Blaze of Glory

02.13-16.10
You might have been thinking I am overdue for one of these missives, but we've never had a formalized schedule and at this time I play the disclaimer card. Just as external events are funneled into our brains with feeding tubes, events on a personal scale round our bends like a Ferris wheel at the Indy 500. That is because personal events are our own, always somehow impacted by the external, but taken helplessly into our flesh and blood, living in the moment, moments to be lived through. This produces a disorder known as mood swings. I'm confident the much mentioned, updated Official Manual for Identification of Misfits has a few chapters on emotional upheaval. This book and its updates fall into the category of Racism, designed to separate and condemn with labels, racism itself a label, anything unacceptable to the standard BAU nerve center of the Zombie Food Court.

It isn't my intent to bore or terrorize you with newsy commentary. You see what I see. Marja on My Mind... we remember too well Falluja and sigh, Jenin, where it was said blood ran in the gutters. The New World model for war means with each successive slaughter the bar is lowered further. Wars don't end, they just get branded. Its perfectly legal. And this one is brought to you by ___.

Why? Its all about ego, that compartment of the overindulged mind devoid of compassion. There is no room, no stray pang of conscience crying out for attention when someone lives off that high from strutting the razor's edge. Its all about looking good, making the scene, control of the couriers, savoring the sweetness of breathing rarefied air. Mammoth testosterone on nuclear steroids, a weakness unveiling Napoleon's complex metastasizing into Ponce de Leon's search for the fountain of youth. All of it waste. If you survive at all, life unfolds anyway, the great majority of the human species under an impression we have greater control than we actually do. It is a game of chance decided by how well or how badly we utilize our playing hand.

As far away and mellow as one might arrange themselves, the knowledge of the external comes to us in the tragedy of what is happening to a perfectly beautiful planet. Our appreciation and gratitude are increased by sorrow that it has been so maligned. Overpopulation coupled with that segment of humanity's predators, gift wrapped in a box of spiritual emptiness remains our undoing, just as we recognized the speed which the past was dropped for the reign of the Sopranos, we're traveling warp speed now. Stupid has become an exponentially stupid reality show. The advertisement is actually the complete antithesis of the body copy. The series is produced on location dreamed up by unemployed Tinseltown scriptwriters on Crack. It defies all logical lines of thought unless you too are on Crack. I fully expect to see Palin and Nancy Grace in the Oval Office following the departure of Obama's character. The past is only good for one or two generations, if even that much. Based on what has been done to that which we think we know of the past, who is to say with all certainty the past is anything remotely like you imagine it to have been? Each successive group of monarchs overwrites the rules to suit the personal preference of the monarchy of the day. Some of them are less creative than others and take up where the last left off.

*****

The Forces are like the wind behind events propelling experience at the level you require to understand. You can be a fool and take them individually and for granted, or aware something else is in control. There's not much in between those two states. When you come into contact with the Forces, you pay attention. It doesn't matter what you call them, signs or omens, good and evil, only that you are aware these roadsigns don't fool around. I have noticed they carry one feature in common, perhaps the supreme reason they exist at all and that is always having the affect of reaffirming values, who is really who and what is really what, and strengthening compassion, the opposite of ego. When you have compassion you possess ever expanding room for everything of real value.

*****

We lost Louis last week. To the best of my knowledge he was taken down by a Mountain Lion very shortly after running off in the darkness after something unknown. We searched alternately for hours. As I was passing a familiar uninhabited stretch of the near landscape, a Mountain Lion crossed my headlights like a wheat colored ghost, feline, fast ... (the sign, the omen). That this image was presented as it was in icy temps, ethereally, late, searching in vain as we were, was a certainty how Louie's physical story ended. It seemed he was destined to leave this life in a blaze of glory. Considering the rude awakening he was born into followed by abandonment in the desert, he managed a reprieve in which he experienced a real home where our animal brethren are accorded all the rights and respect shown naturally to a beloved family member. He gave his all to us and got it back in spades. The Forces clearly say he is not on dogs' death row, not lingering on veterinary life support, not lying by the side of the highway or bagged in a dumpster. Wondering would have been unbearable. I was shown the truth to be saved unnecessary suffering. Thanks Louie. Still giving I see. Rest in peace. We shall meet again and then there will be no separation.