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.

Day of the Mounds, Betelgeuse, 27th of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

I may be minimizing my news-watching hours, but I still scored 100% on this week's NY Times' weekly news quiz. That should serve as an indicator of how pervasive coverage of current events has become.

I logged 7.5 miles on today's walk. I hiked the Cochran Shoals loop, but didn't take in Sibley Pond or the old Sope Creek paper mill ruins. I guess I'm channeling my news-watching energy into walking mileage. 

I've been listening recently to Bob Holmes' Ambient Country podcast. The music includes a lot of artists I've been listening to for a while, Brian Eno, Daniel Lanois, Mary Lattimore, Walt McClements, and of course, Holmes' band, Suss.   Many of the artists from the podcast (not Eno) will be at Big Ears next March, something to look forward to in these trying times.    

The Subtle Cabinet, Atlas, 26th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

Trump is our next president, much to my profound disappointment, and the shitshow has already begun. From stomach-turning cabinet nominations to his refusal to sign the ethics pledge legally required by the Presidential Transition Act, the deplorable actions of the Twenty-Teens are already returning. Yes, the circus is back in town, but that doesn't mean I have to enjoy the monkeys.

To be honest, my mental health vis a vis depression is already a tenuous thing, and I don't want or need to get pulled back into the despair and daily outrage I experienced from 2016 (and earlier) to 2020 (and beyond). I refuse to binge-watch the pundits on MSNBC all day telling me exactly why the latest proclamation is so upsetting, or doomscroll through social media for hours on end as each commenter tries to one-up the outrage of the next. I'm not going to indulge in the anger and the resentment that I did during his first administration.

I'm not approving of his politics and policies, though. Far from it. I'm just going to control my reactions to the abysmal events that will unfold over the next several years rather than let those events and news cycles control me. And if you think I'm choosing ignorance over an informed opinion, you're wrong. I can keep abreast of current events through casual reading and news watching. In fact, it's pretty much unavoidable in this current, wired, digital age. 

If you see a post here from time to time protesting some new policy or current event, it doesn't mean I've abandoned my vow. But I'm going to try, as best I can, to comment on a calm and rational basis on injustices I see in the world, both nationally and abroad. 

The Stoics emphasized recognition and distinction between things you can control and things you can't. I can't control the actions of the Chief Executive of the United States. The Buddha taught that one cause of suffering is clinging to the delusion that things are different than they really are. My beloved country has willfully installed a fascistic dictator into its highest office, and pretending that's not the case, or that it's alright, only hurts myself. Accepting that I can't change the election but can only govern my own behavior and actions in the difficult times ahead is the only rational course.

And this I will try.

Day of the Given, Helios, 25th of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

After Monday's hike along the Appalachian and Benton MacKaye Trails, today's walk in the Chattahoochee River National Recreation Area felt like nothing. Even the hills I had thought of as "challenging" (and had seen mountain bikers huffing and puffing to ascend) were an easy effort. 

I had so much energy I pushed myself a little further and undertook a few extra miles to explore the old mill ruins along Sope Creek. In all, I walked 10.3 miles today, a record for this year - and for more years than I care to admit if I'm being honest about it.

Again, pics or it didn't happen: 

Ascendant Eye, Electra, 24th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

A Louisiana law requiring every public school classroom in the state to display the Ten Commandments has been halted by a federal judge. These are hard times and we need to celebrate the minor victories, even temporary ones, while we can.

The Wander Stones, Deneb, 23rd Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

I hiked the Three Forks Loop Trail in the Chattahoochee National Forest today with my daughter and son-in-law.

The trail is a 4.4-mile loop starting on the Appalachian Trail from Three Forks, where Stover Creek, Long Creek, and Chester Creek all come together. The AT follows Stover Creek for a mile or so and then begins an ascent up Rich Mountain (3,297 feet), really more of a long ridge than a mountain. After about 2.5 miles, the AT reaches the summit of Rich Mountain, where it crosses the Benton MacKaye Trail. The loop follows the BMT along the Rich Mountain ridgetop and then back down to Three Forks.

Trail guides list the loop as 4.4 miles, but my iPhone insists I walked 5 miles. My daughter's odometer recorded 5.5 miles. 

It was generally an overcast day, but the sun managed to break through from time to time.  Foliage was supposed to be at a peak right now, but for the most part the leaves had already fallen and the trees were bare. It was still a beautiful day and a beautiful hike, though. And any opportunity to converse with nature is preferable to sitting home watching the news and getting agitated over social media.

Pics or it didn't happen:    

The Red Hand, Castor, 22nd Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

The Sports Desk is posting here again today.

A previous post explained the concept of the lineal championship belt, an imaginary reward that's passed from team to team in college football going back to the very first football game ever played. It's literally a long story (over 150 years) but to get to the point, the Georgia Bulldogs won it away from Texas back on October 19 (Electra, Fifth Day of the Hammer, 74th of Autumn in the Universal Solar Calendar).

Our reign didn't last long. Yesterday, the Ole Miss Rebels won the belt away from Georgia in an unlovely, 28-10 ass-whipping.

The road to winning the belt back is not yet apparent. It's not mathematically impossible but highly, highly unlikely the two teams will face each other in the SEC championship (it's far more likely neither team will be in the championship game). It's possible the two teams will face each other again in the College Football Playoffs, but there's still at least three more regular-season games before the qualifying teams and the seeding is known. 

It's entirely possible that some other team will win the belts away from Ole Miss before Georgia gets a chance to win them back from the Rebels. We may have to wait until after the playoffs and until the 2025 regular season schedules are announced before we can plot a path to get the belts back again. 

But be assured that as soon as that path is known, I'll be reporting it here.

Day of the Iron Crown, Betelgeuse, 21st of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

I ran into my "friend" again on my walk along the Beltline. I hadn't seen him since the day before when he walked away angry after I told him he was pronouncing "Kamala" wrong. 

He was walking towards me and in an attempt to be friendly, to show that there were no hard feelings, I broke onto a big, broad smile and pointed him out. Lest pointing be misconstrued to be aggressive or somehow insulting, I then lifted my hand and flashed him a peace sign.

Apparently, there still are hard feelings. "Just leave it at that," he said as he walked past me. "Just leave it at that."

My total walking mileage since the beginning of the year is now 762 miles. A circle drawn around my house with a diameter of 762 miles would take in Dallas and Houston, would intersect Green Bay, Wisconsin and Traverse City, Michigan, encompass all five boroughs of New York City, and extend south all the way to Havana, Cuba. Four nations are now included in my ever-expanding circle: the United States, Canada, Bahamas, and Cuba, but the circle still hasn't reached the Mexican border;.it may hit the Yucatan before it gets to Matamoras on the Texas-Mexico border. I've been averaging 2.4 miles/day this year, but since I actually walk every other day, that's an average of 4.8 miles per hike. Yesterday, I walked seven.       

The Open Stages, Atlas, 20th Day of Hagwinter, 625 M.E.

I've been trying to avoid the 24-hour news channels and to even minimize my online news reading, but it's still unavoidable. The progressive left media are all asking what went wrong in the 2024 election, and each pundit has their own answer. It's Harris' fault for courting the moderates and Republicans too much, and in the process losing her Democratic base. It's Biden's fault for not dropping out of the race sooner, leaving too little time for an open convention or a meaningful campaign. It's the Democratic voters' fault for not showing up in sufficient numbers to affect the vote. It's the Republican voters' fault for their blind allegiance to Trump. It's the Russians' fault for spreading disinformation. It's the liberals' fault for their emphasis on pronouns and using terms like "Latinx." I've even heard it's Anthony Fauci's fault for the way he handled the covid crisis, because, sure, let's kick him around some more. 

None of these are true and all of these are true. There's no one single scapegoat, but it is possible to connect the dots back to each one of these so-called "causes."

It's been said that white, working-class voters felt disaffected by the Democratic Party. They felt they were being talked down to by elite party leaders, who they thought considered them simple and unsophisticated. There's some truth to that, and I got a first-hand demonstration Wednesday.

On my usual walk along my usual route at my usual time, I ran into another person who I frequently see doing the same as me. Sometimes we talk - local news, Beltline development plans, the health effects of our walking regimes. I suspected he was a Republican and to the right of my views but we didn't talk politics and frankly I didn't care - he was just some person I occasionally bumped into on the trail.

But Wednesday, he was fired up to talk about Tuesday night's election results. I told him talking about politics wasn't a good idea and warned him we were probably of opposite sides of the aisle on this one, but he was excited and blurted out his Fox News talking points anyway. "It was a landslide," "a clear mandate from the people if there ever was one," "this time he'll have the Senate and probably the House, too,"  and "he'll pick the right staff this time that won't try to hold him back like before." 

I told him I didn't disagree with the facts of his statements, but felt everything he was saying was bad news for America and probably the whole world. I told him I thought Trump was a miserable, loathsome, dishonest cheater, a fraud, and probably a traitor. He was not persuaded and said he felt the same way about my side. Hunter Biden's laptop came up for some reason.

I'll be honest - I didn't want to have that conversation. I was hurting, I was sad, and I was just trying to walk out my anxieties and sorrow. I didn't want and didn't need some MAGA zealot gloating in my face, but out of politeness and neighborly kindness, I tried to restrain myself.

"Well, the stock market's doing a lot better already than it did under Ka-MAL-la," he said, mispronouncing her name the same way Trump does, and probably Fox News since that's the way their messiah says it. 

"It's 'Comma-la'," I told him.

"Are you sure? I'm pretty sure it's 'Ka-MAL-la," he insisted.

"No, I've even heard her explain it as 'Comma' like the punctuation, followed by '-La'. Comma-La. Kamala."

And at that point, he lost it. He started walking away, yelling that I had no right telling him how to say her name. "I'll teach you to come to the South and tell people here how to talk," he shouted. 

I had a hard time believing he was serious. "Dude, don't walk away mad," I said, but he was already 20 yards away, visibly angry, and putting his ear pods back in. "Okay," I thought. There's nothing I could do, and no reason to try to appeal to his better judgement. Nothing lost, life goes on, and we walked our separate ways.

Two lessons learned (maybe three): 

1. He didn't get upset when I revealed myself to be a Dem, and he didn't get upset by my arguments. He only got angry when I corrected him. That goes to the theories about condescension and that the Right is very sensitive about being talked down to. 


2. The fact that his first reaction was to lash out at me for not being native to the South shows he has a tribal mentality and saw me as an "other." I'm an American citizen living in America, paying my property taxes and maintaining my home just like he probably does. I'm not his guest here in the South who needs to mind his manners and behavior, although he apparently feels that way. One can imagine how he thinks minorities and women should behave.


3. I was right - talking about politics wasn't a good idea.

Anaconda, Helios, 19th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

This morning, I found myself throwing the I Ching, something I haven't done in nearly a year. But I felt a need to throw for America, and the question I contemplated during the toss was basically, quo vadis, America? Where are we going? 

But the oracle did not answer that question, at least not directly. Instead, it gave me some great advice on how to manage myself in these difficult times.

The first two lines thrown were both yin lines, followed by a moving yang line: Kên, the immoveable mountain. Next, a moving yin line was followed by another moving yang line and then a solid yang line: Sun, the wind.

Wind above, the mountain below. Together, the two trigrams form Chien, the 53rd hexagram, representing gradual progress. The text reads: 

A gnarled pine grows tenaciously off the cliff face:

The wise person clings faithfully to dignity and integrity,

Thus elevating the collective spirit in one's own small way.

I recognize this as advise, not for America collectively, but for myself individually. I am, and if you're like me, we are, tenaciously clinging to a cliff right now, and are advised to maintain our dignity and integrity until the collective spirit of America can catch up to our progressive views. This interpretation is emphasized by the oracle of the moving lines. 

The hexagram as thrown contained three moving lines, in which case one is to consult the teaching of the middle moving line, in this case, that moving yin line in the upper Sun trigram. 

"Unavoidable but rather quite ordinary circumstances have placed you in an awkward situation. You did not foresee such an occurrence and were totally unprepared for it. You have been thrown off balance; you feel acutely embarrassed. There may be a way for you to fit in this situation so that whatever happens in it will not affect you adversely. On the other hand, there may not."

That's about as apt a description for our position in these times as one could expect from a 3,000-year-old text. But greater insight into this description is found in the moving lines immediately above and below.

The first moving line, the moving yang line of the lower, Kên trigram, is actually an admonishment: "You have not followed the course prescribed for you and, in an attempt to act individualistically, instinctively, and aggressively, you have gotten yourself into a tight and hostile situation. What has been done has been done. It is not possible for you to retrace your steps. Accept your present conditions as best you can." 

This advise from roughly 3,000 years ago (1,000 B.C., or the year 500 of the Vedic Era according to my version of the Universal Solar Calendar) anticipated the Stoic philosophers by at least a millennium. As quoted yesterday, the Greek philosopher Epictetus (50-135 A.D., or 550-635 of the Judeo-Christian Common Era) said, "We cannot control our external circumstances, but we can control how we respond to them." Challenging times can present us with an opportunity to strengthen our resolve. Anyone can maintain their dignity and integrity through calm and serene circumstances, but try maintaining your dignity and integrity through a tornado. Through chaos. Through a second Trump term.

In other words, the angst, the anxiety, and the anger we're suffering over the election results are of our own choosing. The I Ching and the Stoics aren't saying to embrace and accept the far-right politics, but to recognize that unless you're a U.S. Senator or a congressperson, there's probably not a lot you can do to control it right now. Sure, protest if you want if that's your reaction and inclination, but accept that the election has occurred, it's not going to change, and how you live your life in these times is your own decision. 

The moving line just above our oracular line is that moving yang line of the Sun trigram. This somewhat softens the blunt assessment of the previous lines and offers a cautiously optimistic prediction: "You have progressed so far and so much faster than others that you have become temporarily alienated from your friends and colleagues. You feel lonely and misunderstood, although in your own eyes you have fulfilled yourself. The attitudes of others have changed towards you: some have become spiteful, some shy, some obsequious, and some haughty. But this is only a passing phase. As your new position becomes more established and accepted, your social relationships will return to normal." 

Allow me the license to restate those lines in contemporary political jargon: We have become more progressive than the majority of our fellow citizens, who do not share our views and opinions. We feel alienated and misunderstood, although we also still feel we are correct. But impermanence is swift and nothing lasts forever, and if we maintain our dignity and integrity, others will eventually come around to our understanding.

In her consolation speech yesterday, Kamala Harris said that although she concedes the election, she does not concede "the fight . . .for freedom, for opportunity, for fairness, and for the dignity of all people, a fight for the ideals at the heart of our nation, the ideals that reflect America at our best — that is a fight I will never give up."

"Sometimes the fight takes a while." she acknowledged, but "that doesn't mean we won't win." 

So to put this all together, we should move through the stages of grief as best we're able and the sooner we arrive at acceptance, the better. After all, there's nothing we can do about it anyway and wishing it weren't so only makes our own selves suffer. We're encouraged to act and face life in these challenging times with dignity and integrity, and we're further advised that times do change and nothing last forever, not even Supreme Court appointments.

A gnarled pine grows tenaciously off the cliff face - the wise person clings faithfully to dignity and integrity, thus elevating the collective spirit in one's own small way.

Day of the Thigh Whip, Electra, 18th of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

 

We have to do four years of Trump over again? You've got to be kidding me.

Four more years of Agent Orange. His idiot sons and creepy wife. Stephen Miller, Steve Bannon, Ted Cruz, Marjorie Taylor Green, Jim Jordan, and Mike Johnson. And new this year, we get to include Elon Musk and RFK, Jr.   

I hated the first term. Some of the most stressful years of my life. Certainly the tensest period of the 21st Century. And now we have to do it all again? I know I'll find the strength somewhere, but right now I can't summon any enthusiasm for making that effort.

I just watched Kamala Harris' concession speech. Wow, talk about grace under pressure. It must have been a hard speech to give and she did it with poise and even a touch of her characteristic joy.

The Stoic philosopher Epictetus said, "We cannot control our external circumstances, but we can control how we respond to them." Challenging times can present us with an opportunity to strengthen our resolve. Anyone can stay calm and serene through times that are, well, calm and serene. Try staying calm and serene through a tornado. Through chaos. Through a second Trump term. 

We can all imagine what will happen the next four years to Ukraine, to the West Bank, to the NATO alliance. We can all imagine what will likely happen to our immigrant neighbors, to all marginalized communities, to women. To political opposition. To imagine it all now, before it even starts, can be overwhelming. I'm not saying to ignore it, but I'm going to try to face it and respond as appropriate as it arises. Should I survive, I'll emerge someday as a stronger person.     

Frozen Reeds, Deneb, 17th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

If you're anything like me, you've been anxiously waiting all day for the polls to close at 7 p.m, and finally learn the answer to the question all of Georgia has been nervously anticipating - how will the Bulldogs fare in the first College Football Playoff rankings of 2024? 

LOL. But seriously, what a strange and inopportune day for the rankings to come out. Actually, come to think of it, this is actually a good day, what with 99.9% of the media's attention all directed elsewhere, to announce something you'd like the world not to notice. Boeing workers have announced an agreement with the embattled aircraft manufacturer and an end to the strike - it was probably management and not labor that wanted to wait until Election Day to make that particular announcement. Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu announced he was firing his Defense Minister, citing "gaps’ in his approach to the genocidal war in Gaza. North Korea just announced the other day that they're ramping up their nuclear weapons program. 

But you'd have to scroll way down on any news site to see any of that, which is probably what they wanted.

As for the U.S. election, I'm using every bit of self-discipline and self-control I have to not obsess over it. I took a 7½ mile walk today to avoid doom scrolling on line or binge watching MSNBC. When I got home, I meditated for 90 minutes to keep calm and centered. As I write this, it's still well over an hour before the first polls close, and probably many more hours or even days before the smoke clears.

But at least I'll have the CFB rankings to think about in the meantime.  

Smith Dynasty, Castor, 16th Day of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

Did you vote yet? If not, who ya votin' for? If you're undecided, may I suggest Kamala Harris? If you're leaning toward Trump, may I suggest Kamala Harris instead? Whatever the case, I suggest you vote for Harris. 

No one knows what's going to happen tomorrow. No one knows who'll win the popular vote or who'll win the Electoral College. No one knows if every state will go along with the will of the people and certify the vote, or if they'll try to install fake electors if they don't like the results. No one knows just what type of litigation may result from the election, or how the courts will decide. No one knows shit.

I do know this: if Agent Orange, the human Cheeto, the Great Pumpkin himself, does win, we're in for a very long and very sad chapter in American and world history. The rise of national and international authoritarianism, civil unrest, mass deportations, and monetary chaos. Totalitarianism and fascism. A time of wars and rumors of wars. Accelerated climate change and collapse of entire ecosystems. Disease, pandemics, plague and pestilence. 

I'm not being hyperbolic here. I really, honestly do believe this. The only solace I can find is that I'm old and won't be around for the worst of it. But the rest of y'all will have brought this down on yourselves. If you vote for Trump, shame on you. 

Shame.

Day of the Five Writers, Betelgeuse, 15th of Hagwinter, 524 M.E.

The title of this post is sort of the USC equivalent of saying "Panamanian Independence Day, Sunday, 3rd of November, 2024 C.E." This auspicious day is noted for the death of psychoanalyst and philosopher Wilhelm Reich (The Mass Psychology of Fascism, The Function of the Orgasm, etc.) in 1957, and the birth that same exact year and day of Dolph Lundgren (Rocky IV). If that's not proof of reincarnation right there, I don't know what will convince you, lol.

BTW, which sounds better to you for the second day of the week, "Betelgeuse" or "Betelday?" I worry that the former will get confused with the movie franchise. Would "Bellatrix" be better?

Meanwhile, we're all waiting with bated breath to learn the results of this Tuesday's poll. Of course, I'm talking about the NCAA's first College Football Playoff rankings, which come out Tuesday night. The results of the Presidential election won't matter because MAGA extremists on state election boards will muddle and contest the results and invite litigation, which will go all the way up to the Supreme Court, which will anoint the Orange One president. But thanks for playing Democracy 2024 with us and the media outlets sure appreciate the $10 billion with a "b" spent on advertising.