#discovery of the century. will be rediscoving this all over again in like 4 days time. will be just as groundbreaking.

[clowndensation]

omg just cleaned my glasses and you guys are never going to believe this... the world isn't naturally smudged and foggy.....

[a-motivation-to-study]

Books to Read in 2019

This past year I finished reading MAYBE 2 books. How incredibly disappointing is that? In high school I read ALL THE TIME, and I have a whole wall covered in books, yet I have barely read! I’m really going to force myself to read more this next year. I know for a FACT that my semester next year will hinder my goal, but I’m hoping to follow this plan as closely as I can (although I am darn positive that I probably won’t be able to finish all of these). Most of these books I have selected relate to other personal goals I hope to achieve. The boldened titles are the books I feel are most important in my personal growth (and thus the books I will read first). I’m also hoping my love for reading can be reignited. I know a lot of us can lose the habit of reading, especially with busy college schedules, so I’ve added the descriptions of the books (from the back or from the amazon descriptions) I hope to read in case any of you would also like to read more!

Productivity Books

1. The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen R. Covey

In The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People People, author Stephen          R. Covey presents a holistic, integrated, principal-centered approach for         solving personal and professional problems. With penetrating insights and pointed anecdotes, Covey reveals a step-by-step pathway for living  with       fairness, integrity, honesty, and human dignity- principles that give us the      security to adapt to change, and the wisdom and power to take advantage of the opportunities that change creates. 

2. Getting Things Done by David Allen 

In today’s world, yesterday’s methods just don’t work. Veteran coach and        management consultant David Allen shares his his breakthrough methods for stress-free performance that he has introcued to tens of thousands of people  across the country. Aleen’s premis is simple: our productivity is directly   proportional to our ability to relax. Only when our minds are clear and our thoughts are organized can we achieve effective results and unleash our creative potential. From core principles to proven tricks, Getting Things Dones can transform the way you work an live, showing you how to pick up the pace without wearing yourself down. 

Meditation and Buddhist Books (from Wisdom Publications mostly)

3. Zen Vows for Daily Life by Robert Aitken

Zen Vows for Daily Life is a collection of gathas, vows in verse form for daily practice, similar to prayers or affirmations for use at home, at work, and in the meditation hall itself. Reciting these poetic vows can help us be fully present in each moment and each activity of our lives. These gathas serve as gentle reminders to return again and again to our highest aspirations, with acceptance, joy, and compassion—for ourselves and all beings. Zen Vows for Daily Life will be a steadfast companion in keeping the reader inspired and committed on their spiritual path.

4. A Heart Full of Peace by Joseph Goldstein

Love, compassion, and peace—these words are at the heart of all spiritual endeavors. Although we intuitively resonate with their meaning and value, for most of us, the challenge is how to embody what we know: how to transform these words into a vibrant, living practice. In these times of conflict and uncertainty, this transformation is far more than an abstract ideal; it is an urgent necessity. Peace in the world begins with us. This wonderfully appealing offering from one the most trusted elders of Buddhism in the West is a warm and engaging exploration of the ways we can cultivate and manifest peace as wise and skillful action in the world.

This charming book is illuminated throughout with lively, joyous, and sometimes even funny citations from a host of contemporary and ancient sources—from the poetry of W.S. Merwin and Galway Kinnell to the haiku of Issa and the great poet-monk Ryokan, from the luminous aspirations of Saint Francis of Assisi to the sage advice of Thich Nhat Hanh and the Dalai Lama.

5. Open Mind by B. Allan Wallace 

Lerab Lingpa (1856–1926), also known as Tertön Sogyal, was one of the great Dzogchen (Great Perfection) masters of the nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries and a close confidant and guru of the Thirteenth Dalai Lama. This volume contains translations by B. Alan Wallace of two works that are representative of the lineage of this great “treasure revealer,” or tertön. This volume will be of great interest for all those interested in the theory and practice of the Great Perfection and the way it relates to the wisdom teachings of Tsongkhapa and others in the new translation schools of Tibetan Buddhism.

6. Interconnected by Ogyen Tinley Dorje

Plucked from a humble nomad family to become the leader of one of Tibet’s oldest Buddhist lineages, the young Seventeenth Karmapa draws on timeless values to create an urgent ethic for today’s global community. The Karmapa shows us how gaining emotional awareness of our connectedness can fundamentally reshape the human race. He then guides us to action, showing step by step how we can change the way we use the earth’s resources and can continue to better our society. In clear language, the Karmapa draws connections between such seemingly far-flung issues as consumer culture, loneliness, animal protection, and self-reliance. In the process, he helps us move beyond theory to practical and positive social and ethical change.

7. I Wanna Be Well by Miguel Chen

A punk rocker’s guide to grow, learn, and appreciate the present moment—in short, to live a life that doesn’t totally suck.

8. Discovering Your Soul Signature by Panache Desai

Your soul signature is your spiritual DNA - it is who you are at your core, the most authentic part of you, and your singular contribution to this world. And yet, we reject our authentic selvs. We allow our soul sigature to become blocked by any number of emotional obstacles that life throws in ou path: anger, fear, guilt, shame, sadness, despair. Any or all of these feelings overtake us and create a density, a heaviness that doesn’t permit us to embrace who we truly are, deep inside. We are energetic beings, Panache Desai reminds us, and emotions are energy in motion. When we are blocked we feel unworthy, less than, unloved, incomplete. 

In Discovering Your Soul Signature, Panache Desai invites us on a 33-day path of meditations-- shot passages to be read at morning, noon, and night that are designed to dismantle the emotional burden that holds us back and open us up to changing our lives. Through this distilled, poetic, practical, and inspiring course, he invites us to live a life of authenticity, to rediscover purpose and passion, and to believe from our soul in the possibility of all things.

9. As Man Thinketh by James Allen 

This little volume (the result of meditation and experience) is not intended as an exhaustive treatise on the much-written upon subject of the power of thought. It is suggestive rather than explanatory, its object being to stimulate men and women to the discovery and perception of the truth that -

"They themselves are makers of themselves"       by virtue of the thoughts which they choose and encourage; that mind is the master weaver, both of the inner garment of character and the outer garment of circumstance, and that, as they may have hitherto woven in ignorance and pain they may now weave in enlightenment and happiness.

Religious Books 

10. The Miracle of Forgiveness by Spencer W. Kimball

In The Miracle of Forgiveness, President Spencer W Kimball gives a penetrating explanation of repentance and forgiveness and clarifies their implications for Church members. His in-depth approach shows that the need for forgiveness is universal; portrays the various facets of repentance, and emphasizes some of the more serious errors, particularly sexual ones, which afflict both modern society and Church members. Most important, he illuminates his message with the brightness of hope that even those who have gone grievously astray may find the way back to peace and security. Never before has any book brought this vital and moving subject into so sharp a focus. This classic book is a major work of substance and power.

Science Books

11. God’s Equation by Amir D. Aczel

In God’s Equation, Amir Aczel tells the story of what lies between these events: the history of modern physics and the development of the sciene of cosmology, the study of the nature of the universe. 

Other Books

12. A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess

In Anthony Burgess's nightmare vision of the future, where criminals take over after dark, the story is told by the central character, Alex, who talks in a brutal invented slang that brilliantly renders his and his friends' social pathology. A Clockwork Orange is a frightening fable about good and evil, and the meaning of human freedom. When the state undertakes to reform Alex—to "redeem" him—the novel asks, "At what cost?"

13. Walden and Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau

In 1845, Thoreau moved to a cabin that he built with his own hands along the shores of Walden Pond in Massachusetts. Shedding the trivial ties that he felt bound much of humanity, Thoreau reaped from the land both physically and mentally, and pursued truth in the quiet of nature. In Walden, he explains how separating oneself from the world of men can truly awaken the sleeping self. Thoreau holds fast to the notion that you have not truly existed until you adopt such a lifestyle—and only then can you reenter society, as an enlightened being.   These simple but profound musings—as well as “Civil Disobedience,” his protest against the government’s interference with civil liberty—have inspired many to embrace his philosophy of individualism and love of nature. More than a century and a half later, his message is more timely than ever.

14. The Art of Worldly Wisdom by Baltasar Gracian

In the Art of Worldly Wisdom Baltasar Gracian gives us pertinent and pithy advice on friendship, leadership, and success. Think of it as Machiavelli with a soul. This book is for those who wish to have an ambitious plan for success without compromising their integrity or losing their way. Audacious and captivating!

15. For One More Day by Mitch Albom

For One More Day is the story of a mother and a son, and a relationship that lasts a lifetime and and beyond. It explores the question: What would you do if you could spend one more day with a lost loved one?

[notgoingtohappen]

Eight Emotions Of The Afterlife — Steroline Drabble

Plot: Caroline Forbes finds peace in heaven.

Dedicated to: @sowanted and @allison-laheys. Shipping Steroline wouldn't have been the same without you two 💖

Summary: Despite having waited for this moment for an eternity, Stefan was stunned. He couldn't believe it was actually happening. Finally.

"Caroline." He breathed, rushing towards her as she sped over to him at the same time, and wrapping her in his arms.

Stefan's embrace was the safest place in the world, and Caroline never wanted to let go.

1. Shock

Caroline heard herself gasp sharply, as if from a distance.

She was dazed, her mind blank and struggling to process, as faint terror began to claw its way in.

Was this really happening?

2. Stillness

Her eyes fluttered shut, the pain and panic melting away into a different emotion. One of soft calm.

White slowly burned into the endless black of her eyelids, as a feeling of weightlessness overcame her.

Her head swam, and she felt gloriously light, untethered. This wasn't so bad. It was warm and soothing.

3. Acceptance

She had lived for more centuries that she'd care to admit. She had loved and lost more people than anyone should ever have to. She'd done everything, seen everything, felt everything, and been everything she'd ever wanted.

She had never let herself truly think of it, but now she realised that she was ready.

4. Letting go

The last speck of black in her vision glowed white, and she thought she might even be smiling a little.

5. Coming home

When she opened her eyes, she was standing in Mystic Falls, on the street in front of her house.

Everything before her was tinged with a dark yellow, like a whole other world. It gave her a sense of comfort.

So this was the afterlife.

Taking a deep breath, she walked up the steps and it was the most familiar thing in the world. Like nothing had ever changed.

She pushed open the door cautiously, a little anxious, very curious and most of all, hopeful. She was going to see her family again.

6. Joy

Her eyes first landed on two beautiful young women standing in the living room, and tears came to her eyes at once.

It had been so many years, centuries since she'd seen them in anything other than framed photographs.

"Mom!" Lizzy cried out as Caroline sped over to them in the blink of an eye, pulling her daughters into a hug.

"My babies!" Caroline exclaimed, tears falling freely now.

"You're finally here." Josie wiped her cheeks before the three of them laughed, elated.

From the corner of her eye, Caroline saw a figure rise from the sofa and gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

Liz Forbes beamed at her daughter, her eyes shining.

"Mom." Caroline whispered, unable to believe one person could be this utterly happy. She laughed again and hugged her, and she swore something in her heart that had broken the day cancer took her mother from her, finally healed.

"I missed you so much! I can't believe it."

"I know, and I was there watching over you every single day." Her mother smiled.

Caroline realised that heaven seemed to glow with calm.

7. Love

Caroline turned as she heard the door behind her burst open.

Stefan stood before her, staring at her like she could dissolve into thin air any second.

Like this was an illusion or a dream.

She knew because that's how she was looking at him too.

A beautiful mixture or relief and love flooded her chest and she smiled wide, the most natural response to seeing her best friend. Her husband.

The last time she had smiled at him like that was as she walked down the aisle towards him in her wedding gown.

Despite having waited for this moment for an eternity, Stefan was stunned. He couldn't believe it was actually happening. That they could see, hear, touch each other again.

"Caroline." He breathed, rushing towards her as she sped over to him at the same time, and wrapping her in his arms.

Stefan's embrace was the safest place in the world, and Caroline never wanted to let go.

She pulled away after what felt like hours, resting her arms on his chest and looking into his eyes for the old Stefan, her Stefan. And he was there, his eyes kind and full of love as always, and she smiled again, giddy with joy.

"I made you wait so long, didn't I?"

"Hey, I'm a patient guy." A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as they both remembered how scared they'd been upon realising their friendship had turned into love.

That had been a lifetime ago.

Her hand found his, and they gazed down, not even a bit surprised both were still wearing their wedding rings.

Stefan cupped her cheek and leaned in to kiss her, softly and slowly, as her arms wound around his neck and she pressed closer into him, into his warmth.

When he broke the kiss, both their broken hearts were finally whole again.

"Let's go home."

8. Peace

Ever since they'd walked into the boarding house, hand in hand, everything had been pure bliss.

Nights spent lost in each other, rediscovering everything there was to know, in between sighs and moans and touches that never failed to light fires within the other.

Early mornings spent lying curled into each other, sleeping​ as the dark sky turned pale gold and a new day began, Caroline's head gently resting on Stefan's chest, both their expressions ones of utter peace.

Mornings of laughter as Caroline tried and failed at cooking old Salvatore recipes, which Stefan then had to fix as Caroline sat at the counter and watched his movements appreciatively, pretending to observe.

Afternoons Caroline spent chatting with Bonnie and Elena, or her parents, or her daughters, or Jo, surprised that a woman she had known a few months would have something so precious in common with her, while Stefan played pool with Lexi or drank Bourbon with Damon and Enzo or spent time with Lily.

Evenings sitting on the bench outside the armoury, or on the front steps, or curled up in a blanket by the fire, Caroline telling Stefan about everything he'd missed as he held her close, already knowing it all.

They talked about everything. Stefan told her he watched her at the funeral and every time she cried herself to sleep missing him, wanting more than anything to let her know he was there. Caroline told him that when she got to know he had heard her message, she'd been overcome with relief, terrified he'd never heard her goodbye. Stefan told her he'd been with her and Damon in the crypt and knew he didn't deserve her, someone who loved him so wholly, when she said she'd see him again. They'd both cried then, remembering how cruelly they had been ripped apart hours after their wedding, without even a real goodbye.

Her first Christmas in heaven, Caroline woke up to an empty bed, just like their last Christmas together. She found Stefan standing before the brilliantly decorated tree, a small carved box in his hand. She shook the snow globe that was inside it, and the multitude of lights glittering on the tree bounced off it, and she thought she'd never seen anything more beautiful.

When she was at parties with her entire family, her friends and their families, she thought she'd never known such tranquility and love her entire life.

When Stefan suddenly pulled her to him one night in the kitchen and they slow danced, his fingers splayed across her waist and her head resting against his chest, Caroline felt indescribable contentment, more than she'd ever felt in her whole life.

When she dragged him outside under a million stars and they walked in the cool air of the dark green woods that glittered with moonlight, she felt this sense of freedom that nearly overwhelmed her.

When he surprised her with a trip around the world, she felt wonder as she took in the sights of beaches with crystal clear oceans, snowcapped mountains, towering cities, old palaces, ancient works of art, deserts, vibrant forests, and everything else the world had to offer. She found there was still excitement and discovery in this world, and that was strangely comforting.

They did everything they used to in life. They attended town events. They drove around aimlessly, without a map, and fell asleep cuddling in the back seat when it became dark. They sat in the greenhouse, basking in each other's company. She sang, he wrote. She binge watched movies, he read books. They were reunited with all of their friends, and never lacked company; everyone they had lost was with them again.

Best of all was there was finally absolutely nothing in the way of her and Stefan. They were happy. This was true peace, and they had earned it.

Their eternity spanned immortal and human lifetimes, life and death, the world of the living and the afterlife.

Just like they promised, they loved each other forever.

THE END

[maryalexandra25-blog]

What the Marine Corps Taught Me About Feminine Leadership In The 21st Century

It's 2015, and I'm surrounded by 10,000 crazy Tony Robbins fans

and Tony, a man so larger than life that he would make most Marines look and feel like toy soldiers says, "You are the average of the 5 people closest to you!" What does that even mean? It means that you are, quite literally, the average (from income level, to education, in your career advancement, and even down to the styles you like, the slangs you use, and FB groups you are a part of) of the 5 people to whom you are the closest. Are you hearing this? It's kind of a very big deal, especially for women leaders. It took me nearly a decade in the Marines to lose myself. But only about four years out of the Corps, dedicated to personal growth, to discover myself again. And now, I'm going to help you condense that time frame even more! Along this self-discovery journey the thing that startled me the most was meeting so many women in leadership positions who were struggling with the same things I had, and who, like me during my active duty days, often could not put their finger on what the exact cause of their unhappiness was.  These are intelligent, successful and accomplished women!  That said, this IS about improving leadership, but more importantly, it's about rediscovering yourself. Learning to love yourself despite what your colleagues think, and despite what society considers to be "professional;" the leadership will improve naturally. 

I spent over $100K, and 4 years of my life immersed in education and personal development trying to understand my own psychology, what had happened (FOR ME) throughout my life, and the skills to fix it, and make sense of it all. It was after a mix of Tony Robbins, David Deida, and a hypnosis practitioner course instructed by Doctors Rachel Hott and Steven Leads at the NLP Center of New York, that I began to associate my lostness with masculine/feminine imbalance.

I realized that I had become socially conditioned to repress my femininity, and conform to other people's standards for what it meant to be a good working woman, a good leader, and a professional. Repressing my feminine and nurturing only my masculine side was killing me from the inside out.    But it was not ONLY conforming to the standards of others By virtue of proximity alone, I would have been cursed to adopt the mannerisms and attitudes of those I surrounded myself with. And for me, those people were hyper-masculine men. So in hind-sight, it made complete sense that I had to remove myself from that environment in order to regain my expressive freedom and begin to build a much more powerful leadership style, based on my true and authentic self.  So, what did the Marine Corps teach me about feminine leadership in the 21st century? This energetic imbalance is impacting countless women. As the number of women in leadership positions increase, it is imperative to our wellbeing, and thus the wellbeing of our organizations, that we remain authentic despite the pressure to conform. In order to do that, we must learn to value feminine attributes as a strength rather than a weakness or embarassment.  So I will leave you with one question and one suggestion: If you are feeling dissatisfied and confused about your life, despite your career, economic, and familial accomplishments, could you also be experiencing a masculine/feminine imbalance? If the answer is yes, here is one easy first piece of advice: Ditch the black and white, stop worrying about what so-and-so might think, and embrace more bold colors in your life! I promise, brightening up your life will get the ball rolling.  

[krisrampersad]

My Discoverie Columbus Lost and Found from New World To Old LettersToLizzie Sneak Preview

Dear Lizzie,

I discovered Columbus when I was about four years old and then I lost him again to rediscover him one fine sunset, his parts cut up and scattered across my world and yours, the way he cut up our continent and our peoples that became Your Majesty’s Empire.

Early explorations

I still remember the expression on his face. Pa looks baffled. So far, he is able to answer all my questions that end-of-July morning - the kind of morning that begins with sunshine warming the weathered unvarnished wooden gallery, bathing it in soft light and lending a calm cosy to the holiday feel. But every farmer’s daughter knows – if she took the time from the more pressing global inquisitionings – a day like this could brew thunder and torrential rains by mid-afternoon.

I must have agitated him, this early morn. He asks me to bring him a cigarette – his brand, named after an avenue in the city - and a box of matches.

I hand him a Three-Plumes match from its yellow box, a product of Trinidad Match Limited since 1887, it reads. I could read. Before that it was just a yellow box with red markings, and the dark red scratch sides. Reading material was scarce in rural Trinidad so I had taken to reading anything I could find and that usually was the packaging of any item. I would later learn that 1887 was the year Parisiens began to lay the foundation for the Eiffel Tower; and that Britain passed the Act to unite Trinidad with Tobago as it celebrated the golden Jubilee of Queen Victoria, just like your recent jubilee celebrations, and ours, Liz.

Pa scratches the match against the side of the box like my sister would, some years later, do a scratch lottery. It flares over the edge of the cigarette and flickers out, leaving a light stream of smoke behind it. He put it to his lips, leans back, closes his eyes and draws hard on the tobacco that has soothed many a shamanistic and other agitated spirits for millennia. It has also attracted as gold many-a-pilferer, marauder and cutthroat pirate to our parts from yours, as you well know, Dear Liz.

It is rare discovery for me as a child - Pa at home at this time of a morning. He is usually long gone by the time we are up, usually awake from 2 am. We would know from his deep coughing, caused by a head cold he caught working as a forester in his younger days which would hasten his end of days. By peek of dawn he would have already left for the vegetable garden or to the market to sell its produce that was our main source of income.

Now, facing the onslaught of curiosity, he is perhaps wishing he had kept this routine and head out early as I bounce around him in the early morning trying to get answers for these enormously challenging thoughts of universal import that collide like meteors in my child’s mind.

“So how did Columbus discover Trinidad?” The question pops into my head and pops out of my mouth as questions tend to do from near-four year olds. I am conjuring up a pale man in fancy pants, frilly shirt and embroidered waistcoat with funny wavy white hair dripping down to his shoulders as I had seen in my sisters’ history book. Reading material was often limited to their text books and I would take sneak peaks, thumbing through them to see the pictures. They open-up the windows of my imagination.

In my child’s mind, Columbus is now unfurling - from over our island and pulling onto his ship - an enormous sheet bellowing out with the wind. I had watched many times as Ma or one of my sisters made our beds, shaking out a freshly washed bed sheet. It would bellow out, before settling on the bed. The process of covering and uncovering and surely discovering too, was a normal household routine. 

Though he never complained nor showed annoyance, it is the kind of question that probably made Pa, the object of my incessant questioning, wish I was in that place where all precocious youngsters are sent so someone else would answer their impossible questions about how the world works - school. I am not yet enrolled in any of the illustrious British-styled public schools – the legacy of your Governor Lord Harris and subsequent governments, Lizzie - which were sure to offer the answers to these impertinent thoughts of an infant. The closest ones are just about a mile in any direction to one of which I was destined to walk to and from, sometimes barefooted, over the next seven years – tall punishment for a few questions – talk about how curiosity kills the cat, as schools kill curiosity!

Ma calls out to me. She ladles out boiling cocoa from a big iron pot resting on the mud fireside with a metal kalchul which she bought from Mawah in Princes Town. She would go to the town just to chat with Mawah’s mother, leaving me to wander around looking at all the curiosities in this shop that seems to have everything, including the traditional wooden kulcha, and flat wooden dablas used to turn roti on the chulha, dhal ghotnis of all sizes – wooden swizzle stick with zig-zag edges on its round base and the biggest enamel basins and iron pots one could imagine.

The utensils for its preparation might have evolved, but not centuries and several languages and cultural adaptations could alter cocoa, the pre-Ice Age plant, more than 21,000 years old, and its primordial connections as food of the gods across world cultures. Even European botanists could find no better substitute than to translate its value - Theobroma (Theo/god; broma/food) and the echo of its ancient MesoAmerican/Caribbean, pre Olmec, preMayan roots: kakaw with slight variations in inflections: Theobroma cacao. Today, its most common global identification as chocolate still echoes its ancient primordial resonance. Once Columbus helped Europe discover it, there was no turning back. Cocoa now covers some 17 million acres of global soil, with nearly 4 million tonnes produced every year. It has become the foundation of Swiss identity, and a catalyst for the centre of social interaction in kingdoms far and wide. A global strategy for the conservation and use of cacao genetic resources as the foundation for a sustainable cocoa economy now guides an International Cocoa Organisation, an international network of cocoa producers and International Cocoa Genome Sequencing Consortium who meet annually to upgrade strategy, redefine directions for the future of chocolate, its by-products and co-industries.

Though no longer a formal currency as it was used in mesoAmericans - about 100 beans could then get one a finely handwoven shawl - with increasing scientific evidence that it reduces high blood pressure and can positively impact cancer and cholesterol rates, I’m sure, Liz, that you concur with women the world over who testify that this remains one of god’s essential provisions of heaven on earth.

To the steaming cup of fresh cocoa, its oil already forming a film around the edges of the cup, Ma adds a touch of bliss. She tilts the condensed milk can into a bluey-green enamel cup, stirs it and hands it to me.

‘Careful, it hot!’ she warns, nodding in Pa’s direction. Ma is not one for much words.

I walk back to the gallery tentatively. The oil, temporarily disturbed, returns to curl around the edges of the cup. The aromatic steam of cinnamon, clove, bayleaf, nutmeg and cocoa drift out and up. You would agree, Dear Lizzie, in that moment, it is not difficult to understand why Europe turned half the world upside down, raided east and west, and went to war for the likes of this.

I hand the cup to Pa and run back into the kitchen. Ma hands me a smaller version of the same bluey-green enamel cup, with own serving of ‘cocoa tea’, though that in itself may violate indigeneous practice that reserved enjoyment of cocoa for ritual use only by men who fought nations for the privilege - the second of four Anglo-Dutch wars was fought over cocoa, in England’s favour, in the 1660s and on which the wealth of the likes of the Dutch East India Company was founded then trading its primary wealth in cocoa beans. As was most other pleasures of primitive planet-of-the-apes type cave-men, cocoa, too, was considered toxic for women and children.

Not so in our wooden dwelling. Ma had spent most of the night grinding the chulha-parched cocoa, adding cinnamon and bayleaf and grated nutmeg, Taking handfuls of the ground cocoa, moist with its own oils, between her palms, she had lovingly moulded them into oval shaped balls. They are already hardening this morning and by tomorrow, before boiling, we would have to grate it on the grater Pa made from pounding holes closely together with a nail onto a piece of galvanise, bending it into a semicircle, and nailing its edges against a short, flat piece of wood.

The still lingering aromas of last night’s cocoa production hang on the wooden floors and walls of the entire house and spill out to envelope the village in the way the porridge from The Magic Porridge Pot had crept out of the house in that Enid Blyton book I would later read.

Pa didn’t seem to think I am violating any gender taboos, either, when I reappear with my own cup of steaming cocoa, which seems to me, on hindsight, a very patriotically appropriate way to commemorate one of the last Discovery holiday days Trinidad and Tobago would know. Indigeneous to Trinidad, the Trinitario is one of the world’s three main varieties of cocoa – a unique offspring of our geo-botanical connections with the South American mainland as a more resilient, higher yielding and natural hybrid of the two others – Forastero and Criolla. For Your Majesty’s information, our cocoa might be old world Americas, but had produced another New World hybrid - the cocoa panyols, an ethnic group of intergenetic mixes between native peoples and other migrant streams who joined them here – Your Majesty’s people, Europeans, Africans, Indians and others.

On this July 31 morn both Pa and I are unaware that it would be some years yet before Apple computer technologies would name its application programme interface (API), cocoa.

The steam from his cup of hybrid cocoa is beginning to subside. Pa takes a sip, inhaling deeply its aroma. I have never seen him this relaxed.

 “Why he not up yet? Wake him?” I ask Pa, nodding in the direction of my brother’s room, hoping for chance at an excursion to visit some other part of Trinidad on this holiday. As my brothers and sisters grew older, our wooden house was expanded over the years: a room added here, a corner boarded in there, and this was a new room my brothers and his friends added at the end of the gallery.

Pa’s answer triggers the steam of questions from my condensed milk-sweetened, cocoa-lubricated tongue.

As he had every Sunday afternoon, my brother had routinely polished the silver angel with its transparent plastic pink-tipped wings perched on the bonnet of his baby blue Cortina taxi the day earlier, before he also lathered the entire car, and himself, to be covered in white soap suds. Sometimes he would cover his whole face and head in suds and try to scare us. He succeeded once when he sneaked up on me. I screamed so loudly, that I stumbled over a root of the enormous chenette tree in our yard in trying to run away from him as he looked like a jab jab from a Carnival band.

Native to our part of the world, the chenette tree, like cocoa, also predates Columbus by thousands of years, and its fruit is known in various pronunciations as genip across South Central America and the Caribbean. The more melodramatic injections into its nomenclature occurred when European botanists wrapped their tongue around its sticky pulp. Discovered for Europe in Jamaica and named by Patrick Brown as he had 103 other genera in the mid-1700s, Brown, an Irish botanist who worked as a doctor across the West Indies also produced A Civil and Natural History of Jamaica until our oh-so-inhospitable-to-Europeans clime sent him a-packing as it has a few others, like the man who invented television whom we will discover later. Brown gave chenette its botanical name, Melioccus bijugatus which was subsequently described and placed in its soapy genus group by Dutch-born Austrian, Nikolaus Joseph von Jacquin who has an orchid named after him; had Mozart teach music to his children and named a couple of his pieces after them, and in honour of whose work in the Caribbean, Austria in 2011 issued a special commemorative silver coin issue.

The Spanish dubbed it limoncillo/mamoncillo in some of their territories. Contented to translate rather than rename, the English called it Spanish lime another characteristic misnomer as it is, Liz, most unlike a lime or lemon, as an apple is from an orange. I believe this is the origin of the application of the Trini word ‘lime/liming’ as a pasttime of ‘doing nothing’ or hanging out with friends. The towering chenette tree in our yard was a village icon. A piece of wood nailed to its trunk formed a bench and under its soothing cool became the district’s social hub – for liming, all fours card games and even serious meetings; informal craft groups; Hindi, Bhajan singing and other classes, and village events planning – all right in our front yard. That might be also the original meaning of the word community leadership, until it was endowed with other connotations decades later.  

I did not know any of that technical stuff, then, nor that chenette was a fairly substantive source of calcium, carotene and phosphorous, when as children we sucked the pulp or roasted the seeds, and so indelibly stained our clothes much to Ma’s displeasure. We noticed too, that its stickiness restricted our tongues, but that it also had a constipation effect, also to Ma’s displeasure. She would have to spend sleepless nights as we complained of stomach pains from having gorged too much, though she made sure she had adequate supplies of seina leaves to administer when necessary to relieve constipation. I hear on the grapevine, Liz, that roasted chenette seeds are now gaining currency as a treatment for diarrhoea.

Loved and hated, the tree contributed substantially to our chores as we had to daily sweep up masses of its constantly shedding leaves. Our water copper, used to boil sugar at one time in the once thriving sugar industries, but now serving as our fresh water reservoir, had to be protected from its droppings as it sat directly under the tree. My younger brother and I would splash around in its massive bowl on weekends before emptying it, scrubbing off any moss that had accumulated around its edges and then refilled it with fresh water and covered it with galvanise.

“Why he not up yet,” I ask again, growing impatient as the beautiful day seem to be slipping away.

 I am curious as to why my brother is not stirring in the room in the gallery. He is usually up and out while it was still dark, in the predawn, to take villagers in his Cortina to their workplaces in ‘town’, Princes Town - named, Lizzie, as you know, for your grandpa George V and grand uncle Edward after they visited as princely lads. It was known as Kairi to the native peoples who find Columbuscrawling up our coast, as indeed was the entire island, when Columbus was doing his discovering, until Spanish Catholic missionaries gathered them around a church and school and renamed it Mission. At the time of your grandsire’s visit, Lizzie, it was then little more than a few scattered shacks with the church and school set up by Spanish Catholics. A later school and church, set up by missionaries from your then North American colony – Canada - will conjure up the old name, Iere, but shortly after their visit, it was proclaimed Princes Town, a name it still holds.  

It must please Your Majesty to know that the two poui trees the Princes planted in the yard of the Church of England in the town also still stand, 134 years later. So far they are winning the battle to resist the giant tropical termites whose Queen, leading her colony of nymphs and soldiers, are constantly waging war, threatening to make a meal of the princely pouis.

Princes Town itself has grown into its name, and out of it too – maybe ready for city status even, if the powers that be would take note - as it is now aggressively edging off what used to be the lush tropical rain forests described by your writer-traveller, Charles Kingsley who, At Last, made it here for A Christmas in the West Indies in the latter half of the 1800s. It must have been his writings that brought your grandsires here; and certainly too, geological reports of the 1850s eruption of the mud volcano at what the Spanish had labelled Devil’s Woodyard that had also attracted Kingsley. The indigeneous people’s had long worshipped at it for its connections with the mysterious underworld that provided the trees, fruits and roots that nourished them. The boggy soil and forested district did not deter Kingsley continuing the journey to Devil’s Woodyard, but your grandsires were waylaid by the pomp of planting of the pouis, as you may know since it is part of the Royal lore.

Princes Town now continues to encroach on the once-canefields that provided the raw materials for the sugar, molasses and rum factories that augmented British waistlines and coffers. You may want to know, Lizzie, that this town, named for your grandsires, has done the empire proud, with reputedly the highest numbers of drinkers in the country – one of your Empire’s enduring legacies in these parts from the practice of paying estate workers near rumshops - but that’s for another letter, to come.

But it was not rum in my Pa’s cup this July morn. I’ve never known him to be excessive with the bottle, but he didn’t abstain either. He is drawing patience from the aromatic, freshly brewed cocoa in the enamel cups Ma bought from the lady in the store crammed with enamel and other household paraphernalia in Princes Town. Ma and the lady would stand for hours chatting away in Bhojpuri while I wander around the overstocked shop.

Though they never spoke the Trinidad-adapted Indian language, nor Hindi, to us, both Pa and Ma could read and write Hindi. They could both read and write only a smattering of English and by that were defined as illiterate. So this conversation on this morning about our Discovery with my Pa is in your mother tongue, Liz; which Pa and Ma had adopted for us, though it was not their mother tongue, in which, if I may humbly point out, Your Majesty, versed as you are in one of some of the European languages, might yourself be considered illiterate.

The oil from the cocoa hangs on to the top of Pa’s lips, forming an artificial moustache on his hairless face and head. It made him look funny and a laugh is trying to force its way through the many serious questions on my lips. I held it back - the laugh; it is the questions I can’t stem from pouring out.

I have never known Pa to have hair on his face, nor head either. The baldness makes him look stern at times. Villagers call him The Sheriff and sometimes I knew why. His grey eyes would blaze right through you when his lips tremble and his voice raise in anger. In those times I know not to ask the questions about how the world works that popped into my head and onto my tongue as somethings more perplexing must be troubling him. Like how he would feed his family because someone had crept into the garden that night and stole all the crops he had nurtured over the last months which he hoped to sell so we could have what household things we need. I’d bite my lip to keep the thoughts in, then.

Not now. This mild morning, sipping his home-made cocoa, he is as mellow as the Eastern spices in it. 

“He not going to work because it is a holiday today,” he is answering my question about my brother’s late-sleeping, while I try to suppress my giggle over the milk-moustache over his upper lip. An unusual quiet hang over the village, serene, without the routine morning bustle of people getting ready of school, for work. Few others are stirring, taking advantage of this ‘holiday’. My mind is on high drive.

“What holiday?” I ask, perked.

“Discovery Day.” He even seems a bit happy, then, to be home to sagely field the curiosity of his youngest daughter; you will understand anew, Liz, as you have a couple lil great grand royal ones around that age now added to your household.  

“What is Discovery Day?”  The questions keep popping out of my head, spilling onto my tongue and out of my mouth, even before I know they are there.

“It is the day Christopher Columbus discovered Trinidad.” Pa had never gone to one of the British-type schools but he always knows all the answers, it seems. And though he could not read any of the storybooks, which are my presents on birthday and Christmas, he could talk about any topic under the sun, I thought, and he could recite the whole Ramayan in its strange Sanskrit or Hindi text and explain the strange parables in the lines as villagers often called on him to do. And he could study any Whe Whe chart with their strange Chinamen faces and letters and tell what number would play at the man they called ‘the banker’ who functions from a secret place because Whe Whe is illegal and police is always searching for the law-breakers like him.

Pa was no longer with us in the mid-90s when the post-Independent Trinidad and Government introduced a legal machine-driven version of the game which licence operator through a selective process. The traditional version, still illegal, has remained popular; the official version has the audacity to often complained that it takes about fifty million $TT (five million Great Britain Pounds) away from the State every year! Maybe if he was still around with the million-dollar jackpots we could win a million or two; or I could have won him a million or two. Here’s how.

Pa liked to bet on my dreams. He said I had ‘straight dreams’ and would even send me to sleep in mid-afternoon so I could tell him what I dream for the evening betting session, as the Whe Whe banker ‘opened the bank’ morning and evening. As he didn’t scoff at whatever my overactive imagination churned up in my dreams, he made me confident of dreaming. I guess he neverthought I would make a career of this dreaming thing. He would ask me for a number to bet on and would always place a bet on my choice saying I gave him straight wins. That made me warm inside, like freshly boiled cocoa tea sweetened with condensed milk. When I helped him win a bet he would give me a five-cent coin; or if it was a big win, a shilling, which I popped into the wooden piggy bank that did not look much like a pig. He had made it for me with the small slit at the top to throw in the coin and a wedge at the bottom that twisted out to let the coins drop out. With those savings, I could buy myself whatever I wanted for Christmas or anytime, no questions asked. As I began to read, ‘anything’ was almost invariably story books, of course, like The Magic Porridge Pot. Even before starting school, I was already an avid listener to my sisters reading to me, and to unending epic romances Pa would roll out night after night, mostly from some secret store in his imagination that none of us can remember, though it was a childhood experience that none of us can forget.

I guess he thinks that his last answer, ‘Discovery Day’, would quell my questionings. He lights another Broadway. I know it as his favourite brand because he would send my brother or sisters, and me when he thought I was old enough to walk the road alone, to Ganesh, the village shopkeeper, to buy. On days when market sales were good he would buy a whole carton. We would know to ask for DuMaurier, instead, only when Braodway was out of stock because the sales van only came into the village once a week.

Though smoking tobacco seems now to be more identified with the Frenchman, Jean Nicot de Villemain, (hence nicotine) who took it to the French court in the mid 1500’s after Columbus introduced it to Europe following his discovering it on his first voyage in the region the natives called Haiti, but which Columbus called Hispaniola, my father was participating in a 7000-year old kingly shamanistic tradition of the Caribbean and the Americas -  a tradition now practiced by nearly two billion people across the globe, despite an intensive and powerful anti-smoking lobby. One can sniff new tensions in the air as recent research and development suggests smoking as a potential cure for high blood pressure, asthma and tuberculosis. A new odourless, tasteless white protein extract from its leaves promises to be every masterchef’s dream ingredient as a salt-free, fat- and cholesterol-free low-calorie substitute for mayonnaise and whipped cream and can take on the flavour and texture of several foods and beverages.

Oblivious to all of that, engrossed in inhaling, Pa is unaware that smoking tobacco was considered - by the people who first inhabited our soil before Columbus and his bunch decimated them - a divine gift. They believed its exhaled smoke carried one's thoughts and prayers to heaven. Pa looks the part, shamanistic, dreaming and relaxed as if communing with some higher authority as he ease back on the wooden bench he had made with his saw, chisel and smoothing plane. I had gathered up the chippings that fell of the plane and put them in the fowl coub, as we called it, behind the house. My fowl pet had just had chicks – eight little yellow delights that I would feed on scraps of left over roti and rice while talking to them about the unfolding mysteries of the universe. I had a pet goat too, that I untied and took to graze on roadside grasses on evenings. There was much to do, but first I had to finish with this inquisition.

I absorb his answer: ‘Today, Discovery Day, was the day Christopher Columbus discovered Trinidad.’ Something did not fit there. My chick’s mind isn’t sure what it is. I know Christopher Columbus from the picture with the three triangle ships in my sister’s school book. Once, when I am visiting some relatives, one of their children had a Ladybird book about Columbus. He is in fancy pants and long shoulder long white ‘hair’ which I would later learn was a wig that fancy Europeans and massa-like Trini people in courts and the Parliament like to wear. In the picture book, Columbus’ shirt is bellowing in the wind. He looks soft and effeminate as European men in their garb of that era. His three ships of varying sizes are on the sea behind him. Black haired, wide-eyed, brown people are peering at him from the bushes. Maybe it is they who discovered him; not he discovered them. That’s how thought pop into my head and out of my mouth.

“So how Christopher Columbus discover Trinidad?”

My question brings Pa back from where he had gone with the warm cocoa inside him and the cigarette already nearly half done. 

He looks at me. “You would know all about that when you start school.” It did not cross my mind that he did not have an answer and that the question was baffling many others more than my own child’s mind.

Pa calls out to Ma. “You ready?” That is his cue for her to accompany him to the garden – having for the morning, already finished washing the clothes of all of us, prepared breakfast and made lunch too, cleaned the house and washed the dishes.

My rare morning discovering our Discovery with my Pa at home is over. I scramble up to accompany them to the garden, not waiting to be asked; secretly hoping that might get some more answers.

The giant bedsheet bellowing out from over the island and collapsing on Columbus’ ship settle in my mind’s eye, before which also swirls experiences of cocoa, chenette, and tobacco, all of which predated Columbus’ discoverings, and the eastern spices and we who came thereafter.  

When the sun rose that July 31, it was only the dawn to a near lifelong quest for my holy grail – knowledge of it all, and uncovering the puzzles of the discovery of Trinidad that was before Columbus discovered then. It has taken me to many parts and through many sunsets.

Even though Discovery Day has been wiped off the calendar, he still haunts the landscape, and is stamped on national emblems inspiring the false knowledge that marked his own Discoverie, and mine.

 One fine sunset, then another, then another, I gathered and pieced together the skeletal knowledge in the bones he had scattered all over the Caribbean from Puerto Rico through Cuba, Santo Domingo, across Jamaica and your colonial archipelago to Trinidad, from Mexico to Argentina, and the Americas and across in Europe through Barcelona and Seville and Italy, Portugal, and Spain, as discovered, too, Columbus’ own bones. Scattered in pieces and fragments in which he cut up our land and our history and our Discovery in the blood soaked soil still violently echoing in the bones of ghosts in their sleep-walking dreaming state they tell one story. But for me gathering the pieces, like our collective story, they spoke to me of the yet undiscovered El Dorado, at treasure trove of buried knowledge echoing down the ages even now, through little known corridors and crannies, the knowledge bridge from Columbus to us that can soothe and calm like cocoa balm when cocoa is no longer god, nor king, but you still a Queen, Your Majesty, Dear Lizzie.  

****

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Ancient Formula May Be the Ultimate Antibiotic Solution Dr. Mercola By Dr. Mercola Every year, 700,000 people worldwide die from drug-resistant illnesses like bacterial infections, malaria, HIV/AIDs and tuberculosis.1 It's estimated that by 2050 antibiotic resistance will have killed 300 million people, with the annual global death toll reaching 10 million. The cost for treatment, meanwhile, is estimated to hit $100 trillion by 2050. Clearly, alternatives to antibiotics are needed — and fast. It's been estimated that the pharmaceutical industry will need upwards of $37 billion over the next decade to replace antibiotics that no longer work.2 But drug companies have little financial incentive to innovate new antibiotics, so unless taxpayers end up footing the bill, it's unlikely that such products will enter the market anytime soon. Perhaps looking to create new drugs isn't where all of our hopes should lie, however. Medievalists are now working alongside microbiologists, chemists, pharmacists and others to determine whether "ancientbiotics" — natural formulas used to treat ills during the so-called "Dark Ages" of medicine — may still hold promise of cure today. The "Ancientbiotics team" is compiling a database of ancient medicinal recipes from a 15th century text known as "The Lily of Medicines."3 They've even tested some of them for efficacy, with striking results. Erin Connelly, a post-doctoral fellow at the University of Pennsylvania libraries, explained:4 "In response to this threat [of antimicrobial resistance] to global health, the Ancientbiotics team was formed. Originally based at the University of Nottingham, the team is an interdisciplinary group from the Arts and Sciences [comprising] microbiologists, medievalists, parasitologists, wound specialists and pharmacists, who are united by the belief that novel avenues of antibiotic discovery are crucial, along with the shared conviction that the past can inform the future." Ancient Eye Infection Salve Kills MRSA About 1,000 years ago, if you had an infection of your eyelash follicle (then known as a wen), you might have been treated with a potion called Bald's eyesalve, which is made from wine, garlic, leek, onion or another Allium species and ox gall (bile from a cow's stomach). The mixture was to be stored in a brass vessel for at least nine days prior to use. Individually, many of these ingredients, including not only garlic but also copper and bile salts, are known to have antibacterial activity, which led the researchers to suspect the mixture would have a small amount of antibiotic activity.5 Researcher Freya Harrison, Ph.D., assistant professor at the University of Nottingham, said in a press release, however, that "we were absolutely blown away by just how effective the combination of ingredients was."6 They tested the salve on Staphylococcus aureus in synthetic wounds as well as on methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus (MRSA) in mice wounds, with results showing it killed up to 90 percent of the resistant bugs. It was the combination of the ingredients that proved to be so effective. According to the researchers:7 "While the antibiotic potential of some materials used in historical medicine has been demonstrated, empirical tests of entire remedies are scarce. This is an important omission, because the efficacy of 'ancientbiotics' could rely on the combined activity of their various ingredients. This would lead us to underestimate their efficacy and, by extension, the scholarship of premodern doctors. It could also help us to understand why some natural compounds that show antibacterial promise in the laboratory fail to yield positive results in clinical trials. We have reconstructed a 1,000-year-old remedy which kills the bacteria it was designed to treat and have shown that this activity relies on the combined activity of several antimicrobial ingredients. Our results highlight (i) the scholarship and rational methodology of premodern medical professionals and (ii) the untapped potential of premodern remedies for yielding novel therapeutics at a time when new antibiotics are desperately needed." The Disease-Fighting Properties of Garlic and Leeks It's impressive that the disease-fighting properties of the allium family of vegetables were known long before it was possible to identify their exact antibacterial properties. The recipe for Bald's eyesalve came from "Bald's Leechbook," which is considered to be one of the earliest known medical textbooks. Today we know that garlic has antibacterial, antifungal, antiviral and antiparasitic properties. The combination of biochemicals in garlic, including tannins, saponins, phenols, flavonoids, and essential oils, has clealry been found to fight antibiotic-resistant bacteria. Some of the superbugs killed by garlic were resistant to more than 10 different antibiotics. Researchers wrote in the Asian Pacific Journal of Tropical Biomedicine, "Natural spices of garlic … possess effective anti-bacterial activity against multi-drug clinical pathogens and can be used for prevention of drug resistant microbial diseases."8 Like garlic, leeks also have sulfur-containing compounds, such as allicin, which are responsible for many of their health benefits. Allicin is antibacterial, antiviral and antifungal, for instance, and in addition to warding off antibiotic-resistant superbugs, this compound may also neutralize dangerous free radicals faster than any other known compound.9 Colloidal Silver: Another Ancient Antibiotic Alternative Silver has been used medicinally since ancient times, including in ancient Egypt, Greece and Rome. It's often referred to as the world's oldest antibiotic for this reason. Hippocrates was actually one of the first to describe its antimicrobial properties in 400 B.C. Long ago, people would store their food in silver vessels to prevent contamination, and during the Middle Ages wealthy people would eat with silver utensils to reduce the risk of illness (this is why eating utensils are often referred to as silverware).10 Over the past few years, several studies have demonstrated the fact that silver is indeed one of the most effective agents in the battle against antibiotic-resistant superbugs. In 2013, a study even found that low doses of silver can make antibiotics up to 1,000 times more effective and may even allow an antibiotic to successfully combat otherwise antibiotic-resistant bacteria.11 By adding a small amount of silver to an antibiotic, a powerful synergism occurred, and a urinary tract infection caused by tetracycline-resistant E. coli was successfully eradicated. Silver also helped save the lives of 90 percent of mice suffering with a life-threatening abdominal inflammation by adding it to the antibiotic vancomycin. Why Silver May Work Against Antibiotic-Resistant Disease Silver interferes with bacteria's metabolism, increasing production of reactive oxygen species (ROS), which are products of normal metabolic processes in your body that, in excess, can damage cell membranes and DNA.12 Many antibiotics are believed to kill bacteria by producing ROS compounds, and researchers found that adding a small amount of silver boosted the antibiotic's ability to kill anywhere from 10 to 1,000 times more bacteria. In addition, silver makes the bacteria's cell membrane more permeable. This may explain the beneficial effect of silver on gram-negative bacteria, the cells of which are often impenetrable to antibiotics due to the molecular size of the drugs. Quality Matters When Using Colloidal Silver As for toxicity, the researchers of the 2013 Science Translational Medicine study found that the doses of silver required were far smaller than the dose needed to harm either mice or cultured human cells, suggesting that oral and injectable silver should be quite safe. That said, quality is extremely important, as misrepresentation of colloidal silver by less scrupulous manufacturers has in the past led to some of its more negative connotations. According to a commercial product report by silver-colloids.com, a site that provides detailed laboratory analyses of colloidal silver products, there are three distinctly different types of silver products on the market that are all labeled and sold as "colloidal" silver:13 True colloidal silver Ionic silver Silver protein: Due to the high concentration of large silver particles, silver protein products are known to cause argyria, which turns your skin blue-gray in color When purchasing colloidal silver, it's very important to avoid silver protein formulas. True colloidal silver seems to be the most recommended, but ionic silver could probably also be used. In the aforementioned study, they used ionic silver (Ag) in a silver nitrate salt (AgNO3) which, again, was found to be quite non-toxic in animals and human cell cultures. Substantial antimicrobial activity was found at 30 microns (μM) against E. coli. If you take ionic silver products according to the manufacturer's recommended dosage, ionic silver will not cause argyria. Keep in mind that since there are potential health risks involved, if you select the wrong formula, I recommend you use colloidal silver only under the guidance of a qualified holistic health practitioner. How to Stay Safe as Drug Resistance Spreads High-quality colloidal silver may be a valuable addition to your medicine cabinet, as may be many other ancient remedies that researchers are beginning to rediscover. On a broader scale, however, the problem of antibiotic resistance really needs to be stemmed through public policy on a global level, including improving sanitation and eliminating the unnecessary use of antibiotics in agriculture and human medicine. That being said, the more people who get involved on a personal level, the better. Such strategies include: ✓ Using antibiotics only when absolutely necessary Antibiotics are typically unnecessary for most ear infections, and they do NOT work on viruses. They only work on bacterial infections and, even then, they're best reserved for more serious infections. Taking an antibiotic unnecessarily will kill off your beneficial gut bacteria for no reason at all, which could actually make it more difficult for you to recover from your illness. If you do take a course of antibiotics, be sure to reseed your gut with healthy bacteria by eating fermented foods or taking a supplement. As an all-around preventive measure, make sure your vitamin D level is optimized year-round, especially during pregnancy, along with vitamin K2. A number of other natural compounds can also help boost your immune system function to help rid you of an infection, including vitamin C, oil of oregano, garlic, Echinacea and tea tree oil. Manuka honey can also be used for topical applications, as it's effective against many bacteria, including some resistant varieties, such as MRSA. ✓ Avoiding all antibacterial household products This includes items such as antibacterial hand sanitizers and wipes, toothpaste, deodorants and detergents, as these too promote antibiotic resistance. ✓ Properly washing your hands with warm water and plain soap, to prevent the spreading of bacteria Be particularly mindful of washing your hands and kitchen surfaces after handling raw meats from CAFOs, as about half of all meat sold in grocery stores around the U.S. is likely to be contaminated with potentially dangerous bacteria. ✓ Purchasing organic, antibiotic-free meats and other foods Reducing the spread of antibiotic-resistant bacteria is a significant reason for making sure you're eating only grass fed, organically raised meats and animal products. Besides growing and raising your own, which may not be an alternative for most people, buying your food from responsible, high-quality and sustainable sources is your best bet, and I strongly encourage you to support the small family farms in your area.