Chilly Day

Yellow leaves.
The trees are thin.

Winter comes!

The sound of warm air.






With sincere apologies to Basho, Buson, and Issa. Although I'm sure they're smiling at my tricks.

Thoughts and Reveries

I so enjoy chatting with informed and perceptive people. Their insights and observations on things are so often revelatory in both a surprising and pleasant manner.

Yesterday evening I was conversing with a good friend de rerum natura, so to speak, and while treating of the socio-political aspect of this world I mentioned a paragraph I’d run across while reading the biography Caesar by Christian Meier.

At first I found the book to be something of a slow and turgid go. But then I encountered a remark the author made which seemed to me to so closely mirror the contemporary nature of things that the parallel instantly came to mind.
In the late Republic the august and powerful of Rome (we’ll avoid such nasty terms as "venal" and "grasping") identified their own interests so closely with the established order, i.e. the Republic, that any criticism directed at them they regarded as an assault on the Republic itself. As a consequence of this, these people of power were willing to undermine the very order they claimed to protect in order to defend themselves. Thereupon followed Caesar, the Empire, unbridled tyranny, etc.

The current Administration and the powerful who own it claim to be the true inheritors and defenders of the freedoms which are the foundation of this nation’s political order. At the same time they are willing to abrogate those very freedoms in defense of their own interests. It is as though political liberties are too precious to be entrusted to the people. The privileged and the powerful tell (not ask) the rest of us free-born citizens to trust them to dispense our liberties to us as they see fit. At the same time they shamefacedly would have us believe that the blood of our children is being nobly shed. They prefer we believe this, rather than have us think that our loved ones are being led to the slaughter in furthering the greed and cynical avarice of the rich and powerful.

For shame.

There is no heroism in the sight a faceless, dismembered body lying in a splash of blood. Nor is there nobility in the screams of the torn and burning victims of battle. War is an obscenity. Period.
We should regard as heroes those who teach and nurture the young. The compassionate and caring, those who give of their strength to support and shelter . . . these are the people who deserve our praises and laurels. The mild and the merciful deserve our praise and emulation.

Imagine a happy world at peace, with no hunger, where those who hurt find healing and are comforted. And where those in need find mercy and compassion. We can make such a world, if we choose to do so. We are humankind, and we have been given the gift to craft such a world.

At times the world can be a hard and difficult place, it’s true. What with droughts and plagues and all manner of natural disasters. But despite these things the world is never heartless. It is only people who are heartless, and they must choose to be so. Even the most fearsome beasts do not kill to prove a point or in pursuit of abstractions. It is people who choose to create misery where there is no reason for it. Then they seek to justify their hatred and brutality by saying simply "That’s just the way things are", and think themselves clever in perpetuating this miserable philosophy.

But that's not the way things are. People choose to act in a way that perpetuates a world of hate and brutality.
Because it's easy to be cruel. It was easy to win the war. We're finding it far harder to secure the peace.

We must choose to live in such a way that it becomes easier to love than to hate. The choice, after all, is ours.

"You rant, my friend."

Ah, perhaps. But it's for a good cause. What a beautiful day. More wine?

My Many Thanks

“Voila! For your birthday!”

“Why, my good friend D’Esseinte! What an absolute astonishment! I am truly humbled.”

“Tosh! It’s nothing. By the time one reaches my age one comes to know that good friends exceed by far the value of any such trifles. It fills my heart with gladness to be able to proffer such tidings of gratitude for so many years of good friendship.”

“Well, still, my deepest thanks! After all, I know a bit about the world, thus I’m full well aware that it isn’t an easy thing to come by such a . . .an, uh . . .”

“An aardvark.”

“Yes. Certainly. Such an aardvark without some expenditure of time and effort. Particularly one of such resplendent mien.”

“It’s all a matter of who you know, my good friend. It just so happens that the ambassador of a certain well-known insular subcontinent (which will remain unspecified) happened to owe me a small favor arising out of the capture of that rascally Ned Kelly. God save us from the Irish! Or is it for the Irish? I forget. Still, I fear I’ve said too much already.”

“Well, again, my humblest thanks. I know just the place for the little fellow. Look at his little grin! He really does grow on you! Kootchie-kootchie.”

“They are among the most intelligent of their kind, you know.”

“Yeeesss . . . No doubt. Spinoza would blush. It’s a good thing they haven’t WMD’s.”

“Ho! Nor STD’s, as far as I know.”

“I’ll not ask how.”

“How was you birthday otherwise?”

“Ah, my dear Duc. The passing years have brought me the knowledge that it is truly a lucky man who has friends who think of him and wish him well. No possessions can compare to the kind attentions of those who are close. On my birthday I was fortunate to receive best wishes from those few who are near to my heart. One friend I value in particular treated me to dinner and a late-night conversation over music and wine. In sum, it was a fine, fine day.”

“Well, be so kind as to number me among your friends. Let me see, what does Le Monde have to say about your horoscope.”

“You know I hardly believe those things.”

“I know, I know. But it either that or the I Ching. Zounds! What a coincidence! The Chinese have put two people into orbit! I didn’t see that one coming.”

“We so infrequently do. More wine?”

Grand Malaise

Yes, yes. I saw that episode as well. I was intensely interested in watching his eyes. I wanted to know how his look would appear while he was in the grip of grand mal. It's true that Caesar still seemed to be looking at something. Though I feel confident in saying that at the time he saw nothing. Once the darkness comes there is nothing more to see.

It happened to me once while I was with a woman I loved. She told me later that I had such a fearful look of rage in my eyes. Of course, I remembered nothing. Though I'm sorry she saw that look on my face. I think it may have frightened her.

Undoubtedly there are those who would say that at such time my fury is surfacing within me. Perhaps. I'm certain there are aspects of myself of which I'm not wholly aware.

I remember well the look on the doctor's face when he first pronounced his diagnosis over me. The way his eyes widened as he drew in his breath and said the word. My God, he may as well have pronounced the word "Death" over me. Oddly enough, I was quite unmoved by it. Perhaps because I was so young. After all, it was, what, over forty-five years ago?

I distinctly remember thinking, however, "Well, how bad can it be? Caesar had it, and it doesn't seem to have gotten in his way."

Also, it struck me as being a sort of dramatic, theatrical thing. I was entering my phase of adolescent Romantic narcissism. How perfect, for a lone tormented genius to be actually, well, tormented by something. Otherwise, it would simply be an empty gesture.

I fear I may have had too many such episodes while alone, and that I may have actually done some damage to myself. Although I can't match any of the disservice I've done to my poor but patient body directly to a grand mal, God knows what knocking around I did to myself when I writhed in private.

Oh, it's fully under control. Thanks be to medication. But it's lost its Romance. Now it's simply one element in a constellation of neural mishaps. But I remain unmoved. It's simply karma. Life is rarely perfect. We get on with our laughter and tears, our joys and our pains. And the better us seek to comfort those less fortunate. I think it's the way the world should be.

But I ramble. Another wine?