@dkmich
the in-betweens, dry and tolerable, are so few, i fritter them away on mere leisure -- sailing, mostly -- and so the bad plants are out of control all around my house, it's the day of the fricking triffids out there, i tell you.

and today, had to "do some things", which means, of course, buy stuff, and by the time the stuff-buying was done and the stuff that can't survive outside of a refrigerator was stuffed into a refrigerator, all that was left was the heat, the 8-knot winds having slipped away to the east, leaving behind a whisperless, driftless hot heaviness, there'll be no sailing today, only stuffing.

Summer has finally come to Michigan and a ton of water. Great Lake break/tie record high levels. Folks in the lower lake areas by the water are sandbagging and pumping water.

Hope everyone is in fine fiddle and the weather doesn't have you under the weather.

@mhagle  
Thanks for that reminder that, ike each of us here, she’s so fully human, much more than just a writer of commentary on political developments.

Having said that . . .
Top Assange defense account deleted by Twitter

Actually, I don't remember Leonard Cohen, but in 1960 I was 3. Wonderful, though. Listening to Vivaldi now.

A couple of remarks:

Goats. Our last goat, Kozy, was one smart dude. He would call me when he thought had waited long enough for his daily snack (had a whole field for munching). When he saw me coming he would do a dance. Really. Occasionally escaped and would sit on the front steps. Found a door open one time and woke my husband with a kiss.

And the connection between our brains and our bodies. Mentioned this before, but When the Body Says No by Dr. Gabor Mate' (Aaron Mate's father) is excellent on the subject. In depth scientific detail of how it works.

Forgive me for posting this sort of long poem, but I found it moving.

The Huntsman
by Caitlin Johnstone

A huntsman crawled onto my laptop
and the screen crackled into rainbows
and went white.
Jet black shadows slashed across the walls
of shapes I could almost remember.

"Let it all go," said the huntsman.

"I cannot," I replied,
"for the people on Twitter are mean jerks,
and Eckhart Tolle was just on the Rubin Report,
and Bob Dylan made a Christmas album,
and everything is phony and stupid
and the bad guys always win."

"Let it all go," said the huntsman.

"I cannot," I replied,
"for my hand is now shaking,
and I've had this strange pulsing feeling in my tummy,
and I should really see a doctor about that,
and there'll be no one to care for my children if I die,
and my pill bottle is all out of placebos,
and the ribbon on this laptop has run out of ink
and the mountain of pennies in my wishing well
has displaced all of the water."

"Let it all go," said the huntsman.

"I cannot," I replied,
"for then everyone will see what a doofy loser I am,
and there'll be no one to watch my unguarded back,
and people will stick knives where my armor used to be,
and I'll lock myself out of my house because I always forget my keys,
and I'll die of exposure all alone on my own doorstep
and then who will keep the world spinning with their worry?"

The huntsman beckoned me in closer
and touched my forehead.
The shadows gobbled up the walls,
the windows, the ceiling and the floor.

I beheld an impossibly vast presence
underneath the fundamental ground of being.
It had infinite arms and infinite eyes,
infinite mouths and infinite stomachs,
and countless spider faces pointing in all directions.
Its intensity surpassed the fury of every star in the universe.
Its vastness was incomprehensible.

Prismatic jellyfish rose up through my feet
and bubbled out the top of my head,
cleansing my cells of inner deceits.
Impossibly shaped godlings swirled around me,
chanting "Ooh ah ee! Ooh ah ee!
She is learning about real nakedness!"
in a language I'd need an impossible tongue to speak.

The thoughts in my head began bursting like bubble wrap
when you roll it into a bunch and twist it.
My nose, toes and fingers grew long and sprouted leaves,
and my hair became a chlorophyll peacock feather waterfall.
My hips split open and I birthed infinite worlds.

An alien song erupted from my throat
in a voice I haven't used since before I was conceived:

"When the student is ready,
the guru appears.

When the poet is ready,
the poem appears.

When humanity is ready,
paradise appears.

When the questioner is ready,
the questions disappear.

The essence of buddha mind
is getting out of your own way.

Till the soil
for its own sake.

Till the soil
for its own sake.

End the narrative,
even this narrative.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Goodbye."

Suddenly I began to feel that this was all happening in me,
that it had all always been happening in me.
Every movement since the dawn of time
has its origin in my heart of hearts,
arising from stillness,
disappearing back into stillness,
ungrabbed,
unmanipulated,
and unfathomably beloved.

"LET IT ALL GO," spoke the Supreme Godhead.

"I am ready," I replied.
"I am ready."

And then I was back on my couch,
with my graying hair and my fat, sagging flesh,
and my old, gibbering thought patterns
whispering in my mind's ear.

But it was different.

Very, very different.

Wishing everyone a great weekend!

@mhagle

So glad you posted it. I've been struggling with that very issue, looking for a way out. I've transcended gravity wells before.... Anyway Caitlan is very human and authentic, I agree. And she came with a gift. I think we all came with an important piece of the mastercode. By now, we should have evolved out of the grinding dystopia of ignorance and greed. We should be harmonizing around the collective truth we possess. The early stages of enlightenment should have begun already, transforming us. It's rather a shame that we could have built a utopian reality to free humanity many times over from the exhaustng degrading daily battle to just to survive. Instead we choose to follow the demonic path of waste, stagnation, and destruction to pursue the blind power-lust of the psychopaths, whom we invariably select to lead us. I just don't care to notice it anymore.

Actually, I don't remember Leonard Cohen, but in 1960 I was 3. Wonderful, though. Listening to Vivaldi now.

A couple of remarks:

Goats. Our last goat, Kozy, was one smart dude. He would call me when he thought had waited long enough for his daily snack (had a whole field for munching). When he saw me coming he would do a dance. Really. Occasionally escaped and would sit on the front steps. Found a door open one time and woke my husband with a kiss.

And the connection between our brains and our bodies. Mentioned this before, but When the Body Says No by Dr. Gabor Mate' (Aaron Mate's father) is excellent on the subject. In depth scientific detail of how it works.

Forgive me for posting this sort of long poem, but I found it moving.

The Huntsman
by Caitlin Johnstone

A huntsman crawled onto my laptop
and the screen crackled into rainbows
and went white.
Jet black shadows slashed across the walls
of shapes I could almost remember.

"Let it all go," said the huntsman.

"I cannot," I replied,
"for the people on Twitter are mean jerks,
and Eckhart Tolle was just on the Rubin Report,
and Bob Dylan made a Christmas album,
and everything is phony and stupid
and the bad guys always win."

"Let it all go," said the huntsman.

"I cannot," I replied,
"for my hand is now shaking,
and I've had this strange pulsing feeling in my tummy,
and I should really see a doctor about that,
and there'll be no one to care for my children if I die,
and my pill bottle is all out of placebos,
and the ribbon on this laptop has run out of ink
and the mountain of pennies in my wishing well
has displaced all of the water."

"Let it all go," said the huntsman.

"I cannot," I replied,
"for then everyone will see what a doofy loser I am,
and there'll be no one to watch my unguarded back,
and people will stick knives where my armor used to be,
and I'll lock myself out of my house because I always forget my keys,
and I'll die of exposure all alone on my own doorstep
and then who will keep the world spinning with their worry?"

The huntsman beckoned me in closer
and touched my forehead.
The shadows gobbled up the walls,
the windows, the ceiling and the floor.

I beheld an impossibly vast presence
underneath the fundamental ground of being.
It had infinite arms and infinite eyes,
infinite mouths and infinite stomachs,
and countless spider faces pointing in all directions.
Its intensity surpassed the fury of every star in the universe.
Its vastness was incomprehensible.

Prismatic jellyfish rose up through my feet
and bubbled out the top of my head,
cleansing my cells of inner deceits.
Impossibly shaped godlings swirled around me,
chanting "Ooh ah ee! Ooh ah ee!
She is learning about real nakedness!"
in a language I'd need an impossible tongue to speak.

The thoughts in my head began bursting like bubble wrap
when you roll it into a bunch and twist it.
My nose, toes and fingers grew long and sprouted leaves,
and my hair became a chlorophyll peacock feather waterfall.
My hips split open and I birthed infinite worlds.

An alien song erupted from my throat
in a voice I haven't used since before I was conceived:

"When the student is ready,
the guru appears.

When the poet is ready,
the poem appears.

When humanity is ready,
paradise appears.

When the questioner is ready,
the questions disappear.

The essence of buddha mind
is getting out of your own way.

Till the soil
for its own sake.

Till the soil
for its own sake.

End the narrative,
even this narrative.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Goodbye."

Suddenly I began to feel that this was all happening in me,
that it had all always been happening in me.
Every movement since the dawn of time
has its origin in my heart of hearts,
arising from stillness,
disappearing back into stillness,
ungrabbed,
unmanipulated,
and unfathomably beloved.

"LET IT ALL GO," spoke the Supreme Godhead.

"I am ready," I replied.
"I am ready."

And then I was back on my couch,
with my graying hair and my fat, sagging flesh,
and my old, gibbering thought patterns
whispering in my mind's ear.

But it was different.

Very, very different.

Wishing everyone a great weekend!

@magiamma the young ones are joining and yes, they are bright lights. You seem to be doing a great deal of work on this, take care of yourself.
I've started reading a book by Rebecca Solnit called A Paradise Built in Hell: The Extraordinary Communities That Arise In Disaster. She has some interesting insights and ideas about these times we live in, some of which echo what Caitlin Johnstone's poem expressed above. If you have a chance you might find some of what she writes hopeful and affirming.

and everyone. Thanks for the amazing music.

Still working on the climate strategy for the city council. So many people here are getting involved. Young ones now joining. Bright lights they are. Learning how to stay saner - as the crisis escalates, I increase my personal mental remediation and adapt.

The good people here are a gift.

Small it seems like a hummingbird putting out a fire with a drop of water. I see the breaking down. I celebrate the moment. I feel the helplessness. I embrace the courage. I feel the hopelessness. I fill my glass full, with light. I drink to the now, to all life. May we be clear. May we be peaceful. I see no other path.