Perfect, On Point, Positive JuJu!

Satire. The power of well-directed, on-point humor. Puncturing the false, the over-blown, the mean. Knocking down the brazenly powerful, those who would belittle and bully those who happen to be weaker, less wealthy, less fortunate than themselves. 

There is something to be said for taking down the worst amongst us with intelligence, grace and a deft touch. There are some of among us who really should be hooted off the national stage. The power & joy of the belly laugh. Sometimes it just feels so good. And it's all we really need. Good medicine. Positive JuJu!

Sounds Familiar... "Impulsive, out-of-control sociopaths."

The Power Paradox... this seems "of the moment," for sure...

The power paradox is this: we rise in power and make a difference in the world due to what is best about human nature, but we fall from power due to what is worst. We gain a capacity to make a difference in the world by enhancing the lives of others, but the very experience of having power and privilege leads us to behave, in our worst moments, like impulsive, out-of-control sociopaths.

What to See, What to Believe

We see what we want to see. And believe what we want to believe. We are biased. If there are facts out there in the world, sometimes they are elusive. Sometimes not. Sometimes you trip over a fact. Or run into one. And then you must adjust. But many of us have no problem riding along with our biases. We all can live a life in a bubble of our own making.

Many of us realize if you repeat a lie often, and with conviction and volume, there are many folks who will go right along with you, who will want to believe, even if it's a poorly made thing. 

Something simple like a fact, isn't really all that simple. Right? What if we can't agree on the truth, on what really exists? There are perceptions, biases, opinions, hopes, dreams, delusions, bad faith, bad blood. Mix it all together and well, who knows what kind of cocktail you come up with.

A society, a country, a culture that has a slippery grasp on what is... yeah, more of a fun house, a hall of mirrors. No wonder we are all so confused, unhappy, in conflict. We can't agree on what to agree on.

Not Normal!

Can it be? Can it fly? Can a man, a big, blustery man, get up on the national stage, and blatantly, brazenly lie over and over? And get away with it?

I am impressed by the over-the-top audacity of guy lying thru his teeth in front of millions of people. He knows, that we know, that he knows that he is lying. And he does it with no shame or embarrassment. That is pretty amazing, sort of impressive, and probably some kind of pathology.

Not normal! That quality, that ability has probably worked pretty well for him in the real estate biz. Bully the contractors, bully the debtors, bully the naysayers, bully everyone long and hard enough and you win.

This is a controlled experiment. Will we let the bullshit float? Will we elevate the bullshit artist? There seem to be some folks who have no problem with this guy. Either they actually believe all the lies this man tells, (and then they are fools), or they just don't care (then they are knaves), and/or they give the guy points for being so over the top brazen (then they are fools and knaves).

Funny. The rest of us? We should hoot this man off the stage into some kind of rehab or long-term seclusion.

Blame it on the Mirror Neurons!

Blame it on the "mirror neurons."  Some of us are very susceptible to the feelings, thoughts, and vibes of others. We are big, walking, talking, thinking mirrors. So the world we see, the environment we live in, the people and things we interact with, help define what we think, see, feel.

And we are either adapting to, encompassing, embracing, or recoiling from, pulling back, welcoming in, or beating a hasty retreat.

Maybe that's not so surprising. Some of us are more sensitive, more susceptible than others. Don't really know if this is some kind of advantage, a positive trait to have, or a distinct disadvantage, a handicap.

I do know it means down-time, quiet-time, time away from others, from the constant stream of chatter is essential. Some of us really need to be careful who we hang around with, where we live, where we go, the places we choose to frequent.

We must choose wisely. We are mirrors. Reflecting. 

Beatles - the Song Remains the Same!

We walked into the Music Box Theater in Chicago yesterday. Sat down in the room where Ron Howard's "new" Beatles movie was showing. What were we thinking? A little r&r band that broke up in 1970. We knew the story. Many of us know the story. It's our Pop Culture Origin Story. Elvis was the Old Testament, the Beatles the New Testament. Better than the "Greatest Story Ever Told," because really that was just an old recycled myth told again and again - a god born to a virgin, lives, performs miracles, dies, and then resurrects. Happened all the time in the old days - many times, many cultures, over and over again. 

This Beatles thing is the really amazing story. 4 young men from Liverpool England conquer the world playing little pop songs. Look at the hair, the suits, the boots! 4 young men merge into one charismatic ball of energy. Watch all the little girls screaming themselves into ecstatic exhaustion, look at all the little boys deciding it might be a good idea to buy an electric guitar and start a band.

So anyway, we sat and watched the film - everything looking all shiny, and new, and sounding pretty amazing, most probably sonically augmented and enhanced. The Beatles live as you really, really want to hear them. And it is pretty damn good. Still exuberant, still joyous, still fun. A tight little rock & roll band. 2 guitars, a bass & drum. Stunning voices, great harmonies, stellar melodies. The full 30 min Shea Stadium set included at the end of the film.

All those years ago. The Song Remains the Same. What's new this time for me? The joy is mixed with sadness, that time and place is a land far away, never to be seen & heard again. Lennon is gone, Harrison is gone. That little band broke up long ago. You realize many folks you see on screen are long gone. That's the way it goes.

And that old Beatlemania looks pretty crazy. Silly. Quaint. The reaction to those 4 young men seems totally mad. Unexplainable. A sort of mass hysteria. But still there is a kick. An energy bump. That energy bubble surrounding those 4 young men. Pretty extraordinary. And then, when they stopped touring? Their recorded output got even better, the songwriting deeper, more experimental, so creative, so exploratory. Major musical/social/cultural impact. For sure.  Extraordinary. Beatles!

One Big Family!

You would think maybe this would be big news... do we still listen to Scientists?

Scientists tell us that DNA shows that we are all brothers and sisters. We all evolved from the same tribe. We are all, essentially, Africans. The blackest of the black, the whitest of the white. Different branches of the same tree.

We have some minor cosmetic, cultural, religious differences, but as humans we are all from the same tribe. Our ancestors split from Africa about 50,000 to 80,000 years ago, probably looking for the next happy meal. Maybe all of us humans should start thinking like one big family? Not so different. Essentially the same.

I propose less blood, more hugs, less hate, more love. When you look in the eyes of another, think, remind yourself, you are looking in a mirror!

The Religion of Big Pharma!

A soul sickness. For many people, "God is dead." Most assuredly. Maybe a broader, deeper sense of spirituality is lost too? How to fill the void? Many of my fellow human beings have turned to pharmaceuticals. Mood-enhancers. Pain-killers.

So god, or a belief in a god-like goodness, or purpose, is replaced with a drug, a chemical cocktail. This is a different thing than taking a drug to find a way to god. There was that psychedelic movement that used the chemicals to find some kind of transcendence. This was primarily replaced with a movement towards drugs that led to a numbness, a search for a certain oblivion. "Let's party!"

No longer the search for god, a turn to an all-encompassing, medicated state.

Most folks taking pharmaceuticals today have given up a search for transcendence and replaced it with a deeply medicated existence, they are using the drugs to maintain; trying to make it day to day, trying to find a reason to live - battling depression, bi-polar disorder, etc. I mean, what else you got?!

This is not a lament. Just an observation. It is kind of amazing how pharmaceuticals have completely invaded our culture, and have instituted themselves as one of our major, mainstream religions. 

I've never turned to the pill, never have bowed down to Big Pharma. I do not believe in the meds. I mean, I don't doubt that putting chemicals in your body can change you. We all do it, in a way, with food & drink, and physical activity. We play with the chemistry of our bodies all the time. But this giving up to a day to day medicated state, as if living itself is a sort of illness that needs to be treated & overcome, seems like a hollow path.

I believe many of us are suffering a soul-sickness, a spiritual crisis. The meds are a sideshow.

I'm still on my own clunky, funky, personal spiritual quest. I say each to their own. We all must find our way, the way we find our way. God? Well, who knows? I do know I have experienced an all-encompassing connection to everything that lives. And everything lives. As far as I can see.

Is that enough? Probably. I'm still working it out. Clear-eyed, clear-headed, or at least as clear as I can be.

Smart to be Shallow!

Evan Osnos takes you where you really, really, really don't want to go. A super-scary thought-train. Trump's First Term!  Try it on for size. Your brain will want to seize up. You will want to take a shower afterwards, for sure, and maybe do some crack, or whatever it is you do to unwind and erase your memory banks.

It's sort of funny-scary. Some amazingly hilarious and frightening quotes from some really hilarious and frightening people...

Funny, but not so funny. Seriously deluded, brain-dead and actively, proudly malevolent folks. So many great quotes from the man himself. Here's a good one...

"The day I realized it can be smart to be shallow was, for me, a deep experience." - D. Trump in "Think Like a Billionaire" - 2004. 

A Handsome Family Tuesday!

My Lovely Companion and I ventured out to Rennie Sparks art opening last night. Rennie's first ever art show, hosted by Aron Packer. Rennie's art is kicky, cool, funky, lively, shimmering, colorful, lots of slithering, slippery beings: snakes, octopi, worms, frogs. Plus there was a vitrine featuring cat's whiskers, and there were some cool old dog food cans that formed an unlikely, improbable sculpture. And don't forget the custom Telecasters painted, and transformed, think: EelCaster!

It was all so cool and inspiring.

Plus we stood 3 feet way as the Rennie & Brett performed a short set as the Handsome Family. One of the all-time great shows. For sure. Afterwards we got to meet them and told them how much their music and art has inspired us too.

It was a pretty eventful Tuesday night...

White Riot: Count Me Out!

Zack Beauchamp's "White Riot" is a must-read. Might help give a bit of context to our disturbing political landscape.

It's funny. I'm white. The whitest of whiteys. A Heinz 57 of whiteness. I mean, I come from a long line of white folks. 

Of course, if you go back far enough, go all the way back to Mitochondrial Eve, well, the source, the fountain, our most recent common ancestor, was most likely dark-skinned, but in the intervening years, somewhere along the line, the melanin in the skin of my ancestral line pretty much faded to white.

Pasty-faced. Pale Faced. White. Dotted with a healthy group of freckles. 

My people came from Poland, Russia, Germany, France, Ireland, Romania. Pretty Euro-centric. Plus I live with a white girl. A white girl with a long line of whiteness behind her too. 

But despite all the whiteness, I harbor no anti-immigrant feelings. I do not have any strong racial animus. I do not judge people by their skin-color. I do my best not to stereotype or demonize whole groups of people. That is so counter to my mind-set. When I read about deep in the bone racism, I am always pretty much baffled.

This whole White Riot phenomenon has no appeal or pull on me. It's kind of a mystery. Right?! Why do some white folks think they are better or different, more entitled, than anyone else? Seems pretty stupid. Supreme ignorance. But, anyway, I am happy that I am the way that I am. I think it's a much more human and humane way to live. White, but trying my best to be an open-minded, welcoming human being. A being, a human being, on a planet filled with an incredible diversity of beings.

Unload the Head!

Events conspire...

"I need a dump-truck mama, to unload my head." - B. Dylan

Sometimes everything goes up in smoke. Time for a clearing. Clear your mind, clear your head, clear your space. I like to live in my little shining bubble of creativity. It's an invisible, little bubble. It seems fragile, but it's not. I've carried it with me for many years. I guard it. Feed it. Live inside it.

Still most of the world doesn't care, doesn't know it even exists. Some of my closest friends and colleagues are clueless about it. So I must care for it on my own. A sacred space. Best not to talk about it much. Just know it's there. Keep it with mine.

Every once in awhile, you must clear it, unload it. Give it a chance to breathe. Recharge. And wait to be filled again.

The Superstar of Assholes!

Josh Marshall isn't a psychiatrist, or psychologist. He's a political blogger, but you know, I love how he has been willing to dwell on the mind of Trump. A dangerous, scary place to dwell. This little post on the "Fever Within" is quite good. Marshall's explanation of Trump is that he lives in a "psychic economy of aggression and domination." Probably so. If I were to sum the man up, I would say Trump is just a major-league asshole.

Hilary Clinton is running a campaign for President. Trump is not. He is displaying his asshole-dom to America and daring us all to vote him in to office. Who knows, maybe it works? Hard to believe, but stranger things have happened.  Maybe lots of people have given up on politics? And the hard work of working together. Seems there are plenty of folks who live in a post-truth, post-hope, post-fact, post-reason world.

There are lots of ill-informed, pissed off people in our country. And maybe the dominating male is a default go-to? The Reality TV guy puts on a pretty good show. He is loud & proud. I can't stand the man. Really, really despise this guy. Do not want to spend the next 4 years with him on the national scene. Cannot imagine it.

How far can the asshole go? We shall find out!

The Bloated, Orange-Faced, Short-Fingered, Hair-Challenged Gas Bag Can't Help Himself!

The Bloated, Orange-Faced, Short-Fingered, Hair-Challenged Gas-Bag can't help himself. He has spent a life-time being an open-faced asshole. And now that he is on the big stage, he must push into a deeper zone of asshole-dom just to command attention.

Maybe, just maybe the National Media Machine has finally had enough of being played for total saps? Maybe, maybe not. And I guess we will find out if anyone listens to the media anymore. 

Obviously, there is a good percentage of the population that just doesn't care. They want the Orange-Faced Asshole to shake things up. Doesn't matter what he says, what he does. Being a big asshole is the whole point of the campaign.

He has taken asshole-dom to an epic level:  "Guns, gun, guns, right? I think what we should do is -- she goes around with armed guards like you have never seen before. I think that her armed bodyguards should drop all weapons. They should disarm, right? Immediately -- what do you think? Yes? Yes? Take their guns away! She doesn't want guns. Let's see what happens to her."

Anyway, for the rest of us, we can only hope that he will be relentlessly hammered with "the truth," between now and election day. I still think this Gassy Bag of a human being will implode. I pray and count the days!

The Unthinkable is Thinkable!

And then one morning you wake up, you go to your Data Guru and you read the unthinkable. All your optimism sort of vanishes in an instant. You think the unthinkable for a few moments. Could it be? Could all your hopes and good feelings be dashed by your fears and bad blood? The data is the data. And the country is the country. And your little bubble isn't representative of the country as a whole. You like your little bubble. You are glad you don't live in the Red Country. And so much of your country is Red. Yikes!

Undeniable Basket!

Yes, a "basket of deplorables."  A nice turn of phrase. And oh so true. "The racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, Islamophobic - you name it." Sometimes the truth comes out. It's a nice shiny thing. Undeniable.

Is that How it Happens?

Is that how it happens? 

Playing my electric guitar thru an old amp in our rehearsal studio. It's one of those old two-prong, tube amps. I guess, not grounded. I'm playing electric guitar, and I reach my hand out and adjust my microphone. And a little blast of electricity courses thru me. Not a big blast, just a little rippling stream of electricity. I don't freak out, don't feel pain, don't really react in any overt way, except, there is this little thought bubble in my head: "Wow, that's electricity!" 

I finish the session, make sure not to touch the microphone. Turn off the amp. Put my electric guitar in it's case. I tell my friend about the little event. They remark: "That's why they call those old-time amps, 'Widow-Makers.'"

And I think: Is that how it happens?

Numb to the Dumb!

This is probably true... we are numb to the dumb. Some ignoramus gets on TV and starts talking like an ignoramus. Ho hum. Oh yeah, the guy wants a pretty important job, a job he really knows nothing about, and he shows clearly that he shouldn't have the job, yeah, well, what else you got? Oh yeah, he's also a blatant, over the top racist, spewing nonsense and hate, but really, so what, what else is new? It's a bit mind-boggling, and at the same time, not surprising. Weirds-ville...

Someone Else and You!

Someone else faints, and your life passes before your eyes. Live long enough, and you know that people are resilient, but people are also fragile. And you realize how everything, and everyone, really is connected, and you think you know how things may roll out, but you also know you don't really know.  You do know that occasionally there are those Black Swan events. And you hope this isn't one of them. You hope. You don't know.

A Working Towards...

You didn't realize it for a long time...

You work. You play. You rehearse. You practice. You spend a lot of time in focused and intense sessions with other folks who also, play, rehearse, and practice.

You "try to master your instrument." But you realize "mastery" is a mystery. You will never master anything. There is only the "working towards." You play. You do your best. You look for happy accidents. You create moments. You live inside those moments.

What you didn't realize -  the journey has not been about complexity, it has not really been about technique, technique is good, technique is a given, you need to know the fundamentals, you need to develop a "good practice," and always be committed to that practice - but you have always been working towards a casual simplicity, a confident ease. 

Saying less, or only the essential, but saying it with a pure, crystalline intelligence. Every gesture, pose, word, note, chord - every little thing - is everything in a nutshell. The silences around the gesture, pose, word, note, chord are just as important as the essential thing.

And sometimes you luck into this casual simplicity. And "the luck" is a byproduct of the approach. If you pay attention, you can prepare and make yourself more open to those moments of luck. That's what you are doing. That's why you are doing what you are doing.

Yes, There Really Was a Golden Era!

A lost "Golden Era." Is there anything to it? Is it just nostalgia - a pining desire for another time & place? Is it all bound up with a lost innocence? An adult's vain & pointless wish to be young once again?

I am always a bit suspicious when someone says that things (whatever things), "were better so much better then." But I was doing a bit of research on guitars and came across this little essay on Martin guitars and "The Golden Era Instruments." It asks the sad and wistful question: "Will there be anymore?"

And the answer? Probably not! 

"Consequently, I would narrow Martin's Golden Era to only a five-year span, from 1934-39.

Obviously, what human hands did once, they should be able to do again, but today's makers are having increasing difficulty getting the materials that were available to the Golden Era makers. The Golden Era makers were able to get old growth lumber that was air-dried for at least a decade. Today almost all the wood available is second growth and not well-seasoned, so virtually all manufacturers use kiln-dried wood, which is not nearly as stable, nor does it sound the same as the old style air-dried well-seasoned wood. In addition, few makers today use hide glue, and the lacquer formulas available today are quite different from those of the 1920s through the 1960s."

A Conjuring, A Spell.

I am re-reading Robert Graves' "The White Goddess." I found a train ticket in the book, must have used it as a book mark, it's from 1996, so I figure that's about the time I first read it. It is a "head-scratcher." It is a poetic flight. It is a secret history, a confabulation. It is vexing. It is weird. It is beautiful.

I have no clue if it's based in any kind of reality. Probably there's a bit of reality in there, but it's an amazing book, with wild insights, and strange things on just about every page. It's an argument. A revelation. A treatise. A riddle. A fantastical text. Names, dates, tribes, peoples, gods, trees, languages, rituals, sacrifices, wars, battles, religious feasts and all things human conspire together.

It is a conjuring. It is madness. I like it very much. Often my eyes cloud over and it's puts me to sleep, but I always pick it back up. I am determined to finish it. Again. I think it's a spell. I have fallen under it. I am living in a cloud. And I like it.

Jupiter is in the House!

Do I believe in Astrology? I think: "Why Not?" I mean, I have a good friend who pretty much runs their life by the stars, and this person is cool and beautiful and inspiring, and I do like all the imagery, and the mythology, and I do like to imagine there is a higher purpose, and that the stars are not just "twinkles in the nothingness."

I take Astrology as one grand metaphor. A poetic way to view the Universe. Not a science, but well, what the hell. I do like all that hocus-pocus. 

Someone did a Astrological Chart for me awhile back. I am Libra with Libra Rising. Lots of Libra there. Air of Air. Which if you know me sounds about right. Too much air makes the baby go blind! So Jupiter is entering my house... look for beauty, balance and bounty! I am ready, baby!

To Flow!

There is a lesson in the flow. Maybe that's an insight? The long flow of events, images, names, dates, peoples, ideas, stories.

An unrelenting onslaught. Never hesitates, never stops, always, always flowing. And just seeing the flow, experiencing the flow, going with the flow. That alone is a choice, a journey, a lesson. To flow.

The Wheel!

The Wheel. The Grand Cycle of Life/Death/Rebirth. Is it all just a grind? A churn? Is it like an amusement park ride? Do we cling to the wheel? Do we let go? Do we do our best to ride it?

Are we here to enjoy the ups, downs, and endless turnings of the wheel? Do we just endure, burn up, wear out?

The cycle - Life to Death to Rebirth to Life to Death to Rebirth, etc. 

How to think about the wheel? One of the weighty subjects. Maybe the weightiest of weighty subjects? 

Where do we turn for answers? To Journey?  "Wheel in the Sky keeps on turning..."

Yikes!

Try this...

Try this...

Walk, don't talk. Look, don't buy. Listen, don't speak. 

Don't think. Don't worry. Don't fret. Don't complain.

Eat. Breathe. Sleep. 

Three Snakes at the Door!

As it is said, "walk the mystical path on practical feet." We live in a world of signs and wonders. Be aware, alive, eyes open wide.

So we both noticed the three rubber snakes, (I saw three black snakes, my companion saw three dark green snakes), artfully arranged on the chair, just to the left of the door where we were working; doing good, important work. Two snakes curled and facing in downward direction, the middle snake curled and facing in an upward direction. 

Cheap theatrics? Child's play? A little art installation? Neither of us said a word to the other. Neither of us asked our host, "What's with the snakes?!"

On the way home, we both acknowledged seeing the little serpent display, we concluded it was some kind of conjuring, a spell, a ritualistic act, meant to set the tone, to direct or change the energy.

My companion revealed that she did stand before the little altar of snakes and drew a circle in the air. As for me, I just looked at those little rubber beasts in wonder.  This morning I do a little research on "Serpent symbolism,"  "Now the serpent was more subtle than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made" (Genesis 3:1). 

Think: fertility, regeneration, guardian of the mysteries of birth and rebirth. I suppose we will take it all as a helping hand to our work.

The Herd is Getting Larger & Wider!

It is noticeable. I mean, if you have been around for a decade or two, or more, you notice that your fellow Americans are getting big. Really big. Super-sized.

They super-sized the fast food, and the folks eating that super-sized fast food super-sized too. And some times being super-sized isn't all that good for you. My fellow Americans are fat. Or if that sounds harsh, my fellow Americans are obese.

I mean, you can still go to places in this land where everyone seems slim, happy, beautiful - go to Manhattan, or Silverlake, or the Magnificent Mile, Nashville, Austin and you will see folks who "watch what they eat," and "work on their abs." But go to the heartland, hang out at the mall, drive through the streets of strip malls and franchises, and well, it's pretty obvious, the herd is getting large, and wide.

Rotund.

More food, more calories, less activity. More intake, less burning. You will get fat. For sure. That late, great writer Jim Harrison, once said that the heartland is really the only place where over-eating is considered a heroic act. Almost an Olympic sport. You don't get a medal, but you get pounds, lots and lots of pounds!

"The Light of Consciousness Will Permeate All Aspects of Our Being."

I always have considered myself one of the "Children of the Sun." I always saw myself, on a California beach, with my surfboard, long hair flowing, tanned, happy, carefree, waiting for the next big wave.

I have been to the beach, actually don't like all that sand. I have never surfed, I am sort of a klutz and I'm pretty sure I'd probably damage myself. I do have long hair, but it really doesn't flow. I don't tan. I burn, blister, stroke. Too much sun for me is courting skin cancer. Lately the sun seems so intense, so bright, so hot. I always wear hats, long-sleeved shirts, sunglasses, and lots of sunblock. I'm sometimes happy, once in a while care free. If the next big wave comes, I will watch it from my post in the shade.

Still, I do identify with the "Children of the Sun" - "the person represented by the Sun has become a source of light, embodying the qualities of wisdom and spirituality. S/He is no longer just a mirror, like the Moon which reflects the Sun's light without being able to radiate light or warmth itself. S/He has found the ultimate source of inner light. S/He radiates divine wisdom and love upon the whole world, infusing it with the light of transformation.

Something new and transformational is being ripened in all of human- kind, just as fruit is ripened through a chemical process caused by the Sun's warm rays. The birth of a »New Humanity« requires the completion of a process described in the old alchemical texts. The Phoenix burns, only to arise from the ashes a new, magnificent bird, and fly into the open sky. The light of consciousness will permeate all aspects of our being."

Wrong Gods!

I don't think I will explain the circuitous route my thought-train took to get me to this point. Safe to say, a life of ups and downs, roundabouts, false starts, dead-ends, up in smoke dreams, unexpected losses, dashed hopes. You know, a normal life, well-lived. But anyway, back to the thought-train. Yesterday, this sentence came to me, and I believe it is true. A bred in the bone truth: I have been praying to the wrong Gods!