By tradition, March is a windy month.  Frigid Old Winter is blown into the past and the lusty promises of a new Spring and Summer whine and worry about us, in contrary gusts.  Such too, is the innocence of America, as she rides into the tumult.

March has older traditions than innocence and promise.  Mars, the God of war, the color of blood.  The blood of Saint and Sinner alike sense the changes which ride the early zephyrs of political, social and financial sea change as the smoke and ash ride the winds of war.

The Roman god, Mars, represented more than simple war.  Mars was regarded as the protector of the land and of crops, the fruit of the land.  To Romans, Mars was the father of Romulus, the founder of the Roman nation, later to be the famed Empire of Rome. The sounds are familiar today.

March is a time of change.  March is a time for preparation.  March is a time for beginning. We might ask "What change? What preparation and what beginning?"

For a man who named himself Julius Caesar, the changes of March were great for both the man and the nation. "Beware the Ides of March"was the warning given to him.  On the Ides of March, Julius declared himself the forever dictator of Rome.  It is said, that as he approached the Senate, he greeted the one who had carried the warning with a jest, "the Ides of March has come. (and nothing of it)."  To which the seer responded, "Aye Caesar, but not gone."

If this March brings to us the changes so long overdue for our society, we are unthinking and therefore, unprepared.

Our expiring winter has brought us a March accompanied by ancient traditions. These ring true, reflecting the hardscrabble of our current existence in the United States of America. Our Rights, our Liberty, our Peace have vanished as quietly as drafts under the doors of our legislatures. The Great American Experiment was betrayed at the start by Alexander Hamilton and others, betrayed at the middle by Abraham Lincoln and others and again today, a time when “others” usurp and rule behind the straw men who inhabit the Wicker Man of American leadership.

This March is a time to prepare the land for our food and sustenance, to preserve our land for our future in self determination and to prepare for war to preserve our Republic, the defender of our individual and inherent rights and liberty of their free exercise.

The odor of rot and the aroma of freedom are so thoroughly mixed in our society that the great majority of us cannot discern the one from the other.  Accordingly, the great number of our society surround themselves with the detritus of corrupted honor, of uncomprehended morality and ethics, of unpayable and inescapable debt, of flagrant abuse of power, of wars for the sake of war and for the profits and powers that accrue to those who supply and wage them, of the contempt of public servants for those who have entrusted them to govern faithfully, of the openly defiant judiciary and of other officials for our authority to make the laws under which they are commanded to obey, of treason, which has brought the false blossoms and paper promises of prosperity to a Winter from which no wind may bring us relief. They believe themselves free and prosperous, plastered with dung and disease of the soul.

The Promise of Winters Past has morphed into Pagan Changes carried on the winds of March. The view ahead is not clear, there is smoke and darkness. The vision of imagination is blurred by blood and whispered warnings are hurried away on the howls of the Winds of Change.

I believe that we are past the great Winter of our Republic. Now, we shall observe if we have learned enough to reject the false promises of liars and traitors. Will we surrender to idleness and poverty of semi-comfort? Or will we fly the Winds of March into a Spring of renewal of Individual Rights and Liberty, to begin a period of self-determination and prosperity and bear with gladness the individual uncertainty and responsibility which accompany the adventure of true Liberty and self-determination?

It will be a contest which will be shared globally, with ordinary Americans in the eyes of the never-free as the Icons of individual Rights and Liberty in mortal combat with the advocates of  mundane human emptiness, village poverty and universal hopelessness.

If you will not know and act today when your hand and voice are necessary, you will howl when the March winds pass from our time, unrewarded and immaterial.