Robert N. Reincke

I’m not interested in stewing fear and I certainly hope that I’m wrong—my intent is to illuminate, not cause anxiety. The market is about to crash—again. I predict it will happen anytime during or after August 5, 2010. It will crash in a major way and the world will change completely because of it. This time for real.

Has everyone forgotten that not that long ago, the U.S. government had to boost the economy (and the banking system: unfortunately) with nearly $1,000,000,000,000? Does everyone think that everything can go back to normal, especially when normal was obviously inharmonious on many levels (spiritually and materially—not to mention wrong in terms of our relationship with the planet).

The other day, my boyfriend got an invitation from Citibank to get a visa with 0% interest until 2012. Does Citibank think that it’s still 2007? If so, isn’t there a problem with that?

The economy is still run like it used to be before the crash of 2008. Where is new manufacturing that was supposed to root our tax base in actual goods produced instead of a service infrastructure built on air? Why is it that the nation is still being run by institutions that profit from the movement of money (the stock market just went up because European banks have made a lot of money…really?) and large corporations that don’t really use American workers to produce anything real? What is the basis for true real long-term growth—I’m not seeing it. Has manufacturing grown? Where has what we make in this country changed for the better? Why is it that consumers have forgotten the 2008 crash?

It’s about to happen again. August and October are the traditional months for huge market corrections. But this time everything has to change. The underlying foundation of our whole financial system is unbalanced. The nature of how businesses are formed and operate—for the sole purpose of making money without any integrity—is fundamentally inharmonious. Companies have to get back to integrity and not just making profit for profit’s sake. The American worker is exhausted, is overworked, and has limited vacation time, health care, and retirement—not to mention is debt ridden and overextended. The greed of those who have profited has grown to such outlandish proportions it’s unspeakable.

Recently a guy named Patrick Murphy wrote an article on MarketWatch entitled “the double dip looks doubly certain.” http://www.marketwatch.com/story/double-dip-looks-doubly-certain-2010-07-20. I think it’s a great read. Read it and then go straight to your ATM machine and take out as much cash as you can and hide it. We’re in for a second crash. This will be worse than anything we’ve ever known before and it will reshape everything.

My advice to you is this: once it happens, do not just sit there in front of the television listening to or watching the news. The news is owned by the same titans that got us into this mess and it’s corporate intent is to zone you into it to sell advertising by entertaining you with fear like a horror movie. Instead, look towards your local community and see what you can do for it. Look inside of yourself and ask how you can participate in the rebirth that is inevitable after the dust has settled.

Think of positive ways we can rebuild our world based upon good intent, value, and people working in areas that they are meant to. The led by banks, financial institutions, and the American dollar (which is derived from U.S. private banks through the Fed (look it up, the Fed is a “quasi” public/private institution managed by BANKERS)) is over. Things have to change and this upcoming second crash will do that. Focus on the future, a better future, where equality and intent rule the day and where your own internal sense of balance and well-being have been corrected, and things will be better. But in the meantime, tighten your seatbelts. It’s all over.

I found the orchid two years ago in a trashcan a thousand miles away. It now proudly sits on our living room table in an antique porcelain vase. The last of its once-brilliant red-violet blooms dangles in its demise.

The flowerless orchid was perched upright on the top of a heap of garbage in a West Hollywood trashcan. Its flowers had fallen, leaving a barren vine held to a stick by a plastic dragonfly. I took it home where my partner, Mike, gently cut off its flowerless stalk and began to nurture the abused plant. Despite his attentive care, the plant looked like it may die.

We knew it was time to move when the noise pollution from leaf blowing landscapers and pile-driving, jack-hammering construction workers from nearby buildings became so consistently annoying that I found myself wearing construction ear muffs in our cramped apartment. Then Mike totaled his car on his drive to work, which began his five-hour commute via public transit. We had long-ago tired of sky-high rent, beeping trucks, the sting of mosquitoes through unscreened windows, and broiling heat from an endless and increasingly harsh sun. Mike's near-fatality was the last straw.

The economic crash of late 2008 frightened me into interviewing for a job in a friendly and creative city. Portland was mellow and green; its clean, vibrant air often misty. I packed even though the job never finalized (thank Gd!); I knew we'd find a way. A long-weekend trip gave us hope for a teaching job for Mike, and soon we found an affordable rental. We'd move me, Spunky, Pollo the fish, and most the furniture first. Mike would join in a month when he finished his old job. The plants would remain until we brought Mike up.

When Mike returned to West Hollywood after accompanying our cat and me up to Portland, he found that the orchid had begun to bloom. He text-messaged a photo of its magnificent flowers. A true gift, the orchid helped keep him sane in a barren apartment far away from those he loved. Soon his teaching job came through.

When it came time for us to drive Mike, the remaining household goods, and the plants, we realized we had far too much to fit in the SUV we rented to drive him up. Mike suggested that since the orchid's full cascade of flowers were so unwieldy, perhaps we should give it to his mother; it could easily be crushed in the over-packed car. We agreed not to, and managed to safely pack it. Later I realized that the orchid that was once discarded because it didn't have any flowers was nearly lost a second time because it had.

Happy in its new home, it bloomed an unprecedented four months—during Mike's transition to his new job, my acceptance into art school, and, unfortunately, the construction noise of a new sewer line being installed just outside our house. It will be flowerless for at least a year—orchids do not bloom that often. Only a few fleshy leaves will be supported by spindly roots, some which coil above the bark. Always beautiful to us, it will remain in its spot on the center of the table.

In the back of our garden stand clumps of bamboo appropriately named clumping bamboo. Some of it had been cut to dozens of razor sharp stumps by yard hackers before we moved in (I injured my heal and arch while naively walking barefoot in the dark shortly after we arrived). Another section of it hadn’t been cut at all.

The uncut portion was thick with its own dead branches, and bent over a wooden fence into our neighbor’s yard. This unruly full-grown portion (I’ve learned all parts of the bamboo plant can be monstrously out-of-control) was in the far right corner of our garden. Being one who loves symbolism and knows a bit about Feng Shui, I determined that this part of the bamboo was in my Feng Shui “Relationship Corner.” Another section of razor-sharp clumps rests in the middle of the back garden, which is my “Fame/Illumination/Self Expression” area—not a good place to have mangling, bamboo shards!

One recent sunny day, I decided it was time to start cleaning it up. Having nothing other than rose clippers, I went to the local, super-friendly, hardware store to obtain the proper tools. This store is staffed by a brigade of such over-the-top helpful people that Mike can’t stand going there. I like it, and enjoy the free popcorn on Tuesday (Mike isn’t too much into popcorn). (more…)

When Mike and I moved into our little home in Portland we were stunned to discover a garden house in our backyard. We had rented the house sight unseen and the landlord hadn’t mentioned it. It serves no purpose now; its roof leaks and some of the wood surrounding it is giving way. I can’t store garden tools in it and it’s completely impractical as a studio for my art.

Yet it’s beautiful. It’s original builder put a lot of thought and effort into it, designing it in a handsome mid-century style. More recently the little wooden house had been carefully painted in blue and green; colors I ascribe to Portland and inspiration for my new oil painting palette. Surrounded by camellia trees and very old, tall hedges, it sits perfectly in the far left corner of the yard. This corner is the money corner in Feng Sui. The house represents our money. So what, I wondered does it represent? (more…)