Spirit, Vibe, Charisma, Energy...

Ha. Recently watched a football game. Thinking about football.

Fundamentally a simple game: tossing around, running with, and fighting over, an air-inflated pigskin on a field of grass. Big men colliding and piling on each other at top speed. Two teams seeking to get into the opposing team's end zone.  There are lots of designed plays, strategies, stats, probabilities. The simpicity of the game is stoked with football philosophies, complexly-designed systems, and scientific approaches.

Yes. A very weird game for sure. On the one hand, it all seems like over-amped silliness. On the other hand, a microsm of life, death and everything in between.

America's game. Top athletes, big paychecks, "the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat," joy, pain, winning & losing. And of course, it is all a very big business too. Every stadium filled with over-hyped, emotionally-over-wrought fans, plus millions of tv viewers lounging on their couches across the land.

Still, there are mysteries at the heart of the whole grand enterprise. I was thinking about those nebulous, hard to define, invisiblly-strange concepts that seem to be part of every play of every game.

Thinking of Momentum, Pocket Presence, Leadership, Football smarts, Anticipation, Confidence, Luck, Chaos, Gumption, Toughness, Discipline.

You know, those amazing, ephemeral & nebulous mysteries: Spirit, Vibe, Charisma, Energy. 

Yes, indeed, a weird game. Weird, like life, you know, which is weird too.

"He himself was nothing." - E. Jean Carroll

How to break a Troll? That's easy. You call them out, you troll a Troll. You bait them, provoke them to do and say stupid things and you reveal their inner moral hollow-ness, their complete nothing-ness. There is a pretty famous, ubiquitious Ugly personality that sort of dominates our politcal discourse, especially in the right-wing-lunatic-sphere. You know that fricking, crazy MAGA-verse?

Well. It's interesting. You can sense a momentum-shift happening right now. That over-sized stupid person and bully recently lost in a courtroom in New York, and it's clear that it is the beginning of the end for that super-ugly person.

It's also quite funny, gratifying and appropriate that it is a woman who made the first deep wound (83 million smackers), to that super-vulnerable, blimp-sized, male-ego.

E. Jean Carroll tells America that Trump is nothing:

 "He was a phantom. It was the people around him who were giving him power. He himself was nothing. It was an astonishing discovery for me. He's nothing. We don't need to be afraid of him. He can be knocked down."

Yes. Indeed. The end of the bully. One solid punch and whole edifice of hate and stupidity comes crashing down.  It will be quite interesting, and fun, to watch this all unravel. The Bully lives in a glass castle, and it is totally vulnerable, easily cracked and crashed. Once folks realize he is not a scary clown, just a sad, pathetic one, the whole game of  bullying-dominance vanishes. Maybe it will be the knowing laugher of women that finally evaporates that toxic dude? I am predicting we are entering the "warp-speed-phase" of the MAGA King's total dissolution. It's been a long time coming. "Let it Come Down." 

Peak Pottersville...

Superbowl 2024 is set. Taylor Swift's boyfriend's team is going to Las Vegas for the big game. Yep. Remember "It's a Wonderful Life?"  USA is no longer Bedford Falls, it's all Pottersville, baby!

In two weeks, every casual and devoted Football Fan will be armed with a cool, hi-tech, device in the palm of their hand that will allow them to bet on every play of the Big Game in Sin City, AND, that same device will connect them to all their money in all their bank accounts. One little click. A Casino in every hand. That's America, Baby! 

Super Bowl 2024, it's going to be the biggest day of gambling in the History of Humanity. We have reached "peak Pottersville!" No doubt. Add to it all the Toxic Stew of Football Fandom: Easy access to $, junk food, binge-drinking,  thumb-clicks away from any crazy-ass bet the book-makers can concoct, the over-amped, emotionally stimulating kick of watching king-sized, super-aggressive athletes beating the absolute shit out of each other. Every play a possibly life-altering, forever-maiming, and totally-disfiguring, car-crash.

America's Game. 

Ha. A Humble Pilgrim meekly asks: "What could possibly go wrong?!" AND "What of Zuzu's Petals?"

Also of course, there is an entertaining side-show, and celebrity drama: the Lunatic Right-Wing is having a hissy-fit and a total meltdown. Taylor Swift, rich, powerful, charismatic, seemingly-progressive woman, and her boyfriend, the big, hulking tight end on the Kansas City Chiefs, a spokesperson, and commercial endorser for the Pfizer Covid VAX, are the absolute, best, blue-tinged, power couple of enlightened "wokeness."  A strong woman, a sensbile, public-health-caring man. It is all so provocative and mad-making for the lunatic right.

They think Taylor is a Satanic & Witchy force.  Ha. Ha. Ha. So, so funny. I won't be betting on the game, I expect to just take in all the chintzy, cheap & glittering Vegas spectacle with calm, cool and skeptical eyes. Might be a good game, who knows? For sure it will be The Apotheosis of the Big $.

"You are the Authority... of You..."

One of my obessions: Headphones. I own a few pair of excellently-constructed, and great-sounding headphones. Not too expensive, all of them are on the lower realm of the price range. They all look, sound, and feel, quite different. They are all great in their own ways. But if you look and listen hard enough you realize each pair of headphones opens up their own little sonic Universes.

It's a rabbit hole, for sure. I do lots of serious close listening. Put on a pair of headphones and a unique sonic Universe is revealed.

You want to know which pair of headphones are the best? Ha. Aye, there's the rub. 

I recently had an email exchange with one of my favorite headphone makers, I asked a question about two different models, wondering if there were "sonic differences."  The anwswer was maybe obvious, slightly confounding, and pretty much perfect:

"You’re asking the question we get asked all the time and feel we can’t answer. How do we quantify a subjective topic? What we hear and our preferences differ from person to person, making it impossible for me to tell you what you’ll hear. Then determining if the difference is worth the cost can’t be done."

Yes. Reminds me of that Philip K. Dick sentence: "You are the authority." I would add two extra words to that idea: "You are the authority, of you."

Go to a headphone site such as DIY-Audio-Heaven and you will quickly get lost in soundwave charts, and detailed descriptions of features and functions of all kinds of headphones. And you quickly, inevitably drop into a knotty, gnarly, mystifying philosophical discussion: Are you a Subjectivist, An Objectivist, or an Inbetweenist?

Right. Kind of interesting. No clear anwsers. The more you look, the more you see, the more you hear, the less you know. And you realize it's not all about the headphone, it's also about you. You end up in your own little hall of mirrors. You can read expert opinions, you can study all the fancy, colorful charts, you can try to be a bit "scientific" in your studies, but finally, definitely, you have to put your headphones on for yourself, and you are left with your own head, your own pair of ears, your own internal, & personal experience of what you hear when those soundwaves start to bounce around inside your body. You are your very own uniquely-you instrument of perception. You, and only you, get to decide what's what. Objectively speaking, it is all quite a subjective thing, indeed.

This topic totally resonates with me, and rattles around with complex reverberations. I imagine that it opens up into all realms of my life. Life, and all the phenomena contained within it is what you see, what you feel, what you hear, what you think, what you know, and really, what don't know too.  Wisdom, it seems to me, is to know that ulitmately what you know is quite limited, bounded by the vast sea of what you really don't know at all. And of course, you don't know what you don't know. A conundrum right there.  A deep lesson in reality and perception. A lesson played out in your own head and body. Headphones, a heady topic, no doubt. You are left with questions, lots of questions, for instance: What do you hear? How does it feel? Do you like it?

A Good Day, A Better Tomorrow...

When I heard the news that  E. Jean Carrol had been awarded 83.3 million dollars in her defamtion case win vs. the Very-Super-Toxic Bully. I rejoiced. Is that bad of me? I say: "Nah."

 

What is that delicious word in German? Schadenfruede: "the experience of pleasure, joy, or self-satisfaction that comes from learning of or witnessing the troubles, failures, pain, or humiliation of another."

Yes. Indeed. I have no problem with celebrating the humiliation of the Bully. I think it's a wonderful thing. I must admit I despise those who lie with impunity, those who are cruel to others, those tin-pot strong-men who lord over others, the narcissistic egotists, (see previous post), folks determined to make the world a more dysfunctional, chaotic, and more hate-filled place.

As Dylan once sang: "don't hate nothing except hatred."

So, yes, there is "joy in mudville." When will the conservative media (oops, sorry, nothing "conservative" about them, think: the 24/7 lunatic, right-wing noise machine),  stop lying to their viewers, when will they tell the truth that their favorite Toxic Bully is a multi-times loser? That he is on an epic losing streak, and this latest judgement against him is a harbinger of more judgements to come? Turns out courtrooms in America are not places conducive to lies, bluster, and bullying.

I flashed on that old motto from Superman: "Truth, Justice and the American Way." Yes. But I think the updated motto is even better, you know a little more open-ended: "Truth, Justice and a Better Tomorrow." Sure. Sometimes truth, justice and goodness prevail. That's worth celebrating...

Joker & Trump... Yep... A Sickness...

Speaking of "slogs" (see previous post), I recently watched "Joker" (2019). A "psychological thriller," depicting the origin story of the infamous DC Comics bad guy. Joaquin Phoenix gives an incredibly detailed performance in the title role, and he totally transforms his body, and his physicality in his portrayal.

It is such an ugly and nihilistic movie. No hint of redemption or goodness. It delves deep into the psyche of a very disturbing and disturbed human being. It realistically portrays a narcisistic, depressed, depraved, self-loathing, suicidal, homcidal, and deeply afflicted personality.

It points a crooked finger to the idea that neglect, cruelty, pain, abuse, and suffering are passed down from one generation to the next; that "monsters," are not born, but made. And really, if you look hard enough, there are no monsters amongst us, just deeply sick & psychically-deformed human beings who do monstrous things.

Not light entertainment. Watching the movie is like watching a very bad car-crash with multiple casualites. What compelled me to watch to the end? Joaquin's performance. Really I blame him. He is one of my favorite actors and he is totally amazing and convincing.

Why do I mention all this? Why didn't I just take a hot shower aftewards and just forget seeing this black-hole of a movie?

It has haunted me ever since. I do think the movie has broader resonance in our current world, it is a great depiction of Trump & Trumpism. Really. I actually got a chill reading this sentence from Wikipedia: "On November 16, 2019, it was screened at the White House for President Donald Trump, who reportedly enjoyed the film."

I wonder if he recognized himself in Joaquin's portrayal? Or is he just too blind to his own depravity, too self-aborbed, and too clueless?  I am thoroughly convinced this movie is actually a great psychological depiction & explanation for Trump. Why is he so popular with a segment of our society? Unfortunately, sadly, the MAGA cult sees their own hatred, and self-loathing, reflected in him. Trumpism isn't politics, it is pathology.

OMG. 

Joker & Trump. They both wear make-up and color their hair. Lots of similiar personality traits: self-loathing, narcissitic, very un-funny, deplorable, mentally-deformed, full of hate and revenge, a seething psyche that wants to inflict pain & suffering on anyone better (which they believe deep in their hearts is everyone), than themselves, one who hates anyone not deformed by their own hate too. A totally bloated , blimp-sized, ego, a scared weakling & coward, with a small and totally crushed psyche. You can see the type: racists, bullies, dictators, authoritarians, haters of all stripes.

There are differences. 

Joker was a deprived child, Trump was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. One, of course, is fictional, the other one is very, very real. Both characters are big, terrible, brutally-unsympathetic babies. Yikes. Shite. 

Yes, some people just want to light the world on fire to watch it burn. Their self hatred, fear & loathing is projected on eveyone else. That is MAGA.  It explains Fascism too. A movement of hate-filled creeps wanting to wreak revenge on civilization and those more civilized. The attitude can be summarized as: "I am unhappy, disregarded, under-appreciated, held in contempt by others. I want to destroy everything, bring it all down in a heaping pile of ash. And I will blame those 'others'  for all the ills of the world." 

Yes. Indeed. This often plays out in our Pop Culture thru books, movies, comics, etc. Rage-induced revenge sagas, and bleak, all-encompassing, apocalyptic dystopias.  It's a persistent, ubiquitous genre of trauma & drama. This particular film of horror was a world-wide box-office success. Yikes.

Amazingly, we actually, accidentally, with a little help from Russian diinfo, put one of these very deformed, mortally-sick personalities into the White House once, and FUCK, he wants in again. 

At the end of the film Joker is standing on a flaming automobile, surrounded by a mob of deranged clowns. I couldn't help flashing on Trump, the MAGA hordes, and the attack on the Capitol on January 6th, 2021. The movie now reads like a premonition, and a prophecy of that very dark day.

WTF.  It all points to a sickness in our national psyche too. Dare I say it? We can all do so, so much better.  Yikes. 

The Necessity of the Slog...

Slogging.

Nature teaches us. "You must slog thru..." 

Yes. Indeed. The seasons all have their lessons. The present season of snow, ice, & freezing rain is a valuable and gnarly teacher. If you must navigate thru the streets, on the sidewalks, across the pathways, you must take infinite care. Each step is a potential calamity. "Every step counts."  Sounds prosaic. And I suppose it is, but it also critical to making it thru in one piece. Any fall can be deadly.

Slipping, sliding, faltering, catching yourself in the midst of a fall, well, that my friend, is just brave adventure. Getting thru the day without falling, that is the very definition of success. You can take pleasure in the simple goodness of simple things.  "I didn't fall today."

Instead, a healthy slog; slow, determined, a bit clumsy, homely, dull & boring. So earthbound. Back home, strip off all the garments made cold & wet. Happy to be alive and whole in a warm kitchen, the radiators singing. Counting my blessings. Made it without hurting myself. All hail the necessary slog.

Yes... Against a Mighty Wind...

Ha. You have to do a little digging to find out what really happened last night in the New Hampshire Republican Primary. You have to work a bit to get past the headlines, the click-bait, and the talking-head blabbering of the politcal pundits.

Turns out the MAGA King is actually a very weak Presidential Candidate. He isn't even all that popular in Republican cirlces at least in N.H.  If you want to track with reality on the ground, you are going to have to do some thinking, searching & swimming against the media river of shite. It's a job, a mission. Essential.

Here's my morning click-bait:  "...  there's a segment of right-leaning swing voters who just don't want to vote for a rapist/fraud/traitor."

Peter Baker, NYT:

"Trump claims again that he won in 2020. But an incumbent with a challenger scoring more than 40% against him in NH would be seen as wounded and weak. (Ask LBJ or Bush 41.) Instead, Trump claims a big victory because he's not actually an incumbent even though he plays one on TV."

Reuters take is good too: "Donald Trump's victory in the New Hampshire Republican primary on Tuesday masks weakness with independents and moderate voters that could be a warning sign for his likely general election matchup against Democrat Joe Biden, exit poll data and analysts suggest."

Yes. It's gonna be a long, muddy, slog thru lots of shite this year. An overflowing river of shite, a lot of over-hyped hubbub, and brain-numbing, hurly-burly. But I do believe cooler heads and warmer hearts will come to the fore. You know Democrats, Independents and Moderates are gonna rise up and have their say. They will save Democracy. No doubt. I do believe. That's the takeaway. Amen Brothers & Sisters.

The Past...

The past. It is here now. We embody it. The past is embedded deep in our bones, our muscles, our cells. The past surrounds & envelops us. There is more past than future in our day to day. The present moment, such a slender, translucent, filment, is perched on the remnants, the architecture, the teetering stack of generations, the shadowy, floaty, ghosts of the past. The future is just a glimmering, sparkling vision dancing out on a distant horizon. The past is not dead and gone. It is alive, within us, and within everything that surrounds us. "Living in, and upon, the past, presently..."

Bad Ideas vs. Good Ideas...

An American Dictator? A bad idea.

A President with "total immunity" from prosecution for crimes committed? A really, really bad idea.

Fuck. 

The Republican Party has totally devovled into a sham and a grift of total  bad-faith, bad-action, complete shite. A bunch of cowards & lapdogs pandering and slavering over their Bulbous, Disintegrating, brain-worm-infested, MAGA Wanna Be King. 

It is a sad joke & a terrible stain on our little Democratic Experiment. 

Democracy & Free & Fair Elections? Very good ideas. 

No man or woman is above the law? Another really good idea. 

One looks on in total wonder and horror at the GOP and MAGA Zombies. How can my fellow Americans be so far out of their minds?

One thinks it must be Fear of Change, Hatred of "the other," deep in the bone Racsim, that drives those folks. So misguided, so soul-killing. What makes America Great? Diveristy, Multiculturalism, Woke-Ism, Progressivism, Free & Fair Elections, The Rule of Law, Open Minds, Open Hearts. 

America, the great human melting pot, or maybe the thriving, boiling, madly-diverse, multi-bean chili...

Crazy Year. 2024. Everything is on the table, once again. Cooler heads, warmer hearts, must prevail. We must think and vote as if Democracy itself is at stake. Because, of course, it is...

A Big Band in a Small Room...

I played guitar with my other band yesterday. This time I played my trusty old acoustic guitar. I kept my head, and I also kept my shit together. 8 musicians in a room. A really big band, a relatively small rehearsal room. We played for 2 hours. Newly-hatched songs, a few new-ish songs, and a clutch of old songs too.

It was exhilatring. Another example of the healing power of art, creativity, music and human connection. Walking into the rehearsal room, my song-writing partner and I were pretty damn tired and out-of-sorts. It's been a long, freezing cold, starkly-hard week of schlepping around in the hood. 

All of that tiredness and bad feeling vanished as soon as we started singing & playing our songs. Losing ourselves in the vibrations of the moment is just such a beautiful thing. A marvelous, soul-enriching kick.

We are lucky to have a superbly talented group of musicians who are dedicated to our cause. It's the power of the group, an energy bigger than any one of us. We pretty much soared thru the whole session. Even the brand-new songs came to life very quickly, by the second time thru, the songs started to assert themselves.  We have really developed a great rapport with this group. There is an instant connection with everyone in the room. It is easy to ignite the fire of creativity.

Afterwards, dissasembling the p.a. and packing up our gear, the deep-in-the-bone tiredness came back. We were both exhausted once again, but now there was a glow, a shiny aura surrounding us. Yes, a transendence, an exhilaration, a deep satisfaction. Yes. That is the power of doing the good work.

Mojo - Fading & Rising...

Mojo.  Sometimes it's really about mojo. Your guitar fails (see previous post), and your mojo takes a hit. You wonder if you are cursed, if your mojo is disappating, dribbling away, never to return. 

I disassembled my guitar. And then put it back together again. Funny. It seems to have "fixed," whatever was going on with that tuning machine. "How is that possible?"

Such a weird mystery. So yeah, yesterday I worked over my guitar, tightened screws, reset the action, put on a new "E" string. It all seems fine now. That nightmare scenario is already fading away. 

Just to be sure I am ordering a new set of tuning machines.  A precaution. You know, I just don't want any uncertainty. Why did that thing fail? Why is it now working? WTF? 

I can't explain it.  So, yes, a new beginning. Shiny new parts on the way. The first step in renewing one's mojo. Turns out underlying everything is mystery.  A weird & funny Universe we have here, for sure.

Nightmare of a R&R Show...

Ha. I have had that nightmare. Many nights. A panoply of circumstances. My guitar falls apart on stage. My guitar turns into a snake. I open my guitar case and my guitar is in tiny pieces. Or, I am scrambling backstage unable to locate my guitar.

Last night I lived it all on stage, in living color, in the real, with my r&r band. A well-rehearsed, well-oiled 5 man band of brothers. Our last rehearsal was epic. After that session I wrote to one of my bandmates in a text: "Maybe the best we've ever sounded?"

We were playing to a packed room. Most of the folks were there to see other bands, but still, we had a captive audience. The room was electric.  On the first note of the first song the low E string on my Telecaster went slack, I thought I had broken a string, but it turns out the tuning machine had broken.  I flailed away and noxiously low, rumbly, unmusical noises belched from my amp. It sounded really, really bad. Not a good bad.

It sent everyone else in the band off-kilter. The whole band basically went Tilt. We stumbled thru a few songs, everything was tentative and fractured. I struggled to play tunes with one less string, with strange noises still pouring out of my amp. I was not succeeding at all. Failing & falling badly. Funny. My uncertainty, my indecsion and flailing totally infected the whole band. Everyone started flailing and failing too. I could not get my guitar in tune. It was a complete mess. My in the moment thought: this is a train-wreck and I am the Conductor of Chaos.

The other guitar player in the band offered me his guitar, we traded guitars, and he jumped off-stage and put on a new string and tried to tune up my guitar. We both thought it was just a broken string, but it was not, it was a fatal, unfixable, untunable break of the tuning machine.

He decided to play my guitar with 5 strings, while I played his 6 string. Finally, the set almost complete, the last three songs, we found our footing and played a fiercely-wild, uncontrollable mini-set. It was total mayhem. I flailed away on a guitar I wasn't familiar with, totally uncomfortable, with a wider fretboard, longer strap, it just didn't sit or feel right, but I flailed away with total, crazy abandon. Fuck. Trying to banish the bad vibes and broken chords. We playled like a band of drunken wild horses with newly-discovered instruments. 

We finished with a hurricane of sound. We decided to blast thru Neil Young & Crazy Horses' song "Fucking Up." Yes. So damn fitting. It was a messy sonic explosion of fucked-up-ness. It was sort of sastifying in it's total unsastifying-ness. 

Shite. That was a show. We will remember it. The uncontolled wreckage. The unholy glory of the fuckup and the breakdown of an old guitar. Yes. My guitar needs to go to the shop. My head could use some fixing too. That was humbling and embarrassing. Nightmare realized. Yikes.

Things I tell Myself...

I tell myself...

Yeah. Live within your means. Keep your feet on the ground. Don't get too high or low. Keep calm, carry on. And, yes, live lightly, and try to muster up some grace. Lean to the light. Be gentle with yourself and with others too. Don't take things, or your self, too seriously. Everything passes. There is sadness and joy in that reality.  There are finalities and possibilities. Yes: a contradiction, a cross, and a crossroad. Oh, yeah, and "damn the torpedoes."

Does that mean I'm immune to the Life Will Crush You  (see previous post), idea? Well, no...

I have learned to do less judging of my time, and more just living it.

The last few days I have been "on the road," which for me means doing a little tour of mansions in the neighborhood. Living in other folks places of luxury and wonder. I am just a working stiff. Making a few bucks, basically/barely making it, surrounded by the riches of others. 

Very weird. Strange. Odd. 

This morning back home for awhile. Much more humble surroundings. Still, it is nice to come back to find everything in it's right place. Homely, comfy. More my own reality. I think we are all here to be ourselves to the max. Living in our truth. Heart, Head & Spirit aligned. Yes. Indeed. What else you gonna do?

Life Will Crush You...

I watched the movie Maestro, (2023) yesterday. Why was I so annoyed and out of sorts afterwards? That feeling of dipping your body and psyche into a dirty river. Made me want to take a hot shower to wash the bad vibes off. Great acting, excellent film work, a nicely-rendered biographical portrait of Leonard Berstein and his wife Felicia Montealegre Bernstein.  Bradley Cooper and Carey Mulligan were amazing as the two leads.

I don't know. The film made me think of another film, Raging Bull  (1980). Both films are shot in vivid B&W, both films depict real people, both films delve into the complexity of the complicated human thing.

Leonard Bernstein and Jake La Motta come across as very accomplished, (one a musician & Conductor, the other a brutally-driven Boxer), and deeply flawed, sometimes totally off-putting, human beings. Both acheived fame and fortune and a soul-sucking celebrity in their respective realms. Both men ended up pretty much broken & unhappy in their own unique ways. Both narratives lead one to the sad, hard-won, conclusion: LIFE WILL CRUSH YOU!

And the big, ego-driven man isn't always what he's cracked up to be.

Why did I basically hate "Maestro," and love "Raging Bull?" I can't really explain it. If you pressed me, I can't really make sense of it. Maybe I think Scorcese's film has more poetry, more violence, more exreme drama, more humor, more over the top madness, and because of that "more-ness," it's a more sastisying and cathartic experience? But I'm not totally sure.

I do think De Niro's Jake La Motta is the greater acting feat & portrayal. But no doubt, both actors transform themselves, both actors delve deep into the psyche of their tragically-flawed characters, both actors try their best to bring complexity to complicated personalities, both actors  transform their bodies, wear fake noses, you know, there's lots of similarities.

But really, I don't know. 

Maybe, finally, Maestro is really Carey Mulligan's film?  Which is a good thing. She is the character you can most closely track with, but, unfortunately, it is a sour, sad affair; Human Beings lying to themselves and others, living the lie, over a life-time of mad success, and mad failure.  For some odd reason Maestro just didn't sit well with me.  I had a long conversation with a friend, and she too found it brilliant in some ways, and deeply unsettling, in some ways too. So, you know, maybe, probably, it's a really good movie?!

Surrender...

Early morning, schlepping thru the streets in sub-zero temps. Yikes. WTF. The weather wins the day. You have to just surrender. Total surrender. Cold temps win. Nothing to do except honor the vibe of the day. What is the vibe of the day? Sub-zero, deep-freeze, crazy-ass windchill. You just have to give it up. Turning inward and staying in, the only way. Yikes.

Think: Beastly Cold...

Well... you know... the weather...

It sort of rules. Think: Extreme. It's cold. Beastly cold around here. One can only venture out for minutes at a time. One only ventures out if it's absolutely necessary. Turns out most things aren't all that necessary. So it's an indoor kind of life for awhile. Thankful that the heating system is working and there is food in fridge. Thankful one is able to cancel appointments, and rewire the day to day. Priority one, don't freeze.

This kind of weather makes living in the Heartland seem sort of silly. Why exactly do we live here? 

Plus, of course, it's kind of dangerous. Dangerously, crazily-cold. Things break down in this kind of extremity of temperature. There is an inwardness that comes to the fore. You naturally pull in, sink into your  body, retreat to the center of your head. 

You flash on that phrase, cabin fever. 

"Stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again..." - B. Dylan. You really can't go out, even if you want to go out. There's a hint of claustrophobia hanging over you like a dark & bone-chilling cloud.

The reality: lots of your hopes & dreams & actions out in the world are now on-hold. They aren't all that tangible or real or necessary, anyway. They kind of vanish in the deep-freeze. So it's all a bit humbling.  You aren't all that important, except maybe to your self. You are thrown back on simple & basic survival. Keep warm. Keep occupied. Keep calm. Carry on.

Yes. There's a lesson there. You are just a tiny entity in the face of a big, hostile reality. You can't wish it away, or spin it, or deny it. It is super damn cold, and that reality changes everything. Yes. There is a reality, a Universe of Truths, convenient, or not, that you must contend with. That is true in all aspects of your existence. Deal with the Deal that is Dealt. That's it.

Yes. Stay Off the Ledge, Keep Warm...

The truth 

does not require 

your participation 

to exist.

Bullshit does. 

— Terence McKenna

Super-deep-freeze here. The temps have plunged down to face & bone chilling levels, and well, any rational being with a choice, would stay indoors. Hunkering in can be a happy state. You are given a license to turn to your favorite diversions. Goofing off can be a strategy to survival and good living.

Fortifying myself with coffee, hot tea, oatmeal, vegetables, great music, Steely Dan's "Countdown the Ecstasy"  (1973) on the CD player this moment. Exquisite. Life-affirming.

I came across this Teri Kanefield tweet-storm this morning. It seems so on-target, something I have been noticing myself too.

Fact: The United States has been a backsliding democracy. 

Fact: We are in an information disruption. 

Because democracy requires facts and an educated population, the question is whether enough people will develop the media literacy needed quickly enough.

The invention of the printing press created the same havoc as the Internet: Suddenly people were bombarded with information in quantities they were not accustomed to, and they didn't know how to evaluate written sources. 

That's when blood libel took off.

Rage-inducing simplifications take 30 seconds to toss off. 

Laying out the explanation can take hours. People turn on the TV, get riled, and then want me to take the time to explain the reality and "talk them off the ledge." 

No more. Learn to stay off the ledge.

Yes. Staying off the ledge seems like a civic duty. Also a good strategy for staying sane. Keep your head. Keep your feet on the ground. Keep calm and carry on. Take note of the rage-inducing beast, but refuse to be consumed by it. Find some space in your head. Lean to the light. Swim towards a diamond-hard clarity. Buck up. Damn the torpedoes. Oh yeah, be sure to keep warm and cozy. It's a fucking cold world out there.

Almost Calamitous...

Clamitious imaginings.

Often one's thoughts, worries, imaginery scenarios are much more dramatic, apocalyptic, and doom-laden than the actual reality. Yesterday's post (see previous), is an excellent example. It was a sloppy weather-day: cold, messy, slushy, with powerful winds rushing across the lake. But it wasn't very apocalyptic, you know, just a somewhat nasty winter day. One of a series. If you have lived most your life in the Heartland, this kind of weather is not a surprise.

Still, it was dangerous out there. Slippery, icey, every step chancing a fall. Trees and branches were flying thru the air and crashing to the sidewalks and streets. My good friend missed getting smashed-down by a massive tree-fall by a few minutes. She sent me a picture. If that fat trunk and branch had fallen on her, it's not hard to imagine broken bones, and a cracked skull or, you know, much worse. The wrong place, wrong time opens the door to luck (good &  bad), chance, & random chaos. That's the typical day.

Anyway, it didn't go down that way. 

We both spent most of the day inside. We were in different locations, doing the same sorts of things. Warm, toasty, riding out the storm. Yes, Mother Nature had declared, "If you are smart, you will stay home." We were able to rewire the day and did just that. We called it a "snow day." Listened to music (Steely Dan, John Martyn, Neil Young), plunged into a novel, Anthony Burgess' "A Dead Man in Deptford" (1993) drank hot tea, had a nutritious meal, streamed an entertaining show "Tokyo Vice" (2022) So, yes, we made the storm work for us, we turned the day into a completely different kind of reality. It became a day of hunkering in, a day of determined leisure and casual luxury. Making it. Yes.

Life-Maker/Life-Taker...

Sweet Mother Nature. Life-maker. All that lives, emerges from her depths. She has her fierce & nasty side too. A life-taker.  She is complete: A Sweet & Cruel Mother.

Yesterday was a day of anticipation. The calm before the coming storms. A mild winter day. Flashes of sunlight, milder temps. But the day overall felt quite temporary. A day of reprieve. There were predictions of a major storm on it's way.

This morning, this richly-black and cold morning, it feels so very different. The wind, it howls. The wind is a fierce & snarling beast. It blasts across the lake, blasts thru the tree branches, there are little dagger-like spikes of water in the air. Nasty. A powerful, wild, wind. We trudge against the wind. It challenges you, freezes your skin, cuts to the bone.

We have fucked with the formula, for uncounted years Human Beings have carelessly pumped tons & tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere.  There are consequences. Reap the wild wind. Extreme weather. That is a theme we can't deny. Climate Catastrophe: stoked by Human greed & stupidity. No doubt.

This morning it is beastly out there, but just a preamble. They say it will get bad, really, really bad.  We have stocked up on provisions, brought out the heavy garments in which to enrapture ourselves. Preparing to hunker in. "Come in, she said, I'll give you, Shelter from the Storm." - B. Dylan  Yes. Indeed. The poet speaks.

At some point the weather dominates. All your Human plans, all your little comings and goings are ruled over, and dictated by, Nature's Force. All you can do is try your best to survive. Make it thru intact.

One offers up an improvised morning prayer: Dear Mother, please, don't forsake us.