Either Way [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

At this time of year, sleeping as we do with the window open, I have the impression that the birds sing the sun to rise. In the evening, they sing it to rest beneath the horizon. What happens between those two songs is always a surprise.

I recently read a quote by Aldous Huxley that struck a deep chord: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly, child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly, even though you’re feeling deeply…”

Dogga has been a great teacher. He is highly sensitive, keenly keyed into us. He feels everything I feel, we feel. If we start to take ourselves too seriously, he runs for his safe haven in the bathroom. At first his retreat to the safety of the bathroom brought us up short. It was like being slapped into consciousness. “We’re upsetting the dog.” We’d breathe, step back and change our tone. We’d lighten up. He’s become a barometer of whether or not we’re taking ourselves too seriously and we’ve learned to lighten up before he feels the need to retreat.

It’s possible: walking lightly through life can be learned.

“Look at the color of the sky!” she said, aiming her camera.

“It’s a Colorado sky,” I mused. The blue was intense against the new spring-green leaves.

We were slow-walking on one of our favorite trails, talking about the past decade, the seeming-forced peeling back of layers, the necessity of letting go of grievances and disappointments when she suddenly pulled her camera from her pocket. “Look at the color of the sky!” I smiled: evidence of not taking anything – especially ourselves – too seriously.

“So throw away your baggage and go forward. There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet, trying to suck you down into fear and pity and despair. That’s why you must walk so lightly…”

It’s an ongoing life lesson. Feeling deeply need not be weighty. Especially now. There are, indeed, quicksands all around us, sucking at our feet. It’s always an option to disappear into the muck of fear and despair. As we have learned – and continue to learn – hopelessness is a heavy load. As is resentment. Regret is a guaranteed back-breaker. Denial is the heaviest bag of all. Our nation is currently learning this lesson.

The surprise between the birdsong? We can walk with the light astonishment of the new day or we can drag along yesterday’s heavy baggage. It’s our path, it’s our choice, either way.

[I just finished writing this post when Guitar Jim sent this gorgeous song by Darrell Scott. Serendipity, the song says it better than I ever will]:

read Kerri’s blogpost about TREES AND SKY

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Water, Water [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

‘For in the end, he [Huxley] was trying to tell us that what afflicted the people in Brave New World was not that they were laughing instead of thinking, but that they did not know what they were laughing about and why they had stopped thinking.” ~ Neil Postman, Amusing Ourselves To Death

The water rises.

Last week, at dinner, disconcerted by the headlines, 20 asked if I could explain the politics of our day. “Entertainment,” I thought, but did not say. We – the community – talk about politics – the news of the day – as if it was serious business – because we want it to be – we need it to be – but we seem mortally blind to the emptiness of the chatter. Song and dance. The purpose, after all, is not to inform us but to keep us hooked.

“Water, water, everywhere. Nor any drop to drink.” ~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Rime of the Ancient Mariner

Thirst. Purpose.

It’s not an insignificant question to ask, “What is the reason for being?” We seem puzzled by our purpose or at least conflicted, as made apparent by our insatiable division. My theory is that our division is a distraction, it’s an old colonialists trick, baked into our national dna. A magician’s sleight of hand. There’s no better way to control a populace than to divide them. A people united – and not distracted – demand purposeful and responsible governance. Honest discourse. They demand it of themselves, too. They live from and in-service to a cohesive and shared narrative. The deep root of integrity. Purpose, after all, when clear and meaning-full, is always about others; it is always about service to the community. The betterment of all.

“You drown not by falling into a river, but by staying submerged in it.” ~Paulo Coehlo

May You, 55″x36″, mixed media

read Kerri’s blogpost about WATER WATER

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Embrace The Flaw [on Merely A Thought Monday]

Every week in our website inbox, I find an ominous message: “There are some serious flaws in your code.” No kidding. If they only knew half the stuff that runs through my mind!

The message also warns that the serious-flaws-in-my-code are making it hard for Google to find me. Suddenly, I’m not so sure having flaws in my code is a bad thing. Maybe I don’t want Google to find me. In this brave-new-world, I like the idea that my every move isn’t easily tracked and translated into data miraculously transformed into personalized advertisements.

I realize that the flaws in my data will probably mean that I am less successful than I otherwise might be. I will accumulate less “likes” and my pool of “followers” and “friends” will not reach as wide or deep as it otherwise might. I’m regularly chastised about my flawed code. My shallow success is possibly attributed to my inept working of the social net.

The goal is to gather the audience, with no regard whether or not there is anything worthwhile to say. I’d say that’s a fair summation. It’s a popularity contest sans rules or decorum. It’s the same thin philosophy that confuses a test score with learning or a banana-taped-to-the-wall as meaningful art. We are the story Jane Goodall tells: the monkey banging the garbage can is leader for a day until the pack recognizes that his noise is just that: noise. Not leadership.

I’m more than grateful that I have serious flaws in my code. I may or may not have anything worthwhile to say. That is not for me to decide. As Sam once advised me so many years ago, the quality of my friends matter. Not the number.

Google’s divining rod might have trouble finding my well but I’m comfortable knowing my well is plentiful either way.

[Happy Halloween, by-the-way]

read Kerri’s blogpost about Explore Beyond

Discern [on Flawed Wednesday]

“For in the end, he [Aldous Huxley] was trying to tell us what afflicted the people in ‘Brave New World’ was not that they were laughing instead of thinking, but that they did not know what they were laughing about and why they had stopped thinking.” Neil Postman, Amusing Ourselves To Death: Public Discourse In The Age Of Show Business

Neil Postman wrote Amusing Ourselves To Death in 1985. Cassandra, sounding the alarm to a community too distracted to listen. Were he alive today, he’d think – but would not say – “I told you so.” All the quotes in this post are his.

I read in my daily-news-horror-trawl a quote from a Wyoming man who believes he’s protected from the pandemic because of the color of his hair. It might sound wacky until you consider that his staunch belief in the virus’ preference for hair color is just one of the many misinformation narratives currently being fed to the angry and easily led. He is, without question or thought, breathing the gas of a political party that wants to keep him distracted, fearful and high.

If you are not choking on the fumes of excessive gaslighting, then you are among those whose eyes are burning from the corrosive air it produces. Are you as tired as I am of reading accounts of deathbed appeals for the vaccine? It is too late, in your final moments of life, to realize you’ve been duped. It’s a tragedy. Are you as disgusted as I am, having been witness to the undeniable violence of the insurrection, of listening to the blatant denials? Despite what your eyes saw, it was just another day of tourists wandering through the Capitol. Gaslight tears.

During the first year of the pandemic an acquaintance latched onto a comorbidity table lifted from the CDC website and circulated as “proof” that COVID was less dangerous than the common cold. It was, of course, taken out of context. A quick visit to the CDC website (seriously, less than 30 seconds), viewed in context and with an understanding of the meaning of the word “comorbidity,” easily debunked the claim. Our acquaintance, enraged, doubled down on his claim of “proof” – though he could not be bothered to spend 30 seconds to check the poison gas that he was gulping.

“When a population becomes distracted by trivia, when cultural life is redefined as a perpetual round of entertainments, when serious public conversation becomes a form of baby-talk, when, in short, a people become an audience, and their public business a vaudeville act, then a nation finds itself at risk; culture-death is a clear possibility.”

The legal defense has been successfully used to defend both Tucker Carlson and Rachel Maddow: the courts ruled that reasonable viewers should know the difference between news and opinion. This is news. This is not.

Do we have the ability to differentiate between public business and a vaudeville act? The evidence is not hopeful.

The court’s ruling, then, is likely based on a faulty premise: that people are able to differentiate. That the audience is reason-able or values reason. Able-To-Reason. Reason is the power to think, understand and form judgments through a process of logic. In order to be reasonable one must value reason. One must want it.

Logic and reason, both assume the inclination and capacity to question. Curiosity, real curiosity, does not seek agreement or group think. It seeks to step into the gap between what is espoused and what is lived. It seeks solid ground to build upon so must recognize sand when it sees it.

And, what if “reason” long ago fled the coop? Or, what if “reason,” has never been a dominant trait in the coop in the first place? What if discernment dies in the presence of so much gas?

“Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance.”

read Kerri’s blog post about IT DOESN’T KNOW