I and I *

*Used in the rastafarian religion in place of “you and me” to show that all people are equal under Jah.

Your parents are coming to see I and I.

by George October 7, 2003

• Rastafarian expression of the physical body and mind being in oneness with soul.

The use of “I and I” is deliberate and intentional.

I and I about to sing praises unto the most high Jah.

I and I love rasta pasta with a side of ital stew.

by Fireyawdman June 2, 2018

Also means “I, with God’s help” or “I, with God-in-me”. Often used in place of “me”. Because the people’s Identity was destroyed in slavery, Identity is very important in RastafarI — so I gets capitalIzed a lot. They pronounce the I’s strongly in reggae songs. Emperor Haile Selassie I is not “the First” but “Haile Selassie *I*.”

I and I build the cabin
I and I plant the corn
Didn’t my people before me
slave for this country?

Jah Bob Marley

by Jay Young January 15, 2004

Previous definitions are good, but miss out on one thing.

the “I and I” also marks a distinktion between the body (that which can be seen) and the spirit. This is reinforced by the similarity of sound between “I and I” and “eye and I”.

The expression “I and I” thus expressedly includes all of ones being.

Also it can be used straight of as a possessive pronoun.

“I an I don like it!”;
“Is tha fe I an I?”;
“It belongs to I and I“.

by Illuminocentric November 29, 2006

A rasta term or rather rasta culture slang that means jah the heavenly father of the Rastafarian movement is with you or rather you and him.

Refers to the holy that resides within the self that is G-d experiencing creation through as well as along side i in i.

1. I in I are soul Jah till the end of my day.
2. Though babylon persecute I, I In I will keep my mind from goin astray.
3. I in I will never waver for He is my strength .

by floydshaman November 23, 2013

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Lately I am thinking that till very recently in many fams or schools or churches we might be physically hurt, or locked in closets, for going against elements of Churchist Dogma. I know a woman in her 40s now who was locked in a closet by other kids till she said she accepted Jesus, for example. Not exactly the Spanish Inquisition, but enough to scare the hell out of a kid, and leave an impression, and so I think we don’t really make up our own minds about religion until we are a few whole generations removed from any sort of physical or emotional torture, trauma, corporal punishment, confinement, or ostracism for questioning or ridiculing Churchist Dogma. I count myself as free to choose, but not without being extraordinarily Hard-Headed and able to cope with aggressive pecking hens and turkeys, as it were. I can do it, but carrying generational baggage. My father was too scarred by it to be free to choose. My mother was just crazy, and did not know what side she was on in anything. But looked at that generational way, it is not surprising that many people remain believing that believing matters, but only if we believe according to their specific formula. All other believing is Bad, etc. And get Very Weird about it, because this stuff was hammered in the same day they learned Poop was Bad. And to reckon it will pass as people wake up from the Nightmare of Medieval Thinking.

Churchism is a word I made up, and is self-explanatory. It refers to the belief that attending Church is itself a good thing, irrespective that each Denomination preserves the memory of being at War with the others, and torturing its own people for suspicion they secretly liked those other ‘Christians.’ The denominations this did not apply to were mainly Dissident Sects that ‘everyone’ wanted rooted out and sent on. It gets me around the issue of Christians saying that I am not talking about ‘Real Christianity.’ I get it. I was a teen convert Christian, and Christians with a different take on Jesus I felt were missing the message, or missing the love, or limited in their development, or if I was straight up honest, not Really Christian, not they way I meant it. And that means nothing in the History of Christianity had a lesson for me, other than that Satan had great Power over those who fail to get it right, like I did.

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by Tom Hirons

There is a temple I know whose roof is made of sky.

On its ceiling are painted clouds and stars

And the rooms and corridors are made of leaves and branches;

Its doors are open to all people, day and night.

Anyone may enter, whether or not they listen

To the wise words spoken within.

I know a synagogue through which a river flows

Against boulders inscribed with scriptures of moss,

Where salmon leap in exaltation and wild doves sing.

The rabbi has a beard of green-grey lichen and

His prayers are carried on the gurgling silver stream.

I know a mosque in which every direction is sacred.

Within that holy place, I see the face of the beloved

Beneath every stone and in the heart of every flower.

Fallen oak leaves are the flurries of the faithful, dancing;

The call to prayer is sung upon the whirling, wild wind.

The priestess of this shrine bars entry to no one;

She greets me in silence and in silence I depart.

Everyone is welcomed in for worship;

The congregation of all creatures give praise

And offerings to the hallowed sanctuary;

The object of their veneration is the world itself.

When I arrive in this boundless cathedral,

With my eyes unclouded by guile or cunning,

I know the presence of such exquisite beauty

And a joy so intense it’s almost unbearable.

I fall over myself trying to find the best way to worship;

I press my back against the trunk of a broad tree

Or a tower of cracked, stacked stones;

I tell my confession to the twisted heather,

And bow down before the yellow-flowered gorse;

I renew my vows in the presence of the damsel fly

And receive the blessing of the magpie and the wren.

All the while, skylarks carry my prayers to heaven.

At the altar of this great temple,

There is a fountain, invisible to my eyes.

If my worship is whole-hearted, I am washed

Clean of sorrow and all my restless thirst

Is quenched.

Standing in this sublime sanctuary,

I am cracked in two and an old well

Bubbles in my heart once again.

The water is so clear and delicious,

I cannot keep it to myself.

Will you come with me to that fountain now

And fill your cup of longing from this endless, untamed spring?

#poetry#animism#natureworship#sacredspace#reverence#priestess

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I copied and pasted this: the writers name is at end. Please do the same. Please

“The truth behind Oho.The train wreck

“So I think I’m finally calmed down enough to tell you all about my experience today. I really didn’t want to post the videos I posted today but feel it needs said.

Friday night my friend Sam Hall contacted me to let me know that he was planning on taking a look at the area around the East Palestine train derailment and asked if I wanted to join him.

Though I couldn’t Saturday because of a very important photoshoot in terms of my budding career I joined him today if only to help him for fish IDs, see it for myself, and to document what is quickly being covered up by national media, social media outlets, and now without a doubt the state of Ohio.

We met up this morning at the confluence of Leslie and Bull Runs and followed Leslie up about a mile and a half. This spot is roughly 3.5 miles from ground zero. At first there seemed to be some hope.

At the bridge we parked at we were greeted by the sight of a fairly large school of shiner fry (roseyface or possibly “strommon” or even spotfin). However this small glimmer hope was soon dashed as more and more dead mottled sculpin, various darters (mostly large colored up prespawn rainbow darters), and central stonerollers. Another 200ft upstream we started seeing those now famous oil looking rainbow plumes rising from the bottom. It was also where I really started to notice the smell that was reminiscent of treated lumber somewhat or freshly laid linoleum flooring.

By the time we hit Leslie itself outside of a

few dying crane fly larvae and some Allegheny crayfish that were still somehow barely clinging to life everything was dead. Loads of salamanders (mostly 2 lined, a few duskys, and a random redback), green and bullfrogs, sculpin, darters of all local varieties, stonerollers, and dace littered the bottom (after the creek had been “cleaned” several times). All the alge covering the rocks was black and rotting, and all the rocks on the bank were covered in a thick white crystalline film. Soon we were walking on a carpet of death, the numbers of dead wildlife now much more numerous. The weird thing was we could see everywhere someone had been “cleaning up” all the death and the spots hit hardest were in front of the few higher class residences. That may be a coincidence but after everything we went through today I’m a bit suspicious of that.

As we neared about a mile and trying to catalogue hundreds if not into the thousands of dead fish, millions of dead inverts, and scores of dead amphibians we got to a small private bridge over the creek where we were approached by some locals (the second and third of the day) who were kind but curious about who we were and what we were doing. We explained to them that we were independent folks from the envriomental field and were taking soil and water samples and documenting the dead life there so the public could know exactly what we were finding dead as well as documenting the oil like plumes as things were obviously starting to be covered up. They were happy to share their experience with us and said that they were also sure that they were being lied to about the supposed safety of the area. They both had wells and were waiting to hear back from private testers seeing they were told by the Norfolk and Southern guys that their well water was safe. We told them that it was most certainly not safe after what we had seen and that this issue was obviously much bigger and far reaching than the media is making it seem.

After about another half mile nearing closer to the crash site the smell, oily plumes, and death became even more prevalent. With already more than we could really handle in terms of documentation and my age making itself known we decided to head back.

When we got back to the bridge two ODNR (Ohio Department of Natural Resource) vehicles crossed (one truck and one Nissan SUV) noticed us, drove by two more times, and finally stopped. I came into this day with it in my head that there was a real chance of me getting arrested for something and was prepared for it. On top of that I was pissed and breaking inside despite how I was trying to appear in front of Sam who I just met in person for the first time. I was ready for war…I was ready to take a beating, get tossed in jail for lord knows how long, even take a bullet for this. Still I came at the first guy with my normal kind response to both make it seem like I was on their side (I mean we are supposed to be right?) and like we were there in some official fashion (Sam more or less was I having no licensing or permits in Ohio was merely an observer and fish IDer).

The first guy in the truck was older with grey hair and didn’t give us much attitude but was doing some serious probing. The second some younger punk looking guy looked like he was ready to start the shit show putting on and taking off his muck boots several times. The old guys first question of course was “What brings you here today?” To which my response was “I’ll give you three guesses and 2 don’t count…”. The guy got a “you sumbitch…” Smile and continued to ask us a bunch of questions some of which got further smart answers.

Eventually we got on the subject of dead fish species and that’s when Sam and I got slapped in the face with the most shocking statement of the day. The older ODNR guy said to us (my guess assuming we just got there) “Oh we haven’t seen any fresh dead fish since the 6th…” Sam and I looked at each other like “F@$KING SERIOUSLY?!!!” There were literally fresh dead fish all around us as we were talking to them!!! After assuring them that there were definitely fresh dead fish literally everywhere they left but not before making a point that we obviously didn’t have permission to cross all the property boundaries we did (or were going to cross). Here’s where things get really weird.

We headed just down stream to take one more look at the healthier looking section below the bridge. Not 10 minutes later 3 Black unmarked SUVs and an official looking unmarked van pulled up to our vehicles and appeared to take pics of our license plates. Sam got some pics of it as we both agreed that we should head over to see what the hell was going on. As we neared where we were getting out of the creek they pulled off.

We get back to our cars, take off our now contaminated gear, and try to scrub a little of the very noticeable chemical coating on our skin. As we’re saying our goodbyes I see an unmarked (local?) cop drive by us slow. I didn’t think much about it at first considering everything and what we just had happen. Sam leaves to head to another spot and I’m sitting there punching in directions for home when I see the same unmarked cop SUV drive by me real slow and pulled off. Again I didn’t think much about it again just figuring he checked me out and made the loop. I start checking some comments on the posts I made before the hour drive back and here he comes again slow passing me. This time I said “Oh f@$k this!” to myself and waited sure enough here he comes again for the 4th time in less than 10 minutes. I jump out and scream “WHAT?!!!” expecting and honestly wanting trouble at this point. Much to my surprise the guy just looked at me and pealed off up 170.

On the way home everything sunk in and I started really losing it. So much so that I got lost on a drive I’ve taken many times even while using Google maps (went to walking mode and I was so frustrated I could get it into drive mode). I pull into a laundry mat to reset things and calm myself a bit. An older guy in a big Ford and an almost mullet seen me and asked if I was OK. I just broke down, balled my eyes out, and vented on this poor guy for like ten minutes without him saying a word. Finally I stopped myself and apologized to him. I really wish I got his name as he just told me he understood as he lives not far from the derailment and has been working with a group that’s been getting bottled water to residents in need. Like everyone else today he told me thank you for what I did which somehow just made me hurt worse.

I gathered myself enough to make the drive home. Once there I tossed everything that touched that water today that I could. Had another break down/freak out when my mother asked about today. Jumped in the shower and broke down again as I attempted to feel clean after my day.

Let me tell you folks you can think something is terrible but until you see it first hand you’ll never have a true sense of the travesty of an event like this. It’s infuriating, is tragic, and it’s the most sinking hopeless feeling you can experience. I have to give the people of East Palestine Ohio credit though. They are fighters. Noone is taking this lying down! They are all saying f@$k that greasy railroad hush money getting thrown at them. They are demanding answers and are determined to get them. The people running the show in Ohio don’t deserve to have them as residents or that entire area as part of their state. After everything I pray to whatever deity that will listen that they get what they truly deserve and that I NEVER experience something like this again. I’ve seen desperate people, I’ve seen fish kills, I’ve seen death of the things I care the most about, I’ve felt incredible rage and hopelessness. But nothing has compared to this…this was something beyond reality. The whole damn day felt like a fever dream and now I just want to wake up.

“Johnathan Hoeflitch

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Russians are messing with Crimean Tatars because of Bad Blood over stuff from the 1200s. It never ends. We should remember this when starting Wars. Nothing decided by War stays decided. The battle lines stay right where we leave them. Nobody stays Beaten. #Phallusy

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