Why We Must Stand with Standing Rock

Version 7
I had a vision once, years ago. I saw domed pods with underground connections set in barren landscapes. The sky seeped a burnt orange, not enough light for the thorny scraggly plants to flourish.

The domes were climate controlled and plants grew inside to create oxygen.Greenhouses spanned acres of land where food supplies were grown in chemical water under artificial lights when the skies were darkened.

‘Meat’ was grown in the underground labs,as there was not enough plant matter to sustain animals for food.

Agricultural workers lived in underground units within the greenhouse structures where they were paid in rations of the food they produced. If they had a crop failure, they did not eat either.Incentive to produce.

Occasionally, when they were over quota, they traded with ‘the others’ for illicit drugs, prostitution or art. Some of them had ‘arrangements’ with Pod people to get such ’goods and services’ for them.

They made up most of the work force, and it was one of the healthier places to live, outside the pods. All food was owned by the food cartel and was carefully controlled.

Wild animals were dying out though a few species were thriving. Cockroaches, earwigs, cats, rats, raccoons and coyotes had explosive populations in what was once the Americas.

Food was transported through underground tracks that led from pod to pod and into the greenhouse, laboratories and work stations that made goods for ‘the people’.

You could not breathe for long in the toxic landscape and the hungry hoards who scratched existence from what was left of the bombed out cities were less human than ever.
PTSD and psychosis from drug use was the biggest killer in those gang run ‘hold outs’ on the planet. These were ‘the others’. A life span there was 23 years on average.

No one went there willingly, but some said they were the last of the free ones.

Most humans lived in barracks and worked for one of the five major corporations that existed as government.

You could earn your way into a pod even if you were not from the right family or place in the world, but there was fierce competition. ‘The workers’ they were known as. Production of goods was the fourth largest cartel and they made anything the pod people desired.

Every day mobs of people lined up in front of the gated work communities hoping to be picked for a chance to survive. Some said it was ‘natural selection’.
Those that could work hard and add something innovative had the chance to live longer.

No one anywhere wanted to have kids anymore.

There were rumours of other places on the planet secret places where civilizations thrived still but no one had any proof of their existence.

Life was boring in the fancy pods.

Movies and most communication took place through computer-type devices and the entertainment world was the second biggest industry on the planet. Distraction.

You couldn’t go outside without endangering your health so whole worlds were invented for the mind to explore.Nothing real, just carefully orchestrated fantasy.

Life could be extended indefinitely if you could afford it but suicide rates were a real problem in all three known worlds.

Drugs were available for any mood you wanted to create and were free for those living in the pods. Workers could trade work or food shares for drugs and ‘the others’ could beg for drugs, or make toxic versions themselves.

The third largest industry, the pharmaceutical cartel, managed health and moods. They clamped down on illegal drug makers but the death penalty did not stop the labs in the bombed out remains of the old world from making stuff that killed the spirit and numbed the senses, just like the Pharma cartel was doing, only deadlier.

Most resources by far were put into trying to colonize Mars but that had faced many setbacks over the decades and the last ship had left over 20 years ago.

Some said the super rich were already there with their selected clones but hope still persisted amidst the dome people that someday they would get there too.
That was their only hope.

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It was a terrible vision, an ugly vision, a warning.

Some of us know that this is a moment in human history when we must fight.
We must draw upon our wisest warrior selves.
We must draw upon our basic humanity and we must heal our humanity.

We must NOT allow reality to manifest this vision.
We must fight against it with every breath we still have.

The corporate reality, the beast of the machine, must be confronted in every aspect of our lives that it has control.
We must stop being dependent.
We must learn to live without the beast.

Every one of us has had a moment in our ancestry when colonization removed us from the land, from our own spirit and forced us to become part of a collective.
Wars, mines, factories and office buildings, we were forced from the land and enslaved in the makings of fortunes of others.

For many, that happened so long ago we have forgotten we have ever been free.
For others, this was recent enough in history that reclamation of spirit is moving fast.

How do we reclaim our spirit, our connection to the earth, our remembering of who we are?

How do we get there before we become part of this vision of hell?

I believe it is an individual journey.

We are at that point in history where we can keep riding that arrogant machine of fear and hatred into that hell future or we can get off the train and start making peaceful camps and a new world.

We must find in ourselves the love of this planet, the love of humanity and we must build a new world based on that love.

We do not have to head towards that hell. We can build a new way together, and we must.

We also have available to us the accumulated wisdom of thousands of generations of people from every climate and landscape this planet offers.
We know by now what works, what makes a healthy community,a healthy mind and body.
We have all this knowledge, we only need the will.

It is time to become the earth warriors we were born to be.
It is not too late
it is just on time.

© Krow Fischer

Published by

Truthis

Meandering mystic makes meaning of life, relentlessly. Many mercies and memories collided to dictate a pathway, of least resistance. There must be someone out there, who wants social commentary and discourse on the state of our being, or not being. We are in precarious times. It seems possible we could do amazing things, tree villages and Eco-highways with solar cars, cure cancer and stop malaria. It seems we could save the world. But mostly it seems insane. So much greed and distrust, murder and corruption. Really horrible things are happening all the time, really horrible things. I wonder how we look, as humans evolving. If there is anyone out there, and I think there is, I wonder how we seem. These letters, I write to say what I see, to bear witness from my unique perspective. I believe we are like pixals, each of us a perspective of light,. We each see from our own view, and as we each light our perspective, the vision becomes complete. I am writing letters to let the cosmos know what I am witnessing here, being human at this time.

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