Run For The Wall

It was unfortunate that in losing their prior weaknesses, they had developed the veneer of fanaticism that often shields the revolutionary from the full spectrum of human reaction and interaction, leaving him merely an automated shell with only revolutionary responses functioning. Lt. Rowe "Five Years to Freedom"

We had another severe storm the other night. More hail and a stupendous display of lightening. I ran around and disconnected everything that might have blown out. About two thirty in the morning I woke to a loud and continuous roaring sound. I thought it was a tornado but all I got was penny sized hail for a half minute and then rain and wind and the aforementioned lightening. Our Spring rains came late this year. I was beginning to think they would not come at all. It seems that they are more severe in being later than usual. The crops hereabouts have been shredded twice by hail.

Saturday the internet connection was down all day and I had to make it through the day without the internet. I think my ISP has no power surge protection because every time there is a severe thunderstorm with the attendant lightening they seem to go down. Finally about eleven P.M. the service was restored but by then I was ready to forget the whole thing.

I have been getting ready to go on a long motorcycle trip. The first stop will be El Paso, about 600 miles from here, and one night and a day later Los Angeles. There I will meet up with about 300 veterans and we will set out on a mission that will take us to the nation's capital where we will conduct a "Rolling Thunder" parade culminating in an event at the Vietnam Memorial commemorating the memory of 58,000 patriots and defenders of freedom who shed their blood and lost their lives in that war against tyranny, communism, as it was then called.

There are any number of thoughts as to what the meaning of Vietnam was for my country. To me it is very simple and has remained the same since the founding. Will you stand up for liberty and make the appropriate sacrifices to achieve victory over an implacable enemy, or will you give in to the worst instincts of humankind and abandon your soul to the evil devices of the enemy? Will you sacrifice your individual human rights and self determination to the group identity? In Vietnam as in previous conflicts this took the form of a fascist statism driven politic where the individual's rights are always sublimated to the needs of the state. In our current conflict with Islamofascism a loss would mean freedom would be crushed by a c. 500 B.C. world view of religious fanatics whose stated aim is nothing less than hegemony on a worldwide scale.

It is a strange hand that history has dealt us. We are constantly confronted with seemingly insurmountable obstacles to the realization of human potential. The choices are increasingly complicated and demand more at each turn. If we weren't so exquisitely tuned to the highly tuned diplomatic niceties of Western civilization it would be so easy to dispatch the enemy. Sometimes, somewhere, we are going to find it necessary to call up the brutish qualities sublimated in ourselves and take care of the problem in such a way that the primitives we struggle against can understand.

Many of us heap criticism on the current administration for not being aggressive enough in the prosecution of the war effort. I am one of those who firmly believes that the situation warrants a national resolve that simply does not exist at this juncture. Yet I note that the President acknowledges, in word at least, that we are in the middle of World War III. Well this is a step in the right direction, but a general call to arms needs to be trumpeted daily across the land. Our leaders have not asked us to make sacrifices in our personal lives in order to defeat this enemy. They, in fact, tell us to go on leading our lives as before. We are not reminded of the acts of war that have been perpetrated against our nation by this enemy. If you want to get an idea as to the scope of the events you have to make a personal commitment to dig out the details yourself. We are not instructed on the nature of our enemy in a historical context. The information is out there, but, again, you have to really want to find it.

Jeffrey Kuhner writing in Insight Magazine has an article that lists some of the terrorist events during the Clinton administration:

Even though Osama bin Laden had declared jihad on the United States; the World Trade Center was bombed in 1993; 19 American soldiers were murdered and dragged through the streets of Mogadishu; U.S. military personnel were killed in 1996 by terrorist attacks on the Khobar Towers in Saudi Arabia; U.S. embassies in east Africa were savagely bombed in 1998; and the USS Cole was the victim of a suicide terrorist bombing by al Qaeda operatives that took the lives of 17 sailors. Mr. Clinton refused to treat these atrocities for what they were: acts of war.

Before that it was 1983 when, during the Reagan administration, in an Iranian sponsored attack, the Marine barracks was destroyed in a bomb attack in Beirut, Lebanon. There were 241 American servicemen lost in that attack. Before that, in the Carter administration, on November 4, 1979, Iranian "student" protestors seized the American Embassy in Tehran and held it for 444 days. Ayatollah Khomeini exhorted that the U.S. was the great Satan and urged "demonstrations" against ours and Israel's interests. When have you heard from our leadership that for almost three decades we have been under attack by the same enemy we now face in the so called global war on terrorism? A clarion call needs to issue daily from the national leadership and the touchstone should be these and similar events that clearly indicate the nature of the challenge we face.

As a nation we understood what was at stake in the struggle against Nazi tyranny. It was clear to us that the communist movement following WWII had to be defeated. Yes there were dissenters in these wars too but on the whole our people properly assessed the threats and marshaled the appropriate defenses to assure victory. Only in Vietnam do we see the erosion of America's will to win. I firmly believe that an indomitable spirit thrives in the core of our national will and that this will still burns in the hearts of our people. It begs to be roused by effective leadership. We are in a race against time. People are waking slowly, on there own, to the nature of the threat. If the enemy hits us again it might be that will suffice to rouse our people to demand victory in a loud enough voice that will be heard in Washington.

What is at stake is the destiny of mankind. If we lose in this struggle the human spirit will enter a new dark ages. What will come out of that will not be anything that you can imagine in terms of where evolution would take the world otherwise. Winston Churchill told the British people in WWII that he had nothing to offer but "blood, sweat, and tears". Under his leadership England proved again she was up to the task. Where is our Churchill?

Back to the motorcycle trip. This is not a party. In fact it promises to be a very difficult task both physically and emotionally. The reason I am participating in this is to help keep patriotism alive. The web site for the annual Run for the Wall event is http://www.rftw.org/ . As I write this it is two days till I leave for Ontario, CA. Wednesday, May 17, at 0800 we leave Ontario for D.C.

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"Sickness unto Death"

I wrote this post in response to Vanderleun's essay at American Digest titled Clear History .

"So to be sick unto death is, not to be able to die--yet not as though there were hope of life; no, the hopelessness in this case is that even the last hope, death, is not available. When death is the greatest danger, one hopes for life; but when one becomes acquainted with an even more dreadful danger, one hopes for death. So when the danger is so great that death has become one's hope, despair is the disconsolateness of not being able to die." Kierkegaard

Vanderleun speaks of a yearning towards a utopia that never comes and the connection of this with a lack of foundation in history. I have a slightly different take (exegesis) on this that also involves history. Consider that the exodus is the mother of the myth of creation. The Jews were brought out of Egypt. The world was brought out of the void. Now, the unadulterated spirit is will and will is power. The urge to go beyond the self (yearning), the daemonic urge, or romanticism, is perversion of this power. Classicism to the extent that it elevates the intellect, or dwells on the distinction that can be made between the power of the mind, rationalism, and mere corporeality, sets up a tendency towards adulteration of the will. The next logical step from classicism is towards romanticism. The daemonic spirit appeared through the movement of Christianity. Romanticism is the daemonic spirit, the erotic in nature. Think of the sensuous genius Don Juan: "My need is too great for anyone to satisfy." His need, having been brought out of the void is based in a state of estrangement from himself which he can never overcome simply by trying through the satisfaction of the senses to turn around and fill the void.

This ubiquitous yearning speaks of the soul's failure to recognize it is essentially complete from its inception. Thus the continuous attempt of the soul to go beyond itself with the concomitant urge to see reality as greater than itself.

The prehuman force existential mass is the most concrete medium while romanticism, the post human force is given perfect expression by the most abstract medium, music, e.g., the music of Mozart.

This leaves us with a "Sickness unto Death".

Hummingbird

We talk about the same things over and over again until the terms are so saturated with meaning that they become meaningless. This is the conundrum of mainstream religion and the basis of dogma.

It stormed pretty hard most of last night but mostly the brunt of the storm was a little South of here. I got more lightening and thunder than rain. But, fortunately for the garden and pasture, it did rain a little. Around three o'clock this morning the system moved of to the Southeast pushed by a North wind and I was able to get a little sleep without worrying about hail, tornados, or both.

I love going out in the morning after a rain so I invented a reason to go to the store. Sort of needed a loaf of bread and some fruit. Could have made do, but I went anyway. I turned on my cell phone and there was a voice mail from one of my sisters saying she sent me the addresses I had requested for the son's wedding but they came back undeliverable. Bad email. I gave her the new address and we chatted for a few minutes about nothing in particular. I asked if her youngest girl was entertaining thoughts of marriage and she said not that she knew of. She said her life had a "calling" and that she was no doubt waiting on the right minister like person (read Christian fundamentalist) to come along. I thought sadly that there was a great divide, the "reach", between our lives that could never be bridged. No matter what.

Have you ever been near a hummingbird? I was standing under a tree the other day and this very loud humming sound caught my attention. It was quite sudden. I don't know what kind this one was. I have seen the ruby-throated hummingbird around here and its wings beat at about 70 cycles per second. Once I rescued one of these trapped in my shed. As it tried to escape through a window I was able to capture it in my hands and harmlessly release it outdoors. Yet again, on another occasion, I was sitting on the deck and one flew within three inches of my nose and hovered there for a couple of seconds. (And, no, my nose is not "florid" red.)

The flowers the humming birds go to bloom from a plant that rooted and grew over the course of a season. The flower rises on its stalk, blooms for a day or two, withers, and goes to seed. The flower and the bird enjoy mutual attraction. In fact, the flower habituates the bird into its cycles and acts as a sort of paradigm of developmental activity for the bird. The bird quickly learns the purpose of the flower and patterns its life accordingly. This is like the soul of man and God.

The non-local undifferentiated ultimate ground of being serves as a kind of repository of paradigms. These are channels or grooves that "limbs" of the developing individual life ensconced soul are drawn to by prayer or meditative practice. Once connected with a paradigm there is a kind of joining of intention. The soul begins to come into its own. Understanding leaves behind mere mind stuff, knowledge, thoughts. The clinging nature of material existence is abandoned. Struggle ends replaced by liberty, meaning, purpose, and joy.

My beloved mentor used to say "I feel so clean". Now I begin to understand.

Bicycle Ride

"A violet by a mossy stone
half hidden from the eye
fair as a star
when only one is in the sky."
Robert Lewis Stevenson

I woke up at 0539 this morning and couldn't go back to sleep. I used to get up even earlier than this but not these days. If I can go back to sleep I am a lot more refreshed. It seems my best sleep is between six and eight. I usually stay up till eleven or so watching the tonight show(Ugh!, I don’t know why I punish myself with this) so its not as if I was getting too much sleep.

So after my morning prayer and small offering there was the coffee break and checking the news and email on the net. I got an email from one of my sister's. I had asked for some addresses of her children so my son and his fiancé could send them wedding invitations. She didn't send the addresses but asked when the wedding was going to be.

Around nine I did my pullups, pushups, stretches, setups, and so forth prepatory to the ride. The day was and remains rather mild. It might make 90 this afternoon but this morning it was around 75 or so with low clouds and a gentle wind out of the southeast. So I packed up my stuff and set out.

I carry sunglasses, wear a hat with a handkerchief underneath it to catch the sweat. I always wear gloves and take a cell phone and pocket knife and pepper spray to keep the dogs at bay if I encounter any I can't outrun. Of course I have to have the electric gate opener and I carry my drivers license just in case. It takes so long to get ready. I wish life could be simpler. I do this three times a week, Tuesday, Thursday, Sunday. The ride is a measured course of 13.5 miles. Not far, I know, but enough for me. I run into other cyclists fairly often. One told me his ride was 26 miles.

My bicycle is a found object. When I was in college I was living with who would become my second wife in a garage apartment. In the garage I found this old ten speed. It had a leather seat and was missing the derailer but I snagged it and eventually put it in service. During the years I was a runner it got very little use but eventually I gave up running in favor of bicycling for my main source of exercise. In the last year I replaced the handlebars. The old one was broken and mended with one of my really sloppy welding jobs. I put a dirt bike handlebar on it in place of the original racing style. After that I replaced the seat and then the cables for the gears. When I put it in service I had to buy a derailer and fix the gears but the cables I used then were to short so the shifter was almost under the seat and when I would peddle sometimes the inside of my leg would rub against it. I also added some grips and when a rear wheel spoke broke and couldn't be relaced I had to get a new rear wheel too. I am sure I have less than $75 in this bike. I have seen bikes for upwards of a thousand dollars. I just can’t get my head around that, at least not right now. I am sure it speaks volumes about our culture, society, and the individuals who buy them.

I don't know the make of the bike. The maker's mark is illegible having been scraped away once upon a time when someone refinished the bike. I think it was originally metallic gold but now it is a drab indescript brown with a little rust here and there. But I keep it well oiled and she operates smoothly enough. In the last year at 13.5 miles per ride that's 40.5 per week so in a year that comes to 2106 miles. When I ride I often think that I am really living up to the old adage that one should "use it up, wear it out, make it do". All the other cyclists I see are pretty much as "yuppiefied" as one can get and some look at me with either curiosity or disdain or derision or a combination. Some are friendly though. One guy I see most frequently always passes with a nice "hello, how are you today?". And they all pass me. Their bikes are a lot lighter than mine and they are all younger than me too. Besides I try to do my miles in tenth gear, uphill and down, just to make it more difficult. Sometimes, in fact most often, the wind is blowing too. It commonly is at least 15 or 20 MPH. Thirty miles per hour is not uncommon. That makes for a much more difficult ride. Uphill into a 30 MPH wind is hard work.

So I make it through the woods, up my driveway, over the hill and through the gate onto the county road. This takes me up another small hill where there is currently a dead skunk. Phew! I hold my breath and close my mouth as I go by the body. I doesn't smell as bad as when it was a fresh kill and I can see that in another week or so there will hardly be anything left what with the sun drying it out and the occasional vehicle again running over it. I confess a thought occurred to me to put it in an obnoxious neighbor’s mailbox. But no, I would never do that. This neighbor used to leave bottles at my driveway entrance hoping, I guess, that I would run over one and ruin a tire. But that was years ago now.

A little farther down this road I turn right. Today is the first time I have ridden on the roads' new surface and the loose gravel makes for a much less smooth passage. There is about a mile of this before I am onto another leg of the journey where the surface is smooth and I go along in almost complete silence except for the wind and my breathing and the sound of birds, now and then a dog barking or a bellowing cow. The great Dane I used to fear came out today and barked but only half heartedly. He and his crew used to chase me. I tried to make friends but he would have nothing to do with it, though the Labrador and Dalmatian that ran with him became friendly. Once I had to use the spray on him but mostly the wind blew it away. He keeps his distance now for which I am grateful. He is huge and I noted with interest in the news yesterday an animal control officer took a bite in the face from a great Dane she was trying to befriend with some snacks. Anyhow he left me pretty much alone today and I did him the same kindness continuing on my ride.

I passed by some wheat fields that were ruined by a recent hail storm and noted with interest that the corn and maize crops nearby have come back after being so severely pummeled that I thought the farmer would need to replant. The heads of the wheat are on the ground and can never stand up again so the harvesting machine would only get straw. The corn and maize, which were maybe a foot high when the storm struck, put out new growth from their roots and in another week or so one will be hard pressed to tell they were ever damaged.

Two farmers, no, three, were tilling their land to keep the weeds from growing up between the rows. I think I saw two people today besides these farmers. One was in an older Chrysler. I saw him twice, going and coming. The other was in a pickup. I see this pickup all the time but don't know where it "lives".

When the pickup passed I looked right at him to make eye contact, and waved as usual. Well, I should have been wearing my sunglasses because contact is what I got. A tiny piece of grit flew up from the vehicle’s passing and flew right into my left eye. The eye teared up and this eventually took care of the problem. Of course, I didn't rub my eye. But I sure wanted to. After about two miles it was much better though I could still feel "something" there. When I got home I washed it out with a garden hose and now it is almost like it never happened. I need to remember to look down immediately on the passing of vehicles if I am not wearing my sunglasses.

Well I guess I have gone on long enough with this post. If you are looking for meaning and purpose and great truths they are here but the accretions of mundane living shield them from the discerning spirit. I remember reading of a seeker, in China, he lived in a cave, and one day he was sweeping the dirt in front of his cave, just doing a little but necessary chore, you see, and suddenly it hit him, right between the eyes, so to speak. He "achieved" enlightenment on the spot. No doubt he was contemplating in the act of this mundane chore and no doubt he had been involved as a seeker of ultimate reality for most of his life, attending schools, finding teachers, comparing different approaches, experimenting with differing methods. So, if you come prepared, and pay the strictest attention, there is ultimate truth on hand everywhere, in the smallest things. I like that line from Robert Lewis Stevenson, used to rejoice in my heart of hearts when I would read it to my son:

A violet by a mossy stone
half hidden from the eye
fair as a star
when only one is in the sky.

Life is so simple. It is not necessary to look beyond the immediate for release from the perceived turmoil and trouble and pain of existence. You can spend your entire life looking for the answer. There are countless teachers, ministers, so called authorities on spiritual culture. All of their words are so much chaff to be blown away by the wind when the truly discerning mind finally penetrates the veil of tears, let’s down its guard and in a supreme act of vulnerability accepts the cosmos in its entirety. And the resonance from that confluence ripples across the stars enriching the heavens with another “fait a compli”.

Scatter Mind Chatter

About thirty minutes before sunset I went for a walk down the driveway. I had just created this blog and had been on the computer for an hour or so and needed a break. The driveway is almost a mile long. It goes through a wooded area and then breaks into a native pasture and runs up a gentle slope, tops a small hill, and continues on to the gate and the county road. It is a private place and few are the times that I see any people, except for the occasional passing car on the road and less frequently a bicyclist or someone out for a walk.

As I walked away from the house I mentally noted that I didn't have my gun. A few weeks ago I resolved to always carry a pistol or something since I have come way to close to stepping on some of the rattle snakes that share this place with me. They don't always, in fact they seldom, rattle or even coil. They just lie real still hoping that they will be overlooked. That is fine. I would love to overlook them but that would be very hard to do if I stepped on one. They are very difficult to see. Your eyes can easily pass over them. Basically you only see them if you focus on them.

I am walking down the drive. Many thoughts pass through my mind. I mainly scan the ground and look around at the sky, which is partly cloudy, and enjoy the movement of the south wind as it cools my skin and bends the grasses to its movement. Many birds come and go too, with the thoughts.

One thought is that it is possible to walk without intention. This is a meditative practice that takes years to perfect. I have not done this but I know it involves careful watching of the minute detail of the walking to the exclusion of all else.

Another thought comes to mind concerning the meaning of words. It occurs to me that every word mimics the creation of the universe. There is intention, then rising from that a vibration that is molded and shaped into a tangible thing that broadcasts meaning and purpose and completion.

I do not know what it is to walk without intention though I am sure it is more than just doing it as an automatic action, like breathing. Isn't intention subtly present even in breathing?

I stood on the hilltop and while the sun went down noted how far it has traveled since the winter solstice. At the spot where I stand, at the winter solstice, the sun sets "in" the chimney of a neighbors house I can see about a mile across the way. Now, just a month and a half from the summer solstice the sun is well on its way to the point of return up the horizon to a large clump of oaks which will see it again head south.

I walked back to the house and posted this entry. We will see what is next.