley between derelict house trailers to find a young girl and a boy working over a cart in which was installed a small motor.  He noticed that the motor had a v-belt pulley and a belt that went to another pulley on the rear axle of the cart.  The girl got in the cart and engaged a lever that pushed an idler pulley against the inside of the v-belt, thus transferring the power to the rear wheels and the cart jumped forward and she threaded it through several obstacles in the yard, then down the alley and disappeared.
    The man approached the boy and said, “That is an amazing piece of work, and it can be used for transportation as well?”  “Yes” replied the boy, “my sister is going to use it to fetch groceries and stuff for granny and granpa ’cause they can’t walk to the store anymore and it’s dangerous for old people to walk the streets – they are often attacked by gangs of kids, for their money.”
    “I see” said the man, “So when you are old enough for a license, you’re going to buy a real car from one of the dealers in town?”
    “Not a chance,” replied the boy, “None of their junk works.  They used too, so says granny, but they rushed and rushed to build them, using cheaper and cheaper parts so they could display more cars but eventually they were so badly built none of them ran.  I’m going to build my own car once I can afford to have proper parts made for it.  I have a friend whose mom is a welder, and my teacher was an army engineer.  He’s going to help me build it.  I don’t imagine it’ll be fancy, but it will run, that’s the main thing.” 
    Thus endeth the parable. 
    There are many I realize, who still hope and pray and wish, and have faith in the greater love of man, that those beautifully useless cars in the dealer car lots of Car Town can yet be fixed and put on the road.  I can’t blame them for their faith in man: I’ve been there and I know how hard it is to let go of the self-delusion and face the music of the times.  This civilization isn’t going anywhere but down.  It is obsolescent.
    It is more than obsolescent, if that wasn’t enough: it has become redundant, pointless, meaningless.  There will be nothing new to sprout under this sun. Let me mention a couple of things I read about recently that illustrate where this society is going.  You be the judge here.  The following quote is from yesterday’s article by George Monbiot titled, Urge, Splurge, Purge – monbiot.com
    QUOTE: “A system that depends on growth can survive only if we progressively lose our ability to make reasoned decisions. After our needs, then strong desires, then faint desires have been met, we must keep buying goods and services we neither need nor want, induced by marketing to abandon our discriminating faculties and succumb instead to impulse.
    You can now buy a selfie toaster, that burns an image of your own face onto your bread – the Turin Shroud of toast. You can buy beer for dogs and wine for cats; a toilet roll holder that sends a message to your phone when the paper is running out; a $30 branded brick; a hairbrush that informs you whether or not you are brushing your hair correctly. Panasonic intends to produce a mobile fridge that, in response to a voice command, will deliver beers to your chair.
    Urge, splurge, purge: we are sucked into a cycle of compulsion followed by consumption, followed by the periodic detoxing of ourselves or our homes, like Romans making themselves sick after eating, so that we can cram more in. Continued economic growth depends on continued disposal: unless we rapidly junk the goods we buy, it fails. The growth economy and the throwaway society cannot be separated. Environmental destruction is not a by-product of this system. It is a necessary element.”
    Can a society pushed willy-nilly by such marketing techniques, have any future?  Does it deserve to have one?  Let’s try a simpler question: what would it take, using any of the tried (and failed) methods of religious-political-financial self-correction, to fix such a society?  Rhetorical questions, to which we all know the answer(s).
In the New Testament (Christian bible) the book of 1 Corinthians, chapter 13, verse 13 concludes with: “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love.  But the greatest of these is love.” 
Let’s look at that because many people get a good, warm, emotional response from reading this quote.  It’s pure propaganda, and poisonous to the mind.  As a detached, self empowered being I have no need of faith, hope and love, nor is love the greatest.  It isn’t “love” that makes people support the system, to the detriment of everything that has any qualifiable value.  It’s primarily faith.  Faith makes people cast about for an answer when they sense that something isn’t right.  Faith says, vote in someone else, or buy a different brand or type of food.  Drive a different car, or use public transit.  Install solar panels on your house and “get off the grid.”
As if!  Are the appliances used, the food ingested, the roads used, the water, sewer, computers, heat or house construction, maintenance and repairs “off the grid”?
A better question: can an entire city of say, 10 million people, exist without a “grid” to make it function?  Isn’t a city in essence a machine?  A machine needs many things to function before it even begins to operate whatever it is supposed to operate.  Are the mines that scour out the minerals that become the metals that are used to build high-rises for example, “off the grid”?  Are the gas and oil companies off the grid? No.  The Tooth Fairy is off the grid, of that I’m pretty certain ’cause the Tooth Fairy doesn’t live in any city.  She only visits to leave small change.  But no city, and no resident of said city, can ever claim to live off the grid.
Can we say, let’s go off the grid incrementally, as is now proposed in so many articles and books available to read?  Unless we mean only one small aspect of “the grid” (say, hydro electricity) our efforts are entirely wasted unless we also control the source of the materials we use to “go off the grid” with.  The biggest problem with the “off the grid” chimera is technology.  You cannot have any technology and claim to be moving off the grid: it won’t let you because “THE GRID” is what technology is all about.  It is THE GRID.  Just think “Internet” and try to imagine THAT being off the grid, and see where that leaves you.  In the dark, and I don’t mean the dark web.  Your ISP is THE GRID.  Your government and banks are THE GRID.  And so on, and so on.  Everything Matrix is grid.  Nothing is incremental about the Matrix: it’s a dictatorial power, all or nothing.  It will let you use solar or wind power if it can profit from it, and control how you use it, and how much.  Can’t put meters on wind, or sun energy? Hah! Bad bet.
A California based water corporation, I think it was the Bechtel Corporation, managed to have laws enacted in certain cities of Latin America whereby they “owned” rain water and the people literally had to rebel against their local councils to regain control of their right to collect rain water without having to pay for it.  Those who collected rain water without paying a tax on it were fined, or jailed.  Oh yes, it is all about money, never about life.
And… that is why this global civilization is obsolescent.  It has become a predatory, bloody, sectarian, self-centered, selfish, decadent exercise in utter stupidity, foolishness and meaninglessness.  When this entire global civilization collapses and dies, so will the Matrix die with it.  Whatever survives of the Earthian ISSA beings will be of necessity “off the grid” and they will build something truly new, something as yet unheard of.  This isn’t “hope” on my part, it’s from the certainty of observation.
Oh yes, we can “see” the future. It’s not “nothing” as yet.  It exists, of necessity, since what we construe of as “the present” is simply the future sliding past our observation point into the past.  If we can “see” the future as little as a minute hence, that means it already exists.  If it exists a minute hence, it exists beyond any time definition.  We can learn to stretch that minute into years, centuries, millennia even, since “time” is an artificial construct of our #1 enemies: the Time Lords.  Some people call this state of awareness “imagination” and some say that those who see the future are “the dreamers” but it is neither.  What it is, is a reality we have been told is taboo to look into.  Why don’t we stop being children, stop living “by faith” and grow up?  It could mean billions of lives saved, not to mention much of the planet’s ecology.
What to think, when all around of what is familiar is being destroyed or falling apart?  Know that it is not a death, but a renewal.  The cocoon that has nurtured and constrained man’s civilization is breaking open.  A scary necessity. 
I want to do more than see my wings: I want to use them.

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I Discovered Kurt Vonnegut

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

Quote: “Most writers waste people’s time with too many words. I’m trying to reduce everything down to the minimum. My last work will be a blank piece of paper.” — Samuel Beckett

{did you say “typos”?  Ok, let me fix that, for the grouches and grammar Nazis…}

That’s right, that’s what the title says, I discovered Kurt Vonnegut.  I don’t mean by that that I never heard of him before, I’ve heard of Kurt Vonnegut since, well basically puberty, when politics, politics and politics became so important to me I started reading fiction in Earnest (a diner that used to belch barbecue exhaust on the eastern end of town), and then in my spare time as well.  (Yes, that is, indeed, a misplaced modifier – I just thought it looked better here than there.)

Having discovered Kurt Vonnegut, I thought I’d finally, finally, get to read Cat’s Cradle, which the entire world has heard of but few have read.  So I got that, but a few other books decided to tag along and now I’m reading “Breakfast of Champions.”  Ultimately, in this life (or the next, life’s funny that way) I will get to read Cat’s Cradle, honest, I will.

But this isn’t about Kurt Vonnegut, or Cat’s Cradle, or even Breakfast of Champions.  This is about writing… and reading.  So then, allow me (and how could you not? – got you there) to re-preface this with, “So many Writers, so Little Time (to Read them All!)”

In the worlds of writers and readers, I’m primarily a reader.  When I write it’s for the pleasure of reading the stuff for my own entertainment or edification.  Oh yes, forgot to mention that when I write I haven’t got a clue what I’m going to write about, or what I’m writing about, or where it’s all supposed to go, therefore there can be but one reason why I should write and that’s as already stated.

Having said that, I have a massive complaint, as a professional reader that is.  When I decided to become a reader, I naturally set upon the task of reading all that was ever written.  I mean, how to choose, right?  So grab something, anything, written, and read it.  I would eventually have read all that had ever been written still extant.  I was after all quasi-literate in 2.36 languages, already a huge head start.  I could multi-task, even reading while driving (that came later and it takes some getting used to by other drivers on the same road, but that’s their problem, right?  Just get with the program and all will be well) or doing other menial tasks for which AI’s hadn’t been invented yet.

But then came a heart-stopping, bone-jarring, mind-numbing realization: Writers!  Contrary to what my English and French teachers insisted upon, these critters weren’t all dead smart guys.  Some still lived and they still wrote!  Not only that but a whole swamp of wanna-bees hummed and buzzed in the undergrowth.  Books, books and more books were piling up and bookstores were graduating into high-rises.

Then came the computer age and… ahhh, a bit of respite as bookstores went broke and closed.  Newspapers thinned out.  Magazines became things you whispered about if you didn’t want people to guess how old you were.  For a few brief moments it looked like a recognized author could get by with writing a couple of novels in a lifetime and retire comfortably somewhere in Greece, preferably near a nude beach and a decent telescope – don’t assume I’m talking only of male writers.  After all, writers who become authors have imagination.

Anyway, I was getting nicely settled back down to my classical reading of Frank Herbert, J.R.R. Tolkien, The Canterbury Tales (just kiddin!) Isaac Asimov (Yawn!) and Alice in Greenland (well, why not?  Do YOU know where that rabbit hole goes?) as well as Little Women when there was a loud ‘bang!’ and just like that, there was an Amazonian Internet explosion and from it began to… you guessed it… ooze out more and more books, not from authors, but from writers!  Not only that, but as time went on, this Infernal Internet decided it could TRANSLATE books written in languages that sourced somewhere in the back of the Horsehead nebula, so that any and all books could be read by anyone with only a rudimentary grasp of her own maternal language.

So, I read (make that past tense) and read (still past tense) and read (now in the present) and it’s the punishment of Sisyphus all over again. It’s the 13th Labour of Hercules.  I will drop dead one day soon, and my face will fall and be absorbed inside the FBReader library.

Imagine this: A couple of days ago I innocently took on a landscape job in Yarrow (that being a little town S-W of here, and yes it is named after that weed).  There was a nastily overgrown backyard in a corner of which was a cute little cabin.  Mystified, I looked through the one window and there, at a desk, facing a computer, was a person, a people of the Earth variety, engrossed and staring at the screen, and the fingers tapping out a dance on a keyboard.  OK, thought I, must be an accountant or some such person working from home.

Imagine my crest fallen chagrin when the people person stepped out of the cabin with a frown, but also a hopeful and winning smile, and asked me if I’d seen her kale plant.  ???Say what?  I looked over the gargantuan infestation of weeds… “It’s around here somewhere” says the person, and by pulling at the weeds with a hoe, sure enough, I uncovered a starved, skeletal pale kale thing which beheld the sunshine for the very first time in its short and now totally traumatized life.  “Could you place it out of harm’s way while you clean out the weeds?” added the person.

By then I was getting very suspicious about the person’s computer activity, meaning, who asks to have a 97.2% dead kale thingy transplanted – in the middle of September?  (Keep in mind I’m writing from the Northern hemisphere here and even if Climate Changed temperatures insist on hovering in the 80’s F – and who knows what Celsius would make of that, silly Roman, it’s practically winter here.) 

I said to myself, I know what sort of people person this is… I just know.  So I slyly asked, “How did your garden end up like this?”  If only I had just shut up and stayed with my first assumption!  Stupid me: the mental grenade exploded:  “Oh, I’m a writer, an author actually, and I’m behind on a deadline so no time for gardening this summer.”

Aaaaarghhhh!  #@%#!!! Another writer!!!  It’s like they’re literally coming up out of the weeds and woodwork.  And I had her within reach of my various implements of destruction too!  Good ground a-plenty for a decent burial, and all the necessary tools at my disposal.  Yes, although it’s pure cowardice on my part that that writer is still alive and clacking away to her deadline, I am proud to say that I did not attack her, or otherwise attempt to do her in. 

With total self-control I turned around, slowly, counted to 13 in both directions, and turned back with the fakest smile ever produced and said, “Ah!”  Needless to say, but I’ll write it anyway, just in case, she assumed I was expressing appreciation at the thought of another book on the ether-shelves and smiled broadly and boldly.  Don’t people ever realize when they’re this close to death?

But the books… well, they keep piling up, and up.  As the Preacher observes wryly in Ecclesiastes,  (that would be from the Judaic-Christian bible for those of you who forgot and remain disconnected) and I quote: “Of the making of many books there is no end, and much study wearies the body.”  Even then, thousands of years ago in what was practically prehistory, when they hadn’t even invented paper, someone was already in my predicament.  Faced with such impossible odds, it’s really no wonder people turn to God in despair.

The Art of Drowning -Episode 2.6

A deep “feel” thing. Give it a whirl – it’s a quick but lingering read.

Not Very Deep Thoughts

The Fume of Sighs – by Jac Forsyth

The fall from heaven isn’t measured in rage. It’s measured in last steps. Begged and crawled, each one of them, blade down to bone.

So it was that death and dominion were lit from the same match. And those who had followed me saw the artillery of rage, and took it for my heart. They didn’t know that I was lost, trapped in the distance between one breath and the next. And I tried, my love, I tried. To tell them how it was the fall that held me. So small in its claws and teeth. And my tears tight to its chest in lullaby. Hell may have taken my soul in retribution, but for all its circles of torture, it still brought me more comfort than a star-sky of unanswered prayers.

I don’t remember the arc of that first dying. Just…

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The Stories I Could Tell

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

Oh the stories I could tell when I set my mind free from the tick-tock revolving thoughts of only this is true and the rest is all fake and fiction.  But it’s late and I don’t have time for even one story, or perhaps I don’t have the energy left to write one down.  I do, however, have something to say that may cause some raised eyebrows, or some knowing nods of partial agreement.

We live in a strange sort of reality where all the things just seem to repeat themselves, whether these “things” happen over millennia, or over days.  We exist, while here, in cycles of happenings.  How can that be when we claim to have evolved, and to be evolving?  Shouldn’t we be honest and say we have revolved and are revolving?

All right, brass tacks.  The reason we keep “revolving” and “revoluting” (which does not necessarily mean we are revolting but it’s tempting to look at that as a truism).  What it really means is, by not trusting ourselves, and I mean “myself” as an individual, self knowing and self-empowered, we endlessly turn to systems to carry the responsibility for life.  We ask systems to do that which our mind is designed to do, and would eagerly do for us, and that is, take responsibility for all aspects of our own life.

What’s wrong with relying on systems, you may well ask.  Well, there’s the obvious, that they keep bringing us down; keep destroying anything good we once in a while decide to build – say, declare our nation to henceforward by a democracy with freedom and justice for all, irrespective of, blah, blah, blah – until next thing we know we’re plunging back into some unthinkable dictatorship; some authoritarian regime ruled by some religion, some financial system, some group of plutocrats or elitist apparatus and we wonder what the hell happened to our dreams.

I’ll put it briefly for now, it’s late and I’m feeling it.  The problem with systems, any and all of them, small or large, is that they tend to exclusiveness and absolutism.  All systems, bar none, can only grow or die, they can never simply be setup to run, like a machine for example.  They must swallow up all competitive systems, or be swallowed up.

How many times have we observed this; how many times do we see this now; how many times have we wondered about that?

What’s wrong with competitiveness that is motivated by absolutism?  It’s totally evil; life destroying.  Life can only exist where there is natural balance but when a competitive force rises above all others and establishes itself as “the” ruling force, that system reaches entropy exponentially.

There is such a system ruling planet earth today, and that system is called “man”.  Not individual people living and working together to produce a healthy living balance through sharing or allowance, but the man-system; a system primarily driven by Earthian males and primarily fed by all those who by decree are forced to be subordinate to the man-system.  Those who feed this competitive, now ruling system, are its victims, even those who think they benefit from it.  Over time the system rose above individuals to rule all and sundry.

Is there a way out of this horror?  I can see but one and that is to become self-empowered.  To look at the system and with or without proof, declare it to be anti-life and a massive lie in which there is not one iota of truth and within which there is nothing that can be trusted, or even fixed.  The self-empowered individual will challenge the machine, the man-made, man-ruling, earth-ruling system at every turn and through great effort, danger and very possibly loss of life, will eventually cause the monster to crash and die.

What will happen to civilization if the system collapses, implodes, dies of entropy?  A civilization built upon oppression, repression and massive death through calculated famines, genocides, wars and systematic poisoning of land and food sources must not survive: it must die with the machine it built and fed.  Only free individuals can outlive the monster.  Only self-empowered individuals can live without systems, be they religious, political or financial.  They are, all of them, but chimeras but what a job they’ve done of convincing people they can’t live without them.

So I say to those who continue to believe that they can tweak this system thing; that they can fix parts of it; legitimize some of it and recycle other parts, you are extremely naive.  None of it can be converted into life-giving energy: its nature is killing and dealing in death.

Yes, it’s hard to let go; to watch something you’d spent years working to support, or used to support yourself and perhaps a family.  It’s hard to tell the younger generation, don’t drive our old machine, it’s a deadly poisonous system that has no fix.  Let it die while you dream up something new; something that has a chance to become an equitable, just, fair, open, kind, simple way of life for this earth; something that allows free room for all types of life interacting here; something that knows nothing of taking, of fear, of killing.

Utopia?  Of course.  It’s the monster’s lies that has convinced people they cannot have a utopia on earth.  It is self-empowerment that will call for compassionate interaction and eventually re-awaken our natural heritage we call empathy.

 

To Trump: how to win the war in Afghanistan

Two Rappoport reblogs in a row? Well, couldn’t pass this one up: Jon clearly explains to Donard Trump how to finally win the war in Afghanistan. Funny thing is, though tongue in cheek, it would work!!! I mean, it works in Canada. The US totally owns this counrty without (hardly ever) firing a shot on, or in, it – and when they did, circa 1812, it kinda backfired. No, they won with pop, fast foods, Big Pharma, down-graded education, Reaganomics, intimidation, clunky cars, Rock n’Roll and false camaraderie of political handshakes behind the next pipeline. Yup, it works, and will work, no matter who it’s done for. Wonder if our playboy prime minister “Trudump” would agree?

Jon Rappoport's Blog

To Trump: how to win the war in Afghanistan

by Jon Rappoport

August 28, 2017

Win the war in Afghanistan? Impossible, you say?

Dear Mr. Trump: it can be done, I assure you.

There is a pattern. It’s tried and true. It’s been tested in America for decades. So let’s rely on this accumulated wisdom and put it to good use. Finally.

Ready?

Buckle up. This doesn’t need an executive summary. It isn’t a position paper. It’s an all-out attack. Let’s roll!

From hundreds of planes, drop fast food all over Afghanistan. Burgers. Fishsticks. McMuffins. Legs, breasts, wings—two weeks of chicken done right. It’s a good intro. Lightens everybody up a little. Hey, they’ve been cooking vulture over yak excrement for centuries. They’ll love the change. And the numerous chemicals in the food will begin to slow them down. That’s a given.

Then, from those same planes—candy! Fifty thousand tons…

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Antony Sutton, Skull&Bones, Hitler, the Bush family

Another great Rappoport article. This is a quote from the article that should explain why it should be read, and pondered:
““What would have happened if millions of American and British people, struggling with coupons and lines at the gas stations, had learned that in 1942 Standard Oil of New Jersey [part of the Rockefeller empire] managers shipped the enemy’s [Germany’s] fuel through neutral Switzerland and that the enemy was shipping Allied fuel? Suppose the public had discovered that the Chase Bank in Nazi-occupied Paris after Pearl Harbor was doing millions of dollars’ worth of business with the enemy with the full knowledge of the head office in Manhattan [the Rockefeller family among others?] Or that Ford trucks were being built for the German occupation troops in France with authorization from Dearborn, Michigan? Or that Colonel Sosthenes Behn, the head of the international American telephone conglomerate ITT, flew from New York to Madrid to Berne during the war to help improve Hitler’s communications systems and improve the robot bombs that devastated London? Or that ITT built the FockeWulfs that dropped bombs on British and American troops? Or that crucial ball bearings were shipped to Nazi-associated customers in Latin America with the collusion of the vice-chairman of the U.S. War Production Board in partnership with Goering’s cousin in Philadelphia when American forces were desperately short of them? Or that such arrangements were known about in Washington and either sanctioned or deliberately ignored?”

Jon Rappoport's Blog

Antony Sutton, Skull&Bones, Hitler, the Bush family

by Jon Rappoport

August 27, 2017

The prodigious author and researcher, Antony Sutton (1925-2002), wrote about hidden men behind momentous events.

I recently came across a 1999 interview with Sutton, conducted by Kris Millegan, researcher and head of TrineDay publishers.

Millegan wrote about Antony Sutton in 1999: “Antony C. Sutton, 74, has been persecuted but never prosecuted for his research and subsequent publishing of his findings. His mainstream career was shattered by his devotion towards uncovering the truth. In 1968, his Western Technology and Soviet Economic Development was published by The Hoover Institute at Stanford University. Sutton showed how the Soviet state’s technological and manufacturing base, which was then engaged in supplying the North Vietnamese the armaments and supplies to kill and wound American soldiers, was built by US firms and mostly paid for by the US taxpayers. From their largest…

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