Category: Culture

Abuse, Addiction, Alcoholism, Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Culture, Diversity, Family, Forgiveness, Friendship, God/Jesus, Healing, Human rights, Humanity First, Politics, Social Media, Understanding

I’ve Joined the Cult, Part II

Lisa Burbank

“Don’t just pretend that you love others: really love them. Hate what is wrong. Stand on the side of the good. Love each other with brotherly affection and take delight in honoring each other.” (Romans 12:9-10)

After hitting the “Publish” button earlier this morning, I flew out of my home office, behind as always. Roosters were crowing incessantly and felines threatened to trip me up all along my “route” as I filled bowls with food and water. Yet my mind was still racing along with my feet.

Our present social climate deeply concerns me. Not just media, or government, but friends and family, too, strive to silence any opposing opinion these days…encouraged and emboldened by that same media and government. They do so with scorn, with derision, by labeling and belittling. They embrace the constant fight-or-flight dialogue in media, and social media, the insidious fear-mongering that would keep us as sheep, never questioning what we see around us.

This post, and the one before it, may have to be taken down at some point. They will likely get flagged on social media. God forbid someone openly considers an alternative to what has become the norm today.

I’ll risk it.

So much for Freedom of Speech, or Freedom of Press.

It is worrisome. Anyone who questions the efficacy, or the validity, of this *jab* is labeled: cultish; conspiracy theorist; domestic terrorist.

Why?

There has never been, to my knowledge, any drug, or medication, or medical procedure, that has not come with risks. We see the infomercials every day when we turn on the television. We hear them on the radio as we drive down the street. And we shake our heads at the often lengthy list of side effects associated with each one–many of them worse than the malady they’re designed to control (they never really cure you of anything; there’s no money in that). Somebody, somewhere, has questioned the efficacy and the validity of these medications in the infomercials. We don’t suppress those. Instead, we glorify them for the advertisers who hope to get you dependent upon them. Often with good outcomes, such as controlling one’s diabetes, or high blood pressure, etc., but the dependency is still made…if we CHOOSE the treatment encouraged by our medical practitioners. Always before we’ve been allowed to make these choices for ourselves.

But not this time.

This time, we are obviously too stupid to make any choices for ourselves…without having a blue ring stuck in our nose by which to be led around.

Why is it not okay to question this new medicine? Why are we being compelled to accept without question? What makes this *jab* any different from Prozac, or Metoprolol, for example, that it should be exempt from the usual scrutiny or initial distrust? And, more importantly, why does our government, and friends and family, seek to punish us by the loss of our jobs/income, by the loss of our homes and all that we have worked for through the loss of that income, by isolating us from each other for not complying? Why are we being labeled as social pariahs merely for making an informed choice as we have always been allowed to do with any other medicine or medical procedure…rather than nodding incessantly like a stuffed dog in the rearview window?

“It’s a pandemic” is the usual response to such questions; it’s catching.

So is the flu. We’ve never been threatened with job loss, or social isolation, for not getting a flu shot.

Perhaps that’s next on the agenda…

But, more importantly, we must ask ourselves, should we be normalizing the constraints and practices implemented under a special circumstance? For example, should we have grown up with each of us wearing one of those creepy, bird-masks used during the Spanish Flu a century ago…just in case it might still be “catching”? Yes, they were the stuff of nightmares, and it seems ludicrous in this context, but so is seeing the loss of personal autonomy over our own bodies.

I’ve talked a lot in my blog about growing up in an alcoholic home. I’ve talked about the abuse. And the suppression of following one’s natural instincts and inclinations. When my stepfather thought he was losing control of us, when we said something that he didn’t like, or disagreed with him, he got directly in our faces and, with each *point* he made, he slapped the counter beside us, pounded the end table, to punctuate it. Though he never laid a hand on us during his monologues, our bodies jumped with each slap, or pounding of a fist, on that hard surface. It was fear-mongering at its finest. Other times, he pulled the guilt card. How could I have called the cops on him? Look at that record album he bought for me last week…much like we all got $1200 in a stimulus check so we should be grateful and allow our bodies and minds to be controlled by those who gave it to us.

Perhaps we should all adopt a 12-Step program to cure our addictions to both the mainstream and social media’s biases…

Yes, there is a lot of misinformation out there. Sadly, it seems to occur more frequently within the same party that supposedly champions equality for everyone regardless of color, religion, gender/identification, or socioeconomic status.

Apparently, diverse political ideologies don’t deserve the same equal rights…even those of us who usually identify with a more progressive party, but are still questioning what we see in the media, and on the streets, today. How dare we!

This is wrong, and frightening, on so many levels.

Going back to one of my opening paragraphs, yes, family and friends do belittle and label those of us who are questioning and choosing differently than they have but, usually, only on social media. Rarely do I hear labels, or belittling tactics, in person. The armchair social media junkie is bold and brash only when they cannot see the hurt their careless remarks inflict on another human being. Like the alcoholic who hides behind their addiction, and tries to control the world around them because they, themselves, are out of control, these armchair *experts* who espouse their-way-or-the-highway ideologies, forget that there are fellow human beings on the receiving end of their tirades. Perhaps if we all remembered that, and responded accordingly, the strangle-hold of our dopamine addiction would finally heal. Isn’t that what Jesus would do? Instead, there doesn’t appear to be even a feigned attempt to listen to our brothers and sisters, or to try to understand where they’re coming from. Such humanity is discouraged…and labeled a threat.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve hit rock-bottom.

May God bless you & keep you!

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-this-animal-sanctuary-grow-and-thrive

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I’ve Joined a Cult…or, So They Tell Me

Lisa Burbank

“There is a saying, ‘Love your friends and hate your enemies’. But I say: Love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you!” (Matthew 5:43-44)

I have a different opinion than my “leftist” brothers and sisters. It is an opinion based upon news articles, and both independent and foreign news outlets, because I don’t consider our own mainstream media trustworthy. Their advertisers, who support their programming, are all too often big pharma, big tech, big oil, agribusiness, monetized green energies, and/or corporate America. That creates a bias. Who, in their right mind, is going to bite the hand that feeds them? As I re-enter academia to receive my Masters, I am reminded again that biased information is to be avoided…and how to tell if it is biased or not. I look for peer-reviewed information, when I can find it, and really dig down deep for any reason that might create a bias when I can’t find a peer-reviewed article on a subject. I’m not perfect, but I do my best.

Sadly, it’s becoming dangerous to think for yourself. Were the men who orchestrated The Boston Tea Party to rise up against the tyranny of the British monarchy today, like the Canadian truckers, they’d be labeled fascists and white supremacists, even with no evidence to the contrary. How dare you fight for individual freedom? Considering the outcome of The Boston Tea Party, it’s not much of a stretch to think that maybe the Canadian government is afraid of a similar outcome. They’re certainly afraid of a loss of control.

And, by proxy, so are our U.S. leaders.

These are scary times. That almost cliched expression of our Founding Fathers rolling over in their graves is apt; they would be if they could see us today.

I’ve been homesteading and prepping for years, albeit with some major setbacks (shoulder injury with subsequent job loss, pending foreclosure, zoning challenge). I see the hardships coming as big pharma, big tech, big oil, agribusiness, monetized green energies and corporate America continue to crush the working poor, the small business owners and the family farms by ever stricter regulations…with these shutdowns being the final nail in the coffin for far too many. I see the challenges to our individual freedoms, the hypocrisy of “my body, my choice” when it comes to ending the life of an innocent child, but how dare you fight for that same bodily autonomy when it comes to getting jabbed with something whose long-term affects are still unknown and that has neither stopped the spread, nor protected any from contracting, this new *bug*. I see the attempts to keep us divided, distracted, and ignorant.

An acquaintance of mine posted a picture on social media of her well-stocked pantry last October after she’d finished canning everything from her garden. Her post was tagged. She is considered a “radical” and “a person of interest”. For canning her produce instead of wasting it?

Or for independent thought and action?

So, I guess I have joined “the cult”. Like Senator Bernie Sanders, who embraced the “socialist” label, rather than rebel against it, I, too, will accept the label. You may disagree with me. That’s okay. Sadly, though, by labeling each other, we shutdown the time-honored tradition of debate and discourse that has been the cornerstone of any grassroots’ movement, of any significant change or advancement of our society. Closing the door to one’s mind only leads to a dead end.

Open the door. Open your mind. And pray without ceasing.

May God bless you & keep you!

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-this-animal-sanctuary-grow-and-thrive

Animals, Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Culture, Healing, History, Holidays, Nature, Religion, Spirituality, Wicca

Happy Imbolc, St. Brigid’s Day & Year of the Tiger!

Lisa Burbank

“The Lord’s blessing is our greatest wealth. All our work adds nothing to it!” (Proverbs 10: 22)

First, a quick shout out to anyone reading this who celebrates the Chinese New Year, which is today. 2022 is the Year of the Tiger in the Chinese Zodiac. Anyone born in The Year of the Tiger is said to be passionate, brave, possess an unusual sense of adventure, be philanthropic and trustworthy but, also said to be stubborn, opinionated and often rebellious. In truth, I’ve found most zodiac descriptions to be quite general (i.e. many of us can claim traits like these even if we’re not born in The Year of the Tiger) but, it’s fun to read and learn, and wonder about. And greater minds than mine studied and learned and gave us the zodiac as a gift; there is also something to be said for the sometimes uncanny accuracy in these descriptions as well. Regardless, I want to wish everyone a Happy New Year today if you and yours celebrate the Chinese New Year! And, if you’d care to share, I would love to know more about how your family celebrates. Feast? Parade? Dancing? Please share in the comments section below…=)

Today is also Imbolc, Brigid’s Day, or St. Brigid’s Day. This one I know a little more about. Celebrated traditionally in Ireland, Scotland and the Isle of Man, and amongst Wiccans today, Imbolc is the first day of spring. And, if you’re paying close enough attention to nature, even here in New England where we have almost 2 feet of snow on the ground, you’ve probably noticed the days getting just slightly longer and a softness to the air that speaks of the warmer season just ahead.

Brigid, both the goddess and the saint, is said to protect homes and livestock. She is also associated with the lambing season, spring sowing, the blooming of the blackthorn, blacksmithing, healing, wisdom, poetry and, some sources, also associate her with seamstresses. Saint Brigid’s Day is a traditional Gaelic festival celebrating the midpoint between the winter solstice, or Yule, and the spring equinox, or Ostara. Brideogs–doll-like figures of Brigid–and special crosses are often fashioned out of rushes, or reeds, and displayed in the home. In earlier days, the brideogs would be paraded from house to house, and beds made, food and drink left, to welcome her blessings. Sometimes a wand made of birch may be left near the bed to represent the wand she is said to use to grow vegetation. In pagan lore, she is a fertility goddess. Along with St. Patrick, she is a Patron Saint of Ireland. In Christianity, she has the added virtue of having wet-nursed the Christ child.

Whether Brigid is goddess or saint to you, she is said to visit virtuous households and bless the inhabitants. And I pray that today, she will bless your family throughout the coming new year.

May God bless you & keep you!

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-this-animal-sanctuary-grow-and-thrive

Abuse, Animal Rights, Animals, Appreciation, Bereavement, Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Compassion, Culture, Diversity, Emergency Preparedness, Faith, Family, Forgiveness, Friendship, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Grief, Healing, Holidays, Homesteading, Human rights, Humanity First, illness, Open-mindedness, Politics, Poverty, Prayer, Prepping, Religion, Scripture, Social Media, Spirituality

Happy New Year 2022!

Lisa Burbank

“For you have a new life. It was not passed on to you from your parents, for the life they gave you will fade away. This new one will last forever, for it comes from Christ, God’s ever-living Message to men.” (1 Peter 1:23)

I find myself unable to think of a word, or biblical phrase, to define this year. I’ve thought of “Intention”. “Trust”. “Discipline”. I need to work on all of these…and a phrase/verse from the Bible to help remind me.

Wow.

I guess I really am mired in depression. See? I need to work on that trust issue for sure!

But, as always, on New Years’, I like to take a moment to reflect on the year past and remember those loved ones who will never again grace The Herbal Hare in life.

Praise the Lord, my human family has been hale and hearty this year. =) However, we did lose the boss of the barnyard this past spring. Sgt. Feathers, my Polish crested rooster, is protecting his ladies in heaven these days. And while his sons, Radar and MIG, and grandson, Jeep, are doing their best to carry on with protecting our living flock, it seems strange not to hear his trumpeting anymore…followed closely by a little, squeaky half-pint of a crowing. Tank, the little Silkie, who, having followed so closely at Sgt. Feathers’ heels in life, followed his commander closely in death, too. I lost them within a few days of each other. With Sgt. Feathers, it had been expected; every day was a gift. He was quite old for a roo (10) and had started walking almost hunched over like the old man he was. Tank, however, is a mystery. No sign of illness or injury. But, because they like to peck the ground, parasites are always an issue…no matter how clean and careful you are with their environment.

Sgt. Feathers
Tank

We also lost two beloved felines this year.

Only a few days after I posted last New Year’s memorial, Mom’s cat, Rosco, left us. Rosco had an interesting life. He was found atop a house in Illinois during all the flooding in the Midwest over a decade ago. No clue who his owners were, he was brought to a local shelter. Mom and my stepfather were shopping at PetSmart one weekend. The store was hosting an adoption clinic this day. Mom saw Rosco and fell in love. But my stepfather said, “No, no more cats!”. She worked on him as they wandered the store and, as they reached the checkout, he relented.

But Rosco had already been adopted…

…by their upstairs neighbor in the apartment complex where they lived! Said neighbor did not take good care of him though. Mom watched in horror as this declawed kitty had his front paws intentionally raked over the rough bark of a tree, lost weight due to inadequate feeding, and lastly was kicked by the neighbor’s boyfriend. Mom saw them outside with him on a leash, marched over, picked Rosco up and walked away with him. When the couple protested and threatened to call the police, Mom challenged them to go right ahead so she and the other neighbors could all tell the police how cruel they had been to this little guy. Poor Rosco had to have his jaw wired from the kick. And had to be fed frequent, tiny meals for awhile until his shrunken stomach could handle more substantial amounts of food. He grew to expect the frequent feedings though. He was quite fat by the end of his days…except his tail, which stood up skinny and reminiscent of the wire used to guide the bumper cars at a fair. He rode shotgun on the dashboard of Mom’s minivan when she traveled across country from Missouri to Connecticut to move in with me back in 2014. His “hoot” will be missed (Rosco’s jaw remained misshapen due to the abuse he endured before Mom rescued him and he could not articulate a more traditional “Me-ow!”).

Rosco

Lastly, Kirby. We lost him in May 2021. Kirby came to “visit” for the first time in the spring of 2014. I heard some of the resident felines howling in protest in the kitchen, went to investigate, and saw a bright-eyed little face peeking in over the window ledge. He did this for several nights…all while I protested I did not *need* another cat. He probably belongs to a neighbor, he’s just passing through, etc. But he kept coming back. And, finally, I determined that, yes, God had planted another stray kitty in my path. I started feeding him, gaining his trust. It took a few months (!!??!) before I was able to trap him and get him indoors. And then another couple of weeks of him being isolated in a room by himself until I could get him to a vet.

He howled all the way to the vet office, ripped open his toes trying to claw his way out of the travel cage, and then shot out of the cage and placed bloody runnels down the exam room walls as soon as the doc opened the cage. He had to be sedated so she could examine him, patch up his mangled toes, neuter and give him his shots. I seriously thought this was one baby who was too feral for a forever indoor home.

He proved me wrong.

Mom had just arrived with Rosco and Max, her blue heeler we lost a couple of years’ ago, and Kirby and Rosco became bosom buddies, along with Paz, my geriatric tuxedo. Then, a few months’ later, when a pregnant Priscilla was dumped off on the farm, he minded her babies like the proud surrogate Papa he became to them. He, Ozzy, Emmylou, and Alice Cooper became inseparable, and he was a sort of ambassador to every poor feline this farm has taken in since.

However, I proved him wrong, too. I told him he would love laps someday…and I was right. Once he was reassured that he was loved and there would always be someone to care for him, he was the ultimate cuddle kitty. =)

Kirby with his adopted “sons”, Alice Cooper and Ozzy Osbourne (l to r)

Both Rosco and Kirby, Priscilla late last December, and earlier in 2020, my Pearl, all developed kidney and heart disease rather suddenly after using Seresto collars. I don’t know if there is a correlation, though I did see an article in USA Today in regard, stating that these collars are being linked to possible kidney and heart disease; I have not found the link to that article today but, I did find a more recent news article about how certain lawmakers are asking that these collars be recalled. There have been reported incidents in the thousands as regards these collars so, please, proceed with caution if you are using them for your pets. I have included the link below so you may read it for yourselves. My then-vet suggested the kidney and heart failure was simply due to their age. Granted, Pearl was 16 when she passed; Kirby and Rosco both estimated at 12-13 years’ of age. Priscilla, however, was only 7, a bit too young, in my opinion and experience, to be struck with organ failure. No sign of illness in any of them prior to these sudden downturns…and I do mean sudden. Rosco had been playing with me like a young kitten just 3 days’ earlier when all of a sudden, he just stopped eating and started shutting down. We have since found a new vet as the “old” one refused to take my concerns seriously when I voiced them to him. I may be wrong about the collars but, it seems, I am not alone in my concerns with them.

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/seresto-flea-collar-recall-pet-deaths/

Kirby; the best ones are the ones who choose you (sigh!)

In addition to these memorials, I think it is safe to say that 2021 was even more challenging than 2020. I’ve alienated a lot of friends due to my stance as regards mandating getting jabbed with something that neither protects one from contracting an illness, nor prevents one from spreading it. I’ve been a Democrat all of my life; I am seriously considering at least becoming “unaffiliated” as I cannot abide the hate and vitriol being spewed about by others of the party. The fear-mongering by mainstream media; the attempts to force us into a police, or authoritarian state; the lack of respect for others who do not share the same views have left a bitter taste in my mouth. I actually owe President Trump an apology for being so anti-Trump during his tenure. While he will never be a favorite of mine, yeah, it really was a witch hunt…one, I am ashamed to say, I contributed to widely on social media.

I don’t know what this new year will bring. The media continues to cry for the arrest, ostracism, and abuse of those who either cannot, or will not, take their (in my opinion) poison**. Gasoline is up to $3.60 per gallon here in New England for regular unleaded; I’m sure it will rise even higher as we approach summer. Empty shelves grace the local Walmart and grocery stores, and there’s sticker shock when you do find what you’re looking for. On a more personal note, while foreclosure is still eminent here at The Herbal Hare, I find myself even more committed to homesteading, and now prepping, than ever before. I cannot help but think a collapse of some sort is eminent. I pray I am wrong, but it doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing. Perhaps you’re all thinking, there goes another whacked out conspiracy theorist. But, maybe, just maybe, there’s something to those conspiracies. (No, I don’t think little green men are injecting tracking devices under our skin, but I do see changes in government, in our society, that make me think I may have to carry around special papers proclaiming myself “free” (passport anyone?), or don a special band marking me as some sort of enemy (face masks?))

However, I am committed to building a community of like-minded people, too. None of us are islands unto ourselves; we need community. Perhaps the word I’m looking for this year is “tribe”. Regardless of whether or not you agree with me on a social or political level, when all is said and done, this year I feel it is especially important to at least be kind to one another. We are all struggling during this turmoil. And our tribe, or family, is who we choose to care for.

But this is all just what I think. I invite you to share, whether you agree or not, in the comments below. I do ask that you be respectful of others, and of this blog, by refraining from profanity, name-calling, bullying or belittling; again, we are all one family, each a very special part of the body of Christ, none of us whole without the other. That being said, regardless of what you believe (or not!); how you look; who you love; socioeconomic status, or current “jab” status, all are welcome…to this blog, to this community, in my home and in my heart. We got through 2021 together, we can get through 2022 as well…and, hopefully, come out the backside of it in a much better place than we are going in.

Wishing everyone much love, much hope, peace, prosperity and, above all, a deep and abiding faith for the New Year! May God bless you & keep you!

**A note: though my opinion leans towards choice when it comes to matters of health, to everyone who has been *poked*, please know that I respect your choice to do so. It is your body and you have to do what is best for you and yours. I am not “anti” pokes; I am anti mandating personal autonomy. For everyone obsessed with forcing others to do as you do, stop for one moment, please, and think how you would feel if suddenly a mandate was issued that said you were no longer *allowed* to get poked, even though you feel in your heart it is the right thing to do for you and yours.

Again, may God bless you & keep you! Stay safe & stay free!

Appreciation, Bereavement, Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Compassion, Culture, Diversity, Faith, Family, Friendship, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Grief, Healing, History, Love, Memories, Nostalgia, Politics, Prayer, Religion, Scripture, Understanding

Remembering 09/11/2001

Lisa Burbank

“The path of the godly leads away from evil; he who follows that path is safe” (Proverbs 16:17)

I had just come back from the company cafeteria with a cup of tea when a co-worker hollered over the foam-filled cubicle wall, “Oh, my God! Did you see that?” And then a cacophony of voices asking, “What?” “Yes, OMG!” “Holy crap…my sister/mother/brother just texted me; look at this!” “What happened?” and “This can’t be real.”

And, yet, it was.

As the images scrolled across every screen in our corporate facility, I remember glancing at the plate-glass window behind me and trying to imagine what it would be like to see a large commercial airplane heading straight for me. Granted, I was on the ground floor and our facility sprawled rather than rising up to touch the skyline but, at that point, I believed anything could happen. I thought of the family and friends those people would never see again…because, in that instance, you would know there was no escape.

Glancing at the clock on the PC, I picked up my extension (I wouldn’t join the ranks of cellphone users for many years to come), and called my parents’ house in Warwick. I knew they weren’t flying anywhere but, you know, you couldn’t help but check-in with all of your loved ones at a time like this. Every other extension was lit up with the same type of phone calls. Nobody was working on September 11, 2001…outside of first responders and hospital personnel. And, as news footage rolled, janitors, cafeteria workers, assemblers, accountants, executives and technical engineers stood shoulder-to-shoulder to watch in horror.

Mom wasn’t up yet. My stepfather had just awakened, poured a cup of coffee and turned on the TV. His two-plus-packs-a-day-early-morning-gravel declared, “It looks like something out of a Sci-Fi film”. As he could likely quote dialog from Star Trek, I agreed with this assessment. I still had that feeling of otherworldliness myself; it would not wear off for some time. For me, it was more like Freddy Kruger meets Godzilla, or something equally as fantastical and unbelievable.

My stepfather woke my mother up. It felt good just to hear their voices as I watched new footage rolling of people trapped in the upper floors of the Twin Towers jumping to their deaths.

Suddenly, my Mom mentioned a new neighbor of theirs who had sat outside with them a few nights’ earlier, showing off a new tattoo. She remembered it depicted an airplane flying into a pair of towers…

They hung up to call the local police station.

Nobody ever responded, took them seriously…even after they discovered only hours later that the couple had moved out in the middle of the night on September 10th.

Later, as the list of casualties scrolled across every news outlet feed, I learned that Mom had an old high school friend on board one of the planes. Carol was en route to her daughter’s wedding. I can’t imagine her last thoughts…or that of her daughter on what should have been a day filled with joy, not sorrow. And, as my mother’s side of the family is mostly police officers, I couldn’t help but grieve for those who lost their lives trying to save others, while also admiring the bravery that every emergency worker displayed as they rushed in, heedless of their own safety.

Of course, with the renewed sense of patriotism after these attacks, and the pretty much unanimous approval for our commander-in-chief to invade the Middle East, came a great fear in the hearts of many for anyone of Middle Eastern heritage. Or anyone just sporting a head covering of some sort. Memes spread via email hating on anyone Muslim or Middle Eastern…or both. I understood the fear behind it but, when one such meme surfaced quoting passages from the Quran, I decided to risk some censure. The quote and the book didn’t even exist in the Quran (and forgive my faulty memory for not remembering the fake quote from 20 years’ ago). Though I am Christian, I have a copy of the Quran in my home and have read it cover-to-cover. I double checked and then copied down text from the numbered passage the meme claimed as “gospel”.

Yup. I got reamed. Family, friends…was I crazy?

No. Just trying to do what I thought Jesus would do: counter the lie with the truth…and stop the persecution of innocent people. While all members of Al Qaeda and the Taliban identify as Muslim, not every Muslim is a member of Al Qaeda or the Taliban. It’s like members of the Ku Klux Klan claiming to be Christian, but not every Christian is a member of the KKK. Both are fringe extremists of their respective religions and cultures.

I was called un-American for pointing out the error in the aforementioned meme. I had a brother deployed to the Middle East right after 9/11. Of course, I was worried sick over his safety, and that of his brothers- and sisters-in-arms. Of course, I supported (and still support) our troops, our police officers, firefighters, EMT’s and other emergency workers.

And I always will.

As I sit here remembering 09/11/2001, my heart grieves for Every. Single. Life lost in this terrorist attack. I grieve and pray for all of the unsuspecting executives and office workers, maintenance and food preppers, blue color and white color, who went to work that morning never realizing what that day would bring…or the ultimate sacrifice they would have to make. I pray for the passengers and crew aboard each airline. I pray for the emergency workers and first responders who gave so selflessly. I pray for the lives lost over the last 20 years due to the myriad pollutants inhaled during and after the attack. I pray for all of our soldiers, many who also gave the ultimate sacrifice to defend our country, and for those who came back less than whole with limbs missing, sight and/or hearing destroyed, suffering from PTSD and, like so many of our vets from Vietnam, found themselves homeless upon their return to the U.S. (we can do better than this America…). And, yes, I also pray for those caught in a cycle of hate for their heritage and/or beliefs since this attack, whether Muslim or Sikh or any other individual mistaken and mistrusted for something they had no more control over than any other American.

Twenty years…

The children of the soldiers deployed in 2001 are now old enough to be soldiers themselves. 13 of them died as our current administration finally pulled out of Afghanistan. Yes, it was time and past for this war to end.

More criticism: I’ve been told I have no idea how hard it is to pull a whole army out of a country like that and I shouldn’t judge…even though thousands of American citizens and Afghan allies were left behind. I should focus on the, I believe the number is over 120,000, people that were rescued. Focus on the positive; this has never been done before (yeah, there’s an echo chamber here from the previous administration…). Those left behind are essentially hostages now. And, no, I really don’t know how hard it is to pull out of a country like that. But my brother could’ve been one of those 13. And I believe my critics are missing the point completely as we all mourn the loss of who I pray will finally be the last of those lost since 9/11 and the seemingly endless war that has followed in its wake.

May God bless you & keep you!

And may we never forget: 09/11/2001 – 09/11/2021

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Ramadan Mubarak to All of My Muslim Brothers and Sisters

Lisa Burbank

“I will raise them up a prophet from among their brethren, like unto thee; and I will put My words in his mouth, and he shall speak unto them all that I shall command him” (Deuteronomy 18:18)

As I watch the sky pale from outside my home office window, enjoying a cup of my favorite Chai tea, I cannot help but say a prayer for my Muslim friends who, by now, have finished sohour and will not eat or drink–even water–until after sundown this evening. This second meal of the day during Ramadan is called iftar and often begins with dates and/or sweet drinks. These give Muslims, who have been fasting since before sunrise, a boost.

Sohour is the meal that Muslims eat together in the earliest hours of morning–or perhaps latest hours of night, as some may view it–before the sun rises. Families awaken super early to share this meal, something I cannot even imagine. I struggled–and failed miserably–to give up only sweets/sugar during Lent. Abstaining from all sustenance from sunrise to sunset elicits a slight shudder; I am the proverbial bear when I don’t eat. Which also leaves me questioning where my own faith lacks. Could I endure such? And, perhaps, “endure” is not the operative word here. According to one source, Muslims are supposed to fast with niyyah, or intention. This means that they must not simply abstain from food but “intend in heart that the fast is meant to be a worship for Allah alone” (Klein, 2021).

I am always amazed at the beauty of traditions that are followed by each religion and/or culture. Though I am born-again Christian, and a practicing Catholic, I have always been intrigued with what others believe and how they worship the God of their consciousness…even to “practicing” some of these traditions myself for short periods of time. Not to make light of such traditions, but because I have always believed that the true way to peace is to learn about each other. And the best way to learn is to submerge yourself, as least as much as one is comfortable, in that culture, tradition, religion, and/or language.

Case in point: I studied at the Rhode Island School for the Deaf for several semesters. After the first couple of weeks of introduction with a hearing/speaking instructor, we were assigned to a Deaf teacher. We learned Sign quickly…if for no other reason then to get our next homework assignment. I learned so well that I found myself reading body language even outside of the classroom…much to the chagrin of an over-eager swain in a local night club one night who laid on the b.s. like peanut butter.

But I digress…

So what is Ramadan?

According to the Encyclopedia Brittanica, it is celebrated, or observed, as the “commemoration of Muhammad’s ‘receipt of the first Qur’anic revelation towards the end of the fasting month of Ramadan’,” (Brittanica, n.d.). Like my own tradition of Lent, it is a time for drawing nearer to God (or so it seems in it’s willing sacrifice for Him). (And, I hope, if there is any error here, that any Muslim brethren reading this will post a comment below to enlighten us further (smile)).

That being said, Ramadan Mubarak to all of my Muslim brothers and sisters.

And, to all of my brothers and sisters of every faith and tradition, no matter your calling, or beliefs, as always, may God bless you & keep you!

REFERENCES

Klein, Allison (2021). “How Ramadan Works.” Howstuffworks. http://www.people.howstuffworks.com/aculture-traditions/holidays-other/ramadan2.htm

Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Creativity, Culture, Diversity, Enlightenment, History, Holidays, Nostalgia

F-F-F-Foolin’

Lisa Burbank

“Wisdom is a fountain of life to those possessing it, but a fool’s burden is his folly.” (Proverbs 16:22)

I’ve dedicated some time to learning more about holidays from other cultures and/or religions. I’ve explored Wiccan and Pagan traditions, Judaism, Muslim, Native American and Hindu festivals. However, I’ve neglected the “holiday” we celebrate today: April Fool’s Day!

Holiday is in quotation marks because I don’t know of a single country, municipality, or corporation that gives April Fool’s Day as a day off to celebrate or commemorate. Instead, the fun and games are often made manifest on the job or in the school. Most of the time these manifestations are harmless, perhaps even corny in their execution, but sometimes they’re a little more of a, shall we say, nuisance?

I am reminded of one April Fool’s Day in my early-20’s when a local DJ announced that Bon Jovi was coming to town and tickets were going on sale that morning. My friends and I piled into the car, raced into the downtown area–complete with bursts of road rage towards anyone who got in our way–only to find it was a hoax. Our juvenile selves were quite put out by it. (Ironically, today I couldn’t care less if Bon Jovi was coming to town; how times change!)

Anyway, from what I was able to find yesterday, this holiday actually goes back several centuries and no one is truly certain exactly when or how it was started. However, the general consensus is that April Fool’s came about when we switched from the Julian calendar to the Georgian calendar. April 1st used to be New Year’s Day by that calendar and, for those “fools” who continued to celebrate and wish everyone a “Happy New Year” on April 1st, even years after we rolled calendars, April 1st came to be known as April Fool’s Day. Pranks were then started to “prove” just how foolish and gullible a body was. According to Wikipedia (which, albeit, is not always the most reliable…), in Scotland, the day has traditionally been celebrated by tacking signs on another person’s derriere saying things like “Kick me!” And we always thought Looney Tunes came up with that one on their own.

April Fool’s!

May God bless you & keep you!

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Happy Passover

Lisa Burbank

“Then the Lord said to Moses and Aaron, ‘From now on, this month will be the first and most important month of the Jewish calendar. Annually, on the tenth day of this month (announce this to all the people of Israel) each family shall get a lamb (or, if a family is small, let it share the lamb with another small family in the neighborhood; whether to share in this way depends on the size of the families). This animal shall be a year-old male, either a sheep or a goat, without any defects.

On the evening of the fourteenth day of this month, all these lambs shall be killed, and their blood shall be placed on the two side-frames of the door of every home and on the panel above the door. Use the blood of the lamb eaten in that home. Everyone shall eat roast lamb that night, with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. The meat must not be eaten raw, or boiled, but roasted, including the head, legs, heart, and liver. Don’t eat any of it the next day; if all is not eaten that night, burn what is left.

Eat it with your traveling clothes on, prepared for a long journey, wearing your walking shoes and carrying your walking sticks in your hands; eat it hurriedly. This observance shall be called the Lord’s Passover. For I will pass through the land of Egypt tonight and kill all the oldest sons and firstborn male animals in all the land of Egypt, and execute judgment upon all the gods of Egypt–for I am Jehovah. The blood you have placed on the doorposts will be proof that you obey me, and when I see the blood I will pass over you and I will not destroy your firstborn children when I smite the land of Egypt.

You shall celebrate this event each year (this is a permanent law) to remind you of this fatal night. The celebration shall last seven days. For that entire period you are to eat only bread made without yeast. Anyone who disobeys this rule at any time during the seven days of the celebration shall be excommunicated from Israel. On the first day of the celebration, and again on the seventh day, there will be special religious services for the entire congregation, and no work of any kind may be done on those days except the preparation of food. (Exodus 12: 1-16)

Today’s post has a longer piece of Scripture than post, but as many reading may not know why, or what, is the reason for the Passover celebration for our Jewish brothers and sisters, it seems befitting to add this.

That being said, I’d like to shout out a “Happy Passover” greeting to my Jewish brothers and sisters. May your celebration bring you bright blessings throughout the year!

May God bless you & keep you!

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Falling Behind

Lisa Burbank

“Now as for you, dear brothers, who are waiting for the Lord’s return, be patient, like a farmer who waits until the autumn for his precious harvest to ripen. Yes, be patient. And take courage, for the coming of the Lord is near.” (James 5:7-8)

I missed the First Day of Spring, Ostara, and Nowruz greetings this past Saturday. I missed St. Patrick’s Day, St. Joseph’s Day, Presidents’ Day, Lent, Valentine’s Day, Groundhog’s Day, St. Brigid’s, Candlemas and Imbolc, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day and even New Year’s Day–including the Chinese New Year (2021 is the Year of the Dragon, by the way!). I’m probably missing a few others, too.

As for the usual commitments, I never picked a theme song for the year. However, that being said, in light of all the escalating hate crimes, I think I’m going to keep the collaboration between Mandisa, Kirk Franklin and Tobymac, “We All Bleed the Same,” for another year. It is, sadly, still befitting. And something we should all remember.

Our Asian brothers and sisters are NOT responsible for coronavirus coming to these shores; please stop beating them up or shooting them in their places of business. It is especially heartbreaking to see that it is mostly the elderly, and women, who seem to be the targets of such cowardice.

Our Black brethren deserve to feel the same sense of safety and security walking down the streets as their Caucasian brothers and sisters; ditto for feeling safe in their homes. There’s a reason why we should never forget names like Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery. Our Black brethren also deserve the right to vote…and to have that vote count. If your candidate, whether in the House or Senate, the Presidency, or local government, lost because more people voted this time around than in any other point in history, suppressing that vote is not the answer. Scratching your head until you come up with real solutions to the issues that matter most to Americans should, instead, be your course of action. Your candidate lost because they demonstrated more concern with Party authoritarianism than We, the People they were hired to serve (eh, we’re beyond Party “loyalty” at this point…on both sides of the aisle).

The flip side of one of these pleas is that not every officer in blue is guilty of either racial profiling or brutality; I know quite a few who were just as outraged that George Floyd was not let up from under a knee when he said he couldn’t breathe. There were even some police units that marched with Black Lives Matter protestors this past summer in a show of solidarity.

Every member of the Muslim community is NOT responsible for 9/11, nor do they want to kill everyone who believes differently from them. Instead, our Muslim brethren are typically warm and caring individuals who came to these shores for the same reasons other immigrants came here. Get to know them, lose the fear bred by ignorance.

Yes, the Holocaust really happened and over 6 million of our Jewish brethren lost their lives because of Nazi terrorism and evil. Denying it is a slap in the face. Like our Muslim brethren, Jewish people are also typically warm and caring individuals. Get to know them, lose the fear bred by ignorance.

Our Latinx brothers and sisters are NOT taking your jobs. Neither are they “animals” or “vermin”. Most are hard-working and, again, are coming here for many of the same reasons every other immigrant has come to these shores.

This same litany of ignorance and distrust has been perpetuated against every immigrant who has ever graced these shores since Columbus set foot here back in 1492. The only “thieves” in the mix are the earliest settlers to these United States who called our First Nations’ brothers and sisters “heathens” and “savages”, accused them of being “animals” and “murderers”, forced them off their lands and onto reservations, tried to wipe away every trace of Native American heritage, and sold many to the Caribbean as slaves.

On the issue of slavery, yes, we do have much in the way of reparations to our Black brothers and sisters to give. I have no doubt some of these families would have found their way to these shores like every other immigrant if left to do so freely. However, most did not come here freely. And, because these “immigrants” came here as chattel, even tracing their lineage is more challenging than for any other demographic of people. Like our Jewish brethren who lost so much during the Holocaust, it is a slap in the face to all of the men, women, and children who lost their lives to that “peculiar institution,” and to the myriad hate crimes that have dogged their steps ever since.

Going back to immigration, it hasn’t only been people of color who have experienced hate and violence at the hands of those U.S. citizens who came here before them. In the 1840s, the doors and windows to nearly every business held a sign that said: “Irish need not apply” or “No Irish”. That is until factory owners realized they could hire two young Irish girls for less than they paid the skilled American worker…and fired the latter. I could be wrong, but I believe that was one of the earliest episodes of an immigrant being reportedly “taking our jobs”.

The truth of it all is that our country has progressively become the richer for every wave of immigrants that have come to these shores. Don’t believe me? Take a look at the list of holidays I neglected to celebrate. We have Catholic, Protestant, Muslim and Wiccan holidays listed. Irish, Italian, Black, and Asian celebrations, too. In a couple of weeks it will be Easter (Christian), Passover (Jewish), and Ramadan (Muslim). And Cinco de Mayo is just around the corner.

Where else in the world can you find such diversity? We not only bleed the same, we bleed together when we cannot love our neighbors as ourselves.

May God bless you & keep you!

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Yearnings

Lisa Burbank

“I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of contentment in every situation, whether it be a full stomach or hunger, plenty or want; for I can do everything God asks me to with the help of Christ who gives me the strength and the power” (Philippians 4:12-13)

The above passage from Scripture is almost true for me: No material girl here, but I do know how to live on almost nothing. The last decade or so has taught me well…as did a good portion of my childhood. I don’t need much. In fact, growing up on the lower end of the socioeconomic scale, and being both financially and occupationally challenged in current years, has developed in me a bit of a tightwad. No, I won’t skimp on your birthday or Christmas presents. I will buy you lunch, or tea/coffee, from time to time. I’m extremely frugal but, hopefully, not selfish or stingy. I give what and when I can.

But I perpetually yearn for a simpler life.

If you’ve followed my blog for more than a few months, you know I worked in living history, first as a volunteer for many years, and then as paid staff for a little over a year and a half. My deepest yearnings are for that kind of simpler life in these modern times.

Yup. Maybe I am a few fries short of a Happy Meal. I wouldn’t be the first to over-romanticize an earlier time. But, working in living history, I found a satisfaction in the skills that I learned…and a certain sense of rightness in each of them. Somehow spinning wool on a great wheel, refilling bobbins on a loom tool (smaller spinning wheel designed to load the bobbins for the looms), weaving, braiding straw, cooking and baking on a hearth came naturally to me. Whether this is some sort of ancestral memory, or maybe there is something to reincarnation after all, I don’t know. However, it wasn’t quite so easy for others who learned along with me.

Even the fashions of those earlier days proved to me to be much more comfortable and satisfying than today’s idea of fashion. First of all, the garments were made with natural fibers, which is healthier for us, and for the planet. In those long, full dresses I felt more attractive, more feminine, than in any other attire. So much so that I’ve been perusing websites for similar styles…either purchased ready made (someday when I’m back on my feet, not now that I’m struggling through financial hardship and zoning issues), or for patterns to make myself. There’s a part of me that would love to make several of the work gowns we wore for living history and maybe jazz them up a bit, a modern twist on an antiquated style. And, no, this may not jive with most people’s idea of frugality if I’m talking about purchasing new clothes, but we must wear something on our bodies. Why not something we truly love rather than conforming to modern expectations?

I remember some years’ back writing a post about how satisfying it was to sit down to a meal where the vegetables had been grown completely by my hand in the garden, the bread baked from scratch, the eggs from the chickens I raised, etc. I can’t help thinking that someday it might be just as satisfying to don an outfit that I either grew the cotton or flax, or raised the sheep; sheared/picked, cleaned, dyed, carded, spun, wove, and stitched all by myself. Yes, maybe that is a bit of pride, but I am of the mindset that maybe when we hear that “pride goeth before a fall” it’s not because having pride in one’s appearance, work, or living space will cause us to fall, but that, oftentimes, the only thing left someone has is their pride, and when they lose even that, that’s when they fall…sometimes never to truly get back up again. It’s tough to hold your head up when things are falling apart in your life. And Esther didn’t plead the cause for her people in rags; she dressed to the nine’s. She took pride in her appearance and made a statement. For me, that statement would be to embrace the comfort, simplicity and femininity of a simpler time.

Getting off a soapbox that threatens to get into a discourse on feminism, and going back to one of my beginning statements about yearning for a simpler life, I am referring to the whole reason I started homesteading in the first place. I’m tired of the rat race. I’m tired of killing myself, searching for a 9-to-5 that no longer exists, that will also leave me miserable, with no time to write, create, or work a homestead, and still not pay the most basic of bills. I’m tired of being dependent on the power grid, of our factory farm-to-grocery store food system. I’m tired of synthetic, plastic clothing poisoning our water and soil…and maybe even our bodies; can’t be healthy. I’m tired of all the additives to our foods, the pesticides and herbicides used to grow and preserve our food…and even the genetically-modified organisms that do not resemble food at all. I’m tired of watching species of life disappear, of honey bees struggling to exist. I’m tired of seeing advertisements for prescriptions that cause more maladies than the illnesses, or conditions, they were supposedly developed to alleviate. Our modern day lifestyle, the systems that have been put in place, make us vulnerable to them. This Covid-19 pandemic has shown us that. The power outages following each hurricane, tornado, or other natural disaster have shown us that, too. How many of us have friends or family members, especially the elderly, who start taking one pill for, say, high blood pressure then have to take another pill for bloating, or water retention, and then another as cholesterol skyrockets, etc?

Yeah, a bit of a rant today. I’m beating my head into the wall, preaching to the choir, because there are many things that I cannot change no matter how much I rant and rave, and seek to fight an uphill battle.

That doesn’t mean I give up entirely though.

My dream home has a hearth in the kitchen. It requires a hand-pump to draw water up from the well. It has a spinning wheel and a loom, a loom tool and a few niddy-noddies. It has a dough box for starting bread to rise. And a hand wringer for doing my laundry. It is lit with candles and/or oil lamps, and has a composting toilet if allowed (this last is often prohibited in many towns across the nation). My dream home is small and well-insulated with natural fibers, but sits on land large enough to support a decent-sized herd of goats for both fiber and dairy, sheep, chickens, ducks, honey bees and rabbits. There is a large herb and vegetable garden; a couple of greenhouses and/or hoop houses for year-round growing and for warm-climate spices. My dream home has an agility course because there are Border Collies sharing that home, too. Maybe there’s even a small pond for my ducks and geese, and for paddling a canoe once in awhile, because being on the water is such a great way to relax…even for those of us who cannot swim(!).

The yearning for such a life comes about as I navigate through this zoning and foreclosure nightmare I’ve been swimming through for too long now, always circling back to it just when I think I’ve finally got it licked. It’s where I go to escape, or better yet, to manifest? I know much of this is beyond me as building codes require certain regulations to be met, but to the extent I can get away with and still remain within the law, this is where I hope to go.

For too long now, a peaceful, simple, fairly self-sufficient life has been a dream only. I’m tired of the rat race. It’s time to live the life I was meant to live, a life lived with intention. And I pray the same thing for each and every soul reading this post…no matter how different your intentional life is from mine.

May God bless you & keep you!