4.23.2016,8:49 PM
The Bass Pro Siren
Forgive me, Goddess, for I have sinned.
Almost passing a Bass Pro store, the steering wheel suddenly steered left and turned into their parking lot. Struggling against a magnet, I was pulled into their front doors and pushed around aimlessly.

Passing the boot section, the tall muck boots called me like sirens. Several good 16" waterproof neoprene-top boots grabbed at me, but the plethora of camouflage made me dizzy and I had to run away. 

Turkey calls taunted me down an aisle where two older teen boys fondled turkey decoys. The cries of those poor turkeys caused distress to my ears and I escaped down the next isle. A dozen trail/game cameras looked at me with their evil eyes. And I fled down the main isle.

A little joyful Mastiif-Pit Bull puppy on a leash climbed on my feet and rolled on its back, flailing its front legs and paws pleading for tummy rubs. Falling down on my knees, I found myself muttering gibberish puppy-talk and we whined together as I was inundated with puppy kisses. 

Then turning a corner, I was confronted by numerous kayaks with their openings gaping at me, teasing me with whispers of gliding over blue water and the slip-slap of oars, slipping by green trees and birds cheering me on. Oh, the temptation, dear Goddess!! How you torment me so!!!!

Pulling away in misery, intent on escaping intact, I heard the muttering of camp chairs on top of a shelf. They sat there in their glory, judging me, knowing that I was chairless. I scrutinized each of them as they stoically sat in silence. Reaching up I pulled one down to stand on the floor. And I sat in its lap. 

Not satisfied, I pulled another down. And sat in that one's lap. Still not happy, the third chair came down, placed next to the others. After I sat in that chair's lap, I stood in front of all three. 

And pointed at one. The other chairs muttered about something called 'Goldilocks' while I helped them back to their shelf. And the giant carved wooden bear 25 feet behind me quietly snickered. 

Hurumph. I stuffed that chair in a bag and slung it over my shoulder and pushed through the menacing and salivating humanoids crowding the aisles and made my getaway. 

Through the parking lot I carried my trophy feeling satisfied that no wallets or bank accounts were injured.
posted by Macrobe
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4.16.2016,10:59 AM
Strawmen. Please go cack to your caves.
Pet Peeve: Strawman  arguments. 

The one I hear and read most is a parroting of this: people protesting or opposing anything related to  industrial energy, especially any coal, gas, or oil extractions and/or related utility industry, should immediately and completely denounce everything associated and related with those resources. 

e.g. Wearing textiles or fabrics derived from or produced using these energy sources, driving or riding in any vehicle using any of these as a fuel source, using any form of electricity, owning and using anything made of plastic, commercial food, etc.

This is a strawman argument meant to bully, creating an illusion of having completely refuted or defeated an opponent's proposition by covertly replacing it with a different proposition. It does not at all consider the complexity of the issues, does not attempt to examine solutions. Instead it is more a self-justified and often selfs-righteous battle and the defeat of the enemy is often more valued than critical thinking or understanding both sides of the issue.

It is the typical binary judgement demonstrating black-and-white superficiality and is often boasted about like peacock feathers and pounding on chests.

For those that use this often, we now know you are ignorant. Please return to your cave.
posted by Macrobe
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4.03.2016,1:24 PM
We are all in this together
My exponentially great grandfather was a Neanderthal. 
My exponentially exponential grandmother was a bacteria. 
I share tiny bits of DNA with ancient viruses. 
The water in my blood came from dinosaurs. 
The calcium in my bones came from stardust. 
And the oxygen I just breathed in came from an ancient plant.

I embrace diversity and connections. We are all parts of each other; animal, microbe, rock, and stars.

That is the Tao.
Embrace it.
posted by Macrobe
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3.19.2016,7:43 PM
The Wild Within
“Be wild; that is how to clear the river. The river does not flow in polluted, we manage that. The river does not dry up, we block it. If we want to allow it its freedom, we have to allow our ideational lives to be let loose, to stream, letting anything come, initially censoring nothing. That is creative life. It is made up of divine paradox. To create one must be willing to be stone stupid, to sit upon a throne on top of a jackass and spill rubies from one’s mouth. Then the river will flow, then we can stand in the stream of it raining down.”
― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With The Wolves: Contacting the Power of the Wild Woman

posted by Macrobe
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3.08.2016,5:51 PM
The ghosts in music
Driving in the rain with a black and blue sky, listening to music I have not for nearly 15 years. The music unlocked a box from which a myriad of memories and emotions swirled around me and carried me back.

It was like hovering over myself, listening to a silent train of thoughts, that years later are bitter sweet. Looking back while waiting for the future to unfold. Then hurtling forward, reliving and experiencing almost a decade and a half. And realizing how much has changed. 

Some ghosts in the closet are set free, one discarded in the trash, and a very few special ones hung on the door handle to freshen and renew.

All the while, the voice and the music still resonate, like the twinkling stars of Orion's belt in the sky. It reaffirms where I was and where I am now. A few of those ghosts I still hold close to my heart, where I can still feel the synchronized beating through the closed door.
posted by Macrobe
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1.15.2016,9:22 PM
Music is in me
On my day off.
If I'm not on a mountain top,
In a canyon,
On a trail.......
I listen to music.
Humanity's crowning achievement.

Music is a language
That knows no borders,
No colors,
No grammar, 
No rules, 
No politics.

The river is music, the bird's songs,
The coyote yips, the elephant's trumpet.
For humans,
Music is our hearts, our passions, our joy,
Our anger, our sorrow, our grief, 
It is the essence of who we are
It is our past, present, and future.

Our music is the drum, the pipe, the strings,
Our thumbs on the wood, 
the whistle through our lips, 
Hands slapping thighs,
Our feet on the floor.
It is our voice. 
Together, and alone.

Music is a tether to our very being
That touches every one of us.
Inside and out.

Some times on my days off,

I let it speak for me.
posted by Macrobe
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12.31.2015,9:55 PM
Years ahead, years behind
As I strolled home tonight in the dark, the whispering wind guided me. It rolled forward and back like the tides of a dry invisible ocean, soothing and calm as a baby rocking in its arms. The cold air was refreshing after an enjoyable dinner with a dozen friends, heat from the stove and food making me sleepy.

In the silence between the ebbing wind, the Milky Way caught my attention. A river of tiny lights in a universe of the unknown. Perhaps that is what makes it so magical and capturing. No birds called out; their heads tucked under their wings for the cold night. No people milling about; most inside with their merriment and libations. Only the wind, the stars, and I. And memories of past years.

Three stars in a line caught my attention and spoke to me. With a smile I remembered who this was. He is there in the sky wherever I go. "Look for the three stars in a diagonal line," I once said. "Once you see them, you will hear my voice speaking to you."

Orion was more than the hunter. He was the messenger. Many years ago.... Was it that long ago? Seven, eight years? When you looked at Orion, you knew he carried his message, too. I knew that when you looked at Orion, I had already spoken to him, standing on the gravel in front of my house in the night and talking to the stars. I knew because you told me once, that he carried a message to you.

And here I am, many years later, looking up at that belt of stars and hearing that message again. It's been so many years. But I still remember as the flood of decades and chapters of life fly by in a few moments of memories, Orion's voice is still strong. I still remember. And Orion will always remind me. No matter where I am. No matter where you are.

After all these years, those stars still whisper your name. Do you hear it, too, my friend?

posted by Macrobe
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