By Catherine Viel, July 27, 2021
(Golden Age of Gaia)
July 26, 2021
“Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.” ~ Theodore Roosevelt
The drumbeats are sounding. Be prepared! It’s coming! It’s here!
I look out the window. Same placid suburban street with too many parked cars. Nobody panicking. Nobody waving arms over heads as they flee, shrieking, for safety…somewhere.
What kind of revolution is this, anyway? Apparently it’s the “sit and wait” kind. And, we’re periodically reminded, don’t be caught unaware. Prepare, prepare, prepare.
I admire the dedication of those who’ve been living a prepper life for decades. I’ve seen the “year’s worth of food” mega-tubs at Costco and been tempted by them when they’re on sale. A little tempted. Not enough to do more than glance at them and move on.
That’s as far as I ever get with scarcity preparation, because I know this about myself: I can’t live with a perpetual doomsday scenario running in the back of my mind. I can’t imagine people fighting for dwindling supplies in a wasteland of urban destruction. It’s so beyond anything outside the fictitious bounds of video screens, I just can’t take it seriously (which has been described as exactly what the globalists want—to make people like me think, “It’s not real, so I won’t worry about it”).
I don’t take it as seriously as perhaps I ought, but luckily, others do treat the possibility of shortages with utmost respect, and prepare accordingly. I bless these fellow citizens and am grateful they exist. After all, I could be knocking on that well-prepared neighbor’s door one day, empty plate in hand and hope in my heart.
The scarcity scenario might happen. Is it possible? Sure. Likely? Well…that depends on whom you ask.
*****
It is a bit puzzling that I can be at peace with what many would call a ridiculously unrealistic attitude toward my own survival and that of my small family. Nobody else is going to buy us extra cat food and litter, or stock up on beans, rice, gallons of water and tins of canned fruit and veg.
I reassure myself that most of my Armageddon closet is intact. I haven’t needed to raid it for meal prep, and frankly, I’ve kind of forgotten about it. I open the door and peek inside. Yep, still a bunch of stuff in there.
Doing what I can with what I’ve got best sums up my prepper philosophy, if I can even dignify it by calling it a philosophy.
I remind myself that just a few miles away sits the massive warehouse and headquarters of the highly regarded disaster relief organization, Direct Relief. And there are many grocery stores within a fifteen-mile radius. Warehouse merchants like Costco, just three miles away. Are they all going to run out of supplies simultaneously?
I hear you, dear readers who are muttering at the device screen right now, telling me I’m a fool to take chances. In some ways, I absolutely agree with you.
*****
I’m embodying a balance between trust, sovereignty, and practicality. I trust that my inner wisdom—my sovereign self—isn’t failing me when I heed its directives.
I listen to its advice: “Don’t worry too much about this. Circumstances could get very dire throughout the world, but you know your community and the resources that are right here, right now. They’re aren’t going to disappear overnight.”
My sovereign self is also practical. It continues, “You could pick up a few extras on your next trip to the store. Pack that Armageddon closet a bit fuller. And don’t forget litter and food for the kitties. You know they’ll go through it eventually. Nothing will be wasted.”
That seems the most practical of all. Nothing will be wasted. Not even the whiffs of worry about this topic that drift through my mind.
It’s just one more bit of emotional processing for the books. Once it’s over, it can be forgotten, laid to rest in the vault of things I needn’t think of again.
