THE RIVER PHOENIX

THE RIVER PHOENIX

A short story by Mark Stewart

She hobbled along the pavement, her limping gait unnoticed by those she shared the sidewalk with. She was ashamed of the leprous tumour on her foot, of the disfigurement which set her apart from everyone else. Instinctively she knew the deformity, swollen and gnarled, would never heal; the cancer had penetrated too far, like an invasive root; and besides medical treatment simply wasn’t available.

Even in the crowded city she lived the life of an outsider, shunned by the busy multitude. There were no shelters she might have gone to for a night’s rest, nowhere that might have provided a break from the ever present dangers that the streets obliged her to contend with. She scavenged for food wherever she could find it. In the summer she searched for shade, in the winter for warmth; both were equally scarce.

She was used to being kicked, swatted away and spat at. She had seen others of her kind, too many to number, die beneath all manner of wheels, or simply collapse from hunger never to get up again. She had suffered the worst fate that can befall any parent and had outlived her children, both of whom had died from disease and pollution long before they had learnt how to fly.

Hers was a life lived at the very margins of the city: in gutters and on rooftops, on railings and on girders, each offering a precarious perch, a momentary respite from the never ending hunt for a safe place to rest. A grainy soot had long ago covered her wings and settled in her lungs; it stung her eyes and found its way between her feathers, a corrosive cloying presence as permanent and inescapable as the tumour had become.

She lived in a grey world devoid of colour. Even the great river, around which the city had formed like a malignant coral, was the colour of ash, as if it too were made of sullen clouds. The city’s smog hid the sky from view, the incessant fumes that issued from exhausts, chimneys and boilers depriving her even of that transient solace.

She might have lived a little longer had it not been for the wheels of the buggy that had crushed one of her wings. She had been pulled from beneath the contraption by the buggy’s owner, who had quickly tossed her aside. “Urgh! Dirty thing! Such a nuisance.” She could still feel the woman’s contempt and her cold fingers, which she’d wiped quickly on her coat after she’d tossed the pest away.

Now, weary and unable to go any further, she slumped to the pavement and closed her eyes. The sounds of the city faded and for a moment there was nothing. Then a stray shaft of sunlight fell upon her body and she heard the sound of leaves moving upon a bough, or rather upon a multiplicity of boughs, so many that it sounded as if the sea were nearby. A quiet tin-tabulation reached the thin membrane of her inner ear: the sound of her avian cousins celebrating the joy of being alive.

She didn’t need to open her eyes to see the unsullied sky, to know that its blue vaults lay above her, a cathedral space that reached to the very edge of the atmosphere. Her outstretched wings quickly caught the ascending currents, carrying her back to the nest where her chicks waited to be fed. At the top of the tree she found herself surrounded by a display of multifoliate greens, by every permutation that chlorophyll can conjure.

After she had calmed her offspring, she returned her gaze to the sanctuary wood. Below her a clear stream traced a path through a water meadow. As if obeying some ancient law of alchemy the water seemed to perform its own version of photosynthesis, transforming the elemental properties of sunlight into submerged ingots of gold, the transmuted photons gleaming on the river bed, each a miniature reflection of the distant sun. It was a treasure that no city banker would ever be able to plunder. At noon, the reflected light transfigured the entire wood, turning each trunk into a pillar of fire, and each of its winged denizens into a phoenix.

She shook her wings, which caught the light, casting their own iridescence upon the air. Her foot no longer hurt and when she glanced down she saw that it was once again whole and complete. In time, the dusk came and went while she settled in to sleep beside her dozing chicks. For the first time in her life, she was no longer afraid of the coming dawn.

In the city, on one of its many streets, no one saw the body of the pigeon as it was swept up by the rotating brushes at the front of the dust truck. No one saw it disappear from view, just as no one had noticed the bird while she had been alive.

~ ~ ~

Mark Stewart, June 2015, All Rights Reserved

For similar stories please visit: https://www.facebook.com/thescreamingplanet

~ ~ ~

Artist illustrations by kind permission of Britta Noresten:

http://britta.tumblr.com

https://instagram.com/brittanoresten

RATS, COCKROACHES AND POLAR BEARS

(Image Credit Unknown)

RATS, COCKROACHES AND POLAR BEARS

 The sun grew hot in the Arctic

Toxins rose from the ocean floor

Habitat  destroyed

Driven to extinction

Unaccounted for.

~~~~~

We swam in search of icebergs

Hundreds of miles or more

My cubs drowned from exhaustion

Before I reached the shore.

~~~~~

Once on land I searched for food

I couldn’t find it anywhere

Invisible on Ice – Ignored on Land

The humans did not care.

~~~~~

Left to seek friends from low places

Among garbage and poisonous air

“Come dine with us, we have plenty to share,”

said

The rats and cockroaches

of the dumpsters and landfills

To The Earth’s

Last Polar Bear.

~~~

~ Written by Gerean Pflug for The Animal Spirits

November 15, 2014 All Rights Reserved

Copies and Re-posts permitted with a link back to this page

~~~~~

The Arctic Ice is melting

The water, air and natural habitats are being destroyed by the human species.

We are facing mass extinction.

What can you do?

Make every personal choice in compassionate protection of The Earth as a top priority.

In intense consciousness . . .

Accept personal responsibility. . .

Become Educated ~ Take Action~ Lend Voice ~

~ Gerean Pflug for The Animal Spirits

The Animal Spirits on Facebook

WHEN MATADORS BECOME ACTIVISTS

PHOTO NOTE:  The name of the Matador in this photo is unknown.

Some say, the Matador’s posture is not one of sadness, but one of defiance to the bull.

This post ponders the few Matadors who have choosen to walk away.

The matador

looks into the eyes

of a sentient, living being,

and sees it’s soul,

stops in the middle of an unfair fight,

walks to a ledge inside the stadium,

sits down,

hangs his head

and begins to cry.

~~~

A number of bullfighters throughout history, after recognizing the sentience of the living being they are torturing, have walked away from bullfighting forever.  One such ex-bullfighter, turned animal rights activist was Alvaro Munera, who was quoted:

“And suddenly, I looked at the bull.

He had this innocence

that all animals have in their eyes,

and he looked at me with this pleading.

It was like a cry for justice,

deep down inside of me.

I describe it as being like a prayer –

because if one confesses,

it is hoped, that one is forgiven.

I felt like the worst shit on earth.”

~~~

Chiquilín, another repentant bullfighter,

claims to have seen bulls weeping.

He says that he cannot kill even a fly nowadays.

~~~

Read excerpts from the Alvaro Munera interview here:

http://humansarefree.com/2012/07/bullfighter-becomes-fierce-animal.html

~~~

Blessings on those who from a place of empathy and compassion,

take action to protect, defend and lend voice,

to innocent, sentient, living beings,

who cannot speak for themselves.

We feel.  We suffer.

And in our suffering . . .

We suffer as equals.

Choose compassion.

~Gerean Pflug for The Animal Spirits

~~~

THE SORROW THAT HAS NO SPEECH

From lab, from cage and from forests,

From slaughterhouse stalls, comes the wail

Of my tortured kin.

They proclaim the sin

Of the mighty against the frail. …

For love is the true religion,

And love is the law sublime;

And all that is wrought,

where love is not

Will die at the touch of time.

Oh, shame on the mothers of mortals

Who have not stopped to teach

Of the sorrow that lies

in an animal’s eyes,

The sorrow that has no speech.

~~~

~Ella Wheeler Wilcox

~~~

PHOTO:  269LIFE.com

~~~

Blessings on those

who from a place of empathy and compassion

take action

to protect, defend and lend voice to

innocent, sentient, living beings

who cannot speak for themselves.

~~~

 TEACH CHILDREN COMPASSION AS A WAY OF LIFE

~~~

~Gerean Pflug for The Animal Spirits

~~~

MY LIFE WITH THE ANIMAL SPIRITS (INTRO)

My name is Gerean (pronounced “Jer-ee-uhn) Pflug.  That has not always been my name.   My genetic grandparents were Cherokee, Canadian French Indian and German (respectively)  My genetic mother was Cherokee and my genetic father was a full-blooded German immigrant.  I was born in the United States and named Ronna Marie Bouvier Schinhofen.  My genetic parents could not care for me, so at birth, I was relinqueshed to Children’s Home Society in Southern California.  My parents, The Lillibridges adopted me and raised me in much love.  I later was married, thus the name Pflug and although the marriage didn’t last, I kept the name.  So, my full name is actually:  Ronna Marie Bouvier Schinhofen, Gerean Lillibridge, Pflug, but you can just call me Gerean.

I love creativity, art, poetry, music, conversations of significance and wit, gardening, and above all ANYTHING to do with animals.

I have always believed that my love and connection to the animals began before I was born.  My soul knew the connection before my body did.  My connection with the animals has only grown stronger over the years.  My mother to this day, rolls her eyes and says to me, “Oh, I swear you love animals more than people.”  To which I nod my head and respond, “Yeah . . .for the most part, that’s true.”

I began this blog intially to write about my lifetime experiences with the animal spirits.   But my own soul short-circuited those stories by injecting me with passion to write of issues of more international urgency . . . such as:

• Endangered whales being slaughtered inside of protected sanctuaries
• Endangered elephants and rhinos being massacred for profit for the ivory trade & aphrodesiacs
• Abused and neglected circus animals
• U.S. Wolves and other wildlife being completely obliterated from their natural habitats
• Millions upon millions of animals being tortured and slaughtered daily by factory (and free range) farming corporations
• Our oceans wildlife being taken from their habitats to be held captive in unspeakable environments for profit from ticket sales
• Horses being slaughtered in unimaginable ways
• Millions upon millions of sentient, living beings being subjected to unneccessary laboratory testing at the most evil of levels

And the list of “hits” just goes on and on . .  and on.  The unbelievable inhumanity that has been imposed upon the animal spirits at the hands of man, absolutely sickens me.  I will not stop writing about these issues of global spiritual injustices until the day I take my last earthly breath.  But, just in case that last breath comes sooner, rather than later, I wanted to get at least a few of my many stories down on “virtual paper.”  This post is simply an intro with more to come.

~~~~~

MY LIFE WITH THE ANIMAL SPIRTS

An Introduction

by Gerean Pflug

I was raised by VERY loving parents who were old-school ranchers.   I  lived the early parts of my life on a 1,000 acre cattle ranch in an Oregon wilderness area and from a very early age experienced amazing relationships with ranch animals as well as wildlife.

My father was a hunter who provided the family meat via deer, or we ate chickens that we raised on the ranch because back in the days . . . we were so poor, we could not afford to eat our own beef.  I began crying and begging my father not to kill the animals by the age of 4 yrs. old.  His answer was gentle, but always the same, “Honey, this is the way we make our living and we gotta eat, so thank the good Lord for providing us with the means to survive.”

Later, my father moved us to land in the center of the Dairy industry in Southern, California, where he raised grain-fed beef.  My job was to care for all of the animals, including the baby calves.  Every time a new group of baby calves were delivered, I carried them around in my arms like human babies, they suckled my fingers, I bottle fed them and loved on them excessively.  My dad would continually say, “Don’t go namin’ those calves, Honey.  ‘Cause you know, they’re gonna  become meat soon.”  I ignored him each time, and named every one of the calves.

On the days that the butcher trucks would pull up, the men would get out with their rifles and begin to don their rubber boots and overcoats and position the wenches on the trucks.  I’d start to cry hysterically, begging my father to spare the lives of my animal friends.  My dad would tell my mom to keep me in the house.  I’d hear the cattle bawling as they drug them to the spot to be killed.  Each loud crack of the rifle would slice through my body and into my soul. I would sob in loud, endless heaves, while my mother held me and tried to soothe me.  “Honey,” she’d say, you are so very sensitive, but you have to face the reality that the world eats meat and we make our living raising cattle for meat.

Eventually, my parents would tell me in advance when the butchers were coming, and my dad would have me pack a lunch, go down to the stable to  ready my horse, then he’d tell me to ride out and not come back until late afternoon.  Although I cried while I was gone, I didn’t have to hear the bawls and the rifle shots and it took an edge off of the soul-shattering agony, but in it’s place was still an overwhelming feeling of guilt for turning my eyes and my back and for the inability to save the lives of my animal friends.

After the butcher trucks left, in an attempt to perform a funeral of sorts, I’d walk to the site where my friends lives were taken.  The dogs would be there, eating the remains from the blood-soaked ground, of what was left of a once innocent, sentient, living being and I’d cry to the sky where I believed that God was, and ask “Whyyyyy?”

It was in those days that I developed my-own-child’s mechanism for letting go and saying “Goodbye.”  I’d pray to The Creator of ALL, that he would place a special blessing on the soul of the animal spirit (by name) now passed on to the ‘nother places.  I’d ask God to whisper to my animal friend’s soul, and tell him that I was deeply sorry that I could not protect or defend him from harm.  And then I’d say outloud . . . “___________(name of the living being) You mattered to me.”  I still do this and say this at every loss of an animal spirit that my soul becomes aware of, including those that humans refer to so insensitvely as “roadkill.”  Every single one of them . . . mattered to somebody.  They did not live their lives without significance.  They ALL matter to me.

These days, I continue to whisper to all animals, I intentionally send my soul thoughts to them, I pray for them, I feed them, I give them continual attention and affection, I write on their behalf, I adopt when I can, I donate what I can and . . . I DO NOT eat them.  In return, they consistently show their appreciation by guarding over me and by offering me their consistent friendship.  The birds that I feed tell their babies that I am their friend.  Horses and cattle make significant eye contact and scratch their heads against my body.  The deer bring their newborns to sleep directly below my bedroom window.  The dogs sleep wherever I sleep and watch every move I make.  Animals in need find me.  The stories are so numerous ~  It will take more than a natural lifetime to write them all, but in future posts, I plan to write some of the most memorable.

To those of you who have been following my writing . . . to those of you who have encouraged me . . . to those of you who tirelessly and passionately take action . . .to those of you who understand and share in this love for our brothers and sisters the animal spirits, I thank you and wish for you the highest level of blessings in this earthly life and beyond.

Blessings on all

who from a place of empathy and compassion,

take action to protect, defend,

provide shelter to, feed,

love and lend voice

to innocent, sentient, living beings

who cannot speak for themselves.

~Gerean Pflug for “The Animal Spirits”

~~~~~

GEREAN PFLUG,
Author: “The Animal Spirits”

~~~~~

‘TWAS THE WHIP THAT SPOKE

~~~~~

The beasts are very wise,

Their mouths are clean of lies,

They talk one to the other,

Bullock to bullock brothers

Resting after their labors,

Each in stall with his neighbors,

But man with goad and whip,

Breaks up their fellowship,

Shouts in their silky ears

Filling their soul with fears.

When he has plowed the land,

He says: “they understand.”

But the beasts in stall together,

Freed from the yoke and tether,

Say as the torn flank smoke:

“Nay, ’twas the whip that spoke.”

(Rudyard Kipling, The Beasts are Very Wise)

~~~~~

~~~

Blessings on those

who from a place of empathy and compassion

defend, protect and lend voice

to innocent, sentient, living beings

who cannot speak for themselves.

~~~~

Sentient Living Beings . . .

We feel.

We suffer.

When we suffer

We suffer as equals.

Please be compassionate in action.

~~~

~Gerean Pflug for The Animal Spirits

~~~

THIS IS THE FACE OF IVORY TRADE

This is the face of the ivory trade . . .

by Gerean Pflug

PHOTO CREDIT:

African Wildlife Trust

  www.africanwildlifetrust.org

~~~~~

Poachers move in quickly using chain saws, machetes, axes and hunting knives, to cut the tusks from elephants, often while they are still alive.  They leave the faceless, innocent, sentient being in agonizing pain to die.  The poachers will often wipe out an entire elephant family at one time.  Many of the elephants are pregnant or are nursing babies.  The babies are left traumatized and alone to starve, to die of exposure or to be fed upon by the lions.

Rangers by hundreds patrol the vast acres of land in Africa where the elephants are constantly on the move.  The rangers rarely have even the most basic of needed supplies and are generally unarmed, no match for poachers using high-powered automatic rifles and cutting-edge weaponry.  Many of the rangers die in the process of protecting the elephants that they have grown to love.

Why is this happening?  Greed ~ They do this for profit from the ivory trade. The bulk of the ivory ends up in China, who has made a mockery of international bans on ivory.  The Chinese feed the market by purchasing trinkets made of ivory, which has become a national symbol of status.  But China is not the only villain in this heinous crime against our wildlife.  Trophy hunters from around the world, pay exorbitant amounts of money for permission to kill elephants.  And . . . countries around the world, use ivory for numerous reasons, including the creation of religious icons. However, worldwide spiritual and religious leaders are beginning to become active in banning the trade of ivory.

Recently the Vatican spoke out against ivory trade.  In January of 2013, after groups and individual activists in mass, wrote letters, placed phone calls and signed petitions, THE VATICAN condemned the poaching of elephants.   Father Frederico Lombardi, the director of the Holy See Press Office in the Vatican, referencing Catholic tradition, made the following statement:

“We are absolutely convinced that the massacre of elephants is a very serious matter, against which it is right that everyone who can do something should be committed,” . . .

“Creation is entrusted to humanity to be cultivated and safeguarded as a precious gift received from the Creator and therefore should not be destroyed, treated violently, or exploited but rather treated with great responsibility toward the creatures themselves and toward future human generations so that they might be able to enjoy these essential and marvelous goods.”

Read more at http://news.mongabay.com/2013/0204-hance-vatican-elephants.html#JiohBSVbBUDjw5lq.99

Up until now, the world has looked to international governments to protect this highly endangered species, but to date, the governments have failed.  It is now up to the international community to assure that the African elephant is saved from extinction.  Environmentalists, Religious and Spiritual Groups, Non-Profit Organizations, Private Groups, Celebrities and Millions of Individuals worldwide have delared an all-out war on poachers who are obliterating our African Elephants for profit from the ivory trade.  The massacre of near 40,000 elephants per year (60-100 per day) has become the greatest environmental crime on our planet.  It is now estimated that if the trade of ivory is not banned worldwide, the African Elephant will be extinct by the year 2020.

~~~

IN ONLY A FEW SECONDS,

THE WWF COMMERCIAL AGAINST IVORY TRADE MAKES IT’S POINT

WATCH THIS 30-SECOND VIDEO BELOW:

~~~

It is up to every individual to assume a sense of responsibility

and to take action to save this majestic, gentle species we call “Our Elephants.”

When individuals take action ~  we become a group of millions.

Help raise public awareness and influence empathy and compassion for this urgent need.

Write letters, place phone calls, sign petitions,

use every social media networking platform available,

Facebook, Twitter, Blog Sites . . . they are all free international tools to let your voice be heard.

~~~

Blessings on those who from a place of empathy and compassion

lend voice to innocent, sentient, living beings

who cannot speak for themselves.

THE FIGHT IS ON.

~Gerean Pflug for The Animal Spirits

~~~

PLEASE TAKE ACTION:

TAKE IMMEDIATE ACTION BY SIGNING THE WORLDWIDE C.I.T.E.S. PETITION:

Click ~~~>  http://www.iworry.org/

~~~

SIGN THE WWF PETITION FOR ELEPHANT PROTECTION IN AFRICA AND THAILAND:

Click ~~~>  http://action.panda.org/ea-action/action?ea.client.id=1773&ea.campaign.id=17713

~~~

IVORY ACTION. Email. Petition. Share.
http://www.elephantectivism.org/p/ivory-action-1-2-3.html

To find out how you can help the elephants and rangers:
The Thin Green Line Foundation
 The David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust
Big Life Foundation
African Wildlife Trust

The Jumbo Foundation Elephant Orphanage

~~~

References/Resources:

http://www.abc.net.au/foreign/content/2013/s3683920.htm

Bloody Ivory:  http://www.bloodyivory.org/quotes

~~~

This article was written by Gerean Pflug, 2/5/13, All Rights Reserved ~ Permission is granted to reblog, copy and repost this article in full, as long as links back to this page are present on the copy.  Copies of part of this article must be requested in writing via email to:  Animalspirits222@aol.com

To all who follow “The Animal Spirits” blog ~ At the writting of these words,, the ivory trade is obliterating our planet’s elephants. The crisis is worsening by THE DAY. There is an urgent need for EVERY individual to let their voice be heard in defense of our remaining elephant population. We need every government, every religious/spiritual group, every activist, every single individual on this planet to unite. Please find the petition for CoP16 within the body of this post and sign. Additionally, please sign any other petitions that you find or cross your path. We can write letters, make phone calls, blog & reblog, post to Facebook, Tweet and email. There are people across the world dropping what they are doing to go into the countries where the poachers are basically cutting the faces off live elephants to take their tusks to sell for ivory trinkets. The elephant is left in agony to die. Many of them are pregnant. Many of them have newborn babies who cannot survive without their mothers. The elephants are traumatized, depressed and anxiety ridden. This is worldwide issue is so incredibly URGENT that we absolutely must push to raise public awareness, eliminate apathy and influence IMMEDIATE action because . . . there is very little time left. Please see video. Please educate yourself. Please sign the petiton(s). Please take action.

Blessings on those who take action and lend voice to innocent, sentient, living beings who cannot speak for themselves.

~Gerean Pflug for The Animal Spirits

STOP ANIMAL ABUSE

ACTION FOR FEBRUARY 2013

With 35,000 elephants a year being slaughtered for their tusks, the fate of the African Elephant hangs in the balance. The Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES) prepares for the sixteenth Conference of the Parties (CoP16) in March 2013. The scientific community, global intelligence agencies and wildlife trafficking authorities warn that the African Elephant is on the precipice of extermination due to the unmitigated slaughter of tens of thousands of elephants each year.

Please click the link below to find out exactly what you need to do!!

It’s very easy & simple…everything you need is in the link below, including a pre-drafted letter; you just need to find the people to send it to from where you live, the email addresses are included for each country (just below the letter)

PLEASE HELP...sign share of FaceBook & Twitter. On March 16th WE MUST…

View original post 182 more words

THE GENTLE BARN

“Don’t just believe what you’re told . . .

check it out from behind the scenes . . .

then follow your heart.”

~Ellie Laks, Founder, The Gentle Barn

~~~

~~~

“I am the voice of the voiceless
Through me the dumb shall speak
Till the deaf world’s ear
Be made to hear
The wrongs of the wordless weak.

And I am my brother’s keeper
And I shall fight his fight
And speak the word
For beast and bird
Till the world shall set things right.”
-Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919)

~~~~~

THE GENTLE BARN, SANTA CLARITA, CALIFORNIA, USA

The Gentle Barn takes in as many animals as they can,

provides them with medical treatment,

feeds them,

loves them,

rehabilitates them,

and provides them with a loving, forever home.

Children who have been traumatized,

who are struggling with tradtitional methods of therapy,

visit the Gentle Barn

and make extraordinary, healing connections with the animals.

~~~

“Often when children are abused, they turn their hurt around to abuse others. By teaching empathy and uniting kids with all life, our At-Risk Youth program helps turn these kids from the inner city into protectors instead of abusers.” ~The Gentle Barn

~~~

EXCELLENT video illustrates the work of The Gentle Barn and exposes the dairy industry, who is actually the veal industry, and the heinous abuse of innocent, baby living beings that the human species calls “veal.”  By supporting the meat and dairy industry, we are supporting an industry of neglect and abuse that is void of compassion and humanity.

~~~

To learn more about and support the work of The Gentle Barn, follow the links below

THE GENTLE BARN ONLINE

THE GENTLE BARN ON FACEBOOK

MERCY FOR ANIMALS ONLINE

~~~~~

Blessings on those who take action to protect and lend voice

to innocent, sentient, living beings

who cannot speak for themselves.

~Gerean Pflug for The Animal Spirits

~~~~~

Share this:

I cry . . . and then I reblog and share on my social networking platforms. Every individual action taken to lend voice to innocent, sentient, living being matters. Every living being matters. Please show compassion in action. ~Gerean Pflug for The Animal Spirits