I stayed up late fretting over a fury passed, but one i had regrettably acted on. When i was finally prepared to atone, the unfortunate subject of my righteousness had just left - now i must simply poor my regret into the aether along with so many others looking to make shit right. It would seem the best thing i can do is to reflect enough on my defective behavior to interrupt the impulse when i see it coming down the pike, and contain my own ignorance. What is complicated for me is not that i was angry about what i felt was an unjust action, but that i did not breathe enough to present my feelings in a more useful light - Madame Paradox of course is cackling at my back, “chocking back our gorge again are we¿” · ? I have moved two houses over to escape the pandemonium of construction that is part and parcel of any boom-or-bust economic model we are all too familiar with. Domicile for me is fraught with loose ends - broken marriages, broken homes, broken promises . ..
From where i sit just now, i see new shoots. C.G. Jung once used the analogy of a rhizome to describe the human cycle. I find his choice of forms fascinating given his largely mental focus of study. As an inveterate aesthete in constant search of meaningful metaphor, i find the leap from our emotional yoke to an organism in constant renewal a worthy of any bridge i can find. I live in a city of bridges, so somehow unconsciously i have landed where simple transit requires constant bridging - is that a random coincidence or the workings of a more complex organization we have yet to submit to · ¿ that is a question ? As importantly, to what end what do i labor so assiduously ? as though there is some governing rule, where when once found allows all the stops to fall away and the fluidity of neutrino star dust rules all dimensions without impediment.
It seems to me that i have lived my entire life to be just where i am, so it confuses me to no end that i should feel such a failure, as though my life is any different than any other boulder in the road. Are we impediments to growth or the moisture of life that is unique to our world? How can it be that such a smart species as we have been maneuvered into the corner we collectively face, yet faintly see? I D K, but i’m gonna keep asking until i die or find answers. There is no alternative, there is no “magic bullet” anyone can fire - friend of foe · If find no common ground to dispel the vapor of hate a cadre of small minded humans of evoked over our cooperative loving history, we deserve to die for being so stupid as to believe we are not all brothers and sisters on a marvelous, however fragile quest for greater meaning than our pain.
I have enough pain to recognize that most of what i feel is of my own design. Last night i tossed and turned over behavior i could attribute to no one but myself and feelings i was trying to process; mostly about things i turn away from for whatever reason. I was raised to fight in the most loving way a warrior scholar could conceive in tumultuous time not all that much different from what we face today. My father had the good fortune to face fascism at the end of a Norden bomb site - the problem is that no one told him that Norden Inc. had been sold to Hitler months before. There are rats in the nest showing us to be the Washichu we be - if you aren’t familiar with expression - Wasichu is Lakota Sioux for “he who takes the fat from the bone.” It is a contemptuous moniker, however accurate for the same population with hubris enough to carve the faces of murderers over an edifice of stone that had venerated elders for untold generations.
This is the predicament we as humans now live - do we recognize the vacuous sound of contemporary digital who-ha as legitimate, or do we dig deeper and search for perilous meaning in traditions we have been indoctrinated to disregard as ______fill in the blank? Frankly, i don’t give a fuck what you think. Most people i converse with in media or in person lack any manner of love that resembles what i am willing to lay on the line just to see that some portion of what i find to be a magnificent achievement in metaphysical alchemy to have reached fruition. It is hard enough for me to accept my role as a dying human on a planet of many others dying with much sadder stories than my own - i refuse to surrender and implore anyone reading these chronicles to rise up as least as far as your own self respect will carry you - as Yogi Berra the famed racist catcher for the Brooklyn Dodgers once said, “It ain’t over ’till the fat lady sings;” for my money with so many fat ladies singing it’s a real challenge to know which one to listen to - peace and love from Ringo Star, the richest fucker from the fabulous four .
jts 20/07/2020
http://stoanartst.blogspot.com
reprinted with permission - all rights reserved
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