LINK:  Welcome to Our Global Censorship and Surveillance Platform – Global Guerrillas

“The only electronic security in the age of computers is not having any computers.”  ~William S. Lind

I concur: “The only electronic security in the age of computers is not having any computers.”  ~William S. Lind

This initiative is a small part of a larger overall effort being undertaken by Facebook, Google and others, to become what can best be described as fully functional global censorship and surveillance systems….The surprising thing to me?  The US and nearly all of the governments of the world (outside of China and Russia) are pushing them to do it.

Source: Global Guerrillas

Quote: On the Present Tendency to Destroy All Tradition

From “Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self”

Two from Uncle Carl…

“Naturally the present tendency to destroy all tradition or render it unconscious could interrupt the normal process of development for several hundred years and substitute an interlude of barbarism. Wherever the Marxist utopia prevails, this has already happened. But a predominately scientific and technological education, such as is the usual thing nowadays, can also bring about a spiritual regression and a considerable increase of psychic dissociation.”

And so…

“Myths and fairy tales give expression to unconscious processes, and their retelling causes the process to come alive again and be recollected, thereby re-establishing the connection between conscious and unconscious.”

~C.G. Jung, Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self

Link:  Lammas — A Pioneering Ecovillage in West Wales

The Lammas project has been created to pioneer an alternative model for living on the land. It empowers people to explore what it is to live a one-planet lifestyle. It demonstrates that alternatives are possible here and now.


Der Geist im Glas

A German fairy tale collected by the Brothers Grimm.

The Spirit in the Glass Bottle

Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm

Once upon a time there was a poor woodcutter who worked from morning until late at night. When he had finally saved up some money he said to his boy, “You are my only child. I want to spend the money that I have earned by the sweat of my brow on your education. Learn an honest trade so you can support me in my old age when my limbs have grown stiff and I have to sit at home.”

Then the boy went to a university and studied diligently. His teachers praised him, and he remained there for some time. After he had worked through a few classes, but was still not perfect in everything, the little pittance that the father had saved was all spent, and the boy had to return home to him.

“Oh,” said the father sadly, “I cannot give you anything more, and in these hard times I cannot earn a heller more than what we need for our daily bread.”

“Father, dear,” answered the son, “don’t worry about it. If it is God’s will everything will turn out well for me. I will do all right.”

When the father said he was going into the woods and earn some money by cutting cordwood, the son said, “I will go with you and help you.”

“No, my son,” said the father, “you will find it too difficult. You are not used to hard work, and will not be able to do it. Furthermore, I have only one ax and no money left to buy another one with.”

“Just go to the neighbor,” answered the son. “He will lend you his ax until I have earned enough to buy one for myself.”

So the father borrowed an ax from the neighbor, and the next morning at daybreak they went out into the woods together. The son helped his father and was quite cheerful and full of energy. When the sun was directly above them, the father said, “Let us rest now and eat our noon meal. Then all will go twice as well.”

The son picked up his bread and said, “Just you rest, father. I am not tired. I will walk about a little in the woods and look for birds’ nests.”

“Oh, you fool,” said the father, “why do you want to run about? Afterwards you will be tired and no longer able to lift an arm. Stay here, and sit down beside me.”

But the son went into the woods, ate his bread, was very cheerful, and looked into the green branches to see if he could find a bird’s nest. He walked to and fro until at last he came to an enormous oak that was certainly many hundred years old, and that five men would not have been able to span. He stood there looking at it, and thought, “Many a bird must have built its nest in that tree.”

Then suddenly he thought that he heard a voice. Listening, he became aware of someone calling out with a muffled voice, “Let me out. Let me out.”

He looked around but could not see anything. Then he thought that the voice was coming out of the ground, so he shouted, “Where are you?”

The voice answered, “I am stuck down here among the oak roots. Let me out. Let me out.”

The student began to scrape about beneath the tree, searching among the roots, until at last he found a glass bottle in a little opening. Lifting it up, he held it against the light, and then saw something shaped like a frog jumping up and down inside.

“Let me out. Let me out,” it cried again, and the student, thinking no evil, pulled the cork from the bottle. Immediately a spirit ascended from it and began to grow. It grew so fast that within a few moments a horrible fellow, half as big as the tree, was standing there before the student.

“Do you know,” he cried in an terrifying voice, “what your reward is for having let me out?”

“No,” replied the student fearlessly. “How should I know that?”

“Then I will tell you,” shouted the spirit. “I must break your neck for it.”

“You should have said so sooner,” answered the student, “for then I would have left you shut up inside. However, my head is going to stay where it is until more people have been consulted.”

“More people here, more people there,” shouted the spirit. “You shall have the reward you have earned. Do you think that I was shut up there for such a long time as a favor? No, it was a punishment. I am the mighty Mercurius. I must break the neck of whomsoever releases me.”

“Calm down,” answered the student. “Not so fast. First I must know that you really were shut up in that little bottle, and that you are the right spirit. If you can indeed get inside again, then I will believe it, and you may do with me whatsoever you want.”

The spirit said arrogantly, “that is an easy trick,” pulling himself in and making himself as thin and short as he had been before. He then crept back into the opening and through the neck of the bottle. He was scarcely inside when the student pushed the cork back into the bottle, and threw it back where it had been among the oak roots. And thus the spirit was deceived.

The student was about to return to his father, but the spirit cried out pitifully, “Oh, do let me out. Oh, do let me out.”

“No,” answered the student, “not a second time. I will not release a person who once tried to kill me, now that I have captured him again.”

“If you will set me free,” cried the spirit, “I will give you so much that you will have enough for all the days of your life.”

“No,” answered the student, “you would cheat me like you tried to the first time.”

“You are giving away your own good fortune,” said the spirit. “I will not harm you, but instead will reward you richly.”

The student thought, “I will venture it. Perhaps he will keep his word, and in any event he will not get the better of me.”

So he pulled out the cork, and the spirit rose up from the bottle as before, and extended himself, becoming as large as a giant.

“Now you shall have your reward,” he said, handing the student a little rag that looked just like a small bandage. He said, “If you rub a wound with the one end, it will heal, and if you rub steel or iron with the other end, it will turn into silver.”

“I have to try that,” said the student. He went to a tree, scratched the bark with his ax, then rubbed it with the one end of the bandage. It immediately closed together and was healed.

“Now it is all right,” he said to the spirit, “and we can part.”

The spirit thanked him for having freed him, and the student thanked the spirit for the present, and returned to his father.

“Where have you been running about?” said the father. “Why have you forgotten your work? I said that you wouldn’t get anything done.”

“Don’t be concerned, father. I will make it up.”

“Make it up indeed,” said the father angrily. “Don’t bother.”

“Just watch, father. I will soon cut down that tree there and make it crash.”

Then he took his bandage, rubbed the ax with it, and struck a mighty blow, but because the iron had turned into silver, the cutting edge bent back on itself.

“Hey, father, just look what a bad ax you’ve given me. It is all bent out of shape.”

The father was shocked and said, “Oh, what have you done! Now I’ll have to pay for the ax, and I don’t know what with. That is all the good I have from your work.”

“Don’t get angry,” said the son, “I will pay for the ax.”

“Oh, you blockhead,” cried the father, “How will you pay for it? You have nothing but what I give you. You have students’ tricks stuck in your head, but you don’t know anything about chopping wood.”

After a little while the student said, “Father, I can’t work any longer after all. Let’s quit for the day.”

“Now then,” he answered, “do you think I can stand around with my hands in my pockets like you? I have to go on working, but you may head for home.”

“Father, I am here in these woods for the first time. I don’t know my way alone. Please go with me.”

His anger had now subsided, so the father at last let himself be talked into going home with him.

There he said to the son, “Go and sell the damaged ax and see what you can get for it. I will have to earn the difference, in order to pay the neighbor.”

The son picked up the ax and took it into town to a goldsmith, who tested it, weighed it, and then said, “It is worth four hundred talers. I do not have that much cash with me.”

The student said, “Give me what you have. I will lend you the rest.”

The goldsmith gave him three hundred talers and owed him one hundred. Then the student went home and said, “Father, I have some money. Go and ask the neighbor what he wants for the ax.”

“I already know,” answered the old man. “One taler, six groschens.”

“Then give him two talers, twelve groschens. That is double its worth and is plenty. See, I have more than enough money.” Then he gave the father a hundred talers, saying, “You shall never need anything. Live just like you want to.”

“My goodness,” said the old man. “Where did you get all that money?”

Then the son told him everything that had happened, and how by trusting in his luck he had made such a catch. With the money that was left he went back to the university and continued his studies, and because he could heal all wounds with his bandage he became the most famous doctor in the whole world.

Familiennachzug: Bis zu 300.000 Flüchtlinge in der Warteschleife

Brace yourselves Germany for hundreds of thousands more refugees

Brace yourselves Germany for hundreds of thousands more refugees via family reunification…

“Die Welt reports the situation — with regards to housing, welfare, education, integration, and crime — will be far more demanding for taxpayers than official figures suggest, as they do not take into account the migrants who are flown into Germany as a result of family reunification rules.”

Wer in ein anderes Land flieht, möchte irgendwann seine Familie nachholen. Die Probleme, die sich damit für die Aufnahmeländer ergeben, werden gern negiert. Doch jetzt liegen neue Zahlen für Deutschland vor.

Source: Familiennachzug: Bis zu 300.000 Flüchtlinge in der Warteschleife – WELT

The Infinite and the Finite

Fill my mind with elevation and grandeur at
the thought of a Being

Linked below is one of my favorite examples of Contemplative Prayer from the Puritan perspective.  I keep a leather bound copy of The Valley of Vision along with Thomas Merton’s Book of Hours.  Rather than type it out, there is a free online version available.

The Valley of Vision: A Collection of Puritan Prayers

Step 1, Step 2

Reason shows the soul the delusion of overrating worldly things, while faith teaches what alone can satisfy its cravings.

Reason shows the soul the delusion of overrating worldly things, while faith teaches what alone can satisfy its cravings.

Teresa of Avila, The Interior Castle

Kreuzgang featured

The thirst of the soul cannot be slaked with material things because it is not of this material world.  It takes something of an altogether different nature than fame and fortune, the natural enemies of tranquility, to satisfy the cravings of that which has its home in the spiritual realm.


Oh Sassafras!

Sassafras, oh sassafras! /
Thou art the stuff for me!

In the spring of the year,
When the blood is too thick,
There is nothing so rare,
As the sassafras stick.

It cleans up the liver,
It strengthens the heart.
And to the whole system,
New life doth impart.

Sassafras, oh sassafras!
Thou art the stuff for me!
And in the spring I love to sing,
Sweet sassafras! of thee.

Turn to the Webster’s

It matters which dictionary you turn to.

Being a lover of language, dictionaries have always been a treasure trove to me.  But I must say that the newer they are, the less satisfying their definitions become.  Defining a word does not mean that you have to try and say the same thing as simply and with as few words as you possibly can.  This technique might work when talking to a 5-year-old, but kindergarten children are not the intended audience of dictionaries in the first place…

Enough talk.  Here is an example from the Oxford Dictionary of English, 2006.

theurgy, noun: the operation or effect of a supernatural or divine agency in human affairs

  • a system of white magic practiced by early Neoplatonists

DERIVATIVES: theurgic adjective, theurgical adjective, theurgist noun

ORIGIN: mid 16th cent.; via late Latin from Greek theurgia ‘sorcery’, from theos ‘god’ + ergos ‘working’

And this second definition comes from the dictionary I would recommend for all lovers of the English language, Noah Webster’s American Dictionary of the English Language from 1828.  Note the differences and judge for yourself.

THEURGIC, THEURGICAL: [from theurgy.] Pertaining to the power of performing supernatural things.
Theurgic hymns, songs of incantation

THEURGIST, n. One who pretends or is addicted to theurgy.

THEURGY, n. [Gr. theos God, and ergos work]
The art of doing things which it is the peculiar province of God to do; or the power or act of performing supernatural things by invoking the names of God or of subordinate agents; magic.  This has been divided by some writers into three parts; theurgy, or the operation by divine or celestial means; natural magic, performed by the powers of nature; and necromancy, which proceeds by invoking demons.

Quote on Early American Life

We mistakenly think of Americans in the seventeenth century as ourselves…

“Were we to confront a seventeenth century Anglo-American we would experience a sense of culture shock as profound as if we had encountered a member of any other of the world’s exotic cultures.  We mistakenly think of Americans in the seventeenth century as ourselves but somehow simpler, “quaint” perhaps, but people with whom we would feel an instant empathy.  In fact [their] world was assembled according to a different set of rules…Recognizing this fundamental difference permits us to consider the people of that time in their own terms, rather than in those categories we impose on them.”

~James Deetz, “In Small Things Forgotten: An Archaeology of Early American Life”

Certain Christians today suggest a related attitude towards Scripture, to the effect that one should allow Scripture to shape the understanding rather than having the understanding shape Scripture.  I think this could equally apply to the study of history, or even basic communication, especially in written form.  It’s important to set aside what we think we know and allow history to speak for itself.

French historian Fernand Braudel suggests we “strip ourselves in imagination of all the surroundings of our own lives.”  This seems like a goodly approach.


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