As One Earth: A DOSE OF REALITY heralds AN ALTERNATIVE CURRENCY

The truth about the nature of reality is up for grabs. What we believe is real is what's real to us. So if we don't much care for the nature of our reality it only makes sense to question what we believe, and consider there might be some form of external stimulus at work intent on influencing our systems of belief. After all, knowing this, anyone interested in global power would take advantage of such a potential as soon as they realized they could.

In the world we inhabit today, one of the most influenced and most influential 'realities' we believe in is the necessity and power of money. But what is money really? What exactly does it represent? And what does that mean to us? And, if it's not used with integrity, does it really matter?

So I was listening to a radio show called Dose of Reality for the first time in a while last night. I hadn't had the opportunity for a variety of reasons, which is a shame.

A REFRESHING DOSE OF REALITY

Dose of Reality is hosted in the broad-accent of a New England dad who goes by the name of Brian Staveley, along with his able friend and colleague, Justin Cooke. They sound like they're 30-something going on curious-and-wise, whatever age that's supposed to happen.

Now I'm not gonna pretend this show ain't a little rough. It's often filled with the kind of technical glitches typical of 'amateur' online radio hosts, including the pregnant silence of someone's muted mike or a dropped call. Although really, how sincere but unpaid activities are labeled with a derogatory term while those who sell themselves for profit are lionized is unfathomable, if you take the time to think about it. But anyway, me being me, that's one of the reasons I really like it. It's real. And if you like that sort of thing too, then you might enjoy this one. [Show archives available here: http://www.therealnewsonline.com/radio-archive.html]

These guys are patient and civil with each other and their guests, unlike most of the paid talking-head muppets so many of us seem to enjoy looking up to who create dissension and controversy to bulk up their ratings. It makes a nice change. They just laugh at the vagaries of their equipment without blaming the powers-that-wannabe who very well might be messing with them because they don't buy the party line or even drink from the same punchbowl. They're almost invariably magnanimous and grateful in their attitude too. They don't lose it very often, but when they do you just wonder why it took them so long.

Staveley and Cooke appreciate their guests and audience alike, speaking in tones of genuine simplicity. But don't let that fool you into thinking they're simple. There's a sincere capacity to comprehend many of the finer points missed elsewhere evident beneath the sometimes halting speech, and a breadth of knowledge between them that's often decidedly impressive. Unlike many of us, they know how to put two and two together and then connect the dots. They ask the kinds of questions I come up with and sometimes even before I come up with them.

I've become increasingly jaded about the potential for truth in anything that's done too well these days anyway. I find myself ever more suspicious of any sort of slick production. I can smell the moneyed influence behind it all, even through the good cheer and rank blue-vein cheese. They remind me too much of the smooth deception we all got so used to being sucked in with while we were asleep to the nefarious plans of a self-appointed few madmen—when we naively trusted 'them,' assuming they were just like us only better since they had more than we did. It never occurred to most of us they accumulated it the wrong way—by outright or subtle forms of theft and coercion, or worse.

Besides, I actually enjoy the noise of pots rattling in the background and papers shuffling. They sound just like me then: real people with real lives doing dishes after dinner and making coffee to stay awake in the wee hours while the kids sleep soundly in their beds. It's reassuring.

I'm not put off by the rough and unsteady audio either. Besides, their apologies seem heartfelt. Instead it reminds me of the intense commitment that brings it this me. See these guys aren't getting paid by anyone to do it: no sponsors, no advertisers, no donations even. It's a strictly basement deal run from a corner of their living rooms. I figure they could both do with new computers.

Justin and Brian want to make a difference that's all, and so, squashed between their 'real jobs' and the ordinary reality of lives to be lived as best they can under trying circumstances, they bother to pay for and host a radio show for the rest of us. All they want to do is share their hard-won insights. I appreciate the integrity of that and so it speaks far, far louder to me than the smooth operations of a professionally funded show. Like I said, I'm just suspicious of all that kind of programming anymore, no matter how well-intentioned it might appear to be. That's the price you pay for losing faith in the establishment I suppose.

Paradoxically, the heart of Dose of Reality is in its guts. Staveley and Cooke aren't afraid to bring up issues others might consider so outrageous they don't want to risk their reputations or the distinct chance they might be considered flakes. But make no mistake, these guys are certainly not that.

We're not talking reptilian monarchies and woo-woo ascendency here, although they may very believe in that (such possibilities have become pretty orthodox inside the fringe by now anyway), but much more mundane ideas; important stuff like exactly how much of our so-called 'news' footage is not only not filmed on location as it purports to be—and performed by paid actors—but CGI to boot. They have a whole new take on what we like to call 'reality.' They may be wrong in some key ways (though I'm certainly not saying they are), but at least they have the balls to question everything. They're even willing to admit when they're wrong. Now that's a rare talent.

SOME INTERESTING CLUES

As I recall, it started with the scrupulous analysis of a now-infamous video called September Clues. This movie questions whether any real planes ever did hit the WTC on 9/11. I know, I know, it's sacrilege. But try to leave your nationalistic patriot hats on their stand for a bit if you possibly can and wait a moment before jumping to conclusions. There'll be plenty of opportunity to put them back on if you feel the call.

Of course we can easily determine nothing of the sort hit the Pentagon—the lack of even the merest trace of an aircraft or stray fragment of a seat tray, or any beaten-up luggage or blown-out briefcase documents, let alone the complete absence of bodies, puts paid to that chimera in an instant. (But then the same can be said of the Shanksville site in Pennsylvania as soon as you discover the old satellite images floating round the net that show this exact spot had the same gash in it long before 2001, just without the smoke-screened ashy layer and that conveniently locatable black box.) Well, it should be obvious, unless of course your corporo-political programming is still on full throttle.

Sadly though, the 'beauty' of the diabolical system we've become ensnared in is that if that's the case you probably won't be able to tell. The only way really is to gauge resistance to apparently outlandish concepts. The higher that is the more likely we're still under its dark spell. Sorry for the bad news guys. I'm just saying.

Anyway, all that's before you take a look at the one piece of CCTV footage that managed to make its way mysteriously out of the vast vaults of vital evidence guarded by the omnipresent minions of the so-called 'dark cabal' that swallowed up all other such footage before any of us could even take a breath and whisper, "WTF?" You know, the stuff that didn't even make it into the hallowed halls of Congress where some appropriately appointed suits apparently tried earnestly to determine what really went on. Well, OK. That's all right then. I'm sure they got all the information they needed to get the good job done.

So this rare piece shows absolutely no plane performed the impossible turns required to crash-land there and create an inexplicable hole in the coincidentally 'empty' wing of the most guarded building on the planet. Aside, of course, from some rather damning records, just like in Building 7 of the WTC. We won't go into all the details here though; there are just too many of them frankly and that entire debate has become a bit of a bore in my better-occupied mind.

Once you start looking see, the fact shenanigans went on is all just so plain obvious that the "WTF?" you never got to finish isn't remotely sufficient any more. And simply understanding there was a humongous swindle of any kind ought to be enough on its own. After you figure that easy one out there are greater fish to fry. We have remedies and solutions to uncover.

So after they took a pretty good look at the 9/11 farce Staveley and Cooke progressed to the fascinating notion of a Moon-landing hoax, whose evidence mounts up embarrassingly quickly as well. Check it out. Whatever's going on, what we can say for sure is, something's up.

Now I always loved the idea that we made it to the moon in a hokey little tin can using a computer orders of magnitude smaller than the cheapest thumb drive we could buy at some dollar store or other years ago now, all the while traversing the Van Allen radiation belt with an irreligious thumb stuck out to the physics god, and I didn't really want to let go of my little dream. I liked my unlikely heroes.

But I'm also willing to entertain the very real possibility this great feat was all staged. If only because the astronauts involved are so uneasy talking about what they're supposed to have accomplished as soon as anyone starts asking awkward questions—which of course you would be if you were part of what's arguably the greatest feat in human history—and the list of interviews by the largest hero, Neil Armstrong, can be counted on round about one finger, or so I understand. (Well, maybe we missed one, so make that two fingers.)

I also have suspicions because clearly so much of what we see is crafted and staged. I mean, how easy would that have been to accomplish, really? We were so naïve back then sitting in front of our black-and-whites chuffing down those TV dinners that turned out to be so good for us (or something) that we were cute. We probably still are.

Anyhow, I can still love the idea of it all without being suckered by a fallacy. I'm up for that. We may very well have been to the Moon (I'm willing to risk a bet we probably have), and Mars for that matter. We might even have bases on one or the other of them. Or someone else does. But if we did go—and probably still do then—I realize now it's actually a lot more likely we accomplish all of it through time-and-space portal jump gates.

Whether Staveley and Cooke are right or not on every detail or any of them I don't know, and to be honest I don't really care. I'm gonna listen with my usual skepticism anyway. I can't help that, nor would I want to. It's the idea itself that has such titanic legs.

We accept CGI in mainstream movies all the time without a second thought, not even realizing almost every single frame is full of it no matter how pedestrian the scene, but for some unfathomable reason the idea they could use the same technology 'in the real world' is anathema to us. Because of course that makes so much sense—you know, that they'd have or show the kind of integrity required to keep reality and fiction separate. Or not.

Truth is, we can't really say whether what we see on TV, presented with such devotion as "just the facts, ma'am," is entirely manufactured BS or just partly so. We got producers, directors, writers and players to thank for these grand productions for a start (to prove the latter)—even with the news. Check out the credits if that seems too much of a stretch. The fact that it's definitely at least that much ought to be excruciatingly clear to anyone who doesn't have their eyes stapled shut.

Evidence of the game we're being played at is everywhere, but still so many of us are content to plant our starched asses down on the couch like that proverbial potato and allow the programming to repeat, and repeat, and repeat, until it is our reality. I mean seriously, with all the words in the world to use or make up, they called it 'programming' people! How in-your-face can you get? Nope, that's about it.

They're so confident about our inanity and gullibility they aren't the least bit shy of calling it what it is. The mind boggles, and wobbles, and then wants to explode just to shake us out of our torpor. I keep imagining our higher selves wishing they could reach down into the darkness of our density and beat us round the head with baseball bats, if only their compassion and unconditional love would let them do it. And still we sit, and watch, and even bother to expend our valuable energy debating the facile issues they sidetrack us all with. Amazing. Truly.

When I'm not feeling frustrated, resentful or angry I laugh about it. Long and loud and hard. From a certain point of view it really is that funny. Well, in a Dad's Army sort of way. So at least there's one good thing about it I suppose. No wonder the self-anointed 'illuminated ones' are laughing their short way to the bank. Hell, maybe they really are illuminated after all. More than us anyway, but then in most cases that's not saying very much. It's a decidedly left-handed compliment, and I'm sorry for that.

The implications for this mass distortion are enormous though. It means that whatever makes it from a network news desk to the homey comfort of your TV screen is entirely suspect. And not just the presentation anymore but the incidents themselves. Think about it. You pay out-of-work actors to cry incoherently where you can't find convincing dupes, mind-controlled slaves or blackmail recipients to do it. Throw in some CGI and the rest becomes history. Literally. After all, seeing is believing, right? It's just all too easy, and cheap at far less than half the price too. But not for us. We pay interest on our blind trust.

Now I'm not saying all the tales they report are fictitious all the way round. No, no, no. The best way to get away with this would be to serve it up on a carrier wave of truth. That way the denizens of Doubtsville and more-hesitant part-time skeptics too can be painted as retards and lunatics as soon as they question the veracity of the one detail that can make it through their it-really-happened filter. Our propensity for throwing the baby out with the poopy bathwater plays right into their hands.

We bandy the term spin-doctor around so frequently these days too thanks to their efforts to popularize the term that the idea itself has become so pedestrian we don't give any real thought to what it means. Instead we think its cool or something. Yeah, sure, it's totally cool to twist the truth so it has no greater relationship to it than a boil on a monkey's bum has to the rings of Saturn. On second thoughts there might be more going on there than we care to look at too.

So here we go again, falling like dispossessed limpets into a laboratory tidal pool of misinformed insistence that leaves us clinging to the toxic rock of our certain deception, only to label ourselves unwittingly as willing suckers. Oh yes, they're masters of these unreality shows.

But we can always change our minds. Never forget that. It's a life-saving talent.

TAKING AN ACTIVE INTEREST IN CURRENCY

Well in any case, back to the business at hand. Last night I listened to a recently archived show with a guest who introduced an entirely different point, but it's one that's definitely related in its use of legerdemain. (Don't we love our magic shows?) The item up for discussion was a fundamental issue of physics, and economics: currency.

See, while we're busy going off the rails with our conspiracy theories and how we love to hate 'em—or hate to love 'em—it's hard not to miss the bigger picture that shows us what we can do about it all.

Now Brian and Justin's guest on this occasion was Wayne Walton, and his specific take on the vital function of currency was strictly related to our money supply. [Do yourself a really big favor and check out this site with a post written by Wayne that details the inevitable evils and fraud of USURY. It's a good starting point and useful even if you don't go any further in your understanding. That's why I'm calling it a MUST SEE: usuryfree.blogspot.com: Wayne Walton writes about his awakening]

So ask yourself this question if you can muster up the courage: how well's that money supply thing going for you?

Are you feeling the love? Is the flow of abundance making its happy way into your joy-filled life? Do you feel rewarded for all your hard work living here? Are you now worry-free? Yes? No? Ah well then, maybe we need to ask what happened to the flow. All that money they created out of thin air must be going somewhere, if it ever existed in the second place.

Of course whether it still is or ever was around in any form we could meaningfully call 'real,' we're all paying for it anyway, still. And so will our great-great-great-great grandchildren unless we leave them a legacy of even the least morsel of giving a crap. And on that account there's a particularly important issue we need to look at that shows us the reality of why we're in the fiscal and moral mess we're in and why it's certain that, even once we think we're out of it, we're going back again. Usury.

Now it's probably fair to say most of us haven't a clue about usury. We likely just think it's interest we pay so someone will bother loaning us money. It's not. Usury is a system; and it's no less cooked than the casino you or someone you know of lost everything in or the lottery the price of that ticket you clutch so desperately and hopefully will cost you, or everybody else if you happen to win. Once you're in this system you're stuck—fast. And if you're alive right now you are.

Briefly, here's what's up, or rather here's what's going down.

So we probably know by now that the Central/Reserve Banking system installed around the world prints our money. And yeah, out of thin air. But that's not the worst of it. Not by a long shot. The problem is that when they do that, they create a little something extra. That added bonus is called interest. But it's not a bonus for us. I'm guessing it's why they call themselves 'Reserve.' They always reserve a little something for them. And 'central,' because the long view is to centralize all the wealth and well-being we create into their already bloated coffers. But actually, it's more a lot of something, which turns out to be nothing more than the entire labor of our lives.

See the printers have a great interest in printing our money. Why? Because this single act is the foundation of their fiscal power over us. The reason for this is that when they hand it over and we agree to take—or use it for that matter, even if we didn't 'borrow' it ourselves—we're buying into a debt. And that 'bonus' we just talked about is unpayable. Ever.

"Look, if I work hard enough I can pay it off," you might state emphatically, believing in your own industry and committed personality. Well, maybe you can pay off your 'portion,' but somewhere someone can't. And it's not because they're lazy.

We need to understand a fundamental flaw in the system before we can ever talk intelligently about it. We need to understand the set-up. And the set-up is that when these Central Banks print our money and give it to us, it's a loan. Let's look at the math to see how this works. Don't worry, if you made it through 3rd grade you can figure this out. And maybe even if you didn't.

Let's start at the beginning, with nothing. There's no money, no where. And let's also say they print off ten bucks, just to keep things simple, and the 'interest' is ten percent. So for that ten bucks they 'bother' to print off for us that we receive, we now owe eleven. OK, we'll just work hard and then at some future point in time we'll give them back the ten we have in our hands along with the extra one they deserve for their trouble and faith in us. Sounds great.

But think about this for a minute. At this stage that ten bucks is all the money in the world, right? We started at the very beginning remember, with nothing. So that's all the money that exists right now. Got it? Has the penny dropped yet? Probably not. We're so blinkered it's hard to see. Until you get it that is. Then you realize how little you got for that generous loan. And how much less your children will have as soon as they buy into the system too. To do that we need to focus very intently on just one thing: the nature of the transaction.

So let's recap: we borrow ten bucks and then instantly owe eleven. But all the money in the world amounts to only ten. So where are you ever going to get that extra dollar from? The dollar tree store? Nope. That's counterfeiting and they made some nice and beefy sanctions for that one. Of course they did. That extra dollar doesn't exist.

The truth is the only way to get another dollar is to have the same printers print it—or enter it on a computer screen, in which case they don't even have to bother with the cost of making it, or pay for guards and vans and gas to haul it around. And as soon as they do and you get it in your hot little hands you owe them ten percent on it. So even if you hand it right back you still owe them ten cents, and now you got nothing, and no way to pay it either.

Even after you pay them back the tenner plus the extra 'interesting' one you owe them along with it, you still need to come up with that also-non-existent 'ten percent' on that 'interesting' dollar. And now you got no goods to boot—you had to sell them to rake up the ten bucks. Still not sure? OK, how were they paid for in the first place? (And someone's gonna pay for it, even if it's not you.) No food; same thing. No shelter, no clothes, no car, no nothing. Less than nothing because what you do have is a debt to pay. You got no ten dollars, no one dollar, and certainly not the ten cents you still owe 'em. That still doesn't exist.

Now, think about the numbers again. This time think about the numbers of dollars (or whatever) floating round the world, trillions of it stuffed in minute quantities into back pockets and purses, in store cash drawers, and even hiding under mattresses. In our simplistic example, for every buck out there—including all that money you think you own in your bank account, retirement fund, investment stocks, or even parked offshore somewhere—ten percent is still owed to the printers. Ten percent of something we might as well call everything; and that ten percent doesn't exist.

As long as there's any of their money in circulation, ten percent of it is owed; and even after it's all given back. Ten percent that doesn't exist. Are we getting it yet? It doesn't exist and it can't exist until the printers print it off for you and then you still owe more than you got. So even if you manage to pay off all your debts, someone somewhere is going to have to pay. And how does that create security for you?

When that person who's left holding the empty and demanding bag comes looking for food or shelter or medicine for their injured child, how will you look them in the eyes? And what will you say? Get a job you lazy bum? We can all get ahead if we just work hard enough, so you just screwed up that's all? What? And if they rob you because they're starving or whatever, how will you react? Oh yeah, sure, just call the cops. They'll find him, arrest him, convict him, lock him up and you'll get your hard-earned money back. That's it then. Problem solved. Moving right along...

Then you get socked for more taxes so you can pay for his food, for the policeman and the jailers, the court system and the legislators, oh, and the construction companies that built all the facilities these stalwart members of society do their business in—and all of it takes money. Lots of money. Money the printers get to print. It's based on our activity and no matter how active we are we owe them "ten percent." In fact, the more active we are the more we owe 'em. Go figure. It's a great scheme. Just not for us.

And so we pass the problem around and around again and again. But don't worry, it will come back.

Well, in any case, since this beggar or robber can't get ahead, or rather, even if by some miracle he does, someone else can't: we're always left with someone holding the bag. And they created all this out of thin air. A debt we can never pay.

But we do have our lives and our future labor. We can pay with that, right? No. For as long as we live and even after we die, we still owe that ten percent. Or as we should say, now our children do. And they can't ever pay it either. So what we're left with, and I hate to be the one to tell you this but someone has to, is a planet full of unpayable debt.

That makes every single one of us who uses their money an indentured servant. And that's what we call a money slave.

THE TRUE SPIRIT OF CURRENCY

For so very long now there has been and still is a global push to make sure the indigenous peoples of this Earth are subsumed into the system too; often in the guise of bringing them up to speed with the 'privilege' the rest of us 'enjoy'—as we've been told. We're supposed to feel sorry for them.

It's not just their wisdom about the mystical awareness of the unseen dimensions we're all a part of the printers want to eradicate, although that's possibly dangerous enough right there since at the very least it points a rude finger indirectly at the slave market we've been unwittingly caught up in. It's also because an unindentured human is as good as dead to this parasitic system. So their death becomes a natural 'solution' to the problem. What a surprise.

And furthermore, if we cotton on to the true freedom they enjoy in their so-called 'poverty,' it might just give the rest of us ideas. Hell, they might appear to have nothing to us, but for all our appearances we can't help but have even less than that.

There are very good reasons why usury has been and, ironically, in most places on Earth (including those countries that support it), still is held to be 'illegal.' It's why Jesus finally got angry, upset the tables, and threw the moneylenders out of the temple. In this story, the temple represents the Kingdom of Creation, and claiming a lien on life therein must surely be the highest insult to the Creator ever dreamed up.

See, whatever ideas we hold about 'God,' or believe we don't for that matter, whatever ultimate source created and sustains us and everything else as well (including the printers), must be due the proceeds, activities and experience of our lives, not some sub-component wannabes intent on tricking us into falling for their ruse.

In the end we do the greatest disservice and show the greatest dishonor to the mysterious source of All That Is, whatever name we might choose to give it, if we don't free ourselves from the artificial prison of this 'obligation' once we see it.

We don't just owe our freedom to ourselves you see, or our children either (although that ought to be a pretty good reason to do something about it all right there), but to 'God' itself. We're obliged to do this. Truly. And we're well and truly stuck here until we do. Probably no matter what any channeled wisdom or benevolent alien tells us.

So, isn't it time we realized this issue lies at the very heart of the process we call 'ascension' and bother to figure out where all that manufactured 'money' and its inevitably unpayable debt went, and more importantly too, what that actually means and what we can do about it?

You see, without resolving this dilemma, no manner of hearty proclamations about unconditional love and caring, about compassion and sharing, will work—as useful and vital as they are. They'll remain mere ideals see, unable to be materialized because the moneylenders who steal the very currency of All That Is will still rule these realms. We don't escape this then, we transform it.

Is it time to sort this big fat mess out once and for all? Yeah. I reckon. And if I may be so bold, so should you.

Now, we could follow the money easily enough, except all the tracks are obscured by arcane terms even those who buy and sell the stuff, or derivatives of it, don't really understand. We need to navigate the labyrinthine trails they've laid with an almost incorporeal ability to hide behind the layers of their corporate logos too, interestingly enough. So good luck with that. Besides, if we're really looking for nothing after all, how will we ever find it? Yeah, they been that smart. We have to give 'em that.

So how do we sort this out then?

Well, quite simply we can all declare ourselves free of the entirely illegal and morally bankrupt debt. That would wipe the slates clean in one fell swoop. Of course that would also take a global consensus we're not exactly in a position to claim right now—what with all the divides and mistrust placed so handily between us, and then maintained by us all over the long haul with guns trained on each other. Yeah, no doubt. We'd find ourselves mired in a soup of suspicion quicker than we could lick a malingering drop off the spoon.

All that divide and conquer business we keep buying? It's real expensive, just so you know. Let's notice how it works again.

Hook: accepted.
Line: yep, we keep drawing 'em.
Sinker: and down we go. See ya!

And because we fell for the old bait-and-switch routine so hard and don't seem to want to let go, first we need to rebuild the trust we've lost, both in ourselves and with each other, one community at a time and then join them all together too, before that declaration of freedom will hold true. While we can still do that, in any given moment, until we find the necessary courage to make it happen—each and every one of us—we need to find an alternate route. So we formulate a backup plan that also serves as a stimulant.

In that vein, Walton talked about how to do the same thing ourselves, without the fine print we haven't been able to read, because until we do grow up enough to trust ourselves and each other again, money comes in handy. It helps us trade the things we do and make with disparate things that others do and make. It helps us keep track of our exchanges so nobody gets ripped off.

So he told us we can make money up out of thin air just like they did. Except we make it up without the inbuilt debt. In this scenario, a buck equals a buck and always will, with no "ten percent" added as a 'bonus' debt. Or is that a bogus debt? You decide.

At first, though I liked the idea—a lot—I must admit I just couldn't quite wrap my head around it. See, doing the same garbage 'they' do (even without the inbuilt debt) doesn't generally sound like that great of an idea to me, as tantalizing as it all is. (After all, who hasn't dreamed of a money tree?) But then he explained something else that's really important, and so it started making all the sense in the world.

He said money has no value, in and of itself. Well I know, we probably all got a handle on that little nugget by now (I hope) so this wasn't the big idea that got my attention. No, it was what he said after that that began the prosaic process of sinking something useful into this numb skull.

THE REAL GOLD STANDARD

Notice how all kinds of well-meaning people (or otherwise) are pushing the old gold standard these days, as many of us are probably already well aware. In contrast to the fiat system we currently use this sounds like a really good idea. At least we can hold gold in our hot little hands and feel like something's actually there, right? It's gotta be better than thin air.

Unfortunately though (can you see this coming?), as soon as we convert that gold into the bogus money we all use, we just bought ourselves that bonus debt as well. But on top of that, he said, gold has no 'real' value either.

Well sure, we can use gold for things (pretty jewelry, plated faucets and electronics for instance, it's a super conductor among other things), but not so much to accommodate its current price (and that, we should take the time to mention here, includes not only the number of zeros slung at its trading value but also the lives lost or still suffering as we dig it up). And the same thing goes for any other 'thing' we might think about basing our currency on.

No. What has the most value, Walton said, is us—well, our time, effort, imagination and labor, to put it even more succinctly. It's what we do that creates 'real' value not the stuff we make things out of. And that's what the printers know already. We are the masters and that material is what we work with, that's all. Now let's think about that for a moment. Because it's just all too easy to start arguing against the idea.

Without our ability to dig things up or plant them, harvest them, process them, make other things out of them—food even—the things themselves just sit there. Sure they have potential, but it's us and our effort that makes that potential real. Without our industry, without our imagination and activity, everything inert just sits there—being what it is. Which is fine of course, but not entirely appreciable on an economic level.

The next thing to take note of is how this whole gold thing, acting as a standard for us to measure the worth of the planet by, is FINITE (as is every other 'thing' we might decide to use). You heard that right. And when something's finite that has a definite bearing on growth potential, believe it or not. (Yes, that was a dumb joke.)

So unless we got some machine already, gathering dust and conveniently buried on some patent office shelf somewhere maybe that makes whatever we want from the quantum foam, then once that last ounce is dug up there isn't any more. And do we really need to mention that if we had one of those dohickies we wouldn't need to slave our lives away for any kind of money? Such a fine piece of equipment would render all that obsolete.

Now, back to our exploration of finity. What happens when that last nugget or flake of gold dust comes up do you think? Will some sort of massive global correction be on order, or what? Hmm.

On the other hand, our supply of human ingenuity and endeavor NEVER EVER RUNS OUT. Well, not as long as we're alive anyway. That makes it infinite for all practical purposes. Now all of a sudden human life is worth exactly what it should be and that finite pie we've all been arguing so lethally about for so bloody long (literally) becomes just as expansive as we can be bothered to make it.

Can you imagine what an infinite supply of 'money' looks like? Feels like? Works like? Me neither. But it sure is fun trying.

The Flow of Infinite Money?

One thing I can't imagine is that it would be any worse than what we have right now: all the fake boom-bust cycles these Mensa nitwits fabricate so they can tell everyone they're floating on top due to the natural consistency of their own cream, and they most certainly are not skimming it off of us as they appear to be doing. One way or another (or any way they can conjure 'up') they have to work very hard to stay all the way up there. Evidently all that hot air and assorted gases they hold and emit doesn't ensure sufficient buoyancy. You'd think so, but I'm guessing not.

WHAT THE MONEY SHOWS

So if this species of ours is going to make 'money' out of thin air, Walton says, and then we go on to create our entire culture around it, why not give the thing integrity and base it on something truly meaningful and valuable, like our very own busyness. This way we're in the busi-ness of 'interest'-ing ourselves. And one way we can determine relative value is by using the measure of time.

See, each and every one of us has the exact same time, on a day-to-day basis: twenty-four hours per person. No matter how rich or poor we are or the color of our skin or the beliefs we hold so dear in our hearts and minds for that matter, we all got 24. Time then is a great leveler. Well, unless you have a time machine, but that's another story.

This idea may not be perfect and it may need some working out, but it's probably the best yardstick we have right now. Until we come up with something better then, it's definitely worth trying. It means that what we spend our time on counts.

As soon as we invest in ourselves then, and each other of course, we place value and worth on the things we actually like and want—not the inconvenient pound of flesh some Shylock character decides will reinforce his own position, and only his, at the expense of exactly those he plonks his big fat ass down on. Us. As though his rotund bottom line never had enough to spare.

Being so utterly ripped off as we are, it's a veritable mystery why we make ourselves into such comfy bloody chairs. It's a very good question, even if it's a bit rude. We support the insanity of our present system with our ovine willingness to comply with it (that's sheep-like). In other words, we buy the rubbish they literally dreamed up to sell us.

And all the crap? Yeah, you got it: we make it. We make it for them and then we thank them for the jobs they made us need; the ones we feel so grateful we still have, if we do. Next we buy all that junk back from them and shame each other into wanting it too. What a system! Just this one right here? It's almost perfect.

We give the very people who don't deserve it our mindless support. We've been cooperating with the wrong folks, folks—that's 'them,' and not each other. Then we complain about the bad deal we got? Huh? Yes, it really is so much worse than we thought.

But all we need to do to fix it is realize 'they' don't call us sheeple for nothing, and we can change our attitude.

Why are we looking outside ourselves for some authority to consider ourselves worthwhile and useful, for a start? Why do we need a cardiologically challenged bunch of parasitic ne'er-do-wells to decide how valuable we are? Of what use are they to us? Hello! They're parasites!

We don't have to like them, or respect them but we can still attempt to love them unconditionally as they are: dysfunctional specimens that really, really, really need our help. Somehow it doesn't seem quite like their own psychobabblists are doing them much good. Well, they did train them and write all the manuals, so that shouldn't be too much of a surprise.

Understand that all those unhealthy traits this lot possesses have been labeled 'skills' and 'talents' and 'gifts' and the substance of humanity—the caring and sharing along with the sadness and empathy we feel for those less fortunate, the things that depress us—these are now, officially anyway, the product of an unsound and diseased mind. Apparently we all need electroshock therapy, mind-altering pharmaceuticals, genetic modification, and re-education (mind control) or just plain killing so we can fit in with their crazy ways. Because that makes sense to them. Now then, who's ill? We'll rest that case. But on the other hand we don't have to tolerate them either.

When some bloodsucking critter lands on you what do you instinctively do? Yeah. And that's pretty much what this lot deserve as well, though we might consider being more humane than that if we happen to be feeling particularly generous—unlike them. We can entertain the idea that humans are able to reform themselves eventually, even if it appears fleas are otherwise.

Don't we know what we want? Don't we know how useful we are? We don't even have to go all cosmic on this one. All we need to do is consider the little world we live in. And if we don't know our own value, then why the hell not? That's pretty pathetic if you think about it.

Still, the ploy to breed self-doubt in all of us has been going on behind the scenes for quite some time now so let's give ourselves a break, recalling that we're only just beginning to wake up. And as we bat our eyes in the inevitable confusion we'll feel as we come to and wipe out the corners of our eyes, let's ask ourselves this too: Why on Earth should we need someone else to tell us what our labor is worth? As if we can't do that simple task our own damn selves. Why again? Why? Why? Why?

Well, tradition. That's it. There is no other reason.

DOES FATHER KNOW BEST?

We've been indoctrinated with the idea that someone else with a few enigmatic letters proving god-knows-what after its name knows better than we do how the real world works; that we can't possibly be as wise as it is stuck way out there in its ivory tower. As if.

We've been inculcated with insecurities and fears about our inability to cope with the ordinary challenges of life let alone the manufactured stresses our steady march to so-called 'progress' has brought, and furthermore, that we have no control whatsoever over anything outside ourselves—unless we have some fancy 'technology' they invented to take care of business of course.

Really useful things like:

sat-nav (what was wrong with maps and a healthily exercised sense of direction, or stopping and asking someone local if they'd mind helping us figure out how to get where we want to go?);

and mobile phones because of course we can't just run over to the neighbors for a chat and some nice beverage anymore (jeez, we don't even know them);

municipal water (heaven forbid we remember how to collect rainwater, tap a spring, drill a well or pop down to the creek that runs through our land with a bucket or a hose and pump for ourselves);

pharmaceutically addicted doctors to replace those 'charlatans' that understand the body-mind-soul connection and how it runs in relative simplicity, and who works with it not against it;

a globalized education system to make sure we don't come up with any brilliant ideas ourselves and use them or, heaven help us, share them with each other (gasp);

conniving politicians who milk us of our dignity though we don't dare complain too loudly about that one anymore or we'll be labeled terrorists and locked up without charge, without counsel, without trial, and without end. So that's our liberty gone too;

policemen who tazer the local homeless guy to death for daring to think he might take a breath on a street corner while they leave white-collar crooks and their uberbosses to continue to swindle the universe itself so they can languish by the pool on their palatial estates sipping Mouton by some overbearing Rothschild (too many heirs is what I really mean);

or a gun—because talking it out never worked, not ever, and don't you believe it's a solution to anything at all. What are you? Stupid or something?

Ah well, if we've forgotten how to do the right thing, we can easily relearn it. Only a few around the traps might remember all the details but I think you'll find they're only too happy to share what they know; the ones with any integrity that is. And let's face it, who else do we want to listen to anymore?

We've been told so many times we can't do anything whatsoever about the natural world and all its disasters that we forgot how in the olden days shamans steered tornadoes out of harm's way with their conscious minds and stuff. We were told they were 'witch doctors' and it was all 'voodoo' and only savages believed in that crap—noble or otherwise. Yeah, sure, now we know better. Booya! Except for all the scientific evidence now available that shows how the entire earthen environment responds to our consciousness, changing frequency in response to our collective mood indeed. So, well, apart from that we might still be forced to believe in our own impotent inadequacies.

And then inventing money and working out how to trade with each other, of course, that had to be left up to the know-it-alls that can't get anything right. Don't let the heathens figure out they can do that too!

Yep, the old money-manufacturing and laundering thingy has been done this singular way, letting 'them' make money out of thin air any old time they want, and it's all been facilitated by the 'expertise' of some possibly inbred noodles from the Ivy League for so long now we never even thought to question it. But now we can.

Thanks to folks like Wayne Walton who've bothered to look at the whole issue very, very thoughtfully, we can deprogram ourselves from the loony-tuney world-domination matrix by re-programming ourselves with the illuminated reality of our own intrinsic value. It shouldn't be too hard. At least no harder than the meager lives we're forced to lead by these same poor little rich boys.

And who knew those crazy cartoons and and whacked-out disturbing movies were really a cry for help?

PUTTING CERTAINTY BACK INTO VALUE

So how do we manage all this?

Well, we can start by asking ourselves a few good questions for a change. Not the ones where we mistrust our genetic capability, which is more than up to the task as it turns out (Shh! Don't let them know that either you idiot!). We can begin by asking ourselves questions like these:

What's it worth to me to have clean air, clean water, or wholesome and natural food available at the supermarket?

What's it worth if someone shows me how to grow my own so I don't have to spend all my days trying to get enough to eat?
How do I value-engineer the expertise required to build sustainable, efficient, non-toxic and comfortable homes and workplaces for us all?

What's the usefulness of reliable information offered by someone who bothered to be awake to it in the first place and then took the time to do the research necessary to make it that way, and is now willing to share it with me?

How much do I appreciate a useful tip or two that can help me make my life better and regain my own power?

What's the value of my own personal freedom to choose how I spend my time and energy, doing what I have a native passion for so I feel fulfilled?

How much is a transcendental song worth to me, or a truly inspirational yarn? Or any great work of art? Is a Picasso worth 3 million bucks to me for instance (and maybe it is, or maybe it isn't)? What about the picture my oldest child drew in first grade way back when, all covered in scribbly hearts and messages of love and appreciation for me? Or my middle child, or my youngest? Or the photo a friend found in a dusty album she unearthed in her attic when she moved of my dear departed sister playing in the garden with me as a very young child?

How much would I pay someone to bring me a home-cooked meal when I'm bedridden? How much is it worth if they do it just because that's what a good friend does? Go on, put a price on it—if you can.

What's it worth to feel healthy and strong, to live a long happy life watching my grandchildren grow up into fulfilled and successful adults, contributing to the world and the universe just because they inhabit it?

Cost out the opportunity to die naturally when you're ready for a new adventure in consciousness, knowing you've left behind you a legacy of love and peace.

Don't stop there though. Ask your own questions. Spend an hour sitting quietly and think about what matters most. Don't wait for that tragedy to spur you into self-reflection.

These well-loved values are the foundations of this new currency the likes of Wayne Walton is encouraging us all to consider investing in. We get to reevaluate what we want, how we want it, when and where. We get to reward those who contribute meaningfully to our lives in ways we can't always put a price on, but we can still come up with the means to help sustain their existence as well as our own, ensuring all that goodness flows and flows and flows. Just like currency should.

See, there are people here on our extraordinary planet that have bothered to look behind the ugly masks of our public faces. They're discovering the real gold buried in the dung. They want to share their wealth of wisdom, information, experience and expertise with us all. And they'll even pay us to do the same.

They're willing to pay us for joining in because they realize that when they do that and then we pass it on that it all comes back around with the right sort of interest—not the unsustainable usury we're used to that begins to bleed the life out of you before you even sign the contract. No, the sort of interest that builds up what each of us wants; increasing abundance instead of delimiting our potential while it further depletes our already carefully dis-eased lives. The more the system grows the more it's worth. That's why we're paid to join. And that makes all the sense in the world.

They understand that the system we have is not only well and truly broken, but that it was total BS from the very start. And they can help us all help ourselves and each other fix it.

The hard work's already been done and if you listen to the show and follow the links at the bottom of this post you can get a heads up. The framework is already in place. All we need to do is learn about it, understand it, use it, and share it. As we do the system grows like a sacred weed through one of their genetically modified fields of corn. Eventually it will smother the monster from below, from within, and from above.

See, it turns out the weed we were told was useless and fugly is the one with all the natural medicinal and healing properties and that makes it beautiful. Quite unlike the GMOs that might look large and glorious and filling, but are just bloated and pregnant with toxicity and transhuman mutational capabilities and preconditioned pesticides. Don't you get it yet? The 'pest' those great 'humanitarian' bio-engineers who want to own everything are trying to eradicate is us. But why would they want to do that if our slave labor is the ultimate prize? Because there are too many of us for them to handle anymore and we're beginning to wake up.

Now, being stubborn and fearful, as we often are, we might be concerned it won't work. But Wayne and his mates have already got this covered too. Because if for some strange reason it doesn't, all we've invested collectively is a wee bit of our time and attention individually.

We don't need to put any of that bogus fiat money we currently use in because in our system it's functionally useless—just as it should be as far as we're concerned but magically isn't in the old paradigm we think we so desperately need to hang on to right now. It hasn't worked the least bit well for us all so far and it never will. To believe that is like telling a dying man to have a good rest and then expect you'll see him run the Boston marathon in the morning. So let's just chunk it for crying out loud.

Besides, we don't have to go cold turkey. We can still use the old money as we need to until it's phased out altogether. And remember this too if it helps, we can always let the robber barons grab hold of the purse strings again if we decide we're not up to it.

Believe me, they'll be only too happy to waltz out of the asylum and take everything over again. Just think about inviting them and the voices in their heads will let them know. Poof! Oh goody, here they are.

OUR GRASS ROOTS

So we create this little miracle one outfit at a time.

Because it's an entirely new idea for us to value ourselves highly we can start small as we remind ourselves who we really are—growing one store, one business, one individual participant at a time. We create a very human network of associations that will expand, maybe slowly at first, but then exponentially once we get the feel for it and pass that certain threshold where things just take off.

Now, is this a message worth sharing? Or do we prefer being beaten down and enslaved? So think about it, enact it, and share it already.

In the end it's up to you and me to figure out what its all worth to us, and that's the great beauty of the whole thing. We decide what we need, what we want and what we value, not some psychopathic group of thugs who value our lives less than that blade of grass they're so busy trampling.

How on Earth did we ever come to rely on this sorry lot to lead us? Somehow we bought their party lines and then passed the diatribe on to our children without asking the kinds of intelligent questions we're perfectly capable of asking—even after we've all been deliberately dumbed down so they could lead us around by a collective noose.

Just imagine then what we can do without their plethora of fabricated, legalistic mumbo-jumbo with it's multinational corporatized layers separating us from our true selves! We need laws to tell us what's right? Do we? Well, do you?

It just boggles the mind.

So let it!

It's time to explode all that nonsense along with the chains we installed and maintain on our own brains at their suggestion and return to the roots of our naturally divine being and intelligence—our humanity. If God is in everything and everywhere, as so many of us like to say and believe, then by our own definition that includes us.

And if we honor any concept of a God that created us, whenever we believe that may have been, surely we owe him or her that much. Or else God ain't all that after all. You decide.

They're all our beliefs anyway. We took them on. And it's just about time we understood them.

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Wednesday 17 October 2012

A DOSE OF REALITY heralds AN ALTERNATIVE CURRENCY

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