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Thursday, September 3, 2015


waterfall road rock formation
The woman in Kentucky dominates facebook today, eclipsing Donald Trump's narcissistic posturing. His face is like a caricature of a cloud blowing the winter wind. He illustrates an old mountain saying, a blow, somebody who is a blowhard. I see a picture of Trump and I see a blow. He looks like he's blowing wind in all the pictures, which is what he's doing, bloviating over vocal chords, rapping verbal graffiti of surrealist chance. I am awed to see Karl Rove's strategic mind has chosen surrealism for this election round. He's playing with confusion. It's not easy for a hawk to catch a bird flying in a flock. The corporate press the playing field. At the same time, we have this woman in Kentucky martyring herself to an egoic version of God's will with the promise of right wing talk circuit, a book, money and fame. She's a comic case of pointing the finger at somebody, three fingers pointing back at self. She's been getting three fingers of it, too. Rather than embarrass her, it appears to be stroking her ego, making her proud. Don't bother to pray for me, send money. She might even appear on Pat Robertson's 700 Club tv show. They will have to do something with the hair first. Two bad-hair people in the front of the news this week.
trees along waterfall road
I remember the song by Jane's Addiction, late Eighties, Idiots Rule. It is so true that it reminds me of the truth in a maxim I learned from Jr Maxwell, Stay away from important people. Why? The importance is all self-importance. It's ego. Only. Why waste my time around people who are all about themselves? I saw a video clip of the top dog in Australia talking to people on a sidewalk in NY. Most of them didn't know of him. He told them to remember him, move to Australia and vote for him. I thought, how does a man stand and talk to strangers telling them to remember him because he's important? This is something else I don't want for myself, the illusion of importance. It embarrassed me for him to see him talk about his importance, which is nothing at all but a mental script. It's what politicians do. It's why I stay away from them. When a politician comes to town, I stay home that day. I laugh at myself at election times for taking them seriously. Which of the self-important people do I choose to affirm as most self-important? When not one of them is somebody I'd want to meet. 
ferns beside waterfall road
A meme I found on facebook of a Byzantine-like painting of God with clouds all around him, a halo over his head, him looking downward with concern, saying, "Sigh. Why do I always attract the crazy ones?" Isn't it so. Several of the faces in the republican clown bus claim God told them this and that. The television fake preachers God chooses to talk to make me question their integrity. It answers the question before I ask it. I've an idea this vision of God amounts to a man's ego in spiritual drag, a wolf in sheep's clothing. This is God speaking. Not. It was during last election, this one and that one said God told them one thing and another. I can't help but see it as the ultimate in hypocrisy. It's speaking hypocritically. However, the people listening know it's hypocritical, but it makes a good story and they want to believe it. It's like children's make-believe games, little girl Vada giving her doll a drink of milk from an empty bottle.  Making a story to entertain self. Performing in her own play she makes up as it goes along, one gesture to the next. Dolls interact with other dolls, talk to each other. She knows it is make-believe. The game is the fun in it. 
rock beside waterfall road
It takes a willing audience to suspend disbelief far enough to go along with the God-told-me story and pay money to keep it going. Enough people want to hear such stories to give an awful lot of story tellers an abundant living. I feel like that's cool. They're in a round together, people of like mind gathered like birds of a feather, a circle of energy everybody benefits from in their own ways. I'm happy for them. They're not fooling anybody who does not believe God talked to them, which is almost everybody. The God of my experience is silent, as God could only be. To speak to us, God takes a human birth, grows up a human and speaks what he has to say when it is time. His words are kept in gospels to be twisted by interpretation until the life is squeezed out of them over centuries of filtering through the limitations of the human mind. It doesn't do any good for God to speak to us. I feel like silence is the voice of God. The spirit world has too many deceiving spirits for me to count on taking something from the spirit world for God. The ego is a trickster too. Nobody can fake silence. Silence doesn't make any money. Everyone has access to it. It's common as air and equally essential.    
trees beside waterfall road


  1. Love your pictures TY and your words - God as silence - I resonate with this especially as I imagine myself in those pictures, in the woods and with the rocks and the land. Thank you.

  2. Thank you, Christine. I wrote myself a note a few days ago, "ignore the ridiculous." Telling self to give less mind to the ridiculous. When I started this piece, Kim Davis and Trump were in my mind and I refused to write about them, the ridiculous. They wouldn't leave my mind, so I started there, in a way articulating my own conflict with the ridiculous. The pictures I chose as the ultimate non-ridiculous to juxtapose the ridiculous. Living in a world of trees matters.