Tragedy is, obviously, a terrible thing… wreaking heartbreak and sorrow wherever it goes. But it carries a hidden gift… something that lies in the hearts of nearly all mankind, but that may never be revealed without a tragedy. Much like a brilliant diamond, this gift is a multifaceted thing, able to reveal views of ourselves that lie hidden deep within, slumbering unstirred for so great a time that, for many, they have long since been forgotten and overlooked. But then suddenly, when witnessing the pain of another, a stranger even, there it is… that tug on your heart. Maybe a silent tear trickles down your cheek, for a devastated family half a world away. Maybe you feel compelled to help a needy soul, just down the street, who has lost everything in a fire. Maybe you see injustice and your heart cries out to right it… even if you have no idea how or where to begin. This is the other face of tragedy. Compassion.
Compassion knows no borders, creed or religion, it sees no color, it requires no pay. It doesn’t jump up and down with it’s hair on fire, nor does it drift away… never to be heard from again. It is both dynamic and subtle, lingering quietly until it is needed, then rising within like a mighty river. And the need for compassion is not only in those to whom it is directed. It is an act that is as deeply needed by the giver as by the receiver… to feed and grow the soul, to remind them who they really are inside. What it is that really matters, and why. To bring you home to your heart.
Tragedy kissed me on the cheek today. Sadly, it is the greatest tragedy mankind will ever know… the dying of our biosphere. The pain and sorrow I feel for all that dwell upon our planet at this time, knows no bounds and cannot be quantified. Too often the feelings of hopelessness and despair seem insurmountable. Too often I feel so very alone in the knowledge of what monumental losses are occurring in the natural world. Too often I wonder… “does anybody even get it?” Is there any chance of saving the miracle that is our biosphere? And then, just when my faith that there are many others who do care begins to ebb… a storm of compassion!
I’m referencing an essay by Nancy Levant, that was posted by Dane Wigington on GeoEngineering Watch, February 9th. I have never met or communicated with Nancy, but her words were written as though she could see inside my very soul. I was reduced to tears within just a few paragraphs. As painful as it was for me, reading her words about these terrible changes we are all experiencing, I found comfort in the knowledge that someone else out there KNOWS exactly how I feel. And then, a beautiful and inspiring thing began to happen… person after person replied to her essay, responding in exactly the same way and with the same feelings as myself. Like fireflies in the night, little packets of light were blinking on… satellites of truth, speaking up… saying “I am here, I feel your pain and I care!”
I cannot tell you how much I am strengthened by the mere knowledge that so many feel so deeply about this issue… I truly hope they also found strength and renewed dedication for the task at hand. I am deeply grateful to Nancy for sharing her heart and allowing the other face of this tragedy to be seen. Below you will find Nancy’s essay, and the letters of response.
Climate Engineering, How It Changed My World
February 9, 2015
By Nancy Levant, contributing writer for geoengineeringwatch.org
Soon I will be turning 60, and I cannot help but recall my mother’s words when she told me she felt as if she had outlived her understanding of how the world worked. She was in her eighties when she explained this sadness, and I felt this must surely be a common feeling in eldership, and I felt deeply sorry for her. Little did I know that I would feel much the same at sixty.
I grew up in a time when kids left the house at 8:00 a.m. and stayed outside all day minus the run-ins for lunch and dinner. We rode bikes everywhere and miles and miles from home. We went trekking through miles and miles of woods and tried to get lost so that we could make our ways back with tremendous pride in our outdoor skills. We made creek rafts out of sticks and leaves, climbed every climbable tree, and we made forts out of deer thickets and snow.
We lived for the storm systems to roll in and ran with careless abandon beneath thunder and lightning and relished in every snowfall that had us dragging sleds up gigantic hills over and over and over again. We were never too wet or too cold. We were outdoor kids. We loved mud, heat, bugs, frogs and toads, and we knew every critter in the woods. We knew the names of most trees, shrubs and flowers because our parents knew them, and we could name most insects and birds.
I never had my own phone, computer or TV set. I had a bicycle and friends who only and ever wanted to be outside. To stay home and watch TV meant punishment. To talk on a telephone was boring. To be outside was heaven, and I can still smell every season in my memories, remember visionary skies of my youth, the terrible annoyance of and fascination with insects, and the utter joy of the mass bird migrations during the Fall season; so many birds that from horizon to horizon the ground would turn dark beneath millions of birds in flight. And when they would land to rest and feed, the noise! Trees would come alive with such loud vocalizations that you couldn’t hear your friends sitting next to you. Every telephone wire for as far as the eye could see was covered with birds; every rooftop, every puddle alive with migratory critters, and this teaming of life brought everyone out of their houses to take it all in. Everyone used to enjoy the fall migrations, everyone, because it was part of the beauty and meaning of autumn.
During the warm months in the evenings and prior to air conditioning, screens were on all doors and windows, which were always open and, once the sun set, every kind of insect you can imagine would end up enjoying the porch and indoor lights by resting on the house screens. They covered, literally covered the screens. I hated June Bugs because you had to fight them to get into the house without 50 of them coming in with you. Flies were horrible and we simply lived with them with fly swatters in nearly every room. Back then there were absolutely amazing moths of every color, size and shape, and they were beautiful albeit annoying. During that time Luna Moths were often seen and they were magical, almost fairie-like. Equally, bees and butterflies of every color imaginable, size and shape were simply a part of every flower and vegetable garden. And the night time was loud, very loud, with the sounds of frogs, crickets, cicadas, and other insects; it was the sound of summer nights, and the grass was wet, soaking wet with dew all the way into morning where insects and birds drank from the blades of grass and swarms of gnats followed you especially in the mornings. There was so much life, and it all made sense and defined every season. It was a blessing to see it all, to smell each season and the creatures that lived their lives to such extraordinary purposes; to hear their voices, the screeching, the bass tones, the chirping; to hear and catch a cricket or a cicada. There was so much motion and sound; so much life.
I don’t know when I first noticed the aerial spraying. I was late, very late, in finally realizing something was wrong with the sky, but I noticed the lessening of insects, birds and amphibians a long time ago. For many years I thought it was weed killers. Then I thought it was water pollution; then Monsanto. When I finally learned about “chemtrails”, I knew—immediately—why these creatures had disappeared. Years later, I knew why birds were dropping dead out of the skies, why Lady and June Bugs were gone, and why fireflies were disappearing. To my horror, I finally realized why the bird migrations had all but ceased and why 20 years ago Cornell University’s Ornithology Department was asking children all over the U.S. to feed, count and identify birds at their feeders. Birds were dying.
Today there are no migrations minus small groups of ducks and geese. There are next to no moths, butterflies or any insects for that matter minus a few flies and moths, Japanese beetles, and what may be genetically modified mosquitoes.
Ponds and many bogs are silent. Evening doors are no longer covered with bugs, and I never heard one cricket this fall, not even one. I cannot explain the depth of my heart sickness, because my childhood memories no longer exist in the real world. And, having written this piece, I understand my mother’s terrible sadness of outliving what she knew, what made sense in her life. I do not know how to make sense of the perpetrated murder of nature. I can’t even wrap my brain around the immorality, the criminality of such abject insanity that kills; no, murders everything it touches. All I know is, in humanity’s ever-increasing ill-health, there will be a great reckoning, and to all of us older ones who know, who comprehend such profound loss; our world dies before our eyes; a wholly unnatural order. This sadness, the grief, is quite simply beyond words.
Responses to Climate Engineering, How It Changed My World:
Laura Marinangeli says:
February 10, 2015 at 9:11 am
Nancy, that was so beautifully put, we all feel your pain… especially those of us who share your memories.
I will turn 60 on the 1st day of Spring. All my life, Spring has come as a precious, revitalizing gift. Life bursts forth, the birds erupt in song, trees bud, flowers bloom… all is beautiful. This scene is becoming less and less the case. Fewer birds, less green grass on the hills, less definition between the seasons.
Because I am so attached to Spring and the new beginnings it brings, I have always relished the outdoors and have had the great fortune to spend the vast majority of my life there, both in the wilderness and my own yard/garden in town. On February 7th I went outside to discover, to my utter dismay, Spring had sprung. The snow was melting away, now down to only patches, the red-winged blackbirds were chortling their hearts out and the rest of my garden birds were immersed in a cacophony of song. As I stood there in shorts and a tee shirt, in nearly 60 degree weather, my heart was breaking. This normally joyous moment was occurring a full month and a half early.
I live above 5,000 feet… near a ski resort in the Northern Rockies of the USA. We should be thigh deep in snow right now, and having sub-zero temperatures. This is the third year in a row for minimal snow, above normal temps and an early Spring. Each year the migratory birds, such as the blackbirds, have arrived earlier and earlier. This year I have counted at least 4 species that arrived grossly early… more than a month. Robins, finches, blackbirds and cedar waxwings have visited my yard already. Last Spring the Canadian Honkers migrated north very early… they never made the return trip. I will be listening for them now, even though it’s too early, and I can only pray I hear them again.
How is it possible that this is not seen and understood by all? How can people not be aware of the monumental changes taking place right in front of our faces, not to mention the impact on the future of our biosphere? Alas, I fear that far too many have lost their connection to nature and, in so doing, are now blind to the truth being revealed every hour of every day… that our biosphere is crashing. The ultimate reality that needs to come home to folks is “no biosphere… no life” and, until the magnitude of our situation slaps them upside the head, they will continue to wear blinders, dragging their wagons of illusion behind them.
Thank you Nancy, for sharing the truth in your heart… you have touched many who care and, in so doing, have given new hope (to me at least) that our numbers ARE vast and we DO have the capacity to wake the others by touching their hearts with the gift of Nature, a gift we have always known.
barbara larkin says:
February 10, 2015 at 4:26 am
I became 60 in december , and once the illusion lifted to reveal this life , is when the sadness and loss the understanding that my grandchildren will not know ,potentially , anything of the enormity of loss happening as they are in a way to young ,it is almost unbearable that i will have to leave them when my time is up , danes words are so poignant, there is no more to said.
Laura Sutton says:
February 10, 2015 at 12:32 am
Nancy….Your article reduced me to tears in a way that I haven’t allowed myself to feel but that has been underneath much of my extreme concern about this geoengineering issue. Like you, my childhood was primarily set in the outdoors….I related with sorrow and with joy to so much of what you so eloquently wrote. It hit me so hard that it will be a while until I will want to reread it. My childhood too, was so full of relationships..but not just with people, but with the wind, the trees, the smells, the weather. And it smelled GOOD, and it felt GOOD. And it din’t have the look or the feel or the sadness of partial death or dying that a walk outside now has. This crime of geoengineering is a crime of madness…of death to all…And now, with the geoengineering warming the Arctic Shelf. the toxic Methane has the potential to finish the job…We NEED to do EVERYTHING that we can…speak, write. Time is NOT on our side…We all need to double up our efforts.
Elle Keathley says:
February 9, 2015 at 6:29 pm
Please speak out to officials and representatives about ongoing climate engineering programs! If you for some reason can’t write your own letter, we have formatted one that can be sent quickly and easily. Simply open the below attachment, add your name and date in which you want a response by, and send! Our world is meaningless without the ecosystems that are currently being decimated.
Kristy Wallen says:
February 9, 2015 at 5:54 pm
Nancy, I am 34 years old and understand completely how you feel. This moved me on such a profound level. I have wept over the sadness of loss I have felt over this very realization, I have wept for my memories, for the loss of the earth I knew and for my young son who will never know. I hold on for hope that it will return, which is why I dedicate much of my free time to raising awareness on this very issue, but I am often overwhelmed by feelings of it being too late. Thank you for this, for sharing your feelings. I hope that someday this deep sadness can be lifted. Solace only comes from action.
February 9, 2015 at 3:04 pm
Nancy, you expressed so well what I, too, feel. It’s frustrating when I I speak with some people who I grew up with about the reality of weather engineering/chemtrails, etc. I’m amazed when so many tell me ‘it’s always been like this.’ To myself, I wonder, ‘what world did you grow up on?’ And, yet, I know complete denial is much easier for some than to admit the awful truth. I’m 58 and my mother is 80. WE both know the truth and anguish over the destruction freely taking place globally.
Ria den Breejen says:
February 9, 2015 at 2:25 pm
A very touching portrayal of things which are all watching (also on other continents), who have already spent a few decades on this globe and are informed about certain things.
This raises once more the question of how long we will still allow this implementation of grave mental illness on the part of only a few life-disprizing crackpots.
No one has the right to gradually kill humans, animals, nature and to finally destroy the whole planet.
These insane mummies à la Soros etc., who still dominate world affairs, should continue their despicable acts in another galaxy (no, better not).
We are probably still too nice, too subtle, too friendly, complain mainly on the internet. This is probably exactly what the rulers prefer.
To move the protest into the streets is a step that certainly creates more discomfort for them.
The entire population of a country can meanwhile not be put on a black list (of an anyway extreme mafia elite, which belongs in principal on the electric chair, according to their own rules and standards).
Greg Pallen and Marylou Harris have introduced a complete new standard with their action in front of The Weather Channel Headquarters on 1/26/2015.
Actions of this dimension should take place much more frequently, as they have a very different effect. It is not virtual any longer – it is REAL…..!
No one has the right (also not a life-despising money sack called Evelyn de Rothschild) to extinguish such a tremendous amount of life at all levels.
February 9, 2015 at 12:51 pm
It’s helpful to know that there are others who understand this deep deep grief and sense of loss. Thank you.
Christina Parousis says:
February 9, 2015 at 12:01 pm
Wow. This is very moving, especially the ending. My mom has always talked of the days she was growing up when everything had a natural aroma, nature as so lush, being outside was safe and being indoors was, like Nancy said, punishment. How beautiful those memories sound to me, I’ve never experienced it in my generation. I’m in my twenties but I know too that the planet is dying. Even though I didn’t get to know it while it was still pristine, the changes I’ve observed in the last couple years alone are profound.
Discovering these programs has turned our lives upside down and personally, it’s changed me in the necessary ways I needed to evolve. It’s the worst yet (in a way) best revelation I’ve ever made, because having total awareness of the times we’re living in, that time is running out, I appreciate nature, life and my loved ones so much more. I guess it’s something you don’t really realize until it’s time to face your own mortality, unfortunately.
To say this is all scary and depressing are severe understatements for trying to articulate something which we’ve never experienced in this lifetime like near term extinction or the death of the planet.
Maybe if everyone took the necessary ‘time out’ in solidarity for all of Earth’s dying creations, to grieve, to spend every second with those we love, maybe there’s still hope to turn things around.
Lana Givant says:
February 9, 2015 at 11:49 am
I am 65 years old. I too Nancy, relate to this on a very deep level. I watched after geoengineering started in Northern California over Siskiyou County the gradual, but persistent decrease in life. Year after year, before I knew why, the bats that use to be so prevalent dipping and swirling in the air gradually but consistently ceased to exist. The amazing insect and frog life stopped. I believe what hurt me the most, was watching my grove of Juniper Trees slowly become sick and start to die. Junipers, were to me, the essence of strength. Through drought, wind, harsh winters and sometimes brutality hot summers, they stood with their gnarled dignity. When geoengineering started to make the Juniper trees sick and kill them, I succumbed to a numbing grief. The geoengineers are creating a planet that cannot support life. A planet that cannot support love. As Cori Gunnells stated, “The toll that’s taken place, is significant beyond words.”
Scot Savoie says:
February 9, 2015 at 11:30 am
Very well said and written. I try to subside my anger, but it is not easy. Flagstaff area is my home. For three days now it has been clear blue sky, and unseasonably HOT. Pine cones falling from all the trees. What will tomorrow bring? I work part time in a gas station convenience store, and try to spread the word as gently as I can. One out of ten are aware. Maybe it’s all the crap they eat dumbing them down. That’s another story, or is it? Part of elites devious plan to wipe us out? Although it’s a beautiful day today, can’t help think about how much chemical crap is floating around in the forest, and what tomorrow will bring. Know it is not good for my psyche, but I’m angry. God Bless
February 9, 2015 at 11:05 am
great words i feel the same way.please take a look on my timeline about morgellons see what you think (vic k williamson) please share on facebook
Paula Tuttle says:
February 9, 2015 at 10:57 am
Dear Nancy, I was born in June, 1950 and I related throughout your story! It was every bit the same for we kids in Ohio, and to see the awesome beauty of this planet all being destroyed by a psychopathic small group who extort OUR money to do all this damage (insult to injury), there really are hardly words invented to describe the devastation happening in our hearts as we helplessly watch it all happen every day in horror. Thank you for sharing that wonderful ‘reality check’ story. May we never forget that beauty of old, and vow to help it return one day.
February 9, 2015 at 10:51 am
dont give up… so many of us know just what you are talking about… we still MUST try to stop this,to raise awarness… take heart, you are doing such a good job of helping us all to help the world we knew, know, and still love. blessings.xx
Bob Beazer says:
February 9, 2015 at 10:44 am
thanx Dane. It is sad to know our children’s children will not know what colour the sky is supposed to be. It seems like we on the west coast are on the leading edge of this awful experiment. Is it just me, or is there a blockage in the Pacific weather running from Hawaii to Alaska?
February 9, 2015 at 10:43 am
Great article, and this perfectly describes how changed the earth is, and brings attention to the lack of insects. Humans are arrogant, and many don’t understand the “canary in the coal mine” theory.
The smallest creatures are the beginning of the food chain, and once they have disappeared, so eventually all life with follow.
Thank you for sharing your memories, as they are smiliar to mine.
Just a few of the things I miss:
The warmth of a golden sun
Water that has a natural sweetness
puffy white clouds against a deep blue sky
And yes, even the annoying flies that failed to show last summer.
To the scientists and leaders:
Why have you chosen to destroy this beautiful blue planet with your “Climate Engineering” ?
February 9, 2015 at 10:37 am
Nancy Levant, I too am almost 60. I relate to everything you said so strongly, that I could have written it myself. Except not nearly as beautifully!
Cori Gunnells says:
February 9, 2015 at 10:32 am
Nancy Levant, that was a beautifully written piece. I share your memories, and your despair. It motivates me to do all I can. The toll that’s taken place is significant beyond words.