They Love to Kill

Katrina Blair and others have identified a bunch of plants that could save our lives. In her case she identified thirteenn plants that she says thrive where people live and on every continent. As I researched these plants I found that references were almost always how to get rid of them--how to kill each plant. Yet in other countries many of them are grown as food plants or at least used if found in the wild state.

It seems that the Great American Dream is to live surrounded by a lawn that resembles Astro Turf. This lawn must be mowed to keep it very short, even in hot, dry, weather. The sound of mowers seems to be the demonstration of manhood. "My lawn is better than your lawn!" G.B. Shaw said that man proves his strength by his destructiveness.

I had a mullein growing in the roadside in front of my house. I went out of my way not to disturb it. It is one of my all-time favorite plants. After it had grown about three feet tall I found it crushed to the earth. Marks in the nearby earth showed that someone had driven off the pavement to run over the mullein and destroy it. The plant had marred the terrain by standing tall above the others.

Not only are such people the great destroyers of any plant that dares to rise above its fellows, I do believe they are of the ilk that wants to level off people too. How dare anyone try to be different, to stand out against a uniform world?

Thankfully, there is a very different group that loves creation, that eats so called noxious weeds and even thrives on them. The men grow ragged beards as soon as they can, and the ladies wear a kind of muu muu and have hair dos that look like Cousin Itt's. There's a face in there somewhere. But I love them and what they do.

Could it be that God in his graciousness has provided us with wild food aplenty for those who not only LET IT LIVE, but even nurture it? When grocery shelves are empty these people will not starve. I hope the others are buried in nice, neat graveyards where the grass is always mowed.

Some Other Grain

And that which thou sowest, thou sowest not that body that shall be, but bare grain, it may chance of wheat, or some other grain. I Corinthians 15:37

I never feel closer to Paul than when he uses earthy images. This passage is from a wonderful chapter. It bridges the gap between what is really deep, and what everyone understands.

Today we buy our bread from the store, except for those wonderful people who bake their own. Almost no one sows wheat. But everyone knows that one little grain must be buried to become many more grains. Paul uses such an unmistakable image, one that no one can misunderstand.

But now I want to ask, Why does Paul say, "or some other grain?" We may ask why not just quit with wheat?

Today, we understand. But there was a time when people fastened upon each word as something to possibly worship. They became fixated upon the symbol, instead of what it should represent. Does this sound extreme?

I think of Ceres, the goddess who gave us the word "cereal". I suppose no one understood the pagan mind better than Paul. There is a lesson in Bible interpretation here. Don't get hung up on the symbol. Rather see what it teaches.

I see Paul as saying "or some other grain" to tell us not to think of a type of grain. Any grain can serve as an example. The important thing is, some day you will be resurrected. Your old body will be gone, and you will have a new one.

I love the truth about resurrection and our new lives. Soon, I expect to experience it.

A Helicopter Trip All Around the World

You have unlimited funds so you plan to take a high speed flight everywhere. Maybe leave out the South Polar regions. In fact, leave out where there are no people at all. You decide to take a close look at people and how they are doing.

You even have vision and listening devices you can lower to hear and see the lives of individuals. Off you go, starting with America, Canada, and Mexico. If you did this you would have a view that God has all the time.

I watched a video that took a look at a man and his son living in Cairo. They had a little cart, and an old, starving horse that they urged to speed through the streets making deliveries. They were barely making a living--enough for food, and not enough for the horse, as he was very thin. You could see his ribs.

Their desperate, hurried , lives were followed until their poor horse, their means of living, collapsed and died. You could see how horrible their situation was, and had been.

Rescue? Happy ending? There was none. The last scene was of the little boy grieving over the horse, his eyes brimming with tears.

How many scenes like this one will you see as you take your whole-world trip? A French philosopher once wrote, “Sooner or later, life will break your heart." Such a dismal view!

Some will cry out for a positive viewpoint. “Let’s talk about what’s good about Cairo.” Many things, I am sure, but they will not wipe away the tears of that little boy, and many just like him.

You take your amazing helicopter trip. Starting with the USA, what will you see and hear? Much hurrying. Much commerce. Isn’t this good? But as you listen to individuals, will you see happiness?

I promise not to get into stats, even if I could, but I believe what you would see would not be the happiness you have been told is everyone’s birthright. Monitoring will reveal a high misery index, in economy, in marriages, in health.

Your helicopter sweeps you through Europe, whose crumbling structure shows the feet of the great image in Daniel Chapter 2. People crowd in from Africa for a better life, many from regions of severe drought. But the governments that support them are running out of money.

We haven’t even mentioned South America, a continent that gets almost no mention by the gatekeepers of the press.

You conclude your flight. What will you have seen and heard?

I feel the clumsiness of my analogy, but I have no patience with the positive thinking of people who would tell us that all will be well. Only if the Bible is wrong.

Things will be shown to be hopeless by the end of your trip. People will suffer and weep even more, until God intervenes. But he will intervene.

I have found that many avoid the Bible because it has such a sad and terrible viewpoint. They have not seen the rescue that is coming. They have stopped reading too soon.

For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. Revelation 7:17

A Hopeless Case

Two psychiatrists were having lunch as they often did. Their offices were in the same building, a large mental health facility. After they had exchanged the usual pleasantries one asked the other how his cases were going.

"Anything unusual?"

"Afraid not," he answered. "We get a lot of cases referred by the courts, competency judgements, the usual murderers, assault people, thieves. You know, run of the mill."

His lady companion sympathized. It gets routine after awhile, she thought. "I have a case you might find interesting. He is an old man with really bizarre obsessions, not drug related. We always check on that, first thing."

"Perhaps just senile dementia. Lot of that these days, as I'm sure you know."

"No, he checked out ok on that too, though he is at the age for that sort of thing. This one has me puzzled. I'm pretty sure his problem is not organic. His cognitive functions are not impaired, for a man his age."

The young man was an Old School Freudian--Jungian. His luncheon companion was a Behaviorist, though their methods and results tended to overlap somewhat.

"So, tell me some specifics. What kind of obsessions?"

"Well, I thought I had heard them all. We both have. This man is obsessed with food."

"Nothing too unusual about eating disorders. Is he an obsessive eater or does he try to starve himself? That's usually a problem with female clients."

"Neither," the lady replied. "He is convinced the country will soon run out of food. He can be very convincing, as objective as I try to be. He has all kinds of data too. He is very logical. He almost has me believing it! Now don't give me all that archetypal, collective unconcious stuff you people believe in."

"Well, humanity does seem to subconsciously remember famines. I raise horses and they are terribly afraid of fire, even little bonfires. I figure their ancestors escaped from forest and barn fires, and they have memories of that."

This was too much for the behaviorist lady. "Please don't add racial memory to your list of crimes against rational science. I haven't told you his delusional solution to all this starvation thing. It is weeds. He thinks there is enough nutrition in weeds to keep people alive. 'Until Jesus comes,' he tells me."

The Freudian-Jungian sat up. "This one is really serious" he said. "obviously a hopeless case."

Life as an Irish Setter

"Fast in the field, with a clown-like personality." That is how this breed was once described.

I inherited my dog, Emmy, when a dear friend of mine drowned. Her family asked if I wanted her. I did, as I knew her and she would be a part of my friend's life I could hang onto. She was lonely when we first had her. Big as she was, I used to hold her and feed her by hand until she got over it.

I took her out to a friend's field and let her go. She zoomed off to the the distant field edge before she returned to me. I felt a kinship to this breed as I learned how they hunt, though I do not hunt.

In World War Two the U S Navy asked mathematicians to describe the most efficient pattern for destroyers to sweep for submarines. They could have watched this breed search for game birds, as they do this by instinct. No one has to teach them.

Where do I come into this empathetic relationship with these setters? The clown-like personality part is easy, but sweeping the field came a lot harder. I have searched for knowledge as she did birds, but in my case with a lot of false trails.

Once in a woods behind our house, I stopped to rest against a tree. My wife spotted me and let Emmy out, telling her, "Go find Gerald." I watched with fascination as she charged off searching for me. She really could follow a scent trail with speed. She overshot her search for a moment, then came back right to where I was sitting.

Oh, for the talent of my dog, not to be deceived but for a minute! My life has led me in so many wrong directions. I was tempted by a number of cults. They seemed to have what I was searching for.

Worst of all, churches were not interested in such problems as doctrine. They had "other fish to fry", such as increasing membership, acquiring more real estate, and fellowship dinners with people who did not know whether the Gospel of Luke was in the Old or New Testament. Nice people, some of them, but they could not guide me. I was on my own.

Dogs are lucky. They just know things, with no doubt whatsoever. I found the truth,eventually. Or rather it found me. I only wish I could have found it as fast as Emmy could follow a trail.

Eh, What's Up Dock?

Actually, that is what's up. A tiny baby Dock plant.

It does not know it, but it is just a kind of token plant. I just want one, that's all. I want to see it's second set of true leaves. It only has two leaves now, but they are sturdy and off to a good start.

I love seedlings, don't you? No matter what the odds they are all optimists. "We can make it!" is what they seem to say.

I don't know about the others, but I plan on this one making it. It is close to a fluorescent light. Every breath I take gives it it's vital atmosphere. I will always know what a curly dock looks like, since I will have watched it as a child.

It is a biennial, except in long warm seasons. But having babies or seeds at age two is doing very well, don't you think?

I don't want it to get a big head from all this attention though. I mean, after all, as wonderful as it is, it's no giant Amaranth, or even a Lamb's Quarter.

Weed Eaters Make Big Gains in Polls

Don't I wish! I confess I just made this up. But in my Alternative Reality it could happen.

Who are these people anyway? They are the guys and gals with chlorophyl-stained green teeth, the people whose breath smells like hay. I add that they are an odd bunch. They have never been so thin, but they say they feel great, once their bodies have adapted to this new non GMO menu.

It won't be easy. We will need support groups for people who can't forget the old ways. We even plan a group for those with insatiable cravings for macaroni and cheese. I'll be a charter member of this one.

But aside from staying alive by eating the world's last pure non- GMO food, these Weed Eaters will avoid the dependence on Government Issue nutrition. Especially children and mothers to be, will be saved.

Remember, until you make your exit, maintain a blank stare. I learned this one from the hero of "The Killing Fields". Once we get away we can be as angry as we want.

View RT Exposes Eugenics Agenda: Governments, Nestlé, Monsanto, Bill Gates Cause Misery&Death.

View the documentary, Seeds of Death.