I hear ya, Bro. Not much about the world you see in front of you has seemed quite right from the beginning. Adults have drilled into you at every turn that you have to be honest, patient and kind, take turns, not be greedy, don’t cheat or steal or think you’re better or more deserving than anyone else. Practice the Golden Rule, don’t prey on those weaker, keep your promises, honor your commitments. But it seems everywhere you look, venality and aggression, vulgarity and dishonesty rule the day. Film stars, politicians, coaches, corporate titans, clergy and teachers knee deep in…
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“For she is the world creatrix, ever mother, ever virgin. She encompasses the encompassing, nourishes the nourishing, and is the life of everything that lives. She is also the death of everything that dies. The whole round of existence is accomplished within her sway, from birth, through adolescence, maturity, and senescence, to the grave. She is the womb and the tomb: the sow that eats its farrow. Thus she unites the ‘good’ and the ‘bad,’ exhibiting the two modes of the remembered mother, not as personal only, but as universal. The devotee is expected to contemplate the two with equal…
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*** First: the primeval fear and wonder, the fact of existence itself, the gaping at the savannas, the odd and menacing creatures abounding, the vast sprawl of the stars. Noting the deep growl of hunger, the insistent urge to sample tubers, mushrooms, fruit from the trees, the slow and hapless life forms crawling beneath our gaze. The terror of being prey for stronger and faster life forms, with their shrieks and snarls and rumbles through the night. Hearing the helpless wails of our mates being devoured. The seeking for shelter and haven. The cowering. The thinking. The gathering…
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Make no mistake: It’s war out there. Arduous, protracted war, in which prisoners are endured only if necessary, but their execution is preferred. In this witless zero sum game, sun and soil and water are the prizes, and brutal, single-minded purpose is the cost of pursuing them. My name is Wisteria, and my goal is to cover every square inch of Earth. Mind if I sidle in here underneath you for a spell? *** Thankfully, wisteria won’t likely achieve its goal, but it will not be for lack of trying. To its no-doubt chagrin, it hasn’t (yet?) figured out how…
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Sometimes, in the diffused light of dawn or dusk, or on foggy streets where almost indiscernible shapes begin to reveal themselves as a human being or two in motion, I will peer a little closer, catch a certain swing of arm, quickened cadence, bounce of head or forward bend and know instantly, “There’s Gene!” (Or Karen or Kate or Kelly.) Our bodies in motion are akin to signatures, indelible gestures that mark and follow us throughout life. All our intimates (excepting the visually impaired) can spot us from the proverbial mile away. But those signatures do share something profound in…