I visited Forest Farm a couple years ago. I definitely didn’t have enough time to really take it all in. Need to make it back there one of these days.

Yes. They planned it. But they had money to always fall back on if needed if the SHTF. THAT is the only problem I have with the entire message of the Nearings. It’s slightly contradictory and hypocritical.

Socialism is simply candy-coated Communism (equal "opportunity" of poverty)... neither work! Christian Capitalism is where it's at... freedom, individualism, liberty, growth and voluntary sharing and philanthropy.

Man I sure do miss the good old days of New Hampshire Crossroads with Fritz Wetherbee! ! !

U n your Scott are people worth knowing.

Wish i could work at that mill for a little time

I know a girl whos boy friend shod her how to shoot a bow n the first year she won state championship a natural n left her bf n the dust mzn is xhe good. He said he doesnt mind fighting with as long as she doesnt have a bow n her hsnd.

Thanks wish we had a show like thix n WV

enlightening and incredibly interesting. even though i am sided firmly with him, i can’t help but notice that there is an abundance of biased (sometimes charged) language in regards to marx especially. i would prefer more elaborating on what it means to be authoritarian, or the inner workings of the international, than to hear how marx ousted anarchists. it it surely more nuanced than this, even if marx was acting unjustly.

Saw a recent analyis dividing four powers, state power, ideolological power, the money power what was the other one? Dialogue works discussion, smash the state and get rid of the church = all power to the money power. Most "anticapitalists" are working more directly for capitalism and the oppressor against the people than Donald Trump like most "antiracists" are the worst racists on the planet, what do you think of white people, like the anti defamation league is blatantly the defamation league who do nothing but defame people. Beware the name, it is often the opposite. Marx was right wing fake bankster left, Proudhon was at least sincere, marxists are the ultimate oppressors, and liars, currently doing Engels "genocide the slavs" plan, again, in Ukraine, under the banner "support ukraine"

I visited Helen Nearing in Harborside Maine and slept in a Bill Yurt on her property when she was alive. I drove out to seek out Bill but could not locate his property...he was a big influence to many of us

"Men and women ... do you not realize that the State is the worst enemy you have? It is a machine that crushes you in order to sustain the ruling class, your masters. Like naïve children you put your trust in your political leaders. You make it possible for them to creep into your confidence, only to have them betray you to the first bidder. But even where there is no direct betrayal, the labour politicians make common cause with your enemies to keep you in leash, to prevent your direct action. The State is the pillar of capitalism, and it is ridiculous to expect any redress from it." ~ Emma Goldman

"The Republicans and the Democrats are Siamese Twins.." OMG and this insight was from 1978! ???!!!!!....have we been asleep at the TV for THAT LONG???????? Most people have only cottoned on since maybe 2008...let's keep on ruminating plebs, "Baaaaa" Baaaaaa".....You deserve everything that's coming....

I visited the Nearing farm a couple years ago. What a wonderful place. I wish I could have met and known Helen and Scott Nearing. Such history. Such pioneers. I was born in the wrong generation. I wish I had grown up in the 50’s and 60’s instead of being born in 1979. And this young lady is a beautiful, intriguing, intellectual, person. I’d love to meet a woman like her. 😍 My dream girl. What a beautiful person.

Our farm went dormant for three years, when I over worked myself. The thought of work made me sick. Today was a good day; piling leaves, dreaming dreams of resurrecting our beds...

Outstanding. I will practise. Thank you.

ahm...ahm...ahm...ahm... NO!!!

A very interesting talk. Thanks

Brief Bio: I’m Al Fogel born in 1945 and at an early age began writing poems. In 1962 I was introduced to a neighbor who just returned from Avatar Meher Baba’s “ East west” gathering and handed me a book titled “The Everything and the Nothing” that included brief but powerful passages by Meher Baba that touched me deeply and i became a “ Baba Lover” In 2010 while on Jane Reichhold’s AHA website workshopping poems I perfected my Senryu and Haibun. I am now considered one of the nations leading authorities on Tanka , Senryu, and Haibun. Here are some examples of each of my specialties senryu ~ dentist chair the hygienist removes my Bluetooth ~ Internet argument all his words in CAPS hers in EMOTICONS ~ after the divorce he spends more time at the dollar store ~ damsel in distress clarke kent still searching for a phone booth ~ cauliflower ears once a contender now boxing vegetables ~ under the influence - moonshine ~ Audubon sale all variety of seeds. . . early birds welcome ~ Buddhist fortune cookie the unfolded paper reads “ better luck next birth!” ~ sudden downpour. . . the adults run for shelter ~ sidewalk cafe the birds and people tweeting ~ busy crosswalk the seeing eye dog leads the way ~ **senryu is usually humorous, but it can also be serious. For example, the following two of mine are horrific and heartbreaking ( dealing with the Holocaust): ~ cattle cars between the slats human eyes ~ stutthof - the stench of burnt hair from the chimneys ~ thrift store purchase inside the leather jacket a tarnished half-heart ~ deserted train depot a long line of rusted tracks leading nowhere ~~ return to my youth lit by the tracks of Lionel trains. ~ Tanka: returning home from a Jackson pollock exhibition I smear my face with paint and morph into art ~ crowded bus a young lady offers me her seat it seems like only yesterday I was offering mine ~ deserted train depot a conductor once shouted “ All Aboard!” but now it’s just a long line of tracks leading nowhere ~ Haibun: The Mathematics of Retribution “Karma is i fathomable,” I inform her It’s late and our conversation turns heavy “ Seems simple to me, “my girlfriend responds. “If I murder you, then it’s reasonable that I will be murdered in this or another life to balance the ledger.” “ Not necessarily so” I’m quick to rejoin. “What if you murdered me in this life because I murdered you in a prior life karmic debts and dues are now equalized.” “But what if I get caught and I go to jail for life. Where’s the equal payback in that?” “As I said, karma is unfathomable.” We continue discussing reincarnation and then add the possibilities of “group karma” to the mix Finally, at about midnight, we fall asleep Stutthof - the stench of burnt hair from the chimneys ~~ Mama There were days when I pretended to be too sick to go to school - - just for mamas loving embrace -her arms the heat of home Even with the onset of dementia, her cheerfulness was so contagious it was a joy being around her despite the illness. She made everyone laugh with her spontaneous unpredictable behavior. nursing home bumper wheelchair her favorite pastime Once a week I would whisk her away from the assisted-living facility and we would spend several hours together -grabbing a meal or frequenting some of her favorite second-hand stores where she loved to shop and donate clothes. When we drove to her favorite thrift in November, her dementia worsened. thrift store the dress mama donated she wants to buy On a cold December morn mama passed. The funeral was simple. There was a light drizzle as the family gathered at the gravesite. One by one, with eyes full of rain, we said our last goodbyes. autumn twilight - oh mama tuck me under hug me one more time ~ ‘Round Midnight It was a huge ballroom on the top floor of a building on Broadway --an important midtown crossroads in the heart of the Great White Way. My uncle still talks with reverence about how -in his heyday -he would travel by rail to the corner of Lenox and walk inside to the beat of jungle music. Who knew what to expect? One night you might be listening with rapt attention to Theloneous Monk and Dizzy Gillespie the godfathers of bebop in their signature beret caps, or the Nicholas Brothers flashing their wild acrobatic spins and splits, or enchanted by the sweet taste of Brown Sugar -with Bojangles out front. And when the Bird was in flight, even the moon was not high enough. But in 1940 the ballroom closed its doors to make way for a commercial housing development and another kind of night. new Harlem the a-train replaced by the bullet ~ Atlantic City New Jersey I had just graduated from high school I remember stopping for saltwater taffy -as evening journeyed slowly into night. Nearing curfew, we sat on a protruded sandy enclave--holding hands, looking out at the ocean, not saying much. In the distance the lights from an ocean liner flickered as the night kept coming on in... first “french kiss” under the boardwalk “over the moon!” ~~ All love, Al

I hope you don’t mind me sharing the following poem, one of my all time favorite meta poetic poems by a poet named “Howard Dull” titled “Suibhne Gheilt” that I recently chanced upon. When I read it, I became speechless. And most of my poetry friends consider this as one of their all time favorites. It was published in a 1970s anthology titled “ Open Poetry” and proves that once Poetry hits you in your heart, you could be the worst nefarious scoundrel with kings at your bidding and Empires at your command but you will be transformed and never again return to your former Self. ~~ Suibhne Gheilt 1 He has haunted me now for over a year that madman Suibhne Gheilt who in the middle of a battle looked up and saw something that made him leap up and fly over swords and trees - a poet gifted above all others - 11 How could a proud loud mouth who yelled KILL KILL KILL as he plowed done the enemy - heads rolling off of his sword - be so lifted up ( or fly up as those below saw it - wings beating) be so suddenly gifted with poetry and nest so high in Ireland’s tall trees? Is there a point where all paths cross? And why am I so drawn to him that all my questions seem shot in his direction? “And they ran into the woods and threw their lances and shot their arrows up through the branches” What parallels could I ever hope to find - my refusal to fight ( weaseling out on psychiatric grounds)? my leaving my country behind? my poetry? “and my wife wept on the path below. . . Oh memory is sweet but sweeter is the sorrel in the pool in the path below” I fly down every night to eat 111 Sweeney like the rest of us would have been better off if he had never anything to do with women. But the point of it lies hidden in a pool of milk in a pile of shit for you to see when a milkmaid smiles Sweeney like the rest of us flies down and when she pours the milk into the hole her heel made in the cowdung Sweeney like the rest of us kneels down and drinks and dies on the horn the cowherd hid in it. So before you have anything to do with women remember Sweeney the bird of Ireland lying on his back in the middle of that path in the moonlight. 1V And on my way home this morning ( my wife waiting) my shadow racing up the path ahead of me I saw something ( a black stone?) thrown at the back of its head ducked and spun around so fast I almost fell down - it was a bird flying up into a tree V No good could come out of this war out of what burns in the heart of our highly disciplined John Q. Killer as a whole village bursts into one flame - the villagers streaming like tears towards the forest cover his helicopter’s blades blow the leaves off and and the flame towards. . . as we sit in front of our bubbles watching our president ( whose bubbletalk no one can escape and he is a little bit mad -calling the reporters in for an interview while he’s sitting on the bubble having a bubble movement) and first lady climb into their big bubble bed an Lucy, born of their own bubbles, crawls in between - “ Mah daddy has so many troubles turning the world into a bubble and sick of crossfire - the cries of the women and children flying over his head - he stumbled down to the riverbank and found, the wreckage twisted around the tree behind, his skull. . . Noises, there are noises, noises that can of themselves drive a man mad -NOISES! But last night the Stockhausen penetrated from the four sides of the auditorium, stripping each layer of feeling and thought until all that was left was something the size of a nut - so tiny, so hard, so impenetrable it was alone in the middle of an infinite space. . . -Howard Dull ~~ ps: Howard Dull was such an obscure poet that he never published a book and ( to my knowledge) never published another poem. But OMG, this was so brilliant that in my opinion it should be read and studied at the college level. All love in isolation from Miami Beach, Florida, Al

I hope you don’t mind me sharing the following poem, one of my all time favorite meta poetic poems by a poet named “Howard Dull” titled “Suibhne Gheilt” that I recently chanced upon. When I read it, I became speechless. And most of my poetry friends consider this as one of their all time favorites. It was published in a 1970s anthology titled “ Open Poetry” and proves that once Poetry hits you in your heart, you could be the worst nefarious scoundrel with kings at your bidding and Empires at your command but you will be transformed and never again return to your former Self. ~~ Suibhne Gheilt 1 He has haunted me now for over a year that madman Suibhne Gheilt who in the middle of a battle looked up and saw something that made him leap up and fly over swords and trees - a poet gifted above all others - 11 How could a proud loud mouth who yelled KILL KILL KILL as he plowed done the enemy - heads rolling off of his sword - be so lifted up ( or fly up as those below saw it - wings beating) be so suddenly gifted with poetry and nest so high in Ireland’s tall trees? Is there a point where all paths cross? And why am I so drawn to him that all my questions seem shot in his direction? “And they ran into the woods and threw their lances and shot their arrows up through the branches” What parallels could I ever hope to find - my refusal to fight ( weaseling out on psychiatric grounds)? my leaving my country behind? my poetry? “and my wife wept on the path below. . . Oh memory is sweet but sweeter is the sorrel in the pool in the path below” I fly down every night to eat 111 Sweeney like the rest of us would have been better off if he had never anything to do with women. But the point of it lies hidden in a pool of milk in a pile of shit for you to see when a milkmaid smiles Sweeney like the rest of us flies down and when she pours the milk into the hole her heel made in the cowdung Sweeney like the rest of us kneels down and drinks and dies on the horn the cowherd hid in it. So before you have anything to do with women remember Sweeney the bird of Ireland lying on his back in the middle of that path in the moonlight. 1V And on my way home this morning ( my wife waiting) my shadow racing up the path ahead of me I saw something ( a black stone?) thrown at the back of its head ducked and spun around so fast I almost fell down - it was a bird flying up into a tree V No good could come out of this war out of what burns in the heart of our highly disciplined John Q. Killer as a whole village bursts into one flame - the villagers streaming like tears towards the forest cover his helicopter’s blades blow the leaves off and and the flame towards. . . as we sit in front of our bubbles watching our president ( whose bubbletalk no one can escape and he is a little bit mad -calling the reporters in for an interview while he’s sitting on the bubble having a bubble movement) and first lady climb into their big bubble bed an Lucy, born of their own bubbles, crawls in between - “ Mah daddy has so many troubles turning the world into a bubble and sick of crossfire - the cries of the women and children flying over his head - he stumbled down to the riverbank and found, the wreckage twisted around the tree behind, his skull. . . Noises, there are noises, noises that can of themselves drive a man mad -NOISES! But last night the Stockhausen penetrated from the four sides of the auditorium, stripping each layer of feeling and thought until all that was left was something the size of a nut - so tiny, so hard, so impenetrable it was alone in the middle of an infinite space. . . -Howard Dull ~~ ps: Howard Dull was such an obscure poet that he never published a book and ( to my knowledge) never published another poem. But OMG, this was so brilliant that in my opinion it should be read and studied at the college level. All love in isolation from Miami Beach, Florida, Al

Very much enjoyed your poems and unique word choices that had an emotional impact and kept me engaged throughout. I, too, am a poet ( and also a fiction story writer which I’ll elaborate shortly ) but for now let me say I write mostly Japanese format poems i.e. haiku , senryu, tanka/kyoka, haibun etc. I hope you don’t mind me sharing a Tanka and a haiku dedicated to Matshuo Bashō’s frog with added insightful commentary by the late AHA founder and poet Jane Reichhold who considered my haiku among her 10 favorite haiku of all time! What an honor. Here’s the Bashō poem with Jane Reichhold’ insightful commentary: Bashō’s frog four hundred years of ripples At first the idea of picking only 10 of my favorite haiku seemed a rather daunting task. How could I review all the haiku I have read in my life and decide that there were only 10 that were outstanding? Then realized I was already getting a steady stream of excellent haiku day by day through the AHA forum. The puns and write-offs based on Basho's most famous haiku are so numerous I would have said that nothing new could be said with this method, but here Al Fogel proved me wrong. Perhaps part of my delight in this haiku lies in the fact that I agree with him. Here he is saying one thing about realism-ripples are on a pond after a frog jumps in, but because it refers back to Basho and his famous haiku, he is also saying something about the haiku and authors who have followed him. We, and our work, are just ripples while Basho holds the honor of inventing the idea of the sound of a frog leaping is the sound of water As haiku spreads around the world, making ripples in more and larger ponds, its ripples are wider-including us all. But his last word reminds us that we are ripples and our lives ephemeral. It will be the frogs that will remain. ~~ Now the tanka: returning home from a Jackson Pollock exhibition I smear paint on my face and morph into art ~~ Finally, the fictional story that I alluded to earlier. It not only should appeal to Afro-Americans but all individual and groups that experience racial discrimination. It is based on a true incident that took place in the 1950s when racial prejudice was rampant. My story has an unexpected heartwarming ending that coincides with my own belief akin to Dr Martin Luther King’s in a non-violent approach and resolution to racial injustice Titled “ Eloise , Edna And The Chicken Coop” ELOISE, EDNA & THE CHICKEN COOP There was once a Black lady named Eloise who inherited from her grandmother a parcel of land in the suburbs of Compton California at a time when there was strong racial prejudice against women of color-especially those Black women who owned property in predominately white neighborhoods. It happened there lived adjacent to Eloise’s land a white woman named Edna who did not like the fact that this Black woman owned land next to hers. Eloise would try to be friendly because she believed Jesus when He said “Love Thy Neighbor” and to Eloise that meant even if your neighbor was unfriendly. But whenever Eloise saw Edna, Edna would turn her back in disdain. In fact, ever since her husband died a decade ago, Edna became mean and unfriendly to everyone in the neighborhood. But to Eloise, she was so hateful and full of animosity that one night when all the lights in Eloise home were off Edna went to her own backyard where she kept her chicken coop and gathered up all the manure and dumped it on Eloise land and upon her tomatoes and her greens and everything she was growing, in an attempt to destroy it. And when Eloise realized the next morning that there was all this manure, instead of becoming angry, she decided to rake and mix it in with the soil and use it as fertilizer. Every night Edna would dump the manure from her chicken coop litter box and Eloise would get up in the morning and turn it over and mix it. This went on for almost a month until one morning Eloise noticed there was no manure in her yard. Then one of the neighbors informed Eloise that Edna had fallen ill. But because Edna was so mean and unfriendly , no one came to see her when she was sick. But when Eloise heard about Edna’s condition she picked the best flowers from her garden, walked to Edna’s house , knocked on her front door and when Edna opened the door, she was in complete shock that this Black Woman who she had been so cruel to, would be the only neighbor to visit her and bring flowers. Edna was deeply moved by Eloise kindness. Then Eloise handed the flowers to Edna who said, “These are the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen! Where’d you get them?” Eloise replied, “You helped me make them, Edna, because when you were dumping in my yard, I decided to plant some roses and use your manure as fertilizer.“ This genuine act of kindness opened the floodgate of Edna’s heart that had been closed for so long. “When I’m feeling better, I would love to have you over for tea,” Edna told Eloise. “Thank you, “ Edna replied, assuring her she would come. And then added, “I will pray for your speedy recovery every night.” And with those words Eloise departed. It’s amazing what can blossom from manure. There are some who allow manure to fall on them and do nothing. But then there are others-like Eloise -who “turn the other cheek” when abused or in this case “turn over the soil” to make something new like those bevy of beautiful red roses that opened a white woman’s heart. ~~ -All love in isolation from Miami Beach, Florida, -Al

35:13 John Ceprano

Lol

Do you think it's any easier for a man of integrity and high morals/ethics to teach in a university today? I doubt it. I kept dropping out over decades because of boring pathetic little egotistical professors spoon feeding dumb kids. Nearings time? Before decades of television and radio?? WWll and the Red scare? Yes thanks for keeping Scott Nearings message alive now in the "end times ". And they are most definitely so. Well the future won't be boring let's be Pollyanna and leave it at that.

The interviewer should have asked Mr Nearing: If people in the Socialist world believe in their Socialist future, why the Berlin Wall was built? For what purpose?

1:57:08 Nearing: "The Socialist world is a functioning economy and the people in the Socialist world believe that they have a future". I was one of those people in the Socialist world. And let me tell you - it was quite the opposite.

That was awesome. Thank you 💜

Thank you for sharing this story.

Likewise, nicely done about the Nearings, Greg has a gift to bring Nearings Radical life to us all, Thank you for the video!

Well done lecture...Scott and Helen were great influences in my life and this helped put it into context.

The question and answer part of this video, which is almost half of it, is pretty much useless because you can't hear what is being asked. Her father gives a much better overview of the operation in his talks.

thank you, Greg, for your work, your books. I have them all and they helped me alot! Especially I love the title - work is really art, not "just" work. It totally changed my perception from "shit, I have alot things to do" to "great! I can do some art - art of working".

I visited Helen and Scott Nearing with my family in the 70s several times. I was a kid from Texas. We only had two weeks to travel by Buick station wagon to visit my father's in-laws two places - Athens Georgia to visit Grandpa Ed Dzurko an art historian and a Republican Unitarian. and Mt, Kisco New York to visit Hugh Kelly and Madith Smith Kelly, a symphony cellist, avid gardener and my grandmother. Her father and grandfather were a team - chemist and physician both graduates of Yale and were hired by Post cereal. Her father was friends with Scott Nearing which led to her long-time friendship Helen Nearing. The trips to Maine was to satisfy my father's interest in organic gardening. Scott Nearing's enthusiasm for Communism probably aided his son's career in the Soviet Union. When I discovered his son John became President of Radio Liberty after returning to the United States I realized the father's pro-Communist stance may have been taken to protect his son John during the many years in lived in the Soviet Union. I am not saying his Socialism was fake only that his zeal for communist revolution and the dismantlement of our constitutional government may have been helpful to ingratiate his son to the Communist authorities. I think considering Scott's age during this interview it is important take these facts into account. While much has been written about the political fallout with his son, the fact in this interview Scott smiles broadly and catches himself before trashing "liberalism" seems to be evidence that he was not nearly as revolutionary as it may seem. Hugh Kelly, by the way was the manager of Sir Edmund Vivian Gabriel's New York estate. Sir Edmund Vivian Gabriel accompanied General Allenby, dismounting their horses and walking through the streets of Jerusalem during the British takeover of administrative duties from the Turks whose troops vacated in the early morning hours. It was an extremely well-planned effort resulting in no loss of blood and relying on respecting local cultural differences and humility to Jesus Christ who Himself never rode the same streets on anything higher than a donkey. This humility will lead us a long way if we choose not to forget it. Hugh was a great story-teller and very funny. I asked him how he felt about Scott Nearing and his one criticism was his sternness and lack of humor. I think he would have appreciated Scott's smile in this clip. kzbin.info/www/bejne/oXrIgKGVnLpne5o

Guaranteed TRUganic produce.

Vermont sucks And so does this video And the snowflake making it!!!!!! Get a job and shut up!!!!!!

Journey with Bernie!!!! Smoke some more......

I love how real this is. This is such truth, we need to reform the system starting as individuals. "Our future is depending on a few inches.."

Great video - I learned so much. I just ordered the book, The Art of Taking Action. Also going to check out your videos on mental wellness and Naikan. Thank you!

John Henry Bosworth, wow how I thought that song was so fantastic all those years ago - still do.❤️❤️😊

If we were allowed or mandated to create small farms, it would solve the world food problems and keep the planet healthy. Yes, always ask, what's in it for me, perfect, thank you.

Scott liked the idea of the USSR and did turn a blind eye to Stalin and his antics. Scott's own son lived and worked in the USSR for several years. When John Scott came home and started to write about what was going on in the USSR it created a divide between father and sun that never healed. When it was all said and done, Scott Nearing had not desire to go and live under the very system he so espoused.

Beautiful Lady and indeed live the Good Life

I'm

Real nice! Bless you! Visited with Helen around that time and she was a joy to be with for a few days. Beautiful ❤️ memories and is a guiding light to steer on living the good life!

Wherw is Barbara?

Awesome as usual!

Great Lecture

Great video. I've followed over the years, and learned so much. Awesome family ..

Wonderful presentation