Ego-Death = A Clearing...

I was reminded of that concept: Ego Death. I read about it, and a couple nights later I experienced it. It came after a series of unfortunate events: a super-busy flurry of activity, total exhaustion, poor sleep, a few rejections, a sudden, shocking death of one of our collaborators. It all sort of sent me reeling and one early evening, I fell into a very vulnerable, fragile state.

And then, "trying to sleep," I went thru a rosary of moritfications & humiliations. Funny. I was stuck in my head running a film-strip of a continuous loop of life-events that put me, my being, my personality, in the worst light. It was like a ritual shaming. Every last thing that played in my head made me feel worse. I relived a long series of failures over my lifetime. It was a shattering of my Ego. Stuck in a hall of mirrors of fucked-up-ness.

It was humbling. I crashed in the darkness. Funny. I could not conjure up any of the "good times," or successses in my life. It was just a long slog of phoniness, failure and futility. I finally turned from this hell of consciousness and fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up, I was totally, completely, truly, madly, deeply, empty & clear.

I felt like a ceramic mug that had shattered into a million pieces on the floor. I had to slowly put the pieces back together. There were jagged edges and cracks eveywhere. I have slowly day by day come back to life, one breath, one step at a time. I have been a bit quieter, a bit more gentle and tentative with myself and others. I threw myself into the things of the day: playing music, writing songs, collaborating with our band. The key move was to step out of my deep self-consciousness, into a consciousness of the Universe of things.

Sure, it was a bit of an Ego Death. I now think of it as a necessary cleanse. The images and scenes that destroyed me, no longer seem to have their power or zing. The dust clears: I am here. Still ticking. Ha. That's life. Maybe a deflated, more shrunken Ego means more room for the rest of the Universe to find a place in my being? Yeah, sure, let's go with that idea.

Affix Firmly...

"You only tell the truth when you are wearing a mask." - Bob Dylan

Maybe the mask is the lie that reveals the truth?

What happens when the mask slips? Or you put on the wrong mask to meet the wrong moment? A fracture in the reality-picture? Thinking... "not as smart as you think you are..."

Helpless in the face of circumstances. Flailing. Falling. Crashing. In the morning light, the picture starts to reassemble itself. A new mask is within reach. Just reach your arms out and embrace. Affix firmly for best results...

Karma = Salacious Joyride!

Editorial cartoons. One of our greatest art-forms. A well rendered scene can really pack a quality punch. A great editorial cartoon can say everything that can be said in an instant flash of brilliance.  Spot-on the point. It is sort of wondrous. I love this one-panel example from one our greatest editorial cartoonists Mike Lucovich.

"Karma!"

It makes me smile, and laugh out-loud, because I too have been on the theme of the "karma-train." Fat-Boy Slime sits in a Manhatten courtroom, and he has to face a barrage of folks who are recounting the sordid deeds of his life. 

Sure it's an ugly circus, a bit of a shit-show, a salacious (what a great word) joyride, icky and a bit vomit-inducing, but that man is just facing the music of a life of fraud and lies. It's a reckoning. A trial of accountability. It's Karma-time, baby! 

Daily Mantra...

"Chill the fuck out."

My partner and I are sensitive, excitable folks. We are just wired that way. It is always a struggle just to keep on an even keel. Not actually sure it's possible. We have our days of blue skies and golden sunshine, and then we have those days of turmoil & hurly-burly. One step forward, two steps back. It's always a herky-jerky dance thru our days.

Everything counts, everything is connected. Living in this Universe is a PTSD-evoking kind of thing. We wear the trauma and drama in our bodies. There are the great & grand Universal fuck-ups and tragedies, and there are the personal, closer to home ones too. It's all so turbulent. 

Chaos.  It's built into the fabric of our lives. "Chill the fuck out." It's our latest, go-to mantra.

The Aquarium of Narcissim...

 I don't think it is a stretch to think that it is Narcissim that rules the present day across the Human Realm:

  "a self–centered personality style characterized as having an excessive preoccupation with oneself and one's own needs, often at the expense of others."

Well. Yeah. That is the aquarium we all swim in, preoccupied with oneself, at the expense of others.

We live as if we are all celebrities. We build altars to our own Egos. Ha. It's all kind of silly, self-absorbed, and pretty off-putting too. Having a "smart phone" in hand at all times, to capture the many angles of a self is a weird way to spend your days. Yep. It's a weird hall of mirrors. For sure.

It's tricky. I am one who writes about my own experience day to day. I am self-aware. And in some ways that seems important. Again we are left with navigating a dichotomy: self-aware/self-less.  There is a wide spectrum of human activity.

We can choose not to play the narcissim card. Really. I think so. Sure, being self-aware is a bit of a sticky wicket. But I find that the best of times are those where I "lose my self." Give one's self, one's ego to meet a moment, an activity, or another person. Seeking those flow activities where you become one with something other.

Being present, dropping the ego, tricking your self, to lose your self, to subsume into a higher-consciousness. Yes. I think it's possible. And desirable. A step out of the hall of mirrors, into a vast Universe of other things. A step towards better, more rewarding, mode of living.

A Glorious Idleness...

Yesterday my partner and I experimented with "being present." Mundane Monday turned into a festival of hanging out. We are dedicated pros when it comes to chasing a positive vibe afternoon. In some ways it was a perfect day. Cool breeze off the lake, brilliant sunshine, not too cold, not too hot, gorgeous blue sky, everything alive and blooming. We truly live in a beautiful neighborhood. It is stunning and extraordinary. The grasses, the trees, the flowers, the little critters, every being alive, and at full attention, fully-engaged with their living schtick. We downshifted into a passive, genial, moment to moment bliss. We rode our bikes and gravitated to our favorite sun-spot, a bit of a distance away from the hurly-burly, but within eye and ear shot of it too. We snacked on power-bars. We barely talked. Words kind of hung in the air around us. Time slowed to a crawl. We sat like amateur Buddhas, propped against a massive stone wall. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to be, nothing to do, except what we were doing. Being present. Truly, madly, deeply present. It was not boring, it was a glorious idleness. There was a beautiful lightness of being. We both felt it. The afternoon was about the not doing. There was no needing, wanting, grasping. It was all moment to moment presence. There was nothing and everything enwrapped in that gesture. We didn't want to leave. We let the afternoon flow. It was...

"Don't Go Down in the Basement..."

I am an open-minded, up for pretty much of anything type of person. I actually think of myself as someone who can contemplate any idea or concept. Except, I mean, up to a point. An unguarded, totally open mind can get one into trouble.

There are some avenues,  some roads, some destinations, some topics, some ideas, some fears, worries, doubts, that just aren't worth floating, delving into or exploring. Really. No sense in wallowing, or ruminating over toxic, pernicious, or deeply-detrimental subjects.

It is best to try to protect yourself from any Soul-killing phenomena. "A mind is a terrible thing to waste," especially on waste.

Like they say in the movies, if you are smart, and want to make it to the final-credits: "Don't go down in the basement."

Yes. Maybe easier said than done. Sometimes you just can't escape the black-holes that are lurking in the Universe. You can easily fall-in, get sucked into the vortex and be destroyed. Destruction is implicit in the fabric & design of Life.

It takes a bit of pluck & luck & discipline to avoid the deep-darknesses. Sometimes you really can't. I mean, for sure you can't. So you fall, you go down deep into the darkness, and you hope, beyond hope, that you will emerge again into the light.

It's not easy being Green. 

Still, I think that we Human Beings have a deep affinity for the light. We gravitate to it. Sometimes all it takes is a tiny glimmer, a little glint, or spark. It's enough, to get up and out from the dark places. You have to be vigilant, strong-willed, and tough. Be merciless in your ability to grab onto the light. Hang on as if your life depended on it. And at the same time, you must stay open, kind, and gentle, with yourself and others too. It's complicated, for sure.

Decay in the Room...

"We don't know where we come from. We don't know where we are." - Laurie Anderson

Life. It's long. It's short. 

There is an agreeable Decay in the Room...

"What Is..."

Bumping up against "what is." It can be awkward, it can be annoying, it can be eye-opening, it can be dream-crushing, it can be surprising, it can be amazing, it can be beautiful, it can be a teaching-moment, it can be a disillusioning, it can be an education or a re-education, it can alter your trajectory significantly.

You find out that you are not complete, instead you are in an improvisation with "what is." It's long-form improvisation. You can dodge & dance, you can flirt and flaunt, you can grasp and hold on, you can ride the tiger, you can surrender and let go.  No matter what, you have to contend with "What is..." That's life.

It is All Play...

Well... I have learned to play a game. It's part of my "creative" practice. I often "pretend," that everything is new. You know, "beginner's mind?" I act as if, whatever I am doing has never been done before by me or by anyone else either. Ha. I try to short-circuit my "conscious mind," and open to a larger energy field. Sounds silly, or mysterious, but I find it is a simple tool, an emptying of the head. It is often effective & quite liberating. 

First time to write a song. First time to float a dream. First time to put my fingers on a guitar's fretboard. First time to reach out to someone. First time to ask a question. 

There is a bit of a feigned naivete in my approach. Maybe a bit of playing dumb? A primitive's attitude. It's a way of opening a door, opening a mind to something new.

A new day, a new moment. Dropping the past, not thinking of the future. Not worrying about success or failure. Just the doing, in the moment, without worrying or judging. What happens? Happy accidents. Little, surprising discoveries. Gifts from the sky. Playing the Fool in the service of a  higher purpose. Unnamed. Unknowing. It is a working method & a process. A little lie of the mind.  I find it does "work." My best efforts seem to come effortlessly. It is all play.

What Is?

I'm reading Lord Byron's "Don Juan," (it's about pretty much everything), and I came across a "philisophical" passage where he talks about "the world," and "what is." It is in opposition to Berkeley's "idealism," which posits that everything is "in our heads."

As Byron tells it, to think that the world is all in our heads is just pure egotism. 

Put me in the camp with Byron. You know, maybe we are "spiritual beings," living in a "material world?" Hat-tip to George Harrison "Living in the Matrial World."  (1973). And our "job" (sentient beings, witnesses and watchers of the grand unspooling of the Universe), as Human Beings is to notice, to experience, to see, to feel, to take in, "what is." Every damn day. Yesterday, May 1, was Beltane:  the Gaelic May Day festival. We are all here to be fully alive, aware, awake.

What is?

I mean, what happened yesterday? Around here it was an explosion of warm temps, and brilliant color. It was an embracing, a caressing, kind of day. How it is possible that Nature takes front & center and the world flowers and blooms in one glorious instant? That isn't what happened, it has been a slow process, a gradual unfolding, you know, Spring in the Midwest of America, but yesterday if felt like everything was revealed in one instant. Maybe the recent rains and storms lit the fuse?

A beautiful, abundantly-lively & gorgeously-immersive day. Everyone was out and about. Everything was alive, even the rocks, the ground itself, seemed to be pulsing with life. Everything seemed at play. Sun. Blue Sky. Rippling Lake. Green Vegetation. Lively, Looming Trees. Flowers of Every Color & Shape. Everything Bubbling & Blooming. All you could do: see it, feel it, smell it, luxuriate in it. It was overpowering. Amazing. Yes. Beltane, baby. 

Magnificent: to be alive in the moment, to take it all in through our senses five. So wonderfully Human. So, so Beltane... and what is...

Messages...

I flick on the radio and the coffeemaker, and empty the dishwasher, plates, bowls, mugs, forks, spoons, knives all returned to their usual places.

Two random, unconnected, sentences float in the air, seperated by time and circumstance, and land in my head. I repeat  the words, sort of like a hypnotized, brain-dead zombie. 

I mean, I am waiting for that first sip of brain-reviving coffee brew. These are two totally unrelated, orphan sentences spoken via radio-waves, by different folks, about different topics. It is  only my own tricky little brain that puts the puzzle-pieces together for one inspired thought of great insight & wisdom:

"The is the real world."

AND... then...

"Be present."

Ha. Okay. All right. I get it. Message delivered and received. Roger that!

This Story Will Probably Continue to "Dog" Her...

Sorry. I spend lots of time with dogs. Every kind of breed & disposition. It boggles my mind that someone would brag about shooting a dog, as if it was some kind of positive quality...

This story just doesn't sit well with me.

What brings Red & Blue state America together? 

Well... maybe not so surprisingly... 

Proudly declaring to be a puppy-killer, telling the story in your upcoming book, adding it to your resume, is not exactly a career-enhancing quality. You wonder who encouraged her to include it in her book. Not exactly a courageous, laudable, inspiring act.  Ha.  Not sure how the Governor of South Dakota plans to spin this into winning political gold... I guess we shall see... ha...

What's the Narrative Thru-Line?

Tuned into National Public Radio early this morning. Seems all of the news is a bit corrosive and disconcerting. Trying to be up to date and well-informed has it's downsides. On the one hand, one thinks: "It's good to be aware of what's happening in the world," On the other hand, one thinks: "It's all a bit depressing; the many ways, Human Beings fuck over other Human Beings." There seems to be a narrative thru-line. The follies, the foibles, the flaws, the bad acts, the bad faith, the basic fucked-up-ness of being Human. What to do? I grab another cup of coffee, and put a CD on the music box. This morning it is King Crimson's "Islands," (1971), a strange, uncommon, gorgeous beast of a recording. It ranges across moods and modes. Is it rock, is it Jazz, is it Symphonic, is it Avant Garde? Yes. All of the above. I am reminded of and carried away by melody, harmony, the stubborn beauty, the prodigious creativity of Humans Beings exploring musical vibrations. Already, I'm feeling a bit better, sort of fortified with a renewed focus & energy to engage with a new day.*

*Post-Post-Note: After I wrote the above post, I finished my coffee, finished listening to the recording, took a short walk with a faithful companion in a light rain, had nice breakfast, took a long shower, and thought about the "Consolations" of a Life. I mean, it may be that a well-written and well-sung line, a smartly-composed, well-played collection of songs is a very thin, paltry and inadequate reed of consolation in oppostition to the mad & sad hurly-burly, that fills our days, and often totally consumes us. A brilliantly-conceived work of creativity doesn't erase the long narrative of human fuck-up-ness. Still, it is what we have, maybe all we have, a tiny string of small consolations that helps us get thru a day. A new dawn, a good brew, a nice meal, a warm bed, a hot shower, an engaging book, an inspiring collection of music from around the world, a new rabbit-hole to fall into, a crazy creative obsession to play with, a long day of dreaming and distraction. That's the other side, the sunny-side, the ligh side vs the dark side of that fuck-up-ness. That's it. A tiny thread to keep our heads in the game.

The Really, Really Stupid Part...

Ha. Well. Maybe the stupidest Govenor in America is a Woman,  Kristi Noem, Governor of South Dakota, who bragged about killing her hunting dog, 14 months old, because it was "untrainable." She shot the dog in a gravel pit. A pretty cruel, nasty & dastardly thing to do. I kid you not.

The really stupid part? 

She wrote about the killing in her new book, thinking it was a great example of her being a MAGA, can-do politician, someone who will take on the hard, politically-incorrect, non-woke things necessary for America. Of course, she is vying to be VP for Fat Boy Slime. Supposedly he hates dogs, so who knows, maybe it will appeal to that hollow cretin?

For the rest of us, coldly executing a young dog? Probably one of the of stupidest, most depraved things anyone has ever floated as an honorable and admirable act. Just mind-boggling & pathetic. Should this crazed-admission be a career-killer? Maybe so. Talk about self-sabotage. 

As one who spends lots of time with dogs, it is safe to say that usually, if there are "dog problems," there is a direct line to "owner/people problems."  And, though it seems like it should go without saying, say it I will, if you have a problem with your young dog, maybe think of putting it up for adoption? Let someone else give it a go?

Just a thought.  Yikes. I mean, maybe let's make America a bit kinder and gentler, and a safe, nurturing place for young dogs, and the rest of us too?

Sing, Laugh, Love, Play...

"Who is gonna save us?"

Ha. No one. We are on our own. We have always been on our own. We have to muddle thru our own way. It's a bit disconcerting. You may think that maybe there is a higher power that will guide us, lend us a hand, pull us up on our feet, dust us off, wish us well.  

Nope. Not gonna happen. 

I mean, maybe there is a Higher Power, but it is not concerned with us. Think of the Universe. It's big, it's got other stuff to do. We are just a tiny energy in a vast ocean of energy.

That could be a total buzz-kill. Waiting for a Saviour to swoop down, and make everything right. A fairy tale. Why isn't the Universe about me? Well it just isn't. You are about you.

That's the "reality," of the situation. Let's call it the Human Condition. We are all just Human Beings, stuck on a planet of other Human Beings. None of us have fucking clue, really. We are all pretty much making it up as we go. 

The Life You Save, Will Be Saved By You. But don't let it go to your head. Start with the idea that you know nothing. Be humble, inquisitive, improvisational. And, well, reach out to your fellow Humans, not looking for saving, but looking for fellow travellers, collaborators, lovers & friends.

It really should be liberating, right?! You make Life, you make your  own Life, your own? There are a few guiding principles, they are open-ended, and partial, but they are useful:

Lean to the Light.

Keep your feet on the ground.

Fuck Fear.

Damn the Torpedoes.

Keep your head.

Keep calm, carry on.

Experience Life, don't try to Solve it.

Do the best you can. 

Be kind, gentle, humble.

Listen to Nature. 

Be fucking real.

Sing, Laugh, Love, Play.

WTF?! Skinny Immunity?!?!?

I am sure there will be lots of expert opinions floating in the air after the Supreme Court's "Presidential Immunity" hearing yesterday. 

Here are my very un-expert reflections...

Human Beings. We are damn tricky. We can use logic, reason, rationality and intellectual persuasion to pretty much argue for any position. We all have biases, we all have blind spots, we are all driven by ideologies. Often we start with an idea, an opinion, and then beat the shit of out reality to fit our world-view within a nice, neat, brightly-wrapped, bundle.

Clarity, and common sense can easily be ravaged & swamped. Being "Supreme" doesn't mean excellent. Maybe a bit of an over-reach and misnomer?

Very, very learned, articulate and persuasive Human Beings often sling total unmitigated B.S. They can make a shit-sandwich sound very fine and good.  There are some (at least 3?), real idealogical, radical-right-wing, black-hole assholes on the Supreme Court, no doubt. Getting a peek inside Samuel Alito's brain immediately gave me vertigo, a major headache, a sinking feeling of being trapped inside a hideous hall of mirrors of bad-faith and right-wing B.S. Holy Shite! The word that popped into my head: claptrap = pretentious nonsense.

The hearing was pretty annoying, disconcerting, filled with hurly-burly, legelese, nonsense & head-scratchingly bad faith lawyering. One is reminded that having law degrees, wearing black robes, flaunting gaudy titles, slinging fancy words, holding positions of ultimate legal power does not mean that there is wisdom or good outcomes to be expected.

Just like anything else there is the Human touch: a scrambled omelet of uncertain provenance. Arbitrary, biased, limited, often off-target too. Higher Authorities? Not what they are cracked up to be. Coming to a decision and a ruling will be a nasty wrangling of votes, coming to some kind of  ugly consensus, an unseemly, stinky, compromise. It will for sure be a kluge, a learned clusterfuck, probably a deformed little baby of law that no one is happy with. Yikes.  

What does it all add up to? Delay for the January 6 trial. Uncertainty. And a new concept that may be floated, one that I hadn't heard before: Skinny Immunity (?!?)... what a world... oh so Human. It is amazing we can make it thru day to day... good Lord, we know not what we do...

The Malefactor Vs. The USA...

Funny. 

The first thing I hear on the radio this morning that the Supreme Court they will be hearing the "Presidential Immunity Case," later today.  You know it's the "Donald Trump VS. the United States," case.

What is the first thought that pops up in this concerned citizen's head?

Donald Trump Vs. The United States? Yes. Exactly. 

These Days...

These are our days...

We own them, we live them, we navigate them. We learn that you only get so many of them. The number of days is not unlimited. That is important to know.

We should treasure them. The days in which we live. 

Sometimes the days fly, sometimes they seem to plod along. Some days you count your blessings, some days you catalog your curses.

Living your days to the fullest. Seems the way.

Even if you look upon a day that has just passed and you think: "That was hard. That was a deep slog. Shite. I am exhausted."

Lately, I have had a few of those. Too much "toing and froing." At the end of the day, I know that I just had a day, unlike any of the others, even if in so many ways it resembles so many others.  You know, in one light a slight, paltry, mundane kind of day, filled with simple, repetitive, menial tasks, and, at the same time, in another light, an amazing, wonder-filled day of uncommon sights and sounds.  One of my precious days. Weird dichotomy at work there.

Days of wine and roses, and days of slogs, and curses... 

That's life. Well-lived to the max. The power, the glory, and the just getting thru in one piece.

2 Rules for Good Living...

We live in affluent neighborhood. We aren't affluent ourselves, we are basically "hangers on," folks, living on the margins, living "above our station."  You know, we are hanging on, and hanging in. It's a great neighborhood, near a massive midwestern lake, with lots of beautiful trees, parks, beaches, and magnificent old homes, located near a big, sprawling University campus. Pretty nice. Our town. Diverse. Prosperous.  Well-educated.

Turns out living in an affluent neighborhood, around lots of well-educated people,  is good for our health. 

Why would this be so? Kind of simple and logical, really...

 "It turns out nearly the entire effect is due to two things: less smoking and less obesity. Of these, smoking has by far the biggest impact."

It's funny. Taking hot smoke into one's lungs never seemed like a good idea, or made much sense. And being around folks who smoke has always been annoying and uncomfortable. Such a nasty habit. And well, being smart about what you eat, and how much you eat, always seemed like a good bet too. Picky, choosy, eating sensibly, leaning to healthy, organic, primarily plant-based, sustenance, sure. Eat less, move more.

Simple, common-sense, easy to follow rules for better living. I mean, like, right?! Who knew?! So yeah, where we live, there are very few smokers to be found. They stick out like a particularly retrograde tribe. Furtively puffing away in isolation. 

And, well, in our hood there are an uncountable number of runners, yoga practitioners, tai chi folks, bicylists, roller bladers, skate-boarders, wind surfers, swimmers, power-walkers, etc. And there is an infinite variety of excellent, healty-fare, restaurants dotted & dashed around town. So yeah, an active populace with excellent food choices around every corner. An abundance of abundance.

I think of that Herman Melville idea from one of his merchant sailing books: Be careful who you choose to hang out with. If you live up the in crow's nest, or down the in the hold, you will be defined by what you choose to do and who you choose to hang with. Our pocketbook and bank account may say, "down in the hold," but our hearts, heads & spirits declare: "Crow's nest, baby!" 

Clarity in simplicity.

The Way of the Way...

"It's only going one way."

That's a line my friend and I often kick around in conversation. Funny. We marvel at the twists and turns of our lives. Decisions made. Pivot points. Roads taken, and roads not taken. We are sort of surprised at how we ended up together, and  find ourselves living in the right now. It didn't seem like a plan, it seemed like we sort of stumbled along into a life. Life is long, life is short. Life is life. Still, weirdly, at the same time, it all sort of seems like fate. Maybe an arbitrary fate? You can imagine other scenarios. Other decisions. Other roads. But you are left with what happened, and what is. Could it really have gone any other way? Were we always fated to do what we did? Is there a long chain of causality, that is certain and in a way fixed?  Or is life and the choices we made just certain takes on a vast sea of possibilities? Do we roll  the dice every moment? Is everything luck & chance, and our present condition just one of an infinite number of possible outcomes?  Is everything always up for grabs? Moment to moment? Or was there only, inevitably one way forward? I mean, fuck, that's a heady topic for a morning post. I mean who knows?! Welcome to another day in paradise...

"Hello Wig!"

Up early. Rough night. Wrestling with demons. Flick the radio on as I fire up the coffee-maker. The BBC radio program asks me: "What would you do if you had to shave your head?" That's a good one. Seems like the least of our worries, but, well, actually, every day is bound by: "Is it a good haird-day or a bad hair-day?" So, yeah, well, I guess in the face of mandatory "head-shaving,"  the plain, conscise and clear answer would be,"Hello wig!" Improvise. Maintain. Deal with the deal. That's life...

As Real As You Possibly Can Be...

If there is Hope it resides in reality, in the real, in the day to day, the common folk, the simple moments, moments of clarity, the smiles of a friend, the sparks from a friendly eye, the kind, genuine laughter escaping from the lips of those you love.

The small gestures, the tiny kindnesses. 

Hope, it is there, alive in our hearts and heads. It doesn't need to be grand, in fact, that's a fool's game, better to keep your Hopes close to the vest, close to the ground. And for god's sake: Damn the  Fear.  You know, Fuck Fear. That is "Dead Man Walking."  No way to live a life.

Hope. It's okay to Hope. Sure there is the chance Hope gets crushed, but that's just the way the cookie crumbles. It's best to be real. As real as you possibly can be, and damn the torpedoes. That is the way to a certain glory.

Counter-Programming, Not So Counter...

Counter-programming. 

So yeah, there is the historical/cultural/social/political zeitgeist we all swim in every day. Can't stop the swirl of news & madness. We are all captives of a certain time and place. Some of us just want to "get along," but it's clear that in the Human realm that just isn't the way. It's a war out there. There are real, deadly, bloody, totally tragic shooting-wars unfolding across the planet. In my life-time, there has always been a war, or multiple wars, usually raging somewhere across the globe. The death and destruction affects us all. We are definitely all connected. Human, and a bit fucked up, at war with each other by any means.

War is war. 

Politics is war. 

Culture is war. 

Love is war. 

The legal system is war. 

There are always adversaries, competing interests, good actors vs bad actors. Those who want to pull us together, those who want to pull us apart. "Why can't we all just get along?" Who knows? We just can't. We don't see eye to eye. We want different things. We have competing visions and beliefs. As it was once said in a famous black & white movie about war: "Everyone has their reasons." Right. Even if they aren't reasonable reasons.

You can't make everyone see it your way. That's just a reality. So yeah, counter-programming. I have been reading a 555 page poem by Lord Byron written between 1819-1824. It's quite entertaining. I thought it was going to be a bear to read, and a real slog, but actually it's quite a fun and witty read. The poem has just taken a major turn from Love to War. And it all rings so true, and familiar.

I suppose the real eye-opener. Humans are Humans. Same flaws, passions, madnesses across time and place. Consumed with Love and War. Always. That is the Human Story. Seems it has always been the theme. We have different clothes and new gadgets, but the Human Heart, the Human Story, Comedy & Tragedy, has a consistent and persistant thru-line. It turns out that my counter-programming, isn't so counter after all. Love & War and everything in between. Yep.

Lessons from Dog-Land...

I spend lots of time with dogs. Some days more time with dogs than people. I must admit, I'm getting a bit wild, unkempt & feral myself. A bit "doggie."

So what's the vibe? What are the lessons from dog-land? 

Attention. We all want attention. And treats. And a bit of rough-housing. Truth be told we want to be the center of the Universe, but maybe we know it's a foolish impulse? Too much going on. We are easily distracted by... well... pretty much everything...  passing cars, squirrels, rabbits, other dogs, humans on bikes and scooters, a heavy wind, a mild rain, a sunny day. We really, really, really want to get up-close and personal with a squirrel or a rabbit. It's the holy grail of dog-land.

Attention and distraction are big in our world.

Meals are party time. Treats rule. We will eat just about anything. Don't ask. Yikes. We are loyal, (feed me, give me treats, be nice to me, and I will follow you any & every where), and consistent. We like a varied routine. We love to walk. We live in the moment, from moment to moment. There is a bit of ZEN in every dog. We are easily satisfied. Tend to be happy, feisty, we might worry a bone, but really not worried about anything, except maybe being left out of the action. Home alone. Ruff.

All the dogs I hang with are "fixed," (ouch!), so sex is off the table. Wow. A big past-time off the menu. Opens up other possibilities. Digging holes. Getting dirty. Sniffing. Always be sniffing. Peeing on fire-hydrants. Yes. It's a thing. Marking a trail, one pee at a time: "Kilgore was here."

Enthusiastic for living. Sometimes we just want to roll around on the ground. Or wrestle with the leash. Or leap and bark at the world for no particular reason. Run. Play. Eat. Sleep. Scratch & yowl. A dog's life.

Wrestlemania for the Politcally Inept...

Yes. I am happy & gratified that a very large, toxic, loud, supremely annoying fat man, prone to lies both big and small, has to sit in a courtroom and face the music. There is a long list of very serious charges he must answer for in New York City. Karma, baby!

It seems it is only within the four walls of a courtroom, with a no-nonsense Judge and a process for sitting a jury, that toxic-fat boy and his unrelenting river of bullshit, finally meets common sense, decency & gravity. The rule of law. Of course, outside the courtroom chaos rules. Everywhere that man goes it's bullshit, lies, stupidity, meanness, racism, misogyny, a shit-show, a clusterfuck. Wrestlemania for the politically inept.

The TV (network & cable) is a stupid-making machine. No doubt. Do yourself a favor and turn that shite off! Everything becomes a TV show. A very stupid, corrosive TV show.

You know, if you wrestle with a toxic, muddy, pig, you too will be slimed. That has been a theme for what seems like forever. A rule for  a better life: Avoid the toxic-muddy pig at all costs. One hopes America will finally turn away from the madness, ignorance and chaos. Is that asking for too much?

The only hope for toxic fat boy? They somehow luck into seating a toxically-sociopathic cretin on the jury. Certainly the facts, the evidence, the truth of the matter resides on the prosecution side. No one seriously seems to be really entertaining the idea that the man is innocent. Even his attorneys aren't making that case. It's all about "how dare they" treat my client like a common criminal?

I mean, truth be told, my mind is made up. I could not be fair and impartial. Guilty as fuck bubbles up in my head.

You know, presumed innocent, until proven guilty. Right. It's the way it's supposed to work, but knowing what we know, you know, we know. Safe to say, there is not an innocent cell or bone in the that tubby body. No way. Karma is a rock. 

"The Lonliness of the Long Distance Runner" - Alan Sillitoe

"It's not politics, it's pathology."

I'm quoting myself this morning. Is that twisted?

Funny how a segment of our population has gone over the cliff: "A mind is a terrible thing to waste." 

I think one of the most significant and useful University classes I ever took was "Abonormal Psychology." My post-graduate studies of the abnormal in action seem be validated and roll out every damn day. It is easy to see the madness in others. Maybe less easy to see the madness in ourselves. But we can try.

Human Beings are a gnarly lot for sure: complicated, contradictory, disappointing, infuriating, You know, the tricky monkeys. Often we trick ourselves with the stupidest shite.

So yes, we end up with the Humanity of it all: Tragedy, Comedy, and Insanity. Some days you really want to extricate yourself from the fucking crazy herd. "In it, but not of it." But, of course, that is impossible. 

It's like that song: "Stuck in the Middle with you..." Yikes.

Perfectly Human...

"Trying for Zen Perfection."

Let's dissect this sentence. 

1. There is no trying. There is doing, or not doing. Also doing well, doing badly, doing middiling. 

2. Zen. It descends upon us. Like the rain, or like sun & moon beams. You can't conjure it up on demand.

3. Perfection? Ah, well, maybe a bit of a fool's paradise, a mythical chimera flashing just out of reach? Especailly in the human realm.

Being perfectly human would contain multitudes of contradiction, flaw, foible, nonsense. 

Is the Universe perfect? Maybe. Since it contains everything.  I mean who is big enough to  challenge that idea or quibble?

A flower, a mosquito, a river, a star. Sure, glimpses of perfection, reflected in the human eye. That's as close as you can get.

Sisyphus: Guitar on Shoulder, Pushing a Boulder...

Played a r&r show last night in a dive bar. Big chaos guitar jam at the end, four electric guitars cranked to the limit, and one electric bass holding down the low-end, playing up a storm on Neil Young's  "Down by the River," & "Rocking in the Free World." Two great guitar-based songs, epic chords and changes. Total raunchy, gory, greasy, r&r glory. It was incredibly exhilarating to play, not sure how great it was to listen to. Oh well. So it goes. 

Came across this quote from Roger Daltry about playing a live show with The Who back in the late sixties, early 70's, The Who in peak form, (prime example #1: "Live at Leeds" - 1970), probably one of the greatest live acts (I  am talking about when Entwistle & Moon were still alive), ever to grace a stage...

"A bum note and a bead of sweat."

Yes. After all the noise, hurly-burly, epic glory, razor sharps riffs, overwhelmingly powerful major & minor chords, next morning you wake up in a bit of a haze. Hey, how was the gig? Well, basically "a bum note and a bead of sweat." 

Think Sisyphus with a guitar on his shoulder, pushing a boulder...

Reality? Yes. Certainly.

"However, this view does not align with reality."

Short line. Big type. 

I came across this sentence this morning. It is in reference to an upcoming trial in NY. It's not necessary to get into the details. Rest assured, it will be a circus and a freak-show, but also a reckoning. At least, that's how it appears to me, if evidence, facts & reality still hold. You know, sort like gravity & common sense.

I suppose it's a big IF, but I throw my lot in with that certain reality.

Funny. That sentence could be a judgement of so much of our Social/Political/Cultural zeitgeist at the fricking moment. The Relentlessly annoying BABEL of rabble-rousing voices floating views on pretty much every issue and event.  Views that do "not align with reality."

It a noisy Terrordome of Shite.  We can tune it out. Keep our heads, keep our feet on the ground, keep our eyes on the prize, lean to the light and damn the torpedoes. "Give me something real."

The Street/The Mansions of the Mind...

Dichotomies. Life: filled with them. 

Up/down, Good/Evil, Love/Hate, Light/Dark, Hope/Despair, you know, the list goes on forever. That is the Universe we live in. We are always traversing, juggling, maneuvering and wrestling with dicotomies.

My days: I live with dogs, I live like a dog. A bit feisty, feral, unkempt, wild, feet firmly knocking down the dirty boulevard. Turns out I'm best hanging with the animal kingdom: dogs, cats, birds. Domesticated & wild. They rise to greet me, I kneel down to greet them.

At the same time, living in the lap of luxury. The finest places money can buy. Living in other people's homes for extended stays. Just a guest, a visitor, a caretaker, a hanger-on.  But also the lucky gent who gets  to spend lots of time at perfectly appointed, tricked-out, exotically-gorgeous estates. A prime place of pride & priviledge, for sure.

Yes. The street/the mansion.  Two opposed realms. Alive in both. Super-weird, and well, really, kind of cool.