February 28, 2014 Common Thread Collective Poetic Conscious’stream

February 28, 2014

Reality Bytes and The Common Thread Collective

Poetic Conscious’stream

Alexandria “Rain” Smith

 

The greatest power in existence

Transformation

Impatient for a witness

Found me sleeping

In the nest I made of spit and ashes

 

She poured the waters of her heart upon me

He planted the rhythm within me

 

I arose from the mud

Every sense cleansed open

To interpret the song

As it sang muscles into motion

 

I dance with the Transvestite God

As She spins with a wind

Under which all harshness softens

 

I gallop with the Transgender Goddess

Gallantly guiding His warriors

To the strength of creation

 

She threads His needle

And makes a spiral of the chain-stitch

He laid straight

 

He brings wood to Her fire

And stretches a skin over her loins

Making a drum of Her

 

Their single Hand

Clothes me in embroidery

Places the drum in my two

One to hold steady

One to move steady

 

I play a beacon through the Darkness

 

The blind can see the rhythm

The deaf can hear the light

Hand in Hand they rise

 

Men made over by the strength of women

Women recreated by the sensitivity of men

Each beside the other

Transformation enthroned within

 

Hands hold the hem of this tapestry

Feet guide threads woven

With each step in this journey

 

Our voices make an offering

A mighty choir in brilliant harmony

Color the image of our perception

Help brothers and sisters to see what they cannot hear

 

Sew lyrics to teach of the painful progressions

One witness,

two shared with,

four directions learn

How to find the medicine growing from our need to mend

 

The great hoop that remembers no beginning

Will live to see it is without end

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February 21, 2014 Common Thread Collective Poetic Conscious’stream Is.14

Based on the Missoula Independent Cover Story (Vol.25 No.8 Feb 20-27 2014):

http://missoulanews.bigskypress.com/missoula/the-damage-done/Content?oid=1932025

The Damage Done by Kelly Conde

 

1970s, NE Montana, on the Fort Peck Reservation:

The cool springs of water off Road 75 still offered temptation,

Luring the townies with jars and jugs in preparation

They knock on the door… “You’re water’s so sweet,

Can we get a little please?

That cold natural flow is too much of a tease!”

 

Get in while the people are oblivious...

Get in while the people are oblivious…

In the 1950s the lands nearby fell under the scrutiny

Of three major oil and gas companies

Who tapped in with their drills and pumping machinery

To the depth of a 300,000 year old ocean creation.

The 1st encroach on the Bakkan formation

Has devastated today’s cool sweet water on the Indian Reservation.

 

It took 20 years, it happened slowly…

First it made the pipes rusty,

Staining the sinks and drains;

Then it colored all the white laundry.

Once the clean dishes remained oily,

Then it was time to drink bottled water only.

The smell of sulfur like rotten eggs wafts

From the bathtub, the bubbles aren’t enough to cover the stench.

The skin of the youth is too delicate;

When it began turning blue, then even the bath water they hauled in.

 

One concerned Lady, made early inquiries

She wondered at the change right as the faucets began rusting.

It took two decades for a community member to move into position to help.

She opened her ears to the strange tales being told of the water.

“My water is yellow, it smells awful and looks like pee.”

“My water is reddish and it’s staining everything!”

“My water, can you believe, it’s 0 degrees Fahrenheit and it still won’t freeze.”

“My water, it tastes salty; how can that be?

Seriously, check it out! It’s even fizzy!”

 

This lady took her brain muscle and personal grit to the USGS,

Where accumulated evidence was piling up higher than the depth of Butte’s Berkley Pit.

Add on 10 years for an in-depth investigation

10 plus the 20 it took for anyone to do anything

Plus the 20 it took for the contamination to begin coloring the plumbing

And that’s 50 long years of environmental, soil and water being tainted

Just at this stretch of prairie land in Montana.

 

40 square miles of land has been tarnished, it’s undisputed.

Somewhere between 9 and 60 billion gallons of drinking water polluted.

That’s enough water for the lifetime of every Montanan,

But no one’s counting the gallons the wildlife depend on.

 

Murphy Oil Corp. was the 1st to find the Bakkan oil;

In 3 years had built 35 wells.

Other companies came and together they claimed

The oil for their profits

So the future’s destruction lined their pockets.

 

From 1952 to ’55 there were no guidelines for the wastewater created.

Into unlined pits- directly onto the ground and unregulated,

Ancient hot water still slick with oil residues devastated.

Sadly, legislated regulations do not enforcement hone.

C.C. Thomas Oil Company was still dumping up to 42,000 gallons of waste water per day alone!

In 1961, at a public hearing, a company Rep. claimed “It’s not hurting anyone.”

 

Retired wells are forming more dire straits.

Just a ½ mile from Road 75 one sealed up just couldn’t wait

For the end of time to advance its impertinent fate.

The cement bonds loosened and underground pressure forced

Oil and tainted agua back up to seep into the shallow aquifer.

This well, close to the residents is monitored for its vicinity

The impact of its hot plume of oil-stained water has been, for its neighbors, devastating.

But there are numerous wells in the East Poplar fields that don’t get the same monitoring.

If only it was profitable to speculate how many of them are leaking.

 

14 families filed suit with a tribal attorney

A pipeline for WATER is what they were seeking.

Meanwhile an EPA toxicologist discovered Benzene

A definite carcinogen linked to over exposure

Now giving real cause to the high number of cancers found in the neighbors

The oil companies now had two strong contenders:

The People on Road 75 and the EPA wielding safe drinking water standards.

In 2002 this suit was finally settled.

The companies will build a pipeline connecting these residents to the water

In the township of Popla.r

They will also pay each family $60,000 in damages

And $5,000 to replace the pipes in their houses

They still sent bottled water as well, for 10 additional years

Or until they are certain their tap waters are clear.

 

5 years ago, in 2009

The Poplar Dialysis Center cried out with a sign

High levels of chloride were found, the mark of the ancient ocean’s brine.

The contamination had caught up with the town’s water too.

The EPA quickly charged the same 3 companies with responsibility.

Of course they appeal and deny any accountability.

 

And I’m sure you’re all wondering, how I’m going to end this long sad story.

http://www.nemontel.net/~dprw/actvities.html

Dry Prairie Rural Water Authority

The waters of NE Montana are diseased

The companies- Both oil and agricultural are free

From healing the waters for the lands and creatures in need.

They chipped in to pay for a rural treatment plant

That is cleaning the mud from the mighty Missouri.

They paid for the pipe that brings water to Poplar.

But they don’t have to suffer

From that pipeline breaking 20-30 times a year

For it was rushed into production without proper planning

Just like they rush into drilling, pumping and scamming,

As they put away special savings

To pay lawyers, when the time comes for evading.

 

February 7, 2014 Common Thread Collective Poetic Conscious’stream Is. 12

“I pledge allegiance to Mother Earth

And all the life which she supports.

ONE planet, in our care,

Irreplaceable, with sustenance and respect for all”

-not my words… not sure who’s…

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inseparable

We are ready for the change

Gather us in

An accumulation of crystal visions

Each perspective adding contours

Like cumulous cloud forms

Ready for the transformation

The alchemy of time transfiguring mind and matter

Into new physical forms and ways of being

Ready the floodgates to be open

Filled with precious intuition carefully collected

Over years of listening listening listening to the sound of a world gone awry

Let them open and spill into the drought worn land of our disillusionment

Let them open and spill forth with the creative quenching

Washing away the chemical manipulation

That dried up and hid how heirloom phantasies are withering

That mirage on the horizon is waiting for our belief in the water we need

This year is a horse at my side and ready

We both made it through the muck left by the coal ash, chemicals and bitumen spilling

Now to spring forth, for this toxic deceit is not worth drinking

The fire inside is set for cleansing

Set muscle to bone taught tendons to vault beyond their barbed fencing

The foundations running away from our feet

Are the stones they made to appear perfect but their lies are hollow and empty

We toss the stones the Builders refuse in front for our trodding

Each step faithfully grips a new reality

With each breath together we define what is to be seen

Our visions form vast expanses of vibrant hues of every brilliant color

Feeding fully from the compost of unnecessary deceit

To grow strong wills, opening with transparent clarity

Unafraid to blossom with potent vulnerability

We are ready

To be seen as interdependencies

Rotating lines of horizons and vertices

Spiraling perfect geometry

There is no musician and instrument

We are all fingers and strings

We are all elements of breath and brass and reed

We are all pores in the skin stretched taut

And we hone our will to stretch with what’s taught

By the breeze and the bird and river canal

By the root and the worm and rotting core

By the stem and flower and fruit into seed

We hum with the rhythm of the Universe’s composing

The drum of the heart is our gospel singer

Inspiring

Hands to grasp the hoop of all relating

Here we find all once lost

Is still rippling with longing

We are ready.

January 24, 2014 Common Thread Collective Poetic Commentary Is.10

Excerpt from Empty Harvest: Understanding the Link between Our Food, Our Immunity and Our Planet by Dr. Bernard Jensen and Mark Anderson, copyright 1990 by Bernard Jensen.

From the chapter on Soil, pg 36:

“To appreciate the historical perspective of the diminished state of the human immune system in the 1990s, we must not assume that science and truth march straight ahead and that the present is the beneficiary of the accumulated knowledge of the past. Because, in many instances—health and nutrition is one—the past is full of deception and factual manipulation resulting in the inheritance of a tarnished view of scientific progress. History repeatedly proclaims that business and politics are too important to be governed by the facts of unfeigned science.”

Healthy Forest YNP, photo by Rain 2006

“Business and politics are too important to be governed by

Unfeigned, [genuine] science”…

Oh deceiver

What do you stand to gain

An inch above your brother

For a platform to your shoe inlay’n

Puppet masters began the trend

Now see your height as their will to bend

Easily paid for with the blood of the land

Coins, stolen from the destiny of the dead

Pool in your pockets instead

Now the living dead cannot ferry across

The rivers of Styx and Acheron

Lest we also become acolytes

In the temples of Dow, Monsanto and Chevron

The great-grandfather figureheads of the modern myths

Getting us drunk on the whiskey that pours from their lips

Lulling us to sleep on neoliberal currencies

Too intoxicated to feel the barb-wire sting of their so-called securities

Rocked by the water-treatment-ways that stole the living river from its course

Daydreaming in the empire’s nightmare built on the malnourishment of profit-bound force

Stamped with the claim to Freedom

Freedom, bleached re-enriched with a shelf life of a century

Freedom, soap bubbles floating from the mouths of millions

Freedom, a kingdom of the spirit; we have the keys to it, but cannot find

Freedom is a hollow claim

When the business of politics and industry dictate

Living ways

Perhaps the cry will again

Strike true chords

And remind us that

The life to know is more than mine or yours

We all feed on the health of the soil

The well-being of our rootlets in communion

Foster the well-being of our soul

And therein true Freedom may sprout once more…

January 17, 2014 Common Thread Collective Poetic Commentary Is.9

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Common Threads weave through every heARTform

 

One Soul calling out to the whole

Words echo from a dream-state:

“We should wake

And not be held by some unrefined vision of it.”

 

Awakening

A lingering vision:

Footfalls upon brittle plants

An entire field of dark decimation

Crumbling away… the vision fades

 

Eyes Wide

Open to the globe

Out from the covers

Feet to the floor

 

Perception seeking

Realities of life on Earth

Lifting the veil

One foundation to explore

 

Many lenses offer insight

Rays of light shine through prisms at different angles, through different facets

Each reveal and obscure distinctive elements

Truth is amorphous and unprejudiced

 

Truth, amorphous and unprejudiced, sliced into wedges and put through a juicer

Blood oranges of pain and hunger paint this glass red

Fermented brutality of prejudice perpetuated by dogmatic fanaticism

                                                                   By ethnic and cultural discrimination

                                                                                    By corporate detachment

                                    Blood fruit, soured, floods the fertile earth and my cup

                       Tearful tsunamis of salty decimation pinched and dashed upon

Lemons add acid, golden and unmerciful

One from the tree in the yard

                        One from the tree plantation

                        One’s citrus burns through the ink on the codex

One’s citrus adds fuel to passion’s will to cleanse

Eat through the scum clouding the focus of a billion eyes

                         Or eat through the wisdom left for the future to learn from

Then, the kale, vital medicine, secret weapon

            Green leaves grown in the bitter cold

                        Acids, of whatever intention, unlock the essential minerals of body nourishment

 

One world Being

            Strong limbs

            Weak ligaments

Drink down this concoction

 

Let this fuel facilitate remembrance

Re member the body aggregate

Lift the veils on every dimension

From cellular membrane

To humanity’s fenced-in conditions

 

Conditional life

Cannot foster unconditional love

Oh! One

Make a choice!

 

Unconditionally envision

New sprouts beneath the broken

Uplifted by regeneration

Soothe the soreness of this body made broken

By the mouth

                        So blinded by the selfish eyes

Not to see its hunger was the foot

                        Starved apart for the hand that only fed it’s other

            And died only to become ghostly bones dancing on pages yet to be written

 

Let every One

Envision

Hand to mouth to feed the foot

I’s that see whether open to within or to without

But all ways open

To be uncovered by the hunger to witness, comprehend, appreciate

All the gifts every aspect brings to this presence.

January 10, 2014 Common Thread Collective Poetic Commentary Is.8

'Written in the snow' photo by Alexandria "Rain" 2007

Something is always left behind…

 

Rebirthing the year

The arbitrary moment in time, assigned

The solar occasion 11 days after Solstice

Fulfilled its part

Ignited micro-galactic threads to pulse illuminations of renewal

Resolutions to try harder do better focus more

But there is no try

No better

No more

There is only: to do.

And there is much to do.

 

Do, to heal violence

The violent anger in our minds grown from the injustice

Done to self

Done to family

Done to friend

Done to enemy

The violent mudra of our hands

Curled around forms of pernicious perception

See the unfairness

See the pain

See the disease

See the apathy

The violent energy in our motions

The inertia of emotion

Is driven

Driven like massive drills into dense earth

Driven like fast cars on dirt roads

Driven like precision bombs

The explosion is shaking us into bones of remembrance

We remember to look behind

To see the shrapnel; to see the dusty obscurations; to see the tailings in the water

To see there is always something left behind

 

Remember: look behind to see the years gone by

Look beyond the moment that awakened each lifetime

Look back to find the dog-eared pages

Of the minstrels, healers, teachers, perceivers

They left a code for us to find

Burned into a fence post

Stone cairns on the wayside

Bits of poetry graffiti on the floor of a bus

A moleta left in the middle of nowhere

Footprints painted on walls

Feathers floating all around

Follow them to the wings beating with the wind

Follow the sound in, to find the wings are our own hearts making wind

 

Beating a rhythm into presence

Echoing through an elemental cavern

Space opening Wisdom’s patient message:

Violence will never end

But action can heal the violence destined to come

Can help suture the wounds created

Can make music of the sounds

Can dance with the inertia

Until it settles down

 

We can do

This healing is our purpose

The medicine calling within us

It is the gift we came to life with

No preconceived notion needed to be obtained

This action is a movement

Surfing the crest of willing thought

Thought willing to listen through compassion

Through communal-passion

Action happens like a voice singing: “Come Unity!”

Community gathers round the fire

The fire it is our healing

The elements cry out

Their joyful tears, a cleansing blessing

Some prefer the rain, some the fire

We naturally take our positions

And find nothing missing

 

We were only missing

This moment

Of true renewal

December 27, 2013 Common Thread Collective Poetic Commentary Is. 6

December 27, 2013

Reality Bytes (Poetic Offering)

Alexandria “Rain” Smith

 

Dedicated to the incomprehensible potential of a brand new year…

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As we move into the reference point that catalogs another journey round the sun I am feeling quite reflective about this journey that we’re all on. And I wonder why we should wait until April to remember that the Earth is one and every day is Earth Day for those of us that stand upon the surface of this brilliant imperfect sphere. There is one constant all life here spins with: transformation. Life and death impart to all the realities of freedom; freedoms to grow, freedoms to let go, in part, in whole. Transmutation from life through death into new forms living, giving; effected, affecting unceasing change.

Little blue light reflection, spin us into a new planetary vision. Imagine deafening fear and raging war entering silence, stillness and emerging peace. Women silenced now allowed to speak; hidden reserved, now enter the streets. Beside their brothers, valued equally for their ability to learn and teach.

Imagine the sick and weary readily offered the rest and medicine they need. Antidotes, cures, healing relief not strictly divvied out as pills and surgery, but as listening, patience holding, love rocking, meditation, reflection, retreat. The idea that someone is independently stricken with disease laid to rest by the compassionate care of community. Understand that when one is ill, we are all suffering.

Imagine all imprisoned for non-violently sharing beliefs set free. Those imprisoned for hurting others seen as the hurt the have caused and allowed to begin a process of rediscovering their own humanity. Those who have hurt so many indirectly by actions of their own or cooperatively, finally disciplined, made to comprehend how their choices impact an interconnected system.

Imagine densely populated urban centers becoming epicenters of organic possibility. Sacrificing corporate profit making schemes for renovations that need people to access their creative, collaborative ingenuity; that we may all share in the wealth of receiving what we need to live healthfully.

Imagine humans un-fencing, un-bordering the world. Walking through mountains, forests, prairies, tundra, deserts, jungle, marshlands- all environments seen are teachers of our cultural progression; no longer forcing them to change but allowing self to be changed by. Allow wisdom to teach from the voice of the sea or air on the wing, as we open ourselves to soar with our dreams.

Imagine this story is never ending. We take care of the love we seek in order to keep it continuing. That alone is enough to transcend every nihilistic, apocalyptic nightmare that sends its own seeds on the wind.

Imagine each care you create is a nearly imperceptible spore that fed and watered will eventually take the most phenomenal forms to inspire and feed forever more.

Every day brings change like an offering to explore and exchange these present flavors of perception. I have a choice and I choose my direction to be here now with the Earth; to see, hear, smell, taste, feel and be felt by all her life that journeys through death toward rebirth. May this New Year bring us around to renewing our faith that we can find what we’re searching for.

Peace

Selah

Blessed Be

December 6, 2013 CommonThread Commentary Is.3

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By Alexandria “Rain” Smith

This piece is dedicated to everyone who doesn’t feel worthy of the liberation we all deserve. We all deserve the Freedom to feel through what we are feeling; to listen and follow our emotion into understanding. We are all worthy of living, feeling, breathing, learning many practices, praxis’ of exploring how we relate and what we create by our own offerings. I dedicate this Peace to every being that has been so challenged to follow their creative passions because an Other, in their weakness, felt threatened by what we might be, empowered—truly the most tragic mishap of all history, the cause of immeasurable pain, these kinds that fester, are refracted and perpetuated through concepts of time. In our moments of eclipsed light may we see the auras of the courageous candles that burned their way through the walls of adversity that others may follow and see: it’s a long road, so you gotta decide what it’s worth to be free.

“Creating health requires making a paradigm shift… to a new way of thinking about and being in relationship with our bodies, our minds, our spirits, and our connection with the universe.” –Chistiane Northrup Women’s Bodies, Women’s Wisdom

“It is what we make out of what we have, not what we are given that separates one person from another.” Nelson Mandela Long Walk to Freedom

We dream ourselves forward. Transformation born of our hope, our need; discovered, within a dry wrinkled weakened sheath, a most beautiful and tiny seed willing to swallow us through the birthing canal into a new day’s dream.  We follow the footsteps of the most beautiful courageous being we can imagine could be. Be, as Florida Scott-Maxwell put it, “Fierce with reality.” We look upon the living tapestry and acknowledge the disease along with the beauty. We refuse to deny that “indelible blight” of Apartheid, American slavery, the Andrew Jackson-Nazi-Pol Pot-Pinochet-Generals of the Dirty War-Mbotu Sese Seko-regimes of unquantifiable atrocities, all these scars we bear as humanity. We will not forget the paths that brought us into darkness that we may face the challenge of bringing each other back into the light. Blessings for the struggles to suture the gashes they were, were born of “proud rebelliousness, a stubborn sense of fairness” that rallies the mistreated to arise!

Life patterns entrap us when they’re not helping to imprint us with positive reinforcement, giving us strength to realize the best stance to take at the moment we are asked what we have to offer. We make the decisive and patient choice to untangle the knots of our conditioning formed by the battles of our personal experience. Meditating upon the mediation of enemy perspectives we hear the song describing the Good Red Road between them. As fully prismatic, multifaceted beings, we become willing to take a multifaceted approach to a life of re-creating health, regenerating the wealth of collective wholeness. We confront the imprisonment of habitual fears, entrenched in presumption culturally created by a hierarchical perspective to maintain perverted states of control, We are breaking free to realize we can lay the foundations that allow true strength to catalyze and evolve into miraculous collaborations no one alone could have ever foreseen.

On this walk, we take with us the wisdom forged before us, for us. We listen to the voices calling within us speaking the languages of fellow ailments wailing like a mighty chorus. We retreat when the violence simply floors us, but we will never surrender our will to wait for a break in the storm to let the rainbow once again shine and realign the paradigms in order to see the path of mending before us.

Peace

Selah

Blessed Be.

November 29, 2013 CommonThread Commentary Is.2

November 29, 2013

Reality Bytes (Poetic Commentary)

Written by Alexandria “Rain” Smith

Dedicated to four directions of Indigenous Resistance; the actions of every person born to this planet that protect and preserve the ability for life beyond humanity to thrive. To those who Idle No More, who Occupy the heart of resistance in order to protect what we’ve not yet lost, to heal what’s been lost, broken, victimized, taken, and to grow natural empowerment that nourishes the diversity all life needs to face the challenges of disease. To the Peace wagers that would silence violence with their own flesh in order to suffocate the perpetuation of war-cultures colonizing, today my heartstrings play for you.

 

Today the Earth spins, the Moon guides tides, the sun illuminates.

Today my giving thanks is a dance perpetuating balance that elucidates.

Today, arisen strong with remnants of gratitude crazy quilted together into memories wooly and warm for snuggling up with when comforting camaraderie, not faded but gone far away to alight upon other focal points of exchange, for giving through formless self, gifts of form in time and space; treasures of wealth that defy a material gauge.

Today while many are judging their day by how much they are able to buy, how much money they are able to spend or save, today I contemplate the many who are taking to the cold in attempts to save time for the future. Those that are standing along roadways in protest of heavy equipment driven to further degrade our quality of living. Those that are in the streets in protest of government regimes that continue to value corporate schemes higher than what the communities they govern really need. Those that are chained to trees, heavy machinery, or busy telling resistance stories. Those that are gathering to support workers, to support first nation rights, to support the environments that sustain more than us, to support the peaceful flights of reality that are changing communities from within by challenging the prejudicial structures that attempt to uphold schisms.

Today I give thanks for every person who faces danger, judgment, extreme weather or political environments in order to personally proclaim truth to power, whether I agree with their perspectives or not. I give thanks for the disease that guides us to learn causes to cure. I give thanks for the difficult paths that teach the courage to endure.

Today I give thanks today for free, to freedom- the place where prosperity reigns for everyone to enjoy with equanimity, the place where what we create is valued more than status, ownership and profitability. Where our creative intentions are for the benefit of all and weaken none. That’s where my gratitude calls home. Where blue scarves are tokens of solidarity beneath our universal sky-dome, where different creeds, religions, political perspectives and beliefs can still acknowledge grounds for unity.

 

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What really lay beneath?

Today I am grateful for all that surrounds me, for I know so little of the whole story. I am grateful for this ability to glide along and witness more and more international and intentional communities. I am grateful for these times, for these challenges that are allowing more and more people to abandon ‘us and them’ for ‘We’. I am grateful for dreamers making the gardens for their dreams to seed. I am grateful for the wombs, the womyn, the moon dancers who carried us into the light. For their partners in the dance that create new life from hipstories twisting or intellectual electric tendrils conceiving insight to bear new beings. Sprouted to grow the length of the praxis lines we follow spiraling. To greet rising sons and daughters of new tomorrows grounded in the strength of our Mother, the Mother of all, this Mother ball that holds us for the length of the journey carrying us upon foundations of mystery within the atmosphere of creation being born between the dancing of Earth and Sun through this shimmering galaxy.

Peace

Selah

Blessed Be

NewSprouts

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted thoughts here, but I’ve decided to blow the dust away and plot along again…

May the thoughts shared here, seed in an other’s internal ear

Clarity of the situations we choose to be involved in by the very apathy we allow our choices to be lost in

Inspiration to regain pro-active choices that will change our world and our lives before our very eyes….

Peace through Being

Rain

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