I’m not particularly political but I don’t think of this Monsanto business as political. It’s an abuse of nature and a degradation of quality in otherwise natural products that we consume.
On the internet, you always hear people arguing from both sides. I haven’t once seen an insightful article or post defending the nefarious machinations of Monsanto as beneficial for humanity.
If all of these countries have banned Monsanto, then why haven’t we?
Monsanto sucks, pass it on.
When I was little, around five years old, my mom praised me constantly for being wonderful and genius; I had successfully completed Sam I Am as well as Clifford the Big Red Dog, so my future was looking pretty bright. I began to think of myself as a literary savant. I began keeping journals and little notes about my life and the complexities of 2nd grade. Everyone always used to call them diaries and that always really bothered me. I figure once you graduate from writing only when you’re sad or mad to writing on a general basis about the adventures of your life, it stops being a diary (Bridgette Jones) and starts being a journal (Indiana Jones).
By the time I was in grade school, I carried a book around everywhere I went, trying to sneak in a page or two in restaurants, movie theatres, shopping malls, while wedged in the middle between my two sisters. My love affair with novels lasted until high school when boys and booze entered the equation. I did well in AP English, which made up for my struggles in math, and I read the Harry Potter series about 5 times.
All through my pimpled adolescence, I groped blindly for the meaning of life. I thought I found it once at a state fair in Iowa where I witnessed the slaughtering of a cow and became vegetarian for three years. I really thought I figured it out when my catholic high school took me on a retreat to Lake Tahoe and introduced me to Jesus for the first time. I even once thought I nailed it during a particularly intense marathon session of Beatles Rockband. Yet here I am, putzing along with everyone else, stumbling on the cobblestones of life looking for the yellow brick road to my destiny.
I haven’t found the meaning of life, and I probably never will which is fine. People that find their yellow destiny roads are most likely just kidding themselves. Their gilded lives soon begin to rust, turning brown, green, then gray, and pretty soon they’re back on the cobblestone with the rest of us.
That sounded so depressing but it’s not meant to be! Cobblestones are beautiful and interesting. Each one is unique and specially designed to get you somewhere even it trips you up occasionally. Life wouldn’t be interesting if everything was always perfectly aligned, cemented in place without variation or the intermittent uneven surface.
Dharma is not upheld by talking about it. Dharma is upheld by living in harmony with it, even if one is not learned.
Gray hair does not make an elder; one can grow old and still be immature. A true elder is truthful, virtuous, gentle, self-controlled, and pure in mind.
—Buddha (via lazyyogi)