“Fractured Land” ~ What Kind Of World Do You Want To Live In?

What kind of world do you want to live in? Hold that question in your mind for a time.

While searching for some up to date information regarding  a particular event, The Future Generations Ride,  I came across a great deal currently online in social media venues regarding very serious issue raising events of the past.  While sorting through the information overload I discovered a documentary film in the works, Fractured Land.  Then, for this post, I decided to switch gears to the present and the future because we are in the here and now. What we do, all of us, has ramifications for the future, our future and the future of life on Earth. Earth has not always been as we know it–full of automobiles, grocery stores, shopping centers offering all sorts of techie toys, synthetic clothing, and fast food. Contrary to the commercials on the small screen, life has not always revolved around purple pills, phones and plasma screen televisions offering surround sound and high-definition imaging. 

What I haven’t quite figured out yet is, why we, as in a great many of us humans, not all of us, but enough of us to make an intensely negative impact on our habitat, have chosen to do so.  Why live like self-destructive maniacs when the Earth offers –offered– everything we need to survive as a species?  If you’ve got a perfect environment to live in, why go around destroying it? Often the answer is profit/money. Okay–but consider this, money in any form only has value because someone attributes value to it.  Paper money has no value in and of itself.  It only has value within the context that created it. (No, I’m not going to get into a hashing out of the federal reserve concepts and issues thereof. That’s not what this post s about.) In contrast, water has value in and of itself because it is necessary for life. Necessary.  Living things require water in order to live.  We don’t require money or gold bars in order to function as living creatures. Yes, we are indeed creatures, bio-chemical entities, just like the rest of the wonderful species on planet Earth.  If the adherents to the mainstream concept of living well–as in rich according to the specs of Wall Street and the World Bank–how do they propose to live at all when the water, air and land become too toxic to support humans?  How does that work? It doesn’t.  That’s basic life science, not my opinion.

Caleb Behn knows this–and as you’re well aware, he’s not alone.

Fractured Land

A young First Nations law student and emerging leader from northeast BC, epicenter of some of the worlds largest fracking operations, tries to reconcile the fractures within himself, his community and the world around him – blending modern tools of the law with ancient wisdom.


Contact: fracturedland@gmail.com

FB – http://www.facebook.com/FracturedLand

Twitter – http://www.twitter.com/FracturedLand

Directed and Produced by Fiona Rayher and Damien Gillis

Executive Producers: Daniel Conrad and Mark Achbar

Music by Edo Van Breemen

Digital Strategist & Community Manager – Hilary Henegar

For more information about the film’s issues, petitions, newsletter and other items of interest such as:

Join us Jan 9 for a live video chat on #IdleNoMore 

Fractured Land filmmaker Damien Gillis moderates a lively discussion among a diverse panel of activists, industry experts and leaders from around Canada.

The topic of the conversation will centre on how the Idle No More movement can serve as a bridge toward empowering native and non-native people to advocate for more sustainable, equitable energy development.

More details posted soon!

Visit  http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/fractured-land-the-documentary  <<<This page is a useful info hub.

“They’re Using The Water To Fracture The Bones Of Mother Earth.” — Caleb Behn

Award Winning Fractured Land Documentary Featuring Naomi Klein, MP Thomas Mulcair, Josh Fox, Maude Barlow, Bill McKibben, Wade Davis, Lillian Moyer, Terri Brown, Oscar Dennis and other powerful voices. ‘ “Fractured Land tells the story of Caleb Behn, an inspiring, young First Nations law student from northeast BC, working to defend his peoples’ land from some of the most intense industrial activity in the world.

Caleb is Eh-Cho Dene and Dunne Za/Cree from Treaty 8 country, the front lines for Canada’s biggest natural gas fracking operations. The swift proliferation of fracking, a controversial method of extracting natural gas, has had profound consequences for the water and the ability for his people to practice their traditional way of life.

Having recently finished law school, Caleb is among the first University of Victoria Law students granted the Concentration in Environmental Law and Sustainability. Prior to law school, he was the Oil & Gas Officer for the West Moberly First Nations and a Lands Manager for the Saulteau First Nations.

The film follows Caleb to places of largely unseen beauty from his traditional territories, where he’s fished and hunted moose his whole life, to Maori lands in New Zealand, where he sought to learn how Indigenous law could be blended with the current legal system in order to protect our sacred ecosystems.” Scheduled for release 2014 Spring Festival. 

uphere -> http://www.uphere.ca/

photo @ http://www.angelagzowski.com/editorial

Never know what you’ll discover when you start connecting dots and surfing the energy lines in cyber-space. First I caught the photos on Supporting South Dakota Reservations Facebook page featuring the 38 Memorial Riders, then while exploring the latest entries I discovered the information on Fractured Land and then, and then. I think you get the idea.

Supporting South Dakota Reservations Page  https://www.facebook.com/SupportSDrez

Consider another question: What kind of world will the children living now have to live in?

crisis bread

“no money for a bread, we call that  “crisis” ~ brulionman


world wide tragedy

is bread

state of bread = bitch fest

gimme some goddamn real pita,

hell, some hemp too

a boatload of naan and a frying pan, please!

 a plate of roti

crisp, crunchy Italian

I’ll even take a loaf of stinky sourdough

anything but this damn white mish mash hash gumshoe shit

cornbread? really? wtf are you trying to pull on me?

bring on the challah,brioche, lavash

toss some tortillas and frybread drill team style

I’ll sell my soul for a true French baguette

a full-bodied Polish rye with some style

German pumpernickel with pump not pap

throw a roll at the wall and watch the plaster fall

a crust you peel

soak soup

bathe in butter love

plate scour

gimme some goddamned real bread

Another corporate crime against humanity



sara Lee

nature’s pride

pepperidge farm


holsom and all the rest of the plastic bag labels

guilty as charged

baking loaves with out heart

soul-less seeds

bakery murder in the first degree



Some bread and butter from Yi-Ching



Gazprom! Russia! Free the Arctic 30!

BREAKING: This morning Greenpeace France activists protested peacefully at Gazprom’s offices in the center of Paris, while their friends on the Arctic Sunrise are detained in Russia for peacefully protesting Gazprom’s reckless plans to drill in the fragile Arctic.

Voice your support to peaceful activism to protect the Arctic. SIGN and SHARE: www.greenpeace.org/freeouractivists/?fbgpi9oct1

Direct from:

Russia is pressing charges against the peaceful activists that could land them in prison for 15 years. Is this political insanity at work? Power running amok for sure.

Idle No More, Utah, Sept. 9, Drummers Don’t Be Shy

Breakfast Special, #23, “Why Sarge Throws Freight”

“water lilies” @ yesbut
**for more lovely of “yesbut’s images”~~> http://yesbuts.wordpress.com/


Why Sarge Throws Freight

Once Lily was into her second bowl of chicken soup it was clear she’d shaken off the silly willies. Watching her regain her balance as she ate, Sarge held back from asking her what she’d learned on her venture to St. Syms hospital. She surprised him by opening up the conversation herself. “I didn’t mention this to the others because just telling them about the National Guard seemed more than enough to scare them. The reason St.Syms was so crazy is that they were dealing with a lot of people from the nursing home. The roof collapsed there some time this morning. It was really ugly in the hospital. Not enough beds, not enough nurses. Hardly any doctors because so many live in M- and can’t get here. They want to take people out by helicopters to other hospitals, but they’ve got all sorts of problems with that too.” She drank down half of her soup and gasped in relief. “You have no idea how much I needed that. Thanks for having it warmed up, Sarge.”

“No problem. All I had to do was turn on the heat when I saw you coming back.” He handed her the thick piece of bread he’d just smeared several tablespoons of butter over. “What else did you learn? Don’t worry about scaring me. I can take the bad news like a wolf man.”

“I have no doubt.” Lily took as big a bite out of the buttered rye bread as her mouth could handle. While chewing it she considered which information was worth sharing at the moment. A grand ranting about the National Guards was very appealing , but still fresh in her mind were the frightened reactions of JJ and her med crew to just learning of their presence at the hospital.  She decided to stick to sharing basic information. “Okay. Here goes: National Guard is still trying to get some main roads open and the train tracks cleared. Over half the city is without electricity. Mother Nature gifted us with about twelve feet of snow, more in some areas. So, it could be worse here. There was a massive water main break on the south side that hasn’t been reported on the news. I don’t even want to think what that’s like for the people who live there. I saw several buildings with caved in roofs along the hill road that drops down to St. Syms. Basically, it sounds to me like Falls is a total disaster area right now.” She held up a finger indicating a need for a short pause then drank the rest of the soup broth straight from her bowl to wash down the bread.

“More bread?” Sarge pointed to the slices of rye with the butter knife.

“Not yet. Thanks.” Lily  shook her head then resumed her report. ” Oh and I heard about this from the people in the ER waiting room.  Apparently when part of Main Street was opened just enough for people to get to that large grocery store where Main intersects with 7th Street, you know which one I mean–the one with the funny chicken sign?” She waited for Sarge to respond before continuing.

“Chicken sign?” Sarge thought for a moment. “You mean the store with the little fried chicken carry out place to the right as soon as you walk inside?”

“That’s the one.  They opened up for business when the street was plowed.  Their entire food stock was cleared out in a couple of hours. Nothing else has been delivered yet and no other store has been able to open up so far. So food is another issue for a lot of people in Falls.  I am so glad Esther made sure all of ‘sun rise’s’ pantries were stuffed to the max before this wave of storms hit. Otherwise, a lot of folks here in the Flats would be in a world of hurt. When I told her that today, she said she was just paying attention to what she heard her bones whispering to her. But she was pleased to know someone had noticed what she’d done and how important it has turned out to be. Beans, rice and canned goods aren’t fancy food but it is food. Not everyone thinks like Ricardo and I do about laying in a deep food cache for winter ahead of time.”

Sarge laughed. “No, most folks certainly do not.” He glanced at her huge fridge with the freeze that comprised half its size. “But after this winter I bet a lot more people will be. I don’t even want to think what you’d be like without breakfast every morning.”

“Oh I’m fine until I get a whiff of pancakes.”

“Or eggs and toast.”

“Yeah. I just get a little focused on eating breakfast, that’s all.  It’s like a wake up, fuel me up kind of thing.”

“Huh, huh. Right. Food fuel for the day. Okay.”

“Anyway, that’s my state of Falls report. How about you? How did the snow clearing crews do today? Any more roof jumping contests? Hmm? Have some folks learned their lessons about flying between buildings?”

His face flushing, Sarge smiled with embarrassment. “Hey, we just need better traction for getting up to speed before taking the leap. Some decent sun on those roofs to cut down the slick factor and we’re in business.”

“Sun comes out enough to dry those roofs and there won’t be as much snow to break your falls either.  You and Little George better factor that into your traction action plans.” She leaned her elbows on the table and held her chin in her hands. “So did the crews get to all the worst places?”

“Yes, we did. Everyone’s feeling it too. We need some more muscle to keep going at the same rate. Especially if more heavy snow falls. It would be good to rotate people on and off for shifts and days.  But today it went pretty good, all things considered. No cave-ins yet.  From the sound of things on the news and what you said, I think it’s pretty unlikely any help would be coming fast if something collapsed in the Flats. I don’t even want to think about that scenario in some of those buildings up where Percy Two lives. There are just too many people living in too little space that wasn’t safe to begin with.  Someone has been making big bucks off of bribes to look the other way on some deadly serious structural code violations. Even in good weather conditions, those apartments are health hazards. From what I’ve seen, Rosa picked the best house possible to buy. It’s got the usual problems for any building its age, but nothing that can’t be fixed. And it is safe to live in. Ricardo has done a great job with the electrical wiring. That’s major plus right there. There are very few others I can say the same thing about.”

Lily sat back in her chair and considered what she wanted to ask Sarge and how to ask in a way that wouldn’t offend him.  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and decided to go for broke. “You talk with a lot of confidence about these buildings and codes for a guy who throws freight for a living. Why is that, Sarge?”

Lacking a cigarette to occupy his hands, Sarge put his soup spoon into motion and wondered how in hell, Lily had managed to target one of his own mental minefields. He played with the spoon so long without speaking that Lily began to doubt he’d answer. Then he coughed and raised his eyes to stare at her across the table. “Lily, please remember that you asked the question that I’m going to try to answer in at least a halfway meaningful manner. I’m thinking you have a good reason for wanting an answer. So here goes.”

His left hand began pushing his unruly hair away from his face while his right kept the spoon moving. “I throw freight because it pays well enough to save up some serious cash. I throw freight here in Falls because it’s one of the few businesses between Falls and M- and the surrounding areas that allows me to be completely out from under my father’s rather large thumb. The guy who owns the docks in Falls, Oscar, has no love for my dear old dad. So I work for someone who doesn’t play a certain sort of ball. That is very good for my personal agendas.” Sarge broke eye contact with Lily and watched the spoon fly over, under and between his fingers until he resumed talking.

“In keeping with the whole freight motif; I throw freight where I do and why I do because when I was seventeen I got myself into a world of trouble with my dad and a hell of a lot of other people in the construction business. You see, my dad had, f’ that, he still has, his own agenda regarding making me in his own image so that I can pick up exactly where he ends and keep certain balls in motion. With that in his mind, when I turned sixteen he took  me out of school in order for me to do a lot of apprentice work for everything – carpentery, plumbing, electrical, cement,–you name it, I learned it. I wasn’t thrilled about leaving school because I had my own ideas about my life. But at the time it seemed like there was no choice except to lay low, do what the old man wanted, then duck and run first chance I could when I turned eighteen. Feel like you’re getting a whole lot more than you asked for, Lily?”

She shook her head as she sat twirling her long braid while listening to his reply. “Nope. I think I’m getting about exactly what I asked for, Sarge. Go on, my ears are wide open and receiving.”

“Okay then, the Lady wants the drama to continue. And so it shall.” He briefly looked out the kitchen window at the falling snow. “I decided that I may as well spend the next two years learning and doing everything just as best as I could. Because I’m a dumbass kid who thinks if I do everything right by the book, I’ll at least be creating the impression that I’m going to toe the old man’s line. Here’s where some solid irony starts creeping into my little drama. I’m putting in my time on a building project in M- down near City Hall and I, thinking this was a good way to show I was keeping my nose to the grindstone, start checking the building specs against the code books. At first I’m doubting my own ability to add two and two. Then I realize this is not so. I can add just fine. And multiply and divide too. Hot damn, who knew? I take it into my head that the guy running this building project needs to know what I’ve discovered about the building specs being so far off target that they wouldn’t slide right if Noah’s flood fell on them.”

Sarge met Lily’s eyes and kept eye contact as he spoke.  “So I go to do my good deed. The guy lets me say my piece and even show him on the blueprints what’s going on. I mean, he let me just go on and on for about an hour until I’ve dumped my entire load. He tells me to call my dad and tell him to come down. I do. Dad arrives and they have a little discussion by themselves. Fifteen minutes later I’m taking the worst f’n beat down of my entire life basically because I had no damn right to stick my nose where it did not belong. Now, I’m downright confused out of my mind at that point. I’m so confused I start fighting back like there’s no tomorrow. We wind up dishing it out to each other right in front of an entire construction crew. To make matters worse, I’m not just using my fists, my mouth is running at top speed about the whole f’n business. And I’m running it very loud and very clear so that about a hundred guys hear every word and there is nothing to second guess.”

Watching his facial expressions subtly change with the content of his speech, Lily sensed her home people vibes murmuring soft and low, edging into her awareness yet not distracting her attention from the man sitting across from her.  Focusing on hearing both, she slowly began undoing her braid while refraining from commenting on what Sarge was telling her.

Without looking at it, he balanced the spoon on the back of his fingers for a few moments before sending it back into motion.  “Physically, we pretty much fought to a draw—as in we were both able to get up and walk away from each other. I took my ass home, grabbed a wad of cash from my mother’s purse, packed a change of clothes and bought a bus ticket for a trip around the entire f’n country. Three days later some state troopers stop the bus, escort me off and haul my ass back home. My mother made dad make nice nice to me. That included an extensive explanation of exactly what I’d done to deserve the beat down he tried to serve me. It also included why, if I wanted to live another day, I’d never do anything like it ever again because, even if he died that minute, when I’d run my mouth, word had spread like lightning to parts I don’t even want to think about right now, and I’d have to deal with someone else stepping in to put me in my place in a  much more permanent fashion.” He laid the spoon down on the table. “As Anton likes to say, do you read me, Lily?”

“Yes, Sarge, I read you.” Lily nodded, tossed her now loose hair over her shoulder then reached for the last piece of rye bread.  She buttered the heel crust of the rye bread, cut it in half and offered half to Sarge who, sensing she was communicating something more than sharing the last of the loaf of rye bread, but which at the moment he had no idea about, accepted and ate. She chewed and swallowed her piece while looking straight at the man across from her as he ate his share. “Sarge, I could ask a lot of questions about what you’ve just told me. But I’m not going to right now.  Is that okay with you?”

Sarge shrugged and picked up the spoon again. “Suit yourself, Lily. Ask or don’t ask. It’s just my damn insane personal family drama. Nothing earth-shaking about it. It’s been played out ever since the dawn of human time.”

“I don’t think you understand why I’m not going to ask my questions straight off. I can see just how stressful the whole situation was, and still is,  just by watching your face while you talk.  You need a rest from it, Sarge. From just even thinking about it.” Lily glanced at the spoon now motionless between his thumb and index finger. She pushed her hair behind her ears and leaned forward. “Let’s have some fun.”


“Yeah, fun. What would you like to do for fun?” She waved a finger at him. “Don’t even think of saying ‘sex.’ We’re not ready for that yet. Come up with something else. How about something you really enjoy, but haven’t done for a long time.”

“Oh, well that would definitely be sex.” He laughed and caught the soup spoon she threw at him. “Okay. Okay. I just couldn’t resist after you brought it up.” Setting the spoons down, he cocked his head to one side. “How about we see if there’s any music on your little radio that’s good for dancing?”

“Dancing? You want to dance?”

“Yeah, I want to dance. The other night at the potluck I was going nuts with all that good music and no room to dance. How’s that for fun?”

A smile spread across Lily’s face. “I can do way better than the radio. Well, maybe I can. It depends on what kind of music you want to dance to.”

“Any kind.”

“You’re just being cagey.” Lily went out into the hall and into the storage closet where they’d put her snowshoes earlier. Following her, Sarge stood in the entrance doorway waiting for her to emerge from the closet. First she came out with an old square record turntable in its own box. She handed it to him then returned to the closet for a box of LP records. Holding the box against her chest she looked up at him with an excited gleam in her eyes. “Do you like to swing, Sarge? Hmm? How about some jazz steps? A waltz maybe?”

Curious, he started looking through the records in the box, grinned sheepishly then took it from her. “I have the feeling it’s a very good thing that we’re on the first floor, Lily.”

“Really? Let’s get the couch out-of-the-way and see what your feet can do.”

Picking what music to play first took less time than moving the couch and table against the far wall. Barely halfway through the first track on the Benny Goodman album they cleared the rugs from the floor. When the first side ended they threw themselves onto the couch laughing about their efforts. “Oh that was so bad and yet so felt so good. Oh hell. I think my right foot has defected to the left.”

“Oh you’ve got commie feet, eh? I knew there was something red about you. Now I know it’s your feet.” Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, Sarge took a few deep breaths. “Damn, this is more work than shoveling snow off roofs. That’s not right.”

“Just one commie foot. Oh I think we both need to wait a bit before we do another round. Let’s do something that doesn’t require two coordinated feet. I see that grin. Don’t even say that word in jest or I’ll dance all over your shins again.”

“Let’s kill two birds with one stone.”

“Um okay. Which birds are you thinking of killing?”

“Bread, Lily. Let’s make more bread. The rye is all gone. It’s something I’ve never done.”

“Bread? You want to make bread? Hell, why not. What kind do you want to make?”

“I have choices?”

“Yes. You have choices, funny man. Come on, the recipe box is in the kitchen.”

Sarge looked at the record player. “We need music to bake by. How about some jazz?”

“I think there’s some Miles Davis towards the back of the box.”

“Yes, indeed there is. Oh yeah.  Kind of Blue.” Sarge exchanged the records, started the music and awkwardly soft shuffled his way into the kitchen.

The first loaf of cinnamon raisin bread was cooling by 7 pm. While they danced through side two of Kind of Blue another loaf of rye was rising. Around 9 pm they’d finally found their grove with the music. At 10:30 they raided the freezer in the front room for Rosa’s flour supply. Sarge found a kneading beat he liked while they listened to Jelly Roll Morton. At 12:45 am they attempted a Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers style dance routine in the hallway. That brought a curious Rosa and Ricardo to the second floor landing for a few minutes where they wondered about the flour dusting the floor, walls and ceiling then decided not to venture further downstairs. By 2 am the honey wheat bread was going into the oven. It was around 2:37 am when they managed a halfway respectable waltz. At 3:47 am they abandoned the mess in the kitchen, waved good night to the record player, slid under the down quilt and fell asleep talking about how Fred Astaire appeared to dance up walls and on a ceiling in an old movie they’d both seen but which neither could name.

By 10:10 am they were picking up where they’d left off, alternating making breads and dancing while the record player needle continued making its way through every old vinyl in Lily’s sturdy cardboard box. Lily didn’t pay attention to the snow mounting up outside the main room’s windows. Sarge didn’t think about his dysfunctional family issues. When Rosa came to tell Lily that Esther had called looking for her, she stood in the doorway to the kitchen watching Sarge kneading bread dough and Lily mixing ingredients for another loaf while Stan Getz’s sax swirled through their debate about making oatmeal cookies without or without raisins and chocolate chips for the children.  When Rosa said, “You two making a bakery?” they both noticed her for the first time and stared at her like two children on a sugar high.

Standing in the midst of their mess, they looked at Rosa and then at each other and said in unison, “Another oven.”

Rosa looked at them then around the kitchen and at the loaves of bread in various stages of rising and cooling everywhere. Seeing one of her sacks of flour on a chair beside the table and another sack in waiting under it, she walked over to the open kitchen cabinet they’d converted to a large bread box. After a quick inventory she took a loaf of cinnamon bread and a loaf of pumpkin bread from the shelves. “No chocolate in the oatmeal cookies, por favor.”  She started to leave then stopped. “Rosa’s oven is open for business. Esther wants a phone chat, Lily. Ok. Buenos dias, Sarge.”

“Buenos dias, Rosa.”



Breakfast Special #24 https://47whitebuffalo.wordpress.com/2013/08/20/breakfast-special-24-seeking-and-what-do-ye-find/

Thought for today, and tomorrow and the day after that . . . .


Posters You Too Can Download, Print and Paste Where You Please. Oh yeah, they’re free.

*Come on, you know you WANT to!  Go for it!

*Download, print and post these beauties everywhere!

*Pick one, pick all–cover some space any place.


Thanks to Turtle Talk’s Matthew Fletcher for the link to the page for Honor the Treaties poster download–


Small, Medium and Large sizes are available.

Link to Turtle Talk, Indigenous Law and Policy Center Blog  Michigan State University College of Law


An example of posting of Shepard Fairey’s ‘The Black HIlls ARE Not For Sale” as shared on Facebook page for “Honor the Treaties.” View more images on Facebook.

*photo credit unknown at this time–somewhere in Jasksonville, FL.

Use the power of art to educate, transform and liberate.

“How much is enough?” What’s your tipping point?

Why do we allow a few people to make important decisions that affect everyone adversely and have a negative impact upon Earth?


“wind news”

“wind news”

sniffing wind knew scent

returning relatives dance

is too late hopes not

Idle No More’s Peaceful Women Warriors –and the Issues aka Genocide via Legislation

The founders of Idle No More  @Sylvia McAdam  photo via twitter.


Sheelah McLean (left), Nina Wilson, Sylvia McAdam, Jessica Gordon

If you’re still wondering what has Canada’s First Nations “Idle No More” then brew some tea, get your seat all comfy and let the ladies do their thing–teach. Here’s a very accessible introduction to the issues.  Canada’s Omnibus Bill C-45 has been passed by the senate. Guess what that means after Dr. Pamela Palmater lays it all out.

Sylvia McAdam, Jan. 6 Teach In, Calgary via placesintheforest

Sylvia McAdam presents Peaceful Women Warriors ~ Alberta

Nina Wilson interview with Trevor Grey Eyes News regarding C-45

In depth presentation about Canada’s First Nations issues. This is very clearly presented information and explanations.

Dr. Pamela Palmater ~ Alberta (part 1/4)– On the legislation/Harper/Indian Act/environment and more.

(part 2/4) Water issues, discrimination via the Canadian legal system, pipeline, treaty partners, reserve land,  First Nations elections, protests, chiefs and more.

(part 3/4) Omnibus Bill C-45, treaty rights, jurisdiction,  “unlocking our lands,” education, who benefits from First Nations poverty and more.

(part 4/4) Resource Development by force, right wing media spin issues, social media, White Paper 2012, et al.

Anyone else get the sense that just meeting with Harper is not going to silence the drums of “Idle No More” while genocide is committed via legislation?

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Through the Peacock's Eyes

Insights for Spiritual Living


Living Mental Health Rehab in Israel

the zen space

a space for zen words

We Write Poems

a community of people reading & writing poems, moving words


Bringing Social Issues To The Forefront

R. L. Culpeper

Sapere Aude


For Peace On Earth In This Generation


You can't stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.

Eléctrica in the Desert

News, photos, stories, and trouble from the borderland

Coco J. Ginger Says

Poems and stories of love & heartbreak.