It's sad, really. The whole dying thing. Not sad like boohoo sad. Sad like, "Paddy was a good old lad and will surely be missed. Next round's on me." Gettin' out there kinda sad. And as the drinks are waiter'ed out, everyone passes the hat and folks be pledging their support for family left without.

And the tears flow, because everyone knows.

It's a celebratory kind of sadness at best, and generally accompanied by a few good swift kicks to the arse of old lord Yama. He can take as well as dish it out, so why not Shout.

We protest, this ridiculous mortality game. We will no longer play by the "rules". We will invent RULES of our own, and by the force of Sheer Belief alone, overcome the illusion of your nasty persistent Schtick. You have made us wish for death. You sly devil, you.

How, you might ask do we muster the Sheer Belief to turn asunder that which has reigned unchallenged, for eon upon eon upon eon?

Only the creation of the Sheer Belief Force (S.B.F.) can produce a measure of inertia necessary to slow the deadly march and allow people to see the illusion. See the trick that's being played and played again and again.The dance macabre.

And the tears flow, because everyone knows.

Ninety minutes a day exposure to oxygen in a hyperbaric chamber restores genetic mechanisms to a youthful state in three months time.

We don't know what we know, yet.

We have passed the nadir and begin to gather light. The ritual of New Year celebrates our deepest intuitive connection to sunlight. This unending renewal is the one abiding hope that all living things carry forward with epigenetic certainty as to outcome. Life overcoming Death merging with Life

This, of course is philosophical quicksand, but the urge continues to compel us to discover what magic is in sunlight that allows its daily infusion to re-create, from a dream, our shared and disparate realities.

All manner of terrestrial plant life and cyanobacteria in oceans and lakes combine with sunlight to form the basis of most life on earth. Photosynthesis is the merging of sunlight, water and carbon dioxide to produce glucose for plant growth and oxygen for us to exist. This is not some bunny out of a hat. This here is True magic.

Increasing deforestation and decreasing pH levels in oceans and lakes has led to a steadily diminishing supply of oxygen globally. Hypoxia  is the condition of oxygen starvation, whose symptoms include anxiety, confusion, headaches, irritability and inattentiveness. Know anybody like that? What was the question?

An annual ritual here at the Rancho is consulting the I Ching for a forecast of the coming year. So, as the coins warmed between my palms, my mind drifted, then settled. The toss built the hexagram #12: Standstill (stagnation), depicting a situation in which heaven and earth move away from each other. There were no change lines, indicating a condition persisting throughout the year. "Heaven and earth are out of communion and all things are benumbed." Sounds about right.

Ever since quitting social media (instafacetwit, amagoobook and such), human connections have, like worn out neural networks, simply dissolved into silence, leaving open spaces to be filled. Since life on the farm is largely lived in silence, inner space just keeps deepening to include more and more of what the sensory world has to share. This suits the life of a dyed in the wool Permaculture Geek. Observation is the key to functional design.

We are creating the Union of Permageeks International (U.P.I.), to ensure solidarity in the coming times. We are taking applications from members of the animal, vegetable and mineral kingdoms. We encourage the union of wing and hoof, crystal and koi, head and heart. And in concert with the S.B.F., we will send the forces of entropy, including hubris, greed, psychopathy and Chuckie Cheese, into whimpering retreat.

For your U.P.I.S.B.F. membership packet, simply send a stamped, self addressed used Amazon box to the address listed below. Include seven dollars (cash or bitcoin) for shipping, handling, fees, services and my bungalow in Belize.

Your packet will include a thank you note from our founder (Swami Permananda), a crocheted insignia badge with iron on sticky stuff, good for hoodies, torn jeans, backpacks and beer coolers. You will also receive a booklet of talking points designed to give you a leg up when the feeling of being in over your head wells up.

So, for example if someone asks, "what is a Permageek, exactly?", you will be choc-a-block with thumbnail sketches that will dazzle and prompt amazement. From there on out its just spitballin'. Use the word Permaculture alot, and soon small elves and fairy's will peekaboo appear. Have a gas.

My resolution? To rest content with the notion that I will never be entirely fluent in Estrogenese. Try as I have, it is a language both illusive and compelling. A logic both disturbing and googoomahmah. Pretty convinced the blockage lies somewhere buried in my experience of childhood in Testosteronia. I do, however love it when girls refer to each other as Dude. Kinda says it all.

The sweet earth swells as the Sun kvells and kvells and........have a reasonably stable, minimally psychotic, virally shielded, self isolated, socially distanced new year, and try not to shit too close to the fan.

The more you show, the more we'll grow. Peace? Jp