When at the Pool

Ben's horroscope for the day says:

Eye on the floaties. She can't swim. Drown the tyke. Take a pin to the pool and you reign supreme.

Primavera Anticipada

I wanted to figure out how to embed a video into a blog. Et voila! I like this song. Don't judge me! You. You judger.

Courtesy of http://danaeconnors.bandcamp.com/

Yo Bro

Remember when you were telling me that this whole economic depression thing we're going through is engineered by the man? For those of you who weren't sucking from that bottle of whiskey, the story goes that the banker clique maintains control of the vast majority of wealth and means to success, allows the working class to build up the means of production and wealth for a while, and then after engineering a stock, debt, or income crisis lets us all fall down while they reap the dividend rewards of our interim success. We, the people, after a period of slipping and sliding, pick up, and keep on truckin'. We start again, to keep making money for the man, to reach a certain pinnacle, only to be let down again.

Okay, well this is a perspective. But what if it's true? But not the way you're thinking. Not in a negative way, in a necessary way.

Wasn't it not long ago that we were looking around us at all the opulence that became the American Dream? The cars and the McMansions and the wealth poured into things and events? Were we not convinced that these upper middle class men were just overpaid and overvalued, and really had nothing going for them above their mechanic, working class brothers than situational luck?

Perhaps the fall of these men is a necessity of a truly strong economy. Now look to the "poor" but unencumbered. Those who haven't spent beyond their means and acquired beyond necessity. These people didn't really take the tumble did they? Like the banker clique they aren't the ones who were overstretched and are now destroyed by the crumbling of a bubble. Once the working class picks back up, and the economy follows suit, these people will actually have stepped up a rung on the ladder. They didn't fall back, they didn't suffer, and in the end are rewarded for their long-term prudence.

Maybe what you're seeing truly is capital manipulation by a banker class but is also the actual operation of true capitalism: survival of the fittest even in engineered catastrophe.

We need another bottle of whiskey.

Photo courtesy of Ashley Parr

Mindfulness

While scooping the cat litter this morning I recalled a discussion I had a few days ago with a friend about 'cleaning up'. We mused how hyperactive, perfection-obsessed personalities can drive themselves bonkers trying to keep their world just so. It's not just a question of keeping things, tidy, clean or in their place, but an issue of making sure to keep up with everything. Every facet of life has it's ends clipped, every discussion is concluded, and every contact is content. Perfect little goals all bundled in a sack. What a joke.

Hence ... CRAZY! I mentioned to my friend that at one particular point in a whirlwind of frenzied activity trying to keep up with my life and the lives of everyone around me, I realized that if I could just let go of a few small things, life wouldn't be so overwhelming. I found that if I left a few dirty dishes in the sink, rather than cleaning every dish the moment it wanders out of the cupboard, not only does my house not become a hovel, but that when I do get to the dishes, I can do them once, quickly, and they're done. My friend decidedly agreed saying that if he could let his mind go of the dish, it would, as if by magic, get done anyway. It just wouldn't get washed by stress.

This is a pretty nifty trick of convincing the universe to do your dishes for you while you're off contemplating something else. But as I dropped cat shit on my feet, and came back to the reality of my litter, I remembered another lesson: to be mindful of what we're doing. Trying to tame the universe of life takes some skill, and it's a wild ride with many destinations. But for one, if we can focus on passages individually the whole voyage can be less overwhelming; and two, if we can take one path at a time, we're much more likely to enjoy the scenery.

This is all very novel of course. The discussion with my friend concluded as well that the truths we learned from our parents, that they learned from theirs and they, through the history of our society, become so much more true as we get older. All the important points, like being mindful, or doing unto others as you would have done unto you, become clearer and more tangible with age and experience. He wisely noted that as young people we don't have the scars to impress upon us how important these vague little notations we're given really are. It isn't until we actually have to suffer through our own existence, that the true commandments of life, the ones we've known since birth, take on shape and a true meaning.

Put that in your mind and poke it!

Stars

Last night I got a half moon in my face. I took Jake outside to pee and not only did I get a yellow stream in my vision zone but a big yellow half moon. And then I looked up and away. Before I knew it my big black dog had disappeared into the night and my eyes were dilated with the bright light of constellations. Don't look up if you ever expect to come back down. It's hard to look away from all those bright lights.

Didn't we used to look up all the time? Those stars are always there and we spend so little time appreciating them. I guess it's been cloudy lately. Yeah, it's been cloudy. That's my excuse. Cloudy. Outside I mean. Between me and those stars.

The Thing About Being a Horse

No, there's a thing about being healthy as a horse. I've never been a horse. But I'd try.

When you're healthy as a horse you don't get sick days. That is, you're never sick. Horses know this of course and have perfected the art of the cough. This is an outward sign of sickness that a horse affects to get out of work. We call these whinnies and neighs, but really they're just little signals that say "Nope, I can't pull that right now I'm ... ahem ... sick."

Healthy as a horse? No sick days. The sick days are down on paper but you never get to utilize them because you're a horse. You see where I'm going here. Today I'm shrugging. Or neighing. Or at least I called in and told my boss I'm hoarse. This work horse just became one of those pot-bellied Shetlands that stands around and eats all day. The kind with the really long tails. You know the ones.

The other thing about being a horse is that your friends think you're some sort of health nut. What with your long sinewy legs and your healthy horse rump. A horse can't order a salad without some red-head* nearby translating the act to be public commentary on the importance of eating healthy. "The body is a temple..." she says in a mocking tone. Is it? I don't know anything about it. I just like to eat foliage.


*Does not have to be a red-head. These red-heads show up in many colors. Chestnut or Palomino for example.