Large Fierce Mammal

Tonight’s Dark Sentiment is a prophetic little ditty in the form of an animated short film made in 2012 by the team of Alon Tako, Guy Elnathan, Daniel Lichter, and Sivan Kotek as their third year film project at Jerusalem’s Bezalel Academy of Arts and Design.

Glued is the story of a mother’s travails in attempting to get her video game addicted son to just go the hell outside and play. When I say the film is prophetic, this is not a reference to the future of all mankind, but rather to that of anyone at risk of coming to understand life through the delivery system of digitally rendered reality. We all know real life lessons are learned from things like finding out by experiment how high a height you can jump from without breaking anything, and I have no doubt that you, as I, will feel pangs of sympathy in the last scene.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Glued. (more…)

“If you’ve ever lost someone who mattered, regardless of their species, you have experienced grief. If you haven’t so far, then you eventually will, because all relationships in Nature come with an expiry date. Neither good nor evil, it’s the way of things, and grief is the process Nature has given to some of her creatures (not only humans) to permit adaptation to getting on with living …

“One can’t always walk in the sun, and there are times when navigating the darkness must be done without a light to see by until the day it comes, as it is meant to, from within. I’ll leave you with that thought, and close with one of my favourite quotes from James Tiberius Kirk, spoken in a pivotal scene from Star Trek V – The Final Frontier: ‘Damn it Bones, you’re a doctor. You know that pain and guilt can’t be taken away with the wave of a magic wand. They’re the things we carry with us, the things that make us who we are. If we lose them, we lose ourselves. [to Sybok] I don’t want my pain taken away! I need my pain!’ ~ Dark Sentiments 2012 – Day 7: Grief

On 6 June of this year, I made mention here that, “Tonight a Most Esteemed Friend’s Dog is at peace. His Master is not.”

The Dog of whom I spoke was Bodhi Carbone, to whose exploits I dedicated my 2012 poem Hunter’s Soul. My EFF Gary, Pam, and your — if I may, our — dear departed Bodhi, this is dedicated to you as you find your way back to the shore. It hurts, and it’s supposed to until it doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean you’ll ever be “over it”. That, you’re not supposed to, because the joy of a life well lived is not diminished by the fact that it ended.

Bodhi Carbone. (Gary Carbone photo)

Floodplains

By LFM

Beloved soul, enshrined in Life,
Mother, Father, Husband, Wife,
Sister, brother, infant, child,
Released in death unto the wild.

Such power is no tiny thing
To bundle up and blindly fling,
So whither for this loos-ed ghost?
Why, to the ones it loves the most!

Thence cleaving to those left behind,
The spirit would become entwined
With kindred souls still snugly donned,
In fragments measured to the bond.

And this is where the pain is felt,
Proportioned to the measure dealt.
As heavy rain on forest loam,
It takes a while to soak it home.

But be no rigid vessel pray!
No fragile thing of glass or clay!
As floodplains flood and green again,
Resist thee not the spirit’s yen.

Who rides the storm and bears the din
Will find the room to let it in,
Beloved spirit, bound to be
An ever cherished part of thee.

So those bequeathed must bear the sting
That such a gift as this will bring,
There is no succor nor release,
But storm tossed waves from pain to peace.

Artificial intelligence is a field that offers opportunities both for wondrous good and ultimate evil, for as man strives as a god to create sentience in his own image, much of known history and current reality is at risk of sacrifice upon the altar of wishful thinking.

That being said, tonight’s Dark Sentiment was brought to my attention by the ever vigilant CGBros, and takes a different slant by way of an animated short film that tells the story of an elderly woman whose lone existence comes to be punctuated by one little robot. (more…)

“Spirit Messengers. The term conjures images of animals sent by a higher power to offer guidance toward the right Path. A Google search will turn up reams of pages identifying the characteristics of each creature, along with its “meaning” should it choose to make itself seen to you under a variety of circumstances.

“As with publications that purport to assist you in the interpretation of dreams, I personally hold that this “if A then B” approach at once trivializes and over complicates something my experience has shown to be both subtle and powerful, as is Nature Herself.” ~ Musings on Mindfulness

If you read the excerpt above, and even better, the entire article it’s taken from, you’ll have at least some grasp of my philosophy of connectedness with all things. Naturally, your degree of understanding will be dictated by how much of your life’s fulfillment has come to you by way of connectedness with Nature, and how much it relies on having subscribed to the Human conceit that places you “above all that”.

It was On the 28th day of August passed, I received an unexpected gift in two parts. The first I found early that morning on the blog of my Esteemed Friend Jim Keating of whom I’ve previously written.

“… In our superior way of science and intellect, we have became dumber than rocks about the mystical, spiritual world that makes our planet sacred. All wells and springs should be graced as “sacred”. The magic of such places can be felt. The dwellers therein can be sensed and eventually reached. Trust me, there are methods. They work. The true secret of the Feathers is beyond most men’s scope of understanding. Feathers are the magnifying, transmitting wands of energetic exchange between the two worlds. Once understood the power of the feather is never forgotten. Once learned, the same path can be employed through minor experimentation w/ other items, substances and mediums. To actually meet with and have a relationship w/ the genus loci is an honor beyond all honors for a human being. Wonders await those whose hearts are open and inner senses keen. Worlds within worlds – this is the shaman’s vision, himself a witness, a watcher, a chronicler of such wonders. Caretakers with awareness and a delicate tread upon the Earth are needed. Far more so than warriors are needed.” ~ GENUS LOCI: The True Owners of the Sacred Places, James A. Keating, Ramblings of the Roach

The second was so singularly remarkable that, coming as it did on the same day as my reading Jim’s references to feathers, I immediately wrote to him about it, saying in part:

“… I was thinking about what you wrote of wells and springs, and especially the matter of Feathers, today as I walked up the trail to the well to give thanks for its bounty, as I do regularly. Coming back down, I resolved to explore the Feather lore of which you speak, knowing as we do that there would be little grain to separate from much chaff in the quest, but worth the trip for the tiny scraps of Truth that might be found.

“This afternoon, I had cause to drive across town to pick up a cheque from a client’s office. I parked in front of the building and was inside for less than a minute for the exchange of pleasantries and mercenary remuneration. As I approached my car I heard a Crow calling to me from a nearby tree, and as I looked at my car I found a surprise … a 9 inch long Crow’s flight feather lying next to my car right by the driver’s side door, seemingly deposited for me to find as a Cat may leave a Mouse at the door of a respected Human.

“Naturally, I picked it up. The Crow got more excited. Looking up at him/her, I held the Feather up and said, “Thank you!”

“Still cawing, the Crow flew off and I returned home where the Feather now rests on my desk.

“Some may say the gift comes to the worthy, and I would agree. But I also feel the gift comes with a demand for more worthiness, and so we improve. Now I embark on what study is required to learn its purpose.

“Endless thanks Jim. With no disrespect to the Feather bearer, you were my first gift bearing Crow of the day!”

Jim’s reply brought with it a very interesting revelation indeed:

“Right after reading your email I went outside and up the hill to see if any mail had came. There in the driveway lay a feather — I had checked for mail earlier — no feather. But I kid you not, this just happened. Yes, a real case of cool coincidence as some may see it. From my locus, heh heh, it’s no coincidence at all – it’s a DIRECT and CLEAR communication & confirmation of what I had shared, of what we both have experienced and observed. Spot on, always perfect alignment of thought and deed as per command of the greater forces that work through us all. The spirit never misses its mark.

A phenomenon of synchronicity had occurred involving two Men living with the entirety of North America between them. One that was at once remarkable and not particularly hard to believe at all, for as Jim has more recently written in his blog:

“To possess the higher art – the vessel (you) which receives it, holds it gently in the Zen way must also be worthy of the grand task. The change will happen from the inside out. In this new period of life many of us are awakening to we must set our intent to capture the good energies it brings us. Look for the mini-miracles, the odd synchronicity and sublime messages that walking this new path brings to us. If you see them, they are confirmations that you are on the right track. Bravo! The ones who embrace fear, who fuel fear and anger and channel such dark energy will continue to do so. Their own actions and thoughts will create a self igniting firestorm resulting in their own detriment or demise. There is little that can be done for these type of beings except to pray for them. In your thoughts, in your deeds manifest the qualities of the master’s path. Guidance comes from within so slow down and listen to the message ….” ~ The Art of Nobility: Advanced Fighting Methods #2, James A. Keating, Ramblings of the Roach

“Through every life, lived fully or not, taken note of or not, cycles repeat within and without our mortal vessels. Tiny samples of starting and ending match the macroscopic in their ebs and flows. Rises and falls. Wins and losses. Loves and hates. Embarkations and abandonments. Just as a spell of ascendant convergence may arise from a wondrously perfect storm, an equally perfect one in opposition may cast all that was uplifted into destruction and despair.” ~ Dark Sentiments Season 8 — Day 1: A Greeting from your Favourite Reaper

It would be a mistake to presume that the cycles impinging upon our lives are beyond our ability to control. Particularly so if the presumption is that a cycle could not find its beginning, ending, acceleration, or diminution in our own actions, indeed even our mere presence in a certain place and time. (more…)

“We say that flowers return every spring, but that is a lie. It is true that the world is renewed. It is also true that that renewal comes at a price, for even if the flower grows from an ancient vine, the flowers of spring are themselves new to the world, untried and untested.

“The flower that wilted last year is gone. Petals once fallen are fallen forever. Flowers do not return in the spring, rather they are replaced. It is in this difference between returned and replaced that the price of renewal is paid.

“And as it is for spring flowers, so it is for us.” ~ Daniel Abraham, The Price of Spring

Welcome back, weary Traveller, to this eighth season of Dark Sentiments.

This season finds me basking in a time of bounty, on every level. My Life is in a period of ascension driven by convergence of positive outcomes, each brought about by an amalgam of my personally chosen courses, and those made by others of flesh or Spirit, whose existence impinges upon mine, whether I know of them directly or simply through the effects of their actions. For me and mine then, as I said, this is a time of ascendant convergence, Life is good and my actions in the current year have met with a delightful fruition that inspires me in my Darkness.

Yes, my Darkness.

As a Husband, a Father, a Teacher, a Student, a Friend, a Comrade, a Man — as one who strives to be a complete specimen of that animal called Human — I understand that in all things, cycles prevail.

To be a complete Human is to embrace the spectrum of Life from end to end, and not shying away from any of it. Through every life, lived fully or not, taken note of or not, cycles repeat within and without our mortal vessels. Tiny samples of starting and ending match the macroscopic in their ebbs and flows. Rises and falls. Wins and losses. Loves and hates. Embarkations and abandonments. Just as a spell of ascendant convergence may arise from a wondrously perfect storm, an equally perfect one in opposition may cast all that was uplifted into destruction and despair.

Peril lies in averting the senses so these patterns, in their perfect similarity, remain unnoticed over time. In this, the quality of Living is willfully diminished, for we are meant to embrace them, both to be a part of these cycles and to make them a part of us. So we will not accept bobbing on the currents, the swells and troughs, like a cork upon the ocean, but so we can navigate. Ride out the stills and storms with confidence in our choices, even to our inevitable meeting with Death.

Lest pandemonium and unjustified revelries commence, no, I have not received word that Mrs. LFM is in the throes of impending widowhood, nor will these waning months of 2017 see me relaunching a rumour that I am already dead like I did those other times. At least not this year.

So now, in the joyous knowledge that I have sufficiently delighted my Friends and disappointed my Enemies, I invite Friend and Foe alike to enjoy the ride.

The inspiration for this poem — bird’s nest fungus growing on an old manure pile, captured in its beauty by Paula Cardinell (click photo to enbiggen).

Even the simplest things in Nature have lessons to teach, and indeed the very Profundity of Simplicity may be the greatest of them all. Today is a perfect day to read this poem, and then meditate on what it says during a mindful walk in the woods.

A Song of Fungal Wisdom

By LFM

The Fungus is a simple thing
That isn’t always seen,
But nonetheless is everywhere
That you have ever been.

The Fungus is a simple thing
That likes the dark and shade,
And thrives in places others shun,
On food that’s ready made.

The Fungus is a simple thing
That craves not Sun nor Bee.
Its fruits it hides to ne’er be seen
Until it’s time to be.

The Fungus is a simple thing
That’s rarely understood,
And even while it little cares
Still serves the greater good.

The Fungus is a simple thing
That eaten may delight,
But goodness will withhold from thee
Unless you treat it right.

The Fungus is a simple thing,
With every role to fill,
Its kind can spoil your food or flesh,
May feed, or heal, or kill.

The Fungus is a simple thing
That likes the shady Boyne,
As well as cellars damp and dark,
And creases in your groin.

The Fungus is a simple thing
That all who drink may thank
For every draught of alcohol
In every drink they’ve drank.

The Fungus is a simple thing,
But never in that way
Of condescending “primitive”
That pundits like to say.

The Fungus is a simple thing
That’s ready night and day
To find what’s good in death and all
That others cast away.

The Fungus is a simple thing,
As is and ever was.
He’s wise who learns the when and how
To do as Fungus does.

Welcome back fellow Traveller to this chapter of The Goode Fyght where today we will begin our look at energy and the economics of action as they apply to aging.

Right up until you die, you will find that your only option is to keep getting older, just as Nature intended. Some try to pretend it isn’t happening by dressing, acting, surgically altering themselves, all in protest of this singular inevitability. Some others seem to embrace age as an excuse for lack of effort and inadequacy. But hyperbolic news flashes notwithstanding, death stands as the only proven method to arrest the aging process, and to my mind it should stay that way. My advice — either go now and die without further delay, or commit to ride the wave because the quality of your experience aging through life will depend on the quality of person experiencing it.

“One may have grown dissatisfied with one’s appearance as it has changed over time, and become caught up in squandering time, thought, and treasure in a fruitless battle to recapture a fondly remembered moment of perfection, and hold it in stasis forever. A moment of perfection that never existed; for perfection, for each of us, is not a thing that existed once upon a time, but in the moment that is now, and if you can’t find it there, you won’t find it anywhere …” ~ A Long Winter’s Night 2014 — Day 11: Perfection

Let’s pause a moment for a word from the late and incomparably great Warren Zevon with his thoughts on the matter, kindly presented complete with singalong lyrics courtesy of YouTube user RobotUnicornMadness. (more…)

“Next time we’ll begin looking at these in concert with the other concepts I’ve introduced in previous chapters, as they are being delivered by a selection of Teachers, and the motivations of students who seek them out.” ~ The Goode Fyght — Chapter the Fifth

Welcome back to the fireside Goode and Worthy Reader. Please take your ease as we begin by revisiting and expanding on the concepts I spoke of in my closing remarks when last we met.

In Chapter the First of The Goode Fyght, we introduced “polarity” — the Natural kind described by chemistry and physics, and most particularly the societal flavours in all their wondrous variety. In both cases, polarity is an outcome of polarization, and polar opposites cannot, indeed need not, exist without it. Where polarization of any kind holds sway, the pressing together of polar opposites will meet with increasing resistance as external forces strive to bring them closer, and while in Nature such proximity may serve to neutralize the influence of both extremes, there are cases wherein the outcome may be total obliteration of all concerned. The magic lies in knowing if, when, how, and where to press.

Polarity.

In Chapter the Second, we spoke of “stress” and “conflict”, and how both have always existed as positive components in the world. While Man in his capacity as conceitful latecomer to the party may have granted them names, he has also applied strict limitations on their application and placed each firmly beneath the Cloud of Judgement whose shadow marks all things deemed wrong and needful of eradication.

Stress.

Conflict.

In Chapter the Fourth, it was “survival” and “self-defense”, and how notwithstanding the definitions granted to each by the industries built around them, neither meant once what it has come to mean now.

Survival.

Self-defense.

Surrounded by the wonders of technology with its endlessly head turning entertainments, the promise of better health and longevity than ever before in history,  it comes as no surprise to me that so many still feel drawn to address a gnawing sense of vulnerability to loss of control over their lives, and most particularly to violence. I call these The Unsettled. Viewed through a lens of misleading vividness, in a society that no longer understands manners, treating with others, and the meaning of Community, what exactly one must be prepared for becomes skewed. Awash in a continuum of actions and reactions, one leading into the next, interpretation of feedback and adjustments accordingly, the path to salvation is blurred when one gets sucked into another polarized binary narrative where the only states are hunky dory and shitstorm.

In the former case, the message is don’t rock the boat. Everything’s being handled. Just keep having fun and go try that new sushi joint down the block, and dial 911 if you feel offended. In the latter, there’s nothing you can, could, or should do about it. Run. Hide. Call for Daddy. Seeking Truth in a world devoid of it, The Unsettled have come to suspect, if not realize, that Western society as it exists at this dangerous moment is a legacy not of learning and advancement, but of forgetting and relinquishment. That in these pivotal times, it sits tottering atop a foundation of antagonisms, built both of ill considered conceit in its superiority to all others, and an avalanche of atonement and appeasement born of a burning need to offer apology for its success.

Much irreplaceable time and  treasure may be squandered in an unmeasured hand wringing approach, and the risk exists that a decision may be made to exhaust limited resources in equipping and learning to deal with the most feared threat or threats of the moment rather than the most likely and perpetually looming ones. That teaching may be sought based more on good marketing than pragmatism.

There are teachers and there are Teachers, and going forward from here we will be naming names and speaking to why I’ve uttered them. For today however, I will leave you with the names of two of the best, at the feet of whom have studied every one of the Worthies to follow:

• Nature, and Her disciple;
• Reality

Until we meet again Goode Reader.

Mrs. LFM and I awoke in this morning’s pre-dawn darkness to the sound of 2 year old Lukas wailing for Daddy. Not an uncommon thing for a child to awake with a household wide broadcast, but the urgency of his call specifically for me sent me to him sans delay.

I quickly interposed myself between Lukas and all that troubled his mind, and we snoozed snuggled together until the sun peeking over the horizon summoned the LFM household to wakefulness that included, for the safety of the rest of the world, that most critical element called Coffee.

That sequence of events inspired this.

Pre Coffee Daddy

By LFM

In the midst of the night there are things that will crawl
Into sweetest of dreams with a purpose to maul
And drag brightest of sweet under darkest of pall
Where no sweetness exists, and the darkness is all.

It was only last night that a thing came to call
On my two year old son with most brazen of gall,
And there learnt to its debt of the folly to proll
Where a darker thing yet lies within beck and call.

For at crossroad, in forest, or dark musty hall,
By sacrifice, blood let, or pins in a doll,
Of all daemons drawn to the supplicant’s call,
Is Pre Coffee Daddy the worst of them all.