I saw the most awesome program on PBS tonight, "Closer to Truth." This one was on agnosticism and it set my soul on fire. I just kept saying, "Yes! Yes! Yes!" to the tv. Lots of people I've never heard of and one I've seen before, several times, Lenny Susskind. I've always heard him talk about Physics, so it was a treat to hear him address some of the metaphysical implications of his work.

I'm going to be watching it again online, along with other episodes. You can, too, at www.closertotruth.com. Lots of fodder for my hungry psyche, just when I need it. A definite avenue to follow away from my very painful, hurting, deep depression of late.

More on all of this when I've had more time for exploration and digestion. It feels SO good to be excited about something.

BTW, tyvvvm to a dear friend who chatted me up tonight. She also worked miracles in my attitude.

This is a problem that will be foreign to most gardeners. It's spring here; it's time to get a garden going. AND, I have no soil. I live in the high desert, so the "soil" is hard pan. The constant winds blow all the top soil away as fast as it is created, unless something is planted to hold it in place.

My dream is to turn all this (almost an acre) hard pan into great garden soil with a heavy-duty rototiller. My dream is the top-of-the-line Troybilt tiller, Big Red. I could recycle much of our home "trash," not just food and typical compostable materials, but also things like shredded newspapers. I have a neighbor across the street who would gladly give me all the compostable horse manure I can cart home. This is difficult because I am physically unable to do a lot of things that are involved, from pulling the cart, to loading and unloading it, but it's not impossible.

My only other choice is to purchase soil, whether by the ton (more shoveling and hauling) or the bag. It also means finding border material to contain the raised beds that would be created, plus finding ways to make sure that the soil stays in place when our winds kick up. (60mph sustained gusts are not uncommon around here.)

I have used the rototiller I'm speaking of; I used to own one. It truly was as simple as walking alongside the tiller and holding the controls to keep the clutch and motor engaged. We grew eight kinds of tomatoes and a dozen different lettuces, plus beets, potatoes, corn, green beans...you get the picture.

At this point, it would feed us to a large extent, but it would also furnish a way to generate extra income, because we could produce far more food than we could eat and preserve. And, what couldn't be eaten, preserved or sold could be donated to food banks or shelters. Plus, with a small trailer or a basic small pickup truck, e could till other people's property for income.

I guess what I'm doing here is putting it out to the universe. I want a Troybilt Big Red (with the hiller/furrower attachment). My credit won't handle it and I certainly don't have the spare $3000 lying around. It looks impossible, but that doesn't make it so. I'm declaring for this and the universe shall provide. And so it is.

Okay, folks, this is a weird one for me. I don't normally "predict" events so much as I expose individual "trends" for the person I'm reading for. So, this one came out of the blue, while I was having lunch with a great friend, visiting, chatting, laughing, celebrating the end of her chemo (long story, but she's okay).

I could feel the earth shaking. I don't mean trembling, I don't mean a "Gee, are we having an earthquake, I'll bet it's not even a 4.0" for those of you who live in places where earthquakes are a fact of life. I still remember a news anchor saying, as she reported on a 3.6 or so quake, "hey, they don't even count if they aren't at least a 4.0!" (Tritia Toyota, for those who remember her)

I could feel and see massive devastation, terror, change on a scale that I can't even imagine, I can only feel the horror of the people experiencing the event.

What I was seeing was the Pacific Northwest, Puget Sound, Seattle, Vancouver, Vancouver Island, the Alaskan panhandle, coastal Oregon, really, everything on the Pacific coast that isn't protected by a large mountain range, including southern California.

The fear, sadness, horror, terror, grief...all almost overwhelming. I stopped what I was doing and started crying and I couldn't stop. My very strong feeling was three to six months time from now. I just wanted to scream, Get out!" at everyone in those areas.

My friend was able to "talk me down" and get some foundation under me, for that's what it felt like, the very foundation was being ripped from under me. Her feeling was yes, something is coming, but that I was feeling the worst of the possibilities, not necessarily the actuality of events to occur.

I went home from lunch, still feeling moderately upset, but I am not one who takes myself seriously about this sort of thing. I am a psychic whose biggest, well, critic isn't the right word. Let's just say that I work at not taking myself seriously. Still, I couldn't seem to step away from this one.

The next thing I know, my brother is telling me that there is an interesting documentary coming on in a few minutes, about the Cascadia subduction zone and the fact that several scientific sources are saying that it may be the next super quake to happen on the ring of fire. The Cascadia plate is slipping under the (I believe) North American plate, and the problems occur when the plates "stick" rather than smoothly sliding. Apparently, there are several obvious signs that they are sticking.

The Cascadian plate extends from the Straits of Juan de Fuca, north of Puget Sound, southward to northern California. It would also intersect with several other significant faults, the most well known being the San Andreas.

All I know is this scares me. And, crazy as it may make me sound, I can't just stay quiet. I would encourage you top do your own research on the Cascadia subduction zone and the possibile consequences of a major event involving this fault. What I'm finding is the possibility of a quake magnitude 8.0 to 9.0 or higher, and 30 meter tsunamis.

It's 6:20 in the morning and I'm not sure what I'm doing awake and up. Actually, I woke up about 4:30 but it took me a while to decide I was hungry enough not to go back to sleep. So now, here I sit, a piece of Dave's Killer 21-Grain (double toasted) with fresh peanut butter and a half liter of half coffee (Tanzanian Peaberry) and half vanilla Silk under my figurative belt. I could go for more, actually, but I used the last of the peanut butter and I don't really need any more right now, it would just be a comfort.

No gray to the sky yet, but it's that time of the day when the hoot of the owl out front blends with the crows of the roosters around us. Those moments before daybreak, when you tend to feel thoughtful, even if there's nothing on your mind. I've just been thinking about the decades that pass and the generations. Each has its influences, the switch from horses and buggies to cars, the patriotism and camaraderie of WWII, and let's not even get into "the 60's." I still can't believe that it's now 2011 and I'm almost 60, and freshly an orphan at that.

That owl keeps hooting, but he doesn't seem to have any answers. Still, he's a comfort; my mom always liked owls. And I'm sitting here in her chair, the day after we finally finished all the paperwork to settle her very small estate. Small, but enough to see us through a couple of months, if we're careful.

One of the cats just parted the curtains; there's enough light coming from the east to silhouette the big pines in the front yard. The day birds are all chirping; I guess they're waking each other up and arranging their schedules. I'll have another busy one, with dropping my brother off across town at 10am and picking him up whenever, visiting with a good friend and helping her with her web page, then, someone else calling later on to hear what I have to tell him about his meta tags and how messed up they are.

What I wouldn't give for a week alone here, no place to go, nothing to do but house stuff. Finally get my room clean, get the tomato seedlings started, make some pineapple bran muffins, make and freeze the spaghetti sauce. And there's that fish to be cooked and eaten, but I'll do that for lunch maybe anyway today.

A good friend talked me into entering things in the San Bernardino county fair, which is coming up in May. I went hog wild, as I am wont to do - pineapple bran muffins, whole wheat bread, orange rolls and my special no-salt, almost no sweetening (1 tbsp of honey for two huge loaves) cinnamon raisin bread. I haven't been to a county fair since Sonoma, and that was summer of 1992. This time there will be four of us who are in various stages of acquaintance/friendship with things entered, so we'll try to go together for moral support, to see how we did. One has oil paintings, one has photographs, one has models (including a very involved Titanic), and there's me with my baked goods. At least we're not competing with each other.

I'm amazed at the business my Google page is pulling in. I did a reading Friday, for a very nice man. If things work out, he's going to set my brother up to do some gold mining, still a very active and viable preoccupation in these parts. And, in the course of all of this, I discovered some luscious beef jerky, which you should check out.

That's all the excitement for now; I think I'm going back to bed. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the concept that there was no single big bang; there are big bangs happening constantly all over and new universes dying and being born. It's just another linearity trap to climb out of. Maybe I'll dream about it when I go back to bed. Toast, peanut butter, coffee and silk should be a good generator.

By the way, all my business lately seems to be coming from my Google page. Check it out, if'n you're of a mind.

I've been reading Gregg Braden lately, watching Morgan Freeman, asking questions, all those things I would usually be doing anyway, and have been all my life. Everybody is focused on 2012, specifically December 21, 2012. Braden isn't saying a lot that hasn't already been said, not that I'm against his repackaging the information for more people to absorb.

The one thing that really matters is when he says that this is a cycle, within other cycles, that has happened before and will happen again. And, we're already WAY immersed in the cycle. The thing Braden implies, but so far I haven't read him saying directly, is that these cycles aren't just recurring circles. Jerry Garcia implies it in "The Wheel."

The wheel is turning and you can't slow down,

You can't let go and you can't hold on,

You can't go back and you can't stand still,

If the thunder don't get you then the lightning will.

Small wheel turn by the fire and rod,

Big wheel turn by the grace of God,

Every time that wheel turn 'round,

Bound to cover just a little more ground.

The point to all of this is that we're not talking a merry-go-round here. You don't repeatedly end up in the same position. It's a spiral. It looks like history repeating, but it's more than that, much more. Braden talks about conditions repeating, but not necessarily with the same choices and outcomes. That's because it's a spiral, an ever ascending spiral. We will all be presented with new choices and opportunities, new directions and shifts in perspective.

He's right. I'm right. The answer is to seek new answers to old problems. I currently face many situations, family, economic and medical. And I KNOW it's going to be better than okay. I'm going to buy this totally impractical house that my family has rented for 16 years. And fix it up so that it's comfortable and livable, which will probably cost as much as buying it. I can't tell you how, because I don't know. I only know that it will be happen. And we will become as self-sufficent as possibile, from food to electricity.

Meanwhile, I'll be making spaghetti sauce tomorrow, and bran muffins the next day. And I need to make bread. And my room, oh lord, how I need to clean my room, do laundry, set up an office in the side room, shop, get lab work and a chest xray...and I'll be continuing to keep my radar up and my imagination open.