Putin's "off-ramp"

Some say we must protect putin's "pride" so he doesn't feel ashamed over his genocidal war in Ukraine. HA! He's already shamed himself beyond repair. He doesn't care. Nothing matters to him. He uses everyone and everything. Drive the son of a bitch back into the hole he crawled out of.

Here's a great article from Substack on the subject by Timothy Snyder : The folly of "off-ramps" When Ukraine wins the war, Putin will build his own" Check it out.

Spring Equinox 2022

Behold the Good Vibe Solar Collector. Even in the worst of times, there is always something to be grateful for. If I can do it so can you, and I'm doing it, so do it. If you can't come up with anything to grateful about, take all you want from the Good Vibe Solar Collector. It's free!

Collecting good Spring vibes for you for free!

 
PS. Happy Spring Equinox, 2020

Strange days

Strange days have found us.
Strange days have tracked us down.
They're going to destroy our casual joys.
(The Doors)

Russian warship go fuck yourself

Test coming

One of my friend Lawrence's favorite stories was how his martial arts teacher could shout TEST COMING and always manage to rattle the class and, even though we all knew what he was going to say, whenever Lawrence told the story, we'd also twitch and laugh nervously every time he told it. Turns out Lawrence's test was cancer. He stayed centered right to the end.

National Squirrel Appreciation day 🐿

Today, in honor of National Squirrel Appreciation Day 2022, Barney the Beast has prepared this lovely tribute. YAY SQUIRRELS EVERYWHERE! Treats for all . . . every day of the year!

Ok Barney! Take it away . . .

To whom it may concern

I'm here to learn, not teach. If I want it to be the way it was, I will never understand the way it is.

Gas prices

 The price of gas is the life of the planet.

Moving on

For now, this is my/our last day in Portugal. Tomorrow at 03h I will go to the airport for my flight to the US.

"Valeu a pena? Tudo vale a pena se a alma nao e pequena."
"Was it worth it? Everything is worth it if the soul is not small."
Fernando Pessoa, Portuguese poet

"I know not what tomorrow will bring."
He died the next day. 

Pen and pruning hook

They say "the pen is mightier than the sword". True, but not true enough. The pen is a sword, the sword which is sharpened only when I turn it on myself.

Gone are the adolescent dreams of the glory of a tragic death, gone fascination with battles fought, won or lost. The validation of success is a tattered flag limp in the wind's fury. There is no enduring victory, only quiet at the end of things.

They say "beat the swords into plowshares and pruning hooks". The pen is also a shovel and a pruning hook. Dig and uncover the truth of things, the truth within, truth with a small "t". That is the truth that matters. Prune the rest.

Sung - Conflict

 讼

Hexagram 6
Sung - Conflict

Changing lines
/Line Three
He stands on his integrity, no matter what ill winds may blast him. Stand or fall, in the end he will remain exactly who he is.

/Line Four
Realizing the very root of conflict lies within his own heart, he lays down his arms and resolves to accept the things he cannot change.

Phase One

Phase One” from Bring Now the Angels
by Dilruba Ahmed, 2020


For leaving the fridge open
last night, I forgive you.
For conjuring white curtains
instead of living your life.

For the seedlings that wilt, now,
in tiny pots, I forgive you.
For saying no first
but yes as an afterthought.

I forgive you for hideous visions
after childbirth, brought on by loss
of sleep. And when the baby woke
repeatedly, for your silent rebuke

in the dark, “What’s your beef?”
I forgive your letting vines
overtake the garden. For fearing
your own propensity to love.

For losing, again, your bag
en route from San Francisco;
for the equally heedless drive back
on the caffeine-fueled return.

I forgive you for leaving
windows open in rain
and soaking library books
again. For putting forth

only revisions of yourself,
with punctuation worked over,
instead of the disordered truth,
I forgive you. For singing mostly

when the shower drowns
your voice. For so admiring
the drummer you failed to hear
the drum. In forgotten tin cans,

may forgiveness gather. Pooling
in gutters. Gushing from pipes.
A great steady rain of olives
from branches, relieved

of cruelty and petty meanness.
With it, a flurry of wings, thirteen
gray pigeons. Ointment reserved
for healers and prophets. I forgive you.

I forgive you. For feeling awkward
and nervous without reason.
For bearing Keats’s empty vessel
with such calm you worried

you had, perhaps, no moral
center at all. For treating your mother
with contempt when she deserved
compassion. I forgive you. I forgive

you. I forgive you. For growing
a capacity for love that is great
but matched only, perhaps,
by your loneliness. For being unable

to forgive yourself first so you
could then forgive others and
at last find a way to become
the love that you want in this world.

 

Night bird

Note to self
There is a bird here on Portugal's Atlantic coast I only hear sing as midnight approaches. I love the song. I picked the song for a phone notification before I ever heard it in the wild. Hearing it at night like this is one thing I will really miss when we leave here, one thing among many, but also one of my favorites of all times. I must find out the name of this magical creature, and what she looks like so the memory of her and her wonderful call remains with me when we go.

Industrial battles

Industrial farming corporations battle nature but it is Nature who taught the Kung Fo masters.

Get out of the way

"Knives cut. Buckets hold. Sometimes—the only thing you can do is get out of the way." - I Ching