Mother's Day in the Lockdown Bubble -- How Our Tribe is Faring based on a Ten Question Survey

The survey says . . . . our tribe is faring farely well. 

I woke at six a.m. this morning to begin analyzing the results of our full moon Covid survey in order to share them with you today, my geek gift to you, this Mothers Day of May, 2020.

If you haven't taken our Covid-19 lockdown survey, you may do so right here because I will continue to collect responses until I have a larger sample size.  It's a simple ten-question survey that takes an average of four minutes to complete.  And, when you are done, we kind of have a picture of what's happening to our tribe.  One hundred twenty-five people responded.  That's enough to draw a picture of what's happening to our tribe, Covid-wise.

From the 125 respondents (our initial sample survey size), more than 4 of 5 respondents are living in places with lockdown orders in effect.  The various answers from those who said neither 'yes', nor 'no', seem to indicate that everyone is living some form of lockdown, some on hard lockdown, some on soft-lockdown, some essential workers living with those on lockdown.  It is also interesting that it seems a good number of people who answered don't know their legal lockdown situation and are just locking down to be safe or protect others (the curve flattening thing is working without law enforcement ushering folks home).

More than half of our respondents are on lockdown with others (54%), while approximately one in four who answered the survey are locked down alone (26%).  Twelve percent of the respondents are essential workers and, thus, not locked down.  Unlocked up (?) 

Sixty-one percent (nearly 2 of 3) respondents have received lockdown assistance from their governments. 

Approximately 70% of the respondents received stimulus checks (as of  May 8th, 2020) and 12% received or will receive unemployment.  3.2% received low-interest loans.

When eighty percent of the people of our enclave are collecting unemployment, but twelve percent of our respondents indicate they are collecting unemployment, either everyone is working or people just don't know how to go about dealing with our government agencies.  I suspect some of the people who aren't getting help don't need the help (like my son who makes a lot of money), and that's fine, but it is sad if people in need aren't getting it because they don't know how to not take no for an answer. 

Sister Mary Ellen:       Sister Kate, I tried to file for unemployment and they wouldn't let me.

Sister Kate:                  When did you do that, Sister Mary Ellen? 

Sister Mary Ellen:        Sunday afternoon.

Sister Kate:                  Right, when 30 million other Americans were trying to file? 
                                     You try at 6 a.m. tomorrow morning, and then let me know.

Sister Mary Ellen:        Yes, Sister.

-------

Brother Nix:                  Sister Kate, I know you said I could file for unemployment, but I can't,                                                  because I'm self-employed.

Sister Kate:                   Oh for f****'s sake.  You don't want the free government money
                                      while you can't run your small business?  Did you get wealthy
                                      while I wasn't looking, Brother?

Brother Nix:                 No, Sister, (kicking stones with toe of shoes), I just . . .

Sister Kate:                  You just go in there again, say you are unemployed, say you worked for
                                     your business, and go through it like that's your money.  You know that
                                     is your money, right?  You pay taxes, right, Brother?

Brother Nix:                 Yes, Sister

Sister Mary Ellen and Brother Nix got their government assistance for tough Covid-times.  And Sister Kate didn't hear from them again. 

Some of the comments made it very clear that people are confused.  I tell my folks that if they want that money, they have to show the universe and get up early, try more than once, never take no for an answer.  Eight of eight people who applied for unemployment are getting it.  The business qualified and got a payroll protection loan from the SBA.

If you worked 4th quarter 2019 and paid taxes, and you worked 1st quarter 2020 and paid taxes, you should be getting unemployment unless you are wealthy and if you are wealthy, you don't need the help.

Question 5  How has the lockdown changed my daily work life?

This is a bad question, or my choices weren't good.  With half the respondents replying 'other', I had to count and format the comments resulting from the 'other' category to see where the tribe sits, workwise.

Approximately 1/5th 'no change, already working from home'.  Approximately 1/5th retired, approximately 1/5th working, 15% on furlough (approximately 1/6th), 8% home with the kids (1/12th),  and ten percent includes overworked and underworked health care professionals, caretakers and students.

Question 6 Measuring Transience - Has the lockdown changed your living situation?

Nearly 82% of the respondents said 'no change' in living situation.  That's good.  We have seen people coming and going from our place, seeking refuge, seeking solace, and we wondered if it was happening elsewhere.  The comments reek with separation sadness, "I can't visit my girlfriend", "I can't see my grandkids", but otherwise, this respondent group has food and shelter, it seems.

Question #7 - What do you do with your extra time?

4 of 10 people, according to our small survey, are investing more time in meal planning and cooking, more time in prayer and spirituality, more time cleaning and organizing, and more time sleeping and resting.  This is the healing of mind-body-soul going on here, you know, right?

I know I pray more when certain sisters are cooking. 

I certainly pray more loudly when it is time to clean and organize, kind of like this, "Mother Goddess, don't let me kill the people who mess this up when I'm done."

The comments that came with Question 7 were like the people they represent.  Varied and contrasty.

From words of hope:  life is fair, hang in there, words that make us smile.  To words of despair, that call us to prayer . . . "severe depression  . . . creatively frozen".  Most of the words, however, reflect what we are doing here . . . more time gardening, yoga practice, sewing, knitting, reading, writing, praying, making things, fixing things.

Q9 If you believe in magic fairies, what would you ask them to bring you right now?

The highest-scoring category (no pun intended) was the 'ounce of good weed' answer to the question of what you would have your magic fairy bring you right now.

Q10 Have you developed any new routines since lockdown happened?

The good news is that 45% of the respondents day they implemented healthier habits and only15% say they adopted some unhealthy habits.  18% they are sleeping better, but 21% say that sleep is harder for them to come by.

Here is a link to our favorite song, May All Mothers Know That They Are Loved (Circle of Women)

Support the sisters this mother's day by making a purchase from the Sisters' store.  The month of May brings two new products, the fresh sweet-grass braids burned for abundance and the cotton washable designer masks.

Sisters of the Valley LLC
support@sistersofcbd.com
3144 G Street, Suite 125-205
Merced, CA  95388
www.sistersofthevalley.org
209 626 6003 MTW only during shelter in place

Hemp Seeds and Politicans

No, we haven’t resolved our business banking challenges. 

Yes, Congress has passed the Safe Banking Act (for cannabis and hemp businesses), but the Senate hasn’t yet.

No, we can’t grow our operations here in Merced County. 

Yes, we’ve already moved ¼ million in sales a year north to another enclave in another town.

Yes, we’ve replaced 4 of the 5 people who quit during the shit-storm, but those jobs were created for women two counties away, because, you know, it’s still a ‘no’ to having a business permit from the county.

The hold-up on business banking is because we don’t have this permit.  We have banks in North Carolina, Nevada, and Arkansas who will take us as clients if we just had that little piece of paper.  So our growth and progress is being stalled by Merced County.  

A politician from Washington DC came to see us this week.  Someone keenly interested in hemp for the planet and the people.  I won’t say if it was a congressman, a senator, or Trump, but it was one of them . . . and the entourage.

“Hook up with a University”, the visiting important person said.

“I would love to do that, Senator, Congressman, President” (can’t say), “But the problem is the Universities themselves are engaging in a tremendous amount of corruption in regard to researching hemp and cannabis.”

“How’s that?” person-of-political-influence says.

“I will give you two recent examples.” I explained.  “One is our very own UC Merced, where a $5 million grant from an anonymous pharmaceutical company was endowed on them to prove that cannabis smoking leads to cigarette smoking.”    

The politicians roll their eyes.

“Yes, and it’s soooo very interesting that $5M was awarded but $3.5 million made it to the study group.  So there’s shit upon shit here.”

The politician nodded.

“Next example.  New York Medical Research facility.  Asking to purchase a bulk lot of our CBD oils for their study. Further questioning determines that they care far more about their money than the study, and want to give chronic pain users 3 mg a day of CBD.  Or 6, if they feel generous.  3 mg in the morning and 3 mg a night.  That is 1/10^th of the starting dosage for people in pain.  I explained that the dosage was far too small and didn’t take into account the size of the patient.  They didn’t care.  We said ‘no’ to supplying them because they are trying to prove CBD won’t help, by giving the least amount possible.”

The politician person was perturbed, but not surprised.  Sadly. 

Every attack on us this year was solved by throwing money at it.  That’s how capitalism works.  The cease and desist, ka-ching, the movement of wholesale to another enclave, ka-ching, the quitting of two finance people who both left me surprise bills, $12K vendor bill and $8K legal bill, ka-ching, lost health insurance (it turns out Anthem Blue Cross doesn’t take payment in cash), stacked up taxes that couldn’t be paid (will be paid, but even being late on all this is something we didn’t engineer!), opinion paper from the attorneys -- ka-ching.  Mastercard compliance needs us to have an office in London and it can’t be Southampton where Matt is, where the money could benefit someone in the enclave, NOOOO, it must be a WeWork office and no one in our shop benefits from that . . . .the lawyers, the fix-it guys, the list goes on.

Every job became a work-from-home job and 4 of the 6 sisters were moved off the farm in order to stay compliant with our farm mortgage, to keep homeowner’s insurance.

All of these things together caused financial chaos we are still reeling from.  We never shut down our store, we never have had any problems with our credit card processors, and we only paid salaries in cash for one week.  We never switched to cash sales as the universe seemed to encourage us to do.  

As I told every tax bureaus and professional who would listen, ‘If we have to go cash, that’s the same as shutting down, because I can’t put the sisters at risk!’

Three things are in the works to help us set ourselves right after the storm.  One, my ex-husband is likely to come through with a settlement from our court hearing in September.  Even though I have to fight for every dollar he hid, I do like to say to people ‘Do you like the farm?  My ex- bought it for us!’  And now, I am hoping this last court round awards enough to pay the debt we incurred this year and perhaps build us a greenhouse.  I can just hear it now.  “Do you like the green-house?  My ex- bought it for us!”

He’s a master at using the courts to delay, as evidence by the fact that this is our 12^th year of litigation . . . . so plan A, though sweet, and just, has to come with Plan B and Plan C.

Plan B is to raise $30K by selling our metaphor dolls and if we can do that, we take some stress off the business.  They are kind of expensive, but all hand-made by the Sisters.  They are called ‘metaphor dolls’ because they are metaphors for throw-away women.  We find them naked and forlorn at flea markets, clean them up, give them spiritual, choice-filled, purpose-driven lives, and (unlike the real weed-nuns), they smile allllll the time!

Plan C is the hemp seed crop that will be harvested in front of Dutch filmmakers the end of the month.  We are designing the seed envelopes now.  All these seeds came from clones from Big Bertha, who sprouted suddenly, out of line, on her own, without intention, in the backyard in the Spring of 2018.  By the Fall, she was the tallest and grandest and she was the plant that Nesta crawled inside on Ollie’s music video, Sex, Weed, TV.  She was amazing and forgiving, and we abused her for film because she grew out of line.  There is a lesson in here.  She wasn’t important to us – because she grew out of line. 

I remember the day that Rudy said, “Sister Kate, look” and he pointed to a little plant on the ground that was struggling to meet the sun, only about six inches tall.  “How did that get there?” I asked.  He shrugged.  “Just happened, I guess.  Random seed, wind, it happens.”

We just stood there for a moment staring at her.  “I guess you should put a little fence around her so that no one steps on her.”

“She’s out of line.” Rudy said, pointing to the rows of plants that were geometrically symmetrical.

“So am I.” I said dryly.  “Most of the time.”  Rudy must have liked my answer, because he took real good care of her and she grew up to give us over 12% CBD and less than ½% THC, as well as thirty clones that became our long season crop for 2019.  

By the way, we didn’t set out to make a seed crop.  Because of the hemp ban, because of the cease and desist, and because of the loss of banking, all in the same month, we really thought we were going to have to shut down the business and move entirely to another county.  One doesn’t put a crop in the ground if they are planning to leave.  It was mid-July before we planted and we decided that because a plant crop would not be abundant, and because all the plants were clones of Big Bertha, we would engineer for a seed crop.  That’s how we got here.  Hoping to make lemons from lemonade.

The Final Hours Before the Final Vows

Last night’s full moon was a reminder to me of how far we have come in such a short time.  As I retreated to my room with laptop under arm to play some meditative music, light a candle, and rest in preparation for the evening ceremonies, I couldn’t help but feel a warm sense of satisfaction that, as Mary Chapin Carpenter sings:  everything runs right on time, years of practice and design.

We are now in our third year of the Sisterhood, and by late yesterday, I was already feeling deeply satisfied by the progress of the Order.  I was feeling a sense of pride in how everything around the farm seemed to be running right on time.   

It was ten after four in the afternoon when I entered the abbey.  I noticed how quiet it was, straight off. 

Like a mother with her list of children, I couldn’t help but do a quick assessment on where all my tribe were at this particular moment.  Sister Kassidy was out for two days, preparing to take her vows.  That meant her two-year old noisemaker (and I call her that in the nicest way possible) was not here either. 

Miss Preslee was the only one working down the hall from the kitchen, quietly absorbed in answering customer emails.  Miss Amy and Chef Marilyn were in the kitchen of the blue house prepare the evening feast.  Miss Lori was in the office taking my calls and hers, and getting payroll ready. Sister Freya’s off-spring wouldn’t be arriving for two hours and she was holed up with the stars and the forecasts, preparing her readings.

I knew Miss Preslee’s seven-year-old son, Jayden, was kicking a ball around outside in the drizzling rain and that the Brothers were in the shop, tending the plants. 

At the time that I walked passed Jayden (after a very long day in the office on conference calls and preparing the songs, speeches and vows for the ceremony), I was intent on just having my tea, resting on my bed and listening to healing music.  But when I stepped into the main hall, the visual was so pleasant I had to stop and appreciate it. 

The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds and did a little light show on the polished surface of the big wooden table in the center of the room.  The faint smell of our topical salves lingered in the air.  Everything was so clean and orderly and peaceful.  A sigh of relief that Sister Freya had arranged the abbey.  I hadn’t intended to linger, as I only had an hour and a half to shower and rest before I must dress for the evening. 

I set down my papers and computer and stood admiring the sunlight coming through the blinds, admiring the positioning of the items required for the ceremony.  The candelabra at the center of the big wooden table, with half-burned white taper candles in their holes from the last ceremony, but boxes of new white taper candles set nearby the base . . . new, colored, scented candles in deep glass jars were set about the room - two on the wood-burning stove, two on the wooden chest near the front door, two on the kitchen counter, one on each side of the candelabra.  That table is the center place for all our indoor ceremonies, I thought, smiling fondly at the table, and then nodding respectfully to it, as if it has a life of its own.  With all the items arranged on and, around it, it seemed so.

Miss Preslee had set out four sets of gloves, four palo santo sticks, and four smudgesticks, all new wicks, new sticks, new gloves.

The only sound in the quiet room was the ticking clock from Karlovac.

I opened the gown closet door and smiled at the four gowns, four bleached and starched bibs, and turning to the table, counted four pressed veils, four caps and four neck-covers hanging individually over the backs of four chairs. 

When I emerged from my rooms at half past five, I lit the candles and thanked my lucky stars, and Godfather and Goddess Mother for how far we have come.  I recalled that it wasn’t so long ago that I was doing the ceremonies alone, under the stars, feeling a bit crazy for doing so. 

Two years ago, I did everything, I was the everything.  One year ago, it wasn’t so, with at least a dozen people around and participating . . .  and though I had more Sisters and more Brothers, I was still doing  pretty much everything, but with helpers.  I was still doing all the menu planning, most of the cooking, and I was candle-fetcher, music director, sermon-writer, moon-phase researcher.  I was garment manager, too, and would sometimes be sewing, pressing, or repairing gowns, bibs or veils up to an hour before the ceremony.

Last night, as I moved from station to station lighting the candles for the coming ceremony, I said a prayer of thanksgiving for the ease with which our full moon events have come to be executed.  It isn’t just a normal ceremony as there is a feast; there is special cleaning and preparing that must be done, preparing of both the physical and the spiritual.  But this time, I didn't do it alone.  This time, I didn't even do the majority of it!  This time, I got to focus on my part and everyone else focused on their own parts and somehow, we nailed it -- with the elegance and grace of professional ballet dancers.

I said a prayer of thanks for Mother Goddess shepherding these women to me, the right women, the right men.   I said thanks for the order and the calm.  It is, after all, the order that we crave; it is the simplicity of an elegant dance that we all wish to be part of -- it is the lack of a need to discuss and over-discuss every little thing.  We strive to be like our ancient mothers -- less words, more dignified action.  Last night’s ceremony – and more importantly, the period of twenty-four hours leading up to last night’s ceremony -- was like a graduating step for the Order.  Like a coming-of-age of the Sisterhood.  Everyone had a task to do; everyone had a role to fill, and everyone did their thing, elegantly, gracefully, seriously, and excellently.  I couldn’t be more proud.

February 10, 2017

Ice Moon / Full Moon

Celebration of Sister Kassidy Taking Her Final Vows

Opening Song – #1 Sacred Ancestors

First Reading – Sister Kate / Pope Joan

Song – #3 Earth Joy Dance

Light Sage and Palo Santo Incense

Song - #5 We Are a Circle

Second Reading – Sister Freya / The Strength of the Moon

Light Sage and Palo Santo Incense

Song - #8 We All Come from the Goddess

Sister Kassidy Vows & Gifts from the Tribe

Final Song - #7 I Hear You Calling

Photos by Jaime Riley.

Being Beguine (Dec 2016)

Originally published December 5th, 2016

My fascination with Catholic nuns, my ever-on radar for nun-news, comes not so much from having grown up with them all around, but the fact that they are going extinct.  (If someone knows of a Catholic nun revival surge, please point it out to me.) 

It is the fact that we are alive to witness the extinction of a twelve-hundred-year-old tradition that is fascinating.  It is the fact that they ‘stood by their men’ through some pretty egregious happenings that suggests extinction is inevitable, perhaps even karmic.

As a child educated in a Catholic school, I had to swallow some pretty bizarre concepts, presented to me as ‘truths’.  The pope is infallible.  Purgatory is a place.  The Holy Ghost is a thing.

Recently, I heard a modern-day Catholic nun tell a news reporter that the white habits they wear represent being married to God.  She said they put on their wedding dresses every day to celebrate their anniversary of marriage.  The nuns I grew up with wore black, so I never heard of such a thing as the habit being a wedding dress!

It got me to thinking.  If no-one objects to the rather bizarre notion that nuns wear their wedding dresses daily, to re-live their marriage to God, then certainly people can wrap their heads around the concept of a Sisterhood of women who work with cannabis plants, make home-made tonics and tinctures, and support themselves through their own labors and without need of alms?

Our earth family should be able to accept the fact that we wear the gowns to honor our ancient Beguine fore-mothers, that we put them on to show respect for the plant and Mother Earth, that we put them on to remind ourselves to make our sacred ancestors proud, that we wear them to announce our presence to the people, as regalia, to honor them, whenever we are among them.  Yet, word on the street is that our local officials can’t wrap their heads around this concept.  Yes, word on the street is that they are fine with our cannabis business, but not with our uniforms.  So I can only assume that if we claimed to be married to God, if we claimed our uniform was a wedding dress, then it would be ok?

Actually, try as they might to make it about something else, we know too well why they object.  They object because there are no men in charge here.  They object because there is no male-founded, male-run, male dominated church here.  There are men here, of course, but they don’t run the show.  Furthermore, our order is ‘self-formed’ and, as ‘weed-nuns’, we are self-declared, which makes us empowered, and the old grey-haired white dudes running the central valley of California find that to be frightening.

In case you hadn’t heard, we are leaving a two-hundred-thousand-year-old period of male energies ruling the planet and are entering the age of feminine energies ruling the planet.  We are leaving our ‘conquer all’ mentality that formed our civilizations and we are entering an age of preservation, nurturing, nesting.  Of course, female energies must now rule, if we want to keep our people inhabiting this planet.  (Never mind Trump, Brexit, Geert Wilders, Marine Le Pen, and the others of their ilk, they represent the last gasp of a dying paradigm.  You didn’t think the conquerors would go down without a fight, did you?  But worry not -- hate is not a sustainable political platform.)

Before we bought our farm, we checked the history of the land to make sure no blood was spilled here.   We purchased as ‘near virgin’ land as is possible in these parts.  No animals were caged or slaughtered here, no one was ever hurt here, and we made a big upset in this place by putting a digger in the ground and splitting a line through the property diagonally, to lay electricity for lighting.  We had to do a special healing ceremony for the land, to repent for the cut we made.  The split in the land upset the energies of the property and made people who love each other quarrel and bicker.

In the same manner that we checked the land and the house before offering to buy it, to make sure that the energies here were right for the women and the work to be done, we would not reach for a spiritual practice or religion that had blood on its hands.  If murders and pedophilia and dark plots lurk there in the history of the enterprise, we don’t want it.  

We are starting anew.

Our holy trinity is S.A.S.  Yes, because we are political activists, we do ‘give sass’ (now and again), as Brother Emery calls it, but no, the acronym stands for Service, Activism, and Spirituality.   The most important part of our ancient-wisdom medicine-making is the environment the products are made in.  Therefore, we sought a pure place.  An untarnished little farm, a little closer to the gangster-town than we might have preferred, but the land, all the same, is clean.

We would not do our Activism, if it required blood or harm to anyone.  Burning fuel to get to our events is harm enough, and we pray for forgiveness and try to double up.  We yearn for solar powered cars, but what we have is fossil-fuel-burning carriages.

We approach our activism and perform our activism with pure hearts, good intentions, and would not go where dark forces gather.  The intention of our activism is to inform, educate, elucidate, where the media machine would rather you remain ignorant.

In service to the people through the cannabis plant, we are working in a space of ‘no harm’, because try though they might, no-one has ever died from an overdose of the Cannabis medicine.

And finally, our spirituality.  We are Beguine revivalists.  

The Beguines pre-dated Christianity and though they lived together, dressed alike, and prayed together, their mission was not to spread any kind of dogma.  Their mission was to rescue women from poverty and give them independence and property (wealth).  They were very good at it.

They were so good at it that during different times through-out their history, they were persecuted by different religious and political groups – mainly because the products they made were of such consistently high quality, and because their work had garnered them such loyal followings.  The attacks on them were for jealousy of their success, and because the Beguine mission was to empower women.    Our research indicates that in medieval times in Europe, many towns had Beguine villages within their castle walls and many travelers came from far and wide to purchase their products.

Eschewing Christianity is not because we are ‘anti-Christian’ – we are not.  It is simply that our practices identify with our pre-Christian mothers, those early enclaves, whose stories and practices were largely lost to history because they existed before books and written records.  Because of the lack of information, we must use our own imagination and intuition to build something akin to what their lives would have been.

This Yule Tide Season, I want a book on the Beguines, and more importantly -- time to read it.  But I am interested in the ancient Beguines, not the ones that recorded history is most likely to discuss – the Catholic Beguines.  

The first Catholic nun didn’t come about until the late 800’s, and I am interested in the enclaves of our Beguine mothers before that, because I am pretty sure that their conversion to Catholicism was coerced.  And that this move to Catholicism actually accelerated their extinction (just a personal theory at this point).

Because Christianity (widespread) happened when the first books became distributable, one might falsely come to the conclusion that our Beguine mothers were Catholics.  That would be un-true.  The Beguines were around long before Catholicism became mainstream.  The Beguines thrived during the dark and middle ages, when daily life was not so well documented, but just because it isn’t written, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

It’s not a surprise that the first book mass produced was the Bible, because the man who developed the printing press was Catholic.  I have to say I’m a bit surprised and pleased with the blunt Wikipedia entry on the history of the Bible (and the added apology to Catholics).

By 500 A.D. the Bible had been translated into over 500 languages. Just one century later, by 600 A.D., it has been restricted to only one language: the Latin Vulgate! The only organized and recognized church at that time in history was the Catholic Church of Rome, and they refused to allow the scripture to be available in any language other than Latin. Those in possession of non-Latin scriptures would be executed! This was because only the priests were educated to understand Latin, and this gave the church ultimate power… a power to rule without question… a power to deceive… a power to extort money from the masses. Nobody could question their “Biblical” teachings, because few people other than priests could read Latin. The church capitalized on this forced-ignorance through the 1,000-year period from 400 AD to 1,400 AD knows as the “Dark and Middle Ages”.

Pope Leo the Tenth established a practice called the “selling of indulgences” as a way to extort money from the people. He offered forgiveness of sins for a fairly small amount of money. For a little bit more money, you would be allowed to indulge in a continuous lifestyle of sin, such as keeping a mistress. Also, through the invention of “Purgatory”, you could purchase the salvation of your loved-one’s souls. The church taught the ignorant masses . . . Pope Leo the Tenth showed his true feelings when he said, “The fable of Christ has been quite profitable to us!”

Editorial Note: Let us state at this point, that it is not our intent to offend or “bash” Roman Catholics. It is unavoidable that every historical account has its “good guys” and its “bad guys”. Just as it is impossible to accurately tell the story of World War Two without offending the Germans and the Italians who were undeniably the enemies of world peace at that time… it is equally impossible to accurately tell the story of the English Bible without unintentionally offending those who continue to revere the Roman Catholic and Anglican Churches.

The Beguines thrived during the dark and middle ages.  They were focused on helping the women.  Their methods and order and spirituality drew women of all classes.  They built housing and many devoted their lives to the enclaves and when they died, left their wealth to the enclave so more unfortunates could be brought in, taught a trade, put to work, given honorable lives.  They didn’t live in the same house, but clustered their homes.  They owned businesses and houses, grew their own food and hemp and made clothing for themselves and to sell.  They made medicines for themselves and to sell.  They made jobs.  That was their mission.  That is ours.

Right now, this planet has a lot in common with the dark and middle ages.  Just like back then, women and children suffer the brunt of the poverty stick.  Just like back then, there is a certain hopelessness that sickens the spirit, when people cannot have gainful employment.  There is a malaise that happens when the deck is stacked against you – born poor, die poor.  We are re-living that again.  I call it the castle syndrome.  But we, the descendants of the Beguines, intend to occupy the castle, as our ancient mothers once did.

Taking a Trip on the Good Ship Could've Been (Oct 2016)

Originally published October 8th, 2016.

I woke up at six a.m. intent on pressing and preparing all the gowns for all the Sisters.  Instead, I spent the next thirty minutes looking for our iron (found buried under clothes in a laundry basket) and no one in the abbey, or working for the abbey, got by that morning without a lecture on how irons are integral to being a sister.  How everything has a place and must be kept in that place.  How the iron is essential to our grooming.  How we can get away with being wrinkled for farm work, but not acceptable for activist events.  I was so annoyed.

Nonetheless, I was smiling as I got in the car because at seven-thirty, on the dot, all road trip personnel were assembled, pressed and crisp, and ready to rock and roll.   And we pulled into the Capitol Building parking structure in Sacramento at precisely ten o’clock. 

Everything runs right on time . . . years of practice and design.

The night before, I finally studied the sixty-page document that makes up Prop 64, the recreational marijuana legalization bill on the California ballot next month.  I knew I would be sitting at the Yes on Prop 64 table.   I knew my Sisters would be with the ‘Yes’ side of the audience.   It was being held on the Capitol steps, and politicians and media would be there, I was told. 

I saw no signs of either group in attendance, actually, but we did have a Citizens’ debate and that is the nourishment that drew me.  As activists, we are used to being ignored by both the politicians and the media.  That is just, yawn, status quo.

I went to Sacramento believing the debate would be – should we allow recreational marijuana or shouldn’t we?  I anticipated the tired old arguments about it getting in the hands of children, or encouraging use of it by all – kids and non-kids.  I quickly realized what my fellow panelists already knew. This debate wasn’t about that at all.

I asked for a show of hands from the No to Prop 64 side.  

How many of you don’t want to see recreational marijuana legalized?  No show of hands.  “Now, how many of you are sitting on the ‘No to Prop 64’ side because you think this bill is all wrong, too much power in the hands of the legislators, too much taxes . . .?”  I didn’t have to finish.  All the hands went up.

I was thrilled.  It appeared that every person there believes recreational marijuana should be legalized.  There was no debate from the people who say “NO” to rec. 

The debate became:  should we legalize now, with this big pharma bill, or should we wait and try to get it right, like Ohio did?  (Ohio passed on medical marijuana when the only bill on the ballot formed a four-company State monopoly.)  The voters didn’t reject it because they don’t want medical marijuana in their state, they rejected it because it was a corrupt bill and they know they can do better.  

I get it.  I understand and am empathetic to the No-on-Prop-64-because-we-can-do-better Team.  MCLR was better.  CCLR was better.  All of the initiatives that didn’t make it to the ballot, were better.  But guess what?  They didn’t make it to the ballot.  So our choice is now Recreational or No Recreational. 

To get Recreational cannabis, we have to put up with interference and taxation from eight different State agencies named in the proposition:

                Board of Equalization

                State Water Resources Control Board

                Department of Fish and Wildlife

                Department of Consumer Affairs

                Department of Public Health

                Department of Food and Agriculture

                Bureau of State Audits

                Bureau of Marijuana Control

We have taxation rights in here that will make sure the black market never goes away – which is, by the way, opposite the mission of the proposition.  We have a track and trace program that is just new chains, invented solely for keeping the plants and the people of the plants in chains.  I get it.  I agree, the other bills were better.  But the other bills aren’t on the ballot.  At this point, sticking with this argument is like taking a ride on the good ship “could’ve been”.

I used the analogy of human slavery.  The cannabis plant and her people have been kept in the dark, chained, beaten, starved, maligned, and cursed.  Now the slave-owner has extended sunlight and food, and lighter, more comfortable chains.  Prop 64 and all those agencies above who plan to feed off the sweat of the slave, they are, by their nature, racist, unfair, and the enemies of the cannabis plant.

But do we, the slaves, deny the sunlight, food and lighter chains?  With more than eight thousand felony arrests every year that will go away with Prop 64, can we afford to wait another day?

Here’s what Prop 64 does right:

Anti-corruption clauses restricting the licensing folks from dipping their fingers in the business.

Promotion of small business via a five-year delay before big grow licenses are issued.

Minors who deal or use will stop going to jail.  Stop draining their parents’ savings to keep them from going to jail.  Replaced with drug counseling and limited fines.   The drug counseling is free and the fines are less than what Fresno State charges a college student for j-walking.

It gives the courts authority to re-sentence people who are being penalized that wouldn’t be after Prop 64 goes into effect.

It re-affirms the Compassionate Use Act of 1996 and all those rights.

It prohibits liquor stores from selling cannabis (yeah!)

But mostly, it dis-empowers the police.  Every home in the state, every property, has the right to six indoor plants and the cities and counties can’t regulate that away.  This is a serious step for plant freedom.

If I was on the fence about Prop 64 before going to the debate, sitting up there opposite the anti-Prop 64 people was enough to push me all the way over, firmly, happily, with the Yes folks.  It’s because the No folks are angry and frustrated and apparently, desperate to get people to see it their way.

Here is some of the spin worth noting:

1. THE BILL DOESN’T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT MEDICAL! They proclaimed this as if it is a great secret sin of the Proposition 64.  The truth is, Prop 64 is about recreational marijuana.  The governor and MMRSA have already got Medical on its path for over-regulation.
2. IT ONLY ALLOWS FOR ONE OUNCE OF WEED TO CARRY! They proclaimed the unfairness of this based on MEDICAL needs of patients, they kept saying “This isn’t right for my veterans” (your veterans?) and one panelist claimed to smoke two ounces per day for his medical condition.  Those vets and that panelist can still have their two ounces a day, through the medical program.  We are talking about REC!  They kept mixing medical into the equation to confuse and scare.  (But seriously, anyone who has to smoke two ounces a day needs to look into concentrates and better weed.)
3. MORE PEOPLE WILL GO TO JAIL THAN EVER BEFORE! This was a claim based on the fact that the old rules for MEDICAL (again, they couldn’t stop mixing issues) disappear at the end of 2018.  If a collective hasn’t gotten their license from the licensing board by then, then YES, they have to close and if they don’t, they will go to jail.  Does this sound like 8,800 felonies a year from Cannabis?  Do you think that there are 8,800 collectives a year that will be denied licenses and so all those folks will be imprisoned?  I don’t think so.  8,800 is the number of citizens per year that are being sentenced now, without Prop 64.
4. They accused the YES team of working for big money.   To the left of me sat a hemp radio program host who spends all his life understanding the changing laws in the various states.   To the right of me sat a lawyer who went to prison for five years for growing cannabis for his dying mother.  And then there was me. 
5. In their rebuttals, they would say things like, “Listening to them is like listening to Trump” and “We need a real debate”.  Yes, they said ‘this isn’t a real debate’ and now who sounds like Trump?

Their arguments were emotional, but there wasn’t much of an audience to hear them anyway and of the audience we did have, the majority sat on the No side.  Not "NO" on rec marijuana, just NO on such heavy handed legislation.  

While I was speaking, one man on the No side hollered “What do you know?  You don't pay taxes!  You work for the Vatican”.  That drew laughter from the folks who know us.  I replied, “We aren’t Catholic” and he said “Well, then, what the hell are you?”  Now that’s a good question.  

For the record, we aren't non-profit, we aren't in the psychotropics business; neither the recreational bills nor the medical marijuana legislation really apply to us -- neither of them do, and for the record, we pay all taxes and have no desire to be a tax-exempt organization, like, er, the NFL, for example.  No desire whatsoever.

According to every recent survey, Prop 64 is going to pass.  That’s not why I sat in the debate on the Pro-Prop 64 side, but the fact perhaps lent an air of confidence and calmness to the Yes side that the No table didn’t have.   Except for me.  I never do activism calmly.  But my debate-mates were calm.

The only legitimate argument for voting No on proposition 64 is because it gives the government too much control.  I don’t trust the government either, so we plan to activate against MMRSA (the marijuana control board) and we will make them reform.  But in the meantime, we will not refuse the sunlight, nourishment and lighter chains.