The Tragedy

June 1, 2019

The tragedy of the uncertain life is exceeded only by the tragedy of the certain.

The Learned Astronomer

June 2, 2019

Yesterday, I did flax at the OC History center as part of Arts on the Green. Wasn’t terribly hot and i got to talk to a lot of old friends.

Is there any way forward from where I now find myself or is the barren pessimism of Cioran my destiny?

There must be some way out of here said the joker to the thief…..I can’t get no relief (Dylan). Oh, well, what did you expect?

I don’t want to be one of those whiny negative people who are never happy, but it requires a conscious effort to even try to avoid that feeling. So, if there is no correction possible, if God and belief are not the antidote, then what is left? If there is no meaning but what we devise, what meaning do you choose for yourself and the world?

Are these questions at the root of self-destructive behavior? Are alcoholism and addiction the children of existential angst? Even though the drunks and junkies may not know the words, they sing in groans that well up from the depths of tortured souls while the rest of the weary world limps along humming that same tune. Sometimes I fear I’m going off the rails but then feel the tracks again beneath my feet and realize (as the old saying goes) that the light at the end of the tunnel is the train on its way…and this conductor is never late.

Space X is planning to launch dozens? hundreds? of satellites to offer world-wide internet service and astronomers are concerned that the night sky will be forever changed for earth-bound observers. I read Whitman’s “When I Heard the Learned Astronomer” and contrast his verse:

“How soon I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical most night air, and from time to time,
looked up in perfect silence at the stars.” – Walt Whitman

to the prospect of blinking McDonald’s signs in low-Earth orbit to remind me to eat my daily ration of junk food.

We are removing every last vestige of the natural world from our lives, until, one day, we find that connection severed and ourselves now adrift, untethered to the planet and the wild mother who gave us life.

The Cross of Your Pride

June 3, 2019

I would like to believe many things, just as i would like to believe in a benevolent creator who knows the number of hairs on my head, but I find this belief almost impossible to sustain…all the evidence is inconclusive. So, I am adrift on an ocean of doubt. How does one get to this point? Best to keep to your own path, alone to the high country. The air is thin but the views spectacular. What have you done to aid your fellow travelers? Leave them behind and you are alone on some peak of your own invention. You reached the summit alone – how does that feel? Breathe the thin air and rejoice in the ascent for the few seconds you can bear the cold and lack of oxygen. Revel in your feat! The whole world lies before you. Your sacrifice on the high place incenses God who records your pride and hubris, and he will exact payment and his retribution will be complete. Your sins will be posted on the gates of hell for all to see. Enjoy your victories, rejoice in the suffering of your foes, God will have his pound of flesh, and his sacrifice on the cross of your pride.

Believe What you Will

June 6, 2019

I read again of some of the sacrifices of D-Day. Imagine those we will never know….scars physical and mental that plagued a generation of men asked to do the unthinkable. Good men every one but at a dedication for a Gold Star memorial at the high school, the rain clouds threatened right up until the start and more than one speaker mentioned divine providence while glancing toward the clearing sky. I hope they were correct but I wondered there in the presence of many families who lost loved ones in various wars, why God didn’t answer the prayers for the lives of these men? Did he stop the rain for their memorial after withholding his grace and brushing aside the prayers of mothers, fathers, sister, and brothers? Who can answer these questions? Who can live with the questions? You make up your mind to believe what you will about life and that’s how you survive this existence.

Local Universes?

June 8, 2019

Perhaps the universe is infinite space and the 13 billion light years we can see are the remnants of the “local” big bang. Perhaps matter cannot escape the gravitational force it exerts on all that other matter in the “local” universe and eventually collapses back to a singularity and the cycle starts anew. The distances are so great between these “local” universes that the gravitational forces do not affect them…or maybe they do, and all the locals will one day coalesce and yield a REALLY big bang. Maybe this pattern extends to larger and larger portions of space. Who can come to the end of these thoughts?

Surrender to Oblivion

June 10, 2019

Everyone has secrets. The universe has the only secret that counts, and you can never guess it. Secrets you’ll never guess. Lie awake all night agonizing over the meaning but the secrets are never revealed. The trees and grasses discuss them, but do not share what they know. You cannot give life, but you take it like a false God. False God you are. What you cannot know – cannot imagine, may be waiting for you… but you cannot imagine so it’s an impossible concept; beyond your ability or understanding.

Today, I drove to Friendship Indiana – the back way through the Markland Dam route. Gravel roads washed out from recent rains; roads that passed through country that looked like 1777. Wild, untouched, deep forests, quiet, still, damp, verdant. Just off the road, you’re in another time, another reality of deer, turkey, wildcats, and coyotes. But you can’t imagine what you can’t imagine so you recognize the unimaginable, but you can’t think about it because you don’t have the ability to understand the unimaginable. But you think it is out there. What was possible? Was it delusion to think things were possible? Name one who achieved it. You can’t because it was all in your mind and it existed only there and was not possible in the real world. You can’t imagine it because it didn’t exist.

Here’s what exists: monotony, routine, boredom. Embrace these and expect no more and relish these companions. You may think you can avoid them but if you manage to do this for some brief interval, they will bivouac in your castle walls and bring all their ragtag friends with missing limbs and painted faces, and you will be worse for it. Surrender to oblivion and rest.

Tech/Morality Questions

June 11, 2019

I spent the day doing flax at Locust Grove for cultural pass – lots of young kids so I skipped a lot because of short attention spans.

We are fragile beings and totally at the mercy of an uncaring universe which, if it knew us, would rain retribution down upon us all the sooner. Best to remain inconspicuous and maintain this tenuous existence a while yet…but why? I do not know. The pain of life is almost unbearable. Started reading Virginia Woolf today – “To the Lighthouse.” She is a perceptive observer of inner dialog and fleeting emotion. She agreed with Thoreau that “the average person is well suited for labor but only one in 100 million is aware enough for a poetic or divine life” -(Woolf). Is this true or just another deception propagated by an egotistical, narcissistic personality mired in insecurity and seeking validation and superiority?

Listening to Einaudi’s Passaggio (violin) and reeling in the years. I do not even know what I wanted but I think it has to do with purpose and meaning. Instead, I had no plan. If you have a plan and do not reach your goals – you may view “fulfillment” as did Rust Cohle.

What of the innocents, the innocence ravaged by the cruel agents of this world who are themselves often unwitting pawns? Do they understand that the pain they bring ripples out to affect distant souls separated in time and space? Their actions unforgivable and unforgettable. Woolf and her sister abused by half-brothers – was the evil unknown to them or did they not care? What horrible motives drive us to our fates? What holds them in check? I sense a dissolution of the morality that has helped to curb the unfettered carnal desires of millions who don’t think of themselves as spiritual beings and so give free rein to their every dark thought. Then thoughts become actions. This is why Alabama became the first state to outlaw sex dolls and robots! You think this is science fiction? Wake up! Part of the debate centers on the creation of child-like dolls and robots. But then if we can abort a child, why is it a sin to have sex with a child doll or robot? This is a generation of vipers, and we should all be thrown in the fire for allowing such sinful thoughts. I fear that Lot would not find one Godly man in all this nation. I sound like an old man, but I know that it has been much worse and perhaps there is progress toward enlightenment, but it is difficult to see amidst the glittering distractions and the coming tech/morality questions.

Lighthouse in the Desert

June 17, 2019

I lay in bed this morning thinking of my earliest memories from childhood and the unremarkable life that followed. I’m not sure I see the point. I managed to dodge the mines, some through the vagaries of fate and some through conscious decisions….in the end, does it matter at all? I have no answer.

If there is any hope for humankind, where does it lie? God? Technological advancement? Greater understanding of our minds and emotions? What percentage can achieve some degree of happiness? The definition of that elusive aether is shifting sand and once you stand upon it and prepare to plant your flag, you find it sifting from beneath your feet until the topography is changed entirely, and you see another dune that looks more appealing. So, trudging across a desert wild, with steps disappearing behind and climbing hills of sand that cave beneath your feet, you find that you’ve walked them all down and everything looks the same in every direction: merciless sun, cloudless sky, and a plain of sand where once graceful dunes promised sight of some verdant oasis – if only you climb this last rise; imagine the prospect form that vantage! It was all mirage and nothing but more of the same to the horizon in every direction. Has your journey been fruitful? Would you do it again? Did you find your lighthouse there in the desert? Put more sand in your pockets and keep walking – there is no respite.

11:37

Dreams or thoughts from this morning now recalled: holocaust-like event – humans in some device for compressing them into cubes of protein – dozens at a time. Press a button and listen to the femurs crack. At least they were all dead, right? Or were there screams? This is what the universe is doing to us….crushing bodies and spirits.

Secrets from Ourselves

June 18, 2019

Listening to Townes VanZandt – Flyin’ Shoes! Poor Townes is struggling here but the story is worth hearing and the song is heavenly.

Who can face the truth? We delude ourselves as soon as we begin to recognize our individuality as children. The age of accountability? We convince ourselves that we are unique among the billions of other “unique” humans, and we foster and enhance these beliefs as we grow old.

Thoreau and Woolf believe that the soul of the saint and the poet are infinitely rare. I think perhaps they exaggerate the quality of those souls – their own being in that number – to frame their own lives, to give them meaning and purpose. And what of all those others who count themselves among the elect? Do they bend the knee to their superiors? Do they recognize those talents, abilities, and insights? No! I think many amuse themselves with these egotistical perceptions and conclude that the differences are largely in the minds of the supposed “saints” and “poets.”

But we all have our secrets we keep even from ourselves, choosing to maintain our long-held beliefs about ourselves rather than question the foundations of those beliefs and risk the destruction of the elaborate edifice we’ve constructed. We have our sweet little lies about every aspect of our lives; these lubricate the rusty machinery of daily existence.

Who doesn’t want things to go smoothly? Those surfaces pass each other much better with the salve of gentle genuflection to the “best” in us, which, in reality is often mediocrity.

I am writing this at Loust Grove, in the residence, where I have set up the flax demonstration for cultural pass visitors. It rained when I arrived this morning and I feared it would last all day but now there is weak sunlight dappling the ground beneath the trees and birds perch right outside the open door and share their songs.

There is a rope bed in the corner covered with a soft blue and gray patterned quilt. Brandon has his book binding tools on one table, and I write on another which is pockmarked from the work of Dave who does a leather bucket demonstration.

The fireplace is cold – no cooking here, but in the kitchen next door, there was a roaring fire this morning which will burn down to the coals needed for cooking.

What would the world be like without the salve we apply to our relationships every day? Woolf, in “To the Lighthouse” presents a masterful depiction of the inner dialog of the characters. And, if you are of that mindset, you may find yourself always guessing the thoughts of those you love. Good luck with that, it’s a losing proposition. Nevertheless, if you must follow that path, imagine a world where everyone spoke those private thoughts aloud. Your guess work may have already taken you to such a place and, if so, you know there is no comfort there….in fact, that world is a dreary, gray, and grim lodging which may be difficult to leave.

Stare into the Future

June 22, 2019

Is it possible to find a new way to live? To recognize the failures of this life but not be ruled by them? To find that purpose and contentment that seems so elusive? To discard all the human weaknesses and emotions that bind us down. A pessimist would say such attempts are false hopes but what if it were possible? What if you could live a new life starting from right now? I think the bravest people are those who see the shallowness of our existence, the futility of life but who, for the sake of family, friends…indeed the whole of humanity, take up the cross of understanding and bear that burden without submitting to fatigue, doubt, malaise, and hopelessness. How do you stare into the certain future we all know awaits us? Stare into it with eyes unblinking – in the full knowledge of our ending and yet provide the example needed by others who might otherwise fall by the wayside.

I thought I knew things when I was 20, 30, 40, 50! But all I knew was the propaganda I served up to my ego. I believed it all. I am tired of all of this….very tired.

Bad Timing in the Reign of Terror

June 23, 2019

I read today about the Anchorites who were similar to eremitic monks but were sometimes walled up in cells attached to the outside of churches. Windows large enough for food and waste to pass were their only connection to the world. In their cells, they lived a life of contemplative prayer like that described in “The Cloud of Unknowing.” This anonymous work encouraged a prayerful attitude similar to that of Buddhists and transcendental meditation. The book is referenced in many books, songs, and films although there were only 17 extant manuscripts which indicates that it was little-known until Benedictine Monk Augustine Baker popularized it among English Catholics in the 1600’s. It was later published in 1877 and again in 1922.

The book is seen in a stack in the film “First Reformed” which is based on the book “Diary of a Country Priest” by Georges Bernanos, who also wrote “under the Sun of Satan” and “Mouchette” which were both made into films.

All this led me to the “Dialogues of the Carmelites” about the 1794 execution of the Carmelite Nuns of Compiegne. They were guillotined about a week before the end of the Reign of Terror for not submitting to the Revolutionary government. Laws of the Revolution sought to limit the influence, power, and wealth of the church.

Bad timing for the nuns!

Curtain Call

June 24, 2019

We are inching closer to war with Iran! At its narrowest point, the Strait of Hormuz is only 21 miles wide. Oman claims 12 miles of territorial waters on one side and Iran 12 on their side. This leaves no truly “international” waters. If these counties decide to shut down oil exports from the middle east, they can affect a significant portion.

We have a cat named Jake which my wife has raised from a kitten and to which she is very attached. A year ago, the vet said he has liver disease and there would be nothing we could do other than put him down when his quality of life suffered sufficiently. He is still eating and pooping but his stomach/abdomen is so swollen he can barely walk. I thought the time came weeks ago but I will not weigh in on this decision.

Why do any of us have such a strong instinct for survival? It is not rational. If you can die an easy and painless death, what is keeping you here? Another episode of “The Bachelor?” Your next peppermint latte? The promise of more sex, drugs, and rock and roll? Communion with God? I know, the possibility of another World Series for the Cubs!

What will you do between this instant and the hour of your death? Cure cancer? Find the secret of cold fusion? Locate the Holy Grail? Offer mankind a purpose and a meaningful life?

I wish this were so, but the truth is that a significant portion of the global population is still engaged in subsistence farming and of the remainder, how many are engaged in productive activities? This is harsh, I know but I differentiate between actions that lead to progress versus those that maintain the status quo. Taken to the terminus, perhaps there is no difference. We know how this story ends for all of us. Why is the survival instinct so strong in a sentient organism with the capacity to see the future? We are ruled by our chemicals which serve only to ensure the survival of a few nucleotides wrapped around each other in a double helix. This silly attempt at survival is a ridiculous and pathetic one-act play which NONE, not one living thing, has ever made the curtain call.

Fervor of Faith

June 28, 2019

While searching for something else online, I stumbled upon a young man who reads essays written by someone called the Mormon Yeshiva. This kid is so earnest while reading these essays that one suffers to watch him speak. Bearded and young, his knitted brow belies the messianic fervor of his soul. He clearly believes everything he reads from the essays and from the book of Mormon down to the very core of his being. His love of God and of his fellow man are unquestionable and therein lies the problem. I’m certain that we can find similar saints of all creeds who are all equally sure that they alone are on the one true path.