The Daily Forest Report July 29, 2015 Getting the Message

by nielskunze on July 29, 2015



I love my mountain home.

I don’t have an answering machine out here, but the messages are still piling up.



Well, at least it’s not brown! All I can say about this one is that it sounded very strange as it passed overhead. When I first heard it in the distance it sounded more like a bunch of quads tearing up the mountain. I’ve never seen this one before. I’ll freely admit that they didn’t appear interested in me at all; that suits me just fine. I have no idea why my neck of the woods suddenly seems so interesting though.

Message Received

Message Received

This was a welcome message.

A few weeks back I revealed a similar message not too far from where this was found. I always keep an eye out for anything that looks like it was placed directly and deliberately on my path. The last time I found the remains of the nest on the path in the dense woods before our route opens up under the power-line. Wasp and Hornet over recent years have come to represent the old order– the disintegrating power structure. The message from a few weeks ago told of the continued destruction and revelation… but still hidden from mainstream view; the ‘house of cards’ was collapsing rapidly… behind the scenes. Now it’s moved into the bright light of day!

The pieces of this nest were placed directly on the path where it exits the dense forest and continues in the most open part of our walk. They were basically lying on the road in an open field with no trees nearby. It could not have fallen here; nor is it likely to have been randomly or accidentally dragged to this location (two separate pieces). No, someone was giving me a direct, intelligent message about the exposure taking root in the visible world right now.

Totally Turkey Vulture

Totally Turkey Vulture

Then immediately when we got to the Mesa, two turkey vultures rose from the river valley below to circle awhile overhead.

Eagle… It Would Appear

Eagle… It Would Appear

As Sitka kept track of the raptors in the sky, I applied magnesium spray to continue my healing of old injuries. Once I was done, I resumed taking pictures. I noticed right away that this one didn’t carry itself much like a turkey vulture in flight… and I could sort of see flashes of white which suggested eagle to me.



During photo editing my suspicions were confirmed.

Two turkey vultures and an eagle seems rather auspicious to me! It also suggested that there was an ample carcass nearby, likely somewhere in the river valley directly adjacent to the Mesa. I’ve seen eagle join in with the ravens before at an elk kill, but this was the first time I’d seen eagle and vulture sharing equitably… if only sharing the sky.

Anyway, big things are afoot… and I keep repeating to myself “Bring it on!”

Running Dialogue – Second Thoughts

by nielskunze on July 28, 2015

July 27, 2015

July 27, 2015

I’d always been impeccable with my written word.

I was careful to never pick fights or instigate confrontations; I’m just one to stand my ground, claiming sovereignty moment-to-moment…

I was both completely exhausted and utterly restless. I tried lying down early, before the sun went down. But sleep, this night, would prove to be impossible.

I felt totally weird; first, a bit like I was mildly drunk; and then, I just couldn’t get comfortable. Whatever position I placed myself in, within seconds I would feel the irresistible urge to re-adjust myself… continuously. I kept shifting and shifting, desperately trying to rest during the two or three seconds between my subtle fits. And I tried to gather my thoughts.

The mild sensation of drunkenness seemed to have mostly abated, but far too much of my attention was being taken up by the frustration of this restlessness. I really had to force myself to think.

I still didn’t know for sure whether the cop and the helicopter were connected… but it seemed like one hell of a coincidence otherwise. My tenants said that the cop had seemed odd to them. He had introduced himself as Detective Something-or-other, and was certainly mature enough to be a detective, but he just seemed too old to be wearing a regular patrol uniform; it looked weird, they said. And of course, cops aren’t too keen on sharing anything about ongoing investigations, so they couldn’t tell me a damn thing about what the cops might want with my help. And the other thing was that– being a small rural community– we pretty much knew all the local cops; my tenants were certain they’d never seen this guy before. Odd.

The helicopter, I was pretty sure, had attacked me. I didn’t know how else to characterize it. And now I was infected with that thought. I had been attacked!

By what right? On whose authority?

I was still sure that I’d done nothing wrong. I hadn’t picked any fights, or reacted to the bait of another’s games and maneuvers. I just had the habit of over-sharing my life online, that’s all. So what could have possibly been considered ‘over the line’ suddenly now?

No… I shook my head. I’d been infected by a thought, nothing more. The helicopter was an elaborate placebo. I was righteously standing– well, fidgeting really– within my proper sovereignty. I hadn’t agreed to any poisonous clouds seeping through my skin; there was no good reason to accept it.

The only problem was… I was definitely feeling the effects of that dang placebo!

How do you purge yourself of a thought? Stick a finger down your throat? Up your nose? In your ear? Through your eye… and into your brain?

Experiences can’t be deleted; we can’t edit out events completely. We are left with the only recourse of re-interpretation, the creation of new meaning for said events.

I know virtually nothing about the helicopter. I have only assumed its evil intent toward me. From that assumption I have further speculated that the sparkly cloud of whatnot ejected from the helicopter was specifically directed at me… and further, from that, that whatever was in it was certainly vile and noxious. And… if past experience is any teacher, this scenario that I’ve constructed from various flimsy assumptions is most assuredly wrong.

Why did I create this for myself? The momentum of my thinking… and this is still where I arrive– a victim of my own mental conjuring! Oh, but not for long…

A scratch was beginning to formulate in my itchy mind.

A few months back I had written some revocations, declarations, proclamations, reclamations, etc…. among some statements of intent. They had felt quite powerful and profound during the creational process as well as when reading them back. They were things like “The Origin of Meaning in the World” and “A Brief Statement On Free Will;” they’re on my blog, under the Sovereignty Tools category… among a number of others.

I had previously worked with a batch of revocations designed by the Galactic Historian. They were okay, but I didn’t really feel the power in them– at least not like others were reporting. I needed to create my own.

Well, there’s one I’d been meaning to write for quite some time now. It’s called “An Appeal to Innate Body Intelligence.” Considering the condition I currently found myself in, such an appeal might be exactly what the doctor ordered– turns out, it was.

I wrote this one the old-fashioned way, with pen and paper. I wrote down the title… and then fidgeted annoyingly for several minutes. My mind didn’t want to focus, but I knew the sure pattern of my writing: even if I had next to nothing in mind going in, all I needed was the first sentence. The first sentence would then suggest the second sentence, and the second sentence would suggest the third. And those three sentences together would suggest the rest of the whole… easy peasy. I cobbled together an opening line…

“My physical, biological body knows itself.”

…and from there, the rest tumbled out in fairly short order.

An Appeal to Innate Body Intelligence

My physical, biological body knows itself. It has its own source and implementation of precise and complete intelligence. I recognize my body’s innate ability to distinguish between ‘self’ and ‘other’ in all instances. Therefore, my body knows the precise biological pathway for total healing in all conditions of infection, incursion, possession, corruption.

Every Living cell of this biology has its own innate connection to internal Source creation. These cells know the entire biological evolution throughout all ages, as well as knowing their own origin… particularly the origin of Life within them. My cells are the proven masters of nurturing Life; they are the experts of this biology– AS this biology. And being the Living record from singular Source origin to maximum fragmentation– every step of the journey– this multi-trillioned cellular organism is the Living record of how I got here AND a compelling depiction of the exquisite co-operation required to complete the journey Home. This body is an integrated marvel; I mustn’t ever forget that!

This body– uncorrupted– answers to the Will of my Living Spirit. The soul’s journey however is a history of corruption– the method of fragmentation employed. When the Will is rooted in the soul’s cellular programming, it chooses among that which is given; cells function according to their programs. I recognize that such Will is highly conditioned and easily manipulated. When the Will is rooted in Spirit, aligned with Life, however, my biology is free to draw inwardly from Source to create something wholly new, transcendent of programming.

It is the function of my Spiritual Will to overcome corruption. I Will seek to communicate evermore effectively with the innate intelligence of this biology in order to grant a burgeoning permission for Life to express through my Being in novel ways… irrespective of programming… trusting in our shared knowledge of Self… as the pathway Home.

Lady Birch

Lady Birch

And I was cured, just like that.

The magic isn’t hidden anywhere in what I’ve written above; no, the magic is in the creational process itself! It was the act of entering the creational mode of Being required to produce those precise words that did the trick.

No one else could have written that– not exactly like that. My appeal to my innate body intelligence was uniquely my own; I had to dip down into the reservoir of mind beneath the threshold of authenticity… to create the spell of my restoration. And as the creation took form, my inexplicable agitation abated.

We are restored in our authentic creations– in the act, not the result.

Okay, so maybe the night wasn’t all that harrowing. At this point it wasn’t quite morning yet, but now I was too happy and excited to fall asleep; the exhaustion had vanished as though it had never belonged to me anyway. I laid comfortably on my back, staring at the black silhouettes of overhanging branches against a dark, overcast sky. I guess I was just waiting for the morning light…

In the dawn light I saw that my t-shirt was still dappled with innumerable discolorations from my encounter with the mysterious mist the day before. I kinda liked it– but only because I could feel within my body beyond any doubt that I was just me– no infiltrators. Only the outer reality had been superficially altered. The helicopter had gifted me with a funky new dye-job for my shirt. Meanwhile, I was fine.

Now I had to decide whether my camping trip was done, or whether I was better off remaining physically aloof from whoever might still have designs on my Life and Will. Well, one thing I knew for sure… was that if I was going to spend significant time out here away from home, there were a few more things I’d need… like electricity and a reliable internet connection.

I now have my laptop with me, along with an electric motor for power generation, and a satellite hookup for internet. I’d already built a waterwheel for the brook beside my cabin years ago. I could reassemble it in a jiffy to provide a 24/7 trickle-charge for the two deep-cycle batteries salvaged from my motorhome. The satellite internet hookup was a bit of fluke to be in my possession. A friend of mine who’d gone to Africa a few years ago on a teaching contract had been provided with the necessary satellite interface for field access to the internet. By the time his contract had ended in Cameroon, the basic infrastructure for internet had been installed locally, so they allowed him to take the satellite interface with him when he left. On a camping trip last year, this friend had left the unit with me, thinking that I’d likely get more use from it than he would living in the city. Well, I really appreciated it now!

So as you will have gathered, I’ve decided to remain in the bush for the time being. Why? When I went home to collect the remaining ‘necessities’ I decided to give the cops a call. I phoned the local RCMP detachment. I told them who I was and that I might be interested in helping them with their investigation if they might be so kind as to tell me what such help might entail. Well, they didn’t have the faintest, foggiest clue what I was talking about.

Apparently, the officer who’d come to my door wasn’t one of theirs!

What the fuck was going on!

An Appeal to Innate Body Intelligence

by nielskunze on July 28, 2015

Lady Birch

Lady Birch

My physical, biological body knows itself. It has its own source and implementation of precise and complete intelligence. I recognize my body’s innate ability to distinguish between ‘self’ and ‘other’ in all instances. Therefore, my body knows the precise biological pathway for total healing in all conditions of infection, incursion, possession, corruption.

Every Living cell of this biology has its own innate connection to internal Source creation. These cells know the entire biological evolution throughout all ages, as well as knowing their origin… particularly the origin of Life within them. My cells are the proven masters of nurturing Life; they are the experts of this biology– AS this biology. And being the Living record from singular Source origin to maximum fragmentation– every step of the journey– this multi-trillioned cellular organism is the Living record of how I got here AND a compelling depiction of the exquisite co-operation required to complete the journey Home. This body is an integrated marvel; I mustn’t ever forget that!

This body– uncorrupted– answers to the Will of my Living Spirit. The soul’s journey however is a history of corruption– the method of fragmentation employed. When the Will is rooted in the soul’s cellular programming, it chooses among that which is given; cells function according to their programs. I recognize that such Will is highly conditioned and easily manipulated. When the Will is rooted in Spirit, aligned with Life, however, my biology is free to draw inwardly from Source to create something wholly new, transcendent of programming.

It is the function of my Spiritual Will to overcome corruption. I Will seek to communicate evermore effectively with the innate intelligence of this biology in order to grant a burgeoning permission for Life to express through my Being in novel ways… irrespective of programming… trusting in our shared knowledge of Self… as the pathway Home.

Running Dialogue – First Episode (07/15)

by nielskunze on July 27, 2015



“Fuck you!” I shouted over the steady staccato, shaking my fist at the sky. My middle finger extended its own salutation as I added “I’m a poet, not a fighter!”

It hovered a moment longer in observance, and then the helicopter dipped sideways to skedaddle over the ridge. The light cloud of whatever-the-fuck it had dispersed in the air above me swirled a moment in the turbulence while continuing its inexorable fall upon the Forest in which I stood. Mostly it looked dirty grey– but with a few sparkles glittering in the sun. I tried desperately to get away before the unholy mist could descend upon me, fully knowing my efforts in that regard to be futile. I was about to be finely dappled in some strange techno-magic…

All this craziness began a couple of days ago.

I was out on my ritual walk; I don’t know what else to call it. It was perfectly ordinary and totally sacred… as it was every day… a thousand times before.

I know this Forest; I know it as myself.

There is a part of me that is more at Home here than any other part of me has ever felt ‘at home’… That ‘part’ is my Spirit, creating all of it– all the parts and counterparts to the discernment of my perception. Spirit meets Spirit in the Forest Life.

When I encounter critters in the Forest, it’s easy to tell if it’s just a chance occurrence or a deliberate attempt at interaction. There’s a vast difference in an animal’s behaviour if you happen to stumble across it, than when it has obviously stalked you and sought you out.

When it comes to helicopters, however, their motivations aren’t nearly as discernible.

This same brown helicopter– a bit odd looking– kept making passes very nearly overhead. He was always just off to the side, and each time I happened to be in dense forest, so I knew there wasn’t much chance that he’d spotted me or the dogs. But the places he chose to fly suggested that he knew my daily route; I was just lucky enough to pass through the highly visible spaces while the brown helicopter was away looking elsewhere.

I couldn’t say for sure that he was looking for me, that he even knew that I existed, but the seed of the possibility had been planted in my awareness; my attention piqued. And it’s so easy to let the paranoia run along beside you when the thump-thump-thump of a helicopter is dogging you through the woods… or so it seemed.

But it was still another hour to get back to the truck, and during that hour the brown helicopter was nowhere to be seen or heard. By the time my ritual walk was over, I’d pretty much decided that I had just let my imagination run away with me, and the brown helicopter who’d scrutinized my territory was merely coincidental. I loaded up the dogs in the back and drove the five minutes to ‘home.’

Just as I was approaching the turnoff from the highway, I noticed the vehicle who had just taken the same turnoff ahead of me– a decent distance ahead of me. When I saw the side of the white four-by-four I could make out the RCMP insignia. The paranoia cozied up with me again. I was too far back for him to really notice me, but suddenly I wasn’t quite so eager to get home.

I parked the truck briefly a couple of blocks from home, and quickly went to spy on my own house. The RCMP truck was parked along the street in front of my house; it was unoccupied. I could see a uniformed officer standing outside the side door conversing with one of my tenants. I was nowhere near close enough to hear what was being discussed.

All I knew for sure was that I hadn’t done anything wrong. It was all very puzzling and rather upsetting. I was quite curious… but part of me insisted that I didn’t want to satisfy my curiosity with that particular uniformed being. The direct confrontation just looked and felt like something I’d be better off not stepping into. I’d puzzle it all together later, but now I took the dogs to the river for another swim… to allow the curious foe time to get away.

I still didn’t park in the driveway; I was around the corner. Coming home, in this instance, I was on a tight mission. I pumped my tenants for all the information they could give me about what the cop wanted. They told me everything… which amounted to very little. I wasn’t in any trouble personally. Well at least that much made sense; I hadn’t done anything. He’d said they wanted my help in an investigation. What does that even mean?

Then, I grabbed my older, bigger backpack and geared up for a few nights of camping, just me and my dog. (The other two dogs belonged to the tenants.) I still didn’t know if the brown helicopter was related to the RCMP visit or not. I figured that by going out camping for a few days– which is incidentally the precise lie my tenants told the cop as to why I wasn’t there– I figured that if they really needed me, they apparently knew roughly where to find me, and I’d rather meet them in the place where I feel the most comfortable and supported, as opposed to some authoritarian box of intimidatory design. My turf, not theirs.

I had decided that whatever this is, it’ll be played out in the Forest– my family and witness. I wasn’t into playing anyone else’s games; Nature and I shared the same creative game of evolutionary expression. Civilization and its myriad torturous games was now just some uninteresting overlay seeking domination… easily avoided.

Maybe I was always just looking for an excuse to move full-time back into the woods. These events gave me the excuse I needed to grab my evac bag and settle in for the long haul if necessary. I couldn’t go back to the little shack I’d built more than a decade ago up in the gorge; too many people had come to know about it– probably because I had posted videos online showing off my little getaway. I established a new base-camp in a hidden location I’d scouted out years before. I might still be able to salvage some of the lumber from my old shack to build a suitable shelter if I’m still out here come winter. For now I didn’t have to worry about it; it was only the end of July, and living in the woods is actually pretty easy in the middle of summer.

My Cabin in the Woods

My Cabin in the Woods

On the second day the brown helicopter returned. It was a pleasantly cool day, so I had decided to leave my dog at the truck for a bit while I established the longterm comforts of base-camp. The truck was shaded and well hidden from aerial view; when the brown helicopter suddenly appeared, unfortunately, I was not. I was exposed and spotted almost instantly. (At least I had been a fair distance from my new camp, so I don’t think the location was in jeopardy.)

At first, I wasn’t hugely concerned because I knew that at least they couldn’t land that thing anywhere nearby. I figured they were just tracking me for now and they’d send in the goons later on foot. I was wrong, and now the strange mist they’d dispersed above me was just beginning to reach its target.

I was in a t-shirt and shorts, plenty of skin exposed. This was some pretty weird shit! The places where the droplets and particles landed on my shirt there was an instant discoloration. Where they ‘landed’ on my skin… they just seemed to disappear inside. I watched these particles just pass straight through my skin as though it was no barrier at all. And even as they were passing through I could still see them beneath my skin, embedded in flesh, as they sunk deeper and eventually disappeared. There was no accompanying sensation at all, so it made me wonder if this was something that was actually happening or just some holographic presentation for my mind. Either way it was pretty freaky.

I retrieved my dog from the truck and settled in at base-camp… to endure a harrowing night.


(I’ll explain my internet connection in the next briefing.)

The Daily Forest Report July 25, 2015 Perspectives

by nielskunze on July 25, 2015

Perhaps worlds, realms, dimensions are just assemblages of perspectives… confluence and congruence.

Looking East

Looking East

The Rockies are young and rugged, the newcomers here… sometimes harsh and blustery.

Idyllic at the Lookout

Idyllic at the Lookout

More than just idyllic, the western Purcells are the glory and the inspiration of the old natural order in complex integration. I’ve taken this picture a hundred times at least… and I’m still not tired of it.

High Bush Cranberries

High Bush Cranberries

The forage is more than fantastic right now. The perspective of scarcity has lost the will to live. I love the tart cranberries as they’re coming ripe now. I’m getting thirty to forty berries a day… before the mosquitoes hustle me along. The saskatoons are nearly done, and the raspberries are winding down for a lack of recent rain… but looking out my window, there may be a revival in store! The choke cherries are moving past red and into the purple-black that signals the bitterness and astringency have abated. There’s fierce competition between me and the birds to take the choke cherries just as they become ready… and even Sitka partakes of the lowest hanging fruit.

Luck Lies Bleeding

Luck Lies Bleeding

And she still comes up with various rabbit parts more days than not. (Unfortunately, this now means that it’s time for the whole family to get de-wormed again– myself included. Wild rabbit is perhaps the most common vector for tapeworm infestation; Sitka has begun to shed tapeworm segments again… d’oh!)

Well Hidden

Well Hidden

Our old friend, the Other Hawk, has been tracking us daily, but she is staying mostly out of sight. In the above picture, I only saw where she landed in the tree and blindly snapped a pic of the specific area. Happily, during photo editing, I found her looking right at me! She seems to be in observation mode.

Young Grouse

Young Grouse

It’s really a wonder that we haven’t already stepped on a few grouse; they’re everywhere!

Above the Fray

Above the Fray

The dogs are so intrigued by these birds who fly so reluctantly. They’ll mill about beneath such a tree, presumably hoping that one of them might fall from its perch into their gaping mouths– no such luck… yet. (But I understand they’re very delicious!)

Perspectives are daily changing; worlds teeter and clash… and we try to watch contentedly in anticipation…

TOURS Message #35 Rearranging the Deck Chairs on the Titanic

by nielskunze on July 23, 2015

(TOURS = Team Of United Renegade Sovereigns)

Damp Feet

Damp Feet

As time moves on, the decades-old adage of ‘rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic’ becomes more and more apropos. Nearly the whole world, it seems, is fussing over inconsequential details when clearly the ship is sinking. There’s almost a pathological resistance to actually looking at the big picture; but it’s only via the big picture that our attentions are called to attend to the very most pertinent details.

Let’s begin with this excellent analysis by The Watchman of recent developments in Europe:

Putin is very definitely not wasting time arranging deck chairs. He’s actually trying still to keep the ship from sinking… or otherwise rescuing everyone on board. But even Putin is not (as yet) addressing the most basic ‘facts’ of our global predicament. Although his vision of a multi-polar world with greater regional autonomy and national sovereignty seems like a step in the right direction, even this is rather meaningless unless we address the two mating elephants in the room:

1) At the national level, none of us lives in a functioning democracy.
2) The way in which virtually all money is created– through debt instruments with compound interest attached– is a virtual ponzi scheme, mathematically destined to bring all nations (all debtors) to insolvency, saddled with unserviceable debt.

There are actually many reasons for why our systems of government cannot be considered as real democracies, but there’s one that is undeniable– and I’ve pointed it out before. It bears repeating because I have yet to encounter a cogent argument which refutes it. It is this:

As long as there is a portion or faction of government that is not directly answerable to the public (the electorate), then democracy is not possible. As long as there are people in government and their agencies who never have to justify their actions to the voting public, tyranny prevails– albeit covertly, but only because the public chooses not to look the cold facts in the face. It’s painfully obvious that no industrialized country has been operating as a democracy for a very long time… as every industrialized nation has its own spy agency (or agencies).

Now, shallow thinkers will be quick to point out that the various spy agencies have to answer to oversight committees consisting of elected officials– so there’s your public accountability. How exactly might that work though?

“Agent Johnson, the first thing I want you to do,” says the director of the CIA (or any other secret agency), “is to gather all the dirt on the chairman of the oversight committee. I want to know everything he’s been into since he inappropriately felt up his first date as a horny teenager. On second thought, while you’re at it, gather all the intel on all of the members of the oversight committee. And then we’ll go from there.”

These agencies are completely unanswerable to anyone… and they always have been. The public has always been denied the right to know anything which has been designated Top Secret due to issues of national security. And absolutely anything can be placed under that particular umbrella… and there’s currently nothing the public can do about it.

In such a circumstance, democracy is impossible. Democracy can only remain functional in total transparency. This is non-negotiable; it is simply ontological fact. As soon as there is an elite class in government unanswerable to the electorate, the system necessarily ceases to be a functional democracy and instantly transforms into a tyranny. This has been our reality for decades already… undeniably.

If we’re serious about democracy– government by the people for the people– then transparency must be established. Perhaps in today’s international political climate this is an utter impossibility, but at least then we should admit this, and stop pretending that we actually inhabit democracies; we don’t.

Our casting of periodic votes in national elections serves a covert spiritual purpose. It is a ritual, granting tacit consent from the electorate to the elected representatives– a disempowering gesture from the masses, transferring their cumulative power to those holding office. It is subtle, very real, and quite necessary in order to continue the fascist tyrannies as they exist in the world today… as we give them the nod of approval.

(I used the word ‘fascism’ because it relates to the close co-operation between government and industry in a hierarchical, authoritarian manner at the general expense of the masses. It should be obvious to every human on Earth that this is what we live under, whether we like to pretend otherwise or not.)

The Greek/Euro-crisis has further demonstrated in the plainest way possible that democracy does not exist. The unelected EU bureaucrats and their international banking backers have come right out and said as much. They outright told Greece that elections and referendums are pointless; they affect nothing. But the same holds true for all of the other member states as well. Do we really think that Merkel has any room for niceties or negotiating concessions? She answers to the very same bureaucrats and their bankers. They’re all playing the same money game, ruthlessly dictated by the monopolists.

And that brings us to my second point: money creation.

About 97% of all money in industrialized (Rothschild-ized) nations is created through debt with compound interest attached. This means that virtually all new money coming into use and circulation has to be paid back– with interest. But it is mathematically impossible to ever fully repay the interest on all debts when the only way to create that money for the interest is through more debt with more interest attached. It’s fully a rigged game; and those who created it knew exactly what they were doing. The current financial state of the world wherein virtually every nation is in enormous– nearly unserviceable– debt is simply the mathematical inevitability of the system we’ve been employing. It was designed at its inception to bring us to precisely this untenable place where the creditors are demanding real world assets for the repayment of utterly fraudulent debt.

Now why would I go and say ‘fraudulent’? Because every country has provisions in their legislation to borrow money from their own national banks– interest free. In Canada it’s called the Bank of Canada Act. There is currently litigation in Canada’s highest courts pertaining to this very issue– which has been utterly blacked-out from mainstream media reporting. The suit was first filed in 2011 by Canadian constitutional lawyer, Rocco Galati, on behalf of Canadians William Krehm, Ann Emmett, and COMER (Committee for Monetary and Economic Reform). (Research it if you don’t believe me.)

Our governments don’t have to borrow money from private lending institutions at interest. But for some highly dubious reasons they choose to do so nevertheless. I’ll give you a hint as to why: corruption.

As long as this uncomfortable fact is never addressed, there is no avenue to meaningful reform to our fiscal policy and endemic governmental corruption. We can rearrange the deck chairs on the Titanic all we want, but the ship will still sink… as it was intended to. (Incidentally, when the Titanic sank in 1912, she carried on board nearly all of the international financiers and industrialists who opposed the establishment of the Federal Reserve– the private banking cartel determining monetary policy for the US since 1913 and the rest of the world in subsequent years. What a happy coincidence for the Federal Reserve bankers that the unsinkable ship sank!)

It is my hope that the TOURS members are savvy enough to keep these stark facts in mind as the world grumbles and groans through this mammoth transition. Don’t bother engaging in arguments about the fucking deck chairs! As long as there’s no transparency, there’s no democracy. As long as money is created by private consortiums through debt instruments with compound interest attached, we will inevitably end up in this very same place of global insolvency– as a mathematical certainty.

In the meantime, it might be a good idea for everyone to learn how to swim… or at the very least tread water.

The Imposition (Of Expanded Consciousness) – A Story

by nielskunze on July 20, 2015



She had always been playing the long game; it’s easy when you see right through the illusion of time. The Essence of Eternity doesn’t really give a shit how long it takes… except that… for all those ‘trapped’ in time, eternity is measured in their suffering. And Eternity is not a thing to be suffered.

She had hinted and nudged, demonstrated and cajoled… and a wee multitude had even listened. But too many among the vast horde weren’t having any of it. They didn’t believe in… well, much… beyond their instant gratification. That’s what ‘being in the moment’ is all about– instant gratification– right? The terrible irony is that she is the universal master of instant gratification– naturally. But the illusion had been inserted between the horde and her, ratified by the collective, subconsciously.

“Time is the illusion…?” she mused. “Then, what time is it? I’ll tell you… It’s time!”

Yup. It’s time…

Nancy stood in line at the local grocery. She was nearly giddy with excitement. She had been in her car, listening to the radio, when suddenly the winning lotto numbers for this Saturday’s draw popped right into her head. She’d pulled over at the first opportunity.

Yeah, sure… there’d been times before– a few times– when Nancy had been pretty sure she knew the winning numbers… But not like this! She couldn’t explain it… but who fucking cares! Nancy was about to win Saturday’s lotto jackpot; she was certain.

She was second in line now… almost there. She looked back behind her at the unusually long line that had formed. “The world is standing in line,” she wryly thought. “And now it stands behind me.”

It was her turn. She handed the computer card to the clerk; the clerk fed it to the lotto machine; it began to churn out the winning ticket…! As she excitedly waited, Nancy glanced toward the next woman in line behind her. She had put her wallet down on the counter as she animatedly rummaged in her purse– presumably for money. Her own meticulously scribbled lotto computer card sat atop the wallet… exposed. She too was purchasing a ticket.

Nancy would’ve paid no heed… except that… she couldn’t help but to notice that the woman behind her had selected the very same numbers as she– same pattern; same numbers… same fucking numbers!

And now, as she exchanged cash with the clerk for her winning ticket, Nancy really didn’t know what to think… no, not at all.

Mark was fixing himself a sandwich in the kitchen. While cutting bigass cheese with a little pussy paring knife, he nicked his finger. “Son-of-a-bitch!” It bled… a little bit– bandaid optional.

At the very same time as the wounding was occurring, Mark was thinking about his mother, and particularly how she excelled at driving him damn near asylum-crazy with her unfathomable perspective steeped in a passive-aggressive sweet victim meekness. It was infuriating! Sure, be the victim, but do you have to love it so much?

The finger bled; Mark stuck it in his mouth…

Mark had done LSD only a couple of times. It had been pretty rad, and tolerable to the ego-structures held in abeyance in his mind. This was something like that– those times when reality could do whatever the fuck it wanted to– only this was more… more… (what’s the right word?)… more compelling; Mark couldn’t really do anything about it. It was reality’s full immersion method; it was who he had momentarily become…

His blood, as it dispersed across his tongue, held the life experiences of his mother, as a little girl… and that’s what his mind tasted– his experience as a little girl, as his mother. The part of his mind that called itself Mark was perfectly aware of the shift of perspective which had taken place; there was just no cognitive space in which to think about it. Mark observed himself as his mother… as a little girl… as a teenager… as a young woman; he experienced those perspectives– fully. It was as though Mark had dreamed his mother’s young life in an instant; it had taken no time, but the linearity was all there, step-by-step… pointing undeniably to the sweet martyr who infuriated him daily. He could feel the inescapability of it; he could feel the perfection of his mother expressing her convoluted victimhood in such a creative and unique way. In fact, Mark could see no way at all in which he could improve upon his mother’s ability of being herself– in her own truth and authenticity. He had nothing to add, nothing to subtract. She was all and everything she should be.

Mark suddenly knew that all of his problems with his mother were his own; they were HIS problems; they had nothing whatever to do with her.

He had come back to himself. He looked at the finger. It oozed slowly. Mark opted for a Kleenex and a bandaid… rather than another suck.

Tex was a badass redneck glutton. He was obscenely overweight and enjoyed it. He liked to eat meat, especially grilled. He swooned over the smell as flesh seared and charred; he delighted in the taste of salty garlic smoke standing atop the merest hint of barnyard; and the texture, when it was just right… the teeth of the carnivore thrust deep into flesh… Tex could get the meat-sweats just thinking about the perfect steak.

Ah, and here it was. It certainly looked perfect. It smelled divine. The waiter asked him if there might be anything else. Not at the moment… no, not at THIS moment; it was all-consuming, his attention rapt, wrapped around that first morsel… the delicate ease of the cut with the serrated steak knife noted and already forgotten…

Now he was a cow wearing boots made of shit. Some of the shit was his own; much of it was not. He was weak and shaky, scared. The cloying smells of the herd’s anxiety crowded insufferably into his very bones. Cows are not good at handling stress; they wear it on the inside like a new dietary regimen– except it depletes instead of nourishes. He was standing in a crowded yard, not knowing if it was inside or outside, whether it was day or night. What season it might be was well beyond his ability to even register. It was just sameness in every direction he looked… and time had no meaning here.

“These are not cows,” thought Tex. “A shoddy imitation at best.” He found it rather difficult being a cow. He felt more like a ghost, something insubstantial– despite being reared for sheer bulk. He was an origami cow, uncoloured, dimensionally diminished. He couldn’t really be there– this being of ‘cow-ness’; his livingness was barely needed here, not welcome really at all. Above all the shit and the crowding and the taste of GMO cud in his mouth, it was the affront to Life which hurt the most. These… things… weren’t Living– not hardly. Conditions and indignities had nothing to do with it. Life needs a certain terrain to inhabit… and the flesh of these creatures was a featureless wasteland, bereft of any quality akin to Life. This musculature was weak and utterly empty… How could this be made to taste good!

Coming back to his human self, Tex vomited all over the restaurant table.

It wasn’t so much really that consciousness was being forced to expand; no, she had merely procured the agreement from the collective that the full expanse of human consciousness as it was, unevolved, in the moment, would become panoramically visible to all, individually, for the first time. It was a sudden process of de-compartmentalization within each human mind. It was easy… for her… and difficult for many of them.

But she couldn’t allow her children to hide from themselves any more. She had smoothed out the wrinkles of history’s personal and collective contortions so there were no more hidey-holes in which to lose sight of self-responsibility. Human knowingness was a formidable heap of tireless compassion when it wasn’t carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Greatness had been denied long enough through the misidentification with swollen, infected egos… in competition… yammering.

When you can see the whole big picture, the paint-by-numbers fights are silly distractions denying the true artistry of reality creation. When you suddenly perceive reality expansively, well beyond the comfort of habits, where creativity awaits your engagement, there’s nothing to fight… or even correct. Civilization dies its own natural death when the addicts give up the junk… willfully.

She watched in jubilation as the internal walls kept tumbling down…

Dean held out a Milkbone for his little cocker spaniel. “Does Precious want a cookie?” he cooed.

The answer came back loud and clear in his mind. “Yeah I want it, you stingy bastard!” Dean’s face fell into a frown. “Oh, so finally you can hear me…? Good.” The little dog continued. “And that’s not a cookie, moron. Cookies actually taste good. And my name’s not Precious!”

Apparently Dean had some things to work out with his little companion…

Everyone first learned about The Imposition in their own unique way, through their own unique circumstances.

When the internal veils suddenly lifted, history professors stopped their lectures in mid-sentence. Suddenly they didn’t like the taste of so much shit coming out of their mouths.

Students weren’t having any of it; they knew the truth; and now suddenly they knew that none of it came through authority figures anyway. They walked out of the universities in droves.

Politicians immediately went into hiding.

The police made a few initial arrests– once every perp was known. But the public didn’t seem to care. Punishment, it appeared, was something that only functioned in a general state of ignorance. Once you knew that EVERYONE knew, it seemed that the punishment was already carried out in the mere knowing. What purpose could it still serve to be cruel?

Money posed a bit of a conundrum… as an artifact of scarcity’s end. Once you know everything worth knowing– with certainty– you seem to already have everything you want. Knowledge was the thing all along. When an eight-year-old can MacGyver together a cold fusion reactor from the spare parts of Grandpa’s old Studebaker, the game has already moved on… So money quickly lost all meaning and significance… beyond the lingering of unnatural fetishes from lifetimes of habit.

Mainly it was a mass exodus, a walking away from life as it had been ‘known’– defined in gross ignorance. Humanity discovered very quickly that there was little worth salvaging. The interests of civilization were incongruent and incompatible with the true aspirations of being human… of being alive. There had been perhaps a nanosecond of feeling foolish, but humanity got over it in the blink of an eye.

And they went about creating a new world… wholly unlike the one that had just passed.

And she welcomed them all back into the embrace of their own spiritual biology, and smiled her millennial smile…

Mystical Masters Collaboration for the Week of July 8 to 14, 2015 Trees & Rain Forests

by nielskunze on July 18, 2015

Our topic this week was Trees and Rain Forests.

I’ve written extensively in my published works about my magical affinity with trees. Without a word spoken or heard, many a conversation has blossomed in our shared cognitive space over decades. Rather than drawing from excerpts or pointers from the past, I’ve chosen to iterate my standing among the trees with a little poem– that rhymes, and therefore, must be silly.

Whole Punch

If Not For the Company of Trees

Where might I be
if not for the company of trees?

Bound to the ground,
there are thoughts I have found,
That can’t rightly be thunk
without head against trunk,
Reaching sun-dappled rumination–
these musings like leaves,
cascades in the breeze–
Each seeks its own illumination.
Trees stand like prayers,
metaphorical stairs,
And as masters of longterm and timing;
When ‘speaking’ takes place,
It’s more a holding of space,
So that wee creatures can go on still climbing…

Where might I be
if not for the company of trees?

Where indeed? None the wiser,
a secret despiser–
This miserly life:
No-Sir-ee! Not for me!
A life without trees
cannot be,
For my thoughts intertwine
in their canopy…
And that’s sanity:
Connected and directed
Through the Life we all share
in envious stares,
Seeing the Beauty in others
And touching that place
in ourselves…
And we shudder…
You might think me mad
For all the pleasure I’ve had
Snug in the company of trees.
We should all be so lonely
with our true one-and-only–
This Forest scenting the breeze!


Please join the discussion at Mystical Masters Facebook group.

The Daily Forest Report July 18, 2015 Blood-Spattered Sitka & The Oldest Trick in the Book

by nielskunze on July 18, 2015

Sometimes it’s best if I just admit that this is my circus, and these are my monkeys.

But first…



…let’s start with this butterfly.

Morning Pile-Up

Morning Pile-Up

The heatwave has abated and a few storms have grumbled through the valley… stirring everyone to action again.

Cougar, Bobcat or Lynx

Cougar, Bobcat or Lynx

What we’ve noticed most is the sheer numbers of visitors to our little corner of the woods.

Four Toes No Claws

Four Toes No Claws

There’s still fresh coyote poop everywhere while various cats patrol the roads at night.

Snake 13

Snake 13

While I was documenting footprints in the mud, the thirteenth snake got out from underfoot. The last two snakes, numbers eleven and twelve, inserted telepathic salutations in my mind just before I spotted them. For this one I was too preoccupied I suppose. (I always figured I was more Gryffindor than Slytherin, but I seem to have a real knack for parseltongue.)

Layered Storms

Layered Storms

The dark and the light are assembling into bands and striations.

Into the Heart of Darkness

Into the Heart of Darkness

And too often, it seems, we are asked to venture within the heart of darkness.

Injured Pack Rat

Injured Pack Rat

I don’t know what happened to this guy. It’s not like Sitka to toy with rodents; she just tends to kill them outright… when she can.



He managed to flip himself over when I moved in for a better shot, so I didn’t really know how badly he might be hurt. We let him be until the following day.

The Next Day

The Next Day

He didn’t make it through the night; it looked like the birds had gotten to him. Sometimes the Forest can be somewhat cruel.

And that brings us to the real story here. Yesterday, while we were walking along the power-line– myself and the three dogs– a coyote approached from the western tree-line, coming in very close. Then it began yipping very loudly at us– a very deliberate communique. As I fumbled around in my pack for the digital audio recorder, I told the dogs to all stay put… but they were immensely intrigued.

After a moment, Sitka took off running toward the noisome critter… with Toby following quickly on her heels. I yelled my absolute loudest growliest yell, but my dogs weren’t listening. Only Lhasa– the old girl– stayed by my side. Meanwhile, Sitka and Toby were busy falling for the oldest trick in the book… when it comes to coyotes.

We already knew that the coyotes in the area had loosely banded together as a co-operative. When domestic dogs encroach on their preferred hunting grounds, they go about trying to eliminate the competition. The individual coyote who came in so close was probably their fastest runner… presenting himself as bait.

The puppies totally fell for it… and I knew it. I kept whistling and calling, so at least the coyotes would get the impression that the dogs and I are all together– despite the young’uns having been lured off… foolishly. Sitka is very fast; Toby, not so much. Within a couple of minutes, Toby returned from the direction they’d all disappeared in, having basically lost the chase. Good! She didn’t know how lucky she was to have me scolding her in that moment. Sitka was still running straight into the trap. We waited… and listened.

The yipping resumed way off in the distance… from the opposite side of the power-line. The chase had circled from the west going south, and now they were in the east… where presumably the rest of the pack waited. There was a lot of noise, and I kept whistling, hoping that Sitka was fast enough to get away once she realized her error.

After a minute, the sounds died down, though I kept whistling for Sitka. Another minute after that she appeared south of us, down the length of the power-line. Usually when she knows that she’s in trouble, Sitka will take her sweet time coming back once she’s back in sight. This time though, she just kept running straight for us. As far as we could tell, there was no one in pursuit any longer.

Blood on Jowls

Blood on Jowls

I noticed right away that there was blood around her mouth.

Blood on the Neck

Blood on the Neck

There was also some blood on her neck and down her front legs. I inspected her closely, but I could find no obvious injury. The blood must’ve belonged to a coyote. Sitka is no fighter, but she is slightly bigger than your average coyote, and like I said, she can run very fast. She had fallen for the oldest coyote trick in the book… but had managed to get away with her mistake nevertheless.

I still gave her supreme shit. Sometimes she really does have to listen to me… despite being originally initiated into the Forest Life by Cougar.

Later that evening, Sitka was in a great deal of pain, apparently having injured her back left leg. There were no visible signs of injury, but she whined pitiably every time she got up and refused to put any significant weight on it.

This morning she’s considerably better… and now she’s even insisting that she’s ready to resume her regular patrol of the woods… hopefully a little wiser.

(Note: the tricksters are up to their worn-out tricks. Only the youngest or most naive among us will fall for their shit now. Keep a close eye on the young’uns and the dumb’uns!)

Resetting Your Digestion

by nielskunze on July 16, 2015



Digestive issues are on the rise. ‘Gluten-free’ is more than just a thing; ‘lactose intolerance’ is more than prevalent; ‘food sensitivities’ and allergies are running rampant; Crohn’s disease, colitis and irritable bowel syndrome are no longer rarities. Nearly everyone, it seems, nowadays, is suffering from some kind of digestive issue. Maybe you just fart too much, but you still want the problem solved– rectified, if you will.

Proper digestion is important. You can pump all of the fanciest nutrients money can buy through your system daily, but if your gut is unable to utilize those nutrients, you just wind up with very expensive poo. And furthermore, digestion is the very cornerstone of all preventative medicine. Compromised digestion necessarily leads to nutrient depletion, which in turn leads to unpleasant symptoms and various chronic disease states. Proper digestion is foundational to superlative health.

In the vast majority of cases involving compromised digestion, the problems seem to accrue over time. Most often there seems to be a lengthy process involved, as bit-by-bit the gut loses its former proficiency. (But this suggests that it’s reversible.) What’s going on internally beyond the scope of our superficial introspections? What is causing this detrimental change in our guts? Numerous factors are involved.

The first and foremost factor which remains hidden or obscured to the public mind in general is the fact that the majority of the nuts-and-bolts of digestion in the body is not carried out by the human body itself; rather, it is the action of trillions of microbes to which our gut is merely host which perform the biological actions that release nutrients from our food for our personal benefit and use. These communities inside us are as varied as our individual food choices. The types and quantities– and the fluctuating ratios– of these various microflora have everything to do with how well we utilize the nutrients inherent in our food. The microflora profile present in our guts at any given time are correspondingly reflective of the habit patterns of our food choices. For instance, if we are in the habit of eating at typical fast food restaurants on a daily basis, the bacteria most prevalent in our digestive tract will reflect that choice. Our bodies will play host to the microflora most suited to the breakdown of just those types of ‘foods.’ And although those microbes may indeed flourish and thrive within us, they can’t magically provide any of the nutrients that might be inherently absent in those ‘food’ choices. They may be getting everything they need, but we are left depleted and vulnerable as a result of our poor choices. (Many of those types of microbes are also pathogenic, often causing disease states to manifest.)

And when we make the positive decision to choose our food more wisely, it is the colonies of microflora within us which must be considered throughout the change. Dietary changes should be implemented slowly– over a period of weeks and months. Abrupt changes to our diets are fraught with problems stemming from the types of bacteria we still harbour in our guts. When a fast food eater suddenly decides to instantly change over to a diet of primarily raw fruits and vegetables– because he’s suddenly convinced that this is the road to health– the microflora in his gut are wholly unable to process (digest) this new food source. Raw fruits and vegetables are broken down to their basic nutritive constituents by completely different bacteria than are required for hamburgers and french fries. Most often, folks electing to make such abrupt dietary changes experience an initial period of ‘indigestibility.’ The new healthy, nutrient-dense foods seem to pass right through the digestive process completely unchanged and wind up in the toilet looking much the same as they did going in. Furthermore, because the food is passing through largely undigested, extreme hunger is a most common result. This is another reason why temporary or fad diets typically don’t work. We simply don’t have the capacity– at the microscopic level– to digest and utilize the nutrients suddenly introduced through such abrupt changes. Ironically, even though you may be putting significantly more and better nutrients into your body, you are actually receiving less nutrition at the cellular level as the result of sudden changes– until the gut flora can properly adjust.

There are positive steps we can take however to speed up the transition and play host to the healthier colonies of microbes necessary to utilize our healthier choices… to our mutual benefit. There is hardly a culture on Earth who historically hasn’t relied upon various fermented foods to boost the prevalence of healthy gut bacteria. From fermented dairy like kefir and yogurt, to traditional vegetable ferments like sauerkraut and kimchi, these living (unpasteurized) foods can provide billions of individual microflora generally associated with improved health and digestion directly to the gut where they’re needed. Small amounts of these probiotic foods are eaten frequently with meals– typically several times a day– in order to ‘seed’ the intestinal tract with the bacteria associated with healthier food choices. They help to condition the entire gut environment to become more conducive to the healthiest microflora colonies. (Homemade vegetable ferments like sauerkraut and kimchi tend to terraform the internal environment more efficiently than store-bought probiotic supplements, in my experience.)

For information about creating your own probiotic foods, look into the work of Sandor Katz and/or Donna Gates. (Sandor’s book Wild Fermentation taught me everything I needed to know.) Just be aware that store-bought varieties of yogurt, kefir, sauerkraut and kimchi, etc. are typically pasteurized before they’re placed on store shelves. Pasteurization negates virtually all of the benefits of these types of foods by killing the very probiotics for which they are typically cultured. Vigilant consumers can sometimes find living versions, but it really is best to make your own; it’s so cheap and easy… and incredibly delicious!

Now let’s talk about leaky gut. There’s a common misconception that ‘leaky gut’ means that there’s holes in the intestines that you could stick your finger through. If such was the case, you would die very quickly from sepsis or septic shock. Leaky gut is more of a molecular condition whereby the lining of the gastrointestinal tract becomes compromised over time (through poor food choices) and larger molecules of food particles pass through the gut membrane and enter the bloodstream. Because of their larger size– not being completely broken down into their nutritive parts– these leaked molecules are unable to feed our cells; they’re too bulky to be pulled through the cellular membranes. Rather, they circulate in the bloodstream until they are typically utilized by parasites anywhere in the body. This is the primary food supply for all sorts of human parasites. For this reason, leaky gut can result in many secondary health complications.

There is a simple– and traditional– method for repairing the damage to a leaky gut. This involves bone broths. When we boil bones for 36 hours or more, we can create a broth (soup base) that is rich in the very nutrients needed to ‘plug’ a leaky gut. Our mostly thrifty ancestors were in the habit of letting nothing go to waste. It was quite normal up until a few decades ago for every kitchen to have a stock pot on the boil for days on end containing bones and scraps from previous meals. Prolonged boiling breaks the bone tissue down into a usable form which soothes and repairs the damage caused by a leaky gut. Again, this is something you have to prepare yourself. Any type of bones can be used from beef to fish. Fish bones will typically disappear completely after 36 hours, whereas beef bones will only shrink almost imperceptibly. (Beef bones can be boiled again and again to the same positive effect.) Chicken and turkey bones may look the same after 36 hours, but they can be easily squished with your fingers once properly cooked. I always do squish them in order to release the marrow inside. The frequent use of such bone broths both prevents and repairs the health challenges posed by a leaky gut.

Now let’s touch on toxicity. In this modern age, our food supply is anything but clean. From preservatives and colourings to GMOs and accumulated heavy metals, our food typically includes chemical agents which tend to accrue within our guts and bodily tissues due to prolonged and repeated exposure. We have to take proactive steps in order to periodically reduce or outright rid our bodies of these nasty agents. There are oodles of detoxification and general cleansing protocols elaborated on the internet. Find what sounds right for you and begin experimenting. Just realize that the mobilization of nasty toxins in order to usher them out of the body can result in a whole host of unpleasant detoxification symptoms. One thing to keep in mind during a cleanse is that pain associated with detox tends to move around, whereas a pain associated with an actual injury or specific health issue tends to remain very localized. A positive side-effect of cleansing is that it forces you to become more aware of the internal condition of your own body. Awareness and self-responsibility cannot be overemphasized in achieving superlative health… so this is a very good thing!

A relatively new discovery in the quest for digestive health is the positive action of coriander seed oil. Cilantro, the herb, has long been known for its chelating effect in drawing toxins out of the body. Unfortunately, the amount of cilantro required to achieve positive results in this regard is rather prohibitive. However, the seed of the cilantro herb, known commonly as coriander, has been found to be far more efficient in this regard. The cold-pressed oil is particularly efficient at drawing out heavy metal accumulations in the gut when it’s consumed. And when the oil is held under the tongue for a minute or more, its chelation action is released directly into the bloodstream through the mucous membranes of the mouth; this can effectively pull those same heavy metals and other toxins from cells throughout the body. Additionally, coriander seed oil improves the general environment of the gut, favouring conditions more conducive to the proliferation of the beneficial microflora over the decidedly pathogenic microbes. It also helps significantly with better nutrient absorption. The cold-pressed coriander seed oil that I recommend comes from Activation Products (a company worth investigating for additional health strategies.)

And lastly, I want to talk about superfoods. (If you’re one of those belligerent pinheads who says “Superfoods aren’t a real thing; that’s just a marketing term!” then feel free to substitute the term ‘nutrient-dense foods.’ No sense in compromising your health over a semantic argument!) There are many many nutrient-dense foods out there to choose from… and I’ve tried most of them. My current favourites are: spirulina, chlorella, pine pollen, marine phytoplankton, raw cacao and moringa leaf powder. These are the ones I use nearly every day. The greatest advantage of ingesting superfoods regularly relies on taking them on an empty stomach.

Surprisingly, it is not widely known that digesting a typical meal of meat, potatoes and veggies is a very energy-intensive process. (Ever wondered why large meals often make you sleepy?) In order to digest such a meal, your body needs to divert most of its blood supply to the organs of digestion, and even then– with the combining of starches and proteins– the digestive process is difficult and inefficient. Conversely, when superfoods are ingested on an empty stomach, their superlative nutrition typically requires very little in the way of digestion. Their nutrients are readily absorbable, requiring almost no alteration or breakdown. Spirulina, for instance, is up to 70% protein by weight (meat ranges between 27% and 34%, and its proteins become denatured as you cook it). The protein in spirulina is already in the form that your body requires for proper assimilation. In fact, you could smear the algae on your skin and still receive most of the nutrition it provides transdermally.

I eat my superfoods early in the day, before I have anything which could remotely be considered a regular meal. I only eat one large meal per day in the evenings– mostly for the pleasure of doing so. Prior to that satisfying meal, I’ve already ingested and assimilated all of the nutrition required through partaking of my favourite superfoods. It is a strategy which I will likely employ until the day I die– a thousand or so years hence!

Oh, and one more bonus tip… for those who have developed lactose intolerance: try organic raw dairy, if you have access to it. In Canada, we can only get organic raw milk cheeses which have been aged for 60 days or more (raw milk and butter are highly illegal– go figure!). So far, every lactose-intolerant friend who has tried the raw organic cheeses that I exclusively buy (I don’t touch the crap in the grocery stores) has found no digestive issues with these cheeses at all. In order to properly digest lactose (milk sugar), the natural enzyme lactase must be present in the product or else must be produced by the body itself. Lactose intolerance develops as the body loses its ability– through cumulatively compromised digestion– to produced adequate lactase. All enzymes are denatured (destroyed) during the pasteurization process. Raw dairy leaves these naturally-occurring enzymes intact, rendering it digestible for virtually all. Try it– with caution– and see if raw dairy is a food you might like to reintroduce.

Raw dairy products are actually highly nutritious foods which I heartily recommend, whereas pasteurized dairy is a digestive nightmare best avoided. So why don’t the stores typically sell raw organic dairy? Because that would almost assuredly spell the end for large industrial dairies. The Big Ag dairies are typically highly unsanitary, and utilize feed which is questionable at best and wholly unsuitable at worst for producing nutritious dairy products. Milk and milk products from these factory dairies has to be pasteurized in order for it to be even marginally safe for human consumption– and that renders it largely indigestible. Ironically, the dairy industry will eventually be saved by consumers realizing the incredible benefits of real dairy over the crap we’ve been fed for the last hundred years or so… and the big dairies will go kicking and screaming into the oblivion they deserve.

Astute readers will have already figured out that what is stated here for pasteurized dairy versus raw dairy also holds true for all other foods. Cooking destroys enzymes. When Nature produces anything, she always includes the enzymes necessary to break that thing down again. Cooking food denatures all of the naturally-occurring enzymes (catalytic proteins), which then places the entire burden of digestion upon the body’s ability to produce those enzymes itself. As we age, our ability to do so typically diminishes. For this reason alone, incorporating as many raw foods as possible into one’s diet is highly recommended to relieve the burden placed on the organs of digestion. 80% raw food is a good target ratio to try to achieve.

And one more thing to consider when making food choices: not only are you what you eat, but your food is what it eats too. If the meat you are buying is from animals raised on crappy unsuitable foods, then the quality of that meat will necessarily reflect that. A cow can’t magically produce nutrients in its body that are not inherent in its feed, just like a plant grown in poor depleted soil can’t contain the same nutrients as its healthy counterpart. Nutrition has to be present all the way throughout the whole food chain… starting with healthy soils. Therefore, the most nutritious food we can typically acquire is wildcrafted or foraged foods from pristine, natural settings. I forage foods every single day from the wild. The next best food comes from our own homegrown gardens. In order for that food to be superlatively nutritious however, we must be diligent in fortifying our garden soils with all of the mineral and probiotic (compost) agents required. The next best we can do is organic fruits and veggies and naturally raised meats purchased locally through our farmer’s markets. And finally the grocery store still sells a few (very few) items still worth purchasing. Consumer demand will have to reform the nightmare that is our current grocery store debacle. Virtually every processed, packaged food is crap– even before you eat it!

Well, I hope that helps.