The supreme good is like water,
which nourishes all things without trying to.
It is content with the low places that people disdain.
Thus it is like the Tao.
In dwelling, live close to the ground.
In thinking, keep to the simple.
In conflict, be fair and generous.
In governing, don’t try to control.
In work, do what you enjoy.
In family life, be completely present.
When you are content to be simply yourself
and don’t compare or compete,
everybody will respect you and you will respect yourself.
Tao Te Ching
…to live with uncertainty.
…to reflect on the meaning of the past.
… to adapt to differences encountered.
…to understand what that knot in your stomach is saying to you.
…to embrace change and new realities.
…to make loved one’s a priority.
…to ask them for help.
…to cherish Time Un-rushed.
…to see yourself in a boat at sea with others.
…to ride the highs and lows of the waves together.
…to judge the changes in the tide with your companions.
…to continue with new ways of living.
…that we are confronted by a human crisis.
…to understand that crisis may be easier for you than for others.
…what it is we want to change, and to build?
October 17, 2016 at 7:42 pm
A couple is 2.
A few is 3 or 4.
Five is 5, because it’s a round number. It’s five. If you mean 3, 4, 6, 7, etc. you don’t mean five. If you mean 5 you’d say five.
Several is 6, 7, 8, or 9. Because ten is 10. It’s two 5’s. A ten. Ten-spot.
Some is 3 to 175.
Once upon a time not so long ago, in fact a few, or several, or some weeks ago just before we were ordered to shelter in our abodes because a deadly virus was encroaching upon the world and getting closer to home, I paid a visit to the local library. And, boy, am I glad I did because I checked out two interesting books. Did I read them? Well true confession: in parts. Both books are a series of short stories each by its own author, and the one I’m going to talk about now is by a very famous science fiction writer of the past, who wrote the novel “Stranger in a Strange Land.” A book I’ve never read but would like to. Short stories seemed more manageable. So the short story I am finishing now, is about someone’s house that mysteriously and tragically went up in flames and it turns out the perpetrator was a person who practiced witchcraft, or black magic, making it more difficult to fix the problem. The architect who’s hired to do so is an honorable and thoughtful man. Anyway, the truth of the matter is that I stopped in the middle of this story, and have no idea if what I told you is really what happened, or if I just made it up. I think they call that meta diction or metafiction, or something like that. Anyway, I will tell you what’s absolutely true – The title is “Magic Inc.” and in this story good people travel around on magic carpets to get from one place to the next. I also know gnomes, yes, gnomes, were hired to rebuild the house that bunted down, but since the gnomes were only four feet tall they were subject to verbal abuse, and a spanking if they dared to cross Mrs. Jennings the proprietor of the burnt house. Mrs. Jennings is just a little bit evil. Well, I think I will finish this story without looking back, as I’m fascinated with all the magic that unfolds within its narrative. My urgency to get back to it stems from the fact that the library just opened up in phase two of the sheltering in place process and they informed me that they renewed the books, but that they will be due July 21. Plenty of time!
As I look back at the strangeness of this invasive virus that has disrupted everyone’s life I can’t help but think that we are now living in sci fI times, and it truly feels like we are strangers in a strange land, and what we could really use is an army of gnomes to get us back on course, and maybe a few magic carpets to get to places we can only imagine these days, going to in our dreams. I highly recommend that you read “Magic inc” so you can tell me what happens in the beginning. Happy magic carpet flying! And watch out for bad witches.
P.S. Follow the link and read more about the author of “Magic Inc.” and “Stranger in a Strange Land.”
Did you know that French paleontologists have discovered massive footprints left by three gigantic long necked sauropods, in a location called Castelbouc Cave? According to Science News these sauropods walked along the seaside 168 million years ago. The discovery was made by Jean-David Moreau and his colleagues who descended 500 meters into the natural cave, where they’ve studied these five-toed herbivore tracks measuring 1.25 meters in length. The footprints were actually found on the roof of the cave. Imagine the immensity of these creatures that lived in the mid Jurassic era. The scientists work out of the Université Bourgogne Franche-Compté in Dijon, France.
Paraphrased in my own words, the information was taken from, “This paleontologist goes spelunking for dino prints” by John Pickrell
Science News / June 6, 2020
So much sadness in the world. People dying alone, or on their cell phone, through a hospital window saying goodbye to a loved one. Or not saying goodbye from a bed in the projects, or a castle on the rock, like Mont San Michel. Too much misery.
The tsunami was coming our way. But who would have thought what happened in Italy could come here. Puzzling they had such a first class health system, but people were chosen to live or die like a basket of apples, the rotten ones were thrown out. We were better than this, or so we thought. For it came to our doorstep and the Big Apple held on as long as possible but it was too late. Crash! Beds full to the brim and nurses and aides and doctors rushed to the rescue, in Louisiana and other places where people of color became the main victims of their own poverty. No health education or welfare. Horrific and swept under the rug, dead bodies left to rot in a truck at a mortuary, in Brooklyn. Hard to believe.
Some people say it’s a hoax.
Everything put on hold, at the center of the press and pushed out the arrest for the lynching two months ago of Ahmaud Arbery, out for a jog in his hometown in the middle of the day shot and killed in cold blood, by a man and son with links to the local sheriff. How are black to live day to day without putting up a guard. Impossible. Injust. But no one cares about the black boys whose lives are ruined, since the day they set foot on this soil.
More law issues permeate the news as our corrupt government frees a lying accomplice to a crime flirting with the Russians. What does it matter?
There is a silver lining to all of this madness. Some have never been so happy in their everyday productive lives. The skies are clear, the roads are empty. But people are unemployed. The worst since 1939.
What will happen now that we are flattening the curve? Hospitalizations decline, even though the deaths continue to fluctuate, and the cases rise. We don’t know who’s infected. We treat others like banshees as we cross their paths. All we can do is say “Hi!”
What will tomorrow bring?
“New Clothes and Old Clothes” from “The New Book of Days” by Eleanor Farjeon, captures the way I feel about old clothes. There are some pieces of clothing I really love and can’t part with. I may or may not wear them, but keep them for their colors, the feel of the fabric, or some memory attached to an event or time. It may be something I wore over and over again – the threads so bare, the collar so frayed. The intangibility of the passing of that time is what matters most to me.
Eleanor says, “In May, older clothes are kinder to you then new ones.”
I rather like New Clothes,
They make me feel so fine,
Yet, I am not quite Me,
The clothes are not quite mine.
I really love Old Clothes,
They make me feel so free,
I know that they are mine,
For I feel just like Me.
When the pandemic began to effect my life, seriously I was reading “Living” by Annie Dillard, an excellent writer, but the story got to be so dreary, I picked up Willa Cather’s book “The Professor’s House.” I knew I could count on Willa to give me some sense of redemption – not in the self-centered way, but rather in the universal sense. Now I’m reading a book my daughter recommended to me a few years ago. It’s called “The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks,” by Rebecca Skloot. I didn’t know it, (and maybe I still don’t know much) but Henrietta Lacks was the person whose cells, called the HeLa cells, revolutionized the advancement of medical research, especially for cancer. Everyone is supposed to have heard of these, but few knew how scientists got their hands on them, or at least it wasn’t published readily, so Rebecca thought it time to reveal the story of the person from whom they borrowed these cells. She dug into family history, and Henrietta Lack’s daughter, Deborah became a source for the story. Rebecca quotes Deborah, in the first chapter:
I always have thought it was strange, if our mother cells done so much for medicine, how come her family can’t afford to see a doctor? Don’t make no sense. People got rich off my mother without us even knowing about them takin her cells, now we don’t get a dime. I used to get so mad about that to where it made me sick and I had to take pills. But I don’t got it in me no more to fight. I just want to know who my mother was.