Their Shadows of Hearsay

 

Tracking my walking mileage, I've come to realize that Atlanta, Georgia is closer to Canada than to Mexico. By a considerable margin.

Also, my cumulative walking mileage this year, having reached Lake Erie the other day, now extends all the way to Lake Michigan. Near the Illinois/Indiana border on the lake shore, southwest of Chicago and northwest of Gary.   

In another direction, it's reached the northeast tip of Texas, just a little past Texarkana. The circle (r = 568 miles) runs along the Sabine River between Texas and Louisiana.  

Fun with geography!

Rapt Fear Belief

 

I initially mistook "rapt" for "wrapped," resulting in the picture above, lol.

My cumulative walking/hiking mileage has not only reached the Great Lakes, it's actually left the U.S. and has now entered Canada. Not the mainland to be sure, but Middle Island, a tiny speck in Lake Erie that's the southernmost point in Canada.

Still processing my little brother's demise. I'll probably never fully come to terms with it.

R.I.P.

David Hart, 60, of Kingfield, Maine passed away peacefully on Saturday, September 14th, 2024 at Franklin Memorial Hospital, surrounded by his closest loved ones.

David was born August 11th, 1964 in Port Jefferson, New York, the son of Joanne L. Hart, née Burns and M. William ‘Bill’ Hart.

David spent his early childhood on the beaches of Long Island, NY amongst his three loving siblings. After a family move to Massachusetts, he attended Winchester High School and participated in four years of baseball, football, and wrestling before graduating in 1982. Known for his outward compassion and love for having a good time, he was adored by many. Hard-working and a naturally skilled coordinator, he worked summers among a team of painting contractors years his superior, becoming a foreman at just 18 years old.

He went on to attend Boston University where he studied hydrogeology. During college he enjoyed summers out on Gloucester’s “Rocky Neck,” living his best life among many friends: striper fishing, lobstering, and cruising the open road on his beloved motorcycle.

Eager for a challenge and an adventure, David spent the following years as owner & operator of his own successful painting contracting company before traveling the country for work. By the late 1980’s he worked with CRINC New England, a leader for its time in cutting-edge recycling technologies, involving himself in the day-to-day operations before advancing to project oversight roles in the construction of industrial-scale aluminum processing facilities.

By far his favorite time spent during these years were his humble fishing trips up to Maine with close friends. He deeply adored Maine’s natural beauty and in the early ‘90s he built himself a permanent home in the woods of Freeman Township. Traveling across New England for work and coming back to his oasis, he felt an undeniable calling within the Western Mountains of Maine.

In 1996 he had a son and was faced with his biggest challenge of all. He pondered his new life’s trajectory and soon relieved his roles in the corporate world to devote the rest of his adult life to being the best father and friend he could be.

Driven by this devotion, in the winter of 2000 he moved into Kingfield and soon involved himself within the local community. He would spend the better part of his 30’s and 40’s vying for local economic development and better opportunities for area youth and their parents.

In 2003 he co-founded the Kingfield POPS outdoor summer concert, an annual event that showcases regional musicians, youth performers, and the Bangor Symphony Orchestra, aimed at supporting the arts within Franklin County’s communities through outreach to local schools. He fulfilled roles as Artistic Director among many others and was a deeply cherished advocate. He later became involved in regional music promotion for Portland-based artists as well.

Continuing his devotion to this mission alongside his lifelong love of baseball, he spent every summer in the decade following on the sports complexes of Western and Central Maine, volunteering as head coach of local Cal Ripken, Babe Ruth, school, and all-star teams. He was not only known to spend extra time with struggling players, he went further to organize new regional “fall ball” leagues to keep the opportunities expanding.

"Coach Dave" as he was known; always compassionate, knowledgeable and fun-oriented, he found proficiency in this role, coaching a Franklin County all-star team to the New England championships. During many of these years he wrote for Kingfield-based publication The Original Irregular, using his voice to spread community awareness of issues and events.

Sugarloaf area ski teams, Kingfield and surrounding area basketball programs, soccer leagues, recreation programs, and the Kingfield Days organization were all graced by David’s dedicated coordination and involvement. He was truly a man you could count on and a man that cared.

David completed his mission and returned to house painting, running a successful business in the area. During this time he unwound from the day-to-day fishing and canoeing with friends and family, attending local concerts, and spending time with his son.

David is survived by his son Jonathan Hart of Kingfield, ME, his mother Joanne Hart of Methuen, MA, his sister Donna Hart and her husband Jay Schuster of Methuen, MA, his brother Steven Hart of Atlanta, GA, his sister Jacquelyn Hart of Mount Shasta, CA, his nieces and nephews Ali, Rudie, Dakota, Kaya, and Neila, and all the friends he made along the way.

David’s favorite pastime was compassion, his favorite job was being a father.

Please carry on David’s memory by supporting your local community when and where you can.

He will be dearly missed.

-- written by David's son, Jonny

David

Last night, my brother passed away peacefully at 6:15 pm, Saturday, September 14, 2024. His loving son was bedside at the hospital with him in his last moments.  

Impermanence is swift. Our life is like a dream, time passes swiftly, and our dewlike life easily disappears. Since time waits for no one, try to do good to others and manifest kindness for all things as long as you are alive.

Have Gone Out

I can barely talk about it. 

My brother, my literal biological baby brother, is dying. He's currently in the hospital getting hospice care, beyond medical intervention and now in the "comfort" phase. His son, my nephew, describes him as a bed of lettuce between layers of blankets, with a morphine drip for pain.

He's 10 years younger than me. I should be the one who departs first. This feels so unnatural, in addition to heartbreaking.

That's all I can manage to say right now, other than I love you, bro. 

Fifth Day of the World Course

Fourth Day of the World Course

 

I did it! I beat diabetes!

Six months ago, a blood test indicated a glucose level of 179 mg/dL and an A1C of 6. The readings are indicative of prediabetes and if left untreated would develop into full-blown diabetes.

I don't want to be diabetic. I have 99 problems and don't want to add insulin injections as one. Instead of medication, however, I practiced a strict, nearly vegetarian diet of primarily fruit, nuts, berries, and leafy greens and started a regular walking/hiking regimen, both of which have been well documented in this blog. I know those posts were boring, but I wrote them not so much for you but as encouragement to myself to keep going.

I had a six-month follow-up exam yesterday and got my blood test results back today. My glucose dropped from 179 to 85 mg/dL, on the low side of the normal range (82-115 mg/dL), and my A1C dropped to 5.5%. A1C levels of 5.7% to 6.4% indicate prediabetes.

I suppose the relationship isn't linear, but given my 50% reduction in glucose, I thought my A1C would be lower than it was. Still, though, I'm out of the prediabetic range, although the 0.2% difference between my reading and the warning level is an encouragement to keep up with the healthy eating and exercise. Besides, I've come to enjoy both over the months.

I take my walking exercise every other day, and the days in between are for mediation - I'm up to 90 sitting minutes per event. It's zazen day and then kinhin day. It's been zazen, kinhin, zazen, kinhin every day since the start of August. Today was a zazen day, and during my sitting I listened to the sounds or wind and rain as the outer bands of Hurricane Francine passed overhead. 

I use my computer to time my meditation periods and today, during the third of three 30-minute sessions, the electricity flickered and I heard the popping sound of a transformer blowing somewhere in the distance. This happened twice in the span of about 60 seconds, although the power stayed on. However, the surge turned my computer off, so I sat there waiting to hear a 30-minute chime that never came. I counted my breaths to estimate the time - I've learned that in the still, quiet breathing of meditation, 10 breaths in and 10 breaths out is about one minute. I counted off twenty breath cycles in two groups of 10 each, so I knew that around 20 minutes had passed since the power surge - probably more as I didn't start counting immediately. 

When I finally got up and confirmed that my PC had shut down, almost 45 minutes had passed since the power surge. No worries, better to sit for too long than not long enough. Practice is enlightenment.

Third Day of the World Course

 

Remember that storm farting around the coast of Texas and Louisiana? Well, it's now a Cat 2 Hurricane, Francine, and just made landfall southwest of New Orleans with winds up to 100 mph. Current projections have it tracking up the Mississippi River, well west of Atlanta, but it's already brought cloudy skies and cooler temperatures here. 

I appreciated the cooler temps as I took my walk today. Temps were in the high 70s but after all the hot, sticky weather we've been having, it felt much cooler. It was so refreshing, I actually tacked an extra mile onto the end of my walk, not feeling beaten down by heat exhaustion and fatigue. 

This morning, I bought my Big Ears 2025 four-day pass. Sheesh. $1,150 for the pass (up from $950 least year and $750 the year before that). Plus $59.79 "service fee." Plus $12 shipping. $1,221.79 total. That's a lot of money, but I  try to justify it to myself by saying it's "only" about $300/day. That doesn't sound so bad does it? 

Had a doctor appointment today. He seemed to be in such a rush to get through my exam and on to whatever else it was he had to do next that he barely acknowledged that I dropped 40 pounds since the last time he saw me, or that my average blood pressure was down by 30 points. In fact, his first reaction was "Ooh, your blood pressure's gone up, hasn't it?" before I reminded him that 110 is, in fact, less than 140. Whatever.  

Second Day of the World Course

Today, Big Ears released its eagerly anticipated lineup for the March 2025 festival in Knoxville, Tennessee. 

Each year before, there had been at least one bucket-list performer on the schedule that I simply had to see. Laurie Anderson. Harold Budd. John Zorn. Patti Smith. This year, there were no "OMG, I have to see them" shows in the announcement, although it's still a strong overall lineup.

The headliner acts this year include the Philip Glass Ensemble performing Music in 12 Parts, although the announcement makes it clear that composer Glass himself will not be in attendance. German electronic musician Michael Rother will perform the music of his seminal bands Neu! and Harmonia. Johnny Greenwood of Radiohead will do something called 133 Years of Reverb, which seems to an eight-hour sound installation in an old church. Jazz trumpeter Wadada Leo Smith will lead a program that will include his RedKoral Quartet, the Wadada Leo Smith Quartet, Orange Wave Electric, Revolutionary Love, and more. There's also the premier of a composition by Tyshawn Sorey and something called Ipsa Dixit by soprano Kate Soper and the Wet Ink Ensemble. I've never heard of Soper, but the festival describes Ipsa Dixit as "an evening-length work of chamber music theater for voice, flute, violin, and percussion that explores music, language, and meaning through blistering ensemble virtuosity and extended vocal technique."

But it's after all that, that things get interesting for me. Ukraine's DakhaBrakha is performing. I saw them at Seattle's Bumbershoot Festival in 2013 having no idea who they were at the time - I was walking by their stage as they started and decided to stick around and check them out and they blew my mind. I haven't seen them in the 10 years since, so that's one set I'm certainly looking forward to.

There's also Nels Cline, possibly the most innovative living guitarist IMHO, Mike Reed’s Separatist Party, who released my personal AOTY last year, and the Sun Ra Arkestra playing with indie rockers Yo La Tengo. Then we have jazz guitarist Jeff Parker, both solo and with his post-rock band, Tortoise. Speaking of post-rock, Icelandic band múm is also on the schedule, as well as Austin's Explosions In the Sky.

Two years ago, I saw the indie slowcore band Low at Big Ears and shortly afterwards drummer and singer Mimi Parker of Low sadly passed away. Her husband, Low's guitarist and singer Alan Sparhawk, has now gone solo and will be performing at Big Ears this year. 

The experimental rock band Beak> will be performing, as will ambient-country bands SUSS and Cowboy Sadness. More conventional ambient music will be provided by William Basinski (The Disintegration Loops), Steve Roach, and harpist Mary Lattimore. There's also Yuka C. Honda, formerly of the unforgettable Cibo Matto, and Helado Negro and Julia Holter. Jazz musicians include Bill Frisell, Susan Alcorn, Sylvie Courvoisier, Kahil El’Zabar, Vijay Iyer, Joe Lovano, and others.

Overall, there's over 150 performances by over 50 artists, and still more artists to be added later. 

So is it all worth over $3,000 though ($1,150 for VIP pass and over $2,000 for a centrally located hotel)?

Fuck, yeah. Sign me up!

Day of the World Course

Don't mean to brag, but I saw another deer today, this one on the back stretch of the Chattahoochee trail.  

Metropolis Death and Being

 

I seem to be recovering from a long - maybe decade-long - depression. 

It probably started when I became disillusioned and disappointed with my career, formerly a central part of my life. The election of Donald Trump to the Presidency and his awful, hateful term in office didn't improve my disposition. Then came a directionless retirement, followed quickly by the covid lockdowns and uncertainties. The tree that fell on my house in October 2020 and the ensuing year of contractors, insurance headaches, and expenses weren't exactly helpful. 

I gained weight, fell out of shape, and became listless and inactive. My depression didn't manifest as a "woe-is-me" sadness, nor as an inability of feel joy like the pharmaceutical advertisements suggest. It was more just a stop to engagement with the world, a loss of any long- or short-term planning, and a lack of attention to housecleaning and personal hygiene.

The episode probably climaxed a year or so ago when I wound up in the ER with a bladder infection caused by incomplete emptying during urination. That forced me to get medical attention, which didn't address the mental health issues directly, but instead focused on getting my runaway hypertension under control, some urology to improve bladder health, and an advisory for exercise and diet to beat back a prediabetic prognosis.

It was the exercise and diet that made the difference. Once that was underway, I lost over 40 pounds and got my blood pressure under control. I had more energy, and that gave me more ambition, and that led to more engagement in the world beyond the walls of my house. Eventually, I resumed my dormant meditation practice and started reading more (and books, not just websites and social media).

We think we're these complex psyches that need some combination of therapy and pharmaceuticals to conquer things like depression and mental illness. Maybe some of you are and perhaps some challenges may require all of that, but don't underestimate the rejuvenating and healthful benefits of taking long walks, eating non-processed foods, and focused mindfulness. And kindness to pets and accepting their love back.

Worked for me.

Communique of Unknown Voltage

 

Such a good day. The Sports Desk spent the early afternoon watching Texas beat up on Michigan, 31-12. For those of you confused as to why we were cheering for Texas, recall that in last year's SEC Championship Game, Alabama beat repeat National Champion Georgia, 27-24. If football followed the conventions of boxing, Alabama would have taken Georgia's championship belts with the victory. But then, in their very next game, Alabama lost to Michigan, 27-20 (OT) in the CFP Semifinals, so Michigan got Georgia's two championship belts from Alabama, and the Wolverines had the belts at the beginning of this season. At the beginning of the day today.

Georgia wants their belts back, but doesn't have a scheduled game against Michigan.  However, Georgia will play Texas on October 19, and now that Texas has won the belts from Michigan, the Bulldogs have a chance of winning them back. So even though the Sports Desk doesn't like Texas football, we were happy to see the Longhorns win today. But only today, although we need them to keep winning and not lose the belts until we play them on Oct. 19. 

Also today, the two-time National Champion, No. 1-ranked, undefeated Georgia Bulldogs beat unranked Tennessee Tech, 48-3. And then, as if the day couldn't get any better, unranked NIU beat No. 4 Notre Dame, 16-14, and we despise Notre Dame and their hunchback team.

But then came the real blessing of the day. After the football games, it was time to take out the trash. Literally. I was taking the garbage out to the bin just before sunset, the crepuscular hour when it's still light outside, when I saw a small whitetail deer in my front yard. 

I live in the city. Wildlife beyond squirrels, racoons, and the occasional opossum is rare. We're blessed with chipmunks and owls here, too, but a deer is quite the unexpected surprise. It froze and stared at me, trying to determine my intentions, and both of its big, rabbit-like ears were turned toward me.

I spoke to it softly and gently, "Hi, there guy," and "Not gonna hurt you," and that kind of thing. I didn't more or walk toward it, just stood there on my front stoop with a bag of trash in my hand watching him (or her) watch me. This lasted for two minutes or so, and then the deer suddenly bolted off around the side of my house and into the back yard.

My yard is fenced in on three sides, everything but the front, and there was no place for the deer to escape except to come back out where I had seen it. I went back there, but the deer had somehow disappeared. Hopped a fence or had found some little gap or something - I don't know. But it was gone.

I always take these random sightings as karmic omens from nature. I must be living right for a deer to decide that my yard was a safe place to pass through or for a big old barred owl to land in one one of my trees. It feels like a peek under the tent at the divine. It feels like a nod of approval from Mother Nature that I'm doing something right.

Even Nature must hate Notre Dame. That's got to be it. 

Distant Strollers

 

That feeling when you realize you've been cheated out of $17,000.

First world problems, I know. 

Here's the story: way back in 2007, the company  I was working for let me go. I wasn't fired for cause, but the company in general and my office in particular had been struggling, and management decided that it was because my sales weren't meeting expectations (I wasn't a salesman). Sucks, but one phone call got me my next job and I didn't miss a beat, career-wise.

I could have rolled my 401(k) money from that job into my IRA, but I decided to keep it with the financial service they used to see if the interest/ROI there was any better. I kept it there over the years with the goal of keeping my savings diversified. The account changed hands several times over the years as my old company changed financial service firms, and the company itself was bought and sold at least twice in corporate mergers and acquisitions. But I kept my eye on the ball and tracked my money from account to account.   

I retired five years ago, and recently decided it was finally time to collect that 401(k) money. The account total is now over $27,000 after all the years of stock-market growth (I have more money in my IRA plus a few other 401(k) accounts - I didn't retire on $27,000 worth of savings). But when I went to make a withdrawal this week, I was told that my former company never deposited the matching funds, and that I was only vested $10,000 of the $27,000 total. In other words, $17,000 of the money in my account wasn't "mine."

I argued, I pleaded, and the account manager was sympathetic, but said that my vested portion of the account had been set since I parted ways with the old company. He suggested that I might want to contact the company and ask if they could contribute the rest of the funding now, but short of that, the total listed amount wasn't in the account, only the $10,000 or so that had been withheld from my paychecks while I worked there. He pointed out that different companies have different policies on when their employees become fully vested. I had been let go after three years and three months - perhaps I hadn't yet reached their vesting milestone, but I could call them and find out.

Good luck with that. I can just imagine how that call would go: "Hello, you let me go 17 years ago. Can you put $17,000 into my retirement fund, please?"  Honestly, I wouldn't even know where to start calling, and I'm sure the present financial officer, if I could even find him or her, would say I have to call some legacy fund or something for those kinds of things, or file some claim, or contact a fiduciary to find what benefits remain. In any event, whoever's in charge now is going to be more interested in protecting the interests of his employer than making things right for someone who didn't work out almost two decades ago. 

I'm not going to even start. I know I won't be successful, and I know I'll get a frustrating and stressful run-around. Actively trying to get the money will only make the loss that much more painful for the effort. I got screwed over by the company 17 years ago, I never got the money that was due to me, and now I never will. I just need to accept that and move on. Never did like those folks, anyway. 

Final blow: after taxes, I get only $8,000 of my vested $10k. So I started this process hoping to collect $27,000, and will walk away with only $8,000. Of course, as a retiree, I should be able to get most, if not all, of my withheld taxes refunded next April.

Day of the Animal Mind

 

Those three tropical waves in the Atlantic with potential to develop into hurricanes are now five separate hot spots. At least one has already been hijacked by the Gulf Stream and is heading north well off the East Coast of North America, but the others are all potential threats. That one off the coast of Texas is still farting around on the Gulf Coast causing torrential rain and another is wedged in between the Yucatan and the Mexican mainland. The remaining two are out in the Atlantic and it's anyone's guess where they're heading next.

Meanwhile, my cumulative walking distance now extends from my Atlanta home all the way to Pittsburgh. Fun fact: I moved back to Atlanta from Pittsburgh in 1993, so I'm metaphorically retracing my steps.

But while I'm writing, the Gaming Desk is jumping up and down with its hand up and going, "Ooh, ooh!" It wants to say that last night it finally beat the game Deus Ex: Human Revolution.

We didn't like the game. Sorry if that offends any of you Play Station enthusiasts from 2011, but the game's painfully outdated now. The graphics suck by modern standards and the mechanics are clunky and confusing. Your inventory for weapons, ammo and supplies is way too limited and the maps often give you no idea where you're supposed to go. I found the main protagonist way too comically macho, all grim scowl and laconic dialog. He wore sunglasses most of the time, even indoors at night. I didn't care about any of the side characters or NPCs. When I finally beat the final boss and ended the game, I felt only relief that the game was over and absolutely no desire to play it again.

Hey, I bought it on Steam for $2.99 and played for 52 hours, so I shouldn't complain. I got my money's worth. Also, I played the game only in preparation for its sequel, 2016's Deus Ex: Mankind Divided. Hopefully, that will be a better experience.

Escape Journey Through

 

A monk asked Joshu in all earnestness, “I have just entered this monastery. I beg you, Master, teach me.” 

Joshu asked, “Have you finished your rice?” The monk answered, “Yes, I have.”

Joshu said, “Then wash your bowl.” At that moment, the monk was enlightened.

Part of being an urban monk is not needing a dishwasher. I don't generate a lot of dirty dishes on a daily basis. Breakfast is an English muffin (no dishes, just a knife). Lunch is a bowl of berries over yogurt (one bowl). Dinner is either a salad (one bowl) or brown rice and lentils (two bowls - one for preparation and one for eating). After each meal, I wash the bowl (or bowls). I make the dishwashing part of the eating ritual.

Most of my beverages come in plastic bottles, and I drink water by refilling the empties. But occasionally I have to hand wash a tumbler.

I use the same coffee mug every morning. I suppose I probably should wash it more often than I do, but I like to believe that the residue gives the coffee some added flavor.

I suppose I can load each bowl into the dishwasher and take a new one from the cupboard the next day, and then let the machine wash them all when I'm finally out of fresh dishes, but I fail to see the advantage of that. I also believe it would use up more water and power (especially considering the drying cycle).

It was probably about 10 years ago that my dishwasher stopped working. Maybe more (time flies). I had an electrician confirm that the washer was still getting power, and he said it was, but beyond that I'd be best served just getting a new dishwasher. I didn't - I just became the dishwasher and don't regret my decision for a minute.

They have a style of eating in some Zen monasteries called oryoki. It's a very elegant solution for managing the dishes of large numbers of monks. Each monk takes a serving of food in their bowl, and then eats it clean. Tea is poured into the same bowl, and the monk washes the residue with the tea and then drinks that down. A cloth napkin is used to wipe the bowl dry, and then the bowl is wrapped in the cloth napkin for storage until the next meal. No bowls to wash and no dishwasher duty, except for pots in the kitchen.   

I don't eat oryoki style and I have no intention to start. I'm a Contemplative Stoic urban monk, not a Zen monastic. But my simple, then-wash-your-bowl approach to dishware management is not without its Zen precendent.      

Day of the Sidestep

 

I'm approaching my goal of becoming an urban monk as a practicing Contemplative Stoic.

I can't honestly call myself a Zen Buddhist anymore, although I have absolutely no quarrels with Zen or its teachings. But Zen, as I understand Master Dogen's description, is an unmistakable handed-down tradition from teacher to student, and I've stepped outside of that line of transmission.

That's not a worry though. I still read Dogen and I still practice zazen. I've found many similarities, though, between the teachings of the Greek Stoic philosophers and the Zen teachers, although the practice of meditation seems to be missing from Stoic philosophy. I'm familiar, of course, with Marcus Aurelius' Meditations, but that's really more an anthology of "deep thoughts" than meditation practice in the Buddhist sense.

So in good ol' American DIY fashion, I've fused Stoicism with Zen practice and call it "Contemplative Stoicism." It's really a good marriage, as the discipline of sitting meditation, putting one's mind where you want it, when you want it, for as long as you want it, helps to build the famous resolve of Stoicism.

Another thing I like about Stoicism, a philosophy, as opposed to Zen Buddhism, a religion, is the former doesn't have the latter's gatekeepers and nannies constantly telling folks that they still don't quite have it right yet. If your understanding of Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus isn't the same as some Oxford professor who's read them in the original Greek, it doesn't matter. You can take what you need and leave the rest, a la carte. 

Zen teachers will say I'm giving up on my chance at enlightenment, and I'd say, enlightenment's bunk. I've been to a lot of Zen centers and met a lot of teachers, both Japanese and American, and have yet to meet an "enlightened" person. Besides, Master Dogen teaches that practice is enlightenment, and that all of us are enlightened in the moments that we are practicing zazen. So excuse me while I pass on buying your snake oil.

Zen is usually practiced in the Chinese and Japanese traditions by monks and in monastic settings. But stories abound about monks who left the monastery and practiced on their own in the isolation of mountaintops and deep forests. Mountain monks and forest monks. I argue that in the midst of all the hustle and bustle of the city, it's as equally possible to be isolated as in the classic settings. In fact, isolation and alienation are real mental-health problems in our cities today. But as opposed to the householder living with a spouse, partner, or children, it's quite possible for one living on their own to achieve near monastic isolation in the city. It's a lot noisier that the forest or the mountaintop, sure, but the distractions are in your head, not in the environment. 

I live alone, I dine alone, and at nights I read and sleep alone. I'm retired and don't need to go to a job, nor worry about earning a wage. I live with a pet cat, who helps me practice patience and compassion. My days alternate between walking-hiking and sitting meditation. Today was a walking day, yesterday and tomorrow are meditation days. I interact with neighbors and shopkeepers compassionately and kindly. If that doesn't meet your expectations for a Zen monk, fine - I'm not claiming to be one. It's what I call a Contemplative Stoic urban monk, and it is what it is because I make it so.

Works for me, but (and I mean this kindly) you do you.                  

Cloud Hammer

We're a little over a week away from the lineup announcement for the 2025 Big Ears festival, scheduled for September 10. A recent email from the festival's founder confirmed the price of VIP and the elite Sonic Explorer passes will go up this year, and that there will be more "separately ticketed" events, additional costs over and above the $963.86 I spent last year on the Sonic Explorer pass. 

The only available hotel room I can find, more than six months before the start of the festival, was at the Embassy Suites at $559/night (with taxes, fees and all the other bells and whistles, $2,621.71 for four nights). But on Saturday, I finally had a breakthrough, and managed to book a room at the Hyatt Place, the hotel I've always stayed at there, at the "Member Rate" of "only" $479/night, with Sunday night down to $395 (still, $2,148.02 total).  

In a Facebook post last weekend, the festival said that Pitchfork's "50 Best Albums of 2024" list includes many of the performer to be announced for this year, and told one commenter that their guesses, which included Los Campesinos!, The Dirty Three, Crumb, Beth Gibbons, Jessica Pratt, Hovvdy, Vampire Weekend, Julia Holter, Empress Of, Waxahatchee, Mannequin Pussy, Grandaddy, Kali Malone, and The Smile were "good guesses." In other separate posts, the festival praised recent releases by Pratt and Holter, so one could reasonably assume those two are likely participants next year.

There are some good performers on that list, sure, but it's hardly the unique, one-of-a-kind line-up I've come to expect from Big Ears. I'm not sure I want to spend that kind of money, nearly $3,000,  just to see a bunch of acts that tour regularly and will probably be passing through Atlanta in the next few months anyway.

Of course, I could save money by buying a cheaper, General Admission pass and staying in a hotel outside of Knoxville and driving in each day. But that would be a very different experience, and even though it would cost less money, it wouldn't be worth the time and travel to go.

I still haven't lost hope, though. I'm holding out that when the lineup is announced, it will be amazing and worth every penny of the price. I have nothing against Julia Holter and Jessica Pratt and have seen them both in concert in the past, and they'd make welcome additions to the lineup, although not as headliners. The Dirty Three, Kali Malone, and Beth Gibbons have all performed at Big Ears in the past and I would welcome any of them back, although again not as headliners.

My prediction is that this year will include Malone, Arooj Aftab and Kahil El'Zabar & The Ethnic Heritage Ensemble (they all have new releases out and are currently touring). But past that, it's anyone's guess. 

Now I Make the Moves

 

I had an epiphany, a sudden flash of insight. It occurred at 6:22 am this morning.

The realization was that I'm becoming, if I haven't already become, a disagreeable person.

Recently my thoughts are often drifting back to previous episodes in my life, from earlier this summer all the way back to the early 1970s, about people who I feel somehow wronged me or situations that I felt were unfair. I find myself reliving long-ago conversations, reconstructing old arguments, and imagining the devastating comebacks and putdowns I could have - should have - said.

Sitting in zazen, trying to quiet the mind, and realizing I've been in some revenge fantasy over something that happened in, like, 2003. Taking my hiking walk or walking hike or what have you and discovering that for the past half-mile, I haven't noticed much of anything around me, so involved was I in some imaginary conversation with some perceived enemy (and wondering if I had been talking out loud). Looking at my comments and posts on social media, and noticing that I've been picking fights left and right, and then getting angry when someone takes the bait and responds to some provocation I posted.

Last night, I had a dream that I was back in corporate world again and was told that someone was bad-mouthing me over the phone on a conference call. I barged into the room, and later confronted the person, an attorney, in person, in their office. I don't remember now what I said in my dream, something along the lines of "If you've got something to say to me, say it to my face," although I don't think I was channeling Kamala Harris in my dreams. Later in the same dream, I was having a similar conversation with one of the women in the accounting department. I awoke and realized that these persecution and revenge fantasies had become so ingrained they were even manifesting in my subconscious. I rolled over and looked at the alarm clock.

6:22 a.m.

I want to manifest loving kindness. I want to be cognizant of all the blessings and goodness I've received in life (I have much for which to be grateful). I want to feel intimately interconnected to the many sentient things all around me, but this virus in my mind keeps goading me into attacking anything and anyone it perceives as a threat to my ego. I've got my work cut out for me.