I was standing on the side of the road with a baby under one arm, ’shooting at rabbits’. This is a time that gives way to reflection for many of us. I was reflecting upon the slight differences between the cultures of California and the outer boondocks of northern Thailand. I was also mildly curious as to where the jeep had wandered off to. Not seriously concerned, but idly wondering.

Perhaps I should start at the beginning. We encountered a woman with a baby standing on the side of the road, trying to catch a ride. From what I was able to glean, the baby’s mother had decided to give birth to an appendix and the baby was handed over to a relative in the city. But the relative had got called to go in to work and had given the baby to a friend to take care of. In turn, this friend had given the baby to a woman who was going near to the baby’s mothers village where she would deliver it to relatives of the kid. At any rate, that was the story as I put it together over the half hour of explanations. Explanations that became increasing hard to hear as we had just fixed the jeep.

Right. Fixed the jeep. Fixing the jeep meant summoning the powers of the universe into a divine enclave something along the lines of the writers of a television sit com. Something else would have to break. That was the absolute order of things and the entire universe would get out of balance if it didn’t happen.

And so, right after we got off the paved roads the jeep started sounding a little nosier. As I grabbed 4 wheel drive to scale a series of cliffs, the inevitable ‘next thing to go fut’ made itself much more evident. I had been thinking about replacing the exhaust pipes ever since I got the jeep. I use the words exhaust pipes in the loosest possible sense. A series of pieces of plumbing scarred by countless welds, twists, tweaks and turns would better describe. As we topped a rise the morning sun revealed another describe. The shadow the jeep casts with its two massive mirrors resembles a mouse according to my wife. She then named the critter the diesel powered mouse. That seemed extremely appropo to me at that moment. Whereas your average vehicle makes some pretty horrible noises sans muffler, that is hospital zone whispers in comparison to an industrial diesel snorting its way up an assortment of 10 to 20 degree grades.

As we approached another village we had an ever growing agenda. The baby had a load in its shorts that was close to bluging down to its ankles and making it decidedly bottom heavy. I was reminded of those ‘weeble’ toys. We could probably have stood the baby on the floor of the jeep and he would have just rocked and swayed in place. Unfortunately, I was not similarly equipped and over the past hour my desperation to find a convenient tree was growing. As we the strange woman in the vehicle propriety demanded certain dues which left me with my eyes turning yellow. We also had to stop and ask for directions, as well as working something out to refill the bay’s tank.

I stopped on the road just outside of the village. The ladies left  the snotdragon, as I had named the juicy little tyke, in the jeep while they went to make inquiries. A number of thoughts passed through what functional parts that remained of my brain. I saw an elderly farmer ’shooting rabbits’, the local euphemism for relieving oneself on the side of the road, and decided to join him. As the jeep was hot from pulling the several thousand feet of mountains I didn’t wish to shut it down and have it barf out the radiator water. Unfortunately it had no parking brake and the only way to keep it from wandering off on it’s own was to shut the engine down and leave it in gear. But the grade we were on was a gentle slope which terminated in a vast open area in the center of the village. I had played this buffet before and knew exactly how fast and far the jeep would go. Not wanting to take any chances I grabbed the baby and stuffed it under my arm as I went to answer the calls of nature.

I exchanged pleasantries with the farmer then wandered off in the direction the jeep had gone. The driverless vehicle hadn’t caused all that much of a commotion as far as I could tell, and, contrary to what would be expected in Middletown USA, it only made people chuckle as they strolled out of its way. As I caught up with it I idle wondered how the ladies were doing with getting directions. This was the worst and commonest nightmare of wandering the outer boondocks. We once were given the ultimate direction of ‘turn left after the big tree’ while in a forest surrounded by several thousand big trees and rutted dirt side road every few hundred feet. This was another cultural difference. In USA blood pressure would start climbing as desperation started setting in around hour four or five of being completely lost while in these parts the next wrong turn only adds to the mounting humor of the situation. No reason to be concerned, we almost always find our way out before nightfall.

The ladies returned after a few minutes and I enjoyed a few more cultural differences. They had found a friendly household that had a hose. Just get the diaper off then sit the baby down on that flat rock and hose it off. They also hosed out and washed the diaper then exchanged it for a clean one from a woman who had been called to that house and us by coconut wireless. She was packing her own baby which she surrendered to us to watch while she nonchalantly dug out a boob and topped up our baby’s tank. Try finding that kind of service at your local gas station and convenience store.

The rest of the journey out was a bit anti climatic. We found the village with only three wrong turns and no more than an hour and a half of back tracking. The scenario of us bringing the long lost child home to its family was quite typical. An, ‘Oh, you got that kid I see’ reaction. Finally a girl of about 12 came out of a house and matter of factly relieved us of our charge and that was that. All that was left was to deliver the baby sitting woman to her own village a little distance off. A little distance being that village we can see, right over there in that valley, but never mind, she will walk. By road it would take over two hours.

And so all we had left to do was get the great thundering bellow monster down into the city and to a muffler shop. The entire exhaust pipe assembly had by then come completely loose and was dangling and dragging on the ground. I solved that issue by attaching our tow cable (push rope) to the remaining bits of pipe and a sturdy tree and ripping the entire mess out from under the vehicle. We made a few friends doing that, leaving a farmer couple and their kids in hysterics. We also left them with the remains of the exhaust pipes. I figured by the time we got out of the mountains they would have incorporated it into their irrigation system.

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Zyas ]]> http://www.wistfulvistas.com/reviews/website-review/uncensored-search-engines/feed/ http://www.wistfulvistas.com/reviews/poetry/initiate-by-cm-joserlin-raven/ http://www.wistfulvistas.com/reviews/poetry/initiate-by-cm-joserlin-raven/#comments Tue, 15 Sep 2009 18:16:30 +0000 cleggy http://www.wistfulvistas.com/reviews/poetry/initiate-by-cm-joserlin-raven/ (Copyright 1984, C.M. Joserlin, “Raven”)

I have seen the sun at midnight, slain the bull at his command,
Used the power of the crystal, felt the force direct my hand,
Thricefold served the silver lady, sailed upon the darkest sea,
Counted corpses in the forest, chanted runes upon the tree;
I have spoken words of power, summoned Hiram from the grave,
Sung Eurydice to ransom, called ‘Phrodite from the wave;
I’ve recited rhymes to order, chimes that echoed in the brain,
That incited love and joy — or hate and sorrow, fear and pain;
I have built the greater temple and survived the tests inside,
I have stepped on earth and water and been pierced in feet and side,
I have danced around the fire, walked the circle semi-clad,
I have chased the beasts and shared the feasts of bread and wine we had;
I have travelled to the hidden centers, studied in their lore,
Listened to the quiet murmurs and looked deep into the core,
Bound strong servants to their duties, striven long within the craft,
Drawn the dirk and done the work while being warded fore and aft;
‘Till the flower opened to me, and I learned the secret ways,
Found the stone and on me shone the black and white and ruddy rays,
Saw with many-colored vision and through many changes passed,
Let myself become myself, and reached my mastery at last.

Enjoy “Initiate”, which echoes the “I have beens” of Welsh bards in a pied conflation of the various initiatory traditions and legends, e.g. both Jesus and Odin were hung “upon a tree”, both Jesus and Llew Llaw Gyffes “stepped on earth and water and were pierced”, both Mithraists and Egyptians ritually slew bulls, both alchemists and Freemasons speak of “the Work”, both the Battle of the Trees and the Grove of Nemi left “corpses in the forest”. The opening phrase, “I have seen the sun at midnight”, was a pass-phrase of the Eleusinian Mysteries. So Celtic is only one of the ethnicities mingled; but then, how many Welsh “I have been” references were Biblical (i.e. Hebrew)? See Robert Graves’ THE WHITE GODDESS and Sir James Frazer’s THE GOLDEN BOUGH.

I just sprayed inside the house with 10% sodium hypochlorite as Yunee is allergic to the various molds that grow around here. Outside I very selectively sprayed Round-Up<TM> in my ongoing efforts to kill off the mulberry tree roots. SAY! Maybe you could ask Johnny for me. How long will the roots of the mulberry continue to sprout shoots after the parent tree has died? How long can this thing go without photosynthesis?
By the way, don’t get glyphosate anywhere near poinsettias. I simply sprayed near it very carefully and it slowly curled up and died over a 1 month period.

Our garden is slowly … getting weird. I guess this is good. Our general plan is to fill the entire place chock full of tropical foliage, ignoring the fact that as Tarzan hacked his way through the undergrowth, said undergrowth is the ideal habitat for billions of mosquitoes and leeches. I heard a chain saw across the river the other day and went over to check it out. A couple of guys were sort of stealing the decorative trees planted in a now defunct housing project. They were a bit nervous, thinking I might call the village headman. Instead I chatted it up then talked them into digging me up four lovely baby trees and planting them in our yard. They have thick glossy dark leaves like a magnolia but are about a foot long. The guys wanted 200 baht for the job but they discovered that the trees root balls were massive and even as babies they weighed a ton. So I paid them 500.

Baby is presently getting the engine kill cable replaced. It broke and forced me to open the engine and move the level manually, or try killing it by putting my hand over the air intake and risk getting sucked in.

Yunee is very weird. She casually picks up a gigantic wolf or huntsman spider but goes berserk upon seeing a caterpillar or leech.
Out in the jeep we were showing a couple of tourists from America the local sights of Chiang Mai. As I drove down a highway Yunee mentioned it being a large one. She has a penchant for non-sequitur speech and leaving out details. As I asked, one of the ladies in the back did the typical to wit, “EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWW!!!!” while the other gave an “EEEP” noise. Coming in from on the roof was a pretty hefty sparrassid (Huntsman spider). I was a tad busy trying to survive heavy traffic and over the inanity I asked if it had only six legs. We had a maimed visitor in our car port the past few nights and I was curious.

Yunee confirmed it was the extremity challenged one in question and began giving me a commentary as to it’s perambulations around the jeep with an ongoing background noise from the arachnophobes in back. It wandered about aimlessly for a bit before stopping on the front roll cage bar and appeared to be staring out the front window. I often wonder what spider vision is like. What could this fellow be looking at? What of the passing scenery was being handed to it’s brain?

It began wandering again, this time over to my side of the jeep. It wandered along some bracing to the main roll bar, came down the shoulder belt and perched on the head rest. From the sounds they were making the gals in back seemed to be giving serious thought to jumping out of a car going nearly 50 miles an hour rather than remain in the company of this terribly deadly vip… err, spider.

It then moved on down to perch on my right shoulder. The freak out from behind was predictable while Yunee started cracking up laughing. She informed the ladies that it won’t poop much. I caught on and got to laughing as well. Only two days earlier I had hosted a friends cockatoo on that shoulder and was loaded up with enough manure to start a sizable vegetable patch.

Not liking all my arm moving the pidey headed back up to the roll cage. It wandered about for a few more minutes just to make sure it had extracted the full freak out from the rear then went out and down the side of the jeep. Yunee was a bit freaked about that. It was in danger of getting blown off yet she knew if she tried to cajole it back into the jeep it would probably jump off. It eventually crawled under the jeep and vanished. At our next stop our guests seriously considered doing the same. Vanishing that is.

From: Thailand Escape

I am slowly getting around to rewiring the jeep. After 45 years of half assing and splicing the wires it is a serious rats nest. What is slowing me down is the cost of copper wire here which is ridiculously expensive, and finding super solid reliable connectors so I don’t have the same problem you had with your van’s computer cable. I am considering soldering pig tails to all the plug on connections which report to heavy duty screw or bolt connectors.
I am also going to move all the guages up onto the bar above the windshield. What with jeeps being a tad odd configuration wise, it requires the driver to only move his/her eyes up 6 inches to see the gauges as opposed to where they presently are where you have to look down and to the right 2 feet. And I have a few innovations I still need to impliment on the jeep. One problem is the combination of the diesel engines braking ability and the new tremendously overpowered disc brakes, I can stop the vehicle without ever applying enough pedal pressure to activate the hydraulic brake switch. Thus I am searching for a vacuum switch that activates whenever the engine drops to an idle. In other words, whenever my foot isn’t on the throttle the brake lights come on. All in all, we are quite happy with the jeep. Taking everything into consideration, it’s carbon footprint is almost nonexistent, it is recycled many times over, it is economical, and it is around 1000% beyond the life expectancy of any new vehicle made today.

Visit: Thailand Escape

The Atheist’s Key to Salvation

By K.T.

On the front table in many book stores are featured two books with a rather similar theme: The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins and God Is Not Great by Christopher Hitchens, both of which refute the claim that there is any logical foundation for belief in the God of scripture. They are very well conceived and constructed and their Oxford eloquence endows the message with an undeniable but possibly undeserved credibility.

In these works, the trappings of institutional theism are mercilessly dissected — the improbable mythologies of births, deaths, and miracles, the directives regarding sex, procreation, genital mutilation, prayer, vicarious redemption, and the worship of variously defined and described gods are all subjected to the most relentless vituperation.

In a controversy the instant we feel anger we have already ceased striving for the truth, and have begun striving for ourselves.

– The Buddha

It may be possible however, using these same arguments and perspectives, to justify to some degree the basic tenets of the major religions and even to make way for the possibility of the existence of a god of sorts. Our problem is that, as human beings, we have the utmost difficulty seeing the cosmos, our earth, our existence, our concept of god, in anything but the severely tainted and very imperfect light of human perception.

Hitchens clearly illustrates the fact that the God of the Abrahamic religions is purely a product of human invention, who differs little in his attributes — compassion, jealousy, peevishness, caprice, etc. — from the monarchs and tribal leaders familiar to people of the time. While we may see quite clearly how anthropic perspectives have distorted the nature of existence and natural phenomena into shapes compatible with human understanding, it is perhaps much more difficult to see how that same flawed human perspective may be coloring our perception of evolution and intelligence, leading us into the hubris of assuming ourselves to be the pinnacle of evolution and some supreme being to exist which is unaccountably very like ourselves.

Understandably, man considers himself to be the most highly evolved species, as no other life form has achieved a commensurate level of “intelligence”. Of course that intelligence is evaluated and measured using the only yardstick at our disposal, namely, human intelligence. That humans demonstrate human intelligence in a higher degree than do other species is hardly to be wondered at, but what other criteria might we use to assess the current human state of evolution relative to that of other entities? One possible measure might be species viability — How well are we Darwinistically adapted for survival? Is the presence of humanity on earth likely to endure? Is man likely to make a significant contribution in a broader sense to the history of life on earth?

Certainly human mentation has provided us with vast and wondrous capabilities: language, technology, art, and the ability to share and store acquired knowledge. With the possible exception of the viral and microbial worlds, man has achieved a position of dominance over other life forms and produced a burgeoning human population, but does this necessarily translate into long-term species viability?

Man’s history is a short one — perhaps a couple of hundred thousand years –- a mere blink of the cosmic eye, and much of that time he has probably spent as a numerically insignificant population generally being the hunted more commonly than the hunter. We don’t usually take duration into perspective when judging the remarkable but ultimately evanescent achievements of man. Is it possible that our concept of man’s intelligence and achievements, when seen in a more universal perspective, is just as anthropomorphically skewed as is our concept of God?

Viewed as a naturalistic phenomenon, the current dominance of humanity on earth can easily be identified as an infestation, a plague — a perfectly common occurrence in nature, but not one that can be sustained indefinitely. While man does not have a long history, it is possible that his future will be even shorter though not, perhaps, through predation. Be it a thermonuclear or a climatic cataclysm by which our planet is deprived of its knife-edged equilibrium of human habitability, it is likely that our species and many others may rapidly cease to be, as a direct result of man’s intervention. Unfortunately, the eschatological beliefs of some religions which inspire their followers to expect, embrace, and even relish the end of days, certainly do not improve our likelihood of long term species viability. Hitchens cites the very real danger of the concomitance of messianic ideology and apocalyptic weaponry — and it does undeniably sound like a really bad move to permit those who believe in a rapturous blissful end to humanity to acquire the means of bringing it about. Theological aberrations aside, in evolutionary terms, perhaps the awakening of mind could be seen as a briefly fruitful success, which then turns out to be a dismal failure and an evolutionary dead end with man causing his own demise, while other phyla and and vertebrate classes pre-dating us by many millions of years may long outlive us.

Set forth to watch, unschooled, alone
‘Twixt hostile earth and sky
The mottled lizard ‘neath the stone
Is wiser here than I.
— Kipling

Are we likely to succeed in playing more than a transient role in the evolution of life on earth? Is it possible for cognition to develop to a high degree without bringing about its own destruction? What attribute might be required for a noetic, self-conscious species to survive?

Perhaps the answer is “compassion.” Perhaps self-conscious, sentient, technology-capable beings who do not place their own selfish desires above the welfare of their fellows, their ecosystems, other species, the earth itself, could sustain a viability which our own species appears to be lacking.

Though often severely distorted and occluded by ritual, tradition, and mythology, “compassion” nonetheless underlies nearly all religious traditions. Some initial teacher or teachers presented some very fine ideas, which, often much later, were recorded, monetized, institutionalized, commercialized, monopolized, into unrecognizable forms. It would be a pity to abandon that core of universal empathy, however sullied it may have become by sectarian agendas, or however many people, cultures, and species have been eradicated as a result of rancor among adherents to differing flavors of piety.

Though it may have been done a devastating disservice by institutionalized theology, compassion — that common thread, the inchoate spark that ignites religion — could well be the key to man’s evolutionary salvation.

We exist and function within a self-adjusting environment, a collage of ecosystems which seek balance and viability according to some set of laws, of which mutation and natural selection are presumably at least a subset. Who is to say that this environment itself is not an intelligence? After all, it did produce man -– and (having learnt its lesson from that catastrophe) may go on to create other sublimely beautiful beings and thinkers of another sort, perhaps even some compassionate enough to avoid self-destruction.

Is it wrong to think of such a creator as a god even though it does not fit the criteria of intelligence and self-consciousness attributed to the God which man has created in his own image? Does our inability to imagine anything but an anthropomorphic God cause us to miss or misinterpret the obvious divinity of existence?

My atheism, like that of Spinoza, is true piety towards the universe and denies only gods fashioned by men in their own image, to be servants of their human interests. — George Santayana

Just as we are not competent to concoct a deity based on our own limited and idiosyncratic intellect and perspective, we are perhaps equally unqualified to define what intelligence is, and indeed, what a god is, confined as we are behind the glass of human experience and cognition. Of course, whether or not one chooses to believe in, or recognize the existence of an impersonal pantheistic divinity is of no great consequence once the jealous petulant personal God of scripture has been abandoned.

Perhaps there is a god. Certainly there is justification for compassion, and to the extent that religion promotes compassion, there may even be a justification for religion. The question is simply: Is it possible for technologically-mature man to acquire the compassion and circumspection necessary to regulate his selfish narcissistic and megalomaniacal tendencies without the institution of a belief system which promises punishments and rewards? The jury is still out on whether this is possible with or without religious establishment.

Religious doctrines dealing with sin, atonement, and particularly, formal absolution may have little to offer, and might well discredit, in the eyes of some, the underlying concepts of compassion, altruism, and nobility themselves. But there does nonetheless seem to be a perennially recognized value to these qualities. From the Buddhist path to happiness to the Epicurean bases of pleasure, there is evident a universal recognition of the fact that selfishness, hatred, attachment, excess are all extremely deleterious to those who harbor and foster those qualities.

Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.

– The Buddha

Whether viewed in terms of the immediate cause and effect of one’s actions on one’s health and state of mind, the long term cause and effect of karma over many lives, or the impact of our actions upon our ecosystem and fellow species, there does seem to exist a tangible and ineluctable principle of action and reaction, a justification for empathy which has no need for a mythology, ritual, tradition, or any kind of theological endorsement, though it has certainly inspired many of these. Compassion may be the salvation of the individual as well as that of our species and perhaps our earth.

Hitchens and Dawkins have given us many things to think about, but it is not clear whether vicious deprecation of the religious process will improve or erode man’s well-being or the likelihood of his continued existence. We can but hope that, together with technology, man will acquire the circumspection and sagacity requisite to ensuring his continued survival.

Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumored by many. Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.

– The Buddha

Prof. Gates’ contention that he was being suspected of wrongdoing and singled out for his race is eclipsed by another, perhaps more exigent and to many, more poignant aspect of this case:  Prof. Gates expected and eventually received preferential treatment with charges dropped, not by virtue of his innocence but simply because he was influential.

Professor Gates is quoted (See the Henry Louis Gates police arrest report) as saying repeatedly to the officer “You don’t know who you’re dealing with” — not a defence or explanation based on his innocence, but a warning of reprisal and repercussion, a plea  that he should be treated with respect because of his exalted status and ability to bring legal pressure and media attention to bear.

This incident will certainly have some residual effect on law enforcement policy, but that effect will be of no significant value to minorities or indeed to most of us.  An innocent person of any color but without connections and influence is no safer as  a result of this precedent than before.  There is no doubt, however, that police in Cambridge and elsewhere are likely to detain individuals on charges of disorderly conduct (verbal abuse) only if the suspects are lacking resources and connections which might later be cause for embarrassment.

Frida and Benny

So rarely is the ending of a relationship so gracious that it deserves celebration. It is a time of pain, sometimes mingled with doubt, inevitability, resentment, and so many other emotions which do not lend themselves to a celebratory conclusion and certainly rarely inspire one to immortalize it in verse or song. This is why it is so remarkable to see and experience a song that does so with such maturity, grace, and optimism as the one ABBA has given us in When All Is Said and Done. It is not just a brilliant song, it is the ultimate tribute to love, the relationship, the participants, and their affection that they could make that culmination into such a masterpiece. It is indeed a dedication of far greater significance than any number of blindly optimistic marriage songs and vows — to be able to exult in the inevitable and timely conclusion to a love which, not only the participants, but much of the world has followed and appreciated. It is a gift to us all.

All of these brilliant elements are present:

The toast:

Here's to usone more toast

and then we'll pay the bill

The autumnal migratory metaphor:

deep insideboth of us

can feel the autumn chill

birds of passage

you and me

we fly instinctively

when the summer's over

and the dark clouds hide the sun

neither you nor I'm to blame

when all is said and done

The ever repeated effort to salvage the relationship:

It's so strangewhen you're down

and lying on the floor

how you rise

shake your head

get up and ask for more

The inevitability, the decision:

clear-headed and open-eyedwith nothing left untried

The memories, the appreciation. No blame nor resentment:

thanks for all your generous loveand thanks for all the fun

neither you nor I'm to blame

when all is said and done

The decision made, the leisurely departure:

standing calmly at the crossroadsno desire to run

there's no hurry any more

when all is said and done

The optimism and the future:

slightly wornbut dignified

and not too old for sex

we're still striving for the sky

When All Is Said and Done was written at the time of the breakup of Benny and Frida, after the breakup of Björn and Agnetha, and all four took part.

Listening to this song and ABBA interviews, particularly the Swedish ones, recalls many emotions. I was going through a breakup from my Swedish wife at that same time this was written, similarly gracious, appreciative, and inevitable, but in the midst of that trauma, I could no more have written and sung about it than swum to the moon. Therein lies the creative and dedicated genius and the legacy of the ABBA four.

Watch When All Is Said and Done on youtube.

With thanks to ABBA, and grateful for the generous love, fun, and also for the divorce, this is to you Lena, wherever you are.

Lena