What do bugs teach us?

Long ago, before seven dust, Furadan, Temik, Diazom, and all the rest of the 21st century's arsenal of chemical weapons there was a time when the human animal stared over his food crop helpless to defend it against the hordes of insectae. Did he muse and paw over his squash and beans like a chimpanzee grooming its kin? Maybe picking and eating them (the bugs) one-by-one too, like multi-colored Halloween candy, or perhaps it was more sophisticated; as in, did he scrounge around finding predators to drop into the gardens battlefield? Maybe they just shrugged and went fishing leaving the women to fret over wilting leaves and festering fruit. The latter seems quite amusing.

I contemplate this as I take up my eggplants leaf in my hand while cradling it like a wounded puppy. Top leaves all curled and furled up like it was cursed with a disfiguring form of elephantitis.

A few aphids wander the stems being chased by a long march of ants, and a nearby assassin bug climbs a squash canopy while I consider the crime scene. I peer up at the garden rows to see carpenter bee's, honey bee's, beetles, stink bugs, and all manner of unidentified flying objects darting amongst the bounty of zucchini, cantaloupe, tomatoes, and peppers. Scaled up it would make for a great alien invasion sci-fi opening scene....just add the lasers. You could sense the excitement in the tiny life creeping, crawling, and flying around. Despite this attack my eggplants were bearing fresh pods that grew a little every morning. I have the white version making the fleshy pods dangle like ivory earrings. My cantaloupe vines were racing to the Southern fence and already bearing fertilized bulbs hidden under large green leaves. Long cayenne peppers dangled nearby while tomorrows zucchini swelled to picking size. Except for the effected eggplant all was looking good. Life was surely being drawn here like to a banquet or buffet, and with this drought it was one of the few areas that received regular watering. I could just imagine the life that was crawling unseen in the dirt, through the roots, and under the toiled clay. Surely microscopically there was even more buzz and commotion taking place. There was so much going on it was as if the earth itself was "breathing."

So as the aphids swarm and the stink bugs suck I contemplate our own infestation on a planetary scale. Where is our preying mantis? Where is our lady bug? Where is the seven dust to sprinkle on the human swarm? Now that I think of it, the idea that a xenomorphic mantis; like in the movie alien, chasing us around ready to punch a hole in a few brain pans sounds kinda interesting....scary...but interesting. Can you imagine a human suck head slurping on Sarah Palin's brain, I know it's a small meal for sure, but can you picture it? Maybe some tiny parasite or bacterium is ready to clear the deck of  humans too. Our numbers really haven't soared to these unprecedented levels until the last century or so, so maybe the lady bug man killers are just evolving in some pool hidden in a dwindling rain forest. Some say we'll just go the way of yeast, killing each other over the last spoil of resources until there's none. Well darn, a human hunter killer sounds so much more suspenseful. Could be just a rock from deep space playing pool with the universe. One big galactic fireball that sends a state size plume of rock and earth into the stratosphere. Save us all from the slow misery of starvation. Probably all happen given enough time.

Humans aren't special.....just another bug in the bushes.

Right before our eyes

Under the blue skies and right before our eyes.......

There are two different worlds. One of them is in the minds of men, and the other right before our eyes. Very few of us see the real world. We've been blinded by this shroud of human illusion, a shroud that thickens and smothers the light as we solidify our ideas and beliefs. It's a slow and steady process that begins from the moment we're born and ends with our blinded soul having grown weary of the darkness. It's not a question or idea that's new - that we live in a world of darkness - as enlightened people have been telling us this forever. Wise guru's and mystics have rooted themselves to cliff tops and retreated to caves in solemn contemplation pondering such musings for thousands of years. Nothing new in revelation that hasn't been revealed before, yet we still see the shadow of illusion cloaking the world of men despite this. Why?

Especially since the light of truth is "right before our eyes." Let me explain. Imagine that you're one of the lucky ones, an astronaut, and you're up in the international space station orbiting our gorgeous planet. You stare out one of the ports pointed towards Earth and see the planet, its continents, its oceans, the clouds, the tree's, the lakes, the rivers, and so on. You see the continent of Africa coming into view. The Congo, Tanzania, Libya, Ethiopia....oh, but wait, you don't see any such thing. All you see is mountains, jungles, deserts, rivers, grasslands, and coastlines. You don't see countries, nations, dividing lines, tribes, dictatorships, and all the illusions of what humans pretend exists. It's all made up. It's all illusion. Truth? It's right before your eyes - One pretty planet, one species of man, oceans, rivers, and land.

Not this....

It's not just whole planets we've woven a fictitious world around, it's people too. Do we really see each other? People walk around with a false world in our heads that we seldom see them clearly. I assure you that we have mapped out a whole world of expectations upon meeting a stranger. Black (check, he might be loud, like tacky jewelry, the world owes something, etc), blond (dumb, shallow, sexual), Republican (watches Fox, god fearing, likes the rich, hates welfare), etc, etc, etc, yada, yada, yada. We sit and talk online, at water coolers, on the phone with our friends about people and places we've never actually been to, lived, or experienced. We speak with authority and arrogance, a kingly ego that pompously lays judgement using illusionary concepts. These ideas and belief's can spin a lifetime of meaningless conversations, arguments, and debates. It destroys our power, our unity, and obscures wisdom. What an absolute shame and a corruption!

If great teachers of the past - Jesus, Buddha, Gandhi, Mother Theresa, Solomon, Rimpoche, etc - could not remove this falsity from the minds of men, than what hope is there? Why do you think they meditated? Why do you think they were of few words? Why do you think they were in control of their emotions? TRUTH! It takes mediation to clear the illusions. Because truth is simple, it takes few words, and emotions come from illusion.

Truth is the light! Light is in everything around us, a reflection of creation, and it only takes an innocent eye to see it.

Nature could care less.

Today's weather was one of those rare days where temperature, humidity, light, and wind become a window into conditions found only in heaven. Two Blue Jay's engage in playful aerial acrobatics while I sip my morning joe of hazelnut coffee. A cardinal and his mate dine on the sunflower seeds I put out for them. Everything alive was out and about celebrating Spring time in their own unique way. I was but a witness.

 Unbeknowest to the woodland creatures that play in my world, the mighty river north of here was spilling its banks, breaking levies, flooding farmland, and destroying homes. A drought had withered and destroyed most of the crops in France. Another fire broke out in the ongoing nuclear disaster an ocean away, and somewhere in the world people were plotting to kill one another. Scientist release a report that shows the Cryosphere melting far faster than their worst predictions a year ago. Jobless claims soar like a giant industrial hiccup, and European finances give a shutter. Anxiety and worry everywhere....but here. It was as if the energy of life was immune to these disharmonics, and it carried on in its natural state of bliss. I was absorbed in it...a genuine rapture. The wisdom of things playing out around us each and every day has stood the test of time, it has seen animals of all sorts come and go, the mountains washed to the sea, and the new ones rise from them. Surely, the proclivities and moribund decay on display presently has been seen before. Surely, the dynamo of creation will weather it. I ponder this as I stare at a lizard pondering back at me.

It doesn't seem to care....in fact nothing around me seems to care. The breeze seems to laugh at my worry as it tickles my fancy to pull the canoe out and try that new bass lure. Ha, ha, ha, it chuckles blowing across my neck. Ah what the heck, life is too short and miraculous not to carpe deum heavens window. Everything is simplified on days like this. The canoe and gear loaded on the back of my small truck, a back window busted out of it, and a bill collector hounding me in payment - of which I told the caller that if they show me the road to economic recovery I'll show them a payment. The humor was missed by them in their cubicle world, and I merely shrugged off my worries thinking of the redwing blackbirds that would be dazzling me with their aerial show.

A small family was gathered at the boat launch with poles cast and a small toddler throwing marshmallows to a baby alligator a few feet away. The scene was charming and would make a great painting. They were very friendly and encouraging, "going out to where the fish are?" Why yes I was. Tackle bag, cooler with cold water, pole and new lure, paddle, knife, and cell phone. The Canadian made canoe slipped smoothly into the swampy waters as a loud bullfrog croaked and grunted. I was off into unknown coves filled with alligators and mysterious swamp monsters. My paddle dipped into the murky rich waters making my conveyance slice a path to the unexplored Eastern cove of "White's Kitchen" bayou. I tested my new fofangled bass lure along the banks as I drifted. The jitterbug, or so it was called, was shaped like a frog and designed to skim the waters surface. It's antics of flipping and flopping like a wounded toad would surely pull the delicious bass out from their hidey holes. I sent my cast here and there with a steady retrieve while watching all manner of swamp life croak, chirp, burp, crack, whistle, slap, bellow, purse, moan, gurgle, and what have you. So much life talking. What were they saying...I wondered. The red crested black bird was busy chasing the ducks as they quacked when my lure plunked into the water.

No fish reeled in after nearly an hour cruising the eastern banks. I continued taking the canoe into a twisted cove that looked forlornly like the den of a giant alligator. Surely, I would look to big and ugly to be messed with, but who would see me if something did happen? I laughed at the thought letting the idea drift off like a fairy tale. The sunlight was reflecting across the green expanse of hyacinths, pickerel weed, swamp milkweed, and spider lily's. Dragonflies, butterflies, damselflies, and love bugs flew about like wicked fairies. The muddy water was still and beckoning. It was time......

I cast the lure across my private gator den listening to it hit the water and paddle back on retrieve. After a while of this I became indifferent to whether or not anything would ever strike, but then, then it happened. Bam! The fish hit with vigor and I had my first fish of the day. The feeling of a catch strikes a primitive cord. The human animal triumphant once more!

Then another....

Once again, nature freely provided. 5 in all and I even had a chance to tease a three foot alligator gar as it chased the bait back to the canoe. Fish, turtles, and gators were all having their meals too. All the life around freely giving and taking. No money involved at all. No law. No rules. No leaders. Just the freedom that natures gives at birth. It is only humanity that makes up the rest in order to enslave.

You only have to look outside to see that nature doesn't care about our worries, our fears, our rules, and our effects. It only gives and takes....freely. Something so resilient, so lasting of hardship, so endowed with wisdom can surely endure us.

Nature could care less.

Dust to Dust

For a blog dedicated to the musings of "Dust in the Wind," the month long weather we've been having in coastal MS epitomizes this description. Once again, another cold front has swung through only to fizzle East of Baton Rouge. My friends in Texas report even more dire drought conditions. The dark and cloudy day teased and tantalized but gave no relief other to usher in a cold May evening. I was down at the volunteer fire station picking up my bunker gear, jump suit, radio, and medical gear when one of the firefighters complained about the chilly wind. I only smirked and said, "this is but a Vermont heat wave." Having endured a long New England winter I wasn't complaining about temperatures in the 40's...ever...again. The next few days here are destined to be delightfully March like with temps in the 60's and lows in the 40's and 50's. No rain unfortunately, so I'll continue working the sprinkler feeding my growing vegetable garden.



This picture is from several weeks ago, but I have tomatoes, eggplant, zucchini, cucumbers, peppers, cantaloupe, lettuce, and butter lettuce planted. All of them growing well in a tilled bed of horse manure and dark earth. I'll try and get a more recent photo. While we pray for rain, the dry weather has been perfect for what I needed to do around the house; that is, my friend and I have been steadily clearing the acreage for further use. This would've been impossible if the season was typical of South MS this time of the year.

Working out in the woods, chopping, and chainsawing tree's while chaining up to the felled pines was brutal work, but I could only imagine the vigor of pioneers armed with a mere axe and set of draft horses. Whole days were spent working on ONE stump in the old days. It's days when I'm drenched in sweat, my joints ache, and I'm fussing over horseflies that I pause at imagining life without oil age contraptions. I thought I'd take advantage of my unemployed free time, no waiting at the diesel pumps, and the dry weather to get this done, a long over due project. I still have days of dragging small tree's out of the woods to toss on a 20' high burn pile. I don't know when it will ever get burned with no rain and a persistent burn ban. I've been trying to work out a deal with the fire chief to carry out a practice event using my conflagatory tower of pine tree's.

Tomorrow I'll be volunteering in Slidell, LA at fire district 1's station helping them cover 911 while the regular station crews attend the funeral of David Smith, a firefighter that was helplessly gunned down at his house. http://slidellsentry.com/articles/2011/05/03/news/doc4db73c4fd24a0223411893.txt

May our brother make a happy transcendence.

(This is the oak tree behind the house that I wish to be buried under)

Dust in the Wind

A lesson in bugging out

Many of my friends and followers are probably aware by now that I have left the green mountains of Vermont to my old home in the marshy coastal woods of South MS. There was no one reason for this to have happened, and I my decision was not an easy one. From January to March it was becoming all to clear that the transplant to Vermont was not "taking." My heating bills were piled up, my home back in MS was being robbed, ransacked, and generally trashed by renters, and my wife was full of melancoly and vice over being so far from family. The teaching opportunity that I had so hoped for at White River Valley EMS never really materialized thanks to a Vermont rule that there can only be one state instructor per district. Under all this pressure I began to focus on the qualities of Vermont that I didn't find so attractive - cold for most of the year, attrocious roads that destroy vehicles, no family, and little opportunity to ever have a place of our own. Property is crazy high for a state that has little in the way of industry or jobs. Owner finance was profoundly rare. I was also having trouble adjusting to New England society. I'm not reserved or secretive - my heart is on my shoulder, and I never did figure out their sense of humor.

Still....I wanted this to happen, to make this work, and to stick it out. It was an adventure! If I wasn't married, a decision that I don't regret, I would still be in Vermont today despite the difficulties, but alas providence meant for this to be a lesson. To all those members that sent me money to help out in moving to VT, I thank you from the deepest of my heart. Maybe there's no meaning to it at all...I don't know....I'm just human. I made a friend with a forum member that lived in Montpelier a few weeks before I made the decision to leave (back in March). I of course had no financial where-with-all to up and move back despite the financial situation necessitating it. After several commiserating conversations, and a spendid drink of bourbon, he was kind enough to lend me the necessary money. I had the decision to use it to get back, or to catch up on my bills, but since my home back in MS was robbed and now rentless with copper thieves on the prowl, I made the decision to move back before my financial window was closed. I knew gas prices weren't going to improve so my exit window had to be made quickly. Expectently, this didn't sit too well with my landlord or my employer, but I acted on priorities of survival - financial or otherwise.

Even with the money that was loaned to me the trip back would be prohibitive. For some unknown reason Uhaul and other moving companies charged nearly twice for a truck to go back as it was to move up. Logistical demand is what they told me. I called my very dear friend, close friends since third grade (more than 30 years ago), to come up with his 18' trailer and F250 4x4. I looked into renting a uhaul trailer, and found it fairly inexpensive compared to a moving truck. I rented a small enclosed trailer that my pickup could haul and we loaded everything else on my friends trailer. But of course I had to pay for my friends fuel to come up, to go back, my fuel, the trailer rental, and so on. It was no easy achievement financially to pull the move off. I still owe Gillespie hundreds of dollars in heating oil and my VT utilities still are not paid. I left the home in Brookfield clean and well cared for, hoping the landlord would just let me go without pursuing the remainder of the lease legally. By grace I haven't heard anything since in that respect.

My wife had left a month earlier, in Febuary, to go back and look for a job. After looking for over a month she had found one in Metairie. She works for a property insurance firm now. Not much money but it gets most of our MS bills paid. I knew my job search upon coming back was going to be very difficult as I had heard that paramedic positions were far and few. I wasn't to be disappointed. So my days since returning I have been sharing the time looking for jobs, clearing my property, fixing what the renters destroyed, planting a vegetable garden, and days taking my Canadian canoe out into the bayou's to fish. Any activity that we can find that doesn't cost us anything. I have tried to advertise some teaching revolving around suturing, emergency medicine, and IV's on the various forums. There's been some encouraging feedback that suggests there is a desire out there for that type of stuff. I hope to be making trips to teach in the near future. My first visit will probably be out west with some members in California and Arizona. Suturing lessons seem to be the most popular. http://www.theoilage.com/megadooms-consultation-outline-t3266.html.

Let me know if anyone that follows my blog would be interested. I'd be happy to offer these lessons for free, but I need the money badly at the moment. Still running from the debt hounds. I also have been out harvesting water hyacinths to sell on ebay http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=170632804952&ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT 

Suturing and IV's will become a very valuable set of skills when societies depravidity evolves into a full blown meltdown, and mother nature comes in to sweep up the pieces.

BP oil, ungodly summer heat, and mighty hurricanes are concerns of mine once again, but at least I'm back in my element, my wife is happier, my family and friends near, and my Vermont experience enshrined in my soul. Like the nature of this blog, I too, am "Dust in the Wind."

Goodbye Vermont, I will miss you.