Morning, June 1964. I am eight-and-a-half years old. School has just ended and I am snug in my bed. My windows are open and a warm and gentle breeze is ruffling my curtains. I can hear my dad out in the fields plowing with his little Farmall Cub, and it must be laundry day because I can also hear the wringer washer chugging away in the basement. Oh good! I will get up. I love to hang laundry. The sun is warm, the sky is blue and everything is so fresh and clean. The leaves smell good, the grass smells good, and the freshly plowed soil is rich and fragrant. The birds are singing and everything is peaceful. We don’t have much money, but we have what we need.

And then I wake up. It is June, 2014. Good God, what in the hell has happened in fifty years? What have we done? Who has done this to us? And how did we become so selfish, corrupted, ignorant, irresponsible, but most of all, gullible to every lie we are fed by those who not only do not have good intentions toward us and the planet, but have been biding their time over centuries to take over control of our Earth. The devil whispered in our ears and said “money, money, money” and we consented to brain-washing, dumbing-down, and devolution for our monetary reward. We mortgaged our souls to the devil and now the loan is due. Foreclosure is imminent, and the Earth herself is our collateral. We have sold out the very womb that gave us life, turning a blind eye to the atrocities, refusing to “rock the boat” as my one friend says, because then our lives might be “uncomfortable.” Honey, discomfort ain’t nothin’ compared to what’s coming.

I have always loved Northeast Ohio. While I maybe didn’t always like the weather, at least it was predictable. Seasons were defined. One knew what season it was by the weather. Springs were warm and balmy—that not-too-hot, not-too-cold type of weather. The days were already filled with sunshine and big puffy clouds, and in the evenings we could sit out on the porch and feel that gentle and warm breeze welcoming the first of the southern air. Rain prepared the earth for growth, and when it was done, the sun came out again.

Summers could and usually did get hot and uncomfortably muggy. But except for rare exceptional years, there was always a perfect balance between wet and dry. Daytime heating often brought a brief rainstorm. The skies would darken, the wind would blow, and down it would come. Everything got refreshed, The earth had her own thermostat that cooled things down when needed. The plants were happy, and by the next morning, had grown six inches.

By fall, the air was beginning to get crisp. Days were warm and sunny, and nights, frosty. It rained, of course, but never, ever these dark days, one after another. By November, the snow had begun to fall, and we could usually count on it covering the ground until at least March. But even in the winter, the sun shone gloriously, making for lots of playtime in the snow and huge icicles to pluck. I spent a good part of my time making igloos, and I don’t ever remember doing it in the dark. Days were light, even in the dead of winter.

It was a beautiful, glorious pattern, a work of art, courtesy of our Mother. It supported life. Plants grew easily. We produced so much food, we couldn’t give it away fast enough. People grew, and for the most part, were healthy. There was a sense of support. I always felt better when I could confer with Mother Nature. When I was down about something, I took a walk back in the woods. It always helped.

The sixties brought the War in Vietnam, and an innocence was lost. Hippies had the right idea about love and peace, but too many were hypocrites that became the Yuppies of the seventies. Population growth accelerated, and money, progress, expansion and development took precedence over taking care of the land that nurtured us. People wanted to live in the cities, and the farms were sold. I left here to attend college in 1974, first at Heidelberg, Tiffin, Ohio, then on to my Master’s at The University if Cincinnati’s College-Conservatory of Music (CCM).

Living in the big city was cool at first for a little country girl, but the novel wore off real fast, and, though I stayed there seven-and-a-half years, I was ready to come back to the farm way before that. When I did return, it was July 1, 1986. And I couldn’t believe what I had returned to.

Houses had gone up everywhere, and farms had vanished replaced by developments and just too damn many people. Too many cars, too many businesses, too much industry. And gas-well pumps were everywhere. That beautiful Northeast Ohio weather had vanished, also. There was something wrong, but I couldn’t pin-point it at first.

Though I stayed in music for twenty-one years, my passion was farming. By 1987, I began planting again, but everything had changed. The earth no longer brought forth her bounty. Weeds and slugs and bugs abounded and growing became a struggle. Then in 1988, that horrendous drought hit. Never, ever in all my years in Ohio have I seen anything like it. The temperatures were up in the hundreds for days on end, and we didn’t get a drop of rain all summer. The hand-dug well ran dry, and we were without running water for eight months. When I was a child, we ran that well dry, all the time watering the gardens, but in a few hours, it filled up again. But not his time. We finally had another well drilled, but the water is terrible and I refuse to drink it. Eventually, of course, the hand-dug well filled up again, and that is still the water I drink and give to my animals. But this was the eye-opener to me. I knew that something had drastically shifted on the planet, and I knew it was because of our ignorance and selfish behavior.

Each year, the weather patterns became more and more bizarre. In 1994, I began keeping notebooks of weather data, which I still do.

In the mid 1990s I officially opened Cosmic Dream Farm and Greenhouse. And it was also at this time that I began to go around doing public speaking. My mantra became thus: “Unless we voluntarily stop abusing this planet, we will be involuntarily stopped. This, of course, was before most people were aware of chemtrails, including myself, and they certainly were less obvious. But I focused on what was obvious: The fact that land that is torn up, covered with parking lots, buildings, asphalt and concrete can no longer be used to grow food, and when there is no place to grow food, where will food come from? I remember speaking with a person that told me of an experiment to bring fresh vegetables to inner city elementary schools. The children were asked if they knew where food came from, and most of them answered “from a can.” They were shocked to see Brussels Sprouts on the stem. They had no idea that vegetables were live, growing plants.

And there were other things I spoke of, too. This is when GMOs first began to show up in the public’s eye. The wanton destruction of the rainforests were getting lots of publicity, too, with the massive impact this was having on the environment at the global level. It was at this time that I read one of my all-time favorite books, Andy Lee’s Chicken Tractor. It came along with me every place I spoke. In this book, Lee makes a pretty convincing case on how to turn fertile farmland into a desert wasteland: Overpopulation, overdevelopment and abusive farming methods.

It was that third one that I really hooked on to, as I saw family farms being eaten up by agribusiness, land now owned by Wall Street brokers, who had most likely never set foot in a farm field in their life. Land was over plowed, never crop-rotated, and the fields filled with more and more fertilizer and stronger and more lethal pesticides and herbicides. Monsanto became a household name. This, in my opinion, was the point of our Mother’s first real death-pangs. Like a person who has been filled with too many antibiotics and toxic drugs, their body loses all its natural strength and immunity, which of course requires stronger and stronger doses of drugs. Like attempting to squeeze blood from a turnip, the fields, now devoid of any natural life, had to rely on artificial means to yield anything at all. Of course, the 1990s was an age of seemingly unstoppable financial growth, greed, and, for those on the “upwardly mobile” path, a new and disturbing level of absolute apathy toward anything that did not benefit their own agenda. Honesty and integrity became obsolete. Not only was our Mother dying of starvation and deprivation, she had been raped and sold into prostitution.

After so many years of trying to wake the public up, I found myself in a situation barely able to keep my head above water, and I am still there to this date. And it was also at this time that I began to energetically see something more horrifying than anything seen thus far. As a Shaman, I am a clairsentient. Unlike clairvoyants or clairaudients, I don’t see or hear non-physical energies or entities, but I read them with my body, and they are translated as a symbol which I then interpret through my conscious mind. Everywhere I looked where “nature” had previously been vibrant, all I saw was death. It is like looking at a person without an aura. Mother’s aura had disappeared. Trees, grass, flowers—they were all there, but their spirit was not. It is said that before a person dies, their soul departs. With the planet, the process has taken longer than with a human or animal, but indeed, trees are now physically dying fast, toxic and invasive weeds have taken over where nature was previously in balance, and food production gets more and more difficult each year.

I am not sure how long it has been since I have started observing chemtrails, but Dane Wigington’s illuminating website GeoEngineering Watch has filled in all the missing pieces of the puzzle. I really hate the phrase “beating a dead horse,” but somehow it seems so appropriate here. As if all our centuries of abuse to this planet (dating back to ancient wars and bloodshed committed on her body), to our modern industrial revolution and irresponsibilities as stated above weren’t enough to slaughter our poor Mother and kill her with grief for all these atrocities, we have this all out weather warfare game being played that has most nearly wiped out any chance of saving her before the final breath. And as if killing her wasn’t bad enough, we have mutilated and dismembered her as well. We have ripped her asunder from the very entity that gave her life: the Sun in perfect balance.

Last year I had total crop loss in tomatoes. We just never got enough sunshine. Tomatoes need lots of sun. I used to be called “The Tomato Lady” at farmers’ markets because I produced the coolest tomatoes, and lots of them. For several years, I have barely been able to produce summer squash. I am not alone. That is a crop that is normally so prolific that one plant alone should produce volumes. People have said it is because of the declining bee population, but actually here, I’m good with bees. It is the sun. Sun brings forth life, and the chemtrails are blocking it, at least here in Ohio. But in other places on the planet, the ozone has been so destroyed that the sun is literally frying the earth.

Not to mention, of course that the air, soil, and water are so toxic now, between the chemtrails, Fukushima, and fracking, that the beneficial microorganisms can no longer survive. They are what breaks down the nutrients in soil to make it accessible to plants. How are we to grow food if the soil, water, and air are too contaminated to support growth? How are we to even live? We will not, nor do we deserve to.

In Dane Wigington’s recent interview with Jeff Rense, Dane makes the point that people like to blame corporations for the catastrophic situation in which we find ourselves. And obviously, geoengineering has speeded up the deterioration of an already damaged planet. But it is we, humanity, who are to blame for our selfishness and irresponsibility. Here is a quote by Jeff from this interview. Dane agreed with him and so do I:

“I’m sure that over time the planet could heal itself, but it would have to be done without the intervention of the so-called sentient beings that we are; we aren’t, we are not a good caretaker species, in fact we are so negligent and so destructive, we really ought to be kicked off the planet feet first or otherwise. It’s not something that we deserve.”

Humanity.

That used to be a label for a species that had evolved beyond the “lower forms” of life.
Ha! I’m not sure how much lower we can go.

I don’t know any animals that are as greedy, selfish, stupid, wasteful, irresponsible and apathetic toward the womb that nourishes them. I can’t imagine any animal ever throwing away food.Throwing away food!! That is a foreign concept to me—unimaginable! And yet the amount of food Americans throw away could feed all the starving people in the rest of the world. Ah, lots of people have some hard lessons to learn, and learn they will, I promise.

I don’t know any animals that are so filled with “self” and their own personal agenda that they destroy everything and everyone that gets in the way of whatever they happen to want.

I don’t know any animal that is so totally unaware of its surroundings as the human species. They say that the difference between humans and animals is that humans are conscious. Here in 2014, my personal observation is that humans are one of the most unconscious species on the face of the earth. We seem incapable to notice that our very existence is on the precipice of total and imminent collapse. We can’t even look up in the sky and see the poisons being blatantly sprayed on us. We don’t even notice that the skies are dark and sunless any more, even now in summer. WE LIVE HERE, HOW CAN WE POSSIBLY NOT NOTICE WHAT IS SO OBVIOUS? If we were in bed and someone yelled “FIRE” would we run out of the house or ignore it?

We spend our lives drugged and happy. Give us sex and gadgets and as much money as we can possibly squeeze out of the system and we’re happy as a pig in shit. No worries. Life is good.

I don’t know any animal that purposely abuses other animals out of meanness and the obsession to control. Or the most despicable reason yet: because they find it amusing.

Most animals have a longer attention span than most people do these days. I can pet my cats and dogs for fifteen minutes during which time they focus solely on me. I talk to most people for about twenty seconds, and their mind is already wandering.

We are nothing but parasites that have killed our very host.
Let us mourn the death of our Mother.
Our day of reckoning has arrived.
Laughing Crow is a modern-day Shaman
who has been immersed in the study of
metaphysics for over 30 years. She is an
organic farmer, environmentalist, animal
rights activist, artist, and holistic healer,
(and a little bit of a geek).

Source: Cosmic Dream