both forces external to us and those we generate inside our bodies by virtue of toxin-producing mechanisms.

Once understood and accepted, the roots of such monumental challenges can effectively be addressed. Ignored it will not go away; it will be a disaster.

Truth has no special time of its own. Its hour is now - always.~ Albert Schweitzer

In 1837, Danish author Hans Christian Andersen wrote about a ruler so obsessed with his appearance that he spent vast fortunes on clothes and euphorically changed them several times a day. He paid scant attention to his people, his soldiers, the theatre, or the needs of the city. He wished only to revel in his vestments and gloat over his visage in a mirror.

The emperor’s little city welcomed travelers from around the globe. One day the arrivals included two shysters – weavers they called themselves – who declared they could weave magical cloth and create clothes visible only to those of high mind and honest heart. They said that by donning such raiment the Emperor would be able to determine who was good, who was bad and who was on his side.

His vanity massaged, the emperor embraced the idea and made it so. The shysters set about immediately weaving invisible cloth on invisible looms and every loon in the area stopped by to admire their work including the Emperor’s honest old minister, who like everyone else saw absolutely nothing. Still, he told the emperor that the cloth, the colors, the patterns were dazzling, glorious, resplendent, truly beyond description. ‘Beyond description’ at least was true.

Came the day the clothes were ready, came the day of the grand parade whereupon the Emperor would display his duplicitous visage to his poor deluded subjects. Dressed by his aids in the invisible garments, he saw himself resplendent in soft velvet and gold brocade and found his reflection good. In a lavish open coach drawn by six lively stallions he presented himself to his subjects who raved about how fabulous he looked. A fantasy he was! A hedonist’s delight! The crowd applauded – and then suddenly became silent as a small boy’s voice rang out:

"But he has nothing on at all," said a little child at last. "Good heavens! Listen to the voice of an innocent child," said the father, and one whispered to the other what the child had said. "But he has nothing on at all," cried at last the whole people. That made a deep impression upon the emperor, for it seemed to him that they were right; but he thought to himself, "Now I must bear up to the end." And the chamberlains walked with still greater dignity, as if they carried a train which did exist." ('The Emperor's New Suit,' by Hans Christian Anderson, 1837)