Twelth Ocean, Atlas, 62nd Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

Thought I'd post another one of those Roger Dean-like seascapes for Twelth Ocean, like I did for the previous 11 ocean days this year, didn't you? I thought so, too, but apparently the Winter Hag thought differently so here we go.

All things according to their season, and today I deliberately didn't take my alternate-day walk. First time since April that I missed with no intention of making up the miles. I haven't quit but there's a time for walks and there's a time for couch surfing and watching college football games, and this is the latter. I'll walk again when they aren't airing games.

For those of you keeping score at home, I'm 3-of-5 so far this year with by football picks, tied with two others for second place in the family bowl pool. At halftime, my pick (Tulane) is trailing but covering the spread so far in the Gasparilla Bowl (update: they got blown out in the second half and we took a loss).    

Day of the White Glare, Helios, 61st of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

Apologies in advance if I seem a little preoccupied for the next few weeks, but I'm live-streaming coverage of the college football bowls and playoffs over at The New England Bulldog. 

The Prince is Aloft, Electra, 60th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

Another ecstatic walk today, but of a very different nature from Monday's endorphin-drenched hike. For one thing, I got a late start today so I walked my local Beltline trail instead of the Cochran Shoals trail near the Chattahoochee River. For another, part of the pleasure of last Monday's walk was listening as I went along to the album Taking Turns by ECM artist Jacob Bro over a pair of headphones. I wore the headphones again today, but listened to music of a completely different nature, the 58-minute live set, Wood Blues, by the forward-thinking jazz ensemble [ahmed].

[ahmed] is named for NYC bassist, oudist, composer, educator and philosopher Ahmed Abdul-Malik, who fused aspects of American, Arabic and East African thought, ethics, meanings and beliefs in open and experimental ways.

Wood Blues opens sounding like a bebop blues-jazz hybrid, with boogie-woogie piano over a walking bass line. The piano sounds increasingly like something Thelonious Monk might have played as it progresses, and after a while the alto sax of Seymour Wright joins in, playing repeated simple, sometimes one-note sequences. The repetition builds in intensity and suspense (how long will this continue, and what will come next?), and amazingly they keep going and going, building up into almost unbearable levels of intensity. At times, the whole structure of repeated riffs finally collapses in on itself into free-jazz chaos, but the band quickly finds a new pattern in that chaos and starts repeating that riff. Over and over. The excitement built up in this live recording is evident by the audience's audible reactions - the crowd, it seems, was going wild, cheering and hooting and hollering.

I probably covered at least three miles listening to Wood Blues today, and totaled 7.4 on the walk.  

[ahmed] will be playing at next year's Big Ears festival, and I can't wait to experience them live. Here's a track from a recent album, although not the one I was listening to today.   

The Fire Is a Mirror, Deneb, 59th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

A 15-year-old girl entered a Christian school in Wisconsin yesterday and killed a teacher and a fellow student and left six other people injured before killing herself

Guns don't protect people, they kill people. If you have a gun in your home, I beg you to get rid of it now.

Rose Over the Cities, Castor, 58th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

Ever since the cold weather arrived earlier this month, I've been taking my alternate-day walks along the nearby Beltline trail. Not only was I trying to avoid the cold winds that blow down the Chattahoochee River on my other trail, but the cool weather kept me indoors longer and the late starts precluded the luxury of driving to the riverside trailhead.

Today was a little warmer though (high in the low 60s), so I headed to the 'Hootch and I'm glad that I did. It was overcast when I arrived, but after a mile or two the clouds parted and blue skies came through. But the big difference since the last time I hiked the trail was that all the leaves had fallen from the trees. This opened up the vistas and allowed be to see further, not only around me but also the trail ahead. I wouldn't say the walks felt claustrophobic before the leaves fell, but it did feel much more open and spacious today. I was aware of more of the trail than just the few yards ahead of me.

I guess the endorphins must have kicked in, because the walk felt more joyful, exciting, and interesting than it had for a long time. The miles seemed to pass by quicker, the hills felt easy, and there was more than a little skip to my step. I totaled 7.3 miles and while I was glad to get back to my car at the trailhead, I felt like I could have taken the walk all over again.      

Humming of the Distances of the Planet, Betelgeuse, 57th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

Zakir Hussain, the legendary tabla virtuoso who defied genres, died today at age 73. Impermanence is swift.

Zakir played on a great many albums, from George Harrison's Living in the Material World (1973) and jazz musician John Handy's Hard Work (1976) to the soundtracks of Apocalypse Now and Bernardo Bertolucci's Little Buddha.   He appeared on Mickey Hart's Planet Drum and was a founding member of Bill Laswell's world-music supergroup Tabla Beat Science and John McLaughlin's Shakti. He was widely considered one of the greatest tabla players of all time.

He was scheduled to play at next year's Big Ears music festival with jazz saxophonist Charles Lloyd and his own Masters of Percussion ensemble. I once noted that so many musicians seemed to die soon after performing at Big Ears - a statistical side effect of a festival featuring so many legendary but elderly musicians - but this is the first time I'm aware of a performer passing on before their scheduled appearance.

Rest in peace, good sir. 

Whistling Smiling Hand of the Hangman, Atlas, 56th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

My cumulative walking distance, an imaginary circle with r = how many miles I've walked this year, reached all the way from Atlanta to Canada nearly three months ago, but only just now has reached Mexican soil. Not the embattled U.S.-Mexico border to be sure, but the northernmost Yucatan peninsula. It figures that my old geological ass would get to Chicxulub before Armageddon.

The radius of that circle now takes in portions of the United States, Canada, Mexico, Cuba, and the Bahamas. Sometime after it reaches the easternmost tip of the U.S.-Mexico border, it will probably take in the Cayman Islands, a British overseas territory, and then Belize, Turks and Caicos, and Bermuda, in that order. And then Jamaica, Guatemala, and Haiti next. 

My miles extended to the Atlantic six months ago, and will reach the Pacific coast of southwest Mexico sometimes after they reach Bermuda (and the southernmost tip of Hudson's Bay in the opposite direction) but before they get to Puerto Rico. I doubt it will be this calendar year, though. 

    

Day of the Magic Child, Helios, 55th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

"Amazon donates $1M to Trump’s inaugural fund as tech cozies up to president-elect," The Guardian's headline exclaims. "OpenAI’s Sam Altman also announced a $1M personal donation to Trump on the same day, joining Meta," they continue.

No, "tech" isn't cozying up to Trump, as The Guardian likes to describes it. Rich, white men are cozying up to Trump. Right now, the riches are being made in tech, but in the past it was petroleum, steel, or automobiles. "Steel" wasn't cozying up to Grover Cleveland, "oil" wasn't contributing to Roosevelt. It was rich, white men and was always rich, white men. Different revenue sources, same donors. It doesn't change.

Stop asking why "tech" is so infatuated and supportive of Trump. When you ask the question right, why are rich, white men donating to Trump, the answer is pretty obvious. 

Day of the Inner Lid, Electra, 54th of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

It was on this day one year ago that my pet cat Izzy passed away in his sleep. One year without the lovable, goofy furball. 

Saturday will mark the three-month anniversary of the passing of my brother, David. It was three months ago today that I learned of his terminal illness. 

Impermanence is swift. Time passes swiftly and our dew-like life is gone in a flash. May I respectfully remind you, life-and-death is the great matter. 

Smoke of the Shore, Deneb, 53rd Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

For months, I took my alternating day walks in the sweltering heat and humidity of the Georgia summer. As the season progressed and the temperatures climbed, I adapted day by day, degree by degree, to the summer heat.

Now it's the cold. I missed my walk yesterday because it rained all day, but I made up for it today. The rainfall had stopped but the temperature was in the low 40s and the wind chill made it feel like the 20s. I wore a hat and two layers of fleece to ward off the cold, but could still feel it blow through my clothes when the wind gusted. 

If I'm going to keep my routine going, and I intend to, I'm going to have to adjust to the chilly temperatures of January and February just like I did for the heat of July and August. Instead of despising the cold, I need to consider it an adventure, something I need to conquer in order to meet my goal. The obstacle is the way.    

Day of the Mind Blizzard, Castor, 52nd of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

"I promise I will stop drinking if you make me Secretary of Defense," has got to be the most alcoholic thing a candidate can possible say.

The Glistening Drivers, Betelgeuse, 51st Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

Dealing with my emotions and feelings in this transition period between Presidents really highlights the advantages Contemplative Stoicism has over Zen Buddhism.

In a nutshell, Stoicism teaches us to ask ourselves if there's anything we can do to change the situation. If the answer's "yes," then do what needs to be done. But seeing as how we can't change the electoral results, nor can we change Donald Trump, if the answer's "no," Stoicism then asks if we can accept the burden and bear the pain, and advises us that we may be tougher than we think. Life is hard, but we can also grow and learn from the hardships. The obstacle is the way.

Buddhism is not all that different. Remember my I Ching reading (which is Taoist not Buddhist, but humor me) said that I may be able to survive the coming term, but then again, I might not. The Buddha's First Noble Truth is the existing of suffering. He would not have been surprised that hard times are coming, and taught that life is marked by sickness, old age, and death.

Neither practice offers a false hope that things will be all sunshine and rosewater. But Stoicism, and in particular Contemplative Stoicism, helps toughen us better for the hard times than does Buddhism, or at least that's how it feels to me.

I've listened to several Zen podcasts and online dharma talks about coping with the results of the election. Most of them offered some commiseration on the suffering, some teachers sounding very empathic and understanding about the frustration and anger their students are feeling, but few offered specific advice on what to actually do about it. I was reminded that the Buddha lived in India in the Fifth Century B.C. under a strict caste system, and never complained about it nor called for its overthrow. He didn't endorse it, but we shouldn't forget that he was of the Warrior caste, and if he had been born in a lower caste, would probably never have had the privilege of being a spiritual leader. On the other hand, Stephen Batchelor claims that the Buddha's actual goal was to build and create an alternate society, that the sangha was his true aim, not the dharma.

I'm not bashing on Buddhism. Contemplative Stoicism, in my formulation, is Stoic philosophy informed by and imbued with Zen Buddhism. Two columns supporting the platform, and both strengthen the other. But when the election results go the way they did in 2024, I tend to lean on the Stoic column for support. When they do the way they did for Obama in 2008 and 2012, I rely on the Zen column to keep me grounded.

Secrets of the Essence Chamber, Atlas, 50th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

Happy Rohatsu, the day of the Buddha's Enlightenment! May all be equally awakened.

Zen Master Dogen once said that to drive ourselves to practice is surely delusion. That's a handy cop-out for those of us who miss a meditation period, who fail to sit through an entire sesshin, who don't even make it out of bed to even get to the zendo in the first place. "Ah, pushing myself to make it there is just delusion anyway," we tell ourselves as we roll over and go back to sleep. 

Which is to say that my practice didn't make it through my self-assigned seven days of Rohatsu. I did sit every day from December 2 through 7 instead of every-other-day as was my routine, and I did gradually lengthen the sitting time from 90 to 225 minutes. But today, Rohatsu itself, which was a regularly scheduled walking day and not a sitting day, didn't see any minutes of sitting. I got up, made my coffee and took my vitals, showered, and then watched Trump's ridiculous interview on NBC, followed by all the pundits picking it apart for an hour afterwards. I took my usual 5.3-mile walk for general health reasons and then went grocery shopping as I need food to sustain my life. When I got back home, I fed the cat, it got dark outside, and I realized "it's not going to happen." I'll sit tomorrow, back on my usual bidiurnal schedule (is that a word? I think it's a word). 

Zen mind is ordinary mind, and forcing myself to sit at the expense of living my actual life could be construed as "driving myself to practice." I'll take the Dogen Delusion Pass®, thank you.

Day of the Banner, Helios, 49th of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

This one's from the Sports Desk, as you'll soon see. The No. 5-ranked Georgia Bulldogs, after beating in-state rival Georgia Tech last weekend in an epic, eight-OT game, won another nail-biter of a game tonight, this time against the No. 2-ranked Texas Longhorns for the SEC championship. Tonight's game also went into overtime, the first SEC title game ever to go into OT, though fortunately for my blood pressure, only for one overtime period but still another classic for the books.

A bit of background: Georgia fans still bitterly remember the 2017 and 2018 seasons, when we lost two crucial games to Alabama. In 2017, we lost to Alabama, 26-23 (OT), in the National Championship game after the Tide switched QB Jalen Hurts for then-unknown Tua Tagovailo. Our next chance to play Alabama and avenge the loss came in the 2018 SEC title game, but then 'Bama switched QBs again, this time putting Hurts back in for Tua. Georgia lost, 35-28, and a dispirited Bulldog team, expecting all season to play for the national title, lost their bowl game to Texas, 28-21, after several seniors opted out of the game. 

But just the concept of replacing QBs mid-game still haunts Georgia, while Texas preened and strutted like they were the better team. That latter thought was dispelled when Georgia beat then No. 3 Texas, 30-15, earlier this season, on Texas' home field in Austin.              

Texas joined the SEC this season, and entered today's SEC title game ranked No. 2 in the nation, ahead of No. 5 Georgia despite their earlier loss to the Dawgs. With Texas leading 6-3, Georgia QB Carson Beck was injured on the final play of the first half after getting hit on the arm on an incomplete pass and had to leave the game. Backup QB Gunner Stockton started the second half as Beck watched from the sidelines. This was a blow to Georgia, as Carson had led the team the past two seasons, but the Bulldogs and their fans rallied to support his replacement. This was our chance to beat a team in a crucial match by replacing QBs mid-game. 

Stockton drove the Bulldogs down the field for the first TD of the game, giving Georgia a 13-6 lead. The Longhorns made a 41-yard TD to tie the game at 13-all early in the fourth and the two teams then traded FGs. The game went into OT tied at 16, our second consecutive OT game, with nightmarish memories of last week's 8-OT slog-fest still on our minds and aching in the players' bones. 

The Bulldogs held Texas to a field goal on the first overtime possession. When the Dawgs got the ball, Stockton ran for the goal line but took a hit that looked like targeting, but was ruled to be clean, that knocked the helmet off his head. By college football rules, Stockton had to sit out one play because of the helmet (more of a penalty on the victim than the perpetrator, IMO) and Beck came on the field, his limp right arm dangling loosely at his side. That's right, the Bulldogs had to replace the replacement QB, and did it with an injured player. But Beck took one snap and handed the ball to running back Trevor Etienne - touchdown, Georgia. The Bulldogs won the game and the SEC Championship, beating an over-ranked Texas team a second time this season and dispelling their replacement-QB anxiety. 

The Bulldogs improve to 11-2 and are now winners of two of the past three SEC Championships, two of the past three National Championships, and 56 of their past 59 games, including a record 31 straight home games. They've won 11 of their last 13 bowl games and during that stretch produced ten consensus All-Americans. Head coach Kirby Smart is three-time SEC Coach of the Year, the fastest coach to make it to 100 wins in NCAA history, and one of only three active head coaches in CFB to have won a national title.

Texas, who squeaked into the SEC title game without having played Alabama, Tennessee, Ole Miss, Missouri, or South Carolina, are 0-2 this season against Georgia and 10-0 against teams that aren't Georgia.

The best news for Georgia is that with the conference title, the Bulldogs get a bye next week in the first round of playoffs and a chance to heal up (in addition to Beck, both our first-string punt kicker and place holder were injured too). We'll have to wait until tomorrow's final Selection Committee rankings to see how the Dawgs are seeded and who they'll likely face in the playoffs.

This is the penultimate day of my Rohatsu practice period and I intended to devote several hours to sitting meditation today. The Bulldog's nearly four-hour game and my additional one hour to decompress afterwards cut deeply into my sitting time, but I still managed to get in 3¾ hours (225 minutes) today.

The Book Lingo, Electra, 48th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

Behind the gates of the wealthy

Food lies rotting from waste.

Outside it's the poor

Who lie frozen to death.

Da Fu, the Eighth-Century Chinese poet, was not only a critic of war but also an astute observer of social injustice.

The Mad Albino, Deneb, 47th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

It's the fourth day of my personal Rohatsu sesshin. So far, I've been sticking with it.

My usual practice, at least since early August, is to sit every other day. My usual practice, since early September, is for those sits to be 90 minutes long.  So my meditation time across a typical week would be 90 minutes, then 0 minutes, and then 90, 0, 90, 0, and 90. 

My Rohatsu vow was to sit every day, and gradually increase the time as I went along. So, since Atlas, Day of the Waste Arena, 44th of Hagwinter (Monday, December 2 to you), I've sat for 90 minutes (on a day that's normally 0), 135 minutes, 90 again, and today, 165 minutes. Tomorrow, I'll see if I can't increase the time of those in-between, 90-minute days.

Hopefully, all this will lead up to some sort of mini-marathon on Bodhi Day, Rohatsu itself, Sunday, December 8 (or, Secrets of the Essence Chamber in the Universal Solar Calendar).

Wish me luck.   

The Hundred Lights, Castor, 46th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

I am a citizen of a country that does not yet exist. That's who I see you all as being, especially you younger folks but not confined to you younger folks. We are citizens of a country that we still have to create. A just country, a compassionate country, a forgiving country, a multiracial, multi-religious country, a joyful country that cares about its children and about its elders. That cares about itself and about the world. That cares about what the Earth needs as well as what individual people need. I am, you are, a citizen of a country that does not yet exist, and that badly needs to exist. 

-Vincent Harding (as inspired by Langston Hughes), July 2012

High Paralysis, Betelgeuse, 45th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

A Scene in Spring, by Du Fu (712–770)

The nation is shattered, only mountains and rivers remain.
Weeds and wood grow rampant in the city.
Do the flowers sense that they should weep like me?
The birds seem so fearful. Do they feel the emptiness?

For three months on end, the flames of war have lit the night.
A letter from home would be worth a pound of gold to me,
An old man waiting, whose remaining white hairs
Will soon be too sparse to even hold a pin.

Du Fu may have lived over 1,200 years ago, but he may be the poet for our times. 

Day of the Waste Arena, Atlas, 44th of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

Secrets of the Essence Chamber, the 41st Day of Hagwinter, or as you probably call it, December 8, is Rohatsu, the day that Shakyamuni Buddha is said to have attained enlightenment. Rohatsu is usually preceded by a particularly intense practice period and it is said that monks around the world tremble in anticipation of Rohatsu.

I'm neither a monk nor a Zen Buddhist, but I decided to deepen my meditation practice this week in anticipation of Rohatsu. Since August 3 (Day of the Heart's Blood), my custom has been to sit every other day, the days between my every-other-day walking hikes, and since September 4 (Escape Dream Through) each sitting has been for 90 minutes. I sat for 90 minutes yesterday.

I sat for 90 minutes again today, even though it was a "walk" day. I did get my steps in today (5.4 miles, although I still think my iPhone is short-changing me), but I also sat, too. And in commemoration of the upcoming Rohatsu, instead of sitting for three 30-minute periods, I sat for two 45-minute periods. A little more strenuous, a little more intense.

I plan to repeat those two 45-minute sittings at some point tomorrow, as well as also sit for my regular three 40-minute periods.  Not all at once, but one in the late morning/early afternoon and the other in the late afternoon/early evening. My intention is to continue this daily practice - one 90-minute meditation alternating with two 90-minute sessions - for the week leading up to Rohatsu. I intend to do a little bit more on each alternating day - an extra period here, a longer period there - and see where I wind up on December 8. 

It feels awkward to talk aloud about my meditation practice. Please don't construe these words as bragging or boasting - I'm writing about this here as encouragement to myself and to help bolster my resolve to see this commitment to practice through.      

The Living Help, Helios, 43rd Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

People tell me I need to prepare for the coming times and adjust to the new normal. Things are what they are, and the sooner I accept it the better off I'll be.

We're all counseled to live a well-adjusted life and avoid the neurotic and schizophrenic tendencies that may result from maladjustment, but I categorically reject that advice. I've never found comfort in normalcy, and I don't want to adjust to what I'm being told to accept. On this issue, I side with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Speaking at Southern Methodist University on March 17, 1966, King said, "I must honestly say there are some things in our nation and the world to which I am proud to be maladjusted, and wish all men of goodwill would be maladjusted until the good society is realized."

"I never intend to adjust myself to segregation and discrimination. I never intend to become adjusted to a religious bigotry. I never intend to adjust myself to economic conditions that will take necessities from the many to give luxuries to the few, leaving millions of people smothering in an air-tight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society. I never intend to adjust myself to the madness of militarism and the self-defeating effects of physical violence."

Where these issues are concerned, we need maladjusted men and women. In his speech, King called for the formation of an International Association for the Advancement of Creative Maladjustment. He wanted men and women like the maladjusted prophet Amos, who in the midst of the injustices of his day, cried for justice to roll down like water, and righteousness like a mighty stream. Maladjusted like Lincoln, who had the vision to see that this nation could not survive half slave and half free. 

"As maladjusted as that great Virginian Thomas Jefferson," King said, "who in the midst of an age amazingly adjusted to slavery, could scratch words across the pages of history, words lifted to cosmic proportions: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal and that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights and that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.' 

"As maladjusted as Jesus Christ, who could say to the men and women around the Galilean hills, 'Love your enemies. Bless them that curse you. Pray for them that despitefully use you.'

Through such maladjustment, may we be able to emerge from this bleak and desolate midnight of man’s inhumanity to man and into the bright and glittering daybreak of freedom and justice. May we all be appropriately maladjusted.

Winter Drum, Electra, 42nd Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

The United States is in for some rough times - it's a hard and rocky road ahead and the nation may not survive. C'est la vie. 

I'm 70 years old and, statistically, probably won't live long enough to see the end of this chapter about to unfold in front of us. But that's okay, because I've seen this show before.

I've lived through hard times - I grew up in the generation that did duck-and-cover air-raid drills in school in anticipation of nuclear war. People tend to look back at the 60s and 70s with dewy eyes and remember it all as flower children and peace signs, as white picket fences and Beatlemania, but the times were actually marked by waves of political assassinations (JFK, RFK, MLK, and many more), race riots, spiraling inflation, OPEC and the energy crisis, Nixon, Watergate, Kent State, paranoia, fear, and loathing. The war atrocities of the times weren't being committed by other countries (like today with Russia in Ukraine and Israel in Gaza) but by us in Vietnam, Laos, and elsewhere. Fear of communism was a constant presence, the USSR was bent on global domination, and death by global thermonuclear annihilation was not considered an unlikely ending to it all.

The 60s and 70s were some dark fucking times. But in the 80s, things seemed to improve a little (no thanks to Reagan, but Republicans still gave him credit) and by '89 the Berlin Wall came down, America ascended to the throne of international superiority, the lone global superpower, and the nation thrived in the Clinton economy (yeah, I'm giving him the credit for that). We rode that wave for a very impressive three decades. 

But we're heading back to those hard times again, to that 60s/70s state of an America in decline, Russian assets infiltrating our intelligence networks, spiraling energy costs, violence in the streets, and a paramilitary presence in our cities. Fear and Loathing, Part II. I don't welcome it and I probably won't survive it because of age and all, but I want to say that you, dear reader, you could probably survive because we've done this all before. We've already been here. We've already seen this shitty, pornographic movie they're about to screen for us again.

Buckle up, sit back, and wait 25 or 30 years and things will likely get better again. You'll see. Impermanence is swift.

Day of the Still Boulder, Deneb, 41st Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

The nation is shattered,

Mountains and rivers remain.

There is no fault in the present.

In Tang Dynasty China in the year 755 C.E., a rebellion broke out against the emperor. Eventually, armies marched across China, and society broke down into cycles of war, famine, pestilence and sickness. Reportedly two out of every three people in China died during this period (755-763 C.E.).

During this period, a poet, Du Fu, escaped to the city of Chang'an. He was exhausted, physically diminished, and unable to leave the city, but he wrote a nine-line poem, the first two lines of which were, "The nation is shattered, Mountains and rivers remain."

Roshi Joan Halifax of New Mexico's Upaya Zen Center invoked these lines in a talk shortly after  the U.S. 2024 presidential election. She also recalled Zen Master Keizan's later statement, "Do not find fault in the present." The present is just as it is. The present is what we're able to bear witness to, and living beyond delusion means to not separate the truth of what is from our frames of reference or our mental conceptions (samskara).   

Putting these lines and statements together, we can arrive at a poem to help guide us through the difficult years the apparently lie ahead.

The nation is shattered,

Mountains and rivers remain.

There is no fault in the present. 

The Overday, Castor, 40th of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all. Today, the Big Ears organization released the list of artists scheduled to perform on the first day of the 2025 festival (Bridge of Dread, Castor, 14th Day of Vernal, or Thursday, March 27 to you). 

In my experience of five years attending this festival (2025 will be my sixth time), you can comfortably take in only about four sets on the opening night, which typically starts around 6:00 pm, and five if you really hustle and don't mind arriving a few minutes late. But this year, the promoters have announced 26 sets for opening night alone, and many, if not most, are must-see artists:

Beth Gibbons (Portishead)
Marissa Nadler
Yo La Tengo 
Tortoise
Alan Sparhawk (Low)
Charles Lloyd Sangam Trio
ganavya
DARKSIDE (featuring Nicolas Jaar)
Nanocluster (Immersion/Suss)
William Tyler
Steve Roach
Rich Ruth
Tigran Hamasyan
Barry Altchul's Axiom 5
Ambrose Akinmusire
Bela Fleck
Phil Cook
Joy Guidry
Carlos Nino & Friends
Sunny War
Astrid Sonne
Kate Soper
Shelley Hirsch
Username Password (Wayne White)
Dedicated Men of Zion
RB Morris & William Wright

I feel sorriest for the single-day passholders - you buy a ticket for 26 artists, but you'll only get to see four of them. Of course, there's going to be scheduling conflicts for all of us and a lot of tough decisions to be made. 

If I had my pick of four of the above artists to see and there were no scheduling conflicts (or if I could figure out how to somehow be two places at once at the same time), I would pick Yo La Tengo, Tortoise, DARKSIDE, and Nanocluster, with Charles Lloyd, Beth Gibbons, ganavya, and William Tyler as my backup, "safety" list. Of course, if fate has me winding up seeing Alan Sparhawk, Steve Roach, Rich Ruth, and Joy Guidry, I couldn't complain - it would still be a great night of music. The only artists for whom I have little interest are the last five or so on the list, but that's just me.

Because YOU are important to me, I made a Spotify Playlist of the Thursday night performers. I culled their most recent or most representative releases down to 100 songs, or roughly about four per artist. Here you go, and enjoy!    

Anyway and again, happy Thanksgiving! May all beings be equally nourished.

Tempest Birth, Betelgeuse, 39th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

Tomorrow's Thanksgiving. Not a big deal for me, but I know that many of you are traveling, seeing family, preparing for a big meal. I understand that some might be concerned about family relations during the inevitable political discussions or when the conversation turns to other sensitive topics (marriage, children, career, etc.).

We here at WDW are here to help. If you're called upon to say the traditional prayer before the meal, might I offer a Buddhist meal verse? You could say something along the lines of:

Innumerable efforts have brought us this food,

We should consider how it comes to us.

We should reflect on our virtue and practice,

And whether we are worthy of this offering.

We regard greed as the obstacle to freedom of mind.

We regard this meal as medicine to sustain our life.

For the sake of enlightenment we now receive this food.

The first portion is to end all evil.

The second is to cultivate every good.

The third is to free all beings.

May all beings be equally nourished. 

 

        

  

 

   

Approaches, Atlas, 38th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

In the 1960s, the democratically elected President of Brazil was overthrown by a military dictatorship. I've been thinking a lot recently about how other people lived and survived under autocratic regimes, and have found the music of the Brazilian tropicalia protest movement particularly inspirational.

Musician Caetano Veloso was one of the leading figures of the tropicalia movement and for his efforts was exiled in lieu of prison by the Brazilian military. However, while in Brazil in January 1971 on a temporary basis to see his parents' 40th anniversary, he was interrogated by the military and asked to compose a song complimenting the Transamazônica highway. Caetano didn't accept the offer, but, back in exile, he recorded an LP in London titled Transa. The hilarious part is that transa, while taken from the highway's name, is Portuguese for "fuck." 

The album, sung in both English and Portuguese, is a masterpiece and one of the best albums not only of the tropicalia movement, but of the early 70s, period. Caetano wasn't a happy man at the time and was not only disappointed with his government but also felt alienated and lonely in London.  But he channeled his pain and loneliness into songs like You Don't Know Me and It's a Long Way, and produced great art out of his discontentment.

The stellar Red Hot organization, the folks behind several all-star compilation albums for various worthwhile charities, has recently released a new 46-song compilation for and by the transgender and LGBTQ music community titled TRANSA, after the Veloso album. I don't know whether or not all of the musicians on the album are themselves trans or queer, or just sympathetic and supportive, and I'm not going to speculate on which are in which group.

I finally listened to all three-and-a half hours of the compilation. Frankly, I was disappointed. NPR music critic Ann Powers warned that it was an overall downbeat effort and she was not incorrect. The album is not without its highlights, but most of it consists of slow, somber, and spare songs performed sincerely but not necessarily enthusiastically. But let's not look at the half-empty portion of the glass (or the 7/8ths empty part) and instead focus on the tracks I like. 

The second track on the album is an ethereal and transcendent cover of Veloso's You Don't Know Me performed by Devendra Banhart, Blake Mills, and Beverly Glenn-Copeland, which reinterprets the original's sense of alienation by Brazilian exile adrift in London to the perspective of a nonbinary person in these modern times. After that, though, other than the compilation's title, there are no other links with Caetano's 1972 recording.   

Probably the highlight of the album is a 26-minute instrumental near the middle of the album by Andre 3000 titled, as his recent style, Something Is Happening and I May Not Fully Understand But I'm Happy to Stand for the Understanding. I Say 'instrumental," but toward the end of the track there are some vocalizations, but Andre's not singing in English or any identifiable language. It's somewhere between scat and speaking in tongues, but whatever it is, it sounds very cool. 

Just a few tracks after Andre 3000, producer Arthur Baker offers a remix of the late Pharaoh Sanders called Love Hymn. It's hard to go wrong with Pharaoh, and even if the mix is overproduced with too many layers at times, Pharaoh's sound still shines through. 

An hour or so later, we hear a highly improbably cover of Charles Lloyd's TM by Fleet Foxes, Cole Pulice, and Lynn Avery. TM was a paean to transcendental meditation by Lloyd and the Beach Boys from Lloyd's 1972 album, Waves, and on many levels, I consider it one of the best Beach Boys songs ever (and yes, of course I've heard Good Vibrations). I'll admit the lyrics are pure cringe ("T.M., T.M, in the a.m., and the p.m.") but the rhythms and harmonies so closely match the feel of sitting on a surfboard waiting for a wave as the ocean rises and sets that it's ideal Beach Boys material. I have no idea if this song was selected for TRANSA out of confusion what the "trans" meant, of if it was meant as a comic response to "You want a song about trans? How about one on transcendental meditation?"

The other 42 tracks may grow on me with time, but overall the effort seems like a colossal waste of talent. I mean how could you go wrong with a compilation that includes, over and above those already mentioned, Dirty Projectors, Perfume Genius, Jeff Tweedy,  Alan Sparhawk, Bill Callahan, Sharon Van Etten, Adrianne Lenker, Julien Baker, Faye Webster, Frankie Cosmos, Caroline Rose, Hand Habits, Grouper,  Laraaji, Mary Lattimore, Julianna Barwick, Claire Rousay, Ana Roxanne, AV María, Time Wharp, Joy Guidry, Julie Byrne, L'Rain, Jlin, Moor Mother, More Eaze, Helado Negro, Ezra Furman, Allison Russell, Cassandra Jenkins, Yaya Bey, Sam Smith,  Bartees Strange, Laura Jane Grace, Lee Ranaldo, Jayne County, and Wendy & Lisa of the Revolution? 

Black Clotted Corridor, Helios, 37th Day of Hagwinter, 524, M.E.

 

Dental Hygienist: Did you hear they're dropping all the charges against Trump? 
Me (with mouthful of picks and probes): Mffngrthith blrrght . . . 
D.H.: What?

Later that session, 
D.H.: Is the CDC funded by the government?
Me: Shlrkll ploringen kllr . . .
D.H. Huh?

She leans in close to my ear and whispers,
D.H.: I didn't vote for him! Spit.
Me: Hawk tuah! Neither did I. 

Wild Sun, Electra, 36th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

On observing the rippling of the space-time continuum: the other day, I remarked on my perception of the changing pace of time. Today, I recorded changes in the spatial distance between fixed points.

Four days ago, Nov. 20, on my every-other-day walk, I took my usual route along the northwest Beltline trail, around the Bobby Jones Golf Course, and along the Memorial Park loop. On paper, it's a six-mile walk, maybe 6¼. 

According to the health app on my iPhone 16, though, I walked 7.3 miles that day. But hey, maybe the trail signs and mileage markers underestimate the actual distance, and the route is 1.1 to 1.3 miles longer than the reported 6 miles.

But two days ago, Nov. 22, I took the exact same walk again and clocked only 5.5 miles om the health app. Maybe the mileage markers are actually overreporting the distance? But still, why was Friday's walk 1.8 miles shorter than the Wednesday's, when I took the exact same path?

Today, Nov. 24, I took that walk a third time and this time got 7.5 miles on the health app.    

The conclusion is obvious - the universe is apparently contracting and expanding, breathing as it were, so that the distance between my start and finish points changes by 15 to 25% between walks. One could argue that the health app on the iPhone 16 is an imprecise piece of garbage, shit software packed onto an overcrowded and overpriced gadget, but that would question the integrity of Apple, and we can't have than now, can we? 

No, we can't, so I'll stand by my conclusion that space and time are both impermanent and transient illusions subject to change.

Day of the Axe, Deneb, 35th of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

Last night, I finished reading Richard Powers' Playground.

I'm a fan of Powers. Prior to completing Playground, I've read Orfeo, The Overstory, and Bewilderment, his three previous novels. I had high hopes for Playground but have to admit I was disappointed. It never seemed to settle on a theme, and the story meandered as if it were written in serial format, making it up as it went along.   

Perhaps I was misled by the prepublication publicity. The novel was promoted as being to the oceans what Overstory was to trees. And while the ocean was frequently discussed, the book was almost equally about strategy games like chess and go, AI, and Chicago. You can almost sense Powers' interest wandering as the book proceeds. It feels like he started wanting to write a grand epic about the wonders and majesty of the ocean, got distracted by Polynesian life, started some deep thoughts about games and the people that play them, and later the rise of the computer age leading to the advent of AI. And then at times, it was like, "Oh, yeah, this is my ocean book," and back beneath the sea we went.

Near the end, he has one character write a book about the ocean, and he uses the opportunity describing that fictional book to do a data dump on all the research he must have accumulated on the oceans in the course of writing Playground. 

Perhaps my experience suffered from high expectations. Had this been the first novel I read by some previously unknown-to-me author, I might have enjoyed it more.    

The Boy Patriarch, Castor, 34th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

Damn, it's cold!

Readers in northern climes may laugh at my reaction, but temperatures here in Atlanta fell to 38° and with the wind, it felt like 35. Yes, that's still technically above freezing - water remains in liquid form - and for those of you far north, it's still above 0° F. But the 30s are cold for Georgia. especially for November, and the change from earlier this week was noticeable.

Last summer, the challenge to my walking hike routine was the heat and humidity and the dangers of heat stroke. Now the challenge is the nippy cold and fear of hypothermia. Heat and humidity might be uncomfortable, but cold is downright painful.

Anyway, it's Friday by your calendar, which means new music dropped today. I listened to some excellent new recordings and one that despite its undeniably good intentions didn't quite do it for me.

First, today marked the release of two extended tracks, Freakadelic and Late Autumn, by Jeff Parker's ETA IVtet. The two tracks combined run for nearly 40 minutes, and as you might guess, Freakadelic is the funkier track with a great driving bass line throbbing through most of the cut, while Late Autumn is more introspective and downtempo. Both tracks are outstanding and fascinating, and take the listener on quite the journey. Parker is best known as the long-time guitarist of the post-rock band Tortoise, but he also leads other bands in the jazz, post-rock and experimental arenas.  From 2016 until it closed in 2023, Parker held a weekly residency at the Los Angeles club ETA (for Enfield Tennis Academy from David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest). Parker dubbed the band that emerged from those sessions the ETA IVtet, which also includes the avant saxophonist Josh Johnson, drummer Jay Bellerose, and bassist Anna Butterss (the driving force on Freakadelic). Some of the sessions were released in 2022 as Mondays at Enfield Tennis Academy, and The Way Out of Easy is scheduled to drop on December 12. Freakadelic and Late Autumn are half of that forthcoming album, and suggest a potential AOTY. I can't recommend these two tracks enough.

Jamie Saft is a jazz pianist best known for his work with John Zorn (e.g., Astaroth: Book of Angels Vol. 1 - Jamie Saft Trio Plays Masada Book Two). On today's The Jamie Saft Trio Plays Monk, Saft covers the compositions of jazz legend Thelonious Monk accompanied by Bradley Christopher Jones on bass and the great Hamid Drake on drums. It's a great jazz recording of the compositions played straight up as Saft lets the music of Monk speak on its own terms instead of overwhelming the compositions with his own ideas and inventions. A good straight-ahead jazz album of standards respectfully played by a master, but without the stuffy archive treatment of stiff traditionalists.

Roge's Curyman II, like his previous masterpiece, Curyman, sounds like late 70s tropicalia, and that's meant as the highest compliment possible. Not many musicians, even the surviving members of the Brazilian movement, play that kind of samba anymore, and Roge puts just enough of a 21st Century spin on it to keep it fresh. But aside from the outstanding production, you'd be excused for thinking you were listening to some deep cuts of Gilberto Gil or Caetano Veloso that you'd somehow missed.

The album rpm consists of tracks featuring the compositions of the late avant-garde composer Philip Jeck. Some of the tracks are performed by Jeck, some are collaborations with other artists, and some are performed by other musicians. Jeck composed and performed using antique turntables and old vinyl albums, but before you assume the music's some kind of amalgam of old-timey samples and nostalgia, I'll tell you the source materials are unrecognizable and what emerges is a startling, often piercing sound closer to Alvin Lucier than Tin Pan Alley. It's hard to explain and even harder to describe, but the best clue is that the other musicians on the album include Fennesz, Gavin Bryars, David Sylvain, Hildur Guðnadóttir, and Jah Wobble. A kind of ambient soundtrack for extreme emotional states.

Finally, A Peace of Us by Dean & Britta is Dean Wareham and Britta Phillips (Luna, Galaxie 500) performing Christmas songs. It's a just-slightly-left-of-center take on holiday music, including John and Yoko's Happy Xmas (War Is Over). Look, I'll be honest with you: I generally don't like holiday music and this album does little to convince me to change my attitude. If I'm entertaining this season and I don't want to play Mariah Carey or Bing Crosby, this record would do in a pinch, but even then I'd rather spin John Zorn's A Dreamer's Christmas, which takes traditional holiday tunes and treats them as source material for jazz improvisations, while keeping a respectfully cheery attitude.       

I still haven't yet unpacked the massive, eight-disc TRANSA (speaking of Caetano Veloso) produced by the Red Hot Organization, but I'm very much looking forward to it. It includes tracks by many of my recent favorite indie and electronic performers (Helado Negro, Laraaji, Moor Mother, Mary Lattimore, Julianna Barwick, Sharon van Etten, Julien Baker, claire rousey, Ana Roxanne, Faye Webster, Frankie Cosmos, Grouper, and Joy Guidry), and there's still a 26-minute Andre 3000 cut and an 11-minute piece featuring the late Pharaoh Sanders. Can't wait to give it a listen, but I want to make sure it's at a time when I can give it my full attention.

The Rusted Machines, Betelgeuse, 33rd Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

This will be a political post, even though I've been trying to avoid politics for mental health reasons and even though you probably already know everything I'm going to say.

The International Criminal Court today issued an arrest warrant for war criminal Benjamin Netanyahu of Israel for atrocities committed in Gaza against Palestinians. The ICC also issued a warrant for Hamas military leader Mohammed Deif, although Israel claims he's already been killed. 

Disgraced congressman Matt Gaetz withdrew from consideration as the new Attorney General in the next administration, claiming he didn't want to be a "distraction." I'm sure he already secured a guarantee for a future presidential pardon before he resigned. Trump will replace his nominee with Florida AG Pam Bondi, who strangely is not a television personality, which seems to be a prerequisite for the Trump cabinet. 

During the campaign, Trump tried to distance himself from the reviled and toxic Project 2025, claiming he had nothing to do with it and hadn't even read it (the latter part of that I could agree with). Well, sources close to the Trump transition team now say that they expect Trump to name Russell Vought, one of the key architects of Project 2025,to lead the Office of Management and Budget (OMB).  Vought wrote the section of the plan that calls for “aggressive use of the vast powers of the executive branch” to “bend or break the bureaucracy to the presidential will” and identified the OMB as the means of enforcing the president’s agenda. So the plan seems to be in progress despite Trump's feigned ignorance.

Harsh Blankness of the Noonday, Atlas, 32nd Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

After yesterday's rainy day, today was bright and delightful, if a little bit gusty. I got my steps in, 14,999 of them so far today, or 7.2 miles, and I also sat my 90 minutes of zazen. 

Tomorrow is supposed to be quite cold, at least for here in Georgia.  Overnight low of 39°, warming up to only 53° in the afternoon. Friday's forecast to be even colder.

I'm gonna try to get my regularly scheduled walk in tomorrow to get back on my normal schedule; as motivation, it will be even worse to try the day after. There were days last summer, which feel like just yesterday, where I had to push myself to go outside and walk when it was 95° and 95% humidity - oh what I would have given for a chilly autumn day back then!

Zen Master Tozan told a monk to go to a place that is neither hot nor cold. “When it's hot, become one with the heat; when it's cold, become one with the cold. That is the place of no heat or cold.”

Imma gonna keep an eye out for that place tomorrow.

The Night Crescent, Helios, 31st Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

Rainy day. Light rain when I woke up, heavier midday, on and off in the afternoon and into the evening.

You can argue that everyday for this Retired Old Man is a lazy day, and you'd probably be right. But I usually have at least one little chore that I've set myself, and my alternating schedule of walking hikes and sitting meditation takes anywhere from 1½ to 4 hours. So I'm not exactly busy, but I'm not totally idle either.

But today, I decided to do nothing. Jack shit, nothing. All summer, I found brief interludes in the rain when I could get my steps in, but today I didn't even try. Probably wouldn't have worked anyway. I could have switched up my alternating routine and sat zazen today even though I did just yesterday and then walk tomorrow, but that didn't happen. I vegged out, made my morning coffee ritual an approximately four-hour affair, played hours and hours of video games while listening to music, and then fell into the evening. 

Nothing wrong with a day of slack. The forecast shows the rain going away by noon tomorrow, and I'll get back to walking then. 

Day of Slack Rains, Electra, 30th of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

I don't experience time the way you probably do.

Many people take that to mean something about the relativity of time as one gets older. To me, a year represents only 1/70th of my life, while to, say, my grandson-in-law, it represents 1/5th. A year is an eternity to him; it's but a blink of the eye to me.

But that's not what I'm talking about. Most people believe that time moves at a steady rate - we advance into the future at a constant clip of one second per second, and it's always that way. Scientific observations and theory depend on this common-sense assumption.  Most people would agree that sometimes time feels like it's moving slower or faster - slower if you're anticipating something, faster if you're enjoying something and not paying attention to the clock. But those, it's argued, are just psychological perceptions of time. It's still moving along a steady 1 sec/sec regardless of whether we feel like it's going fast or slow.

I believe time really does go slower when it's experienced that way, and faster when that seems to be the case. While most people feel as if they're floating down a metaphorical river of time -  carried by the constant, ever-present, and inescapable currents of time - I feel that time is just in our mind and is being carried along by us. We are not traveling through time; time is quite literally controlled by our perception of it.  

It's one thing to accept that statement as a philosophical precept and another to actually experience it, just like it's one thing to believe in an afterlife but another to live eternally. But that's where the practice of meditation comes in.

My practice recently has been to sit for 90 minutes every other day (I take my walking hikes on the days in between). While I sit, time sometimes goes very, even excruciatingly, slow. When, oh when, is that timer finally going to ring? It seems like it's been forever.

But when the 90 minutes finally is over, it's as if no time had passed at all. Nothing happened during those 90 minutes - I didn't do anything and the world didn't present itself to me in any narrative form. Just sitting there, one can't compose a "and then that next thing happened" story. I sit down, nothing happens, and then the bell rings, I get up, and the world (and time) resumes. 1:30 pm becomes 3:00 just as suddenly as if I merely turned the clock forward. 

Time was simultaneously moving very, very slow, and also flash-forwarding by an hour and a half. Two conflicting impressions present themselves to me at the same time. The only way to reconcile the paradox is to accept that time isn't linear, it's what you perceive it to be. 

Several years ago, I was stageside at the Doug Fir Lounge in Portland, Oregon, waiting for Spencer Krug's band, Moonface, to perform. Near me, an intense-looking young man with wild hair was furiously scribbling some sort of notes into a pad. It appeared like he was having such intense insights and revelations, he could barely keep up with himself and was frantically trying to record as much as he could. He might have been having a breakdown or psychotic episode for all I knew, or he might have been in the throes of sudden enlightenment. 

I decided to mess with him and tell him something "profound" to see how'd he'd react. Not coming up with anything deeper to say, I told him, "We aren't in time, time is in us."

It worked and he took the bait. "Holy shit, you're right," he said, and began scribbling some more in his notepad. While this was happening, Krug himself was on stage but a few feet away putting the finishing touches on his equipment setup before his show. He noticed the intense young man's reaction, and asked him what I had just told him.

"We aren't in time, time is in us," the young man told Krug.

And I'll never forget the words that Krug said in response to this. Spenser Krug, singer, songwriter, guitarist, and frontman of the band Moonface (and member of other bands as well), looked at me and said one simple word:

"Whatever."

Day of the Cliff, Deneb, 29th of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

The always astute and informative historian Heather Cox Richardson points out that the current political opposition to the federal Department of Education has its roots not in the actions of the department itself but in Supreme Court decisions declaring segregation unconstitutional and banning prayer in public schools.

As a reminder, the Department of Education does not set school curricula - that's done at the state and local level. "Return it to the States," Trump says, but the "it" in question is already done at the STate level. The Department of Ed provides federal funding for high-poverty public schools and for students with disabilities, and oversees the federal student-loan program. It also collects data on student performance and promotes practices based on the statistical evidence. 

Congress established the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare in 1953 under Republican president Dwight D. Eisenhower to improve Americans’ overall well-being in the post–World War II period. Congress later split the office into two departments, the Dept. of Health and Human Services and the Dept. of Education, in May 1980 under Democratic president Jimmy Carter.

What upsets the radical right, though, is that the Department of Education is also in charge of prohibiting discrimination on the basis of race and sex in schools that get federal funding, a policy Congress set in 1975. Between that policy, the May 1954 Brown v. Board of Education decision, and court decisions in 1962 and 1963 declaring prayer in schools unconstitutional, white evangelicals have became convinced that public schools are a menace. 

Ronald Reagan ran on a promise to eliminate the Department of Education. He failed, and Trump later put right-wing evangelical Betsy DeVos in charge of Education. Like Reagan before her, DeVos also called for eliminating the department and asked for massive cuts in education spending. Instead of funding, she promoted the idea of "vouchers" to reimburse parents for sending their children to private schools.

After Trump lost the 2020 election, Moms for Liberty began demanding that LGBTQ-themed books be banned from school libraries, and right-wing activists promoted the false idea that public-school teachers were indoctrinating their students with critical race theory, a theory taught as an elective in law school to explain why desegregation laws had not ended racial discrimination. Nevertheless, legislators considered laws to ban the teaching of CRT or to limit how teachers can talk about racism and sexism, saying that existing curricula caused white children to feel guilty.

During the 2024 presidential campaign, Trump focused on the idea that transgender students were playing high-school sports despite the already existing restrictions on that practice, and insisted that public schools were performing gender-transition surgery on students. As ludicrous as the idea is, former Fox News host Megyn Kelly insisted on HBO's Real Time that "we are chopping off the healthy body parts of young children —100 percent we are doing that." When audience members reacted with boos and hisses, host Bill Maher stated, "We are definitely doing that. That's what it is. I don't know what the ooing is about."

We're not doing that. Trump's campaign speeches talked about disappointed parents who sent their kids off to school only to have them return at the end of the day with a different gender. That's not happening. Anywhere. No matter how insistent Kelly and Maher and Trump are about it. 

So there I go again - another political rant despite my insistence to not. There's nothing I can do to change the incoming administration's attitude toward the Department of Education and to be honest, it doesn't affect me directly - I'm not in school and I don't have children in school. My only stake in this debate lies in the Jeffersonian ideal that education is fundamental to the functioning of a free and fair democracy, that only educated people can accurately evaluate the governmental policies that will truly benefit them. For instance, Richardson points out that Republican-dominated states receive significantly more federal money for education than Democratic-dominated states do, although the Democratic states contribute significantly more tax dollars.  

There's nothing I can do to change the incoming administration's attitude toward Education, but I can manage my own reactions better by calmly discussing it here.

The Mindless Eternal, Castor, 28th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

Things come around again in response to those who didn't learn from history and are now doomed to repeat it. 

Pictures from eight years ago today. Can't believe we have to do this all over again.