First,
On the edges of Empire there is always turmoil, a life and death struggle for profit and gain. As an Empire expands or contracts there is friction. People die where Empire's grind.. One side wants progress, the other tradition, or, maybe a religion. Profit wants natural resources, so do the natives. Profit wants a route through the neighborhood, Profit versus the Natives. One competitor versus another competitor, profit versus profit, Church versus church, has it not been this way since the beginning of time?
Isn't that what's happening in Mexico right now? Life and Death to snuggle up and feed the Empire? Drug Empires grinding at the border?
I bring this up because I don't like what I see in the rest of the world. ( Careful, I'm informed primarily through the sound-bites that I'm fed.) Valenzuela and Russia holding joint military exercises, North Korea launching a ballistic missile, China challenging US ships in international waters, Iran pursuing The Bomb, Brazil's president blaming the "blue eyed" leaders of the world for current economic woes, and protests in Europe denouncing American greed.
That's aside from two Imperialistic wars in the Middle East . Wars where oil profits and pipelines, and lies, have overshadowed any illusion of righteousness. Damning to our image, burying the country in debt, enpowering our enemies Bad, bad, bad. Fuel for anti-American sentiment world-wide. . Watching the news, it would seem the new cold war is the World vs the US, and it's preparing to heat up.
Now,
Say I'm crazy, but you know how you are about Your money. You want it. When people owe you money you want to be paid, with juice. Normally, you don't want to loan more money until you're paid what you're owed. And loaning money so you can be paid interest on money already owed, probably a bad investment. Insolvency can lead to unpleasantness. People want their money. It is the same in all languages, in all countries, in all cultures. Isn't money money?
We owe a lot of money world-wide. Worse yet for the people we owe, the Government keeps printing more money which makes the money worth less. We ran out of money to use because all the money left the country. It really is a great scam. We import everything we need for dollars, then print more dollars when we run out.. Something for nothing. Of course, someday, when the world realizes dollars are worthless, there will have to be a war to settle the debt because, People want their money.
The only way we'll be able to repay them is to have a war, and bill our opponents for reparations.
All war is for profit, this one will be no different; Everybody will expect to be paid, Nobody will have the money, Somebody will get angry, Anybody whom can make a profit will get involved. We'll call this next war "the honest war". No bullshit about the axis of evil, or Liberation , or God, just the plain old truth, " we owe you money and we can't pay it, oh, and we'll print more money so we can have some too, despite that making your money worth less. " .............. That's why I don't like what I see, the deal isn't fair, and you know how you are about Your money, The rest of the world is the same way.
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
The Dessert Thing
Whichever dessert was for them who want more is for me. I want it all.
'All' is misleading. I want that which escapes all; the ability to plane jump, which equates to cycle jumping, which equates to being a time bandit, which equates to... no, not immortality, but being able to hang around until you're ready to give it up. Who would really like hanging out before the species existed? Or after its demise? As I've explained before, a thousand years as a Redwood tree would be a long time if there wasn't a little ent involved in the stretch. Without sharing life, without human co-existence, life simply is existence. Who wants the world without someone to share it? Or at least envy you having it? Without the fifth necessity of life involved (Love) you might as well be back on Mars watching the place dry up and go cold.
Here in the 'shack' it is accepted knowledge that the secret to the universe is, "Why is everything circling, round, a sphere, cyclical?" (Obsessed With Time 05Jan09) Even the stuff that doesn't cycle along with us, seems to cycle through our universe; ie Haley's comet, or that big asteroid that will miss us in 2026* (maybe) and then come back in 2037* and try again. It just occurred to me, why doesn't that asteroid come by every eleven years and take a shot? Does it only get two and then automatically extinguish itself on somebody else's planet? You never know, for all of mankind's importance to the Universe, we could be but a moving target in someone else's game.
That's why it's important to be able to check out when you want; living conditions could deteriorate here on planet Earth to the point where existence would be undesirable. It is a testimonial to happiness in ones life, and the quality of life one enjoys, this fight we all give to exist; our love of life. But if the place was suddenly a big fireball, who would want to be immortal for the eternal roast. Starting to sound a little fire and brimstoneish.
Love is the great transcendent. Without love, life would cease to exist, just as it would without air, water, food or shelter. This said and agreed upon, I think it would be fair to say that the next plane is only attainable with love and consciousness, and then only if the conscious is an entity in itself , the body being but a cocoon.
Is that how the ancient Egyptians thought? Did they believe they would be revived in the same body? Or that their conscious was going to hang out elsewhere for awhile, and they'd be back for the body later? I'm going with the conscious becomes an entity in itself, and as part of the larger force, or...
Anyway, if there was a Dessert at the table for me, it was the soft hand that served the German Chocolate Cake, and half the equation, for an escape from this doomed planet. The other half of the equation is still hidden in the cycle thing, which is remotely tied to the dessert thing, which is as accurate as this paper, but does not get me any closer to cycle jumping, or the secrets of the universe.
Now my friend, if there is anything else that you'd like to know about desserts, let me know, please.
*Dates are from memory and probably inaccurate. The point is the same, and the asteroid is coming.
'All' is misleading. I want that which escapes all; the ability to plane jump, which equates to cycle jumping, which equates to being a time bandit, which equates to... no, not immortality, but being able to hang around until you're ready to give it up. Who would really like hanging out before the species existed? Or after its demise? As I've explained before, a thousand years as a Redwood tree would be a long time if there wasn't a little ent involved in the stretch. Without sharing life, without human co-existence, life simply is existence. Who wants the world without someone to share it? Or at least envy you having it? Without the fifth necessity of life involved (Love) you might as well be back on Mars watching the place dry up and go cold.
Here in the 'shack' it is accepted knowledge that the secret to the universe is, "Why is everything circling, round, a sphere, cyclical?" (Obsessed With Time 05Jan09) Even the stuff that doesn't cycle along with us, seems to cycle through our universe; ie Haley's comet, or that big asteroid that will miss us in 2026* (maybe) and then come back in 2037* and try again. It just occurred to me, why doesn't that asteroid come by every eleven years and take a shot? Does it only get two and then automatically extinguish itself on somebody else's planet? You never know, for all of mankind's importance to the Universe, we could be but a moving target in someone else's game.
That's why it's important to be able to check out when you want; living conditions could deteriorate here on planet Earth to the point where existence would be undesirable. It is a testimonial to happiness in ones life, and the quality of life one enjoys, this fight we all give to exist; our love of life. But if the place was suddenly a big fireball, who would want to be immortal for the eternal roast. Starting to sound a little fire and brimstoneish.
Love is the great transcendent. Without love, life would cease to exist, just as it would without air, water, food or shelter. This said and agreed upon, I think it would be fair to say that the next plane is only attainable with love and consciousness, and then only if the conscious is an entity in itself , the body being but a cocoon.
Is that how the ancient Egyptians thought? Did they believe they would be revived in the same body? Or that their conscious was going to hang out elsewhere for awhile, and they'd be back for the body later? I'm going with the conscious becomes an entity in itself, and as part of the larger force, or...
Anyway, if there was a Dessert at the table for me, it was the soft hand that served the German Chocolate Cake, and half the equation, for an escape from this doomed planet. The other half of the equation is still hidden in the cycle thing, which is remotely tied to the dessert thing, which is as accurate as this paper, but does not get me any closer to cycle jumping, or the secrets of the universe.
Now my friend, if there is anything else that you'd like to know about desserts, let me know, please.
*Dates are from memory and probably inaccurate. The point is the same, and the asteroid is coming.
Friday, May 9, 2008
The Problem with Mortality
The problem of mortality has been bothering me quite a bit lately. I think it has to do with too much time to think. Life and space; those two things that bother me when I think about them. Space because it's infinite. Life because it's finite. I don't like the idea of life being over. What about all those tomorrows I'll never know? What about all those promises on tomorrow? I don't like the idea of space never ending. It seems to me at a certain point space should turn to solid. When I think about it, space and death should switch characteristics. Life should go on forever (true believers believe it does). Space should have some boundaries. Nope, end of the line, got to tunnel from here. Shake it up a little.
A man shouldn't have to wind down to mortality. At twenty I figured I had 80+ of Life left, but at 51 I KNOW that I have used at least almost half my Life. If I knew I could only live till I was sixty,... Oh, but even figuring to live to 105... every day another step toward the inevitable. Live every day like it's your last. Every day the odds of another decreases a little. Finite. But if life and space could switch characteristics, at fifty one you'd know you were half way to solid, and could look forward to a new world of tunneling.
All of this contemplation has led me to a new conclusion though. Given the choice of being the soul survivor of a dead world and spending the rest of my life alone, but having it all, or perishing with the rest of mankind at once in a meteor cloud or some other catastrophe, I would prefer to die with the masses in the calamity, rather than of loneliness. It has just occurred to me where I want to be buried, too. I don't. I want to be taken to the edge of the atmoshere and fired into space like a human cannonball. Then, even if life has ended, the road will go on forever.
A man shouldn't have to wind down to mortality. At twenty I figured I had 80+ of Life left, but at 51 I KNOW that I have used at least almost half my Life. If I knew I could only live till I was sixty,... Oh, but even figuring to live to 105... every day another step toward the inevitable. Live every day like it's your last. Every day the odds of another decreases a little. Finite. But if life and space could switch characteristics, at fifty one you'd know you were half way to solid, and could look forward to a new world of tunneling.
All of this contemplation has led me to a new conclusion though. Given the choice of being the soul survivor of a dead world and spending the rest of my life alone, but having it all, or perishing with the rest of mankind at once in a meteor cloud or some other catastrophe, I would prefer to die with the masses in the calamity, rather than of loneliness. It has just occurred to me where I want to be buried, too. I don't. I want to be taken to the edge of the atmoshere and fired into space like a human cannonball. Then, even if life has ended, the road will go on forever.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
City-Lag
The frost on the ground is barely surviving in the warmth of a coming rainstorm. The thick fog that covers Illinois valley, a fog I normally look down upon like a white sea from my perch on the mountain, slowly is crawling up sleepy valley canyon, veiling the world with a sheer nightgown of mist. High thin clouds, pink in the morning sun, will soon give way to thick, dark clouds and rain .The slow, beautiful, serene world of the mountains.
Compared to the stimulation and excitement of the city; the fast paced, twelve lane highways at rush hour, fast food, all night everything, all those people trying to squeeze as much life as possible out of every moment as they scramble full speed through their daily routine. It is understandable why returning to the mountains can result in city-lag (society is not always really such a rat race).
Our next door neighbor in California, Darryl, had rats infesting the whole neighborhood from their base in the boxed-in eaves on his garage; one summer evening just before dark I watched them from the roof of the house exit from a hole in the eave and gather on the roof of his carport. It was like a Disney movie; old fat rats walking slowly and sniffing, young rats wrestling, playing, and all the rats in their prime racing from the carport roof to the pecan tree. It's limbs overhanging the roof, and all of the rats streaking through the neighborhood via the trees. It was a commune, not a society.
The ant world is more of a society, with the hill as the city. One ant out on an adventure, sees the sun going down and decides to head home. As he returns to the hill, other ants returning from their day join him. The closer they get to the hill, the more ants there are, until their lines get thicker, multi-directional, full of worker ants, foragers, scouts etc. The ant speed of movement increases proportionately in their distance from the hill. Suddenly there is a hurry. Movement more purposeful and straight. There is more control and supervision, larger enforcement ants and traffic direction, more societal requirements. The door is crazy. Ants bumping into each other. Ants bringing in leaves. Ants everywhere. Move or get walked on. There is no time to wander back and forth looking for grasshopper limbs, no time to explore cracks; one might get in the way, or an enforcer ant could get the wrong impression.
First of course is the drop in blood pressure and the natural lull after the rush. The senses relax without the constant radars up that are necessary in the city. Secondly is the realization that the party is over and it's back to cooking for oneself (two more weeks and it's Webber time). The convenience of fast food and restaurants, a poor man's fantasy. Reality can be depressing. Another realization is it's hard to be lazy in the mountains: find and cut firewood, move large rocks onto the driveway and crush them with a sledgehammer, keep the fire in the stove burning.
City-lag is like being lazy; depressing to know there are lots of things to do and all work! Work isn't exciting like the city. It's work, but without the work I'm bored. The city was fun. Fun takes money. Money takes work.
Finally, normally the second or third night back, you sleep fourteen or fifteen hours and wake up with your senses running at mountain speed. Akin to four or five deep breaths after a fast dash."There's no hurry now." The return to a world unobstructed with urban sprawl and strip-malls, devoid of traffic and people, and nary a neighbor I can see. I've been back nine days and not been once approached by a panhandler. The only company I've had is a friend and the neighbor's dogs on their passing stroll to the school bus stop. Plenty to sniff there before returning home. The good life.
My friend showed up two days after my return from the city. He works at the hardware store. He arrived with a six-pack of Corona and a bottle of Clamato juice. He loves my glass-shack. The shack has a certain lure to the cowboying, frontier male in all of us.
My friend owes a large mortgage, is 52, and has 28 years left on his mortgage. If not for his wife (I hear that a lot), he'd prefer to live in a shack next to the national forest, and own it in five years. He would like to retire in ten years. "Ten years is a long time," I tell him, "but something will happen. Have faith."
The evening view is spectacular. Still suffering from city-lag, as he talks I feel better; I remember to count my blessings. I think about that commercial, "You don't need a nip and tuck, you need a plan." Oregon has been my plan for twenty years. I'm here. At 51 I'm comfortable. The pace and relaxed state is good for me.
The city-lag releases it's grip. The clamato-beer is good. My friend leaves and I'm grateful for the visit. Suddenly, I remember with earnest again that life is wonderful, every miserable moment.
Be happy.
Compared to the stimulation and excitement of the city; the fast paced, twelve lane highways at rush hour, fast food, all night everything, all those people trying to squeeze as much life as possible out of every moment as they scramble full speed through their daily routine. It is understandable why returning to the mountains can result in city-lag (society is not always really such a rat race).
Our next door neighbor in California, Darryl, had rats infesting the whole neighborhood from their base in the boxed-in eaves on his garage; one summer evening just before dark I watched them from the roof of the house exit from a hole in the eave and gather on the roof of his carport. It was like a Disney movie; old fat rats walking slowly and sniffing, young rats wrestling, playing, and all the rats in their prime racing from the carport roof to the pecan tree. It's limbs overhanging the roof, and all of the rats streaking through the neighborhood via the trees. It was a commune, not a society.
The ant world is more of a society, with the hill as the city. One ant out on an adventure, sees the sun going down and decides to head home. As he returns to the hill, other ants returning from their day join him. The closer they get to the hill, the more ants there are, until their lines get thicker, multi-directional, full of worker ants, foragers, scouts etc. The ant speed of movement increases proportionately in their distance from the hill. Suddenly there is a hurry. Movement more purposeful and straight. There is more control and supervision, larger enforcement ants and traffic direction, more societal requirements. The door is crazy. Ants bumping into each other. Ants bringing in leaves. Ants everywhere. Move or get walked on. There is no time to wander back and forth looking for grasshopper limbs, no time to explore cracks; one might get in the way, or an enforcer ant could get the wrong impression.
First of course is the drop in blood pressure and the natural lull after the rush. The senses relax without the constant radars up that are necessary in the city. Secondly is the realization that the party is over and it's back to cooking for oneself (two more weeks and it's Webber time). The convenience of fast food and restaurants, a poor man's fantasy. Reality can be depressing. Another realization is it's hard to be lazy in the mountains: find and cut firewood, move large rocks onto the driveway and crush them with a sledgehammer, keep the fire in the stove burning.
City-lag is like being lazy; depressing to know there are lots of things to do and all work! Work isn't exciting like the city. It's work, but without the work I'm bored. The city was fun. Fun takes money. Money takes work.
Finally, normally the second or third night back, you sleep fourteen or fifteen hours and wake up with your senses running at mountain speed. Akin to four or five deep breaths after a fast dash."There's no hurry now." The return to a world unobstructed with urban sprawl and strip-malls, devoid of traffic and people, and nary a neighbor I can see. I've been back nine days and not been once approached by a panhandler. The only company I've had is a friend and the neighbor's dogs on their passing stroll to the school bus stop. Plenty to sniff there before returning home. The good life.
My friend showed up two days after my return from the city. He works at the hardware store. He arrived with a six-pack of Corona and a bottle of Clamato juice. He loves my glass-shack. The shack has a certain lure to the cowboying, frontier male in all of us.
My friend owes a large mortgage, is 52, and has 28 years left on his mortgage. If not for his wife (I hear that a lot), he'd prefer to live in a shack next to the national forest, and own it in five years. He would like to retire in ten years. "Ten years is a long time," I tell him, "but something will happen. Have faith."
The evening view is spectacular. Still suffering from city-lag, as he talks I feel better; I remember to count my blessings. I think about that commercial, "You don't need a nip and tuck, you need a plan." Oregon has been my plan for twenty years. I'm here. At 51 I'm comfortable. The pace and relaxed state is good for me.
The city-lag releases it's grip. The clamato-beer is good. My friend leaves and I'm grateful for the visit. Suddenly, I remember with earnest again that life is wonderful, every miserable moment.
Be happy.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Wisdom
Fifteen years ago I was 36 years old. You boys were 10 and 12. Now you are young men. The last fifteen years in your lives were the beginning. Looking back there are so many benchmarks, so many changes. Time is indexed and in retrospect those will be the years that passed slowest. So hang onto your hats, young men, because the train picks up speed from this point and it doesn't slow down for awhile. When you look back it turns to a blur. If you add any king of substance abuse, it disappears completely. Remember that, and this; Every moment killed in boredom, drunkenness and/or drug abuse... when you're on the 'other side of the mountain' you'll want it back. That is a pseudo apology for not always being my best, not being compassionate or attentive enough at times, and giving too many of the precious moments away. The precious moments being the ones when you were boys. That I feel so guilty about.
I'm older now. And you boys are men. You both rarely have time for me. I guess you reap what you sow, but it seems to me I gave more then this. I wouldn't have tried at all if I would have known that for all my efforts I'd be shown no gratitude or love. I guess what I'm trying to say is: Although I tried to be young and one of the boys when you were growing up, as you reached manhood, I was forced to grow up too. My investments were paying no dividends. Another failed marriage, no love or respect from my sons, sold the family home, and I limped out of town depressed, heartbroken, and confused. Not to mention fifty years old and a net worth of $34,000. I had to grow up. I was terrified I had over extended my refusal to grow up AND didn't have the resources to make up for my recklessness.
I live a quiet life alone now. I go days in the southern Oregon mountains without speaking to other people. There is no bathroom, or kitchen. No excitement. Nothing artificial. Just reflection, remorse, understanding of the past, looking to the future, and hopefully wisdom applied. I am forced to be serious and responsible. I love you boys despite yourselves, so why can't I be loved, despite myself? I take no credit for your accomplishments but don't I get a cut of love for being there and trying? Don't all of you carry some of me with you every day?
I love you boys.
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