The Cry Of The Mothers – At Wharton Business School

First, I’d like to extend an invitation to anyone in the Philadelphia area to join us for soup and bread on Sunday February 28, 2021 from 1-4pm. It’s just some informal socializing by the wood stove. I’m planning vegan mushroom soup and beef chili with a challah from the local CSA. BYOB or anything else you’d like to pitch in to share. Email me at timpsila@protonmail.com for the address (greater Center City). Even if you are far away and can’t make it, consider hosting your own “Souper Sunday.” The grey of winter and months of lockdown are wearing on people. I’ve done this a few times over the winter, and it’s always energizing.

I was invited to participate in an event yesterday linking India, Europe, and the United States. It was called “Cry of the Mothers” hosted by AEVA * Woman *Earth * Soul magazine based out of the UK. I’d written my Timpsila piece to share in their publication last summer and done an interview with Yzabelaah, among my first, that August. The idea was to energetically connect from a heart space of ritual to stand for the world’s children and those yet to be born almost a year into lockdown. You can support Yzabelaah’s work and access the full event by becoming a member, here.

When asked, I knew immediately that I wanted to create an intervention here in Philadelphia at Wharton Business School at the University of Pennsylvania. Wharton, along with former UPenn president and later head of the Rockefeller Foundation Judith Rodin, have played pivotal roles in the creation of the social impact investment sector. Huntsman Hall, the hub of Wharton’s operation, is a hulking presence along Walnut Street, seems to be channeling the Palazzo Vecchio but in a rounder, blander form. Fortress-like protection offered to global debt finance’s aspirational thought leaders and deal makers. Lots and lots of surveillance cameras around the perimeter.

The pinkish cylinder, funded by the Huntsman Family (Utah, chemicals, genomic “philanthropy,” and international diplomacy) looms over the university’s schools of education, social practice and psychology. These departments create the policy infrastructure that will drive the data-driven human capital markets in “lifelong learning” (aka, perpetual indentured servitude being re-skilled for jobs the billionaires intend to give to robots and avatars); poverty management (nudges to properly manage your paltry Universal-Basic-Income disbursement); and behavioral compliance ( everyone a twenty-first-century homo economicus stuck in a militarized spatial reality video game of “RISK” created with CIA money to profit hedge funds).

I spent a good part of the weekend wrapped in a quilt, my coffee table covered in embroidery floss, pincushions, and felt scraps. I made four “mothers” to accompany me. Handwork, simply executed, each with a big heart – sun, water, earth, love. I filled these well-intentioned poppets, made for healing and protection, with findings from my travels through nature.

Each was supported by a section of sagebrush from sacred Lakota lands. Inside I placed lichen (photosynthetic mutualism of fungus and algae) from the New Jersey Pinelands, periwinkle shells from the shores of the Carrick Roads River in Cornwall; a sprinkle of seeds given to me by lovely Utahans; broken bits of ancient crockery from the Schuylkill River mudflats; bits of snakeskin, feathers, and mica for clarity and mysticism. Each was weighted at the base with a stone or two that chose me to be their carrier. They are caretakers to an acorn child – a child of past, present, and future.

They are a reminder that this journey is a collective one – scrappy moms against artificial intelligence, social robots, data-surveillance, and bio-capitalism. We are not alone. We stand united through the energy of the earth, and the waters that flow upon it, and the breezes that caress our cheeks. We are still human, though at a crossroads. We can choose a green path of natural life, or a scorched path of cybernetics. That path will determine what “life” on this planet looks like moving forward, not just for humans, but for all our sibling beings. No doubt, there is a tremendous consequence in the step we take next.

I brought the felt mothers and the acorn child along with a “Mousetrap” board game to the icy steps of Huntsman Hall, and with numbed fingers I read aloud a revocation of consent against the social impact investment, human capital bond agenda. The game symbolized the plan of the elite to contain us within their behaviorist enterprise – equal parts B.F. Skinner and Frederick Taylor with a dash of Martin Selignman’s “authentic happiness” and a smidge of Angela Duckworth’s “character” scoring.

I suspect biometric health passports will be the sticks the tech oligarchs, who’ve bought most governments, plan to use to push the masses onto blockchain. Once on their ledger, as “self-sovereign” e-citizens, the data analysts can toy with us using geo-fencing, bio-surveillance, and “pay for success” privatized benefits managed through e-wallets of programmable “money.” Covid has normalized systems of tracking and tracing, the signals intelligence that will be used to create shadow worlds of mixed spatial reality.

Wharton’s social impact investing agenda was set up to allow the finance, technology, and bioinformatics sectors to profit off depopulation and a planned shift to transhumanism, next-gen eugenics. Suffice it to say, it is imperative that we stay out of “their game” at all costs. So, I wrapped the “Mousetrap” box in dark cloth and placed the revocation of consent with felt hearts and several gears and a wrench on top.

I finished by placing a stone from my Utah trip (hat tip to Huntsman) to weight it all down and added a pinch of sage ash.

My intention – transmuting hubris to humility, avarice to solidarity.

We will not get what we do not ask for.

I spent a few more hours that afternoon documenting other pieces of the puzzle around the University of Pennsylvania campus: positive psychology, character training, ed-tech, biomedical landmarks, albino rats, freemason founding fathers, the first general processing computer, nanotechnology, sustainability, Theosophy, and frigid alfresco dining. I was trained in research and cultural landscape documentation, so I bring those talents to this precarious yet possibly auspicious moment. I knit. I quilt. I piece together. In these videos I shine a light on a worrisome potential future, a virtual world dripping in war. ENIAC, the first computer, was used to calculate the trajectories of bombs. Artificial intelligence is being used to generate un-realities, a world of deep fakes where minds and bodies are programmed, even unknowingly, from birth and scored against demented, anti-life rubrics that assess measurable change according to some globalist’s leaderboard.

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Those who’ve lived in the crosshairs for generations are likely not as surprised at these developments as those of us trained to trust empire. We scrambled for crumbs dropped and raced to pinnacles of meritocracy for those brass rings, in such short supply – always. Seats at the table behind ivy-covered walls where a select few are granted access to the oak-paneled rooms where plans for engineered “life” are mapped out beyond the prying eyes of the masses.

A few years ago, I told a friend that what was needed was an abolition movement against blockchain identity and impact investing. I said that it would have to be a global peace movement of mothers against artificial intelligence. My assertions were dismissed as improbable. Now, I’m not so sure. With this great unraveling has come clarity. I believe there is a path where we can come together for ALL the children. We have the opportunity to honor the ancestors and take up the work so clearly laid out by John Trudell: use the intelligence given to us by the creator to go up against the machine of tech-no-logic.

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I extend an invitation for soup, sewing, solidarity – for all who would stand against militarized debt finance to imagine a future where healing is possible.

I hope the information I share here informs and inspires.

Revoking consent is the first step.

We need to gather more hearts willing to take a stand against a future where nature is ruled by robots.