by nielskunze on August 27, 2014
There’s something on the horizon; you can see it written in the sky.
The past week in the Forest has been quiet. It hasn’t been an eery silence at all; rather, it’s been the kind of silence like when you’re watching a movie with the kids and they keep whispering “What’s going on?” and you just raise your finger to your lips… ’cause you know that everything will become clear in a moment. “Just watch.”
For a month or more, daily interactions with the various raptors had become the norm. Hawk, Eagle, Osprey and even Owl were inserting themselves into these Reports, bespeaking a new alliance… and fierce progress.
As I remarked to friends, there was one who was conspicuously absent for quite some time though. And yesterday he showed up.
(Buzzard by Armageddon from their self-titled 1975 album– edited for time constraints and selected for obvious reasons: name of the song as well as of the band)
In yesterday’s Oracle Report, the phrase ‘the road less traveled’ was mentioned a couple of times. And here I have to give the dogs full credit of discovery. At a point nearing the end of our regular walk, there’s a fork in the road where we almost always take the high road. This time, all three dogs were insistent that we take the lower road back down to the river, and rather than call them back, I just followed.
It’s a place where the river lies down below a steep embankment of twenty or thirty feet. As soon as I arrived on the scene trailing the dogs, a massive turkey vulture flew up from beneath the embankment. It was one of several– the largest, whose wingspan was easily greater than mine!
I’ve always looked upon Turkey Vulture as an excellent omen– despite his frightening appearance! He is the most silent, the most impressive and the most graceful flier of all the raptors.
He is well adapted to his task of cleaning up the rotting remains of the dead and dying. His featherless head– looking very much like a chaffed and raw elbow with eyes and nostrils– is perfectly suited to thrusting deep inside even the foulest corpse… in order to claim and recycle the very tastiest bits.
Turkey Vulture is the keeper of the New Vision for the Earth. Last summer he spiralled high in the sky frequently, drawing our imaginations upwards. Then he left for a time so that we could get things in order here at the surface. Well, the buzzard has landed. The cleanup begins in earnest.
The consensus– with which Turkey Vulture concurs– is that the Controllers– those who would rule through fear and mayhem– are in the process of self-destruction. “Just give them enough rope, and they will quietly hang themselves.” Their desperate acts are seen for what they are– pathetic attempts at mass manipulation, but they receive very little traction anymore.
The public is slow to learn, but what has been undeniably demonstrated again and again is that violence solves nothing. Humanity is hungry for new solutions… for the same-old, same-old has proven tedious and well, idiotic.
The despots are still running rampant, but the vultures are circling. By their own actions, their time is coming to a rapid close. Further acts of desperation are still likely, but they will only frighten and confuse the sleepiest of the hypnotized masses. Their clumsy machinations will lie exposed in a heap of unrelenting questions… and then the stinking, rotting corpse will be dismembered… to become just so much buzzard poo.
by nielskunze on August 25, 2014
A little bit of Reality 101…
(Meaning and the Moment by Echolyn from their 3-CD set A Little Nonsense 1989-2000)
Changing of seasons… changing of worlds…
I still find the occasional raspberry, but the season is pretty much done. The high bush cranberries are gone now too… but I did manage to find about ten times more of them this year over last. If next year we can have a tenfold increase again… then I can capture them in a brew.
The puffballs are back now that the rains have returned.
They’re not very big, but they’re tasty enough.
Now it’s choke cherries and rose hips. The choke cherries are quite popular among the birds, so there’s fierce competition as they come into full ripeness, losing all bitterness and astringency. The rose hips are fat and abundant… and so far they seem devoid of the maggoty things from last year. No extra protein for me… oh well!
Dragonfly’s iridescence is a trick of the light; the dualistic nature of reality is likewise a trick of the light.
“Consciousness is singular, seamless and the full creator of the show. Ego was created to hide the moment-to-moment magic of your ongoing creational abilities. It all comes from you as you entangle with the quantum field… but you can’t see it… because you strongly identify with ego.
“Ego is a lens through which the portion of Reality you are currently prepared to work with is focused (‘created’). The ‘reality’ of your world of experience presents itself as a mystery to be solved. As you solve it, you detach from your identification with ego.
“In duality– the realm created by the false separation of ego from the conscious totality– your thinking presents questions to which experience provides answers. The ‘answers’ reside in the undifferentiated consciousness– the seamless inner totality… but they are not ‘answers’ as such until ego poses the question.
“Consciousness contains all that is. Whatever is, exists in consciousness… is consciousness. You find the continual need to question (the basis for linear time) because you have lost touch (identification) with your own totality. The lens of ego poses questions as you redefine Reality in dualistic terms– an exercise you chose.
“It seems inordinately complex. It is simple. All the answers you seek are exactly what you are… have always been. You carry it all inside yourself every moment… and project it outwards in various time streams. You are unaware of the projection… and that is forever your own blameless choice.”
Um, thanks Dragonfly. Might need to read than one over a couple more times!
by nielskunze on August 23, 2014
The Forest has been in ‘No comment’ mode for two days now… and I think I know why.
(Merlin of the High Places by Happy the Man released on their 1999 album Death’s Crown, although the songs were recorded much earlier during rehearsals on fairly primitive equipment– not bad!)
There’s still too many people running around with their hair on fire. Stop! Drop and roll… a joint or something, and try to keep calm.
Yesterday I was conflicted. I had this whole piece worked out about tuning out the mainstream media– and we’ll still get to that in a moment– but then I made the ‘mistake’ of watching the James Foley beheading video. Suddenly I wanted everyone to see that video. It’s bizarre and confusing, and raises a great many questions… and yet the popular media refuses to ask any of those questions. The talking heads just continue to lap it all up and flash their best shit-eating grins… “Hey mate, you’ve got a piece of undigested corn stuck in your teeth!”
So yesterday I indulged my questioning nature by framing a comedy piece about the video called The Beheading of Western Journalism. Yes, a comedy piece… about a beheading. Like the proverbial cheese, it stands alone.
The magical life we yearn for resides in the high places.
I’m not talking about mountaintops; I’m talking vibration. Feelings that are uplifting bring us to the high places. Feelings of a low vibratory nature keep us attached to the mundane merry-go-round.
So put down the remote and back away. There’s this pervasive idea in our culture that being informed about every tragedy and atrocity occurring around the world somehow ennobles us. Pure and utter bullshit! May I suggest that we read as many headlines as we wish each day, but only in the instances where we feel that there is a good probability that there is some positive action we ourselves can take to affect the news items we read about, do we then mine the articles for details. Filling our heads with horror stories about which we intend to do absolutely nothing is a grave disservice to ourselves and the world. By doing so, we encourage our prolonged impotence.
Think globally; act locally. We can only take effective action within our own sphere of influence. Having opinions about things that have absolutely no bearing on our lives is wasteful, distracting and ultimately disempowering. We need to stop it. I keep seeing people losing their shit over stuff that has no bearing on their own lives, and they get utterly lost in the immobility of fear. Stop it! Wise up!
The Forest is fat and ready… and it can’t come down to our fearful level. We need to follow the ‘Merlin within’ to the high places… even if it looks like a monkey in a squirrel suit!
by nielskunze on August 23, 2014
Warning: What follows is in very bad taste… But then what inspired it was even worse!
“Is this a joke?”
I keep picturing Nigel seated before a mirror in the Spinal Tap dressing room, picking through the remains of a catered tray of hors d’oeuvres.
“Is this a joke? I mean, look…” he says, fingering a green olive. “There’s a little guy in there,” pointing to the pimento, and then indicating another olive which lacks a similar ‘little guy.’ With an exasperated shrug he finally declares “It’s a complete catastrophe!”
I remember when Spinal Tap came out how many people thought it was a real documentary about a real band! Let’s use a little common sense, people.
Common sense? Sorry mate; we’re fresh out.
I’ve never watched a beheading before. And now that I’ve viewed the recent James Foley video, I’m pretty sure that I still haven’t. Okay, actually, I’m quite sure that I haven’t… because the video doesn’t include that part– the actual beheading. It’s implied.
You gotta love a terrorist who is considerate enough to leave out the terrifying bits!
Normally, I wouldn’t ever consider watching this type of video, but I kept encountering comments and articles claiming the whole thing was fake. And then the UK police declared that even viewing the video may be construed as a crime under terrorism legislation. Now that’s gotta pique anyone’s curiosity! (“We’ve got this video that totally justifies severe military intervention… but we’d much prefer that nobody views it. Please…?”)
Although the video is conceptually gruesome, having viewed it, I would give it a PG-13 rating… and most 13-year-old boys– and even a few of the girls– would likely brand it as “Lame.” It’s not gory. It’s not frightening. It’s… it’s… perplexing.
Immediately after viewing it, my first thought was: Really? Is this really the video causing all the hubbub? Surely this is just one of those really bad Saturday Night Live sketches whose humor is tragically elusive. (We’ve all seen a few of those, no?) Seriously though, I really did wonder if I had viewed the correct video. Videos from terrorists you expect to be, well, terrifying. This was just bizarre.
The whole thing was shot in HD… because you know that all serious jihadists have money to burn on expensive cameras. The microphone clipped to Mr. Foley’s chest was also top notch, very professional, excellent audio. They also employed multiple camera angles and some very slick editing in order to include footage of Obama’s recent address about the whole situation. Production quality was obviously a high priority among these particular bloodthirsty savages.
Just from the accompanying stills– in news articles– lifted from the footage, you can see the immaculate state of the ‘captive’ James Foley. He’s been missing since 2012. As a prisoner of radical fanatics for the past two years, he manages to look good enough to make the cover of GQ. Remarkable! He looks well-nourished, no bruises or cuts on his face, not even a pimple. His beard looks neat and trimmed; head shaven, but tastefully so. The orange jumpsuit he’s wearing has nary a stain nor even a wrinkle… as though they just got it back from the dry-cleaners that morning.
And then there’s the speech he delivers. Okay, granted, he’s a trained journalist; he’s used to being in front of a camera delivering his lines. He shouldn’t be nervous in that regard. But what about the tall ninja beside him with the lovely British accent brandishing a knife? Foley doesn’t speak like a man about to have his head savagely hacked off. Perhaps he didn’t know…? Maybe they told him “Just read what it says on the teleprompter and afterwards we’ll have a nice picnic.” Seems legit.
His body doesn’t tremble. There’s no tremor in his voice. Not a single bead of sweat anticipates his doom– despite being filmed in the sunny desert… in August. (I think some of those HD cameras come with built-in air conditioning.) He delivers his lines nearly perfectly. There is a moment where he pauses ever so briefly, and swallows, and maybe there’s just the faintest shadow of a hint of fear… but it’s the kind of fear that accompanies the thought: I hope they didn’t bring that overly sweet chardonnay; it’ll pair dreadfully with the crab cakes! All in all, his demeanor speaks volumes. It says: “Pah! Beheadings… I’ve had dozens of them. It’s a dawdle.” Picnic or beheading? Which is it? Either way, Foley doesn’t seem overly concerned.
I’m trying to convey the deep empathy I feel for this man. I mean, can you imagine… a sweet chardonnay with crab cakes! Really!
The tall Londoner dressed as a ninja delivers a bit of his own blah blah before the grand finale. He looks to the camera as if to say “You see what happens…?” Well, actually, no I don’t see what happens; I’m completely left to infer it on my own. And I’m choosing picnic– despite the alleged catastrophe with the chardonnay.
He then, standing behind Foley, begins to saw back and forth across his victim’s neck before it quickly fades to black. The knife is drawn twice, possibly thee times, across Foley’s neck just beneath the jaw. No cut is visible, no spurting blood. Maybe some beheadings of live victims involve much less blood than others; I’m certainly no expert on beheadings, but hollywood has consistently led me to believe that when you cut through the jugular vein and carotid artery there’s likely to be some spurting… and a fair bit of blood spilled overall.
Oh, here’s a thought! Perhaps the blood only spurts if and when the victim struggles. Foley, you see, doesn’t offer any resistance. He even manages to quell any natural instinctive response of defending oneself while someone attempts to liberate your head from your neck. How incredibly zen of him!
And no, there’s no screaming– not from the victim, not from the perpetrator(s). I was at least expecting a few token allahu akbars. This is a jihad after all. Ah well, maybe even deranged fanatics occasionally forget why exactly they’re doing what they’re doing. Allah forgives them, I’m sure.
Then there is a still picture which finishes off the video. I’ve created similarly convincing scenes for halloween with a scarecrow and a pumpkin, a little makeup, a little ‘blood.’ It depicts a headless body lying on the ground with its head propped on top of the torso. Strangely the neck is missing. From the last moving pictures from the video we saw that the head was allegedly being severed right beneath the jawline, very high up on the neck. The headless corpse in the final frame however has no neck whatsoever. Perhaps the cameraman called dibs on the neck…? Crab cakes be damned!
What’s that? I’m being insensitive? Nonsense! I’m confident that I’m treating this video with all the respect it deserves. But I’d really like for you to decide that for yourself. Oh shit, now I’m a terrorist for sure!
by nielskunze on August 21, 2014
(G-Spot Tornado composed by Frank Zappa on the synclavier and first released on his 1986 album Jazz from Hell when it was still considered beyond human ability to perform. This version is humanly performed by Ensemble Modern from the Zappa tribute album from 1993 The Yellow Shark… shortly before Frank’s death.)
The caterpillar harbours no pretensions about butterflies as he enters fat and naked into his cocoon.
Below the level of our conscious awareness, we are already thoroughly entangled. That is our root nature– and the foundation of ‘the world.’
As ‘the veil’ is being scrunched and ultimately lifted, sometimes it feels as though it’s pressing in upon us… smothering… like reality is getting smaller, being squished together… crowded.
Modern evolutionary theory (Ilya Prigogine) tells us that open physical systems that are able to successfully shunt entropy ‘outside’ will, at the moment of maximum chaos, either self-organize into a new order of complexity or collapse in total disarray. That is called the bifurcation point… the moment of truth.
I keep thinking that surely we’re at the point of maximum chaos… only to see further breakdowns in systems, social orders and personal lives continue. We’re truly being stripped bare… but for very good purpose.
We can’t build the new order of complexity while we still rely on external props of false power and false authority (entropy). The basic unit of a functional (healthy) society is a functional, healthy, sovereign individual. Our external illusions keep us from experiencing ourselves in such a manner. Fat bank accounts, social prestige, elite privilege and the likes are the very hinderances to a healthy society– or truly functional individuals.
We, ourselves, are the lowest common denominator– exactly equal when the fictitious external props are dismantled. We are the lowest in that we are the foundation of the reality we experience; and we are the highest in potential when we surrender to the inevitable nakedness demanded.
Each day as I stop by the Hugging Tree, my heart feels like it will burst in celebration each time I embrace simplicity. The trees don’t give a polite flying fuck who you are– whether the president of a country, or a fat CEO, or Aunt Martha’s favourite nephew– only that you have a heart… that you are a heart… only.
by nielskunze on August 20, 2014
(Blue and Sand by Echolyn from their 3-CD set A Little Nonsense 1989-2000)
The smoke was replaced overnight with rain clouds!
Sometimes we can only see what’s right in front of us… and then, sometimes even that can be difficult.
It’s still pretty easy to get caught up in the notion that ‘some things will never change.’ That’s where a momentary change of perspective makes all the difference. And, I should point out, that a ten-hour drive across the Canadian prairies affords one ample time for mulling things over! Here’s one spicy, mulled thought:
As I met a great number of new people and had occasion to engage them in conversation, I made an observation that was new… at least to me. So many young people– mostly in their twenties– each had so many exciting tales of adventure and travel. It was quite clear that despite their tender ages, they had already lived.
Souls have long taken interest in Earth because of the unique and varied experiences that can be gleaned here. It is through experience that soul-growth occurs. In this moment of time– the end of an era– an individual can gain more varied experience in just one lifetime than it may have taken a hundred or more lifetimes to obtain previously. And it seems quite normal to do so. The pace of evolution– in terms of gaining experience– has accelerated exponentially in the last while… and it’s still accelerating.
Due to the acceleration– which is pretty undeniable– it’s logical to conclude that we are indeed at the end of an evolutionary era. With more than seven billion human participants, each having access to a very wide-ranging experience in this lifetime, we are certainly, collectively, exhausting the possibilities within the current ‘game’ parameters. We need a different game… or we’ll be uselessly spinning our wheels over the same old ground while our souls lose interest altogether.
In a conscious universe, the change is inevitable. But still I wonder… does the slow apocalypse really have to be this slow? Well, I have my assurances, and in the meantime I’ll just try to enjoy the rain!
by nielskunze on August 19, 2014
(Suffocating the Bloom by Echolyn, title track from their 1992 album)
There are still those who would suffocate the bloom of the light come to shine anew. I know; it’s interminable, right? When will imminence finally burst upon the scene undeniably?
The rain was still sparse during the days we were away. And fires still rage around us as our valley fills again with smoke… making for gorgeous sunsets, though! (The above pic was taken from my deck, not the usual from the Forest on the western side of the valley.)
Upon our return from the prairies– the endless prairies– we were greeted by Moose. We had made a little detour very close to home in order to pick up a friend. Upon the paved goat trail that is the Panorama road, on the way down we encountered two young moose standing on the road. They looked very much like brother and sister, as one was a fair bit larger than the other, but both were definitely still yearlings.
Traditionally, Moose is considered an avatar of the Divine Feminine. However, many modern shamans consider moose energy as predominantly male. Having both youngsters present themselves without adult supervision seems to speak to the infancy of a new unfoldment in our reality involving a tenuous gender balance. (Sorry for the lack of a pic. It was already fully dark, and the camera was in the trunk of the car.)
For our return to the Forest the following morning– after a five-day absence– we were joined by a fourth canine member, Lhasa’s brother Snoopy.
The skunk smell still lingered around Lhasa from the previous week, as did our memory of the poor squirrel who lost his life in a moment of indiscretion. Skunk’s demeanour is calm and gentle, though his stench is not! He urges us to do no harm… or else face the dire consequences. It’s do-or-die time!
A re-enactment was granted, but this time with Rabbit– the representative of New Life, instead of Squirrel– the nervous Nelly of preparedness. Sitka had ventured into the forest underbrush to flush out a rabbit once again. She expertly drove it toward where the other three dogs and me were waiting to see what all the commotion was about. As serendipity would have it, the poor rabbit ran straight into the arms of a waiting Toby. I quickly said “Toby no!” and she calmly stepped aside to let the rabbit past her. Sitka gave Toby a questioning look on the way by, as I heaped praise upon Toby and tried to persuade Sitka to abandon the chase altogether… which she soon did.
Redemption. I was proud of all the dogs. If they had held the collective intent to kill the rabbit, it wouldn’t have stood a chance. Sitka was more into the chase than the killing anyway… and I thought it was good to know that the dogs could probably fair rather well on their own if they had to.
In other news… we are currently in the very last days of raspberry season. The high bush cranberries too are coming to an end, but I managed to harvest about ten times as many this year over last. The choke cherries are just starting to lose their bitterness and astringency, so the competition to feast among the birds and myself commences!
The rain is promising to visit soon again… but I hope it’s a plump, slothful, lingering guest this time, instead of the skinny, flighty bitch who’s only been playing peekaboo.
by nielskunze on August 14, 2014
(Until It Rains by Echolyn from their 3-CD set A Little Nonsense featuring their music from 1989 to 2000)
Have you ever been awoken by a smell? It was around midnight when the unmistakable smell of fresh skunk spray wafted mercilessly through the open window.
Uh-oh, who got sprayed?
It was Lass; she got it full in the face! Fortunately, Lass was Uncle Farfenoodle’s responsibility. She got a midnight bath with tomato juice.
If you look closely, you can still see some orange stains from the tomato juice around her neck. One very positive thing to note about incidents like these is how quickly dogs are able to get over it. By the next day, out in the forest, there was no feeling sorry for herself or even dwelling on the lingering stink. This too shall pass.
It was during this walk the next day that the man still without a yellow hat made the mistake of saying out loud “Nothing smells worse than skunk!”
That’s just the kind of thing that a monkey in a dog suit likes to challenge. Munkie Dunky quickly went about searching out the stinkiest stink she could find… and had a good roll in it! And that earned her an immediate bath in the swamp. “I stand corrected,” said the man from under the brim of a non-existent hat– not yellow or otherwise. Such a shame to nearly ruin a fine dog suit like that, he thought.
Lass and Toblerone had already developed a bit of a rivalry with Munkie Dunky, and when Munkie Dunky took to a new obsession with squirrels, they were right there by her side ready to spring into action.
Those pesky squirrels though were experts at escaping into the upper reaches of trees… and Munkie Dunky couldn’t break character and blow her cover to reveal her true monkey nature, so they three usually stood at the bottom frustrated and panting… until…
Down at the river, they came across a young squirrel who was beyond the safety of tall trees, playing on the beach among the weathered branches of an old log. The three superheroes gave chase, and three of them coming from all sides was too much for the poor squirrel… and he ran right into the mouth of Toblerone!
The man wishing he had a yellow hat asked “What have you got there, Toblerone?” When she laid it at his feet, he said “Oh damn!” And then he was forced to perform a mercy-killing as the prone squirrel was still clinging to life. The hatless man didn’t like that at all!
It must be stated unequivocally that Toblerone is very sweet even though she is not peppered with bits of chewy nougat as her name might suggest. She immediately felt badly about what she had done. As the man with the terribly exposed head buried the now-dead squirrel in a cairn of rocks, she snuck away and looked on guiltily. She was very very sorry.
Squirrels and skunks are very different energies. Squirrel is the epitome of nervous energy while Skunk is calm and self-assured. Their combined message is one of preparedness for a new level of recognition about to burst onto the scene. The Forest has been holding its hot, dry breath for the whole of summer, and now we will be away from the blog until it rains. (We should be back by Monday or Tuesday.)
by nielskunze on August 13, 2014
(The Velveteen Rabbit by Echolyn from their compilation 3-CD set A Little Nonsense featuring their music from 1989 to 2000)
This is one of those songs, though I’ve heard it hundreds of times, it still gives me goosebumps every time I listen! You just can’t go wrong with Echolyn!
X marks the spot. That’s just south from where my house is located… probably just contrails, as streaks in the sky like these aren’t permitted to linger very long. There’s a crew of us keeping the skies pretty clear these days. Now if we could just get some natural cloud cover bringing rain… that would be much appreciated!
Do you remember when the world was just a giant place to play? Now with the supermoon energies easing up, we’re invited back into that childhood disposition.
I know I’ve spoken a lot about Hawk being there everyday to greet us and shout encouragement. Up until now she had been very camera shy, so I finally asked outright if she wouldn’t mind posing for a few pics. There were actually two hawks involved, as they called to each other, figuring out which one was going to do the photoshoot.
This is actually the smaller of the two… though you can tell that she’s still rather formidable perched at the top of this forty-foot tree.
Last night I dreamed of Osprey. A new alliance with the Raptors has been established.
I don’t often write about ETs. That’s because I try to stick to the things that have some grounding in my own experience. Well, recently I learned about a new alliance between an ET race known as the Raptors and the “White Hats” of Earth humans. (This from Earth’s Space Command– a Project Camelot interview.)
Perhaps you’ve noticed that over the past month I have had outrageously frequent encounters with all sorts of raptors. The Raptors are already aligned with the Sasquatch people and the Pleiadians, so my request to enter into the mix seemed only natural. And now that Osprey came into my dreams, I’ll assume that my request has been answered.
And speaking of flying creatures, I knew that these insects that looked vaguely like helicopters– and get nearly as big– were some of the good guys. They like to land on me a lot, and I usually let them ride along for as long as they like. The deep rumble of their buzz while in flight can be a bit daunting though.
Overall, the situation really seems to be shaping up!
by nielskunze on August 12, 2014
(The Trees by Rush from their 1978 album Hemispheres on vinyl)
(This song was chosen for obvious reasons, although I must point out that the lyrics are definitely “old paradigm.” The trees have worked their shit out… and there’s even progress in their talks with Pine Beetle.)
The consensus seems to be that the energy of this super moon was extremely intense. Situations, mindsets, relationships were mercilessly broken down into their constituent parts and are now in the process of being re-evaluated. Things have become unmoored.
If you’re feeling at all adrift, may I suggest that we can all use a hug! I know I’m pushing big time on this new tree-hugging initiative… but I really think that it can be of tremendous service, so do yourself a favour and join in. This is something you can do daily… and no one else even needs to know. It’s just between you and the tree and the thousands of us doing likewise.
By sharing our light intentions in this way, we are establishing a natural energy grid around the planet– a strong one, beyond the archontic influence. It has already built quickly and we’re only four days in!
I’m at the Hugging Tree everyday at about noon MDT… so if you wish to time your hug, go ahead… but the timing isn’t really critical. Anytime is the appropriate time, and anywhere is the appropriate place… trees tend to be almost everywhere. (If you’re in the desert however, careful with that cactus!)
I wish a certain Robin might have gone for a hug during this intense super moon. We’re going to find over and over that connecting with each other is what’s going to alleviate the lingering ills.
Tomorrow the energy promises to dissipate. Hang in there!