Large Fierce Mammal

Before the foppery of fashion that surrounds us today there were old standards that stood the test of centuries. Most notably, the codpiece and the cloak. The latter is our subject today, presented by lindybeige as part of his A Point About series. If your accessory list for a night on the town includes daggers – always recommended in the event that sharp wits aren’t enough –  a cloak is the perfect accompaniment. Now be still and let the man speak.

If you want to be a musician, but the only time you play your instrument, or even think about it, is during your half-hour weekly lesson, you’ll never become a musician.   You have to think about it all the time.

Eat it, breathe it, dream it.

You practice constantly, even when you have no instrument with you. You listen. You become aware of music on many levels. You hear music all around you in the nickering of horses, in the roaring traffic swoon, in the silence of your lonely room, you think about it night and day. You become aware of rhythm. The rhythm of the seasons, sunrise and sunset, the wind in the trees playing weird melodies, the rhapsody in the rain.  The rhythm of your heartbeat, fast or slow. The heartbeat of a lover. The oceans. The heartbeat of the earth.
 
“Musician” isn’t a job or a hobby. It isn’t something you do part-time, neatly compartmentalized away from the rest of your life. It is your life. A way of being in the world. And once you know it, experience it, feel it, thereafter, wherever you go, whatever you do, you do it differently, as a musician, than a non-musician would. And you can never go back to being the person you were before. ~ On Un-ringing the Bell by Adam Crown, M. d’A.

I’ve said here before that to arrive at an understanding of one Way is to open the door to understanding all Ways, to which I lay no claim of ownership for I am not unique in that realization.

I do assert, however, that The Way of the Wild is the point of convergence for the Ways of all things. With the exception of Man, all Nature’s creatures exist in oneness with the Way of the Wild as it is meant to express itself through their kind. For them, no road to understanding, as we would define it, is necessary. Only Man can live out an entire lifetime in blissful ignorance, or even in willful refusal, of the Way of the Wild as it is meant to express itself in human endeavour, but this is a temporary thing for it is only made possible through reliance on potentially transient conditions and influences that lie outside yourself.

To further illustrate this, I’m directing your attention today to The Swordmaster’s Grimoire, and most particularly to the 17 November 2012 article therein titled On Un-ringing the Bell, an excerpt from which was quoted at the top of this piece. You can bask in Adam Crown’s Wisdom by clicking here.

L-R: Jesse Cook, Nicolas Hernandez, Chris Church, Rosendo “Chendy” Leon, and Dennis Mohammed (Source: http://www.jessecook.com (click to enbiggen))

Last Sunday evening, Mrs. LFM and I spent some exquisite hours soaking up the perfection that is Jesse Cook and his band of musical magicians, with the added spice of incomparable guest vocalist Emma-Lee. The tour is titled The Blue Guitar Sessions, and the venue was the Rebecca Cohn Auditorium at the Dalhousie Arts Centre in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Last night, Mother LFM likewise attended a performance in Kitchener, Ontario. Like us, she was sensualized to the point of needing medication – fortunately, there was a bar at intermission.

Emma-Lee (Paul Steward photo – source: emma-lee.com. Click to enlarge)

As I lingered with my perfect Wife over coffee this morning, discussing her mother’s reactions to what she saw and heard last night in comparison to our own, we both concluded that, for our part, if we could only be at one musical performance in our lives, we could do no better than this. More, if by some wondrous quirk of fate, after a lifetime of learning of everything and everyone else that is out there, we were offered a second chance to choose, we’d say, “I’d like that first one again, thanks.”

We’ve appreciated Jesse Cook for years, but this was the first time we’ve experienced him in the flesh. Emma-Lee only came to our ken after Mrs. LFM acquired the latest Jesse Cook album, resulting in a viewing of the Lady’s website where we were delighted to learn she is as beautiful to look at as she is to listen to. Get both at once and even the most virile among us need a day to rest.

Chris Church (photo from Mr. Church’s website – click to enlarge)

Jesse Cook is a Force of Nature, and only another who’s cut of the same cloth can share the stage with him without fading into the background. There was no fading here. Let’s start naming names:

In the course of the performance, Halifax native Chris Church played violin, accordion, piano, and proved himself to be among the lesser gods of the Armenian Duduk, which all my readers will remember has been known since antiquity as a Tsiranapogh. The Duduk is a woodwind instrument with a haunting sound that you’ll recognize if you pay attention to the soundtracks of the movies you watch. Incredible, incredible artist. The good Mr. Church sings every bit as well as he plays his instruments.

Chendy Leon (Chendy Leon photo – click to enlarge)

Born in Havana, Cuba, Rosendo “Chendy” Leon is the percussionist/drummer. From start to end, Chendy made his influence felt using everything from a traditional drum setup to bongos, wooden boxes, a clay jar, and I’m not certain he didn’t use my skull at one point. The drum is a primal thing, and so, we think, is Chendy. Interesting to note, and with no offense intended to anyone else in this incredibly hot assemblage of talent, in a comment to Mother LFM today, Mrs. LFM commented, “… we were right in the center, 4th row in. Almost close enough to touch. And when Chendy was in front, it was tempting!”

Nicolas Hernandez (Nicolas Hernandez photo – click to enlarge)

Flamenco trained guitarist Nicolas Hernandez is a justifiably celebrated artist in his own right. Jesse Cook is married to a flamenco dancer, and the flamenco flavour of his music is wonderfully seasoned by the presence of Mr. Hernandez. As they say in the likewise primal world of food and drink – a perfect pairing.

Yoser Rodriguez (Yoser Rodriguez photo – click to enlarge)

Bass player Dennis Mohammed had not linked up with the Jesse Cook posse in time for the Halifax performance. The super powered Yoser Rodríguez was there in his stead, doing the deed the way it needs to be done. I somehow missed why – something lost between the music and She Who Snuggled Next to Me – but Jesse Cook explained how Yoser was brought in at the last minute and ended up learning everything he needed to know about the tour in the span of 24 hours. Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Rodríguez can justly lay claim to the title of Super Hero, and I will personally refrain from wearing a hat, weather notwithstanding, for the next 24 hours, just in his honour.

My Esteemed Father in Law, Ryszard Kleszczynski, aficionado of the guitar that he was, would have loved this concert, and the only thing about it that displeases me is that he was too busy being dead to be there. And to Mr. Jesse Cook, if you read this good Sir, let it be known that we have slightly met. I was the guy in Halifax last Sunday night, sitting four rows back almost in front of you, who was the only one to admit to having gotten lucky during the intermission. In truth, I got lucky eleven years ago, and it’s never run out.

I’ll end this with a small sampler that I hope will give you sufficient insight to send you forth to buy everything every one of these Artists has ever done, or ever will do, and to buy tickets to the next Jesse Cook concert near you.

First up, Mario Takes a Walk:

Next, Dance of Spring (Live at the Metropolis) viewable here.

A behind the scenes introduction to the posse:

From the latest album, Jesse Cook with the spectacular Emma-Lee, I Put a Spell On You:

Emma-Lee’s vibe in person far transcends what even her beautifully crafted music videos can present. All that and she’s a professional photographer too! One of the songs she opened the show with needs to be included in the soundtrack of Quentin Tarantino’s next movie, and while the following video doesn’t feature her spectacular whistling skills as in the concert, as a fair to middlin’ whistler coming from a long line of whistin’ fools myself, I can tell you, that girl’s got some lips on her! Here’s Not Coming By:

If all this doesn’t convince you to go and buy anything these Artists are associated with, it’s probably because you’re deaf, and our hearts go out to you.

An unreserved LFM stamp of approval all around!

Our Bruce – He’s ALL Dog, ALL the time! (Mrs. LFM photo – click it to enbiggen)

Early in the present century, while Mrs. LFM was finishing her last year of University, we rented an apartment in Halifax near the Dalhousie campus. In the neighbourhood lived a woman who was regularly encountered walking her Dog, off lead, on sidewalks that lay adjacent to busy city streets. The Dog never strayed from being in a perfect on the left, shoulders even with handler’s legs, position, and never looked right or left. Neither did it make any kind of eye contact with the woman, and nothing that happened around it was ever seen to break the spell. It was an automaton that just looked like a Dog, and while the woman appeared content, there was no detectable joy in the relationship for either of them.

We’ll never know for sure what methods were employed to kill the Spirit of a Dog to the degree necessary to convert it into a piece of walking furniture – although it had the earmarks of electric shock collar aversive “training” written all over it – but the Dog in question had clearly learned that its only hope of happiness lay within very narrow and strictly enforced limits of behaviour. The animal called Dog simply didn’t live there any more, in a manner I find reminds me of what I’ve read describing the assimilation philosophy underlying the Canadian Indian Residential School system – “Kill the Indian in the child.”

For kids, Dogs, or any other creature in Nature, this is not in accordance with the Way of the Wild, nor with any definition of morality we want anything to do with beyond rooting it out and tearing it to shreds, and all this leads me to introduce an excellent article supporting my argument that the road to Dog hell is paved with human misconceptions. Nature is, at once, infinitely complex and wondrously simple. Her complexity should not concern you because you are part of it. Her simplicity is where you live every day, and in that you should celebrate your good fortune because you share it with some beautiful things, like Dogs.

The article of which I speak was written by Silvia Jay; deservedly respected Dog behaviour consultant, and tenured member of our extremely short list of Esteemed Friends. I might add that she dislikes poetry in general, and yet LOVES mine, but that would be stooping to a level of self aggrandizement that might divert attention from the matter at hand. Suffice it to say that when Silvia talks about Dogs, or anything else for that matter, you would be well advised to put your tail in a neutral position, shut the hell up, and listen.

Published on 12 November 2012 to her blog, and titled Nature’s Punishments, Silvia’s article highlights the pitfalls that come when Nature’s simplicity is exploited and trivialized. “Simple” and “trivial” are not equals, so don’t go making vast plans with half-vast ideas.

Now get thee hence, and read Silvia’s article here.

Get women involved and everything gets better. Take a close look at that gun. (Kaila Cumings photo)

A hot woman who is also competent in the use of weapons is a mainstay in cinema, and yet when those skills are taken out of the realm of art and inserted into life, it’s often seen as remarkable – even bizarre – by the same people who thought it so wonderful in the movie theatre. A year ago today, in response to an article on the increasing number of women becoming involved in the traditionally male dominated field of hunting, I published an article here called This Makes Me Happy. I suggest you go read it if you haven’t already. In January of this year, I also reported on the Ukrainian Asgarda movement that teaches self reliance and the martial arts of the Cossacks to young women. Fine, fine stuff indeed.

I’m honoured to be married to a Warrior who appreciates a fine blade as much as I do, and brings as much skill and competence to operating a firearm as to everything else she does. It delights us both to see women embracing these interests and the skills that make them relevant. In the past year alone, we’ve watched as women in our sphere of acquaintance made the decision to learn the skills of the Hunt. (more…)

Unless you embrace a system of belief that has convinced you otherwise, you will know, or at least suspect, that human existence is made up of three critical components – Mind, Body, and Spirit. Spirit is not the same as soul.

I learned this long ago from Dogs, and other fellow creatures that were not human. Nevertheless, after I came to know it as True, I found it easy to recognize that for all practical purposes, some people have no Spirit, and for some of those it was a matter of choice.

The Body is the interface through which we interact with our environment. The Mind operates the Body as you would drive a car. Both are trainable, and so their interplay may be perfected to degrees that are wondrous to behold. The Spirit defines the higher ideal that is your very essence. Recognized, cultivated, and synchronized with Mind and Body, it is your gateway to Nature, and Oneness with Everything. To all that is REAL.

While the Mind wields its influence through the Body, it always does so based on lessons learned, and therefore it lives perpetually in the past. The way armies are always equipped and trained to fight the last war. The Spirit does not exist on a linear time scale. It exists in all times, and in every living instant, simultaneously. Likewise it does not require the physical senses to arrive at a state of Knowing.

You need to Know yours.

When evil stalks upon the land,
I’ll nyther hold nor stay me’ hand,
But fight to win a better day,
Over the hills and far away.

~ Over the Hills and Far Away, John Tams arrangement ~

At the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918, in a railway car outside Compiégne, France, Germany signed the armistice agreement that officially concluded the War to End All Wars. History has proven that, while well intentioned, this act was ineffective.

Today is Armistice Day; or Remembrance Day depending on your preference. The one day out of the year when it will take an all out, absolute, fucking thirteen alarm emergency to send me out to work. Today we remember the fallen, those who’ve served, and who continue to serve … wherever evil stalks.

Mrs. LFM and I have recently started rewatching the wonderful Sharpe series starring Sean Bean, and featuring the talents of John Tams in the screen role of Hagman. His musical skills are woven through most of the Sharpe series, on and off screen, and one particular piece – the one I quoted from above – is more than appropriate to today’s sentiment. So, today I’m presenting John Tams in a recording of Over the Hills and Far Away, along with the complete lyrics as he has arranged them.

Here’s fourteen shillings on the drum
For those who’ll volunteer to come
To list and fight the foe today
Over the hills and far away

Chorus:
O’er the hills and o’er the main
Through Flanders, Portugal and Spain
King George commands and we obey
Over the hills and far away

When duty calls me I must go
To stand and face another foe
Part of me will always stray
Over the hills and far away

[chorus]

Through smoke and fire and shot and shell
Unto the very walls of hell
We shall stand and we shall stay
Over the hills and far away

[chorus]

Now though I travel far from Spain
A part of me shall still remain
For you are with me night and day
Over the hills and far away

[chorus]

So fall in lads behind the drum
With Colours blazing like the sun
Along the road to come-what-may
Over the hills and far away

[chorus]

When evil stalks upon the land
I’ll nyther hold nor stay me’ hand
But fight to win a better day
Over the hills and far away

[chorus]

If I should fall to rise no more
As many comrades did before
Ask the pipes and drums to play
Over the hills and far away

[chorus]

Let Kings and tyrants come and go
I’ll stand ajudged by what I know
A soldier’s life I’ll ne’er gainsay
Over the hills and far away

[chorus]

Earlier this year, on the subject of The Book of Five Rings – The Definitive Interpretation of Musashi’s Classic Book by Stephen F. Kaufman, I wrote –

Musashi was perhaps the greatest swordsman who ever lived, and yet it would be a mistake to approach the Book of Five Rings as a guide to learning the most efficient methodology for killing with a sword. Likewise, it would be completely erroneous to say that what lies within its slim covers represents a bloody minded treatise born of an archaic mindset wherefrom ruthless extermination awaits anyone or anything that stands in our way. Being a swordsman, Musashi speaks from a swordsman’s perspective, but what he has to teach far transcends the narrow focus of physical conflict resolution by cold steel. His Truth is no dusty anachronism.

The words “warrior” and “samurai” commonly conjure images that are the antithesis of peace. Of the latter is the added demeanor of disciplined killers brandishing hair trigger lethality. This is wrong thinking that can no more be applied to Mr. Kaufman’s latest work – The Way of the Modern Warrior – Living the Samurai Ideal in the 21st Century – than it could to his interpretation of Musashi. The samurai ideal is no bloody minded anachronistic mindset. It was, is, and always will be relevant in all aspects of human endeavour. It truly understands Death as defining all that is inevitable and necessary to Life. To quote The Way of the Modern Warrior –

The samurai ideal is contemplative towards the finality of a situation or physical death. Most people confuse the attitude of death with the extinguishing of life, and in this they are confused. The idea is not to die in vain. Enlightened people, samurai or not, prefer dying to be meaningful and purposeful. Yes there is the formality of physical death, but there are many other forms of “death” that occur in a person’s life. The death of an old way of thinking may be a more rational approach to the samurai ideal.

I’ve written before that Nature doesn’t waste resources creating different definitions for the same problem, thing, or situation. Death is like that. Think on this until next time, and add to the discussion here with the Wildest of abandon.

In addition to the immortal maxim that you must never knowingly sleep with anyone crazier than you are, there’s this to consider.

Bed Time

By LFM

Neither a fight nor a conscience belong in your bed.
Ask forgiveness instead of permissions.
Eschew deep discussions too near to lights out,
And avoid all nocturnal admissions.

In Norse mythology, Hugin (Thought) and Munin (Memory) are two Ravens that serve the God Odin, flying daily over the world and returning to him with the information they’ve gathered. It’s said that Odin was troubled by the prospect that one day, Hugin, Munin, or both might fail to return.

According to one translation of the Poetic Edda poem Grímnismál, Odin reveals –

Hugin and Munin fly each day
Over the spacious earth.
I fear for Hugin, that he come not back,
Yet more anxious am I for Munin.

A story was recently related to me in which the man telling it expressed dismay at how his wife’s heretofore flawless memory – so good that he relied on it exclusively at the expense of his own – had suddenly sunk into a sea of forgetfulness upon her reaching a specific age. This is not to say that she lost her mind or that she couldn’t remember her life experiences. Only that a woman who never had to write down appointments and who could remember what everyone wore at a social engagement twenty years ago could no longer do that reliably, if at all.

Well, I ran with that, put some LFM spin on it, and here’s the result.

Llewellyn’s Wife

By LFM

Llewellyn had a gorgeous wife,
Both beautiful and kind.
He loved her face, he loved her voice,
He loved her heart and mind.

He loved how he could trust his wife
To organize and plan.
To not forget a single thing.
He was a happy man!

Then his wife turned sixty,
And it traumatized poor Llew –
The day her fifties went away
Her memory went too.

This left Llew in quandary
For his memory was shit.
His wife’s was like a steel trap
So he’d just relied on it.

In forty years of marriage
He’d just left it all to her.
That memory could atrophe
Did not to him occur.

So now his wife is sixty-five
And Lew is eighty-two.
They can’t remember anything,
But what are they to do?

There are things they’ve put away
They’ll never see again,
And appointments that they’ll miss because
They can’t remember when.

But acceptance brought back happiness,
For though her memory’s dim,
To Llew she’s all she was before
And still remembers him.