Inviting all water protectors to Austin to join InnerLight Enlightenment Software, apps to save Mother Earth.

Inviting all water protectors to Austin to join InnerLight Enlightenment Software, apps to save Mother Earth.

Posted by Kaya Erbil on Wednesday, March 28, 2018

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12 Ethics of Walking the Red Road

As mentioned and posted before at different times and places here once again as a whole. In order to be a part of NDN culture and socitey, or if you are learning about NDN traditions, one must be able to walk the Red Road or the Good Red Road. Here is some Ethic’s of traveling the Red Road. There are lesson’s to be learned form them so I hope you injoy them. Let me finish by quoting a woman I have come to greatly respect. Traveling along the path of the Red Road, is not an easy one, it is full of disappointments, obstacles, and temptations. But we must continue on it, for we know it is the right path to follow.” -Grandma Rosetta, White Eagle, OK.

Ethic 1 Honor the Great Spirit

 Every element of creation expresses the Creator. Within each mountain, each stone, and each heart lies the Great Spirit. All are of the Creator, each particle of the universe is equally deserving of respect and admiration. When looking upon a sunset, the trees, or even your worst enemy, you are looking at the Creator. Know this and give praise and prayer.

“A wee Child toddling in a wonder world, I prefer to their dogma my excursions into the natural gardens where the voice of the Great Spirit is heard in the twittering of the birds, and the sweet breathing of flowers. If this is Paganism, then at present, at least, I am a Pagan…” – Zitkala-Sa, (Red Bird), Sioux author and activist. 1876-1938

Ethic 2 Honor Mother Nature

 

Mother Nature is not for us…she is part of us and we, like everything else that lives and breathes upon her, are her children. Your own direct connection with Mother Earth is to be encouraged daily. Paint her portraits, swim in her waters, tend to her flowers, stroll through her glorious forest, and care for her many children: all plants, people, and animals. We must live according to her principals and choose not to pollute her body. The alternative is death to our Mother – and death to her children.

 

“The Great Spirit is our father, but the Earth is our mother. She nourishes us; that which we put into the ground she returns to us, and healing plants she gives us likewise. If we are wounded, we go to our mother and seek to lay the wound part against her, to be healed.” – Bedagi (Big Thunder), Wabanaki Algonquin, 1900’s

Ethic 3 Search for Yourself, by Yourself

 Do not allow others to make your path for you. It is your path road and yours alone. Others may walk it with you, but no one can walk it for you. Accept yourself and your actions. Own your thoughts. Speak up when wrong, and apologize. Know your path at all times. To do this you must know yourself inside and out, accept your gifts as well as your shortcomings, and grow each day with honesty, integrity, compassion, faith and brotherhood.

“I have made myself what I am.” – Tecumseh, Shawnee, 1768-1813

Ethic 4 Community Code of Conduct

 

Treat the guests in your home with much consideration. Serve them the best food, give them the best bed, and treat them with respect. Honor the thoughts, wishes, and words of others. Never interrupt another or mock or mimic them. Allow each person the right to freedom of opinion. Respect that opinion. Never speak ill of others. As you travel along life’s road never harm anyone, nor cause anyone to feel sad. On the contrary, if at any time you can make a person happy, do so

“Even as you desire good treatment, so render it. -Handsome Lake, Seneca, C. 1735-1815

Ethic 5 Banish Fear from Your Life

 Fear stunts your soul and limit’s the amount of road needed to travel to reach the Tree of Life, and to know the Great Spirit. Fear is nonbeneficial and body, and leads to an unbalanced mind, body, and spirit. To banish fear you must know your path and trust yourself and the world around you. With trust comes confidence. Self-confidence banishes fear.

“I fear no man, and I depend on the Great Spirit.” – Kondiaronk, Huron, late 17th century.

Ethic 6 Respect

 Respect is to be given for all beings placed upon this earth by the creator.

Respect is to be given to elders, who are rich with wisdom.

Respect one’s privacy, thoughts, and wishes.

Respect human siblings by only speaking of their good qualities.

Respect one’s personal space and belongings.

Respect another’s spiritual path and do not judge their choices.

“Trouble no one about their religion; respect others on their view, and demand that they respect yours. Love your life, perfect your life, and beautify all things in your life. Seek to make your life long and it’s purpose in the service of your people. Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide. Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend, even a stranger, when in a lonely place. Show respect to all people and bow to one….” – Tecumseh, Shawnee, 1768-1813

Ethic 7 Speak the Truth

Speak only the truth and do right always. You are what you say and what you say needs to be honest, forthright, and of your own personal belief. Without truth you cannot achieve inner balance – balance within yourself, with other beings, with Mother Earth, and with the Creator.

“Good words do not last long until they amount to something.” – Chief Joseph (..Hin-..Mah-..Too-..Yah-Lat-Kekt), Nez Perce, 1840-1904

Ethic 8 Reject Materialism

When one is materialistic, one is not right with the Red Road. To value and appreciate what you have to know that you are loved and save under the limbs of the Tree of Life, is to reject materialism and to live a life of virtue and appreciation. Materialism only fills your heart with envy and greed, while appreciation breeds contentment, balance, and true happiness.

“… These are young men. I am their Chief. Look among them and see if you can find among them who are rich. The are all poor because they are all honest.” – Red Dog, Oglala Sioux, 1870

Ethic 9 Seek Wisdom

Those who are wise have lived a lifetime with ears open and a willingness to not only experience truth, but to pursue it well.

Wisdom is gained by:

Listening to your elders. They have walked a longer path than you.

Seeking all that is true. Wisdom lies within honesty, not deception.

Realizing education is never-ending. Even death is a final lesson.

Learning from Mother Nature. Her wisdom is infinite.

“The greatest obstacle to the internal nature is the mind. If it relies on logic such as the white man’s mind, the domain of the inner nature is inaccessible. The simple fact is man does not challenge the wisdom of the Holy Mystery.” – Turtleheart, Teton Sioux.

Ethic 10 Practice Forgiveness

Your journey upon the Red Road will be filled with acts requiring forgiveness – forgiveness of others and forgiveness of yourself. Mindfully practice this incredible act of humanity and the Red Road will be an easy path to follow. Also, absolution breeds the same in others. Be quick ot forgive and others will grant you the same kindness.

“Indians love their friends and kindred, and treat them with kindness.” – Cornplanter Seneca, 1736-1836

Ethic 11 Practice Optimism

It is easy to live within the shadow of fear, procrastination and pessimism. But these are bad habits and stumbling blocks the keep you from experiencing life, the Red Road, and the Great Spirit. It is well know to the Native people that optimism is the key to good health. Worry makes you sick – as do bad thoughts. Replace them with happiness and optimism and you shall live a long and healthy life.

“Oh hear me, Grandfather, and help us, that our generation in the future will live and walk the good road with the flowering stick of success. Also, the pipe of peace, we will offer it as we walk the good road to success.Hear me, and hear our plea……” – Black Elk, Oglala Sioux, 1863-1950

Ethic 12 Take What You Need, Leave the Rest Be

There is nothing placed on this Erath that deserves to be destroyed or wasted for the purpose of human convenience. To destroy trees and leave them unused because they simply block the graden, or to kill animals only for their fur, is not a rightful way to share the world with another. To waste or discard due to own selfishness is an act that goes against the Creator, and strays you from the good Red Road.

“Now tell me this one little thing, if thou hast any sense: Which of these two is the wisest and happiest – he who labors without ceasing and only obtains, and that great trouble, enough to live on, or he who rest in comfort and finds all that he needs in the pleasure of hunting and fishing? – Gaspesian Chief

Taken from 365 Days of Walking The Red Road by Terri Jean

Art by Stephanie Campos

http://stephaniecampos.com/

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Kali. Anonymous’s Hack for Gaia.

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Hacked into Syria via Poetry and Web Developer Club for Kurdistan (Amen)!

Feeding Damascus the fucked up nature of America as vengence for their hypocrisy  I’m into Syria consistently six years later. Amen. Badazz!#solarpoemmachine

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Fukushima Angel: Know When to Walk Away

Safecast radioactivity map.

Late afternoon March 11, 2011

Just outside Sakura no Seibo Junior College, Fukushima, Japan

Radioactivity — 0.36 + microSv/h

She is there in a small tiny apartment, cold and alone. Beaten by life, optimistic. A smile graces her face. Surrounded by madness, sane. They said, “Know when to walk away.” To get out of the burning car and take that first step. To walk away before the flames touch the gas tank, before she can’t work. To walk away before the neurons fail and it gets too hard. The ambient air shimmers with heat, microscopic nanoparticles of fallout. This Fukushima angel is the future, our future anywhere around here. Waters are rising and tempers are simmering to a boil. She lights a joint, California kush shipped in via UPS. This is now, here, there or anywhere. What is it to be alive when the car’s on fire and you’re just walking away? Where is love and home when it’s in a box, five or ten on a truck driving to a new ‘hood? Survival mode and nothing more masks the subtlety and grace of the city cloaked in a thin veil of fallout, just enough to cause her eggs to mutate 0.0001% faster, to what no one knows. His sperm count was in the red, it was a lost cause. Their marriage was a waste of time. Earth is on fire and there’s nowhere to go. Just hop out the car and run. The war on drugs is on her, on him. It’s one day in the life of the post-modern couple and we’re all looking for answers.

Radioactivity 0.36 + mSv/h, Sakura no Seibo Junior College, Fukushima, Japan.

“New map shows America’s quietest places,” Science, Feb. 16, 2015 from here.

Apple Store, Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA

Ambient Noise Level — 75.9 dB

He is there typing on an Apple Macintosh laptop, cold and alone. Beaten by life, optimistic. A smile graces his face. Surrounded by madness, sane. The screen to the right promises human contact that costs nothing other than the purchase price of an iPhone, a photo walk in local surroundings. Off work for the week from UPS, afraid his analytics scores are not high enough to meet the cut. The metaphors of this adult kid’s hour are not that opaque. It’s going to be an admiration fest of big houses, manicured gardens, front yards, birdhouses, and fountains. Boring, at least to him.

He checks his Facebook account for the tenth time in the afternoon, realizing that his friend Kate in Amsterdam has some questions. She writes of his short story post, “Nicely written … and what is the concept? To run? On what sign? To where? … or will we all be lost? Can she get off the island? Will all marriages be useless? Will they go live underground? How long? … haha? I am building food forests for after the apocalypse … wow! Very end times … Fukushima is a horror … for all of us… I don’t dare swim, nor eat fish. No more.” He writes back, “I’d love a paragraph from you.” She replies, “Wink. Smile. Haha. Emoticon. I’ll think about it. Cool, yeah! First World War III … Revelation, this woman? Ah! She’s fine! She understands our situation very well. She’s sane, living in the end times of what, we don’t know.” “Age of Aquarius,” he writes back.

To map the normal hysteria of his baseline existence in real time, giving the real time data stream away as entertainment, is his dream. In all that, the first thing to do in a time of panic is to know where the noise is. The ambient noise of panic, joy, mayhem, ecstasy, and agony. The birth pains of a dream, a silent city with nothing but humans and spaces. No electricity, no speed … silence. To visualize the screams of terror of the masses as they withdraw. What will it take? To be subtle at first, to cloak the intention of the project in a veil of good intentions. It begins as a survival strategy, a plan for answers in an infinitely complex Gordian’s knot.

Walking home, he picks up an ounce of weed from his friend DMT Max and a set of Ziplock freezer bags. Picked fresh from the foothills of Mt. Shasta last week, he drops the fragrant, medicinal herb purchased from the Shasta Green Heart Collective into the Ziplock bags and wraps them for shipping. He writes her address on the envelop Sakura no Seibo Junior College, Fukushima, Japanand drives to the UPS Store. He mails it UPS Air Express, and goes to work. He wants to go legit, to live a good life. To be like his parents wanted him to be, a smart beautiful wife, 2.5 kids, a dog, a three-bedroom home, and a white picket fence. To not give a shit. To be cold, and care about nothing but North Face jackets, iPhones, cars, and house drapes. There’s a long way to go from here to there, it’s impossible to him now. He gets lost in yoga, cheap beer, dancing, and poetry. Head in the clouds because the ground is full of pain. Full of suffering, sonic noise. A cacophony of voices, cars, and computers. He wants it all silent, like the woods. Yet, he craves attention, affirmation, and the presence of others. Where to find that? In Facebook, or on a walk around the Apple Store? In a book, or in a bar? Where?

“This, then, is how you should pray: ‘Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name…’”

Matthew 6:9

Late morning March 11, 2011

Biology Building, Sakura no Seibo Junior College, Fukushima, Japan

She woke up one late morning to the sound of a nun shuffling across the room to catch an errant piece of dropped chalk. Biology class was always a drag, being right before lunch. Dazed and confused she did as she always did in times like that, she raised her hand and asked an impossible question. “What are we to do as good Catholics with the genetic editing enzyme CRISPR-Cas9 in light of Pope Francis’s stance on climate change?” She knew like every other lazy ass with a genius IQ level the best defense is a strong offense. To avoid punishment for sleeping it’s best to shock the nun into cerebral submission. “We’re talking about Mendelian inheritance now, dear, not what?” the nun replied bluntly. “I know, so am I.” Just that second the intercom came on and simultaneously everyone’s Androids and iPhones blared an emergency warning system alert.

“There’s been a tragedy today” the college president announced on the speaker. Students scrambled to decipher the EMS messages while simultaneously clumsily trying to silence their devices. “A tsunami hit one of the Breeder reactors at the nearby power plant, and we are here to inform you that there is nothing to worry about. Everything is contained, no radioactivity has been released and we have seamlessly switched the electric power to draw from backup generators. Keep calm and carry on students.” The president ended his statement, phones were quickly put away, avoiding the wrath of the nun. The chalk rolled on as if nothing had happened, under the gap in the door to the hall. The bell rang, the nun groaned, and all the students heaved a sigh of relief. Everyone left the room but the nun and her. “Why do you sleep through biology? You know more than I do, why?” “I have salsa class now, I’ll see you later,” and with that she left the classroom like all her peers before her.

Her body was a billboard for her inner state, a neon sign for her neurotransmitter ratios and moods. One flick of her jet black shiny hair to the right and you knew you dropped a decimal place, or was off count by half a step. A Sailor Moon style curtsy meant several things, you were in, she thinks you’re odd, you have it coming not necessarily balanced or in that order. Dance was an escape, a connection to space, air, and the unspeakable force of life. In a time of madness, it was her portal to the Goddess energy in her deepest recessed of her repressed Japanese female soul. As much as she wanted to be a rebel without a cause, a libertine free of restraint sexual, moral or otherwise she was tightly bound by ancient codes of behavior evolved from feudal days and before. Catholic values and theology was her grandmother’s escape after her Hiroshima. She had folded 9,454 paper cranes as prayers for peace, peace, peace after suffering severe radiation burns. Passing away before the count could reach the 10,000 target promising immortality right before the last breath of air left her lungs, a nun came and prayed with her. That was enough to bypass centuries of hatred and she died believing that there was a promised land, with a smile on her face, in heaven. That’s the memory that she had that shackled her with restraint, a dance here or there in a dark club late at night freed her inner Kali. The devi, chasing a fleeting moment of feminine memory before agriculture and city-state, freedom.

…to be continued…

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Integration of AI via Black and White AIPoets.

Teaching how to make Amazon Echo Alexa skills now via my new website hippiebook.io, making the videos this week on two poetry robots the Black and White AIPoetBots.

Posted by Kaya Erbil on Monday, March 19, 2018

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Soma 2.

It’s not that I like to be cruel, or to love the darkness. It’s a strange addiction I have with love, and war and the things that our hearts find as extremes. The extremes of American life today where everything is at the touch of a finger on a piece of metal and glass, the iPhone and love and war. Games we play, swiping right and left. Like it’s a solution to our age old problem of love and war. I mean love is madness, as war is madness. Love and war are really not all that different, I mean one is micro and one is micro. The same. The same struggle over ideals, or what is right. I mean to share a bed is to trust your enemy, the other sex. The one you don’t know, or understand. I swiped right on MuzMatch and got here, some strange new Muslim only dating app. God, what is this thing we’ve done giving Muslims access to Tinder, what a recipe for disaster. What a mistake, to mix two cultures that don’t understand each other. This mess, this hot mess is not really that surprising or unheard of. I struggle with identity and face in this country who wishes to deport and wall. I get neck deep into a situation, read her my Grady Hospital records with hopes of an understanding of this thing we call bipolar disorder. This thing we call in this country manic depression, with little bit of PTSD on the side from all the police and psychiatric commitments, and all the drugs. All the pills, as they say:

All the advantages of Christianity and alcohol; none of their defects.”

…there is always soma, delicious soma, half a gramme for a half-holiday, a gramme for a week-end, two grammes for a trip to the gorgeous East, three for a dark eternity on the moon…

Benito was notoriously good-natured. People said of him that he could have got through life without ever touching soma. The malice and bad tempers from which other people had to take holidays never afflicted him. Reality for Benito was always sunny.”

  • Brave New World, Aldous Huxley

Yup, so where are mine, I cannot afford them. Traveling from state to state lost in an activist haze. Trying to save a world that should not be saved, alive but not fully rational. This strange mix of madness and sanity, I mean I avoided the conflict today at home by working a full day and returning to the keyboard at night outside a coffee shop open 24 hours for people like me. I am of the devil she said, perhaps but what if this struggle is beyond her scope. Do they know about American psychiatry in Iraq? Probably not, and for that reason it’s best to stay away. What a mistake to marry into this mess. I wish I had not, but at least I am alive and awake to write and struggle back to a sense of sanity and balance after years homeless and on the road. After years of struggle and loss, after burning every trace of past to the ground what is left but to walk forward. To where I don’t know, this may sound like quite a ramble, and it is. However, I am coming around and wishing that I could do better. How does one teach another to step back and listen in the face of doubt and pain, and realize that love is slow like a graceful river now for me. I don’t want a rollercoaster or a raging river, or class V rapids. I’ve done all that before, several times and I am tired, exhausted in fact from the very fact that I’ve made it here alive to struggle one more day. One more fight, they say in the Guardian:

Bruni’s taps deliver poison to its poor, largely Hispanic residents but other rural towns in the state suffer with water that is black, brown or stinks of rotten eggs…

Julio Perez sprayed his yard with water from a garden hose. While the flowers were no doubt grateful for the refreshment on a warm afternoon, there was no chance of him quenching his own thirst with a gulp of tap water.

The 66-year-old lives in Bruni, a tiny Texas town notable for a very unwelcome reason: the quantity of arsenic in its water. In 2014-15 the average concentration of the carcinogen was 79.6 parts per billion: almost eight times the federal limit.

This was a mild improvement on the long-term average of 85.3 ppb since 2002, but Bruni was the runaway leader at the top of the Texas arsenic standings in a report compiled by the Environmental Integrity Project. The next-worst rate was 56.2 ppb in a district serving the 5,000-strong ranching community of Hebbronville, 13 miles from Bruni.

Using data from the state agency, the Texas commission on environmental quality (TCEQ), the report identified 65 Texas community water systems, serving over 82,000 people, which over the past two years have exceeded the arsenic standard set by the Safe Drinking Water Act. It found that some 51,000 of them in 34 communities have been exposed to drinking water with excessive levels of arsenic for at least a decade.

This is not news to the residents of Bruni, a poor, mostly Hispanic place 45 miles east of the border with Mexico. “Most of the people don’t drink the water any more,” said Perez, who has lived there for more than 25 years. “It looks cloudy,” said a woman in town who declined to give her name. “We don’t drink it,” said another.

The borderlands are replete with small, underresourced towns like Bruni where many residents have given up on using the water.

  • https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2016/apr/02/texas-water-quality-arsenic-levels

Well, I am here mind as well be of service. I should not get to close and look for love, I mean this is business. Never fall in love with your charity cases, you don’t understand their culture or their ways. It’s more science and exploration and the journey into the unknown for me than anything else at this point. This strange on the road life, living like Kerouac, is not seems to be. I never read the book, I was forced here. I could not afford my soma. So be it, let’s live out the war, and forget the peace. This is a war, a war on the poor waged by me driving around too much. A life afraid of connection, of silence and of peace.

Thank God Divorce in Texas is painless and easy, God Bless America.  God Bless Texas, and Georgia.  God Bless you, and God Bless Jesus.

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Love Letter to a Millennial Girl

Love Letter to a Millennial Girl

My love, I know, I’ve seen it too,

It’s not like you are any one in particular,

Or, small or fat, skinny, or tall, or white or black,

I’ll tell you a secret, a quiet one that you learn in time,

Paint in the face of doubt, lift your body out of the chair,

Walk outside my love, don’t be afraid to run away,

Walk, walk with the winds of time,

…escape for a moment and go to the waters,

Get a couple used bottles and get the water,

Go home, boil it down, and go to Blick’s Arts Supply,

Buy a canvas, and do an enso, just pour the water down in that canvas,

Let it dry, stare at it, come back, that’s your mind,

Your mind is earth and water, it’s her is it aways has been,

Take a walk with me in five dimensions, not that I am there,

I never am really anywhere, drifting here or there,

Where are you my wife, my love I was there long ago,

In a small hut by the sacred water of Coast Guard Beach,

I walked with a stick and played in the sand,

Come on out to the sacred water, my love you can see it now,

In ways that you once could not, toiling away at a cotton mill or in a call center,

I tried all that and it broke, Mind, the deep secret is that it’s water,

It always ways, I saw you at first sight and could read the pain,

The way you never looked me in the eye,

I wanted to blow you apart and put you back together,

Those I love I don’t leave untouched, the omega point is not that far off,

We’re almost there, total unity, Facebook says unite the world, make it smaller,

You swipe right for love, my love, let me give you a secret,

Lovers write with pens and paper, they dictate to secretaries,

…or hid long enough waiting for the moment to explode with yearning,

Where are you, why have you not been here before,

Your generation, is full of children men, and sage women, healers, dancers, shamans,

Artists, not hippies, cyberpunks and torn jeans, black boots, and share snaps of wit,

Not that you have much choice, I could not see it today, in my life,

We looked for the hole in the wall, the fly in the ointment,

You, see the sun for the light it is, yearning for the age of Aquarius,

But you know, I thought that was gone long ago,

On your arms, you wear a badge of similarity, of Minnesota Nice,

The thing I like about New York and Boston is they just go ahead and run you over,

Just get it over with already, they said,

“At Harvard the knife you in the back, at MIT they knife you in the chest,”

So true, glad I like it that way now, I’d like you to dance over your walls,

Learn to scream and run naked in the snow with me, with your sisters,

Madness is a human right now, in this age, we are all allowed,

Let it be the norm, so we can all understand we’re all together,

It’s not that I know what to say when I see you in pain, my love let me write you a letter,

A love letter by hand, I know that sounds so strange, to profess love to a digital phantom,

Tha phantom sees it as the norm, I’ve never really known home in earth,

Or see peace, in a time, here or there, for these reasons, I am there with you,

I skipped a generation, a generation is all we have now, to decide,

It was put there for you to determine, for that reason forget it,

Walk away, it’s not your problem, go to the water and pray,

These are the times we are in, to accept fate and bow and relax,

Forward we go and I know anything that is slow is good,

Slow food, walking, shoveling snow, animals in the woods,

Goats that eat poetry, cats that drink poison water, they are here to accept it,

They will come back, don’t worry, we will create space soon,

Let me hold you in prayer, I don’t know what else to do,

I am scared too, these are the time we face, be it as they may,

But know that you have done something extra ordinary today,

Something I know, and want to heal, I dream and pray,

Each day, for your healing, what else to do but write and paint in the face of doubt,

My tears run as the rivers, to wash away those things that hinder you from crying,

See a man cry, a grown man cry, it’s possible, I did it yesterday,

Let me tear stain a love letter to you, whereever you are.

Sent with ProtonMail Secure Email.

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Environmental Restoration LLC Destroys Another Supply of Water for an EPA Contract of $25,000.00.

See Navajo Gold King Mining Accident Wikipedia for background on this company.

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How I Hacked My Way into #MeToo via the Arts.

Cadmium Blood.  Black oil from Austin, Texas streets, yellow is cadmium sulfide, red is cadmium sulfoselenide.

I’ve worked for about three years with people involved in the Standing Rock water protection movement in the United States documenting abuses with the misuse of AI by companies like G4S, TigerSwan, etc. independently away from any media outlet or money source. Everything has been self funded with help by my mother. We’ve been at this for nine years since a false mental health diagnosis at MIT in 2010 while I was a postdoc at the Whitehead Institute of MIT in the lab of Susan Lindquist. It’s a really long story that I’ve documented on my blog in the form of poems, photos, and art. It’s my long term hope to publish the content of this blog in a book called “Steal This Facebook!” modeled after Abbie Hoffman’s book “Steal This Book!” I am looking for readers and people that might serve as friends and allies in this long struggle for peace and serenity. I’ve been on the margin of poverty for a number of years because MIT and Berkeley blacklisted me as a chemist making it nearly impossible to find work. My advisors sold out Berkeley to British Petroleum for $0.5 billion as explained by this LA Times article. Chemistry and other upper level sciences has long had a problem with abusive research advisors both at the graduate and postdoc level. It’s my sincere hope that my poetry and other art can help other people in similar situations see past the darkness to a more holistic way of life. I’ve adopted a more spiritual path to life after grad school and have found a great deal of healing in the way the arts can help and serve as a bridge to others.

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