FIVE PRINCIPLES TO A BETTER LIFE:
No Prejudice, Discrimination, Enslavement, Torture And Slaughter against any/all being(s)
Dislike of an individual or group based on their characteristics or attributes.
Preferential treatment of an individual or group over the lack of equal treatment of an individual or group.
Taking away the free-will of an individual or group.
Imposing physical, psychological, economic or spiritual discomfort and harm onto an individual or group.
The taking of life, of an individual or group through sinister, and/or self-serving, group-serving or nation–serving reasons.
I’m a terrorist magnet. I wonder why. I’m a serial killer magnet. I wonder if they seek me or I seek them or if a force greater than I and them puts them in my view.
To The Terrorists Of The World:
The 8 billion of you living and breathing on the planet today:
Welcome to My Animal-Free Kitchen. Let’s start in the kitchen; that’s where most plans are hatched.
I’ve been on some form of an animal-free recipe development journey since I was twenty-two years old.
At seventy-one I’m still on it. I take no medication. I am the best fed person on the planet. My foundational theme is rustic elegance. I dine in style every time I eat.
So can you.
I don’t have fancy clothes, a car or designer shoes and purses.
I buy my leggings at Walmart. I shop Amazon for cheap that looks not cheap. I’m good at that. As a kid I picked out the best cheap fabrics from the ‘end of roll’ bin on Saturdays with Mom. I made most of my clothes back then when double knits were in. Even made a long winter coat once.
I could have twice as many outfits if I made them myself. Today with the high cost of fabric that is no longer true. Besides, I got tired of all that work, when everybody else was walking into a store and walking out with something already made.
I have an apartment that’s mostly second hand store and tree lawn dumpster stuff. I told my mother once that I had a dumpster apartment. She quickly replied, “don’t ever be ashamed of that Sharon”. I said I wasn’t.
Fact checking myself I would say, not actually from inside the dumpster. I did take a candle holder once that was on top of a bunch of stuff in a dumpster in South Euclid where I used to live.
It had a number on the bottom that I used to play the lottery and won. Luckily I boxed it. I cashed it in at a keosk at the courthouse the day I was to meet with the magistrate for my bankruptcy hearing.
I lost my house when I lost my motor vehicle accident case – I was the passenger. The ‘fix was in’ was named after cases like mine.
In advance I took out a loan on my house to pay the Cleveland Clinic plus the neurologist’s travel expenses and my lawyer in Portland, Oregon.
At the bankruptcy hearing another client while exiting the hearing room shouted out, “he’s asking if you have uncashed lottery tickets”. Although I went in prepared, he never did ask.
Not having much money I had to make choices. I chose to feel like a VIP every time I ate while doing something most of the world thought crazy, impossible and injurious to one’s health – eating without animals. I went further and demanded animal-free fine dining – of myself I demanded that.
It’s sort of like going on a picnic with stemware glasses for the kool-aid. I like kool-aid by the way. At least I did when I was a kid. Now and then Mom would add frozen lemonade for an extra treat. We went on a lot of picnics growing up. Orange was my favorite flavor.
My greatest personal success and greatest contribution to the world involve eating animal-free, creating animal-free recipes and sharing them worldwide.
When I was very young I aspired to be a philanthropist (before I knew what the word meant). Little did I know a person can be a philanthropist without being rich and contributing large sums of money to the needy. Back then I saw myself as becoming rich and giving to those who were not rich.
I dreamed of setting up a chain of animal-free soup kitchens for decades – inspired by all the homeless people I saw in San Francisco during the early 80s. Not any more. Although I would like my animal-free logo on a few, I couldn’t do the actual physical work of it. I make a lot of different soups with the recipes to prove it.
The problem with existing set-ups is that churches and charitable organizations feed poor people the bottom of the barrel type food. I wouldn’t do that. I had a vision of something quite different.
Another problem I noted when volunteering was that the volunteers take all the good stuff as self-payment for their services and give to the poor the crumbs. Not good.
As in the culinary arts, the rich designation doesn’t have a flavor or texture.
Rich is the combination of factors/variables and/or a particular process or combination of processes that determine what ultimately results in the subjective labeling of something or someone deemed rich.
I’d rather go out to dinner than buy a new purse. Or go on a short trip than buy a piece of furniture.
When we went to Hawaii we sold all our belongings besides what would fit in two suitcases and a carry on bag.
• I saved out one item that I couldn’t carry on the plane, but made arrangements to have it mailed once I arrived in Hawaii. The encyclopedia Britannica. I always wanted one and I wasn’t giving that up.
• When we moved back to the mainland I had to sell it. The first one who looked at it bought it.
• Now I have the internet – my personal encyclopedia at my finger tips. I am blessed. Who would have thought? Yeah, I think that was made just for me.
We slept on the floor the greater part of ten years not because we couldn’t afford furniture, but I planned on returning home after my adventures. Why buy a bunch of furniture if I was going to have to cart it cross country?
When it became clear I wasn’t moving back home, we bought furniture. Well I ended up carting it cross country anyway. Almost made it home – about two-thirds of the way we landed in Cleveland.
Three dogs, a brother and I drove from Oregon to Cleveland in a Ryder truck with a flatbed for our huge copper colored old second hand Chrysler.
When we lost the house, the only one we ever owned, we had to downsize considerably to move into an apartment. I got pretty good at selling stuff, the reason being that I sold good stuff. And I make what I sell look good.
Most people sell junk or stuff that doesn’t work. Not me. That would reflect on my character and good character can’t be bought for any price.
I have a lot of stories as do most of you. What makes mine unique is that through them all runs a strong thread of hope for a better life for me, my family and all who inhabit the planet – a hope which I turn into action by changing myself not you.
I accomplished my animal-free fine dining at home lifestyle. And in the process I became a philanthropist by giving access to my decades of work to everyone on the planet. All you need is a phone and internet access.
Encyclopedias are great. As a kid I read a lot but not at the exclusion of everything else. A little bit of everything and sometimes a lot of something and then all the combinations along the continuum of something and everything. Throw nothing in there and I’d be lying. I’m always doing something and so are you.
Animal-Free Chef ™
Word Warrior Davies-Tight™
Architect of A Plan For The Planet aka WAKE UP THE PLANET and ARCHITECT Of 5 Principles To A Better Life
One time while co-managing a Cadillac of Convenience Stores on Cooper Point in Olympia, Washington Steve and I had too much to drink. Upon waking I told Steve out of an abundance of love that I’d take his hangover for him.
Later I called him at work to cheer him up. He said he felt like a million bucks. He sounded it too. I on the other hand had the worst hangover ever. I never did that again. I went back to sleep. That’s rich. The feeling like a million bucks part. And generous of me to give that feeling away.
Joan Rivers once said that she dined at a long table with a candelabra on it even when alone. Formal dining. In other words she dined in style in her own home.
I share that in common with Joan Rivers. That’s rich – the styled dining part. No one needs a lot of money to do that. You can formalize everything you do no matter how much money you don’t have.
Did you ever throw up in a wine bottle? I did. Nothing to brag on except that I contained it. And nobody noticed because I was alone. I didn’t want to soil the carpet on the floor where I sat and I knew if I stood up that I would throw up before reaching the bathroom. That’s me.
I still wonder why the Jews insert a vomit scene into every movie they make. Maybe to gross people out, which is a startle strategy to wake them up in case they weren’t paying attention. I don’t really know, but this is mine.
When a friend of mine and I went for a nursing job interview at Holy Cross Hospital in the early 70s she sat next to me and started heaving as the interviewing nurse, fortunately, got up to leave the room momentarily, for a form she forgot.
Friend opens purse, purges and cleans it all up as if she were wearing white gloves, closed the purse and straightened her back as the nurse returned. Now that’s rich too. She had too much to drink the night before. How many people could have pulled that off?
Recall that I sold my bedroom set for five hundred dollars to go to the Soviet Union during the Cold War – exactly the price of the all inclusive trip in 1975. That’s me, that I didn’t ask for more than I needed. Again, the first person who saw it bought it.
The carpet is so bad in the apartment where I live from Hurricane Sandy, bed bug heat treatment and natural wear and tear of eleven plus years, that gray soot comes up from it when I vacuum. A lot of it.
Management promised to replace it years ago then reneged.
I called my sister way back and ran by her a plan I had. Remove three feet square at a time and wrap it in bags for the dumpster, so the maintenance guy who picks through every item in the bin every morning won’t detect it, buy tiles and lay them a few at a time.
Why pick? Management said he’s required to do it, so please wrap your trash. Many don’t – probably more often than not it’s the home care aids doing it.
I said you’d do that right? She said, oh no she would not do that in a voice that suggested that I shouldn’t either. I thought for sure she would, being spunky as she is.
Once I offered management to pay for it myself. They said no. I offered to pay for paint they said no. By the time they decided my apartment needed paint – after eleven years – the new guy took one look and said, I don’t want to move all this furniture. Another maintenance guy said he was surprised I even asked. “Do it yourself. They won’t know”.
Yes they would. Outside people nobody knows, who never identify themselves nor wear name tags inspect apartments all the time. It’s stressful having complete strangers entering, being disrespectful, taking pictures like they own us. I resist every time – up to the limit I deem appropriate that won’t get me evicted.
That’s an ever-present threat. You don’t like it? You have three months to vacate. You won’t find anything any better out there. People tried.
I fought for a new carpet for a tenant now gone and won in a casual but formal meeting to discuss his medical rights based on a doctor writing that his carpet be replaced. It took a long time. I was his hero. Funny.
The rules were that he had to move all the furniture himself and no furniture could be placed in the hallway. With Henry that wasn’t much of an issue because he didn’t have much furniture and he was Mexican which meant he had a network of people to help. I’m white with no network.
With all I have in my apartment, moving all the furniture from such a small space to lay new carpet without making use of the hallway would be impossible. Even with the hallway it would be impossible. I have large, heavy stuff.
Add to that my age and spinal handicaps (though I’ve never been officially declared handicap except to cancel my student loan debt) and I’d say I’m looking at a wheelchair sentence if I’m forced to do it myself.
I think I’ll start collecting that gray matter I vacuum up from the carpet and save it just in case someone wants to test it for toxins or carcinogenic material. Lots of people get cancer after they move in.
It should be enough to demand that someone other than myself replace the flooring that may be causing my perpetual state of allergic reaction. Not funny.
No carpet. Skid resistant flooring. It’s a senior residence. People falling all the time. Lots of people with asthma and on anti-allergy medications with side effects that cause dizziness.
Carpets get too dirty. Vacuuming doesn’t clean a carpet; it picks up debris. Seniors can’t afford carpet cleaning and can’t do it themselves. Get the carpet out of senior residences and public housing. Carpets should be outlawed. Thinking radically now. Blame the Persians and Indians from India if you need someone to blame.
To Congress: Stop wishing that all the poor people die. You think I don’t know your thoughts? Your inaction proves they exist. No crystal ball required.
We’re on the train from the Soviet Union to Helsinki. One thing you couldn’t take out of the country was rubles (Russian money). Steve brags to me before getting on the train and then on the train that he had one in his wallet – a coin. I also had one – paper – rolled up tightly and placed deep in my wallet out of view.
Just before approaching the border the train stops and Soviet officials board the train and check everyone’s passport and ask to see their wallets. Mind you, I never told Steve that I had a ruble. He told me that he hid one.
Two men enter. Four of us had bunk beds. The officer in front asked that we show our passports and wallets. My wallet didn’t get a serious check. It was handed back. Steve’s did. They found the ruble and confiscated it.
The next morning when we awoke, the ruble the officer took from Steve was on the bed table. We all sighed with relief and a good feeling took the place of apprehension. That they re-entered without us hearing them after we went to sleep to place the ruble on the table however lingered as a feeling of caution – with a wry smile attached.
It’s what you call a Venezuelan Victory. Don’t ask me what that means.
While waiting for our flight out of Helsinki to the USA we went for a sauna and afterwards a beer by the pool. We had the place to ourselves.
Upon arriving and walking through the airport it was as if we were literally walking on a cloud – no hyperbole here. On air. There is such a thing as walking on air. I always thought it was just an expression of happiness or being burden-free.
To this day and before that day I have not and did not experience anything that came close to that feeling of well-being.
But the walking/floating above ground by a few inches effect was the most impressive. Was it the beer, or the combination of the extreme cold of the pool alternating with the extreme heat of the sauna plus the beer after? I don’t know.
Once in a lifetime. What are the odds? That’s rich.
Sharing one glass of champagne between the both of us during intermission, because that’s all we could afford, while seeing the Bolshoi Ballet perform in New York City about a year later – that’s rich. So many memories enhanced. All for the cost of a bedroom set.
SWAN LAKE preempted by IVAN THE TERRIBLE. So what. It was a story worthy of putting to dance.
Ponce deLeon. The fountain of youth. For some strange reason I’ve been in search of it since my twenties. Either I can’t remember why or I didn’t know why back then either.
Hope I find it before I die.
I just googled Ponce de Leon and he discovered Florida and was killed by a Native Indian. Oops.
When I was young and taking pictures every place I visited Mom said, ‘every place you go you take pictures of swans; how do you find them?’ ‘I don’t know they’re just there. I love swans.’
My last painting after Rose died was supposed to be a swan. In my mind that’s how I saw it as I was painting it.
When I woke up the next morning, it was Rose passing. A city on a donkey – a rose sitting on a donkey – the donkey carrying Mother Mary.
So I called it Donkey Passing.
I stayed with Rose as the doctor put the needle in her leg and after the doctor left I stayed longer.
I walked backwards to the door when it was my time to leave. Instinctually.
I don’t have a price on the donkey painting. I haven’t framed it yet. It stays protected in another frame once used for Pizza Parlor – Escargot, which I cut apart in anger at the never-ending Palestinian – Israeli war. I kept the pieces. Somewhere. It looked like there were animal eyeballs and/or snails all over the pizza. It wasn’t actually a real pizza. It was something else. A metaphor, a prophecy, an inspiration…
The Pizza is worth more To Me cut up.
Donkey Passing was my last painting. I lost all desire to paint after Rose died. She was with me for each one, except COW GOING TO SLAUGHTER and of course, DONKEY PASSING.
PAINTED BY GOD – all of them.
GOD is my SPIRIT.
We don’t all share the same spirit. That’s my view. Otherwise there wouldn’t be so many junctures and doors.
Nobody considered to be a terrorist thinks they are one.
I didn’t know what a swan song was until today after I finished writing this piece and ‘swan song’ came to mind and I looked it up. Swans sing before they die.
Well, what’s the last line?
“HOW MUCH IS THAT DOGGIE IN THE WINDOW?”
Don’t ask me what it means. It’s my spirit talking.
Sometimes when you finally get what you always wanted, long overdue, you don’t want it anymore. It’s connected to too many bad feelings.
That’s what the Jews do to the Palestinians, make them wait so long that they give up wanting or even needing.
I don’t want the carpet or the paint anymore. I want a new location. This place makes me sick. All the lies told like lawyers arguing a case any time something needs to get done and nobody wants to spend the money. Management companies are like the sweat shops of old. They treat the tenants like slaves. You watch and see. The future is coming up fast.
There’s a large turnover in public housing for that reason. A lot of malcontent for that reason. Democrats and Republicans are both responsible. Imagine telling people to go back into a burning building to make room for the fire trucks that aren’t even there yet. Then imagine funneling CORONA-COVID active people from hospitals to nursing homes to recover, only to infect the entire population of the nursing home and then lie in a study-report claiming none of them were active. That kind of gross incompetent decision making and cover-up leads to war.
The press is mostly responsible for the slant of the stories. Multiple versions get released and the populace has to decide which to believe. That leads to war too. CONFUSION leads to CHAOS. Chaos leads to war. War IS Chaos.
Why so many immigrants moving all over the globe? Their governments make them wait so long, that they finally just want to get out. They can’t take the wait for better days anymore. And they do GET OUT. Many have to go back, because they weren’t prepared, but a lot don’t.
They save all their money to give to human smugglers, then just like that they lose it all and get nothing for it. The ones who make it become slaves to their handlers for the rest of their lives. Their own people handle them.
It’s a messed up mess that the world is in. Still people say it’s not so bad on the average. Could be a lot worse. I don’t know how they judge that, but I wouldn’t be so glib.
Imagine distracting the populace from the real news that involves survival of the species in real time with anti-hair discrimination politics. Hair. Human body hair. Black African human hair only?
If I were Black African I’d tell the whole race to shave their heads at the same time all over the world (what are you worried about; it’ll grow back) then tell the governments of the world: STOP TOYING WITH US. It’s not about our hair. We don’t need to preserve our hair. We need to preserve our HUMANITY. Wake up.
The optics of Blacks burning cities/villages over hair is a strategy designed to trivialize everything connected to Black Africans. Did your own people design that strategy? Your own handlers? The handlers get paid to be sure, otherwise they wouldn’t do it. Wake up to reality.
BURN THE WIGS next. Wig sellers make a bundle of cash off of your hair insecurities. Hey, I’d wear a wig too if it didn’t make me look like a caricature of somebody who doesn’t look like me. Are false eyelashes natural too?
Does all hair on a Black African’s body come under the label of hair discrimination? I don’t know. I’m asking you.
Are white people with African hair (wiry and bushy) protected under this hair legislation? The British on social media crucify them if they twist their locks. It’s difficult to watch. It goes back to the White African Albinos who are tortured as vessels and carriers of evil by Black Africans. It’s all mucked up I know.
signed out 10.1.2020 7:40 PM Continued Later? maybe
|D-T||You are the most inspirational person/writer I have ever encountered. Probably because you nail the truth right in the middle of it’s sorry ass with a hammer that is dead on. Keep on rowing my sweet daughter of God, this old-timer just can’t get enough of you.|
A different slant on the news, a different slant on life, a different slant on the world as we once knew it, as we currently know it and as we will come to know it – that’s what Word Warrior Davies-Tight™ is all about.
Spreading a message of hope through change around the globe.
Self written, self-edited, self-published.
One view matters. A multitude of views matter. If we all had the same views we’d be called robots. Learning comes from sharing those views unencumbered.
Sharon Lee Davies-Tight, artist, author, animal-free chef and activist, ARCHITECT OF 5 PRINCIPLES TO A BETTER LIFE™ & MAINSTREAM ANIMAL-FREE CUISINE™.
SHARON shares her work worldwide with no payment or conditions, so all people may have access to the totality of her work via the internet! Even the previously private stuff.
Thank you for sharing.
~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight