World of Peoples
The Age of Peace
End War 2050
ICAN 2030
World of Nations 2020
Question: Will Humanity take the third step toward global governance before or after
World War III?
In 2012 the doomsday clock was set at five minutes to midnight.
in 2015 the clock was adjusted to three minutes to midnight.
The Doomsday Clock 2017 set two and half minutes away from midnight. The closest it's been since 1953.
(A story to turn the clock back is contained herein.)
Our Choice
Our Call
Our Vision
It Is a Matter of Imagination and Collective Human Will.
These are the stories that directed my life journey.
Born 1943, my life directed by life-altering events. From an early age blessed or cursed with infrequent and unpredictable experiences so big I think of them as Transcendent. Some in dream states, others in deep meditation, most out-of-the-blue in real time.
At age 8, standing in the doorway looking out from the boy’s outhouse in back of the eight grade one room schoolhouse for Fall supper. A yearly farm festival in progress now the harvest is in the barns. All children outside to play while the adults set up … lots of yummy food.
It is near dusk. Across the way I can see the girl’s outhouse out of which a dozen or more schoolgirls run in white dresses all fluttering with the high-pitched squeal of young girls. In the same moment as if by pre- arranged signal out of the boy’s outhouse a gaggle of boys rushed by shouting out plans to catch and feel-up-the girls. Looking back on it, some kind of primitive rehearsal for things to come.
I for sure curious what they might feel and a tingle in my penis. And then behind me, to the right came a loud male voice, “You are not like other boys dominated by your penis.” I did not chase. Marked for life.
A boy of ten walking from barns milking cows at dusk to greet my cousins, my father’s brother’s three daughters. I approach the woodshed’s large entry, and a few feet within they are seated in the middle of the three steps that lead up and into my house.
The middle girl is my age. Outlined by the darkened interior their white dresses and white ankle stocking legs all akimbo, so involved giggling completely unaware of me. My eyes catch the middle girl, her legs gaped open, white panty crotch loose to expose the darkened slit within. My eyes rivet on the marvel of that beautiful curve. Drawn so powerfully I levitate, transfixed. I am aware of floating off to my right ten feet or so a few inches above the ground. I am weightless, Pure Energy not erotic but beatific. Even as I write these words, I can feel that blissful intensity and recall the feeling as I alight, my right toe touching the ground so softly. The Divine Feminine.
Age 14: In dream at dawn, I stare out my second-floor farmhouse window transfixed at the great grey wall of a monastery, to my left, and hearing the chant from within, “my heart sucked in ecstasy behind the wall”. Instead in the dream to my right, seeing a boy on a distant hill. He sent away by Abbot to the city golden roof tops he can see lighted by the morning sun … heart-broken with desire to live within the wall. The pain of that ache is so alive for me six decades later. The gift of monk.
At age 50 in Zen Practice seated in zendo, I experienced a disorienting ear-splitting roar and blinding light. No other thunder or lightning. I looked around, no one moved. I returned to breath counting and then a gruff loud voice in my right ear, “return to the faith of your childhood.” Over the next few years I gradually did so. Zen deepened my understanding of the essence of the faith of my childhood. I am grateful for His direction as I find great comfort in the sacred mystical practices, Roman Catholic. These spiritual practices, long neglected, have much to offer everyday life. St. Bernard begins,” Listen.” The gift of listening in deep silence to profound mysteries. And to each other, to listen well is love well. Even to listen to the enemy as Jesus would want.
At age 70 I entered Our Lady of Mepkin Monastery, Monks Corner, S.C., for three month discernment. My wife of forty one years deceased then almost two years, with intent to live behind the wall. Instead, in deep contemplation on the morning before I intended to accept Abbot Stan’s generous offer of Oblate to live within, Jesus once again. In deep meditation on a harsh mountain top so barren in a flash, His Blazing Face and Piercing Eyes were blinding. I turned my head aside to not loose my sight. That Image imprinted in my soul. These words from Him … mind to mind … “End War Forever”, in my mind I hesitated, and the command strictly given, “Do It”.
Abbot Stan thought this very personal encounter with Jesus, the “real deal”. My Mt Tabor Experience. And so, I was once again turned aside living behind the wall. My life is not fully my own since hearing those words so indelibility inked on my soul. The gifts take you where you do not want to go.
Now almost five years since that Encounter, the meaning of the meme End War Forever is unfolding even as I am finding the doing the undoing of war is quite a task. Nothing kills a conversation quicker than mentioning the idea of ending war. Even among peace activists. "Too big, can't be done". Evidence I believe of humanity as war conscious dominant. Not yet ready to be law conscious dominant in matters of war. This game is rigged in favor of war. Seems yet a while before the idea of an age of peace on planet earth catches the global imagination. But when it does … in an act of global imagination humanity takes a stand in GlobalPeacePark2050 on the north east corner Avenue War and Peace Street. In Imago in that virtual space, together on this one thing, whatever other differences we have to be justly resolved, on ending war, we, planet earth humanity stand as one. Or die separately.
Our mission is to champion a voting humanity non-violently walking down Peace Street to an Age of Peace.
2050 is our deadline.
GlobalPeacePark2050, sign the guest book. Your signature an electronic pulse to give life to the global platform needed to end war. Einstein's hope becomes a reality.
In the Name of Peace We Come,
