The Day After Katrina

Not too long ago I was talking with a family member. He had a sudden urge to invest a large sum of money into some real estate venture along the Jersey shore. I advised him to think about what he was considering. I suggested to him to always be weary of those "good ideas' that suddenly pop into his head they may go contrary to common sense. I mentioned to him that the weather changes that we are seeing in this day and age are bizarre and unpredictable and if anyone was considering buying property along the shore then they should, as a matter of common sense, pay heed to the signs of the times.

I told him that, in my view, the increased frequency of the storms and earthquakes on this planet is but a reflection of something that is going on at a much deeper, psychic, level. I told him that the earth is alive in its own way and that it is imbued with a certain consciousness of it's own.

But he never listens to what I have to say when it comes to these kinds of things. He immediately reacted to my advice and said that, as usual, I don't know what I'm talking about. He said something to the effect that things are always as they have been and that all will be as it will be and that all my talk about these bizarre weather conditions are nothing more then my reading too much about "conspiracy theories" and the like and that it was just my imagination.

However, a couple weeks later Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans.

Now he's listening to me a little more.

But not much.

Evidently it takes more then hurricanes and earthquakes to wake some people up.

All we have to do is look at Hurricane Katrina and it's aftermath to realize that
the boat is rocking and this may be the precursor of a much larger storm or storms approaching.

A few raindrops hit the windshield before the great down pour.

Right?

But there are many who won't accept this. For many, a storm cloud and a few drops of rain doesn't necessarily mean that its going to rain.

Especially if the newscasters said that there would be no rain.

If George Bush said that there will be no rain then they'll believe it. But now his pathetic response to the Katrina disaster has opened their closed minds and shaken their belief systems about Bush and his administration. When it comes to the suffering of many, especially the minorities, then Bush has shown that he is a world class hypocrite.

Bush thinks that "God is on his side."

But wasn't it Abraham Lincoln that said that it is we who must be on God's side and not the other way around?

Bush's desire to rule the world, his MATERIALISTIC mindset, no longer fits in the reality of the future. This materialistic "god," that the US Government worships with such ritualistic obsession, is trying to be used to control the creative forces that seek expression through mankind.

But these creative forces cannot be contained, controlled or televised. If these creative forces are not consciously expressed but, rather, are suppressed by the ever increasing draconian controls placed upon them by those in power who have this psychopathic materialistic mindset, then these forces will become unconsciously destructive, and will be absorbed into the very "life" of the Earth Mother herself. These destructive forces will be absorbed into the very substratum deep within the Earth and then be unconsciously unleashed, with great fury, CREATING great havoc upon the Earth.

There will be retribution for the collective ill-will and materialism that grips this US mentality. Retributive justice, in the form of earthquakes, floods and earthquakes will be the price the world pays to suppress the moral creative force that wishes to express itself through the hearts and minds of mankind.

Those in power know this. They seek to use this havoc to their own benifit using trickery and deception in the process.

But they are not as smart as they think they are, anymore then a child is smart by playing with dynamite.

They cannot control the uncontrollable nor predict the unpredictable.

But they think they can.

Matter in a solid state is rare in the universe. The earths crust may be solid but
it is a scene of energy exchanges between the elements. Winds, waves and rocks all play their part in these dynamic energy exchanges. If the Earth Mother is alive then the Earth will respond to those like the Bush government who wish to suppress the creative forces by dominating those who wish to express it.

This will reflect itself in the waves, winds and rocks.

With great fury.

The Earth can be existentially life's prison or it could be essentially life's mother. This separation and imbalence of the outer and inner, this separation between 'self' and 'other,' is brought about by materialism, which seeks to subvert the creative force that seeks to balance these existential and essential streams so that they may play in harmony.

This great imbalance caused by materialism results in great waves.

They may be great waves of seismic activity causing earthquakes or great waves of water causing floods, or great waves of greed causing economic collapse.

But waves they are nonetheless...seeking balance.

What we see on the existential outer world is but a reflection of the essential inner world. It seems to me that the mass consciousness knows that something is approaching in the near future, but they are unconscious of it.

Cycles repeat themselves, just as a bicycle wheel turns round and round, and now there is a "cycle" that is about to repeat.

These cycles have repeated themselves in the past and they will become our future if we are unaware of them.

We know it, we feel it, we sense it, but we cannot "see" it because it is in the future.

But that doesn't mean that it is not real. It only means that it does not yet exist...yet.

You might want to read the following information from someone who has studied this
in much greater detail. Laura Knight-Jadczyk has much to say about this. It may give you something to think about.

I also found this article by Natalie Pompilio that expresses the true horror of the Katrina disaster. Her name also makes me think of the last days of Pompeii.

By Natalie Pompilio

Inquirer Staff Writer

Natalie Pompilio, a former reporter for the New Orleans Times-Picayune, has been in the city since last Sunday, covering Hurricane Katrina.

NEW ORLEANS - My beautiful city is gone.

I call it "my" city because I lived here for almost six years, the longest I've lived anywhere in my adult life.

This is a city that got into my blood, as anyone who has seen my Philadelphia home - decorated with memories from my time here - can testify. Some of my dearest friends live here. Some of my best times were had here.

And last week, I watched New Orleans die.

My friends are alive, but many of them have lost something: their homes or belongings, maybe their jobs.

This is a city of celebration, and now there is only sorrow. The flooding throughout the city, they say, can be blamed on Hurricane Katrina.

But I honestly believe that tears - so many tears shed by so many people in the last few days - have added to the problem.

This is worse than my time in Iraq. There, the language barrier meant I was always a little bit separate. Here, I can understand every word people say to me, and it's killing me. This is the hardest thing I have ever covered.

Maybe it's so hard because I love this city and my friends and I see them all falling apart. Maybe it's the horrible things I've seen in the last few days.

There have been so many "worst moments."

I was interviewing a man when a woman walked up to me, weeping, and said: "Can you write down my name? Because I don't think I'm going to make it."

She had waited at the convention center to be evacuated for about a day without food or water.

"I don't know where my husband and kids are," she said. "They went to a hotel for the storm, but now people tell me the hotel is empty."

I wrote down her name - later lost when the notebook got wet and pages ripped out - and gave her a hug. I tried to comfort her. But what could I do?

There are dogs, dozens, loose on the streets and highways. I have yet to meet a bad one. I pet every dog, diseases be damned, and am always rewarded with wags. The ones that have collars, I try to see where they're from. Some tags have addresses, and the addresses are inevitably underwater. There's no way I can make a call.

Strangers beg for water. They want to know where you're staying and if they can stay with you. They want you to put their names in the paper so their loved ones can find them.

I feel that I've met people who are going to die very soon. They are old and frail and unable or unwilling to evacuate. Some are resigned. Others are angry.

I have seen dead bodies before, many times, in my work as a police reporter. Never have I seen so many at once, and so many treated so callously. In actuality, it's a practicality now as the focus here is not on preserving the dead but saving the still-living.

For the last few days, I haven't been just a reporter and writer. I've been a counselor, a consoler, listener, friend. I start my day with a wad of tissues in my pocket and by the end of the day, there are none.

I have flagged down help for sick people and helped carry them to resting places.

I've tried to coax smiles and laughs from sad-eyed children, succeeding every time I sketch a Snoopy in my reporter's notebook and give it to them.

I wonder, sometimes, if that's crossing some journalistic line. Then I think I really don't care.

I feel bad that I can leave this. I feel bad that I feel bad about losing some of my own belongings in the flood. People have lost their lives or their homes, and I'm upset about a few rings?

I started one story with an anecdote about an elderly man who died while being evacuated, and how his body was propped in a lawn chair in a busy area, covered with a yellow blanket. His wife was sitting next to him.

A National Guardsman said his men could take the wife but would have to send someone back for the man. The soldier asked me whether I could get someone to keep a watch over the body so no one "did something" to it.

Before the Guard drove off, the soldier and I looked at each other. We both had tears in our eyes.

The next day, when I was back in that area with other reporters. I said, "Oh, this is near where Booker T. Harris died, the man I wrote about." And I looked and there he was, still in his chair.

That man had lived for 91 years and this is how it ended.