Heal the Body, Free the Mind

Reposted from a comment on a nutrition blog by Eve Lees

 

Hi Eve,
In your nutrition research and learning about nutrition period, did you ever come across the nutrition benefits of low THC cannabis sativa seed oil (CSSO, brand name MMSOP), sometimes known as hemp oil, often known as Med Marijuana (trade mark registered) as produced by Stephen Health Agency Inc. of Dartmouth, NS, Canada? (If you have a fear of the word marijuana PLEASE do not throw out the baby with the bathwater, this bathwater is full of nutrition miracles used as far back as 10,000 years ago in China. Wikipedia states “The Cannabis plant has a history of medicinal use dating back thousands of years across many cultures.” (Go to https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medical_cannabis and scroll down to History Ancient) to learn about some of the uses various Middle East and Eastern cultures made of various species of the Cannabis Sativa variety of Hemp; it is impressive!)
Now fast forward to 1992, and go to https://www.ratical.org/renewables/hempseed1.html and https://www.ratical.org/renewables/hempseed2.html where you will find the earliest scientific references I can find on the internet to the nutrition and medicinal uses of the low-THC CANNABIS SATIVA SEED OIL. Canada appears to be one of the first countries in the world to make this seed oil legal, passing the Access to Marijuana for Medical Purposes Regulations under the Narcotics Control Act in 1998 as long as the THC content of the products was under 10 ppm (Stephen Health Agency Inc. regulary averages at 3 ppm, well below the legal limit imposed by the above Regulations). The next step is to have Health Canada each and all claims made for the medical abilities of ingestible natural products before they issue the product a Natural Product Number (example: NPN80055848 for Cannabis Sativa Seed Oil 1000 mg soft gelcaps). At this point I would normally give directions on how to find a specific product on the Health Canada website, but the page has been moved and finding the desired page has suddenly become VERY complicated. Yes, part of this reply to your post is because I am an agent of StephenHealthInc.com, but I am only an agent because this product COMPLETELY CHANGED MY LIFE within 4 hours of ingesting my first two gelcaps. It does not work that fast for all new users, some can take up to 3 to 4 weeks before they feel the effects of using this product, but there are also people who react to it even faster than I did. All the people in the world need this oil, as do their mammalian pets and mammalian livestock. I have taken on the responsibility to do my best to make it available to everyone who wants or needs it. Those that think they cannot improve their lives with CSSO or are afraid to take it because they are afraid of its narcotic connections are only prolonging their probability of getting new medical issues. Proactive measures are best started early in life, because reactive measures might be started too late.

Added to repost on this blog only:

CSSO is a 100% natural product that you cannot get addicted to, you cannot get overdosed on, nor can you die directly from using it. It cannot make you HIGH. It is a million times safer than any opioid your doctors may give you, yet they won’t give you any information on CSSO because they cannot write prescriptions for it, nor get it from Big Pharma. CSSO is available over-the-counter from direct agents of Stephen Health Agency Inc., or in certain Health Food Stores. It is respectfully priced at under $100 per month, often much less than that. If you are in pain, or suffer from almost any other medical issue, trying CSSO cannot harm you in any way. Even if in the end, it does not ultimately work on the condition you want it to work on, it will improve your health and life in other ways you cannot yet perceive.

RCMP TACTICS MORE FIT FOR NAZI GERMANY THAN CANADA 2017

Dateline: BOOTH 14, FISHERMANS WHARF MARKET, HAY RIVER, NT.

Sometime shortly after noon, July 22, 2017, a man wearing a police uniform (not identified as Hay River Police, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, or Timbuktu Police; just POLICE in large letters across the chest, no visible badges, no other identification of any kind visible or oral) appeared out of seemingly nowhere blocking the entrance into booth 14 at Fishermans Wharf Market. This police-uniform wearing person immediately declared all persons and property in Booth 14 as detained for investigation, and started muttering words that sounded like everyone present was guilty of trafficking in marijuana and did we want lawyers, and if no particular lawyer, then legal aid lawyers would be provided should they be requested. All residents opted for legal aid lawyers for lack of knowledge of what was happening. This did not stop the investigation, but did bring the warning “Anything and everything the detainees said could be used as evidence in a court of law.” At this point no crime had been mentioned, no reason for the raid had been mentioned, and GUILT WAS ASSUMED in a country where the law states that people are assumed to be innocent until proven guilty. The words of the supposed POLICE assumed no such possibility of innocence. The operators of the booth, including a relative visiting from Manitoba, were basically accused of being guilty of trafficking in a narcotic and of being in serious trouble with the law. Was this Canada in the year 2017, or Nazi Germany in the late 1930s or early 40s? For the residents of Booth 14 it seemed like they had gone through a time warp, not like they were conducting legal business in Canada in 2017.

Eventually it was determined that a complaint had been made by an undisclosed member of the public that raw bud marijuana was being sold to members of the public in glass bottles. Two people in the booth readily admitted marijuana in various forms was being sold to the public for legal medicinal purposes, and offered documentation to prove they were conducting legal business, but this documentation was discarded to the side without even being cursorily examined. THIS was an investigation? There appeared to be no sign of investigation, just accusation and detention. Meanwhile, the patrons of Fishermans Wharf Market looked on in amazement as customers of the products being sold at Booth 14 were rudely turned away and threatened with criminal charges if they did not move away RIGHT NOW! Even an innocent child who wanted to witness the action was yelled at with raised voice (child abuse under the law) to get away from the area, with a threat of some fearsome thing happening to the child if it did not quickly disappear from sight. Again, Canada 2017 or Nazi Germany? The latter still seemed the obvious choice. Meanwhile, the visitor from Manitoba was in fear for her continued freedom, and all she was doing was sitting talking to her family members in a perfectly unthreatening way. But threats were hurled her way too, as if she were some common criminal, not a very courteous way to greet a person visiting from another province. No, because she was in the booth at the time of the arrival of the Nazi Stormtrooper, she would be amiss to think she could avoid arrest if the suspected substance was actually found to be on the premises. That was just total lack of courtesy on the supposed police officer’s part, an insult to her otherwise happenstance occupation of Booth 14.

Meanwhile, the two salespersons of the legal marijuana were moved separately out of the booth and interrogated out of eyesight of half the patrons of Fishermans Wharf Market, the other half who were in line waiting to purchase their fish and chips from the end booth getting a much better view of the action than they had previously been getting.

Eventually Mr. Jerry Miller, sole proprietor of the business selling the raw bud marijuana (Would an honest businessman actually be selling raw bud marijuana in such a public place? The officer assured him there were many stupid criminals who would try just that!) was allowed to lead the officer back into Booth 14 for a complete search for said raw bud marijuana in glass bottles. Of course, no such substance was found in Booth 14, and after another officer had contacted the home RCMP of Mr. MIller’s business who confirmed they were aware of said business and that the business had been determined to be completely legal under the ACCESS TO MARIJUANA FOR MEDICAL PURPOSES REGULATIONS attached to the NARCTOTIC CONTROL ACT in 1998 (meaning the sale of low THC medical marijuana direct to the public had been legal for roughly 20 years already) the Nazi Stormtrooper, now safely back in 21st century Canada, took his leave of the premises at BOOTH 14 without an apology but with what he later described as a public handshake to show the patrons of Fishermans Wharf Market that the investigation had been finished and the complaint proven to be baseless.

In a later contact between Mr. Miller and the then identified Officer Beck of the RCMP, Beck informed Mr. Miller that he had bent over backwards to be as courteous as possible under the rules of the RCMP when investigating such a complaint. This admission left Mr. Miller feeling slightly appeased but still in total wonder the Nazi Germany tactics could ever be described as courteous?  There is something wrong when the Police services in a supposedly free country such as Canada can look like something right out of Guantanamo Bay, Abu Ghraib prison, or Nazi Germany, and the officer in charge is still trying to used the failed defence of Lt. William Calley Jr. who pled not guilty to conducting the My Lai Massacre of close to 500 innocent Vietnamese villagers in 1968 as just following orders, or in other words just doing my job! The circumstances of conducting a raid of a small home-based business in northern Canada are nowhere close to the circumstances of the above named atrocities, but the principles are still the same, and it is time the RCMP took a look at itself and ask whether it wants to be seen as a public protection service, or an out-of-control police reactionary force. After all, this is Canada 2017, not Nazi Germany.

 

Just to wrap things up, Mr. Miller was not told who made the complaint, but that it had been made by a prominent citizen of Hay River, and no charges would be laid for public mischief despite the fact the complainant lied by way of embellishment as to what was happening at Booth 14, including stating that many people were complaining, though not one of them had the fortitude to ask the proprietor of the business if anything illegal was taking place there. To the best of this writer’s knowledge, it was ONLY THE COMPLAINANT who was upset, and in his complaint he directly said the proprietor of the booth, Mr. Jerry Miller, had admitted to him raw bud marijuana was being sold there, which is a complete and utter fabrication of the truth. To this writer, that sounds like public mischief and wasting the time of all officers on duty at the time of the raid, leaving no officer available should anything of real criminal intent or purpose have happened at the same time, a definite and intentional misuse of public time and funds for unknown personal reasons.

Date with Destiny, Missed

Hi Everyone,

This week seems to be my week for getting pissed off at people or organizations. My last two blogs were about Richard Dawkins. Well, Rich, you’re safe for awhile. Today I found someone who pisses me off more than you do. Actually it is a company that I have respected since I read my first issue as a kid — National Geographic. I’ll admit it, I have never subscribed to NG, so who am I to argue their policies. Obviously, I’m rawgod, and rawgod hates to be pissed off because he’s a nice guy, and it almost takes a worldwide disaster to piss him (me) off. And yet, This is my second or third day this week that I allowed myself to get pissed off and write nasty emails, as reported in my blog, to people I thought were nice people, concerned about World (maybe even Universal) Survival. So when National Geographic sent me a “personal” email today I wondered what might be inside. It was an announcement for a new contest, called “CHASING GENIUS” and it asked for ANYONE ANYWHERE to enter their contest by making a one-minute video about how their idea could change the world on one of three critical issues facing the planet: Making the world 1) a Sustainable Planet, 2) Improve Global Health, and 3) Feeding over 9 billion people.

Now remember what they say, ANYONE ANYWHERE could submit their “genius” ideas. Well folks, especially you folks who are not American, National Geographic does not count you (or me) as ANYONE from ANYWHERE. The very first rule of ELIGIBILITY states, no word of a lie, and I quote, “ELIGIBILITY

Only legal residents of the fifty (50) United States and the District of Columbia who are eighteen (18) years of age or older at the time of entry are eligible to enter.”

NG says they are interested in saving the planet and all the people on it, but in one breath of a sentence they turn their brains off and their bigotry and racism on, and tell us only Americans are smart enough to change the world for the better. Can you understand why I AM SO PISSED OFF that I’m giving CRD a pass on his anti-theist campaign and asking all of you who do not agree with NG’s “National Narcissistic” stance to go to NG’s contact page and phone or write or email or fax them and give them your best rendition of a pissed off rawgod and tell them exactly how you feel about the brain power of Americans as compared to the rest of the world.

Now, I do sincerely apologize to any and all Americans who think NG’s stance is not acceptable, nor appreciated. In a world where (outside of the USA) Americans are disliked and often even hated, NG, along with Donald’s Trumpeter, are making YOU, even if you are the nicest person in the world to everyone in the world, if you are American you are considered the lowest of the low, and that is about to fall into a negative black hole you will never get out of. As I have said, I am sorry if I insulted you, but if you don’t stand up to National Geographic as most Americans are not standing up the the Florida Trumpeter, you deserve what you get.

I hope you deserve a bouquet of roses. Happy Mothers’ Day to all mothers everywhere, not just the mothers in the USA.

The Minions of the God of Atheism Respond

Goliath Refuses to Come to David. Instead He Lets His Minions Do His Wetwork

Dear rawgod gewcolo,

Your comment (full text below) has been removed according to our TED.com Terms of Use: http://www.ted.com/termsofuse.

If you’d like to rephrase your comment and rejoin the conversation, please review our guidelines for community participation:http://www.ted.com/about/our-organization/our-policies-terms/community-guidelines

Sincerely,
The TED Conversations Team

Well, thank you for the acknowledgement that I am still alive and able to piss off the powers that be. It is nice to know that censorship is still alive and well and a significant part of what I took to be an outlet for Militant Atheists. Where I come from Atheists are, or at least should be, responsible anarchists. This is obviously not the case on Ted. As far as I know I said nothing that could hurt anyone, or their feelings. I told the truth as I see it, and, like Galileo, Darwin, and hundreds of others, I am condemned for being honest and truthful. That fact that you do not agree with what I said and removed my comments speaks volumes about how scared you are of me. God forbid, lol, that anyone should take on the God of Atheism. As far as I am concerned, not only is Richard Dawkins not an atheist, but you have no right to claim yourselves as the voices of reason/
Worst of all is that your decision was summary, with not even an explanation of how I broke your oh so precious rules. Well, convict me summarily all you like, I have already posted the entire transcript elsewhere on the Internet, and if you try to reach out your powerlesss fingers and try to get other websites to take away my freedom of speech, you will get your fingers verbally slapped. Nobody likes a bully, yet that is what you and your “yes-sayers” are, nothing but bullies.
Believe me, I do not need your community to let people know they can say anything against anyone who calls themselves an atheist, particularly a fellow atheist. It’s unequivocally equivalent to one nigger calling another nigger “Uncle Tom,”  As John Lennon sang, “Woman is the Nigger of the World,” so spiritual atheists are the niggers of atheism. And I am the nigger of spritual atheism.
By the way, I suggest you remove my TED account, or I may be tempted to make a 3rd attempt to gain the attention of the Giant among Giants. He is the only one I really want to talk to anyway. His minions hold no interest for me.
rawgod gewcolo

On Being a Spiritual Atheist

The Theist approach to the conundrum of life: Either there is a god, or there is not. I believe there is not. Therefore I am not a Theist.

The Agnostic approach to the conundrum of life: There might be a god, but there might not. I am not a fence-sitter. Therefore I am not Agnostic.

The Atheist approach to the conundrum of life: Since there is no god, there is no life after death. I do believe there is no god, but I do not believe there is no life after death. Where does that leave me?

The Spiritual Atheist approach to the conundrum of life: There is no god, but there is life after death. I am a spiritual atheist.

I don’t know that I am correct in my belief, and I really don’t care if I am correct or not. The gist of the matter, for me, is that if I live the best life I can (by my own self-imposed standards) and there is no life after death, I’ll never know that I was wrong, so who cares? However, if I live the best life I can, and there is life after death, then I will be well-prepared to die. The only conundrum I can see is whether to call the being that is the universe “First Life,” as I have called it since I was young, or whether I should change after all these years to a name more befitting what I believe, and that is “Spirit of Origin”? Since that name came to me in a day dream last week, I am leaning more and more towards the new label as it is a much better descriptor of how I see life, and how I experience the universe.

 

One thing I have noticed about theists is that they believe atheists are generally bad people. Because they have no threat of hell over their heads, atheists can go out and do anything they want–and of course they are going to want the things that theists want but are afraid to do. I can only speak for myself here, but I’m pretty sure most atheists don’t go out and hurt people just because they can. The Hippie subculture of the 60s and early 70s, of which I am one, lived by only one rule, “Be whoever you want to be, do whatever you want to do, as long as you don’t hurt anyone.” I think that rule for life is what most atheists believe, and definitely most spiritual atheists. The difference between us and theists is that theists are scared to do things that go against the will of their god, while we atheists we are not scared to do a lot of different things, but we impose limits on ourselves to what we allow ourselves to do or not do. We aren’t thieves, murderers and rapists because that would hurt other people, and such is not our wish. I’d even be willing to bet that more thieves, murderers, and rapists believe in a god than those who don’t. Why? Because we have ourselves to answer to, and our friends and loved ones to answer to, while theists have god to answer to, and just maybe god is watching someone else while these criminals are committing their crimes against life, be it human/intelligent or non-human/non-intelligent. This is what I mean when I call myself a spiritual atheist: I have to live up to my own standards, and they are set high. Maybe I can’t always keep to these standards, as I can be subject to emotional distress, and I’ll say something I don’t mean. But while I can use my words as well as a soldier can use a gun, I still won’t use a gun, because it is against my beliefs. Bullets rip through bodies and cannot be stopped once fired. Words can only hurt if the listener chooses to let them hurt. This doesn’t mean I am not responsible for my actions. And no one can forgive me but me.

Abstract is Exactly What It Says, Abstract

via Daily Prompt: Abstract

I am taking a blogday off from my spiritual atheist writing to accept WordPress’s challenge to write about the word abstract. Writing, of course, includes poetry, so I am going to go  with an abstract poem:

any en

any en

aany aen

bany ben

cany cen

dany den

eany een

fany fen

gany gen

hany hen

iany ien

jany jen

kany ken

lany len

many men

nany nen

oany oen

pany pen

qany qen

rany ren

sany sen

tany ten

uany uen

vany ven

wany wen

xany xen

yany yen

zany zen

As you can see from the above abstract poem, it has no conventional form, using two lists of words side by side, setting the base line with the first two  side-by-side words, then continuing with consecutive letters of the English alphabet starting the words of consecutive lines. Most of the words thus formed are not real word pairs in the English  language, with three lines noticeably standing out from the rest for containing two common real words. The lines just happen to be in the first line, the middle line, and the last line, giving a weird kind of order interior to the abstraction of the rest of the lines. Moreover, were you to use the words of the three lines thus made, you just might create a message to the reader, one that expresses a very abstract thought, yet one that could be magical in its meaning, were the reader to believe in magic:

Any En can lead Many Men to Zany Zen

rawgod

wany wen

I Didn’t Choose To Be Here!

Did I?

A Story from Long Ago

How many times during your life have you said that you didn’t choose to be here? What if I told you that you DID choose to be here. What if I said that everyone chooses their birth families, and IF the birth families accept them, then that is how you came to have the parents you have.

Personally speaking, I think I must have been crazy to choose my birth father? He was mean, abusive, overbearing, a liar, and even a child molester (with at least two of my sisters, perhaps all three). Why would I choose such a jerk for a father? The only answers I have come up with in my 67 years of life are:

  1. He was married to my mother, who exuded love for all her children, and my spirit self thought that would make up for the abuse my father would rain down upon me;
  2. From him I learned everything I did not want to be.

I’m sure there could have been an easier way to learn that lesson, but I guess I was a glutton for punishment, or there was a third reason I have not discovered yet. The point is, though, that the choice was mine, or at the very least, the being that was me in the other dimension.

How do I know this?  One night that my girlfriend and I made love, I was lying on my bed after escorting her home, and I fell into a waking dream, a sort of daydream. I dreamt I was sitting at a great table, with my girlfriend beside me, and another being, whom I could not see clear enough to make out if it was human, alien, or spirit. The third being was asking my girlfriend and I a number of questions about ourselves, our relationship, and our prospects for the future. She was 19 years old and fresh out of school. I was 20 years old and living as a hippie, not working, or at least not legally. The two of us were very much in love. The questioner warned us of the responsibility we were about to take on. “Bringing a baby into the world would put us into a pressure cooker,” it said, or words to that effect. I couldn’t tell if we were actually hearing spoken words, or hearing the being’s thoughts in our minds–but such is the stuff of dreams. I don’t remember much of any discussion after that, but I remember being introduced to a number of small spirits, having them inspect us, and eventually one nodded his head, and the meeting ended. So did the daydream. I jerked myself awake, and sat there sweating. Was that for real? I remember thinking.

Sure enough, a month later my girlfriend told me she missed her period for the first time since she was a young teenager. I assured her that whatever happened, I would stick with her through whatever came our way. What we didn’t count on were her parents. They didn’t like me, but they put up with me. Until my girlfriend’s tummy swelled to where she could not hide it anymore. We made arrangements to talk to her parents, and sort of rehearsed how we would tell them. Between us we had just enough money to buy her an engagement ring and wedding band, and we got engaged right there in the store when we picked up the fitted rings. Then we went to her home, and started by telling her parents about getting engaged. It wasn’t long before the question was asked, was she pregnant? We told them honestly that she was, but that we were going to wait until after the baby was born before we would get married. Her father went on a verbal rampage while her mother cried. My girlfriend and I held hands so tightly I think they were both white from lack of blood. By this time I was working and so was she, and we were saving up our money to set up a home for ourselves and the baby. Her father finally settled down and told us we would talk more about this on the weekend. Until then we were not to communicate no matter  what.

The next morning my phone rang, and I answered it to the sound of my girlfriend sobbing her eyes out and barely able to talk. She was at the airport. In just a few minutes her parents were sending her to an aunt’s home in California where she would either be forced to have an abortion, or where she would have the baby and put it up for adoption. I could not believe what I was hearing. I thought we had made it plain enough that we were going to have the baby, get married, and make a home for our new family. Now, out of the blue, they were sending her away, not even giving us the courtesy of saying goodbye. The age of majority was still 21, so they could do whatever they wanted, no matter what we wanted to do. She said she had to hang up the phone, her mother was coming looking for her. We barely had time to say, “I love you” before the connection was cut off.

I felt so bad I wanted to die. I had had other girlfriends before her, even one that I was in love with for quite a while. but nothing like this. Heartbreak wasn’t a strong enough word for how I felt, and I couldn’t even imagine how she felt. And then I remembered the dream I had had, the promises we had made to the little spirit before it entered her womb. Now none of those promises would be able to come true. I’m pretty sure that was my first bout with insanity, for I have very little memory of the next 6 months. But I do remember talking to her on the phone long distance, and she telling me there had been a car accident, and the baby had been stillborn two months before her due date. I don’t even remember asking her if she was okay, though I must have, I wasn’t a total jerk.

But I have never forgotten that dream, and I have never doubted that it happened the way I remember it. Tears are streaming down my cheeks even as I write this. We never fulfilled even one promise we made that night, and I still wonder if that little spirit made it to earth with another set of parents. I hope with all my heart that the spirit was reabsorbed into the Whole, and never reformed in the same way ever again. I hope I can find out when I return there after my death, but I don’t think I  will have the time to do that before I myself am reabsorbed into the Whole. I have lived almost 50 years now with that pain inside me, and I don’t think I have ever told it as completely as I have tonight. But that experience strengthened my belief in reincarnation as I see it working. I never did make a woman pregnant since then, so I don’t know if I would have had a similar waking dream to the one I had that night so long ago. That dream, though, was my proof that we do pick our parents when we are about to start a new incarnation. And I know in my heart we are responsible for having chosen the life that came with those parents. And that responsibility is more than I can sometimes bear.