What has remained astonishing to me is that people cannot seem to fathom what has happened over the course of several generations to our children. Time is stretched out too long for these atrocities to seem real, and yet they are real.

Natural childbirth and breastfeeding were stripped from us, and they called it progress.

We cast them out of our beds and left them alone in a dark room to cry it out and they called this progress.

Whole nutrient dense foods quietly vanished and mothers turned to microwaves and pre-packaged heavily processed foods and they called this progress.

They told us that it was normal to send your children into daycare and school at the earliest of ages and allow strangers to raise our young and they called this progress. They told us we needed to inject our children with carcinogenic chemicals and neurotoxins with no real safety studies for the duration of their childhood and they called this progress.

They told us little boys were too wild and they should be placed upon a cocktail of numbing and dangerous drugs for life and they called this progress.

They told us that little boys could be little girls and little girls could be little boys and that children were somehow born in the wrong bodies and they called this progress. They began slicing off children’s body parts and giving them wrong sex hormones and they called this progress.

They told us it was normal for children to spend their days in front of violent video games and inappropriate media content and they called this progress.

And they told us that all of our natural instincts, instilled within us through our ancestors since the beginnings of human time were never to be trusted, and that it was best to give over this instinct to their authority, and they called this progress.

And all the while our children became sicker and sicker with all kinds of ailments and diseases of body, heart, mind and soul, and they began searching and seeking to heal themselves in a culture bent towards illness.

And all the while the parents wondered what had gone wrong, and what had happened to cause such an enormous epidemic of profound challenges in our most young and vulnerable, and the parents asked the authorities and the authorities had no answers, only that to question such things was not appropriate. And many of the parents still believed them.

Yes, time is stretched out too long for most to slowly begin to process what has occurred, and to realize what it is that we as a culture have done to our children.

But if some could see time move in the blink of an eye, perhaps, perhaps they would begin to see the horrors that we have inflicted upon them all in the name of progress.

Perhaps some would be able to feel their cries, to hear their souls weeping, longing, yearning, seeking for anything that is true and beautiful and good in a world that has betrayed them, and gone utterly mad.

Perhaps these cries would break the fever of ignorance, the quiet spell that has been cast upon so many to allow themselves to turn against their own instincts and condone the torture of their children.

For suffering is the great awakener, and there is no greater suffering that may be witnessed than what it is that we have allowed to occur to our own children.

Time has grown shorter and shorter, and there is still so much for us to begin to comprehend.