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Dead Virus Effect

Ireland

Ireland

by Mr. Unknown

A great green island

Sit down for a brew

In drafty wood pubs

For an hour or two

The jewel of Europe

With legends passed down

St. Patrick the hero

His holiday is now crowned

Crumbly stone castles

And graveyards for view

On this emerald civilisation

Cheeriness is A hue

History is abundant

In Galic past time

Wars fought with England

For borders or lines

Immigrants came here

To escape potato famine

One quarter of canada

Became Irish in no time

Days are rich

Life is full

Sit down for a whisky

In paradise of great green lull

Baynes Sound Ship Breaking Protest

On Sunday, Oct. 22, The Concerned Citizens of Baynes Sound (CCOBS) held a well attended march to Highway 19A at the entrance of Deep Water Recovery, the ship-breaking company that has disrespected environmental stewardship of the foreshore In Union Bay. They are breaking up ships on the beach for the value of the metal, and the huge amount of toxicity contained in these old ships threatens the waters of Baynes Sound and the people who live here, in the highest producing aquaculture area in the Province. Deep Water Recovery has no social licence in Union Bay, and this is an issue that brings residents together from across the ideological spectrum. All residents of the Baynes Sound region have a stake in the health of the ocean.

The Comox Valley Regional District (CVRD) considers Deepwater Recovery in violation of land use bylaws, but has not been able to stop work on the site, pending a Provincial Court date to determine whether the CVRD jurisdiction and their bylaws are enforceable in this case. According to CVRD Area A Director Daniel Arbour, if the CVRD loses this case, the Province and Federal governments will be forced to decide whether they will regulate ship-breaking, and mandate proper containment measures. Currently, Canada, and indeed B.C., does not have the level of regulation of any other Western industrialized country. It’s beyond embarrassing, as our governments have made proclamations about dealing with derelict hulls all along our coastlines.

TIG has reported on this story, and will continue to follow it closely, as a Provincial Court date is expected prior to the end of 2023. 

https://concernedcitizensofbaynessoundorg.wordpress.com/

https://allthingsunionbay.com/

Rathtrevor Beach

CS# 05943451

Date: March 29, 2007 1:24 PM

Rathtrevor Beach

Curiously, there was a veritable cluster of blue shirts at the kitchen when we arrived to pick up our lunch this morning. In the wake of yesterday’s ‘Sandwich Summit,’ maybe they’d caught wind that the lunches were about to improve! In all of the milling around, it was discovered there were leftover hashed browns and hamburgers which had been cooked already. All that was needed was to reheat them. Crew #2 pounced at this and, with that, our prospects for a good day improved dramatically. 

With the wood chipper now repaired, we headed off under partly cloudy skies to Rathtrevor Beach for work today. Our task was to roam the 195 campsites, collecting and chipping branches that had come down over this winter’s wind storms. Well, we managed to make it to coffee break before the chipper started acting up again, much the same way as before taking it in to get repaired. Our plan for work once again foiled by equipment problems. Oh well. At least we had Hawaiian coffee. Mr. Wight, true to his word, remembered to bring the goods. And indeed, it WAS good.

After coffee break we abandoned our campsite clean-up and focussed on piling branches that were strewn about the parkland adjacent the sandy beach. It was quite something to be in jail, yet find yourself strolling the beach on a breezy, sunny mid morning. Choppy seas, people walking dogs, eagles suspended overhead on the updraft, the smell of sea salt on the nose. Truly unimaginable that this experience could be had when I learned I was going to jail. It is still a life restricted which keeps the enjoyment factor tamped down but, that being said, if I weren’t on the ‘outside crew’ my incarceration would be infinitely more dreary.

Breaking for lunch, we proceeded to feast on a more substantial meal than we’d had in weeks. Topped off with some more Hawaiian coffee. Victory never tasted so good! We’ll likely be back to substandard, ‘dietician approved’ lunches tomorrow because nothing lasts forever, but we were enjoying what it was we scraped and clawed for. Revelling in our victorious foils, we recounted our summit with Mr. Wight from yesterday. One knee slapper after another. Christ, does that Fred have a keen sense of humour! His presence on the crew is making my workdays all the more enjoyable. A hard worker, who isn’t afraid to ride the boss. Toss in his sharp wit, aimed at getting a quick laugh, and it makes the drudgery of our work feel more akin to a tree-planting atmosphere. He is only around for two more weeks but what he adds to the mix of our motley crew I appreciate, as do the others. And that’s not the coffee talking.

Hecate’s Wisdom

Dr. Carl Jung’s concept of archetypes has always intrigued me, and it’s helped me a lot over the

years to consider which archetypes I am possibly embodying, struggling with, or neglecting to

pay attention to now! Especially fascinating to me has been the archetype of Hecate, the

“goddess of intuitive and psychic wisdom” according to Jean Shinoda Bolen, MD., a Jungian

analyst who’s written extensively on this topic.

Hecate is the one who stands at the crossroads, at the fork in the road between past, present &

future. There she meets people, and intuits where they’ve come from. She knows what choices

they’re now presented with, about which path to take going forward. Hecate is the one at the

threshold of major life transitions. So, for example, her archetype presents itself in the roles of

death doula, midwife, hospice worker.

We all have times when we hang onto old patterns, ways of thinking & acting that are no longer

working all that well for us. I find myself there when I’m holding onto old grudges, petty

resentments that I have to keep feeding to keep alive, arrrgh, negative thinking that blocks

perspective, to name a few. We are constantly evolving and being given opportunities to grow

and expand. Or to stay in our old mindset, even though there’s a disquiet about it. Something

is urging us, something wants expression or change.

This can be a very unsettling energy which we may try to push down and on the surface, we

may succeed in doing so. A life too calm, too settled and too predictable though, can also be a

life that is stuck, and too fearful to move out of that stuckness. I remember a time when I felt

this stuckness as “mud around my heart”. I was very lucky to be able to receive the guidance of

a gifted therapist, Marie Jose Dhaese; she helped me uncover what that mud was about, to

then loosen it up and bring the cleansing waters of insight to wash it away. We are always a

work in progress though, never completed, hard as our growth can be. No wonder they call it

“growing pains”.

It goes without saying that life-threatening illness or crisis can jolt us out of our comfort zone,

throwing us up close against our mortality. Many meet Hecate on those particular roads, in the

liminal time of twilight, and find more meaning in their lives by choosing the path of a wideawake

life, replete with its griefs, its sorrows and its joys. Hecate helps us let go of what is ready

to die: outworn attitudes and outgrown roles.

Hecate is also the goddess of the waning or dark moon – the Crone. Hesiod (in Theogeny,

approximately 700 BCE) said that Hecate means: “She who has power far off”; in other words,

psychic ability or clairvoyance. We old people don’t just become Crones or Elders – we must

earn that privilege by coming to terms with our own issues, grappling with what is holding us

back. We have too many blind spots to do all this work on our own, but the good news is that

we don’t have to! Teachers or guides to help us explore our depths are everywhere. These

teachers help us connect to our purpose, which may change over time. Exploring our depths

helps us connect to our grief and suffering and to that of others. It helps us be more fully

human. We can do this work by listening closely and learning from the many sources of wisdom

in the world, be they Mother Nature, a spiritual guide, insightful thought-partner, or other

mentor. I’ve found that when I am ready, teachers come, and they often come from

unexpected places. If we’re seeking, we usually know when they’ve arrived in our lives.

Bolen calls the part of us that knows and sees without the blinders on “the Witness”. Hecate is

also the Witness, with us at every juncture, there for the calling. She seeks and sees the Truth

of our existence, capital T. We may have distorted ideas or repressed material just too painful

to let into our consciousness, but Hecate is there when we are ready and humble enough to ask

for guidance. This is inner work that nourishes our souls. Like walking/being in the woods or at

the ocean, and how that feeds our whole being. When we step outside of our daily patterns

and take a dive into our psyches and look around, we emerge more whole and the world

becomes more holy. We may not have the answers but we’re seeing and holding the

complexity and we are then able to thrive in “full catastrophe living” (Jon Kabat-Zinn).

To me, it’s about listening to our inner helper, always there for us. If we are able to do so, we

can become more fully integrated and real. That makes us lighter, and truly, isn’t this a time

when we need to access our inner light?

Thanks to Jean Shinoda Bolen, Thomas Moore, James Hillman, Marion Woodman and Marlene

Schiwy, all Jungian scholars, for their wise teachings, many of which are reflected in this piece.

Middle Easterners Have Words For The Western Press Who’ve Been Lying About Them

Oct 21st, 2023 

Notes From The Edge Of The Narrative Matrix

Hundreds of US congressional staffers are passing around a letter urging their bosses to call for a ceasefire, there’s a silent mutiny brewing in the State Department over the Biden administration’s Gaza actions, mainstream reporters have been refusing to parrot Israel narratives, and the streets are full of pro-Palestine demonstrators.

This is different. What we are seeing right now is a deviation from the usual script.

The western press have been finding themselves in the uncomfortable position of having to do reporting alongside the middle easterners they’ve been lying about for generations, and discovering that a lot of those middle easterners speak English and have a few things to say.

Check out this clip of Egyptian podcaster Rahma Zein laying into CNN’s Clarissa Ward at a protest at the Rafah Crossing border gates:

https://youtu.be/EJ_Upwnjl9w

And this clip of a Palestinian man telling off CNN’s Sara Sidner — who helped circulate the infamous “40 decapitated babies” psyop — saying “You are genocide supporters! You are not welcome here! Genocide supporters! Fuck CNN! Fuck CNN!”:

https://youtu.be/69OdX6A7urI

An urgently needed message and a long overdue confrontation.

If Israel didn’t bomb that hospital then why did it doctor up a fraudulent audio clip pretending to show Hamas fighters saying Israel didn’t bomb the hospital?

 The only way to reconcile this fact with a belief in Israel’s innocence is rigorous psychological compartmentalization.

A lot of the distortion around this current crisis arises from confusion between peace and the baseline status quo. Because Israel had been trucking along at the same status quo for so long, people assume there was a state of peace when Hamas attacked it, which was why the western political/media class were able to frame it as an “unprovoked” attack. But in reality the status quo in Israel has been one of continually escalating violence, tyranny and abuse for generations, not one of peace.

The trouble with abusive dynamics that have been going on for a long time is that after a while those who aren’t directly affected by the abuse tend to get used to that way of being and start thinking of it as normal. So when there’s pushback against that abusive status quo, it looks to them like it came completely out of nowhere at the hands of an unprovoked aggressor.

Stand on someone’s face for long enough and one day it will surprise you if he eventually bites your foot. You might even feel like you were the victim, because that’s just what you’d gotten used to.

And the imperial media of course do everything they can to exacerbate public confusion about this crucial distinction. The Hamas attack is being constantly framed as an unprovoked act of aggression by evil men who wanted to do evil things to Jews, solely because they are evil and hate Jews. History began on October 7, and all the events from 1948 onward never happened.

Empire propagandists do this constantly by the way, wherever it suits the information interests of the empire. After 9/11 it was “they hate us for our freedom” and all the US aggressions in the middle east which provoked Al Qaeda were swept under the carpet. When Russia invaded Ukraine the well-documented NATO provocations and violence in the Donbass which gave rise to it were written out of the history books, and history began on February 24, 2022. If China ever reacts to the US military surrounding it with war machinery and its aggressive provocations in Taiwan, that will be framed as a completely unprovoked attack which came completely out of nowhere as well.

Circumstances aren’t peaceful just because we are used to them. Just because you are able to go about your daily routine without major disruption doesn’t mean someone isn’t being horrifically abused by the status quo which makes your way of life possible. Peace doesn’t look like everyone complying with the status quo regardless of its abusiveness, it looks like the absence of abuse.

 

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Shucking Oysters: Swearing is Good

Shucking Oysters: F Bombs

By Alex Allen 

Both my parents swore a lot when I grew up. In fact, my mother was more prolific than my father. This can be explained by the fact that my mother was a bit of a klutz (as I). She couldn’t open the kitchen cabinet without hitting her head. Sh*t! Trip on the carpet and drop something. Sh*t! I would hear this expletive often as my mother carried on her day. “Damn” was my father’s favourite and equally enjoyed by my mum too. My father liked to slam doors in anger as well. To say that I came from a family of emoters is putting it mildly. Naturally, swearing is one of my family heirlooms, and according to science it’s A-OK.

I swear a lot driving on the highway. It’s my primal scream therapy time. I don’t know what it is, but I seem to be flypaper to irritating, oblivious drivers. The one’s doing 60-70K in 80k zone. F*ck. The incessant braker. F*ck. The truck with trailer that pulls dangerously in front of me even though there is no one behind me for miles. Jesus. Research has proven that swearing is good for me, but not for my partner apparently. She thinks it’s childish. I’ll show her.

Used appropriately and responsibly, it turns out that my sporadic outbursts are a good way to process “the chaos of being human in a world where much isn’t under our control.” That’s it. It’s things I have no control over that get to me. “Swearing can have a truly liberating effect when we’re feeling bottled up with frustration. Saying the F-word, or similar, can have an immediate calming impact on the difficult emotions we might be experiencing,” wrote Dr. Raffaello Antonino, psychologist and clinical director and founder of Therapy Central.

A 2015 study found that well-educated people were better at coming up with curse words than those who were less verbally fluent. Participants were asked to list as many words that start with F, A or S in one minute. Another minute was devoted to coming up with curse words that start with those three letters. The study found those who came up with the most F, A and S words also produced the most swear words. People that are good at language are good at generating a swearing vocabulary.

A series of studies published in 2017 found a positive link between profanity and honesty. People who swore lied less, and had higher levels of integrity overall. While a higher rate of profanity use was associated with more honesty, the study cautioned that “the findings should not be interpreted to mean that the more a person uses profanity, the less likely he or she would engage in more serious unethical or immoral behaviours.” 

Swearing is good for your endurance. People on bikes who swore while pedaling against resistance had more power and strength than people who used “neutral” words, studies have shown. Research also found that people who cursed while squeezing a vice were able to squeeze harder and longer. 

Another study in 2020 found people who swore when their hand was put in a bucket of ice-cold water lasted 40 seconds longer. The S-word and F-word were used by many of the subjects to good effect. “[S]wearing helps you cope with pain,” said Dr. Richard Stephens, Psychobiology Research Laboratory, Keele University in England. “Swearing is drug-free, calorie-free, cost-free, and side effects-free, so why not try it?” he added.

Stephens says he has some as-yet unpublished research to suggest that the intensity of the swear word matters too. If you hit your finger with a hammer, you may well feel less pain if you yell “Sh*t” instead of “Shoot.” “It does seem to be that the stronger the swear word, the more effect it has.” Like some things Stephens warns, moderation is key. “We found that the people who swear the most in everyday life got the least benefit from swearing,” he said. “So, you know, don’t overdo it.”

According to Emma Byrne, author of Swearing Is Good for You, profanities are a fundamental part of our language, performing a vital role in our development. Citing several not always entirely relevant scientific studies, she makes the case that taboo words act as a kind of pressure valve, allowing us to let off steam rather than, say, punch somebody’s brains out. 

Byrne’s contention is that without swearing we would have to rely on biting and gouging and throwing sh*t. Swearing allows us to express our emotions symbolically. As Byrne wrote, “Swearing is like mustard; a great ingredient but a lousy meal. We need that part of our language to keep its potency, its slightly risky nature, otherwise it wouldn’t be swearing.”

Happy Samhuinn or Halloween to the Uninitiated

This is my daughter’s favourite holiday.  She loves dressing up and has been known to wear different costumes to different events on the same day.  I lack her gifts at making costumes.  

Indeed, my celebration of Samhuinn is not so party-centric as most peoples’ but I enjoy it in my own way just as much.  It is a pity that children nowadays do not have the same trick or treating opportunities that I had as a young child.  Some ladies would make trays of toffee apples to give out and that was the best and most sought-after treat going.  Other ladies made us popcorn balls, rice-crispy cakes and cookies.  We collected pillowcases full of candy swag.  

That did not generate enough commerce so the press started publishing stories of poisoned candies being handed out.  The truth was, some children were poisoned at Halloween but it was always deliberate poisoning by their relatives.  There is a lovely saying in the Balkans that the neighbours may throw stones at you but only your own family kills you.  

Stories were circulated of toffee apples with razor blades inserted in them so that treat went away forever.  People began to buy commercially-produced candy which was far more expensive and not nearly as nice.  Trick or treating seems to have gone the way of the dodo here on Denman and I think that is a shame.  I hope people with children will consider making some of the old Halloween favourites for their children and young friends.  

For Druids, and most other religious people, Samhuinn is a serious time to pray to the ancestors as the veil between the worlds is thin at this time.  In fact, time stops completely for a few days and the spirits can visit the Earth to see friends and family.  Some people like to leave out the favourite food for the spirits they hope to attract and a comb, bowl of water and mirror so the spirits can freshen up after their long journey back to Earth.  It is helpful to make a small altar with candles and photos of the beloved lost ones you hope to attract to your house.  Seeing their photo reminds them of happy times and lets them know they have found receptive family members.  

Death is seen by Druids as a transformation, rather than an ending.  Evergreen branches, particularly cedar, the tree of life, are the chief symbol of this festival.  To be born in the afterlife, you have to die here.  To come to the Earth, you have to die in the afterlife.  Nothing lasts forever, not even death.  

The land dies every year at this time, only to be reborn in the glorious exuberance of spring greens and spring flowers.  The fields go brown as the grass bleaches out and all nature slows down with only the hardiest animals and birds left but we all know that spring will return, carried under the wings of the returning birds.  Life is just the same.  We die and go away for a while and then we return.  

With that in mind, we may all want to consider how we can leave the Living Earth better for our stay here as we will be coming back to a world that is more despoiled and polluted every year.  People think they don’t have to worry about what the world will be like in three hundred years but I think that is exactly what they should be worried about.  

So, this year, I hope some of you will consider praying and meditating out of doors, after you have made your young friends a tray of toffee apples of course.  Speak aloud to your ancestors and departed friends and ask them for their counsel, their favour and their benevolence.  This year has turned quite tricky due to world politics taking a violent turn and I feel we need all the help we can get.  

Build a little bonfire and tell stories about departed family members and friends.   This is also a great time to tell ghost stories but they should only be about real ghosts and supernatural experiences that have happened to the teller.   Ghosts are not scary, at least not the ones I have met.  They are still the same people they were when we knew and loved them on the Earth.  Take some time to honour them.  They need our help as we need theirs. 

The veil between the worlds becomes thin, and the ancestors come close to us.  Their voices whisper in the autumn winds.  As we stand among the falling leaves and the grey and golden light, let us remember the past and its lessons, and gather a harvest of wisdom to bear us through the winter to the new spring to come.  

Phoenix Riting! – October 26th, 2023

Ah Hornby dances, how do I love you? We had another banger at the Hall Saturday night, called “A Whole Lotta Zep.” When I saw David Gogo show up as a fan of the band, wearing a band t-shirt, I had a feeling we were in for something special. And oh my yes we were. The first thing I did, however and I wasn’t the only one, was rush to the restroom to crumple toilet paper into my ears. Please, dear bands, if you must play so loudly (and they all seem to insist on it), it would be excellent of you to provide a basket of earplugs at the door. Still, the TP (mostly) did the job and I boogied myself into exhaustion to some seriously excellent rock ‘n roll.

 

For this Zeppelin fan, it was brilliant. As a teenager, I loved that band. I played the two albums I owned, ‘Led Zeppelin IV’ and ‘Houses of the Holy’ over and over again. Sadly, I don’t have the same bottomless energy I used to have; I powered out before the show was over. Having left it all on the dancefloor, I dragged myself home in a stupor of exhaustion and bliss.

Note: if I act or talk like a crazy person on such occasions, please forgive me. I do get weird on dancing. I plant myself right up front because there’s the most space and also it’s where the band is. There I go unapologetically mad. I do this to get sane and to heal my body and soul. It may look weird but I recommend it! It’s a perfect healing modality, done right. And the music was so good. The band wailed and pounded and drummed up a storm of epic proportions and I lost myself in it.

 

There is more to come, Hornby! David Gogo told me he and his band will be playing our Hall on November 11. All I can say to that is, “Whee!” In addition–I have heard that there will be a house concert with The Bills somewhere on the island, sometime soon. It will be advertised, and when it is, I imagine tickets will sell out. House concerts are lovely and intimate and what a fabulous opportunity that will be. I can’t wait. Good music makes fall and winter less dark and dreary. We are so lucky here! I am still floating on a soft bed of endorphins, oh yes.

 

Fall is the season of classes and regular activities here on the island. One of my favourite activities are the classes located at New Horizons or through Zoom, sponsored by New Horizons. In Cornelia Hoogland’s Creative Writing group, we were recently assigned a poem called “Where I’m From.” I thought I’d share my offering with you all here now, so you can get to know me a little better. I hope you enjoy it! Please also enjoy this glorious autumn and the abundant explosion of mushrooms we are currently blessed with.

 

Where I’m From

 

I am from paradox, bare walls and plywood boxes

I am from discarded possessions pared to fit one pickup

I am from shotguns picking off packrats in the next shack we never moved into

I am from one shining star, packed precious in tissue

I am from bears in the yard, from cold dishwater and Coleman lanterns

I am from rough men, whisker rubs that pink my skin, shoulder rides, alcohol, secrets and sweat

I am from a mother who needed a son to give meaning to maternity

I am from family reunions, murmurations of cousins, ecstatic surrender to like kind, belonging for a time

I am from moosemeat and huckleberry pie, steak and pancakes for breakfast

I am from canned peas and powdered milk, and dont leave the table until youre done

I am from wild woods wanderings alone, red dirt scraped raw 

I am from blackflies swarming up nostrils and scabbing necks

I am from whisky nights by lantern light, songs and stories, my own voice singing, music played in the dark without a spark

I am from pioneers who fled to the west, then north, then west again

I am from brown people who belonged where they stood, who were good to me and my family, who became my relations

I am from a culture I never knew but which shaped my worldview

I am from camping all summer, from lakes accessed only on foot

I am from winter, huddled and hiding, go out and play you’re driving me crazy

I am from slow wanderings on frozen creeks, icy clefts and caverns more mysterious than fantasy

I am from dreams seamlessly blended into waking, speaking with faeries, visiting alien starships, breathing under the sea 

I am from books, fantastical worlds with pioneer children like me, girl detectives and cowboys, wicked Queens, talking animals and ever darker themes 

I am from sunday school because everyone goes, 

and there is no god, and nobody knows

 

That’s what I think! What do you think? Email me at phoenixonhornby@gmail.com

Halloween

Halloween

by Mr. Unknown

 

Pick out your costumes

Watch a movie that gives you a scare

Collect candy from neighbors

Visit the graveyard if you dare

Halloween is the time’

That brings us

 together

To travel down streets

No matter the weather

Brought from Celtic culture

To banish bad spirits

While dancing around flame

Be gone to all evil that’s near us

Carve bright, orange pumpkins

Leave them by a doorstep

For us to know

That your house is participating

Let the games begin

candy for all

For all the children

Dress as you choose

Ignite a pumpkin for light

Let us share spooky memories

On a crisp fall night