All posts by paneintale

An old guy whose point of view probably means I should always have a fast horse and one foot in the stirrup.

Good or bad, thinking makes it so.

A graduate of the southern Michigan high school I attended recently found a copy of the school’s 1926 yearbook in aThrift Shop in South Carolina. When he told the owner of the shop that he wanted to send it to his and my home town’s Historical Society up there, the owner of the Thrift Shop gave it to him for free.

It contains many hand written thoughts from 1926. The Historical Society published a few of them in the newsletter I get every month. Ofthe ones in the newsletter, three spoke to me — (the Society preserved punctuation, spelling and sentence construction):

“Love is great, love is mighty, I only wish your night shirt

Was next to my nighty. Now don’t get excited or be misled,

I mean on the clothes line and not in the bed.”

“A good thing to remember a better thing to do -is to belong

To the construction gang and not to the wrecking crew.”

“Remember the word “American” ends in I can!”

Those are the sorts of thoughts and they innocently clever style that I heard and learned as describing being an American in my formative years, 1941-1951. They re-awaken and refresh me like a cool wind on a hot, muggy, air-polluted day. They are like pretty flowers growing in an opening you had not seen before in a dark forest.

Nothing in the world is good or bad, but thinking makes it so. (Shakespeare). How might we indeed bring good light into our current,national-cultural bad, narcissistic darkness if we had retained the abilities, values and simple clean morality of that long gone era! Where indeed have all the beautiful flowers of American thinking gone?

Time is up

Today HuffPost reports that Trump wants to take the US out of NATO!

Is endangering the Constitution, betrayal of the country’s security needs an act of treason?

Forget about bellowing about what an evil man Trump manifestly is. He was beyond help when he took office. Perhaps the always stuck in the mud far right Republicans haven’t noticed the grave danger to us all that Donald poses. No surprises there. They would not recognize danger to democratic government and civil liberties at all because they neither want nor have regard for them in the least.

They like to say, oh, this is just his style. That’s what Heinrich Himmler thought about his “style”.. How well did that turn our, Heinrich? Oh, I see: you had to commit suicide because your style became a burden, after you’d destroyed any civility in German life, and engineered the deaths of millions of humans you thought were sub-human.

And Donald’s style? Hmmmm: lie, cheat, subvert, undermine, deflect, intimidate and betray whenever self interest Trumps Presiential Duty. Hardly an honorable man. Is that the style description you want read as your obits, far right reactionaries? Probably yes.

When the government is being dismantled by officials who are supposed to protect and manage it, when the usual Constitutional paths to deal with criminal behavior in the President and his representatives are all being neutralized by his cronies who run the relevant agencies, when the President wants to act to take the US out of the one organization that since its inception has kept aggressive people like Putin at bay, then we’d better realize and do it awfully fast: TIME IS UP.

Putin’s voluntary Agent Orange is going to do what Khrushchev tried: bury us. But this time there will be no allies, no restraints, no help from anywhere to stop it. Donald is in over his head but thinks he is swimming. He is a very heavy nuclear bomb riding right above the engine room, waiting to go off, while thinking that will speed up the trip.

The ship has neither captain nor rudder: it is going everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. It has to be the case that other Navies would like to sink our ship before it does any more damage — all except Captain Putin that is. Better cast Agnt Orange overboard in a very very deep place, before he finally sinks the whole ship.

Choose or Perish with a Whimper

Violence is categorically unacceptable as a political tool.

  • Republicans in Power in DC:  you no longer have any dodge and you no longer have any moral standing on which to rely.  Your efforts to cobble together a governance, of, by and for nihilistic, greed driven fat cats has done what it was aimed at all along: created your own, towering Frankenstein’s monster, Agent Orange.  Now there is only one choice:  stand and be counted for demanding and acting on removal of Trump OR forever go down in the annals of history as  proven venal cowards who stood by counting their bribes as the world’s longest experiment in multicultural democracy and constitutional self government was unceremoniously dismembered.  You have already demonstrated the behaviors of venal cowardice.  Now is the time you can change that impression or confirm its reality as the prime trait of your being.
  • (Former) Friends and Acquaintances of a Conservative Bent:  I have refrained from talking sides until now.  I thought that bridges might be built.  It is clear today that your representatives and the Fool in the ‘White House do not want any bridges, nor do they have any interest in democracy or collaboration.  If you support them, do not count yourselves any more as friends of mine and do not waste my time with your blabbering drivel.
  • Undecided People:  are you deaf, dumb and blind?  What is there to mull over? the only choice now is:  support the domestic political terror or oppose it.  But note that when you support that abomination, you are supporting people whose beliefs and actions are the antithesis of the freedom to speak and act that makes your choice possible — and with enough of your support, possible for the last time.   Supporting those traitors you may well be participating in the killing of the world’s longest standing experiment in multicultural democracy, a nation that once was at the forefront of establishing government of the people, by the people and for the people across this aching globe.  Selling your soul to the devils ask traitors is never a two way bargain in which you take away anything to keep, but the devils take away your soul.  So you really want to be eternal losers?
  • Agent Orange:  the best way to deal with a devil like you is to ignore you. So I am.  Tweet on that, birdbrain!

For all but Agent Orange (he is not, never has been and never can be a President of the United States in any way but in title.  After all there is nothing to an empty suit but hot air and appearance seeing to persuade you that it is real.):   Remember these ominous words  from Pastor Martin Niemöller coming down to us from the Thousand Year Reich that lasted 13 years:

First they came for the socialists (today: Mexicans), and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist.

Then they came for the trade unionists (today: intellectuals), and I did not speak out— because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews (today: Democrats), and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

If we do nothing to stop our own bomb sending Nazis, then we are complicit in the collapse of civil democracy, then we are complicit in any harm that comes to anyone from the actions of our own bomb sending nazis.  Your collaboration born of complicity will not create a Big Bang for you, but you will do down with a whimper. No?  Just look at the pictures of Germany in late April, 1945.

Keep Your Heads Down

Who will we be as a society?   Until the bombing attacks, that was a nice academic question, professor philosophy for philosophy professors as it were.

After today no observant, rational person should see our time now as anything except the beginning of a long period of testing.

I have not obsessed on the news about the bomb attempts to kill Democrat party leaders.  I have not listened ad infinitum to the 24-7 news:   so much of it is biased, right or left, despite the efforts of honest, hard working, deep digging journalists..  Politically biased news has been in the US since colonial times, when newspapers actually invented stories to blacken the reputations of politicians they did not like.  And that still goes on today.

The one possible exception I know of would be World War Two in Europe.  Reporters  like Walter Cronkite, Eric Sevareid, Andy Rooney, Martha Gellhorn, Bill Mauldin, Ernie Pyle et al risked and in Pyle’s case lost their lives too send unedited stories back to the US.   Yes they were competing with other reporters, yes they were pressured to get competitive stories, yes some were forbidden to go on the front lines (Cronkite for instance, flew on missions with the 8th Air Force despite having been expressly prohibited).  They knew, however, that reality would be more interesting than window dressing,.  They wanted the public to know of the courage of those young pilots, navigators, gunners etc who flow into the 20 mm armed teeth of ME 109s and FW 190s, unable to turn, dive, maneuver, dodge.

After these people retired and passed on, journalism in the US returned to its own inglorious bashing and slandering traditions.  Both sides.

I say a pox on both their houses and choose to stand back and watch a bit before reacting, if I even do react..  I’ve heard the talking heads cry fire in the theater one too many times.  I need to  let the PR wave wash up, dissipate and then judge.

In this case, however,  I do not need to stand back,.

The chicken has come home to roost.  The day of testing our will to remain democratic has arrived.

In a country that puts up with a vile, lying, foul mouthed, easily criminal brainless bully like Agent Orange, who regularly incites to violence and is a model of hate and intolerance for our youth, what else could you expect?

In a society that blithely accepts the self serving PR nonsense from the film and computer games industries that movies and computer games do not teach their users anything at all,  what else could you expect?

In our remaining public debate forum where a large minority of our population really believes that there can be alternative facts in any situation, what could we expect but this?

In a country that has no reverence for life, shown by its failure to recognize the inborn right of every citizen to the best healthcare the society can offer, what else could you expect?

In the culture, alone on this planet, which believes so deeply in the myth of the rugged, self starting individual therefore finds little need to offer the safety nets and civil protections of community.  We give ourselves NSD:  Neo-Social Darwinism.  In that land, as was the case in NS Germany,  you must expect embedded violent behavior glorified into a virtue.  And of course, the quintessential adolescent behavior, is violence.  No?  How many armies induct older men into their ranks of trained killers?  How many armies teach their soldiers about all men having been born equal, about moral rights to the sanctity of the body,to safety+shelter+food+meaningful work?  Do we have examples in history of what this does to a society?  See the movie, Before the Fall, about the SS Napoli schools in Nazi Germany.  What does it mean for us that we now openly proclaim the military to have our brightest and best?

Why is it that Europeans are frightened of, repelled by but not surprised by American violence?

It is simple:  it is part of human nature which needs controlling and channeling.  No?  Watch the movie, Look Who’s Back.  We do that because that is what we have rewarded, massaged, developed and built on all the steps that lead to violence as politics  —  all the good words about bringing democracy to the poor, downtrodden masses and pictures of  soldiers giving candy to kids whose homes we have just destroyed notwithstanding.

We are the world’s prime Nation of Violence.  Politics by violence is only we Americans, turning what we have taught ourselves onto ourselves for once.  his is not the beginning of the  beginning of social warfare as a means of governance.  It is simply the debut of it in politics here.

Keep your heads down, there will be more.

 

Carpe Diem and Memento Mori

I walk with Roxy each day in the local municipal Cemetery.

It started out because anywhere else, our self absorbed fellow citizens walk with their dogs off leash.. And the do it wherever they please. I suspect that many of them really get a kick out of scoffing at the leash laws right in front of all the signs that say, All dogs on leash all the time.

It is tempting to skewer that behavior with the long thorns of acidic sarcasm and wicked wit. Let me just dismiss that path by saying that we are merely seeing another manifestation of the heads in the sand, I’m entitled Unites States of Narcissism. It is our culture now.

i was struck by the quiet in the cemetery. Expecting to be put off by being around dead people, I was surprised. No smell of rot. No hands reaching up out of the grave to grab Roxy and pull her, screaming, back down undergroud. No apparitions being exhaled like thin smoke by the grave. Not a thing from Hollywood at all. Just quiet and grey stones in varying stages of wear stuck at tottering angles, like uneven teeth in an old man’s mouth, On brown grass. Gothic trees reaching with concentration camp limbs silently to something we cannot see, lording their powerful shadowed presences over us lesser mortals.

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Nancy had found this place after having been frightened by dogs off lead while walking Roxy also. She had urged me to go, but I was reluctant. Why?

We had made a memorial to our three beloved German Shepherds Zora, Bruno and Kaiser. All three died in our house on the mountain with us right by their sides. I took to heart what Butch, our deceased Schutzhund trainer had said was his moral commitment to his GSDs: he would make certain that the last thing any one of them saw on this earth was his loving face. Amen. Me too.

We had found a cross shaped piece of wood, the day after Bruno died, on a spot in the woods where he loved to lie. More than coincidence, random chance?  I stained it, found rocks and spray painted them gold, and made a little memorial mound on that spot. I loved to go there, sit on the bench I’d made of cinderblocks and boards, remember them while loving the beauty of the woods and feeling, still achingly sorrowful for their absence, grateful for their lives.

On the last night we were in that house, a really perfect cool clear night on last March 29-30, we took the urns with their ashes, and spread them in our woods memorial chapel.  I read a farewell passage and prayer we had written for the occasion. We did the same at all their favorite outdoor spots.

That was supposed to have tied off the loose ends of grief. It did not. It did not because it was aimed,ever so subtly, at relieving me, at least, of my grieving for them — which I still am doing and most likely will do until the day when I die too. I had not gotten the message.

The cemetery is not colorful, and the plastic flowers or wilted real ones just emphasize by contrast the grey, colorless ness of a whole bunch of old and new graves. It is clear to me that there will always be loose ends, that I could well be one of those headstones one day, and at 76, not too far off.   My memorial spot back up on the mountain– well, it was not an acceptance of life on life’s terms.  And that was a well meant mistake, an act of American pretend.  It was a way to hang on.  You cannot hang onto anything gone from this world, it’s like trying to grab and hold a chunk of The Present.

What’s left? For me what’s left is the realization that this life, which seems so hard and sturdy with its atoms and molecules and thumbs that hurt when hit with my hammer, is just an illusion.  When you cannot stop the show and cannot hold onto the present, how can it be otherwise?  A glorious, beautiful, super ultra high definition movie which we crate as we act out our roles.    A moving feast.  What a theater, what a chance to grow!

So: Memento mori–remember that I too must die.  And I’ve discovered that in doing that, I find much much more of rich joy in that ephemeral elusive thing we call the present.  Heavens, today is a great day to die on!  I now know that native American wisdom to be a statement of gratitude for reality, not a morbid preoccupation with Holllywood’s contorted view of death and dying.

Thank heavens for my cemetery walks.  I have my beloved Roxy with me, sometimes my dear, patient, loving and long suffering Nancy —  and being there above ground provesI’ve got one more day on which to enjoy the abundance of God’s earth. Carpe diem and memento mori.

Time to be counted.

It is hard to imagine that most Americans do not want this maelstrom of immorality in government to stop.  It is hard to believe that we think this is just another administration — a bit prone to intemperate thoughts and actions, but still just another one.

How can anyone not see the obvious?  This is a disaster, from which we can already recover only with years of effort.  And there may be years of the same ahead of us.

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state of the Trump and See+Hear No Evil Congress union

The acrimony, hate, deception, manipulation, outright lying, etc is not resolving anything, except perhaps our nation’s moral traditions.  And they are being resolved into the dust bin.  Lets face the only fact which really counts:  damage to our reputation, our economy, our cohesion, our foundations has already been accomplished.  The train wreck has already started.  It is only a question of how bad it will be before we can move again.

Those behind this collapse have unending financial assets to fuel their assault on American democracy.  They can do nothing else:  they are driven by morally empty selves which they try to fill with lucre  But it just pours through.  So,  having found that money cannot fill a soul, but believing in the self-justifying Gospel of Greed, they, now want the asset behind the money:  power.

In more of their frantic grasping in which nothing can fill their need to be better and therefore have an identity, They have bought legislatures, governors, Representatives, Senators, Presidents, federal department heads, state administrators, local administrators and more.  They have contorted the demographic maps of the United States to disenfranchise their opponents and those who are not WASPs.  They have bought propaganda which has taught our increasingly less educated fellows utter nonsense: that people, not guns do not kill people, that liberal traditions are inconsistent with Christianity and democracy, that might makes right and therefore we must wage war, that other nations are “shitholes” (do they ever watch Amazing Race?), that the main problems are first  the existence of the Federal Government, second Muslims, third Mexicanss, fourth liberals and finally the taxes they have to pay.  They have bought the whole nation almost, lock, stock, and barrel.  Despite the very obvious fact that it does not work, they will continue to try to own and control everything they can until their focus on position, power, status and prestige blinds them and they get fatally bliindsided.

The failure of democracy is not something we have to avoid, it is hair-close too being a fait accompli.  All we can do with our present catastrophe is limit its damage and try to hasten its implosion.

Acrimony, partisan political warfare, hate-mongering, suspicion, one-upsmanship, blame casting, narcissistic grandstanding, and  win-lose competition for power all serve only one purpose now:  to keep the rest of us who are paying for the greed of wealth and corruption, scattered and incapable of uniting.  If we could unite, the bloodsucking leeches of lucre would be  discarded like old, infected  sick-room bed clothes..  Nothing is more powerful than a democracy aroused to unified action, they could not withstand our wrath and they know it.

We are riveted on them but are paying attention to the wrong thing. Our anguished attention is precisely the high octane their coup demands.  We are enmeshed and enabling calamity,  All the while we are like the rats in hot water:  the temperature goes up slowly and we do not notice that we are beginning to be boiled alive..

It has been an assumption that we have a huge gap to bridge here. I have thought and thought about on what common ground we could rejoin civil discourse and return to governing rather than fighting and negating.  I missed the obvious:  we are beyond that now, the common ground has been heaved up high down the middle in a bipartisan cataclysmic eruption of intolerance. self righteousness and hate.  There is no place to stand on it together.  As some of my NJ friends might well have said:: fahgetabaatit.

But in that dark cloud is a silver lining  We can treat this as an opportunity to take the train of our future off these old, rusted, dangerous rails and find new ones. We can stop engaging with negation and focus on building once this current national temper tantrum is done with.  We can think of the future while refusing any obeisance to those who would be king.

The best statement I’ve read of that and what we must be doing now — those of us with any moral conscience left – was just published.  Sojourners’ magazine:

https://sojo.net/magazine/march-2018/we-will-not-bow-down

Read it.  Hint:  it is after all about the Golden Rule, but the Rule riveted to the floor of the morally right path. I believe that our nation–one nation, under God with liberty and justice for all– will rise or fall depending on whether we choose to do what it says there.

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von Treschkow: the organizer of the Valkyrie plot to kill Hitler.  When it failed, he took his own life rather than give the Nazis any part of himself  or his knowledge at all

 

Can I help you, sweetie?

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I am by most counts 76 years old. Not that it pleases me much. But I’m fed up with ageism.  It’s everywhere, like a fungus among us.
  • The doc says not to worry abut X YZ because, uh, well uh, ahem! – you know, at your age you might ..uh well-uh you know what i mean, right? As we grow older certain things do not work-as well, you know what I mean? Right?
  • The bored and distracted cashier at the grocery store assumes im already-a demented, doddering, simpering, half blind , weak old nincompoop who cannot find or then carry his own  groceries and so says: here let me carry them to your car SWEETIE/HONEY/etc.  I decline as politely as they were when offering.
  • It’s not that I wouldn’t enjoy being waited on.  No.  I decline because of  the packer’s behavior:  either s/he is, my  age or ojder and  looks like s/he is about to topple over just by himself — or because being young and strong, the packer has a look of blind+deaf+dumb indifference that says you cannot breach this wall in a thousand years oh boring old person.
  • There is no winning.  They want us whitecaps to lose their oomph.  Maybe when we are vital and aged ,it upsets some teenage universal order.  Who knows?  It does not matter.  When I declinebecausee of these reasons,  these slobber-mpommies inevitably come back with;     are  you sure DARLINGs
  • I get the same bs from some nurses, waitresses, bank tellers, Wendy’s order takers, secretaries vendors eyc ad nauseam.
They mean well but they dont know!
Sure the body chsnges over the years.  Just ask my pants. But so does the wisdom  of been-there,  done-that. Its simple and I demonstrated it this.   morning with our 1’ foot of snow. You just work fast so that your body is  done before your slow, turtle like brain knows it has hapoened.  Take a peek:
 And the next little floozie who calls me HONEY/SWEETHEART/DARLIN’ etc better watch out.  My slow brain might think she’s asking for a quickie — I might take her up on it, and she won’t ever again think we HONEY+SWEETIE+DARLIN’S  are slow, plodding slug like creatures incapable of our own little interpersonal explosions. She wont know what hit her ( neither will I but it will be fast there isn’t much to be quick about any more..) Or I can just tell her off:  Cut out the talking down to me (can’t say condescending:  it is above the 4th grade reading level — our just peachy national reading level average – -the tweet level of comprehension) HONEYLAMB, its rude, pushy and presumptuous. Need to know how to spell presumptuous?  Finally I could just watch as she laughs herself to death after I take her up on the presumed flirt.
One way or the other, it would be fondly to be hoped that SWEETIE/HONEY/DARLIN’ won’t ever mean the same thing again.
At least thats my own sweetie fantasy.  Going back for my mid morning nap.
 Now what was my name again, sweetie?
)😜😇

Perspective

We live in (yet more) turbulent times.  The expected orders are being upended, the familiar dreams are being destroyed, the economic system on which most of us have relied seems headed for the junk pile, our leaders are people we would earlier not have chosen in a thousand years.  It seems that we are experiencing the re-valuation of all values.

So I was lazily drifting through blogs, books and emails when I stumbled across the following.  I’ve shown it to a few people and all agree: there is here some validation of the woe of our times.  See what you think:

“Oh grim calamity, where have my years all  gone?

Have I dreamed my life or is it real?

Whatever I held to be something, if it were there,

Was it really something?

And so I slept and knew nothing of it.

Now I am awake and now is strange

That which was before as familiar as my own hand.

The folk and the land in which I grew up

Are now foreign to me—as if that all were untrue.

My earlier playmates have grown slow and old.

The fields are abandoned, the forests all cut down.

Were the streams not flowing

Where they formerly flowed,

My pain would be truly great

I must believe.

I’m greeted coolly

By  those who knew me well.

Everywhere the world is bleak

The moment I recall many a magnificent day

Which has now slid away like a splash in the ocean

Then, forever:  oh woe is me.”

Ring any bells with you?  My sense was that, essentially, this sums up a lot of how I have felt recently.  And says it more eloquently than I could,, for sure.

But there is another aspect to this also:  perspective, in the sense that, first, my impressions are not just my own particular insanity, and, second, that we have been here before and are still around to talk about it.  It appears that we are like the timex watches of ads when I was young:  we take a lickin’ but keep on tickin’

And why, you might ask, do I come to that conclusion about this:

Simple.  It was written 800 years ago.

800 years ago by an itinerant German troubadour named Walther von der Vogelweide.  Walther spent a lot of his life walking  —. Yes on foot in all weather, day and night at a time when the world was lit only by fire — from one Prince’s court to another. HJe composed his poems and then sang them to his audiences for food, shelter and any other reward which his benefactor cared to bestow.

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He turns out to have been the for many greatest poet of the German Medieval era.  Apparently some people back then thought so too. His works survive in 32 manuscripts and one of them has a record of the melody to one of his Crusade Songs, the Palästinalied.

For me, today, his words go well beyond just having great historical importance.   Historical importance is a value in and of itself for me.  But this occasions both a sad reflection on persistent tragic folly of mankind and in a roundabout way, an encouragement in these turbulent times of ours.   It’s pretty obvious that here is an 800 year old ode to the tensions in the Holy Roman Empire during his time, and that they are to unlike some of mine at least, here 800 years later in another time of tensions and struggles. Our tragic folly is hardly different today:  fractured governance, fractured values consensus, seemingly endless warring, repeating some of the same actions that led in 1932 to The Third Reich, reversal of the reverence for nature implicit in our former embrace of ecology, etc, and so forth.  Different bottle, same sour wine.

The questions then must arise:  have we changed?  Has our notion of progress been an illusion?  If it has not, even in part, then could it be that we are not fundamentally here to make this world a better place?  DO we need some deeper reflection on the persistent tragic folly we create?.

On the other hand, this man lived  in circumstances physically enormously more dangerous and trying than mine.  He lived in  a world lit only by fire.  He walked or, if he was lucky, rode or was pulled by some animal in his travels. In the winter, he did not have to worry about his cars heater and defroster working.  No impermeable snowmobile suits with fitted gloves, boots, headgear and facemasks:  he wore heavier cloaks and possibly leather boots.   There weren’t even buttons to use on clothes.  No radio, no tv, no newspapers, no mail service…  He depended on handouts for his food, drink and shelter.  There was no social safety net of which we know (have to be careful here not go judge then by now’s standards however).  Lifespan was shorter.  Diseases which we have controlled then regularly cut down whole populations like scythes cutting tall grass. He even engaged in some rather pointed and possibly very dangerous political poetry/song writing which could easily have been seen as Walther biting the hand that fed him..   And yet:  he survived and  left this world works of beauty that have endured 800 years.

Therein lies the encouragement.  Do we not have so much for which to be grateful, even if it becomes the stage on which we act or our age’s tragic folly?  Should I then be consumed by concern?  Where are the gifts that are bestowed upon us in our time? If we can be open to it, even the cry of human woe grasping at our hearts across 8 centuries can be beautiful—-to my ears the beautiful music of Walther’s words.   Think of a poem or work of some sort where the words and the rhythm of the writing pleases you very much.  You will then have an idea of what this man’s literary power was 800 years ago..

Walther seems a lot closer to me now than he did 50 years ago and yet his distance has grown by 50 years. Increasingly my reading of history uncovers how we have been similar over the centuries, how our humanity has been the same, regardless of the physical and technological conditions of any particular time.  I have a growing sense that we are all in all ages in this together somehow.  Why not?  Einstein said time is a delusion.  My dear friend Bruce asserts that there is no future and no past, just the same day repeated over and over with different perceptions of the same thing=and all for the purpose of learning.  Walther’s cry of Owê, oh woe, oh alas, ach Weh gives that abstract thought shape and color.  At least for me.

Such mulitleveled beauty in one cry of existential sadness!  If we did not know that Walther said that 800 years ago, we could think someone said it today!  His reality and beauty is then ours too.

If truth is beauty, then our true reality is beauty, not turbulence. Turbulence just causes us to find new ways to create and celebrate beauty–to love. That’s! the reassurance of Walther’s Owê.

With this perspective, do we really have anything to fear but fear itself? O in the end Walther leaves me with this one compelling question:

Owê,what am I leaving behind of beauty?

 

 

 

 

 

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Beyond the Divide

The announcement by DJT that the US is leaving the Paris Accords takes this repugnant regime and the rest of the US from the frying pan and into the fire.

As usual, his facts are wrong.

As usual his conclusions are wrong.

As usual his party is wrong.

As usual, this is what Scott Peck called evil: being unwilling to exert energy unconditionally on behalf of other people.

He is living proof of the German adage that stupidity will never become extinct.  But what should one expect from a spoiled brat whose parents protected him from the consequences of his boyhood bullying, who evidently was totally immune to learning during his educational years and whose lawyers and aggressive behavior have protected him from knowing what an unmitigated disaster he has been all of his malignant live?

Is this just a political difference of opinion?  Absolutely not.  It represents greed,  ideology and oppositional thinking (being against things to be against things in the erroneous belief that opposition is somehow strong) blinding decision makers to reality.  It is in short, disastrous denial and terminal uniqueness.

Climate change is real and 194 nations on this ailing planet agree.  194.  So that leaves Generalissimo Trump and his Repugnikan cohorts gleefully thinking that they are the only soldiers in step in the army.

This destroys American leadership in the world of democracy.  This destroys American initiative, creativity, determination to dominate the world in the future of energy production.  And it won’t come from oil or coal.  Even some of the oil companies refuse to support DJT in this evil insanity.

This is the macro-economic equivalent of wanting to deprive millions of Americans of health care.  Think through all the twists, turns and jumps and jerks of any part of this bully’s behavior and you must wind up at only one conclusion:  this is just plan evil in power.  Its what in Faust the Devil called himself:  the spirit who constantly negates. This is what M Scott Peck called evil:  the unwillingness, perhaps even inability, to do anything for the benefit of anyone else without condition or thought of reward or recognition.  Perhaps it is so utterly blatant that many cannot see it, but it is there nonetheless.

So this has now finally placed us at that place where the divide, until now still at least theoretically bridgeable by civil dialogue, is too great to bridge.   Civil dialogue with the morally bankrupt, know nothing bullies in the Repugnikan Party and anyone who even remotely supports them, is a waste of our time from now on.  As the kids said in the 1950s, we are cruisin’ for a bruisin’.  Except that there is no mirth in this at all.  This will do for our economy what the Repugnikan version of health management will do for our health:  undermine it.

Time to take off the velvet gloves and hit back as hard as we can —  plus 10% just to be sure.  The line has been drawn.  We are indeed beyond the divide.