Equinox 2019 - The Balance

I'm mostly ignorant of the solstice and equinox mysteries and rituals through the millennia. I haven't even watched the sun rise on Stonehenge, the most famous and popular of the prehistoric stone circles, though I have, on ordinary days, stood in the middle of a few in Ireland that were maybe three or four thousand years old and I am known to burn a candle in the dark of a solstice eve.

View from here - Autumn Equinox 2019

Today I read up on the difference between the meteorological and astronomical beginnings of the seasons. According to the meteorological calculation, each season always begins on the same calendar day. For example, in the northern hemisphere, autumn always begins on September 1.

OTOH, the astronomical calculation marks the beginning of the seasons by the relationship of the earth to the sun. There are spring and fall equinoxes (equal night/day) and the winter and summer solstices (longest/shortest night/day).

So today, 23 September at 07:50 UTC, the sun was directly over earth's equator. In the northern hemisphere this is the astronomical autumn equinox and beginning of Fall. In my current time zone that means the moment when light/dark were equal the world over occurred at 12:50 AM PST. I was asleep.

So . . . Happy Equinox 2019. Enjoy the balance. Let go. Rest a moment as the gears change. Now spring begins in the Southern Hemisphere and Autumn here in the north.

Autumn Equinox and already
Alley's special morning sunny spot is not lasting as long.

Dear Aliens

If any of those supposed UFO sightings are real, seems it couldn't hurt to send send them this note:
 

Deal Aliens,

Please come and save us. We are not evil, just stupid, too stupid to not destroy our house and home and everything beautiful in it. Oh, and yeah, we're violent but mostly because we're so fucking stupid. A lot of us are trying to do better but we're feeble and inconsistent. I know we're just a speck and don't matter to anyone but ourselves but we'd appreciate a hand and will try to do better if we survive long enough to sort that out.

Hoping to hear from you soon. please read before it's too late.

Best regards,
An Earthling

August update

I mentioned earlier that this May I was diagnosed with cancer. It's a very rare type, myoepithelial carcinoma. Less than 600 cases have been reported since its discovery in 1972. MC usually occurs in a salivary gland but was on my kidney. The thing is, about 15 years ago I did have an enlarged salivary gland removed but, at the time, it was considered benign. Now we're not so sure. Most likely, the Nevada lab doing the biopsy had never heard of myoepithelial carcinoma.

Even this spring, after weeks of trying and being unable to determine exactly what it was, the Oregon lab had to send the kidney biopsy to a bigger, better equipped facility in Indiana for identification. In July, I had surgery at the Champalimaud in Portugal. An 8 cm (3.14 in) kidney tumor and a second smaller one on my neck were removed. Both were MC. At least for now there is nothing more to do. With MC, surgery is not generally followed with any other treatment though that may change as more becomes known about it. All I know at this point is that I'm tumor free. I'll be having initial follow-up tests in October to see what's up.

Note in a bottle

Hi world. What are you doing today? It's evening here where I am. I know. It's every time of day and night for you but where I am the sky is still blue and there are voices off in the distance and the sound of cars. Always the sound of cars. A vine is growing up the window screen. It's a beautiful thing to watch . . . strands winding around each other, their tips fragile and moist. I haven't got much else to say really.

Summer solistice 2019

In the southern hemisphere this is the shortest day of the year, the longest night, the pause, the time of in-going and renewal, the beginning of winter. Here in the northern hemisphere this is the longest day of the year, the beginning of summer, the dance, the lingering and going about. Wherever you are, whatever species you encounter as you go along your way today, be kind.

Unfortunately, the Summer Solstice is also the beginning of the 10 day Yulin dog meat "festival" during which thousands of dogs and cats are bludgeoned, blow-torched, skinned, and boiled alive for a 10 day drunken "feast".

Please help shut down the Yulin!

Sign the HSI petition and pass the link around. Thank you.

Can't See Me

Several years ago I went through a very bad time. I was living in the hills of West Virginia and would come into town now and then to open my then husband's tiny electronic repair shop. He was a whiz that way. When I got to town the first thing I'd do was buy a bag short dogs, sit in the alley beside the shop and drink a couple. Then I'd open the shop. I didn't go in very often but as I recall we never had any customers when I was there. I played a lot of country music real loud those days. It helped. Marshal Tucker's "Can't You See" was a special comfort. I'm listening to it tonight as I write this. I don't live in West Virginia anymore. I don't even live in America anymore but it's another bad time and that song is still a comfort. This coming week I start a round a tests to determine if I have cancer.

German cornflakes in Portugal

It's been 17 days since leaving Nevada. So much has gone on. This morning my breakfast is German cornflakes in Portugal, but to recap . . . before we left Nevada Penny (the) Robin came by. Nice to see her in the Bird Park one last time. Also I went to Comma Coffee one last time, the scene of several poetry reading with Ash Canyon Poets though, ultimately that scene dried up and I lost contact with them.

The morning we left I hosted a giant feast in the Bird Park. In true crow fashion, Minerva put out the word and news spread fast. Literally in minutes more crows showed up than ever dropped by one time, even in winter. And, of course, Maggie, her magpie friends, and all the other birds also attended but it was the crows who made the biggest splash. For a brief while they flooded the place. It was wonderful. Of course I took a lot of photos but most didn't record. I don't know what exactly I did wrong but something. My favorite, that didn't take, was of a crow who landed very close, probably Charlie or Minerva. I'm sure it was to say thank you and good-bye. Crows are, after all, known for their willingness to befriend individuals of other species and their sense of fair play.

No way to say goodbye

Packing, sorting, pruning and letting go of almost two decades of my life has been overwhelming but mostly it's done now and what's left tucked in boxes and ready to go. We move at the beginning of next week and then what? A new phase of my life? The last phase? I'm saying good-bye to friends. We assure one another we'll meet again but will we? Every door closes for the last time.

And then there are my beloved friends in the Bird Park. They made Nevada livable for me, even delightful . . . Maggie the 7 o'clock Magpie (7 o'clock because in the beginning she always came at 7 AM, before everyone else) and her tiding . . . the charmer Chatterbox Charlie along with beautiful Minerva and the rest of the crow congress . . . Plonk, his girlfriend, and the ensuing band of pigeons who followed them here . . . the bevy of doves with their screechy, forever melancholy call . . . the drifts of quail, generations now . . . the hilarious, head-banging quarrel of finches with their ridiculously comical, but oh yes, very serious fights . . . the tiny, mild-mannered sparrows . . . the flock of grackles with their most mellifluous song . . . Babette and Mr. Fancy Pants . . . the pool parties and dust baths . . . Old Man pigeon who came and stayed to spend his last days here and after whom we named the pile of torn out lawn turf where he rested Old Man Hills . . . Penny Robin who came for her apples so many springs, even this one . . . I will miss them all terribly but always and especially—Maggie.

Maggie and a bit of apple

There is no way I can tell them that I love them but I'm going anyway, no way to say goodbye other than remove the little white table where, every morning I've been here for the past seventeen years, they have come for breakfast. The Bird Park was a haven most of that time, until the hawks showed up. At least that part will also end.

Moving update

Today is the Equinox, the beginning of spring here in the northern hemisphere, autumn in the south. May we all enjoy, if only briefly, this moment when light and dark are in balance.

I'm finally on the downside of packing. We move at the end of the month. It feels like a death, but not just because we've been in Nevada for 17 years. It's something deeper. Sorting through the memories, stones, and mementos I've collected along the way . . . the skull of a horse I found near a dry water hole, a horse killed in a brawl with another, head kicked in, jaw broken in several places . . . a whole mummified eagle's body . . . the half-billion-year-old trilobites I found in the Great Basin left from when this now desert was a vast, warm inland sea under the equator . . . the night coyotes sniffed our feet as we lay naked on our makeshift bed in back of the truck . . . the petroglyph of a pony express stop carved in nearby stone sometime in the previous two centuries . . . this is not just the end of a chapter, it is the end of a journey that is now a time gone by.

April 14 we leave for Portugal to apply to their residence program. This, of course, if I get my passport back in time. I forgot to sign the renewal application. When I realized this and called they assured me I'll get the new one before April 14. We shall see.

In more soothing news, the magpies, crows, and starlings have devoured their breakfast and moved on with their day. The little birds and quail are strolling around nibbling seed. Even Jimmy the squirrel put in an appearance.

Empathetic Dog Reacts to Emotional Scene in The Lion King

RIP Word Jazz Guy

Ken Nordine died yesterday, Mr. Word Jazz. I found one of his albums when I was a schoolkid. Along with Kafka and Rimbaud, he made sense at a time when not much else did, the '50s. I loved the bizarre conversations he had with his inner self . . . just him . . . just them . . . echoing in the mind . . . twisting, echoing, changing . . . free in lateral space.  He/they were wonderful, true artists. Bon voyage, guys.

There comes a time . . .

When it's over, when the next change changes everything, we call it death. Short of that, the end is often only realized it hindsight. Not so with this one. In April I will begin the process of becoming a resident and, eventually, a Portuguese citizen

I am writing this in a room converted from an outside deck which will become my office/studio base in Oregon. Half the ceiling is curved glass that comes down nearly to the floor and comprises 2/3s of the long wall facing east. The surface of the remaining portion of that wall and its opposite, were formerly the outside of the house. Boxes of collectables, not mine, are stacked to my left, marked and ready to be moved to storage until they are sold. In the north, the figure of a contemplative sits in meditation. Wooden beads hang from his neck and drape over the table along with a second necklace, a Chinese prayer card with a long gold tassel. Behind him are four Chinese small reddish clay tea pots of varying shapes and sizes. All sit on a small deep red rug with an intricate design. They too will be packed, moved, and eventually sold.

I will miss my birds in the Bird Park. Maggie the Seven O'clock Magpie still looks for me. She knows I will always return. Last week, after being gone six months and back one day, I put some peanuts out and she showed up. I will miss her. I will always miss her, especially in the morning, and the others . . . beautiful Minerva the crow, the quail clan, the little birds, the spring robins coming for their apples, Plonk and the rest of the pigeons, charming chatterbox Charlie and the rest of the crow clan, but especially and always my Maggie.

Straigue Stone Fort 1700 years later

For years I stuck to a timeline, ever running to keep up with the present but that is changing. Perhaps traveling has helped move me off the stuck point. The past is ever with us, not only in memory and dream but effect and also quite physically. But enough rhapsodizing.

Me, Swami, and Juan Carlos
Staigue, Kerry, Ireland

Straigue stone fort in Co. Kerry Ireland was built during the late Iron Age making it about 1,700 years old. No adhesive of any kind has held it together for the last almost 2000 years. It still stands because it was built right and no hotshot developer has come in with a bulldozer to clear the land for yet another soulless shopping center, condo project, freeway etc.

Trump shutting down government

Shutting down government hoping to force America to pay for his wall be the first thing Donald Trump has ever claimed credit for that, in fact, he actually did.

As my world dissolves around me . . .

The family, dogs included, came over tonight for lasagna and a movie.Very nice evening. Thea is spending the night. M. Lee and I leave Wednesday for southern Oregon, a couple of weeks there and then back to Nevada to begin dismantling our world. Not exactly sure where this road is leading. What I do know is that it's time shed another layer along the way.

Winter Solstice 2018

It's the Winter Solstice toady and the full moon and there's a meteor shower. Much afoot in the heavens and here on earth. For me, it's a time to pause and reflect where I've been, where I am, and where I'm going. Happy new year and first day of winter.

Greta Thunberg addressing UN plenary session

You Are Stealing Our Future:
Fifteen-year-old Greta Thunberg Condemns the World’s Inaction on Climate Change

Here and gone

Our time in Europe is again coming to an end. I'm not complaining. August to mid-December is a good a run but other than family, which I am very much looking forward to seeing, there just isn't much else drawing me back to the U.S. these days. When Bush was President, I wrote a lot about him here but with Trump? What can I say? America has been hijacked by fascists. I love that the Dems took 40 seats in the mid-terms but it's just a start. This rot is deep but we will cut it out. That I trust.

“There are only a few notes. Just variations on a theme.” ― John Lennon   RIP 38 years

Why midnight?

Naples, Italy

Every night at midnight assholes in our neighborhood let off with a barrage of fireworks. Why? WTF? The first night I joked that it must be a cover for the Camorra but it's not funny anymore. Is it some religious celebration? What?! Come on. Fireworks are bullshit. Even the seagulls complain about them. OK. Finally they're done. G'night.

Blue bucket

Naples, Italy

Why take the stairs when you have a blue bucket? Daily life in an old world.

The old man in Évora

Évora, Portugal

"Where are you going
in such a hurry traveler"
Capela dos Ossos

One of the last things we did before leaving Portugal was visit Évora, a city that's been continuously occupied for more than 5,000 years. Neolithic tribes, Celts, Romans, Visigoths, and Moors all passed through Évora, some staying centuries before being swept away by war or the changing of the age. You might think with all the different rulers, cultures, identities, and religions that have come and gone, and Évora's 15th century Golden Age being long past, it would be an empty husk but no. Évora today is considered one of the most livable places in Portugal and, because it maintains the integrity of the past within its historic center, it is also listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Swami & Juan Carlos
Évora town square
under the waxing moon

We got there early and spent the day doing our usual slow crawl, me photographing everything—medieval byways, the cathedral, paintings, gargoyles, bell towers, most of the 5000 skeletons in the Capela dos Ossos (Bone Chapel), Roman ruins, and random other details along the way. We found a friendly vegetarian restaurant for lunch and at twilight, under a waxing moon, sat on a bench in the town square to people watch while waiting for our train. Just after dark, an elderly gentleman wearing a dark topcoat and carrying an umbrella hooked over his arm emerged from a covered walkway along the square's edge. At our bench, he stopped, turned and, with a pleasant smile, bowed slightly looking back and forth into our eyes then slowly, and very deliberately, wished us boa noite and smiled when we wished him boa noite in return. Then, still smiling, he nodded, turned and slowly moved on. This, above all, is what I will remember of Évora.

Nowhere people

Lisbon, Portugal

Who are you?

“Alice asked the Cheshire Cat, who was sitting in a tree, “What road do I take?”

The cat asked, “Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know,” Alice answered.

“Then,” said the cat, “it really doesn’t matter, does it?”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland 
 
For the last five weeks, and until yesterday, we stayed in a small flat on the top floor of a four story building near the top of one of Lisbon's many hills. Our flat was a comfortable place on a mostly quiet street with lots of light and a lovely view of the old city and from there we moled up and down through the narrow, twisting cobblestone streets looking for a neighborhood where we might like to live as we are planning to return next spring and establish residency. It's not that we want to live in Lisbon full time, or renounce our US citizenship, it's just that we are both, by nature, wanderers and Lisbon is a good place from which to wander. As a friend from London who is in Lisbon doing the same thing put it, "There are somewhere people and there are nowhere people. We are nowhere people."

A morning in November

Lisbon, Portugal

Morning from the balcony

Woke up today to a white fog sky, the barking of a small dog somewhere nearby, and the sound of a foghorn on the river.

Video clips of Trump inciting violence

 These clips in no way document "all the times" Trump has called for violence
but they are a good example of how flagrant his lies are so for the record . . .



Postdate note:
President Twat's endless distractions are his way of controlling the conversation. It's time to stop engaging.

Paris, France

"Art is never finished. Only abandoned."
- Leonardo Da Vinci

Following up on a post I did in August,

Dying Slave
Michelangelo - The Louvre

here are some photos I took of Michelangelo's slaves at the Louvre.

Rebellious Slave
Michelangelo - The Louvre

It was late in the day, the light was gloomy and the photos are too dark but, as the mood suits the grim subject matter, I posted them as is. Better photos here, if you're interested.

Rebellious Slave
Michelangelo - The Louvre

The work was commissioned by Pope Julius II in 1505 as part of a 16 figure series called Prisoners.

Rebellious Slave
Michelangelo - The Louvre

They were meant to adorn his free-standing, three-level tomb along with 20+ other larger-than-life figures, also to be done by Michelangelo.

Dying Slave
Michelangelo - The Louvre

Unfortunately for us all, the project was repeatedly scaled down over the years. Most of the work was never even begun although four other unfinished pieces in this same series are on exhibit at the Galleria dell'Accademia in Florence, Italy. 

Unfinished detail - Dying Slave
Michelangelo - The Louvre

Michelangelo believed that the figure is trapped within the stone and his job was to liberate it. Seeing them with that in mind, however "undone", they are all very moving.

Tomb of Pope Julius II
source: Web Gallery of Art

In spite of being repeatedly downsized, the Pope's tomb is still very grand. It includes Moses whom Michelangelo considered his most lifelike creation. As the story goes, upon its completion he struck the right knee commanding, "now speak!". There is a scar on the knee thought to be the mark of Michelangelo's hammer.

Beyond the Pale

Ireland, starting out - five weeks - 3000 miles

We came upon this spectacular work by Caravaggio in Dublin. Of course my photo in no way conveys its perfection. I leave this here as a note in the sand. Should you find yourself in Dublin, see it.

The Taking of Christ by Caravaggio
National Gallery of Ireland

After five days in Dublin, known in medieval times as The Pale, we rented a car and began this crazy, month long drive beyond The Pale.

Tiny Ireland is barely the size of the US state of Indiana
photo source: bleemo.com

I fell immediately under the spell of the emerald isle.

One of Ireland's 10 gazillion
such enchanted passageways

Our first base was south, in Kilkenny. It's about an hour and a half from Dublin on the main road but it took us all day . . .

because we drove the single lane back roads . . .

and stopped a lot along the way.

Centre for Peace and Reconciliation,
Glencree, Co. Wicklow, Ireland

Swami & Juan Carlos
loved the dark wood.

Graveyard in Glendalough
dating back to the 10th century

Grove in Glendalough

Medieval chapel in Glendalough

We also listened to a lot of music along the way including "I Dream a Highway" by Gillian Welch which proved to be almost too much.





Later M. Lee mentioned that during the drive he'd never felt so depressed in his entire life.

History Lesson for 300.000 Years

My poem History Lesson was recently accepted for inclusion in a one-of French/English publication titled 300K: une anthologie de poésie sur l'espèce humaine/a poetry anthology about the human race. It was a natural fit. Description of the publication below.

300K A Poetry Anthology about the Human Race / Une anthologie de poésie sur l'espèce humaine.

Our origins are not that well known though not totally obscure. Yet, recent discoveries in Morocco have pushed our ancestry from 200.000 years ago to over 300.000. Yes, we've been that long on Earth, and yet, this is a flea's leap compared to all the living and non-living things that were there before us, some of which still are, others we have more or less slowly but thoroughly wiped out or disfigured for the rest of time. You can also refer to Elizabeth Kolbert's The Sixth Extinction (especially its introduction) or Yuval Noah Harari's A Brief History of Humankind. Are we doomed? I am a pessimistic person and my own personal answer is yes. That's why I want to publish this anthology as a mark, a sign, a trace of our - yours and mine - passage on this planet. Think about petroglyphs, cave arts, artifacts, all the traces we have left here and there, all around the planet. Instead of chemicals, microscopic plastic particles, soda cans, gas jerrycans, used solar cells, full of silica, that no one knows how to recycle efficiently, smartphone parts, laptop bits and pieces... why not leave a book of poetry that will probably get lost in nothingness as many other books or objects before it, but that some descendants of the human race, or one of its creations (a mobile, self-conscious, artificial intelligence) or an alien civilization might stumble upon in, let's say, another 300.000 years; who knows?

300K is available here

Edinburgh - Queens and Guillotines

We're in Edinburgh for the week. Small as it is, this city holds some important pieces of the puzzle like Mary, Queen of Scots who ruled Scotland from 1542 to 1567.

Standing in her private supper chamber in the tower of the Palace of Holyroodhouse, Mary and her tragic reign became disturbingly real. One March evening in 1566 she was dining there with friends including David Rizzio, her private secretary, when her husband Lord Darnley suddenly entered the room, sat beside her and slipped his arm around her back. Then Lord Ruthven, dressed in full armor, entered and announced to the Queen that Rizzio had offended her honor and should come with him. Understanding the situation, Mary ordered Lord Ruthven to leave. The rest, as they say, is history. A screaming Rizzio was dragged into the larger adjoining chamber, stabbed 56 times and tossed down the stairs. His body was buried soon after in an unmarked grave.


By William Allan - Guildhall Art Gallery, Public Domain, Link
Knowing she was the real target of the conspiracy, the Queen skillfully persuaded 21-year-old Darnley to abandon his alliance with the Lords. To insure succession of the monarchy to her unborn child, she needed him at the birth to confirm the child was his. Two days after Rizzio's murder, they escaped the palace together through an underground passage. Nine days later, Mary re-entered the city accompanied by three to five thousand troops and moved into the fortress of Edinburgh Castle to prepare for the birth of her son. Her enemies fled to England, everyone that is, but Lord Darnley. He stayed in Edinburgh and, over the next few months, seemed close to reconciling with Mary but many cross-currents moved below the surface. Eleven months after Rizzio's murder, the lodge where he was staying exploded. Darnley didn't die in the explosion. He and his valet were found dead in the orchard. Both appeared to have been strangled to death. Two and a half months after Darnley's death the Queen married the Earl of Bothwell, the man accused and acquitted of Darnley's murder. However, the intrigue and power games did not end there. A year later the Queen was forced to abdicate her throne to her infant son and flee to England where she remained prisoner of her cousin Queen Elizabeth I until her beheading 20 years later.

The National Museum of Scotland held another crossroads of dusty history and bloody reality for it was there we met The Maiden, Edinburgh's guillotine. We were strolling around, looking at medieval and renaissance artifacts . . . armor, swords, coin hoards, skeletons, carvings and the like when we came upon The Maiden. It stood apart from the rest of the collection like a forlorn and naked wraith trapped in the light of day. It was real like nothing else in the museum and so terribly out time and place. Looking up at it I felt like I was being sucked into a treacherous undertow. But back to the history part.

The Maiden

Public beheadings were so frequent during Mary's reign that in 1563 the official executioner's sword had worn out, forcing the city to rent one. It was then that James Douglas, the 4th Earl of Morton, suggested the city purchase The Maiden. The city magistrates liked the idea and the guillotine became Edinburgh's new official means of decapitation.

More than 150 people were publicly executed on The Maiden between 1564 and 1710. It even played a part in the drama surrounding Mary, Queen of Scots. James Douglas, the 4th Earl of Morton, the man who introduced the guillotine to the city, was (falsely?) convicted of participating in Lord Darnley's murder. Of course he denied it all, "art and part", but was executed anyway on 2 June 1581. Such is the way when leaders enjoy absolute, unchecked power. Douglas's corpse remained on the scaffold until being buried the next day in an unmarked grave. His head however, as a lesson for all, remained on a spike outside St Giles Cathedral for eighteen months.

Holyroodhouse is the official residence of the British monarchs in Scotland and, by tradition, Queen Elizabeth II spends one week there every year in the spring.

Night brings the fox

 This morning I lamented I hadn't seen a fox in London . . .

Nearly transparent fox

 but this evening there he was

graceful as a cat

checking out the neighborhood for scraps and rats.

Obviously his mum taught him
to look both ways before crossing.

For me, of course, it was love at first sight
followed by a series of blurry photos.

My street. My night.

A quick stop to mark perhaps the neighbor cat's poo?

Into the night

Then off into the night . . .

London but no foxes but a cat

I'm still waiting to see a fox or four in the backyard. M. Lee saw a mom and three juveniles when he was here in the spring so it's only fair but, so far, no foxes for me. The only critters who have graced the backyard of this airbnb is one American squirrel who eats the rose hips and the next door cat who drops by to poop.

Unfinished pieces

Went to the Louvre today. My favorite pieces were two unfinished sculptures of slaves abandoned by Michelangelo, beautiful work but a grim topic for sure.

Toledo for daggers

We're now launched on a 5.5 month stay in Europe. For the first three weeks my daughter and her family will be with us. Last week we stayed at an airbnb in Madrid. From there are three World Heritage sites within an hour of the city by train so it's an excellent base. Never mind the temperature hovered around 105° the entire time, the hottest in the city's recorded history, we visited a thousand year-old castle, 800 year-old cathedrals, 2000 year-old Roman walls, roads, and shrines stuffed with saints bones and the skulls of long dead Catholic Cardinals however, the big event was visiting Fabrica Zamorano, the shop of Mariano Zamorano, master sword smith of Toledo.

For just under $1000, Clark bought four daggers,
gifts for his two daughters, his wife, and one for himself.

Now we're in good old London where it's about 40° cooler and raining.