Sunday, January 14, 2018

An Open Perspective: Folk Theosophy



God.

This one word is a complete sentence in the English language.  "God" is both a noun and a verb.  As a noun the word "God" requires no modifier or descriptor.  There is no way to embellish or add to the meaning of the word "God".  In the same way the verb "God" requires no conditional reference.  God is unconditional.  God is incontrovertible.

As reverently as I utter the word "God" I have done God a disservice.  The fault stems from my desire to communicate something that I can know of but cannot fully quantify, truly understand or in the vernacular, "really know".  I cannot say how big God is.  I cannot say what gender God is.  Even my use of the word "God" limits my ability to express the concept of God.

Faith.

In the same way that God is, faith is.  Faith in an unconditional God is unconditional.  Faith in a God that I can know of but not "really know" is faith that cannot be defined or limited.  Faith is simply the belief that God is.  To have faith is to accept everything about an unconditional, unknowable God.

... an orphan left at the doorstep of the universe.

The Blank Page

I knew it would be here waiting patiently for me.  Virginal, white in its vast emptiness.  The mirror that offers no reflection.  I have felt its allure now for days.  Its siren calling.  I've caught glimpses of it, out of the corner of my eye, when I was daydreaming about something else.  I've felt its pull.

Perhaps it is a painter's canvas, drawn tight, gesso'ed white.  I am told the picture paints itself, the artist merely holds the brush.  Colors call out to be stroked, chiseled, fanned and blurred.


Cord Cutting - so 15 min. ago.

Yeah, I know, cord cutting is sooooo 15 minutes ago.  OMG!

Here is a subtle little American-ism slithering through the rank&file psyche - without regularly scheduled social "TV" events to stand as milestone or markers - the cord cutter's days are bereft of "what did you do" moments".

The other Saturday I found myself in the middle of the afternoon wondering just what it was that I should be doing.  Upon reflection I realized that I didn't have "The Game" to tune into.  I didn't have the pivotal match-up to reference so that I would have the appropriate Watercoolr ® highlights.

In fact I began to realize that I didn't have any of the "media markers" to matrix my life around.  I don't have the "Morning Shows" (Mourning?), I don't have the midday talk/gossip programs, I don't have the "Evening News".  Hell, I don't even have the late shows.

I have managed to shipwreck myself on this barren media-less island.  All I have to look forward to are the birds, at the feeders, outside in the snow, through the kitchen window.

Sunday, August 13, 2017

"Honor is not ..."

The following quote attributed to Herbert Hoover popped up on my IFTTT email feed of daily quotes.  My initial read offered an underlying sense of discord.  Why is it that what he said and what he most likely meant are like two trains on the same track running in opposite directions.

"Honor is not the exclusive property of any political party."

My assumption is that Mr. Hoover most likely meant that any [one] political party did not have Honor exclusively.  Unfortunately Mr. Hoover's use of a seeming Orwellian twist of phrase leaves rise to a much more sinister result.  He suggests that Honor is not the only property of any political party.  As we have seen in current politics each party, not being held exclusively by the property of Honor, has taken the liberty to use any and all nefarious tricks available to them to reach their desired ends.


Herbert Clark Hoover (August 10, 1874 – October 20, 1964) was an American politician who served as the 31st President of the United States from 1929 to 1933 during the Great Depression. ( Herbert Hoover - Wikipedia )

Saturday, June 10, 2017

The Obit Ritual


Idle curiosity
slowing down in life traffic
to rubber neck
sightseeing the posted
accounts of issues and accidents

Morbid curiosity
fine sieve filtering
each salient detail
grasping for correlations
between the moment and the future

Mortal curiosity
soleful recollections
of cherished shared memories
embracing the comforts
of our anticipated passing




(Cross posted to 2Voices)

Friday, May 12, 2017

Learning new Scampi

I have developed a fondness for America's Test Kitchen.  Clear and concise recipes and techniques bring new found nuance to my culinary skill set.

Served in the Hoover Bowls
Prior to the Seafood Supper episode my limited understanding of Shrimp Scampi was just that, "limited".  I would have ended up with rubbery shrimp in a broken butter sauce.  Then Elle Simone opened my eyes.

Because I was prepping for just B and myself we took a few liberties with the recipe.  Using 12 ounces of  "Extra Large" (26-30 per pound) means more bite-sized shrimp per serving.   Reducing the 3-2-1 ration of salt, sugar and water to 3 cups of water, 2 teaspoons of salt and 1 teaspoon of sugar worked just right.  Turns out we should have reduced the red pepper flake by about two thirds as well.

This version of Shrimp Scampi can very easily stand on its own merits.  Not being one to leave well enough alone I pushed the envelope.  Exercising the absolute luxury of adding just the tips of Asparagus in the last couple of minutes of finishing the shrimp and sauce added the green compliment that I am always looking for.

Then, as if that were not enough, adding in Buitoni's Linquine Pasta to complete the meal.  Let me rave about this pasta for just a moment.  Buitoni Pasta and Sauces are most often found in or close to the Dairy section.  There is good reason for this.  This is fresh pasta, not dried or frozen.  This pasta cooks very, very quickly.  This pasta is light, flavorful and has so much integrity that it even does well the next day, refrigerated of course.  Bellissimo!

I am not Facebook

The depth of my depression and the height of my anxiety regarding the current state of our union has gone from outrageous to nearly debilitating.  My faith in government is non-existent.  My faith in our political system is shaken to its very core.  Even my long standing belief that society will right itself and steer a moral course has been called into question.


Initially I expressed my frustration on Facebook.  I railed against our current president believing that adding my echo to the cacophonous outrage of the multitudes [would in some way make a difference].  Then I began to notice two distinct things.  The cacophonous outrage of the multitudes was just that, 'sound and fury signifying nothing.'  Moreover, Facebook was no longer fulfilling.  Each visit left me just that much more empty, dissatisfied.

So here I am.  Sitting alone.  Feeling better for having gotten that off my chest.

Moving forward... (never straight).

Monday, March 21, 2016

Cooking, for me ... The distance

Cooking, for me, is a form of meditation.  Before all else it requires intentional presence, the act of my being present.  Alert with all my senses.  Cooking is about my being in the moment.  Cooking is about entering into a full and rich relationship with food which I will prepare and eventually consume.  Cooking requires time.  Cooking should not be done in haste.  In cooking there are no real short-cuts.  Eventually I must do everything well.

Like a dancer, when I am preparing food I must be aware of my relationship with the cooking space.  As well I must be aware of those around me such that we compliment each other.



The distance between us rends my peace
shadows my silence
spears my solitude

In your stead I have planted
Iris

soft licking splashes of memory
held hands with craving hearts
singing softly over walks
facing the night
the same moon in different skys

the perfume of yeast rising
kneading your hands
hungry for warm baked
enveloping hugs

bitter sweet tailings of
wine upon your tongue
taking my breath
catching

the last scent

Sunday, March 20, 2016

Thoughts on time...

Damned electric analog clocks with their ceaseless ticking. Never any real silence. Just the imposed mesh of sequential marks. I wonder what it would truly be like to be without time. Certainly there would remain the light of day and the darkness of night. But what would it be like to lose all sense of seconds, minutes and hours. No alarm clock impositions of meaning in the day; wake up, be here, go there, remember to take those. No time stamps on emails or Facebook posts. No little synchronized little digital clocks in the lower right hand corner of computer screens. No business hours. Or calls to prayer. No traffic lights or even speed limits, measured in miles per hour. There would be no recipes calling for temperature over time. Time would become the duration of things. Lightness and darkness. The phases of the moon. Ebb and flow of the tide. Seasons of warmth and of cold. Menstruation and lengths of gestation. When certain foods become available. We would ask if there was enough light to travel to the next destination. Or we would acknowledge that it takes Soup amount of time to prepare and cook it. Or how long it took doing something to become tired or sore.

Sunday, January 03, 2016

Not so Still Life

While the title of this post is an homage to Richard Brautigan's "Still Life with Woodpecker" here at the Flying Pig Ranch & Thistle Farm life is not so still.  Rummaged around in the shed and finally located that little green cage thing with its hanging chain.  Remembered to get the suet block the last time I was in the bird feeder section.  Rewarded this afternoon with a Downy Woodpecker...

Downy Woodpecker Photo

Spent about ten minutes clinging to the cage and hammering the suet block.

Life is good, but not still.  

. . .