Well, here it is - April, 15; tax day. I will admit that I am one of those who tend to put off that distasteful chore until nearly the last minute. Perhaps because until the second week of April I simply have better things to do, or, more likely, because I know I will spend a considerable chunk of time feeling an ever-increasing level of frustration as I try hopelessly to decipher the instructions, and fill in the blanks on my federal return. It all culminates with the box indicating how much of my money I am about to write a check for and send off to the IRS. That's when the frustration turns to anger. I've all ready been well primed with the frustrating part. The anger, when my new tax wizard software reveals the bottom line, is nearly explosive. "What the... I paid in how much? ...and I owe how much?". This always causes me to go back over my receipts and figures, which only leads to more frustration. Eventually, exhausted, I sign the check, feeling defeated.
No wonder the evening news was filled with stories of the "TEA" parties that took place all across the country today. People are pissed. Most of them aren't even sure what they're pissed ABOUT, but they're angry, and they're frustrated, and they're mostly scared. A lot of us are looking for someone to pin this mess on, and we want somebody to know just how mad we are. The safety and security of our world is beyond threatened; it's under siege - and not by terrorists, or ideologies we don't understand - but by the confrontation of our own greed and avarice.
To put a slightly different spin on the leading question of this blog, "Man, how did we get here", the answer that comes to mind on this particular tax day is "we did it". We, the people, in order to form a more perfect money sucking machine, do hereby establish institutions designed to collect the wealth of nations, and establish laws to protect those institutions from the scrutiny of those of us handing over our money, and from having to answer too many embarassing questions.
So maybe a TEA party is just what the doctor ordered. We can all get together and blame one another until we figure out that there is no turning back. That is, after all, what I think most of us really want. Give us back that safety and security of our perceived prosperity. Can you do that Mr. President? Don't blame US if we're angry, and frustrated, and scared - mostly scared.
I think putting tax day so close to Easter was a particularly cruel joke. But then I recall some wise guy once said "Render unto Ceasar what is Ceasar's". So I signed the check, and I hummed a little tune by another wise guy -
"Father forgive us for what we must do - you forgive us and we'll forgive you
We'll forgive each other 'til we both turn blue - then we'll whistle and go fishin' in heaven". - John Prine - 1970 something.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Sunday, April 12, 2009
I see dead people, oh and Happy Easter
My internal debate to expose my spiritual views met with resistance from the smarter of my two selves. "Who cares what you think? The point of your internal "journey" isn't to go spread your insights. The insights are for you," the voice reminded me.
"But how can I give my heartfelt wish and blessings which are intricately connected to the cycle of Earth energies which brings out the bunnies (literally) in our back yards, the tulips in their glorious robes, the many buds of trees in a rainbow of pastels--and a philosophy that actually embraces and celebrates a "rising" of what I'll just agree to call Christ Conscioiusness?," I defended, being the ever stuborn debator.
So first with the confession. No I'm not a Christian. Crucify me. My bad. Pray for me and thank you for your concern. Honestly, if when you find out that I'm not a Christian and you want to go pray for me to save me from the pit of the devil and banishment from the eternal salvation and paradise of the dead, then my heavens--THANK YOU! It is such a sweet thought. And if you truly harbor concern for me in that way, you are blessed. Blessed to care for a fellow human. I hope you care for the bunnies as much, and the trees, and our poor distraught Mother Earth who presently is in such peril.
You know as I mowed the lawn (with my motorless, fuel-less, dispenser of green house gasses-less) push mower yesterday, and saw the remnants of "our" squirrel's walnut lunches, and felt the SPIRIT of our flowering crab tree, trimming little grass hairs at her feet, I realized that all of us, which are living in this time--the bunnies and their families, the entertaining squirrels (we have two, I watch them all the time), our plants, our towering walnuts, my neighbors, all global citizens are really spirit. It is an important time to realize this. We need to all be working together right now, and especially asking the spirits of the squirrels and bunnies and trees to support us in our effort to come together as one living organism.
I like to think of God as consciousness because it is consciousness which is alive in us. As to the matter in us, the molecular material, it is alive in a different way. It (the matter) changes by the split of the second, in accordance with the planetary dance and cycle of the universe, and taken as a whole, each separate bio-individuals are "aging" or dying (declining--however you want to think about it, but in a process of dust to dust). But there is a non-aging part of us, of everything, which is exactly as it was and ever will be. The Beatles liked to just call that thing LOVE. I really haven't seen that far into the mysteries to know whether LOVE is all encompassing enough, but I like to think it is.
I don't know the whole story about the dude. Did Mathew, Mark and Luke (John's version is the most different) have some political agenda? Maybe. Did they get their stories from a verbal tradition based on facts of some water walking super hero? Hmmm. OK, Maybe. I say maybe because really inside me, I go no to that one. But again, who's to say. And does it really matter? If some cat like that was really out there making sick people well and even bringing back the dead--righteous! Right on. Go Super Jesus.
Has he stood at the foot of my bed, in a way that there is no question and said, "Get your shit and come with me--we're going to go work miracles?" No. At least not that I recall. And I would tend to think that the dude who my wife and daughter are in church worshiping right now would easily have that power. The fact that he hasn't done that and doesn't work that way makes me wonder, "Well, why wouldn't he, if that is his schtick?" I mean, what's stopping him?
Sorry, didn't want to get in to all that. But there are some nuggets in those books. Like some really nice, nice stuff. As good as you can find anywhere. Including in the Old Testament. Some breathtaking wisdom and beauty not even surpassed by Shakespeare.
One of the really cool sayings attributed to the Jeezmeister is this one. "Before Abraham, I am." Those four words are packed. Like with volumes. For one thing they work like a Zen Koan. You sort of go, "Whaaa?" Smack. It is one of those slaps, or blasts of cold water slung in your face. Meant to wake you up from this lazy dream. So if there was a dude who said that, or if it was just a bunch of writers saying it through the character they invented, then I say it was the same author. And here you Christians...I'll even submit to your suggestion. It was written by GOD. But I've already ruined my pious reputation by explaining my view of God, which is even more twisted than my view of the SuperJeez, according to the world view of most Christians.
"Empty thyself and I shall fill thee," is another jewel by the thorn crowned Maestro. Oh Holy Sweetness. What rapture and beauty lives in that concept. We are so full of SHIT, most of us, especially me, that it is of radical importance that I empty myself of all that clutter. And to be filled with beauty and LOVE and the undying spirit of... Christ Consciousness (for lack of a better phrase for this particular blog entry,
"But how can I give my heartfelt wish and blessings which are intricately connected to the cycle of Earth energies which brings out the bunnies (literally) in our back yards, the tulips in their glorious robes, the many buds of trees in a rainbow of pastels--and a philosophy that actually embraces and celebrates a "rising" of what I'll just agree to call Christ Conscioiusness?," I defended, being the ever stuborn debator.
So first with the confession. No I'm not a Christian. Crucify me. My bad. Pray for me and thank you for your concern. Honestly, if when you find out that I'm not a Christian and you want to go pray for me to save me from the pit of the devil and banishment from the eternal salvation and paradise of the dead, then my heavens--THANK YOU! It is such a sweet thought. And if you truly harbor concern for me in that way, you are blessed. Blessed to care for a fellow human. I hope you care for the bunnies as much, and the trees, and our poor distraught Mother Earth who presently is in such peril.
You know as I mowed the lawn (with my motorless, fuel-less, dispenser of green house gasses-less) push mower yesterday, and saw the remnants of "our" squirrel's walnut lunches, and felt the SPIRIT of our flowering crab tree, trimming little grass hairs at her feet, I realized that all of us, which are living in this time--the bunnies and their families, the entertaining squirrels (we have two, I watch them all the time), our plants, our towering walnuts, my neighbors, all global citizens are really spirit. It is an important time to realize this. We need to all be working together right now, and especially asking the spirits of the squirrels and bunnies and trees to support us in our effort to come together as one living organism.
I like to think of God as consciousness because it is consciousness which is alive in us. As to the matter in us, the molecular material, it is alive in a different way. It (the matter) changes by the split of the second, in accordance with the planetary dance and cycle of the universe, and taken as a whole, each separate bio-individuals are "aging" or dying (declining--however you want to think about it, but in a process of dust to dust). But there is a non-aging part of us, of everything, which is exactly as it was and ever will be. The Beatles liked to just call that thing LOVE. I really haven't seen that far into the mysteries to know whether LOVE is all encompassing enough, but I like to think it is.
I don't know the whole story about the dude. Did Mathew, Mark and Luke (John's version is the most different) have some political agenda? Maybe. Did they get their stories from a verbal tradition based on facts of some water walking super hero? Hmmm. OK, Maybe. I say maybe because really inside me, I go no to that one. But again, who's to say. And does it really matter? If some cat like that was really out there making sick people well and even bringing back the dead--righteous! Right on. Go Super Jesus.
Has he stood at the foot of my bed, in a way that there is no question and said, "Get your shit and come with me--we're going to go work miracles?" No. At least not that I recall. And I would tend to think that the dude who my wife and daughter are in church worshiping right now would easily have that power. The fact that he hasn't done that and doesn't work that way makes me wonder, "Well, why wouldn't he, if that is his schtick?" I mean, what's stopping him?
Sorry, didn't want to get in to all that. But there are some nuggets in those books. Like some really nice, nice stuff. As good as you can find anywhere. Including in the Old Testament. Some breathtaking wisdom and beauty not even surpassed by Shakespeare.
One of the really cool sayings attributed to the Jeezmeister is this one. "Before Abraham, I am." Those four words are packed. Like with volumes. For one thing they work like a Zen Koan. You sort of go, "Whaaa?" Smack. It is one of those slaps, or blasts of cold water slung in your face. Meant to wake you up from this lazy dream. So if there was a dude who said that, or if it was just a bunch of writers saying it through the character they invented, then I say it was the same author. And here you Christians...I'll even submit to your suggestion. It was written by GOD. But I've already ruined my pious reputation by explaining my view of God, which is even more twisted than my view of the SuperJeez, according to the world view of most Christians.
"Empty thyself and I shall fill thee," is another jewel by the thorn crowned Maestro. Oh Holy Sweetness. What rapture and beauty lives in that concept. We are so full of SHIT, most of us, especially me, that it is of radical importance that I empty myself of all that clutter. And to be filled with beauty and LOVE and the undying spirit of... Christ Consciousness (for lack of a better phrase for this particular blog entry,
on this particular Easter morning,
on this particular year three years prior to the Easter that will precede December 11, 2012 by exactly 237 days,
on this particular phase of peak oil,
on this particular phase of the ice cap melt,
on this particular time of our evolving consciousness as a human civilization,
on this particular time which SPIRIT consciuosness DEPENDS on human awareness--
(IF it is important to survive as a species, all those animal spirits for the first time in the history of our planet actually depend on the correct choices we make to secure a chance for our great great grandchildren to wake up to bunnies in their backyard, smile as they find the empty walnut shell, merge with the spirit of the flowering crab tree, observe the migration of the whales, breathe the sweetness of clean air),
is such a better thing to be filled with. Wow. Certainly, give me a fill up (would you mind touching up the windshield?).
So let us all push open that vault and move the huge stone so that we can discover that Christ Consciousness has risen! And let us dance and sing for we are welcoming the new day!
Praise God!
So let us all push open that vault and move the huge stone so that we can discover that Christ Consciousness has risen! And let us dance and sing for we are welcoming the new day!
Praise God!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Birds of a feather
So good to see cousin Danny joining in. I'll join the chant - Rey... ah, Rey... ah, Rey... ah!!! Actually, I'm more than willing to cut her some slack for feeling "blogged down". It seems there is no end to our cyber, (tinker), toys. Between email, facebook, my JaCo music site, this blog, and You Tube, I sometimes feel like that little white dot in Pong - the first electronic game I believe I ever played.
A few days ago I got an email saying that someone I know wanted to follow me on twitter. I thought this was curious, since I had managed to avoid going anywhere near twitter, (up until now). I went ahead and created an account at the urging of a piano player friend of mine. After three days, I'm still not sure of the purpose, or the usefulness, of any of it. Twitterers incessantly "tweet" in short blurbs limited to 140 characters. To carry the analogy further, it is something akin to a blind man stumbling into one of those huge aviaries filled with birds of every species that the zookeeper has managed to net. They are all chirping, (or tweeting), at once, in an effort to be heard, ...or perhaps calling out in search of other birds with similar coloring. I haven't done much tweeting; prefering, instead, to stretch my wings in the open sky alone - or in the company of my fellow loons :-).
I have to admit however, I was a bit intimidated to find out that Reya proofreads EVERYTHING. I'm pretty sure I have not posted anything to date that would pass muster, and not come back looking like a bad accident, running red with ink. I suspect that my computer has contracted an insideous virus, (I have named Dislexicor), that activates an "error injector" tied to my submit button. Fifteen minutes after posting, words become mysteriously misspelled. Some disappear altogether, only to be replaced by prepostitions at the end of sentences. Dangling participles abound. I swear it was not that way when I clicked submit. I imagine Reya slowly shaking her head... "Alas, poor Rick. We knew him well.".
I have to sign off so that I will have time to proofread this before Danny's radio show. I'm out to prove my virus theory.
Later Loons
A few days ago I got an email saying that someone I know wanted to follow me on twitter. I thought this was curious, since I had managed to avoid going anywhere near twitter, (up until now). I went ahead and created an account at the urging of a piano player friend of mine. After three days, I'm still not sure of the purpose, or the usefulness, of any of it. Twitterers incessantly "tweet" in short blurbs limited to 140 characters. To carry the analogy further, it is something akin to a blind man stumbling into one of those huge aviaries filled with birds of every species that the zookeeper has managed to net. They are all chirping, (or tweeting), at once, in an effort to be heard, ...or perhaps calling out in search of other birds with similar coloring. I haven't done much tweeting; prefering, instead, to stretch my wings in the open sky alone - or in the company of my fellow loons :-).
I have to admit however, I was a bit intimidated to find out that Reya proofreads EVERYTHING. I'm pretty sure I have not posted anything to date that would pass muster, and not come back looking like a bad accident, running red with ink. I suspect that my computer has contracted an insideous virus, (I have named Dislexicor), that activates an "error injector" tied to my submit button. Fifteen minutes after posting, words become mysteriously misspelled. Some disappear altogether, only to be replaced by prepostitions at the end of sentences. Dangling participles abound. I swear it was not that way when I clicked submit. I imagine Reya slowly shaking her head... "Alas, poor Rick. We knew him well.".
I have to sign off so that I will have time to proofread this before Danny's radio show. I'm out to prove my virus theory.
Later Loons
Now let's make it four
OK brother Mousers. We need to put on the full court press and get sister Reya to bless us with more than just her comments. We're talkin real life post here. Like official dude. Hey, even if she cross posts one from Goldenpuppy, we'll be happy, right?
So hit those comment keys and join me in the surround mode and let's lift our compadre (ette) up in the air by making one of those chairs with our arms. Then we'll toss her up...once...weeeee, then twice....weeeeeee, then really high this time....weeeeeeeeee. Oops honey, better not wear a skirt next time...
Ray...ah.....Ray....ah......Ray....ah.
So hit those comment keys and join me in the surround mode and let's lift our compadre (ette) up in the air by making one of those chairs with our arms. Then we'll toss her up...once...weeeee, then twice....weeeeeee, then really high this time....weeeeeeeeee. Oops honey, better not wear a skirt next time...
Ray...ah.....Ray....ah......Ray....ah.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Just wanted to pop in and say hi to all and apologize for my non-participation. My life has not been my own for the last couple of weeks. I have been desparately cleaning my studio and guest room for a guest who is now not going to show up like I had thought. I'll make her pay for it though. I made her promise to bring big city ethnic bread products to us here in Hooterville when she does come to visit as penance for her transgressions.
Things have been breaking around the radio station because of all of the storms and it's my job to make all of them work again. Florida is the lightning capitol of the US and we got our fair share here in the last few weeks. We had 10+ inches of rain in 4 days during some extreme thunderstorms. We got 5 1/2" in one 24 hour period. Things got green, so it's not so bad. The weeds in our sand lot grew to 2 feet high. No big deal. Fix the dormant lawnmower, mow the weeds to the ground...yard looks green...we call it a lawn.
I have also taken on several new guitar students lately, so the house needs to be cleaned almost every day. We have a black dog and a white cat with dark carpet and white tile floors. An endless and thankless task to keep all in order...and...I...must...have......order!!! It's a brain thing. Rick, I'm trying to remember to take my medication too, but it's difficult to remember to take medication for your memory. I'll explain some other time. Wives with good memories are a good thing...most of the time?
I do read everything you guys post and am enjoying the insight about my old friends. Although I don't get too angry about political crap anymore. Dubby, just breath in deeply and out slowly and watch Rachel Maddow and laugh about all of the stupidity you see. It works for me.
If anybody cares and can join me, I will be live on: http://www.30aradio.org/ from 3-6pm tomorrow with 3 hours of some of my favorites from the '70s (1st hr.), '80s (2nd hr.), and '90s (3rd hr.). I'll be looking for your comments on facebook, and email if the station's fb screws up again like it did a few weeks ago. Tomorrow night, I'm judging a Guitar Hero contest at the Seaside amphitheater. I get to play Simon Cowell. I got booed the last time we did it. It was fun!
BTW, I don't know what it's like where you are right now, but we have our double french doors open, are listening to the Gulf waves, and smelling the salt air. I love it down here. The seafood is amazing all year round. You're all welcome any time.
Love and blessings to you all
Things have been breaking around the radio station because of all of the storms and it's my job to make all of them work again. Florida is the lightning capitol of the US and we got our fair share here in the last few weeks. We had 10+ inches of rain in 4 days during some extreme thunderstorms. We got 5 1/2" in one 24 hour period. Things got green, so it's not so bad. The weeds in our sand lot grew to 2 feet high. No big deal. Fix the dormant lawnmower, mow the weeds to the ground...yard looks green...we call it a lawn.
I have also taken on several new guitar students lately, so the house needs to be cleaned almost every day. We have a black dog and a white cat with dark carpet and white tile floors. An endless and thankless task to keep all in order...and...I...must...have......order!!! It's a brain thing. Rick, I'm trying to remember to take my medication too, but it's difficult to remember to take medication for your memory. I'll explain some other time. Wives with good memories are a good thing...most of the time?
I do read everything you guys post and am enjoying the insight about my old friends. Although I don't get too angry about political crap anymore. Dubby, just breath in deeply and out slowly and watch Rachel Maddow and laugh about all of the stupidity you see. It works for me.
If anybody cares and can join me, I will be live on: http://www.30aradio.org/ from 3-6pm tomorrow with 3 hours of some of my favorites from the '70s (1st hr.), '80s (2nd hr.), and '90s (3rd hr.). I'll be looking for your comments on facebook, and email if the station's fb screws up again like it did a few weeks ago. Tomorrow night, I'm judging a Guitar Hero contest at the Seaside amphitheater. I get to play Simon Cowell. I got booed the last time we did it. It was fun!
BTW, I don't know what it's like where you are right now, but we have our double french doors open, are listening to the Gulf waves, and smelling the salt air. I love it down here. The seafood is amazing all year round. You're all welcome any time.
Love and blessings to you all
Thank you
You know it is so simple and luxurious to feel gratitude. You feel instantly refreshed and clean, like stepping out of a cool river or like basking in the sublime euphoria of a rushing waterfall. The squeeky cleanness of the morning shower is just an abbreviation of the soul cleansing of grace.
Sometimes when I don't know what to say to someone or when I find myself kind of topsy turvy and out of synch, I'll remember to turn my attention within. Even if it is just for a few moments, it is so therapuetic to take stock of your breath and to observe the rhythm of the inhale and the exhale.
For me, and I suspect it works for everyone, whenever I do that, inevitably a smile will take charge of my facial muscles and I'll feel relief. Then, everytime, inexplicably this feeling of gratitude permeates the spaces of my being and for that instant, I am amazed at the complex beauty of existence.
Then boom. Gratitude. It seems to be presenting itself with the explanation "Hey, you are soooo lucky, dude."
Sometimes when I don't know what to say to someone or when I find myself kind of topsy turvy and out of synch, I'll remember to turn my attention within. Even if it is just for a few moments, it is so therapuetic to take stock of your breath and to observe the rhythm of the inhale and the exhale.
For me, and I suspect it works for everyone, whenever I do that, inevitably a smile will take charge of my facial muscles and I'll feel relief. Then, everytime, inexplicably this feeling of gratitude permeates the spaces of my being and for that instant, I am amazed at the complex beauty of existence.
Then boom. Gratitude. It seems to be presenting itself with the explanation "Hey, you are soooo lucky, dude."
hmm
It struck me the other day, as wandered aimlessly, idly, in cyberspace, how often I ran across a "hmm" launching an observation or comment. For a "non-word", or at least one void of vowels, it's a very powerful, (and flexible), expression. It can mean pretty much anything you want it to, but most commonly interpreted as some contemplative thought process on the part of the hmmer. You can deepen or lengthen your contemplation by adding the appropriate number of m's. "Hmmmm", I've given this more serious and prolonged thought. Any more than four or five m's probably indicate an epiphany. Of course you can drop the H and change the meaning completely. "Mmmm" that was good. Some stimulation of any or all of the five senses just occurred.
This morning I read Dub's letter to the editors of Newsweek. "Hmmm" I thought. "Passion - I smell passion, (symbolism solely for the reader - you can't really smell passion unless it's the kind that comes in a bottle). "Mmmm - smells good". The fire in the belly. The call to arms. I responded to his letter on facebook with a single word, "passion". I left off the "hmmm". By that time I was no longer contemplating. Dub replied with a link pointing to the lyrics of a song entitled "Passion".
Many years ago, in another life, Dub asked me to write him a song. This was long before I had ever written anything. I should say, it was more a directive than a request. "Rick - write me a song.", was the way I recall the telling. So, many years later, I did. Without boring anyone with the entire lyric, the first verse/bridge pretty much captures the sentiment, and was written:
If the measure of a man is to leave the world a better place
have you done all that you can to make it so?
Have you opened up your hand to your brother in a different space
to make your peace with him before you go?
Time's what you make it
but it won't last too long
Be carefull how take it
Will they miss you when you're gone?
I thought about how remarkably similar the lyrics are to the lyrics of "Passion" - not in rhyme or metre, but sentiment. I resolved to re-record the song. I now have a project. Thanks Dub! Have you ever considered a career path as a professional muse? Hmmm.
Rick
This morning I read Dub's letter to the editors of Newsweek. "Hmmm" I thought. "Passion - I smell passion, (symbolism solely for the reader - you can't really smell passion unless it's the kind that comes in a bottle). "Mmmm - smells good". The fire in the belly. The call to arms. I responded to his letter on facebook with a single word, "passion". I left off the "hmmm". By that time I was no longer contemplating. Dub replied with a link pointing to the lyrics of a song entitled "Passion".
Many years ago, in another life, Dub asked me to write him a song. This was long before I had ever written anything. I should say, it was more a directive than a request. "Rick - write me a song.", was the way I recall the telling. So, many years later, I did. Without boring anyone with the entire lyric, the first verse/bridge pretty much captures the sentiment, and was written:
If the measure of a man is to leave the world a better place
have you done all that you can to make it so?
Have you opened up your hand to your brother in a different space
to make your peace with him before you go?
Time's what you make it
but it won't last too long
Be carefull how take it
Will they miss you when you're gone?
I thought about how remarkably similar the lyrics are to the lyrics of "Passion" - not in rhyme or metre, but sentiment. I resolved to re-record the song. I now have a project. Thanks Dub! Have you ever considered a career path as a professional muse? Hmmm.
Rick
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