I stand at the end of a length of grass choked sidewalk, adjacent the railway avenue of my home town, surveying the the time worn concrete panels I trod as a boy, nearly a half century ago. Nothing moves, nothing sounds, yet my awareness is filled with not mere memories, but rather, “recall”…the sights, the sounds, the smells. And neither is it sad, until it fades, to be replaced with modernity. They call the phenomenon ” Nostalgia”, and define it as “a generic longing for old things & old times”…and I call Bullshit!  The town is home to perhaps 20 people, the post office being the last vague hint of bygone commerce. They burned the beautiful school, destroyed the grain elevators, and closed the wonderful, giant general store/mercantile. The handfull of private businesses died with their founders. Another pandemic, albeit classic, example of the  incomprehensible neurosis labeled “progress”.

  Toward the end of the 1800’s, a war was declared on REALNESS. It would come to initially carry the clever label “industrial revolution”. Essentially, in those days, beyond people actually knowing who they were, they also knew how to do what they did. You had craftsmen/craftswomen at every level, from novice to apprentice, to journeyman. They wrote their own warranties, upheld their own ethics, and advertised through their quality. But they did not need bankers, or corporations, or monopolies. They certainly did not support the modern custom of doing poor work at a cut rate, nor offshore manufacturing. So, the beauracratic, corporate model could not ” progress” ( to monopolization, exploitation, and offshore panacea ). Clearly, the troublesome craftsmen had to go. So a brilliant plan was hatched , in which, a craftsman was studied, and his/her craft was broken down into as many steps as necessary to render each step simplistic. People were then coaxed, and coerced, to perform these simplistic steps individually, and mash all the bits together as best they could. The product was ,of course, a piece of shit, but it fast & cheap, and the work force could now be controlled economically (lent money). And Viola! the (real) American Dream was up and running. For control purposes, it would, of course be cleverly labeled “progress”. However, this chronic shift in “culture”had to be methodically , cleverly sold to the masses…the workers had to be convinced that they were not on the bottom rung of the social ladder. So the ” Prolitarian” label/model was invented…these were supposedly the lowest class of people extant , and clearly lower than the newly labeled “blue collars”. Cursory research, however, will reveal that this fictional class of people did not actually exist, and that the string pullers, power mongers, and self proclaimed “upper class”, in fact, attached the label to the blue collar populace itself.

At “ground level”, there are two parts to a woman or a man…the Heart & the Ego. These aspects are not mere rivals, they are mortal enemies, as nothing fights the heart but the ego…and nothing terrifies the ego more than the heart. They are, in effect, theCEO’s of the duality of man.

…Heart is intuition, Ego is intellect…

…Heart is knowing, Ego is reasoning…

..Heart is respect, Ego is fear…

…Heart is passion, Ego is production…

…Heart is emotion, Ego is drama…

…Heart is co-operation, Ego is competition…

…Heart is inspiration, Ego is motivation…

I trust you get the picture, for doubtless you have lived this picture.  And you may ask, where is Spirit?…Spirit is the grandfather of the heart, it stands with it’s hand on hearts’ shoulder, and is why, ultimately, heart is stronger than ego.

  The point being, that Heart is craftsmen…and Ego is progress…

Part and parcel with the selling of the industrial revolution, came the labels and the illusions…the ‘white collars”, and the “staus-quo”, and the headlong , heartless pursuit of worth through external validation. No longer were you judged by your skill or reliability, you were now judged by the vintage and sheen of your automobile. Fast forward to 2015 and you discover an endless ocean of vanilla sheep, one indiscernible from the next.    My father crossed the Atlantic ocean at the age of 7, arriving in Canada in 1925, arrived in Manitoba just in time for the depression, and subsequently the ww2 scam.   As a boy, every adult I knew was clear about who they were and what they did, they did not require a TV or dumbfone to tell them. My father was a farmer and a lumberman, with his own land and his own sawmill, which he built. Precious few farmers or lumbermen have survived, only moron mouthpieces for chemical conglomerates, and faceless corporations spewing “green” scam dogma. And behind this chronology lies the reason for the dogmatic, indeed, desperate agenda to misconstrue “Nostalgia & Prolitarian”.

And this is why the truth has been desperately, dogmatically hidden….THOSE WHO KNOW THE TRUE NATURE OF “NOSTALGIA & PROLITARIAN” WILL NOT BE LED AS SHEEP…

But I digress, we have illuminated some marvelous ghosts, and they may live again amongst us now, for they are nothing less than the magic that gives our hearts wings,…and HANDS!