How, and What, to Be?

I was going to write about the resiliance and frailty of Human Beings. But then I got off on another tangent. You know, thinking about the bane of our existence in 2023: Assholes.

Yes. Thinking about: What exactly is our job on the planet? You know, being a Human Being? How to be? How, and what, to do?

There are all those voices floating in the air, those folks who want to tell you the way of the world. There are  the Teachers, the Wise Ones, the Elders, the Church-types, Pastors, Preachers, Politicians, the Philosphers, the Life Coaches, Friends, Family, your chosen Icons, or maybe your personal Heroes, (although, I think in this day and age having heroes is a quite dicey proposition).

So many folks who want to tell you what's what.

It is not an easy thing. You have to decide what type of Human Being you want to be, and then, your job is to embody and actualize that. It's tricky. You only have one life, unless you believe in Reincarnation, and, I mean, well, wouldn't it be nice, another chance, but, really, who knows?!

But, anyway, you are here now, and it's all basically up to you. Your life is in your hands. You observe other Human Beings doing their thing, and you note that often much of Human activity is a fucking clusterfuck. Bad shite, bad actors, bad action. The Assholes amongst the Human Herd have been amplified and elevated. They dominate in Politics, Business, Pop Culture. They are thriving. It is the Apotheosis of Asshole-ness. Yikes. 

My humble word of advice: Don't Be an Asshole. Yep. That's it. A guidebook. One line. Simple. Clear. Don't be an asshole. That's all I got. But maybe it's everything. A way forward. A code to live by. Think about it. Go forth and multiply (or not), with a bit of grace, and a healthy dollop of humility. Really. That's pretty much it. The whole shebang right there.

Of Course, We Do LIve In a Hellscape. Have a Great Day...

After I wrote yesterday's post, (see previous post), I had two early morning conversations with close friends. One about the on-going, and accelerating, climate catastrophe, and the other about the terrible humanitarian crisis unfolding in the Gaza Strip. My thoughts about my own personal well-being quickly fizzled & faded away. It all felt a bit ridiculous, and unseemly to be talking about, and thinking about, how I was feeling.  I mean, you know, "so what?!"

That's the human dliemma right there. 

We are connected to everything. And, as per Jean Paul Satre, we are also responsible for everything that happens in the human realm. Repsonsible, and on the hook, for even the the things we don't have any control over. That seems like an impossible conundrum and a hard nut to crack.

Yes, indeed, it is. 

Bob Marley once sang: "So much trouble in the world."  Yes. Always. Much of it is our own doing. Humanity's Inhumanity to Humanity is legend. Nature is taking it's revenge for our careless, wasteful, damaging ways. And all life on the planet is under seige. And the powerful, well-armed humans are always beating, pummeling and massacring the weaker humans. So much of human history is the calculated "murder of the innocents." When it comes to war, the majority of the destruction and mayhem is wreaked upon those poor human beings who just happen to be "in the way."

It is a vision of hell. No doubt. How to navigate and deal with that on a day to day basis? Without losing all hope & optimism? How does a caring, thinking, & feeling being deal with the on-going, relentless tragedy in the world, without getting totally disheartened & crushed? 

Beats me. 

I mean, it seems impossible. I think of those "defense mechanisms" that Freud delineated. Sure, our task is to keep our heads in the game, lean to the light, and do the best we can. We need to be totally alive, aware, awake. But we live in a technicolor hellscape too. A globally-interconnected hellscape. How to digest and navigate it all? It's a dilemma, a conundrum, an impossible situation. It's the human thing, writ large. Heaven & Beauty sit side by side with Hell & a Deep in the Bone Mayhem & Ugliness. We tread the path between those extremes every damn day.

Carress the Day...

A matter of degrees: the difference between "feeling," jagged, ragged, faded & jaded, under seige, stressed, over-matched, and not into it, AND instead, happy, relaxed, mellow, clear-headed, well-rested, energized, in the moment, meeting the day with a smile.

My partner and I are lucky we missed the lastest round of Covid Roulette. Being sociable can be super-detrimental to one's health. We find ourselves pretty much Healthy & Happy. An agreeable circumstance. Pure dumb luck. The mysterious workings of luck, a certain kind of fate.

How to explain the good feeling of feeling good? I think it's simple chemistry. The Alchemy of Living. All the elements gathered together, working synergistically. Hard to know what all the "correct" elments are, sometimes small changes have major effects. We embody, and are examples of, the butterfly effect. 

Don't want to jinx it. And don't exactly know how it all happened. But pretty damn "sunny," this morning, even though there is no sun up in the sky, yet. The last week or so has been surprisingly refreshing and renewing. I say: Carress the day and damn the torpedoes!

Navigating the New...

I am playing "musical mansions."  Just checked out of one amazing abode, and checked into another one a couple blocks away. A neighborhood of prodigious weatlh and rolling estates. My life is sort of silly. Not very Shakespearian, much more Becktian. As in Samuel. Waiting for the next shoe to drop. So imagine you are a gypsy. No caravan, just a travel bag, a bicycle, a chromebook, the clothes on your back, extra socks, underwear, t-shirts, jeans, hats, hair-brush, toothbrush, tooth-paste, tea, phone & charger, knick-knacks: headphones, Walkman CD, coffee beans, bean-grinder, a novel by Murakami, two or three handfuls of CDs; albums by Neil Young, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Mogwai, Sigur Ros, Steely Dan, Daft Punk, My Bloody Valentine, Led Zeppelin, The Who, Nick Cave, the Grateful Dead, Warren Zevon, John Martyn.

A lot of shite to lug around. I think of all that baggage as just the bare necessities. My identity is emobodied in that ramshackle inventory of stuff.

So yes, a new mansion. New bed, new coffemaker (Mr. Coffee = one button on/off), a new furry critter and confidante.  Maybe all this new-ness is good for me? Must be aware of everything. These rooms, these stairs, these implements of creation and destruction. Every step counts. Make a routine, break a routine. I am thinking/hoping it keeps me sharp. Navigating the new. 

I am here for a week or so. Living like a priviledged gyspy. Living in surroundings way beyond my means. I am a floater. A temporary worker. A migrant. A marginal character dancing on the margins. I get paid for it all. Being the caretaker. So weird. Not totally disagreeable. Actually pretty agreeable. Not at home, trying to make my temporary surroundings as home-like as possible. Definitely a bit weird. Yes, sort of a silly way to make it. But make it I intend to do.

Space: Outer & Inner...

Up at an ungodly time. Unseasonably mild. Climate-catastrophe is fucking with the seasons. Still dead-dark. A brilliant, shiny-pale-white, very plump, full moon dangling overhead in a westerly sky.  A slight glimmer on the eastern horizon, a ghostly prelude to a coming sunrise which won't be breaking for at least an hour or so. Walking with a little furry critter, my pal. Everything, the lakefront, the rocks, the paths, the stones, the trees & grasses appear otherworldy.

Thinking about "space," not outer space (planets, stars, galaxies etc), but inner space. Suddenly a certain calm center has opened up in my being. A few days of holiday. A few days of decent, restful sleep. A few deeply healing meditations. A few excellent meals. Lots of great music on the box.

Worries, doubts, crazed-obsessive rabbit-hole-searching,  random thought-trains have all vanished. The woes of the world have fallen away. My fellow human beings and their craziness and madnesses no longer seem to have a hold me.

Floating in my own space. The center of my head. Good vibrations. Suddenly my inner landscape is expansive, and expanding. The chemistry is working. There is no excessive needing, wanting, grasping. It is surprising when everything clicks. Meeting the day on my own terms. Very, very copacetic.

I find myself singing a Neil Young lyric while walking in the dark with glimmers of light flashing around me: "I'm too far gone, too far gone, too far gone, to marry you." Singing Neil's song to myself, I realize that is a good sign. Alive in the moment, the always rolling out moment to moment. Self-possesed. On my own, in my own time, kind of seems oddly, uncommonly, perfect.

Olympic-Style Eating. Whew!

Food. 

In the Midwest we are known for Olympic-style eating. Maybe it's the cold weather? The days grow shorter, the temps go lower, we end up putting on multiple layers of clothes, and  the meals, hot, steaming meals start adding up. We begin to resemble those fat, furry, slow-moving squirrels in the backyard. Overstuffed. 

What has lately been on the menu? Pizza. I actually ate a whole 16" pizza (mushroom & onion) in one sitting. It was kind of like a snake eating a whole pig. Yikes. It was not my intention. I have been quite disciplined, eating less, moving more, but confronted with a beautifully contructed pizza I was helpless. As Oscar Wilde once remarked: "I can resist everything, except temptation."  Exactly. It was great, chowing down, a legendary performance. I was so hungry, voracious. It was like I had never eaten before in my life. Even I was shocked.

"Jimmy ate the whole pizza by himself!" 

Yep. And later I ate 4  little pieces of chocolate, they were wrapped up in a delicate little box, sitting inside like exotic, precious jewels. Memorable, delicious, decadent.

The next day we ate at one of our favorite Asian restuarants. A much more delicate performance. Miso soup, broccoli and brown rice, vegetarian sushi. Yes. That was more in line with my philosophy of eating light and super-healthy.

Yesterday, we plunged back into pasta-land. A beautifully-made vegetarian lasagna. I was on a short leash. My partner was monitoring my performance. Three servings max. We saved the leftovers for another day. Whew. As per William Blake:  “You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.” Yikes! That is a tricky saying and a slippery slope. Maybe not the best way forward? Could lead to lots of misadventure and mischief.

This morning, back to a much more Spartan type approach to food. You know, maybe less is more? It's all a balancing act. Food is medicine, food is fuel. Food keeps us going. And variety is the spice of life. Right?! Whatever keeps us going, keeps us in the game. It is important to be light on our feet, always be moving. Patience. Discipline. Clear-headed.  Focused. We truly are what we eat. Eating smart, smartly. That's the way to do it.

Brilliant Works of Others...

We turn to "Art." 

If my partner and I have a tribe it is made up of Human Beings who "create." It is a large, sprawling, rough and tumble tribe; a wildly diverse collection of beings: inspirers all, Human Beings from all realms, all kinds, all classes. Beings who pour the best of themselves into the "good work."

Yesterday, we didn't do any creating ourselves, like hungry vampires, we fed on the brilliant works of others.

We had a bit of space, and we filled it with reading books: she is reading Prophet, and I am reading Norwegian Wood. There is something so healing and wonderful about plunging into other worlds and times. Cracks open the head, fills the heart, expands the soul.

We also listened to these extraordinary albums on the CD player:

"Kveikur" (2013) from Sigur Ros

"The Köln Concert"  (1976) from Keith Jarret

"Pastel Blues" (1965) from Nina Simone

"Tucaloosa" (released 2019, recorded 1973) from Neil Young & The Stray Gators

The music washed over us, healed us with it's amazing, soul-enriching, vibrations. Engages the head, the heart, the soul.

We also went to the movie theater to see an amazing film, "Poor Things." Vivid, beautiful, wild, funny, eye-opening, head-spinning, completely wonderful. Every frame of the film is suffused with a startling uncommon energy & intelligence. Thrilling and thought-provoking. Refreshing.

Yes. Hanging out with our tribe. It was a healing, a baptism, a renewal, and a total recharge.  It felt like a soulful welcome back to the core of our creative roots. A certain kind of creative homecoming. These Human Beings and their very inspiring works: "Our kind!" Works of art, art-making. The best of us. Humanity in the mode of creation and inspiration. The good work, writ large.

The Essential Tool-Kit...

Sigmund Freud. The Sugar Daddy of Psychology. Maybe not so favored anymore. Psychology has been swamped over by the scientific method &  Pharmacology.  You know, it's about all the Drugs, now, man. But I always thought Freud was a damn good storyteller, and super-on-target on what makes Human Beings tick. Maybe his method was more "art" than "science," but maybe "art" is a worthy frame, useful for basic understanding of the Human Condition?

After a day of spending lots of time  in close proximity with a variety of Human Beings, an up close and personal deep-lesson in both Normal and Abnormal Psychology, I think of Freud and his concept of Defense Mechanisms. Oh baby, this is the Motherlode of Human behaviour. The hidden key that unlocks the treasure of Humanity's flaws and features. At least, that's how it resonates with me.

These are like the Ten Commandments of Human Psychology and the defensive tactics for keeping oneself from going over the edge. Of course, they are all double-edged swords, taken to the extreme, they actually hasten one's plunge into the deep abyss of dysfunction and madness. They should be carved into tablets and carted down the mountain for all to gaze and wonder at. Be aware, and beware...

Projection, Denial, Repression, Rationalization, Displacement, Reaction Formation, Sublimation, Intellectualization, Compartmentalism.

All of these methods of survival were on display yesterday. Yes. Indeed. These 10 methods are pretty much the Swiss army knife of defenses in our basic & essential tool-kit. Yes. We are all so damn Freudian.

Sanctuary Days...

Gravitate to the poetic, to the beautiful, to the harmonic, to the graceful, to the wonder. 

My partner and I are always doing our best to lean to the light. We are into that idea of  "alive, aware, awake," but it also has it's downside. We are both very, very sensitve. Maybe too sensitive; we are overly-excitable, wildly-variable, easily-animated, we are often totally lit, and on fire. We are often rocking and reeling from the vibrations of everything that surrounds us. Maybe we are not unique, but we both feel pretty strongly that we are not exactly like other folks. We aren't putting on airs, we aren't pretending we have anyting over anyone else. This super-hyper-sensitivity actually seems like a flaw, a fly in the oinment of our personal makeup. We are often diffcult, gnarly, "needing special attention." 

We have built a home, and a life, all about finding sanctuary, finding shelter from the storms of the day to day. Those stacks of books on every shelf, those vinyl records, and those rows & rows of CDs in the kitchen and living room are little bricks of protection. We fill our hearts and heads with other worlds, other sounds, vibrations and ideas from writers, poets, playwrights, musicians and songwriters from around the world. They are the models, inspirers, creatives who open doors and windows to alternate ways of being, seeing and interpreting the world.

We are both long-time meditators. It's a way of grounding ourselves. Learning to retreat to the center of our heads, to find a place of calm and clarity, submerging deep down in our beings. It's an on-going process. It's a protective strategy, for sure.

We are both very private people. We project out into the world via our music and our band, but even this activity is a bit of a protective pose. We let our "art" speak for us. We bring folks together to bathe in the vibrations of the music. We actually try to disappear in the making of the work. It's just another way of sublimating our deep senstivity and trying to create something stronger, more resilient and hopefully, enlightening. When it all flies, it represents the best of us.

Anyway. We have a few days of breaking a routine. No appointments. We will do only what we want to do when we want to do it. Lots of time pointed inward. A postive, healing motion. Holidays. Holy Days. Sanctuary Days.

Questions. No Answers. Certain of Nothing...

I had a nice conversation yesterday with a dear and beloved confidante & friend who had read my last post (see previous post), and who thought I was a bit off-target. I listened, and learned. What did I learn? I am certain of nothing.

I was left with questions, many head-scratching questions. A blzzard of questions. It sent me reeling, but you know, it's sort of an agreeable state for me. Sometimes the best conversations are the ones that leave you with a million unanswerable questions. It really was that kind of conversation.

What questions? For instance: 

Maybe "the people" aren't really all that intelligent?  Maybe all this hope for the human herd is just naive?

Maybe human beings are basically selfish, greedy, small-minded, blinded by their ignorance? Maybe it is the rare, good find when someone emerges out of that realtiy with a bit of goodness and clarity on display, but for sure buddy, don't count on it?

Maybe stupidity and ignorance truly do run rampant thru the human herd? (For evidence of such a damning generality please refer to the long, crooked path of the History of Humanity).

Maybe common sense & the common good are overrated, and just fancy misunderstandings?

Maybe this idea of a "shared reality," is a chimera, a ghost, an illusion?

Maybe we are all stuck in our own heads, and what see & hear in the Universe all around us is really just projections of our own inner states?

Maybe life is just a hall of mirrors?

Maybe we really all have no fuckng clue?

Maybe questioning the fundamental nature of our existence is the first step to a certain intelligence, but it's also a gnarly road, a slippery slope, with no clear anwsers?

Maybe I should just get on with living and forget all this navel-gazing?

Maybe all this chatter about fixing the world, or saving the world, is just a way of flattering ourselves?

Yikes. What's a Humble Pilgrim to do? Back to base this morning. 

Sipping a great coffee brew, typing into the void. Leaning to the light. Thinking: Damn the Torpedoes, and Rock & Roll.  I mean fuck it. Let it  All Come Down, Baby. Live life to the fullest, and let the chips fall where they may. And those other folks, the ones who are unfathomable to me? Live and let live. Hope we out-number, out hustle, out-work and out-vote them.

I mean, sure, a change of conciousness can happen in an instant, like a lightening bolt out of the blue, but all you can really do is try to save yourself,  aspire to a life of alive, aware, awake, and hope others do the same. Amen Brothers & Sisters. Amen.

Hard Limits on the Human Highway...

Ha. A bit eye & head opening. Turns out human beings really are capable of anything, for the good, and for the bad. Humans easily reach the heights of glory, and the depths of depravity.

It is safe to say that human beings are pretty limited. Stuck in the middle of being human. Being human makes it hard for us to see our own flaws, but of course, we basically live those flaws out in the world and take them to term every damn day. 

If you put on glasses of clarity, do a bit of clear-seeing, it is so much easier to see the flaws of others, it is obvious that the hard limits of humanity are on technicolor display in every human realm. I guess it's a bit surprising just how badly much of humanity performs. There are the limits of reason, the limits of sanity, the limits of clear thinking, the limits of love, and good intention, etc. Yes. Hard limits.

Lately the stupidity, the bad-faith arguments, the clearly flawed thinking, the selfishness, the greed, the paranoia, the weird-everything-is-a conspiracy madness, the hate, the outlandish lies, both big and small, are flooding thru the human highway. It doesn't take a brainiac to see the willful and woeful swamp of idiocy, that humans love to wallow in. Strikingly weird.

One extreme example: There is a guy out on the hustings, talking like Hitler, and Americans are rushing to support & defend him. Oh yeah, and it just so happens to be the same guy who wanted to use violence to keep his job.  A job he was ceremoniously booted from, after a sizable majority of Americans freely and fairly decided he was done. In the ensuing months and years; temper tantrums, outlandish lies, whiny and blubbering double-speak, threats of revenge, retribution and violence. What the fuck, people, how do we tolerate such complete shite? We must do better.

It's pretty weird, and strange, and tiring. One hopes for a bit of clarity, humility, common sense. A grounding. We are those complicated, contradictory, tricky monkeys, but you know we just aren't as clever and together, as we pretend to be.

Cling to No Thing...

As a long-time meditator I find this Sean Illing conversation about "Mindfulness," super-important, and in the moment relevant. As it has been said, "The life you save may be your own." Yes. Indeed.

Sure. I have meditated for many years, it doesn't make me an expert. I swim towards mindfulness, but I don't always get there. Or, you know, even mindfulness just descends upon us, and evaporates from us too, in an instant. Just like pretty much everything else, it's a process, a practice, an intention to be aware, alive, awake. This idea of "falling awake!"

"Actually, it’s the one human activity that you engage in for no purpose. Not for some kind of contrived goal that you want to attain and then you’ll be happy or whatever. This is a practice for falling awake, so that you actually are living the life that’s yours to live in the only moment that you ever have to live it, which we don’t usually realize is this one now."

AND

"The Buddha is famous for having said his 45 years of teaching could be encapsulated in one sentence. And I like to say to people, “Well, on the off chance that that’s true, maybe we should memorize the sentence.” Here it is: “Nothing is to be clung to.” The operative verb being clinging, self-identifying, as I, me, and mine." - Jon Kabat-Zinn

Right. Cling to nothing. Cling to no thing. Absolutely no clinging.

Easy, right?! 

Sure, as I cling to my self, this coffee cup, that acoustic guitar, these daily routines, those beautiful people, these sunny thoughts, those crazy dreams and plans, these deep-seated worries too. 

My own personal earth-shaking epiphany that happened to envelope me during one deep meditation? A plain morning, a powerful, all-consuming, hard to convey, insight and feeling: Connected to all. Intimately, mysteriously, connected to everything in the Universe. Heady. Profound. Glimmering. Shimmering. Glancing. Ephemeral.

Sure. That  was a life-changing meditation. It wasn't an intellectual idea, or a fleeting feeling, it was a profound, indelible experience. It has animated me ever since. Connected to everything. Truly a beautiful reality.

Yes. Mindfulness. The way of the Buddha: a practice, a process, a path.

Floating on the Ground...

On the other hand (see previous post), maybe we can just float? Sure there are folks with more, folks with less, folks with everything, folks with nothing, "Some are born to sweet delight, some are born to endless night." - Wm. Blake. We just have to deal with the deal we have been dealt. No sense worrying about how others are making it, or not making it. I mean, sure, have empathy for the humans. Support the idea that we are in this together, and support efforts, governmental and otherwise, to help those in need. Our task is to make it the best we can. So, yes, floating, not clinging. Float, but also keep your feet on the ground. Ok. I know. That's a bit contradictory. So be it.

Horrorshow on Public Trans...

Yes. Our adventures on Chicago Public Trans continues. We have long used the rails, and the buses too. It's a great way to navigate the City. No doubt. We are long-haulers. Don't own a car. So public trans is pretty essential.

But something drastically bad has happened. I think it might be a post-Covid phenomena. As my friend put it: "The people have fallen off." Yes. It's true. We had another werid, torturous experience on the train, it's now a frequent, pretty much every time kind of thing. Sort of excruciating.

Witnessing the unraveling of Human Beings: there is pain and sorrow in the watching, but also a visceral horror too. Folks who have fallen so far from making it. This time a very edgy, gnarly man started into a crazy monologue, something about being a "85% to 95% Virgin."  Wow. I guess it's hard to be precise in the measuring? I didn't know it was a variable state. He also wanted everyone on the train-car to know that he didn't "rape anyone," especially no one "underage." A long rambling loop, a torrent of words, a very sick, deranged performance. It sounded like a torturous confession in reverse.

A broken brain. A damaged soul. A human being totally unwound, seemingly capable of pretty much anything. There was a palpable sense of danger, like bolts of electricity zinging and zapping in the air of the car. A fleeting shattering thought floated thru our heads: "Hope he isn't armed." We all  are very aware that tragedy is often just being in the wrong place, at the wrong time.  This all felt very, very wrong. The words of his rant poured out in an agressive, panicky, persistent, whiny and threatening voice, a voice of anger and pain. This man delivered it all right in front of us. An intimate private horrorshow. We did our best to not react. We exchanged glances, felt like we could read each other's minds, we told ourselves: "Be still, let's hope the storm passes."  At a stop we jumped up, fled that car, and re-entered another car down the line.

Funny. On that car a long, thin, deranged & dark figure was pacing up down the aisle. Everyone was doing their best not to see him. A specter, a ghost, a druggie burn-out, not so much a human being as a stick-figure zombie, who knows, maybe it was meth, or crack, or some other terrible substance that was animating this  hollow husk of a person? He too was rambling, chattering, making not quite human sounds. Sad, pathetic, a bit scary. We held on tight to the straps hanging overhead and counted down the stops until we could leave this rolling hellscape of human wreckage behind. Yikes.

Yes. "The people have fallen off." Seemingly untold numbers of them. It's truly a thing. Sad, but true. You know in America we don't talk about class very often. We live with this illusion that we can float across any class, but it's probably not true. Class is just a reality, the aquarium we all swim in. Some of us are born into it, locked in deep; some in luxury, some in plenty, and too much, some in barely enough, too little, just getting by, some in ugly squalor, so little, a life of scraping and lacking, and then some of us are just beyond it all, in total free-fall. There are the haves, the have nots, and the seriously lost and deeply warped & broken ones. Seems they all converge on public trans.  Eye-opening, and sadly horrifying too.

The Power and Glory of Yes, and No...

Another day of walking in my own shoes. 

You know, one's personal experience is just so damn personal, so much our own. We are born in a particular time and place. What is alive and real in our hearts and heads seems so deeply us. Unlike anyone else. As Tom Petty once sang, "No one knows what it's like... to be me." Maybe that sounds a bit egotistical or self-centered, and maybe it is, but you know, it's also true. We are all on our own singular roads, experiencing life in our own way. We made an entrance somewhere along the way, and will make an exit all on our own time and terms. You know the terms dictated by our particular genetic heritage, by luck, pluck, & the unfathomable, madly-varying, hurly-burly and circumstance of living a life. Sure there are resonances with others, we are uniquely us, but we are also not so unique, just very human beings, so very similiar to everyone else. It's a weird conundrum. We are truly, madly, deeply uniquely us, but we are not so uniquely us that we don't truly, madly, deeply and uniquely resemble pretty much every other human being on the planet. 

Alive, aware, awake. I find myself pinballing from two modes, one, the affirmative way, and the other, the negative way, the first learned from Improv: "Yes, and..." and the second learned from the hard lessons of too much "Yessing." That would be the bodly negative: "No. No fucking way. Not gonna do it." You have to choose wisely dear Pilgrim. Yes and No. They both have their rewards and downsides. Those anwsers can be tremendously liberating, but also quite enslaving. One person's fun-time, can be your hell-time. One person's super-food, can be your kryptonite. You must always remember who's shoes you are walking in. No one else can get in them with you. You have to do the walking on your own, even if you are walking hand in hand with another human being,  two beings, being human. Together and Alone. Always.

Mighty Frauds = Rude Awakening...

There is a decidedly American type. The Confidence Man. The Clown. The Flim-Flam Man. The Fraud. The Scoundrel. The Glad-Handing-Bible-Thumper. Or the Flag-Waving-Constitution-Cllinging-Dick-Wagging-Wanna-Be-Authoritarian. 

There are two super-sized examples of this type that have dominated a certain segment of our gutter politics and who have saturated our media landscape with their toxic nonsense, famous New Yorkers: Trump, (Rick Wilson's "Everything that Trump Touches Dies!"), and Guiliani (Hand in his pants, black dye streaming down his face, swaggering-drunken-Mussolini Wanna Be).

Media Creations. False Idols. Fake Tough Guys. They both rose so high, well beyond their sell-dates. And lately they have been in a slow-motion, perpetual free fall. Satisfyingly, I predict we will finally see both of these bilious dirigbles, implode, no explode, in dramatically, technicolor fashion.

Rudy was just saddled with a $148 million Defamation Judgment. Easy to say: Couldn't happen to a more deserving guy. Let's celebrate for a moment. Turns out spreading idiotic lies, trying to hustle a country out of a free and fair election, has fucking consequences. Yes. Sometimes gravity does exist. Common sense, common decency, can come to the fore. Truth rules. The fraud is exposed, weighty consequences can come down like a ton of bricks. 

My easy, off the cuff response? Yay!

"Chickens coming home to roost."  Ha, ha, ha. Let it come down.  I expect more, most excellent fireworks in the next few months. You do not want to be either one of those oh so rudely-trumpy, toxic clowns. Mighty Frauds coming to Rude Awakenings. Karma, Baby!

A Self Contained Cool...

The people. Talk to the people and you quickly discover many of them are just total downers. You know, it is sort of understandable, the news is generally not good. Lots of major stories with harrowing details, bad outcomes, tragic consequences. 

Also, anyone paying attention can plainly see and hear that we all are daily being pummeled, and inundated, with total shite. The bad actors, yes, the evil-doers are busy doing evil, filling our heads with disinformation, lies, innuendo, and crazy-ass conspiracy theories. It is so easy to succumb to fear, doubt, worry, cynicism. Almost makes one want to just throw up your hands and beg for mercy.

What's a humble pilgrim to do? 

I say, be recalcitrant, be contrary, show a little gumption and discipline, take the postive, optimistic path. You can just resist engaging with those thorny, hard to fathom, basically unanswerable questions. I say, just take a pass. Deflect and deflate at all times. 

You can fall back on sentences like: Well, no one  really knows. We shall see. Maybe it's not as bad as it looks. The future is unwritten. 

Bad vibes? Worries about the present and future? 

I say, fuck it, keep your head. Point out that there are plenty of people trying to do their best. Folks doing the good work in the face of darkness & adversity. Folks keeping calm and carrying on. I mean, match that picture of fatalistic bleakness with an exuberant Hope, Joy, Humor, and a certain self-contained cool. Be aware it might not go over well. The doom-sayers really want to wallow in their pools of doom. But you know, you don't have to join them. Damn the torpedoes.

Changing My Life, Again!

I have lately turned to oatmeal. My thinking: if it was good enough for Secretariat, it is good enough for me. Just like that, I given up my love affair with bagels and English muffins, which I was totally mad about for a time, and I have completely truly, madly, deeply, embraced oatmeal.

I know. Sounds silly.

Yes. I can say that now it is oatmeal that has changed my life. It's funny, discovering things that change my life happens quite often. I mean it happens so often, it is a running joke around here. Turns out this old dog can learn new tricks. I am often trying new things on for size. So, yeah, modifiying my morning routine with a bowl of oatmeal is a new thing. To me it seems sort of earth-shaking, an amazing discovery. Oatmeal. Easy to make, easy to eat. Good for you. You know, nothing fancy. Basic. Simple. Plain. Changing my life one bowl, one spoonful, at a time! 

Hit Bottom, Now Renewed...

Unexpectantly hit bottom yesterday. Bad karma? Strange Juju? Sometimes you just don't have your MOJO working. Yes. I had little bit of a spin-out. Maybe the wrong chemistry? My body was sending me a message. "Get back to base." I carried on anyway, making all my appointed rounds, putting on the mask of "everything is totally fine."

It really wasn't, but, you know,  what's a humble pilgrim to do? "Fake it to make it." So, I did.  

What remedies, notions and potions did I reach for? Black tea. Steaming mugs of warm soothing water. A sweet potato. A chocolate bar. A delicious oatmilk hot chocolate. Miso soup! These were rare, uncommon, almost magical substances.

The day was cold, but very, very clear. Pure, righteous clarity. Funny I hit upon a state of exuberance mid-day. Maybe hitting bottom is necessary? Maybe it is the first step to a cleansing and a re-boot? Who knows? 

This morning I am sipping cups of coffee with oatmilk, alternating with steaming cups of black tea. Listening to music. Two fabulous records, Miles Davis' "Kind of Blue," (1959), one of my all-time favorite albums, any genre, and my recently discovered Neil Young album, "Songs for Judy," (2018) raw, thrilling acoustic gems from Neil's 1976 tour. Do I think listening to great music is important? Soul-enriching? Heart-expanding? Consciousness-raising? And healing? Yes. Indeed. I do. You know, it's the vibes, man, washing over, and into, the core of your being. Essential, excellent, otherworldly medicine.

Yes. The tea is essential too, the coffee too, the oatmilk, and yes for sure the music. Art, good art enriches us all. This morning a certain strange euphoria has grabbed me by the t-shirt. Right now I am typing into the void, in the very early hours of a another new day. It is still dead-dark out there, the sun won't make an appearance for a few hours. Still, feeling totally renewed. Yes. Indeed. Sort of funny how it all works out one way or another. A bit of a strange, and you know, wonderful mystery. 

The Lies of a Coward...

This post from Rick Wilson is just so good and eye-opening. Of course, it's so obvious, it has been staring us in the face all these many years. We have lived under a tsunami of lies.  Big lies, little lies, ridiculous, head-spinning lies. We have been swamped, overwhelmed with a whirling dynamo of lying. It is the unending, black-hole pit of Endless Lying = The Lies of a Complete Coward. Trump's constant, over the top, relentless lying isn't a sign of strength, it is not a super-power, it is pure unmitigaged cowardice. Cowardice on steriods. He is a man truly, madly, deeply afraid of the truth.

"He lies because he’s afraid of the truth. The truth of his smallness. The truth that he was never a real billionaire. The truth that his ongoing criminal enterprise disguised as a real estate development firm is one concatenating series of scams, grifts, tax frauds, flim-flams, foreign influence schemes, and long cons.

He’s afraid of you knowing the truth of his intellectual shortcomings. (He can barely read.) The truth about his weight and his health. (275 on the low end.) The truth about his vulgar taste. The truth of his accidental victory in 2016. The truth of his weirdness, his unsexy history of paying for sex, his shit-tier parenting, and how many times he’s failed in business and life.

Autocratic bullies and braggarts need an unending string of victories, a potent and positive image protected by a bodyguard of lies and deceptions. Why? Because they’re deeply, profoundly afraid of the people they rule." - Rick Wilson

Simplicity, Honesty, Clarity...

Simplicity. Honesty. Clarity. You know, simplify your thoughts & actions, and be honest with yourself and others. Thinking & doing what you say you will do, without hesitation. Clarity. Clear thinking, clear seeing, clear doing. Maybe it takes a bit of concentrated discipline? I think it is worth it. We found ourselves out in the cold last night doing a simple task, backing up our words with deliberate action. Yes, it was just a minor schlep, but a good & necessary thing. No sense in worrying or arguing about it. There was a clarity in the darkness, a clarity in the doing. There is something enriching to the soul; doing an honest task to the best of your ability. A small thing. A simple thing. Everything.

Playing Forward to Go Back...

Songwriting session. 

Sometimes you are just trying to catch the butterfly.  You want to catch it, but you don't want to harm it, or squelch it, or hold onto it too tight. You need to be gentle, you need to be relaxed, you need to not be trying too hard, trying not to chase. I find it's best if I accidentally stumble into a song.  I try to short-circuit my conscious mind, and tap into the vast unconscious stream. It works best for me if songs come as an accident, a gift , a surprise. Yesterday my partner had all the lyrics, I had a few riffs and chord sequences up my sleeve, that I have been playing with over the last few weeks. We sat on a comfy leather couch in our rehearsal room, totally unplugged. My acoustic guitar, my partner with a classic bodhran. We tried out various approaches. I did some finger-picking, alternate picking, hybrid picking, vigorous strumming, played with different tempos, weird time-changes. We ran thru a few parts trying to marry words and chords naturally, organically. It's all vibe and feel. When we felt we had come close to the heart of it, we turned on our little digital recorder. Best to capture the moment, turns out the best parts are always so fleeting and ephemeral. The defining character of a song is often found in the pauses, the silences, in a particular up-stroke, down-stroke, or oddly-weird strum. My partner's voice floated in the air; ethereal, gentle, wonderful. We worked, meaning we played, for nearly two hours. Time evaporated. We were in the moment, the expanding moment. We walked out with a 5 minute recording. Pretty sure it is the song. The song that really wanted to materialize before our eyes and ears. It was exciting, grafiying. It's always a surprise too. The song seems old, so, so old world, ancient; another time and place. That has been where we have been going with our songs. The lyrics point to the mystery, the beauty, the grandeur of our natural world. Yes. And the mururation of starlings.  All sadly vanishing and imperiled by the careless, life-nullifying ways of Human Beings. How tragic, that it is human beings who emerged directly from nature, who rely on the interconnected web of life to survive, are now destroying it all at an accellerating rate.  Anyway, heady stuff for a song, hopefully delivered in the most poetic and exciting way we can conjure up. We are playing forward to go back to another time and place. To my ears it all sounds very Druidic and Celtic, a sort of a Celtic blues alive in a Pagan world, the  woruld ruled by The White Goddess. Handmade, homemade. Other.

The Ideal Picture Comes into Focus...

Making it, faking it. Faking it to make it. 

Sometimes you feel like you are falling apart. You know, you are tired, and a bit brittle, and you seem sort of shaky. You are doing your best to hold it all together. You put on a "false front," in order to face the day. It's sort of like putting on the right sweater, the right pair of boots, the right hat for the elements. You are living up to a certain ideal that you have in your head, a picture of being happy, healthy, easy-going and free. That is the image you want to project into the world. So yeah, that's the mode. And you know what? As you go thru the motions of the day, that ideal picture comes into deep focus and sort of becomes true. That feeling of falling apart vanishes. You realize you are happy, healthy, easy-going and free. You make it. In the evening, you and your partner watch a fabulous, hilarious, super-intelligent, beautifully-filmed movie, "The Favorite," (2018) with a perfect cast of characters, actors performing at the height of their powers, and the best performances are from these incredible women. And it just works it's magic upon you both. And then, you put your headphones on to listen to a great album, "Gaucho" (1980) by Steely Dan, and when that finishes you put your head on the pillow and sleep like a baby. All your dreams are good. You make your connections, you excell at every task. Everything works out. Amazing. You wake up alive, refreshed. That's the power of living, the power of art, the power of paying attention. Yep. That's how to do it.

Treasures in the Used CD Racks...

I had a few extra bucks burning a hole in the pocket of my Levis. I stopped into one of my favorite local record stores. They have used CD section, pristine copies of new and old CDs for $5. It's always a kick to rummage thru the racks and see if I can find a treasure.

Yesterday, I scored 3 treasures. 

Neil Young's "Songs For Judy," solo acoustic songs recorded on a cheap cassette player in 1976. Raw. Beautiful. Thrilling. Neil was supposedly often fortified with Tequila and Coke at these concerts. Just fantastic singing and playing with an edge with some rare songs never offically recorded and released. There are couple really funny monologues. The ghost of Judy Garland speaks to Neil.

Also nabbed a pristine copy of The Pogues, "Rum, Sodomy the Lash." (1985) Shane Macgowan and the boys at their finest. Rambling, shambling. Funny. Poetic. Produced by Elvis Costello. Fabulous. Essential. 

And Stereolab's "Margerine Eclipse," (2004) - kicky fun. A feast for the ears. A great trip with a good pair of headphones. The band said it was recorded as "dual mono." What does that mean?

"Margerine Eclipse was mixed with full stereo separation – or as Stereolab termed it, in "dual mono".[21] For every song, the band made two recordings – each with a different arrangement – then created a final mix by synchronising both recordings together, with one on the left channel and the other on the right channel."

The results are pretty amazing.

Cheap entertainment. Plus soulful, thrilling and inspiring music. Love.

Ridiculous and Frankly Dangerous...

A close friend turned me on to this story: American Evangelicals and Political Extremism. One of the weirdest, most confounding, strange, ridiculous and frankly dangerous of political phenomenas.

When I think "trump," I think: idiot, liar, conman, rapist, creep, authoritarian, racist. Bad. 

When white, American, christian-nationlist, Evangelicals think "trump," they think: idiot, liar, conman, rapist, creep, authoritarian, racist, jesus, moses, david. Good.

Hard to get your head around, for sure. I suppose we can try explain it to ourselves by pointing out that those white, christian-nationalist, evangelicals seem to hate the same people that trump hates. trump seems to hate anyone who doesn't kiss his ass. And it turns out that many, many people just love to kiss trump's ass; senators, house representatives, and of course, the MAGA hordes.

So, yes, strange bedfellows, bonded by hatred.

Scary. Creepy. Irrational. A little insane. That is a toxic combination. Super-dangerous too for our delicate and precious Democracy.

We Shall See...

Good Lord. Yesterday a nasty subject came up in our household. What subject? The Future. My good friend put me on the thought-train of the future, our future, my future.

I realized this was not a subject I usually entertain. Mainly because I don't find it entertaining. I never think about the future. Or, I mean, I never or, rarely, think about my future. I spend nearly every moment of every day living, thinking, breathing in the ever-expanding present moment. I just have very little room inside my own head for a imagined, or projected future. Plus, I think most of the talk of the future is really just projecting the present forward, projecting our hopes, fears, little madnesses onto a imagined, fabricated picture. Like I said, not really enteraining, or enlightening.

Is this dismissive attitude towards the future a good way to live? Beats me. It's just so me. It is my practiced tendency to put on a complete, all consuming profile of being ZEN. I don't always get there, but it is one of my go-to modes. So, I pretty much stepped out of the conversation instantaneously when I realized we were onto the future. I just didn't want to go there.

Ask me one of those ridiculous questions folks like to ask when you are interviewing for a job: "Where do you see yourself in 5 years?" My answer (not the silly b.s. I would come up with in an interview): "I don't. Really. I don't see myself in 5 years. Maybe I make it, maybe I don't. Whatever."

Yeah. Never said that in an interview, but it was what was floating in my head, left unsaid. I think of that Joe Strummer line: "The Future is Unwritten." That's more like it. That seems like a window, a doorway, a crack in the fabric of the Universe. Yep. "Wonder what's gonna happen next?" We shall see...

Republicans: The Party of Liars, Cowards & Hypocrites...

I have to say it is quite surprisng & strangely gratifying, to see, and hear, that Dick (Darth Vader) Cheney's daughter has become the most powerful, insistent, pull-no-punches voice on the right; the great conservative, in-the-moment-truth-teller opining about our precarious & very dicey, political environment. 

Of course, Liz Cheney was the leading voice on the January 6 Committee, she lost her Congressional seat in Wyoming because of her bold truth-telling, and she has eloquently made the case that our Democracy is in grave peril. She was courageous enough to tell the truth, even if it meant that she would lose her position of power and influence. That is extraordinary in this day and age of unbridled groveling & desperate clinging to power at all costs.

LIZ CHENEY: "I think that the Republican Party as it exists today is dangerous to the country. And I think the most important thing to do now, without question, is to make sure we stop Donald Trump. What American politics looks like after that, what the Republican Party or a new Republican Party or a new conservative party looks like after that remains to be seen."

All of this totally rings so obviously true.  "Liars, Cowards and Hypocrites." That is the Republican Brand in the age of MAGA.

LELA FADEL of NPR sums up Cheney's new book: "... she does not hold back in this book. And she said she wants Americans to know everything that happened in Congress and in her party that led to what she calls a terrorist attack on the Capitol. And she names names - describing former House Speaker Kevin McCarthy as a hypocrite, a coward and a liar who told her Trump acknowledged that he knew he lost the election, only to then repeat Trump's lie on television. She depicts the current speaker, Mike Johnson, as a dangerous anti-constitutionalist And she says she wants people to know every detail of what happened in her party and in Congress and how many of her former colleagues, she says, betrayed their oath."

Yes. Indeed. It is so refreshing to hear the truth injected plainly & forcefully into the political discourse. And to hear it from a long-time Republican insider is so very necessary. 

Living in the Poetry of Life...

Living in a world of signs and wonders. Living in a world of poetry, of symbol, of metaphor; a world of magic where everything points to, and resembles, something else. It's a trick of the mind; a certain approach, a certain attitude, a certain method for perceiving everything we call the world. Yes, swimming in the poetry, navigating a world of mystery & wonder, interpreting the signs, the symbols, tuning in & resonating moment to moment. 

Lost in Sub Bass...

It is funny. The more you listen, the more you hear. It's not just an experience, it may also be a philosophy and a way forward. You can take that simple lesson and apply it across the spectrum of living and being. The more attention to detail, the more detailed the listening, the more detailed the living, the more detailed your life experience becomes. It's a double-edged sword.

Living a life filled with rich detail; a very good I thing, indeed. 

Of course, it can get a bit extreme & obessive. It is easy to get swamped and lost in the midst of an ever-expanding Universe of details. We have been submerged in soundwaves and in listening to musical tracks for a long, sustained time, months & months over the last year. There is a purpose: create a beautiful, amazing, rich and powerful work of art. I mean, at least that is the goal.

We have been working with two mixing engineers, which has complicated things. Two different styles. It's all an art, with a little bit of science mixed in too. We are working on making these two approaches work seamlessly on a cohesive album. 

Details, details, details.

Lately we have been grappling with sub bass. What originally sounded like a fabulous hefty bass sound, anchoring one of what we were hearing as a standout track, turns out to be an unwiedly, messy, & annoying sonic wave that sort of dominates and kills the song.

It took many listens on many different devices, in many different listening rooms, to pin this down. We sat with the engineer and adjusted the sub bass. Suddenly the track opened up and sounded better than ever. A small change can have major efffects.  Yes, getting lost in sub bass. That was a new experience. Close listening: the more you listen, the more you hear. And small changes can have major ramifications. 

It's a process, a journey, a singular road towards some kind of nebulous ideal. We are getting there. So close. Maybe. Lost in a sea of details. A well-tempered Life.

You Do Not Want to Go Down that Road...

We bumped up against one of those doom-sayers yesterday. Someone who is stuck on the bleak-side of things. A pro. An accomplished, and quite successful, Human.  A person who knows his shite, but who has descended into the hell of his own mind;  a hall of mirrors of unhappiness, a man seemingly out of time. Maybe his accomplishments have sort imprisoned him in a reality that no longer exists? Maybe it happens to many? Seems that as the decades unfurl, the accumulation of experiences can sort of handcuff and blind you to the reality of the present?

It seems the years can make some folks bitter, fearful, super-aware that they are out of step, lost in the past. 

Hard to say, hard to see. We were locked in a room with this guy, and he flailed and railed. We were there for a very specific task. We just needed to get a few things done. We walked in trying to cultivate an attitude of graceful neutrality. Tempers flared, it all got a bit heated. 

Funny. My attitude of Zen easily melted in the face of a smouldering-hostility. I pushed back pretty hard. There was a blistering, buzzy, tension in the air. My partner and were sitting side by side, she texted me: "Don't have a heart attach."  It was an iPhone autocorrect miscue, she meant, "attack," but you know, from now on this will be known as the "Heart Attach Session." There was a moment where it seemed it could all blow up and get really nasty. 

Tick, tick, tick.

The moment of fury passed. Cooler heads prevailed. And then we got down to the task at hand. We did accomplish what we wanted to accomplish. After a couple hours we walked out thinking: "what a so very unhappy Human Being." 

What was that all about? I chalk it up to ego, grievance, a certain arrogance, and fear. Yes. Fear of change, fear of the moment, fear that life is rolling on, fear of losing control. And that fear feeds a bitter disappointment, and a wide-ranging hostility to the present.

Hell, that was instructive. It is much easier to see the flaws in someone else. Much harder to look into your own soul. It was an awesome demonstration of a deeply unsatisfied mind. You do not want to go down that road. 

Instead: Alive. Aware. Awake. Open headed, open hearted, eyes wide open too. Be here now. Meeting the moment to moment. The better way forward. Onto the next thing. Yes.

A Thorny Conundrum...

Objective vs Subjective: "The basic difference between objective and subjective information is that objective information is based on facts, while subjective information, or a subjective perspective, is based on opinion, emotion, or feelings." 

A thorny conundrum. 

Of course Human Beings are subjective instruments, navigating an objective Universe. Human Beings are also objects in that Universe. Much of our pain & suffering, and misunderstanding seems to come from the clash of objective vs. subjective.

It's up to us to see, hear, feel; to discover facts, and to interpret those facts as best we can. As William Blake once wrote: "We are prisoners of our senses five." Math & Physics are awesome tools that appear to be really good at interpreting and predicting how the Universe acts.

But maybe it is poetry, theater, music, that gets us closer to a heartfelt, real understanding of the what hell is going on in the Universe and the ordinary life of a Human Being?

Human Beings are not very good at being totally objective, we are flawed; tricky, complicated.  We are stuck in the Human. A very subjective thing, indeed. A thorny conundrum. Yes.

Heady topic. Kind of a philosophical riddle. One wonders if the whole objective/subjective thing is just another misunderstanding, a misapprehension and mis-perception of the Universe. Maybe our Human Brains and things we conjure up are just off-target? Who knows?!

How did I get on this thought-train? Ha. I am thinking of buying another pair of headphones. On the hunt for the perfect sound. It probably doesn't exist. Another shimmering chimera dancing just out of reach. Another mystery that can only be solved by my own very subjective experience. I have been studying charts, soundwaves, frequency reponses. Comparing specificaitons. 

Still, in my heart of hearts, I know that it's all a crap-shoot. How will these headphones fit, feel & sound to me? My head, my ears, my body. How do those vibrations get intrepreted by my very human instrument? Super-subjetive. No doubt. Funny. Thorny.

A Moving Target Embedded in a Moving Target...

Life. Not what you think. 

No one ever tells you that. It might be helpful to hear that from others, but, on the other hand, probably not? No one wants to be told anything. That's sort of a shaky rule of thumb. Not exactly a written on stone commandment, but real-world experience. "Don't tell me what to do."

Turns out the only way thru Life is to experience it for yourself. There are no "hacks," no shortcuts. You have to live, and find out on your own. It's a pretty inefficient way to go. You know, "fuck around and find out."

So you fuck up lots. All the time. And then deal with the fresh fuck-ups as best you can. You improvise, you recalculate, you experiment, and decades whiz past you. You are constantly, morphing, evolving, changing. The world is too. It's all a moving target embedded within a moving target.

What do you find out? What you eat is important. Who you hang out with is important too. What you read, what you listen to, how you deal with emotion, how you handle success, failure, adversity, how you feed your head, your body, your soul. 

You have choices to make, moment to moment. And most decisions you make, you make with very little helpful knowledge at hand. You flail and fail. Often. You find out that everything counts. Even, and sometimes especially, the tiniest, seemingly insignificant things. Everything is consequential. Everything is potentially life-changing.  

And then, well, you will also find out it's not all in your head or hands. There is so much out of your grasp, your control, you have no idea.

Where you were born? Where do you choose to live?  Who were your parents? What is your genetic inheritance? What is going down in the wider world? You discover you are captive to a certain age, time, & era. You realize that time is a certain kind of relentless dictator. You are in the clutches of time. At all times.

It's just true. Life, it's more, and sometimes less, than you bargained for, and really you never had a chance to bargain. Life is not a business, it's not math, it's not dollars & cents, it doesn't always add up. For sure, life is not what you think.

The more I think on it, I suppose I do have a handful of  "Life Hacks," that sit well with me. I mean, I know if you are still with me here, still reading, you will probably ignore or disregard these, but, oh well, here is my list, in no particular order of importance, or, I mean, these are probably all equally important:

Life- Hacks

1. Keep moving.

2. Meditate.

3. Cultivate silence.

4. Work on being ok when you are alone.

5. Don't listen to anyone who says, "It can't be done."

6. Avoid stupid people, the know it alls, the nay-sayers & doom-purveyors.

7. Listen to music as if your life depended upon it.

8. Read books with a voracious purpose.

9. Hope, dream, stay positive.

10. Always be onto something. Find out the things that you love doing and do them.

Overwhelmed by the Stupid...

Here is an intriguing question: Does having empathy for the supremely stupid human beings in our midst, make us supremely stupid too?

Ha. A loaded question. 

What of all those folks who refuse to listen to Science, Biology, Math? What of those folks clinging to the convenient lies about Vaccines, Climate Catastrophe, Democracy, Free and Fair Elections, Intelligence? 

Yep. Seems that stupidity is on the rise. Folks who just don't want to face reality. Yes, there really is a reality. 

It pays to read, to think, to be open-minded, and to be willing to change your mind in the face of facts & evidence.  Yes. Even and especially when the facts and evidence challenges one's basic assumptions. Maybe a bit of humility? Go with the idea that you don't know everything, that what you feel, what you want to believe is true, isn't necessarily true. We are all works in progress, We need to feed our heads with smart things:  writers & thinkers, ideas of intelligence, etc. Yes. There are smart people in the world. We need to always be learning.

And yes, for sure, empathy is an essential tool in the Human Being kit-bag. But, for our mental health, there must be some limits or guard-rails. Dip too deep into the empathetic pool and you too may drown in the ocean of stupidity. 

Beware of disinformation and conspiracy-minded thinking. Yes. It's jungle of stupid madness out there. Tread carefully, gracefully, with eyes, hearts and heads open.

At some point we must turn away from the stupid ones. Out vote them, out work them, ignore them when they rant and rave. 

Maybe try this on for size: "Yes, I can understand you want to cling to your stupidity. I feel sorry for you. A mind is a terrible thing to waste. But, you know, I can't go there with you. Sorry. Get your shit together!"

I don't know. Wrestling with the stupid ones immediately makes one sort of stupid too. Maybe it's inevitable? Maybe the best way forward: AVOID THE STUPID ONES AT ALL COSTS!

A Worthy Occupation...

Oh yeah. Almost forgot. This time of year it gets really cold around here. There is a coat of frosty, newly-white snow on the ground. The air chills & bites. It is super-clear out there. The day does not caress, it grabs you by the face and seeks to deep-freeze you to the bone. How to survive? It's all about wearing thick layers, multiple sweaters, two pairs of socks, heavy boots, bulky gloves, a kooky, furry, winter hat. The lakefront is much less populated this time of year. The cold thins the human herd. There are the "pros" out there, and there are a few of the more committed, or obsessively nutty runners and power-walkers. Really it is the hardcore on out on the paths. So yeah, a starkly cold reality. It's a challenge. And it seems like an accomplishment just getting thru in one piece. Darkness bookends everything. Dark early, dark late, darkness rules. By 4:30 p.m. it is dead dark. Makes you want to cocoon. Wrap up tight, put your headphones on and ride the vibes of another time and place. There is something to be had in these times. There is a license to pull in your horns. Count your blessings, all your fingers and toes are still in working order, it feels like a win. Raw survival, it becomes a thing, a worthy goal & occupation.

Goofing Off to Inspiration...

Yesterday was a goof off day. I am pretty good at unplugging and goofing off. You know, maybe even a world-class goof. I approach goofing off as if it's an Olympic sport, or maybe a fine-art pursuit. A long, lazy Sunday. A no agenda, no obligation day. Leisurely morning, hot bath, a 30 minute Chi Machine session, a long, luxurious meditation in the living room surrounded by our 3 feathered friends. You know it was all about relaxing, renewing, recharging.  A total refresh.

We watched an old concert film, "It's Too Late to Stop Now," (1973) Van Morrison and the Caledonia Soul Orchestra filmed at the Rainbow in London.  Amazing band, amazing performance, Van the Man at his Irish Rebel Soul peak. Phenomenal. So inspiring.

We then watched Nick Cave and Warren Ellis in "This Much I know to Be True,"  (2022) performing songs from their two masterpiece albums "Ghosteen" and "Carnage." A knockout film. So powerful & spiritual. Nick is on a singular road, heart and head blasted wide-open. The best, finest, most powerful music of his career.

I finished the day listening to a demo song my partner and I recorded in front of a blazing fire a few days ago. A long, rambling, shambling 6 minute song recorded on a compact digital recorder. A work in progress.

We are definitely onto something. It seems our latest songs are so "us," definitive examples of our self-defined 21st Century Druid Music. We seem to be traveling back in time. A simple drum, an acoustic guitar, two voices.  Primal, obscure, poetic lyrics inspired by the natural world. 

I need to perfect my playing, delicate finger-picking alternating with bold strumming with a pick. Subtle changes in timing and approach. We may want to tighten the song up a bit. Every time we play it, it seems to get a bit more refined and complete. We do feel we are on the path to one of our best new songs. So exciting.

Goofing off, a doorway to inspiration. Ha. Funny. That's the way of The Fool.

A Beautifully Shimmering Path of Light...

My last post was a bit weighty (see previous post). Yesterday, in the one-breath-at-a-time, always analog world, things were less weighty, a bit less heady, it was a true boots on the ground reality. Kicking down the avenues, traveling to & fro, hither & tither, making the rounds, meeting obligations.

Early evening, right around 5pm, my friend and I were meandering along the lakefront. It was pitch-black dark. The night rules early nowadays around here. 

A deep-black sky, with a big, bold, brilliantly-glowing moon, not quite full, but pretty damn close. And the overwhelming, totally expansive, moody, and ominously quiet body of Lake Michigan, the color of deep, dark obsidian, was lit up by the starkly white-light of the moon. A beautifully shimmering path, created by the light-rays of the moon, rippled across the water; iridescent, ghostly, a path leading to, and falling off, the edge of the world.

It was stunning. Uncommon. A take your breath away moment of pure, wordless, nameless, Zen. Sure, it was cold, super-cold out there, but there was a stillness, a hushed silence that seemed to envelope and coat everything. We weren't thinking "god," we weren't grasping onto anything, just taking it all in. It is safe to say we were in a state of wonder and grace. It felt like we were in touch and in tune with a primal, pagan knowledge, ancient, timeless, a complete natural holiness. Yes. Indeed.

The Big Questions: Illusions, Belief, Religion, God. Who Knows?!

Yes. This from Brain Pickings and Oliver Sacks  seems essential. Yes. We need our illusions to keep our heads in the game:

"To live on a day-to-day basis is insufficient for human beings; we need to transcend, transport, escape; we need meaning, understanding, and explanation; we need to see overall patterns in our lives. We need hope, the sense of a future. And we need freedom (or at least the illusion of freedom) to get beyond ourselves, whether with telescopes and microscopes and our ever-burgeoning technology or in states of mind which allow us to travel to other worlds, to transcend our immediate surroundings. We need detachment of this sort as much as we need engagement in our lives… transports that make our consciousness of time and mortality easier to bear. We seek a holiday from our inner and outer restrictions, a more intense sense of the here and now, the beauty and value of the world we live in."

And this answer to a reader's question from Nick Cave about religious belief and belief in God seems on target and essential too.  What totally resonates with me: "resilient and doubting," and the primacy of "uncertainty" and the humbleness of belief: "sorrowful, and joyful, broadening and deepening, imagined and true." I love that kind of mysterious, uncertain grappling with belief, god or no god, and what it means in a humble life of leaning to the light.

"Amalia, I find that my religiousness is a slowly emergent state, one that is entirely drawn to the Anglican church of my childhood, and that the haunted presence of Christ is the essential and defining quality of that state of being. Christianity, for me, is bound up in the liturgy and the ritual and the poetry that swirls around the restless, tortured figure of Jesus, as presented within the sacred domain of the church itself. My religiousness is softly spoken, both sorrowful and joyful, broadening and deepening, imagined and true. It is worship and prayer. It is resilient yet doubting, and forever wrestles with the forces of rationality, armed with little other than the merest hunch or whispered intuition. The defining characteristic of my belief, and which I consider to be a fundamental imperative in my life, is uncertainty. This questioning impulse is the essence of freedom and the creative catalyst that keeps the wheels rotating irrevocably toward God."

This totally resonates with me. I grew up in the Catholic Church, under the eyes and direction of those black-habit wearing nuns. What did I get out of those years? A conflicted psyche. A sense of mystery, poetry, drama, theater.  There was beauty in the rituals. Those crazy-ass things: baptism, prayer, penance, communion, confirmation, the stations of the cross. It was all so over the top theatrical. I never really bought into it all, but it was quite dominating, and oppressive. Jesus seemed like a tragic dude, who got a raw deal. As Nick Lowe once asked: "What's so funny about peace, love & understanding?"

I do believe we can believe in big things without using our beliefs as a club to hammer other folks. Best to believe in the mystery, in love, in purpose, in the great unknowable uncertainty, the great cloud of unknowing that will always surround all things human. For me when I think "god" I think "good," the vibration of goodness and life. Yes. That's something to believe in. The more open-ended, abstract, fuzzy, mysterious, the better. Amen.

We Broke a Routine...

Usually the idea is to eat light, and keep moving. Eat less, walk more. It's a strategy for a more healthful reality. It sort of agrees with us and seems the best way forward. Yesterday, my lovely companion wheeled a cart-full of pre-cooked food thru the neighborhood to join me at our little Midwestern island of refuge.  She declared: "Meals on Wheels!" So very hobo. I am a lucky boy. We broke our routine. We had a big meal with all the Thanksgiving fixings: stuffing, corn, mashed potatoes, a cheesy brussel sprouts dish, and, instead of a real-deal, dead-bird, turkey we had a vegetarian turkey roll substitute. It did the trick. We were feeling quite thankful. Food & comfort. It seems sort of luxurious, and maybe even a bit decadent. So much of the world is need, want and the lack of the essentials. After a few platefuls of food we walked the neighborhood. So quiet and still. It was a sunny, brisk, autumn day. We marveled at all the amazing lakefront mansions in this neighborhood. Big, hulking overstuffed homes of the abundantly rich. These amazing structures seemed unoccupied, abandoned, folks traveling to far-flung destinations. We always marvel and wonder about how is it these wealthy folks make it. A robust accumulation of wealth that seems so far out of our reach. Unimaginable family wealth. Not our reality. For us, it's all a mystery. We are stuck in a day to day survival-mode. It's all smoke & mirrors, luck and pluck. When we encounter the poor and downtrodden, those folks with even less than us, they are scattered on street corners around town, we think: "There but for the grace of god, go I..." Maybe it's a good thing? Being in touch with basic humility, close to the bone, close to the street. Makes us appreciate all the things we do have, and reminds us we shouldn't worry about what we don't have, no sense taking anything for granted. Thankful. Yes.

Tune Into the Wonder...

Ha. I am very suggestible. Easily moved. Give me a morning of blazing sunshine, with crisp autumn temps,  fortified with a pot of superbly-brewed coffee, with brilliantly soulfully played acoustic guitar music from the great Davey Graham on the box, and well, optimism and good cheer flow like an over-abundant river of love. It doesn't take much to find the beauty and power of a new day. It's a holiday, which means a little less shuffling about the neighborhood. Not as much schlepping as usual. I may not be a rich fellow, but there are riches to be had here. Feeling good. Alive, aware, awake. That's kind of an amazing thing. Easily over-looked and undervalued. Tuning into the wonder. A life of simple, rich moments of beauty. Yes. Indeed.

A Temporary Visitor...

A bit disconnected & dislocated.

Distant from the hurly-burly, and the thunder of the wider world. Sheltering in an enormous mansion with one little furry critter. It's sort of a weirdly consuming island retreat. Not my home. I am just a temporary visitor. Surrounded by all the things that I could fit in a travel bag: my coffee beans, my music, my books, my thoughts, all my little obsessions. I  also brought my guitar and little digital recorder. Lots of time alone with a friendly dog. Lots of time spent strumming and singing in the big, bright, shiny, kitchen.

Time slows down. The day is measured by meals and walks. Everything seems simpler. Surviving. Keeping my friend busy, and my head occupied with whatever. My main responsibility: be present, be aware, alive, awake. There is a purity in that, a sort of cleansing. Dropping the worries, the doubts, letting go of the needing, wanting, grasping. Sometimes it seems that existence is enough. One breath at a time.

Fanfare for the Common Man & Woman...

We get distracted by the bullies, the loud-talkers, the overstuffed egotists, the rich & powerful bozos in business, in politics, those attention-seeking bad actors who are always swimming in, and dominating, the conversation. We put clowns and con-men, flim-flam artists, show-offs, narcissists, psychos, front and center. The culture is off the rails, putting the noisy ones up on pedestals. The media loves to amplify the extremists in the cultural bloodstream. Anyone with money to burn can squeeze the oxygen out of any room.

Yikes. It is a bad stew, for sure.

What of humility, grace, kindness, the common good? What of human beings struggling to do the right thing? The little people, the common ones, you know, just people, those not seeking the limelight, people just trying to live a good life. A simple code for living: alive, aware, awake. Human beings with their feet on the ground, their heads screwed on right. Tuning out the B.S. Trying to lean to the light, gravitating to simple goodness. Human beings who know they are deeply flawed, trying to do the best they can. Yes, that's the human conundrum, carrying on in the face of the odds. Damn the torpedoes. 

Happy Birthday Joe...

Happy Birthday President Joe Biden. 

I am one of those voters who are not worried about Joe's age. I celebrate that we have an experienced hand at the wheel of our ship of state. Joe knows his shite. He is quite good at his job, and he seems to be intently focused on doing his best. What more can a voter, and a concerned citizen expect? He is one man, he can't solve all the problems in the world, but he can do what he can to make the world a better place. Joe is a dedicated public servant, a distinguished political operator. I have always thought that he is the best man for the job, especially in the current moment, a moment of serious complexity. I enthusiastically voted for him in the last election, and I will do the same in the next one in 2024. Really.

Gypsy-like Troubadour...

It's all about the light. That's where life and beauty manifest. Bathing in the light.

A golden morning light comes streaming in thru the big kitchen windows facing East. I am in a new place. Another magnificent, quite beautiful home. New assignment, new little furry friend. A new day, new reality. Everything is different, all the little details have been scrambled: this stairway, this bed, these pillows, this coffeemaker, these mugs. Maybe that is a good thing, you have to adjust, you have to adapt to new surroundings. Maybe it clears the cobwebs? All the things you take for granted can't be taken for granted because everything has been altered, reconfigured, and rearranged.

Make a routine, break a routine. 

Of course, everything is here, at hand, a bounteous, treasure-filled life. This home is luxurious, and well out-fitted. No challenges here. Living is easy. Eyes open or closed.

The basics are the same: coffee, music, writing. I lugged my guitar over here. A little digital recorder at the ready, just in case inspiration strikes. I am not making any promises but often a new place, new surroundings lead to new riffs, new songs, little breakthroughs, who knows?

In some ways my life is so very simple. Be aware, alive, awake. Always be moving. Keep my guitar close to hand and just play. Always have music in the air, and playing on the box. There is so much trouble in the world, but no trouble in this place of magnificence. For sure, an odd, marginal way to live, an intermittent Gypsy-like, troubadour existence. It's a life. Small, intimate. All mine.

Our Neighborhood...

Thinking about our neighborhood. We ended up here by accident, with little fore-thought: a friend, a job, the sprawling lakefront enticing us.

We are surrounded by beauty here. We are perched on the Northwest side of Lake Michigan. It is a tree-filled place with almost unimaginably beautiful mansions and old brick apartments dotted all across town. The homes get bigger, pricier and more mind-boggling & impressive the closer you get to the lakefront. There is a large University in town, with its own big rambling, gorgeous campus. This is a diverse, progressive, blue-bubble enclave. This town exudes class, intelligence, and money.

My partner and I don't really belong here. We are marginal characters. Particularly-particular birds. Still, we do well here, we are making it, day to day. Of course, we are often schlepping, always on the move, always hustling to make it. How we survive is an open question. My answer: Luck & Pluck. It's all primarily smoke and mirrors, but we have actually thrived here. We love this place. Yes it does get cold here, the winters can be a challenge, but there is beauty in the depths of winter too. We are lucky to know lots of folks here: Creatives, Musicians, Artists, Writers, Professors, Doctors, Lawyers; over-flowing, over-stuffed families of wealth, distinction and accomplishment.

It can be a bit intimidating. My partner and I are odd ducks, and from a young age, it is safe to say, that we both have always felt like outsiders, outliers, underdogs, people who don't really fit in anywhere."You're not from around here, are you?" You know, in it, not of it. Over the years that has sort of become a feature, not a flaw, in our approach and demeanor. We wear that misfit, odd-duck-ness as a badge of honor. So, yeah, we stand out in the crowd here, and that's okay.

I do think there is a tremendous benefit being surrounded by beauty, privilege and accomplishment. There is also an advantage to living in a neighborhood that we are always navigating: walking, biking, always on the street, meeting and greeting.

Once in a while we are reminded that we "don't really belong here." Usually it's when we are doing "the schlep," for folks who have made it and can hire other folks to do the schlep for them. We work for other folks. At the same time, we are often, usually, surprisingly, welcomed with open arms. Most of the wealthy, accomplished, non-schleppers that we know are thoughtful, kind, generous, open-minded, and giving.

What's the point of all this? Place is important: where you live, who you meet, what you do, how you carry yourself, the stories you tell yourself, and others. Sure, you are a weirdo, an odd-duck character, unique, strange, perpetual-misfit and underdog, unlike other folks in your orbit. And that's a good thing.  You know, head held high. Damn the torpedoes.

Can't Hold Onto Anything...

Ah... well... can't hold onto anything. 

Yesterday afternoon, after a morning filled with a flurry of activity, my partner and I rode our bikes over to our "sun-spot." It's one of our favorite places on the planet, fronting Lake Michigan, with a great view of downtown Chicago;  all the massive buildings and towers looking like little tinker-toys on the southern front. Another day of paradise. It was pure pleasure to park our bikes on the big verdant, rolling lawn. We sat against a stone wall and let the sunshine pour down upon us. This time of year the sun is at such a tilt, the rays of the sun just seem to caress, and there is an amazing, otherworldly, golden glow shining upon everything. Think of that golden glow in some of those great Rembrandt paintings, or one of Salvador Dali's wildly surreal landscapes. Yes. Like that, a golden glow that totally suffuses everything, the blue water, the brilliantly colored trees, the runners, the bikers, the wind-surfers, the sailboats. An optical illusion, the golden glow seems to come both from within and without all things. Anyway, this little spot is an uncommon, quite extraordinary place, we think of it as a "power spot." It's off the beaten track, we can sit in silence, watch the passing scene, without interruption from folks passing by. We sipped cold Kombucha and talked about everything, and nothing, under the sun. We lingered, dawdled. We didn't want to leave. The minutes ticked by, but sort of in a lazy, lovely slow-motion. We knew this was a bonus day, an amazingly beautiful November day in the heartland. We wanted it all to last even as we watched the sun slowly make its trek across the sky towards the west. Finally, reluctantly, we had to admit that it was time to go; places to be, promises to keep. We got back on our bikes and rode off down the path. Time. Can't stop time. Sometimes it feels like you can slow down time, but there is no stopping it. Nothing lasts. Can't hold onto anything. You can feel everything falling away even as you try to hold on. Unfortunately, there is no holding on, or stopping; the day, the time, life, it just rolls out and away from us moment by moment.

No Freaking Out...

There are many reasons to freak out: the climate catastrophe, politics, social media, the 24/7 noise machine, calculated disinformation, humanity's never-ending inhumanity to humanity, chaos, random chance, and the always, any time, looming catastrophe lurking around every corner.

My good friend said to me yesterday: "I'm worried."

I replied: "Yep. That's understandable. If you are paying attention, you should be worried. BUT, don't worry too much, maybe just a little bit. Set aside a brief window of time to worry. Then, get on with it."

She laughed at that. I laughed too.

Still, I do think it is good advice. Sure, worry a little bit, that seems appropriate, but totally freaking out is not helpful. Carry on. Keep your head. Keep your cool. Do all the things you have to do, and do them well. Try to set an example. Grace under pressure. Cool, calm, collected. Oh yeah, and damn the torpedoes!

Being Human...

I am a human being, I have been for a number of decades. So, you know, I think I know what it means to be a human being from the inside out. I realize my experience is partial, subjective, totally my own, and I also know that conclusions I draw from my experiences and feelings may be off-target, wrong-headed & misleading. But I am sort of confident in saying that being human is a tricky, complicated, contradictory, and a sometimes self-baffling & gob-smackng adventure.

The last few days, (see two previous posts), have been like living in a little slice of paradise. Beautiful days, beautiful moments, moments of wonder and joy, alive in secret gardens of pleasure; moments strung out in front of me like a necklace of shiny & lovely pearls.

At the same time, my nights, have been filled with turmoil, hurly-burly, toil & trouble. Dark dreams. Elaborate nightmares. I wake up thinking " Ye gods, only a dream," but there is a residue of uncertainty, clouds of concern, existential angst & doubt; vast, turbulent, overwhelming hurricanes of unknowing swirling around in my being.

As per Dylan, "Where have you been, my blue-eyed son?" 

And, shite, "Where are you going, my darling young one?"

Aye. There's the rub. I don't rightly know. My dream-world is all about being lost, missed connections, no name, uncertain identity, wandering nameless streets in some unknown, broken, foreign city. I stumble about clueless & floundering. I don't who I am, where I am, where I'm going. Ha! Oh so human. Bifurcated. Twisted. Crucified on the cross of contradiction. The light and dark dancing some weird, dervish-like dance, always locked hand in hand. Yep. That's a human thing right there. Days of sunshine and light, nights of darkness and black. Again, quoting Dylan: "I contain multitudes..."

Expanding Beauty...

The expanding day, the expanding minutes and hours. That is how we experienced it yesterday. It was so uncommonly beautiful around here. Not exactly what you'd expect in mid-November in the Heartland. Gorgeous blue skies, a warm, welcoming, caressing sun. The rays of the sun dominated the day. The sun is at a certain tilt, it bathes everything in a shimmering, golden light. My friend and I bathed in the beauty of the day. We walked thru all the fallen leaves on the paths and sidewalks. The sound of crunching, brittle leaves underfoot. It seemed to us that time was at a standstill. Minutes ticked by in slow-motion. We wanted it all to last forever. Our day, our time. We sat in a little sunny corner of a big grassy, secret garden space. We talked about everything, and nothing. We held onto absolutely nothing. We were in flow, the flow of no-flow. The days are "getting shorter," sunshine is a shrinking reality around here, but these hours of glorious beauty completely filled us up. It was extraordinary. The expanding day...

The Ordinary Extraordinary...

Up early. Predawn. It is still black outside, the stars are twinkling, there is a thin line, a hint of pink, orange and gold on the horizon line.  Everything is sort of hushed. You can almost feel the trees, grasses, rocks, streets and sidewalks, straining to be silent and still, waiting for something extraordinary to happen. Funny. Something extraordinary does happen every morning, it is never ordinary in the least, and if you pay attention, it is always different, never the same way twice. You can get spoiled and jaded, but that's a flaw in your being. No reason not to fall down in pure wonder, joy and incomprehension. A sunrise. A new day. Unlike any other day. Really.

Pleasure, a Lifestyle...

Pleasure. Can you base a life on pleasure? Probably yes. It's a philosophy, a viewpoint, a lifestyle, and a code for living. What kind of pleasure? Many and varied pleasures. Good food. Good music. Good thoughts. Writing. Walking. Thinking. Being open-ended, open-headed, open-hearted. Leaning to the light. Being positive and healthy. Not taking anything too seriously. Living light and with a hint of grace. Realizing it's a big, complicated Universe, and this humble, little pilgrim is just a tiny energy in a vast sea of energies. When I listen to a good album on the big stereo system at high volume, it's almost a religious ritual. It's a ritual of pleasure. This morning, blazing sunshine and Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers blasting out. Beautiful. Pure pleasure. That's the way to do it.

Deep & Profound...

It happens every year. Still it is easy to forget. The seasons change. The sun tilts. The temps edge down. The leaves turn, and then, they fall like brittle, dead, unopened letters. We mess with the clocks. As a result, daylight shrinks faster. There are a few hours of glorious sunshine, bounded by vast periods of darkness. Blackout late afternoon. Dead-dark early a.m. The darkness is deep & profound. No way around it. That's the trend over here. Makes one "pull in their horns." There are all those solitary pursuits. Writing. Playing guitar. Conjuring up songs. Putting headphones on, plugging into a little Walkman and spinning those little silver discs. Mainlining albums from Jason Isbell; graceful, powerful, sad & inspiring; artful recordings, suffused with a burning fire of love and madness. The necessary tonic to make it, to keep the flame alive in your heart and head. Burning raw in the darkness.

The Ever Expanding Present...

You know, one of my mantras: Live in the moment. Another way of saying we are always and only alive in the present. There is no past, there is no future, there is only the ever-expanding present. That seems to fit. So yes, the longer I walk around on the planet, the more expansive and wide-ranging the present becomes. The present swallows up and subsumes everything.  What I remember of the past, how I interpret the past, the stories I tell myself about the past are always morphing, evolving, shifting. The narrative is alive and changing. The past isn't set, it's always being modified by the present.  The same process is at work  in relation to the future, what i project & imagine about the future is just a reflection of the present. The now of now. Yesterday was all present, and  my partner and I spent our time  simply existing in the present fully. Light, shadow, sun, shade, blue sky, puffy clouds, cold, warm; time coming to a standstill, one breath slowing down, one breath at a time. Each breath became a symphony. What happened, what will happen? Who knows? The present dominates. Existing in the present, the whole thing.