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Today’s Birthday

Again late, my friends. Apparently I am only able to acknowledge birthdays a day past. Nonetheless, here it is.

Gary Snyder…sometimes called the poet of the earth. Some of his poems transcend, may cause an altered state. A caution might precede the poetry: warning, may cause thinking, even loving.

Beat hero, steward of the earth, Zen Buddhist—in his mid-eighties, poet Gary Snyder looks back on an honorable life at the leading edge.

Gary Snyder. Photo by Festival of Faiths.

Gary Snyder. Photo by Festival of Faiths. In Lion’s Roar Buddhist Magazine

I want to share a GS poem with you. Here’s one.

My home was at Cold Mountain from the start,
Rambling among the hills, far from trouble.

Gone, and a million things leave no trace
Loosed, and it flows through the galaxies
A fountain of light, into the very mind—
Not a thing, and yet it appears before me;
Now I know the pearl of the Buddha-nature
Know its use: a boundless perfect sphere.

 

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Happy Birthday (a bit belated)

And lots of Yea’s! to ‘ole Soren. What a man. As a child I fell in love with him, in truth more with the picture than the self of him. He of the punk hairdo. And he was not as difficult to read

kierkegaard

Posted on Facebook, no credit given

and understand as many others in the philosophical land mine. (Probably the strongest appeal to me then.) And he was quick to paint pictures with quotable aphorisms. In fact, he and Nietzsche quite accurately duel for title as the most quotable of philosophers. Dueling aphorists we might say. And equally sure am I that neither would be interested in any award. Kirk died young at 42. He lived 5/5/1830 to 11/11/1855.

Fritz (Nietzsche) on the other hand, lived longer than Kirk, and his lifetime crossed over that of Kirk’s. Nietzsche lived 10/15/1844, to 8/25/1900, finishing out his ending years in the lunatic asylum. It’s he who said the often quoted, “If you stare into the abyss long enough the abyss will stare back.” Now it just dawned on me—that is the sad truth of exactly what happened to him.

soren

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On The Way (to the bakery)

Or, a cautionary tale of the dangers found in just about anything

I got lost a few times today. More than usual anyway, and have been left wearing a rather strange outfit (for me, at least somewhat). It all started with a hair combing, and why not? Hair is not usually a stopping place near a rabbit hole, but then sooner or later it seems as if anything can be. Hair combing can progress easily to hair chopping (seriously) and then quickly on to a shower which of course means different clothes. And therein lies the rub.

Now settled into a boho-covered sofa, I am wearing a short dress over short denim leggings and a pair of  moto boots. Black, of course. Said hair from original detour is sporting purple highlights. The clothes have to do with the moto boots which are all the fault of the doctor. (Sad to say, not the Dr. Who.)

About my doctor: I hurt my knee, then continued to bang it up for quite some time. Ultimately and not long ago I ended up at a doctor’s place of business. Because goals are required almost everywhere and for everything these days, I was asked what my goal was in addressing the seriously compromised knee. Biting my tongue, cheeks, and lips, so as not to say, “um, to use it?” I replied, “So I can wear my cowboy boots again.” Which is true. Cowboy boots, having an angled heel in order to settle the foot nicely in the stirrups, will angle the foot and pitch the ankle forward when walking. The higher the heel, the greater the pitch to the corresponding leg, and the offending knee. Pain results.

Meanwhile, the complaining knee has been slow to respond to treatments. At last review the kindly doctor suggested that it might be a bit longer than anticipated for us to be ready for cowboy boots. Might other boots not do just as nicely? At least for the time being—before the last-resort operation looms ever so brightly in front of me? And then the doctor—he of the moto-boot fame—went on to suggest that even motorcycle boots could work.

And they do. Motorcycle boots, aka moto boots, fit nicely and move along a flat plane, regardless of the heel height. So that’s the way things are now. And why I am wearing moto boots and have my purple highlighted hair chopped short. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Whatever. Things I don’t have: more writing done on the newest novel, advertising for The Fat Man set up, piano practiced, etc., etc., etc. But here are the boots!

 

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Depression

It’s not always what it seems, this depression thing. It’s a matter of yes but then you’re not talking about what is called “clinical depression,” or the big D. Lao is the man, as is Buddha, as is the Tao for the get-up-in-the-morning-and-sing variety of depression.

But the decent into the Great Blackness—which is a very different color of Black—that’s something else entirely. When your mind takes hold of itself into a grip with an iron fist that repeats words and phrases and threats and obscenities that are more than a word like Torture can convey, that’s Depression. Imagine buried alive in a coffin of darkness. Imagine a jail filled with horrors beyond Bosch. When the only way out is to silence the thought-hell entirely, that’s Depression.

Whatever. When not there you do not want to conjure it. It’s the film-flam of the Devil. So until then, Lao Tzu will do. Until then, this works.

quantamWorld

Posted by Quantum World 

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The Fat Man

The Fat Man has been reduced on Amazon.com. It can now be purchased for $16.97! If you haven’t yet gotten the book, now is the time.

I’m working on getting the price reduced on Barnes & Noble, so that should be appearing soon also.

Meanwhile, here you go!