Humans: Chronically savage to one another and to " God's creatures."

Animal abuse - we have to get to work on this.

by Deborah Greaves on Thursday, May 5, 2011 at 11:52am

 

I saw a link through Kelowna Events on Facebook, announcing a movie made by Nation Earth called 'Earthlings', with Joachim Phoenix ( hope I've spelled the actor's name correctly ) . 
"Earthlings" is about animal abuse all over the world - much of it completely routine; regular and accepted practice.

I watched just a few minutes of the film's TRAILER and am devastated, couldn't sleep last night. Thought I'd been innoculated years ago by photos sent to me and a book about domestic food animals written by John Robbins, yet the few images I could manage to keep my eyes on are seared into my retinas.

I believe that watching this film, Earthlings, is capable of actual psychological damage to any caring person- and I seriously don't believe I personally could cope with a full viewing. However, now that I have been reminded of what's going on out there I am feeling increasingly obligated to work/write on the ongoing problem in every way one individual can.

I am resolved to start close to home and find out where a slaughterhouse for horses is reputed to be committing routine atrocities on animals that are killed there. I will continue to purchase NO veal, no eggs that are not free range and whenever possible, humanely raised beef. I am also resolved to investigate the allegation that Canada's laws regarding the transport of domestic livestock in one of the most lax in the developed world.

I'll share any findings, results, changes or actions on the Facebook page, Air Water Earth Publications, and possibly my blogspot: http://guidetothewildside.blogspot.com/

Confession : where her soul lives

 Confession

by Deborah Greaves on Monday, April 4, 2011 

 

My soul's outside under the rocks, the leaves, the snow, the rain. It lives in the furrows of the bark on the trees, in the dappled light on pools of water and among the waving grasses. It soars into the air in the moonlight, rests among the shadows and gleams on the water where my canoe paddle dips.

My soul lingers in the print of a wild hoof and the scars of a feral claw, in the tiny blooms that spring from the earth and the delicate mosses that cling to fallen stems.

My soul is out there, almost all the time, in the forest and the meadows. It comes inside only to share the glow of flickering candlelight or the primal beauty of a fire. When the flames are silent and darkness falls, it slips through the window casings and around the edges of the doors to be outside and free again.