Newsletter Week 35

 
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Plukrijp.be vzw – Upside-down the good newsletter
 

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Upside-down, The Good Newsletter 2020 – Week 35

The weekly interactive newsletter sent out by Plukrijp to its members

For people living NOW the school of life

For YOU to send all your good news to

upside down = instead of announcing what we plan to do
(& most often find out we do not need to do), we relate what we really did

Building communities of trust is fundamental to healing our collective wound. At Plukrijp, we offer spaces of transparency and solidarity. The
community allows people to encounter each other in truth and so develop trust.
We do the garden for YOU
Plukrijp functions on your frequent visits & harvests. Take along for friends & neighbours, this way we recreate real networks between us all, breaking down the illusory restrictions that now still separate many of us from our fellow
man = UBUNTU.

What you can harvest now:
 

From now on you can find
all the current and upcoming crops with photo, location and name by clicking on the Current Harvest button in the menu on our website.

https://plukrijp.be/en/op-dit-moment-te-oogsten

This week @ Plukrijp
We did:

The last week of the summer vacation was also the beginning of autumn ?

We did a lot:

Reset” closed tunnels 1-2-3 = cleanup & broad-seeding of winter-greens & scratching. The closed tunnels are central to our winter diet of fresh greenery. Corn salad, chervil, winter purslane, coriander, spinach,
….our winter vitamins.

We also dug ditches between the closed tunnels so eventual extra rain water can flow into the cistern & be pumped back into the tunnels in spring.

Planted winter cauliflowers “Walcherse”
for harvest next spring in Hei. On the central raised bed of tunnel 5 (we repaired the sides) we also planted 1 line of them & seeded a green carpet of chervil. Eventually we will plant salads for late autumn there too, hoping for “Indian summer” like
we got the last 5 years.

Redo the workshop on inspiration from Bram. We plan a total re-organisation of tools & materials this winter.

Continue the harvests of tomato, melon, basil etc. Sweet corn was put in the freezer for winter delicacy.

Cover the straw bales at Hei. At the same time we built 3 walls from straw bales to put the ripe compost for winter distribution.
This area became drier every year because of the overhanging trees & crops died from thirst in summer since we now have dry sand up to 2.5m deep. Let us hope for rain(or snow) to compensate for so many years of spring & summer drought. It is not easy
to adapt garden design made on the assumption of 800mm of water/year to less than half that amount.

 

We shared:

An
interview with Terence Stamp
, a look behind the scenes of movie-making 50 years ago.

Our all-time favorite:
“Les triplettes de Belleville

A music evening with
Van
Morrison’s “astral weeks” album

A 3 director collective movie based on
Edgar
Allan
Poe’s “Histoires Extra-ordinaires”. Especially the Fellini part with a devil-possessed Terence Stamp
was impressive.

Wisdom from the law of karma/3rd law of thermodynamics to correct the illusions
created by the post-modern belief of “I create my own reality”:

    cause=effect concealed by interference of the multiple factors involved

    effect=multiple causes +/- revealed if we can apply quantum mechanic calculations

In our times of pseudo-science & pseudo-spirituality, where reductionist materialism excludes +90% of reality & extrapolates from there “laws” of physics, chemistry & biology, where medical science is attacked by opportunist non-medical money-grabbing, where
economists pretend that “our” economy is growing while they refuse to incorporate the hidden (but too visible) costs of their bulldozer/poisonous acts into the accounts & where speculation on virtual (quantitative easing) money is the only accepted version,
we think it is time for a total “reset” of society.

Interesting Movies & Documentaries

Terence Stamp on his memoir The Ocean Fell into the Drop

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dC5noRzj5FY

Trailer:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gAwi8baochk

 

The Triplets of Belleville (French: Les Triplettes de Belleville) is a 2003 animated comedy film written and directed by Sylvain Chomet. It was released as Belleville
Rendez-vous in the United Kingdom. The film is Chomet’s first feature film and was an international co-production among companies in France, the United Kingdom, Belgium, and Canada.

 

The film features the voices of Michèle Caucheteux, Jean-Claude Donda, Michel Robin, and Monica Viegas. There is little dialogue; much of the narrative is conveyed
through song and pantomime. It tells the story of Madame Souza, an elderly woman who goes on a quest to rescue her grandson Champion, a Tour de France cyclist, who has been kidnapped by the French mafia for gambling purposes and taken to the city of Belleville
(an amalgam of New York City, Montreal and Quebec City). She is accompanied by Champion’s loyal and obese hound, Bruno, and joined by the Triplets of Belleville, music hall singers from the 1930s, whom she meets in the city.

 

The film was nominated for two Academy Awards: for Best Animated Feature, making it the first PG-13 animated film to be nominated in that category; and for Best Original
Song (Benoît Charest and Sylvain Chomet for the song “Belleville Rendez-vous”, sung by Matthieu Chedid in the original version). It also won the César for Best Film Music, and as a co-production with Canada it won the Genie Award for Best Motion Picture and
the BBC Four World Cinema Award in 2004.

Histoires extraordinaires a.k.a. Spirits of the Dead (1968)

 

Trailer:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QaYTQv-qBn0

 

Spirits of the Dead is an “omnibus” film comprising three segments. The French title Histoires extraordinaires is from the first collection of Edgar Allan Poe’s short
stories translated by French poet Charles Baudelaire; the English title Spirits of the Dead is from an 1827 poem by Poe.

 

Directed by Federico Fellini, Louis Malle, Roger Vadim. With Jane Fonda, Brigitte Bardot, Alain Delon, Terence Stamp. Anthology film from three European directors based
on stories by Edgar Allan Poe: a cruel princess haunted by a ghostly horse, a sadistic young man haunted by his double, and an alcoholic actor haunted by the Devil.

Puppetji vs Baggage

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vvuYA-Uh8vQ

Interesting Links

EU subsidies benefit big farms while underfunding greener and poorer plots – new research by Charles Rotter / August 26, 2020

https://wattsupwiththat.com/2020/08/26/eu-subsidies-benefit-big-farms-while-underfunding-greener-and-poorer-plots-new-research/

https://www.thelibertybeacon.com/rally-in-berlin/

Berlijn: Regime Change?

https://debataafschecourant.wordpress.com/2020/08/29/berlijn-regime-change/

Inspiring Book

The Ocean Fell into the Drop is a different kind of showbusiness memoir, one that traces Terence Stamp’s twin obsessions, acting and mysticism, and the relationship the two have to each other for him, through
the trajectory of his life. On the way he discusses his directors, Fellini, Loach, Pasolini; actors, Olivier, Brando and Redgrave; and spiritual masters, Krishnamurti and Hazarat Inayat Khan, as well as his family, life in the East End, Sufism and style.

During my first visit to the cinema the empathy I felt from Gary Cooper was life-changing, and a secret dream was born in the darkened auditorium.

Later, my forays to the East revealed an original take on humanity which fell into two categories: those who remembered and those who didn’t. The former, by teaching the latter, could transmit this memory,
and communicate this spark of creation directly into the being of the other.”

Wisdom

True Knowledge

by Kabir – Perfume of the Desert p.111

 

This, I’ve discovered, is true knowledge –

Those who scramble to get into a boat

Sink like a stone midstream,

While the shelterless and abandoned

Reach the other shore.

 

Those who dare to take

The hard, winding, thorny road

Get to town in the end;

 

Those who stroll the easy highway

Get robbed or even killed

Soon after they set out.

 

Everyone’s wound in illusion’s web –

The so-called “holy” as much as the worldly,

And those who run for safety

Under the comforting dais

Of form and ritual and dogma –

Well, life’s hurricane lashes them.

Stay out in the open:

You’ll be left safe and dry.

The ones Love never savages

Live in boredom and pain;

 

Those Love devours like a cannibal

Live in bliss forever:

The ones who lose their own eyes

Come to see the whole Creation

Blazing in their own Light;

 

Those who hold on to their sight

Remain blind as bats in full noon.

 

When I began to awake to Truth

I saw how bizarre and crazy the world really is!

Poetry

Within every part of me is the sign of my beloved;

Every portion of me is the speech of my beloved.

I am like a harp reclining in his arms;

My crying out is from the fingertips of my beloved.

– Rumi Quatrain 353

Humor (?)

Stuck in Patterns”
from Nasrudin Sacred Laughter of the Sufis by Imam Jamal Rahman.

 

Nasrudin complained every day at lunch

that he was getting sick and tired of cheese sandwiches.

His co-workers listened to his complaints

for several days, and finally they offered him some advice.

Mulla, tell your wife to make you something different.

Be persuasive with her.”

But I’m not married,” replied Nasrudin.

Well, then,” they asked,

who makes your lunch?”

I do!” replied the Mulla.

A Sufi Story

Maybe it’s a blessing, maybe it’s a curse…..

from the book When you Hear Hoofbeats, Think of a Zebra by Shems Friedlander p.7

 

A farmer in Anatolia had a wife and adolescent son. His wife always complained that they were poor, their house needed a new roof, the barn was broken down, and they
had no horse to help with plowing. Early one morning the man and his son looked toward the field, and beside a large oak tree stood the most beautiful thing they had ever seen. It was a large white horse with perfect proportions. They tied and fed the horse.
They were happy.

 

His wife came out and said, “Look for markings, it is a rich man’s horse.” There were no markings.“We can sell the horse,” the wife said, ‘’and with the money we can
fix the roof, buy a wagon, rebuild the barn, and have something left over for our old age.”“I will not sell the horse,” said the man.“If you don’t, I will leave you,” said the wife, and went into the house.

 

Now let me tell you a little about the man. The townspeople and his wife thought he was becoming senile. Whenever something occurred, good or bad, he would say,
“Maybe it’s a blessing, maybe it’s a curse, only Allah knows.” Whatever befell him, that’s what he would say. That’s what he said when the townspeople gathered on his land to see the horse and told him what good fortune he had. And that’s what he said
to his wife after she told him that he should sell or she would leave.

 

The next morning, he began building a corral for the horse. His wife became angry. She went to her sister down the road. The man shrugged his shoulders and said,
“Maybe it’s a blessing, maybe it’s a curse, only Allah knows.”

 

The story of the beautiful horse traveled from village to village, town to town, and finally to the capital city where the sultan, a lover of horses, heard it. He called
his lieutenant and told him to go to the farmer and offer him a bag of gold for the horse. A vast sum of money.“What if he won’t sell?” asked the lieutenant.“Then kill him,” said the sultan, “and bring me the horse.”

 

The sultan’s soldiers arrived at the farmer’s house. The horse was as beautiful as they had been told, and the lieutenant offered the farmer the bag of gold for the
house.“Thank you,” said the farmer, “but I don’t want to sell.” The lieutenant asked the farmer to walk with him. He liked the old man, who reminded him of his father. “Please take the money,” the lieutenant said. “No,” the farmer said. “My orders are to kill
you and take the horse if you won’t sell it to me.” “The horse is not for sale.” “Please, this will be your death.”
“Maybe it’s a blessing, maybe it’s a curse, only Allah knows.” The lieutenant said he had an errand in another village, but would return in a few days. He begged the farmer to think about selling horse. The townspeople gathered and started to argue
with the farmer. “You will be rich!” “Maybe it’s a blessing, maybe it’s a curse, only Allah knows.”

 

That night the farmer had a dream. Maybe something in the dream woke him. It was around 3 A.M. and he went outside. There was a mist. The horse was beautiful, moving
in and out of the mist, disappearing and reappearing. As the farmer moved closer, he felt something special, extraordinary, in every part of his body. He remembered old teachings which said that God took the first breath of His day at this time. He felt touched
by God, filled with light, washed clean of imperfection, and that feeling stayed with him. The horse looked magnificent, his breath steaming from his nostrils into the mist.

 

Later that morning the farmer’s son decided to ride the horse. He rode bareback through the forest and past fields. He felt wonderful, the wind caressing his face and
pulling at strands of his hair. He wrapped his arms around the house’s neck. He was at one with the horse until the horse stepped into a hole, throwing the boy high into the air. Falling, the boy broke both his legs. The townspeople found him and carried him
home. “You didn’t listen to us,” they said to the farmer. “If you had sold the horse, this wouldn’t have happened. Now your son has two broken legs.”
“Maybe it’s a blessing, maybe it’s a curse, only Allah knows”, the farmer replied.

 

The next morning, the farmer looked outside and saw a terrible sight. In fact, he saw nothing. The horse was gone. The townspeople said, “You could have sold him for
money, and you didn’t. So your son went riding and broke both his legs. Now you don’t even have the horse.”
“Maybe it’s a blessing, maybe it’s a curse, only Allah knows”, said the farmer. “The soldiers will come back,” said the townspeople, “and they won’t believe you when you say the horse disappeared. They will torture you, and then they’ll kill you.”
“Maybe it’s a blessing, maybe it’s a curse, only Allah knows,” said the farmer.

 

The soldiers didn’t return. War had broken out. All the young men were called into the army, except for the farmer’s son with his two broken legs. “You’re lucky,” the
townspeople said to the farmer. “We will never see our sons again. You will have someone to care for you in old age, but we will be alone.”“I’ve told you before,” said the farmer. “Don’t you understand?
Maybe it’s a blessing, maybe it’s a curse, only Allah knows.”

The association organises free training, exercices and activities. All the goods and services circulating within the association are free and without consideration.
The association appeals to your generosity : contribute if you want to support us.
Thank you !
Copyright © 2016 PLUKRIJP, All rights reserved.

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martine.beaujean@hotmail.com

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