LINES IN THE SKY OF THE MIND

1:30pm

This is one of the most unusual sights of my life. I've never seen six parallel lines cross the sky to horizon and not fade for a very long time. I have seen the crosshatching in the sky of chemtrails. I saw them from Pine Swamp looking like they were possibly over Wilkes county. The parallel lines above are in the same part of the sky I saw the crosshatching. They went NE to SW. Basic deduction points to chemtrails. This picture was taken about 1:30 looking south. The bright light is the sun. I don't know that I've ever seen contrails stretch that far. In times of commuter traffic, the contrails go all over the sky like a web spun by a spider on lsd. The sky looks completely out of order in the early mornings of winter, yet I look at them and see that it is a very distinct order. If I knew where the planes were going to and from, I'd see perfect order in the lines. It's one of those odd things about civilization in our time, looking completely out of order and being in perfect order. Getting a little closer, it's looking something like seeing the world around us a chaos of free will and self-advertising. It appears so much out of order it justifies replacing democracy with fascism. Yet, when I look at it from afar, from a metaphorical God's eye view, it's in perfect order, I think of the play of humanity all over the earth something like a seemingly infinite Persian carpet with the design slowly and constantly changing. When I see the parallel lines in the sky in this light, it's just another interesting thing to see. When I think about them as chemtrails and what they're doing to us, I want the whole of the Western world's economy to collapse, let the American-Israeli war on the Arab world begin in earnest and take it so far it depletes humanity to survivors, the start-over place. Reset. I waver between these two points of view.

 

1:30pm

 

One thing I've learned along the way is worst-case scenarios seldom work out. I've also learned that when I dread going someplace, like a gathering of white people standing up and talking fast as they can go, it turns out to be a fun occasion I'm glad I went to. It's actually turned out that the more I dread something, the more I enjoy it. I talk to myself about giving up dread, but it creeps in anyway. I don't pay attention to it much anymore, by now seeing the dread as a measure of good times ahead. In like manner, I can tell myself that dread of the direction corporate government has taken us by making the laws against us, will turn out all right. The only way I can see that happening is spontaneous revolt from all the 99%. I don't see that happening, but I also don't see the future. That's where I jump off this track of thinking. The unforeseen is around every corner. Who would have ever guessed a pope would come onto the scene in this time bypassing centuries of dogma and corruption to bring the red lettered words in the gospels up to date? Its no longer about sheep and goats, but Wall Street and massive poverty around the globe. He is even being threatened by rich American Catholics, remembering the Sicilian mafia has a powerful grip on the Vatican, and he takes the threats as nothing. He may die soon of "natural" causes, but he has already reformed the Church. Pope Francis has become for me a reminder not to assess the future with any notion of certainty. Obama came on as a big surprise, but the surprise soon fell away. It was a faux surprise. 

 

1:30pm

 

The part I didn't see coming about Obama, though in hindsight it's obvious, is how definitively he brought racism to the surface in white American men. And what the white men don't get is he's there for them, not the black men. Obama promised change, though the only change I see that I can attribute to him is he brought racism to the surface in America. It wasn't his agenda to start that fire. It took a life of its own because it needed to bubble to the surface. It was time. Up from the grave of denial. Poe's story, The Fall of the House of Usher, makes a good illustration of how denial functions. Herman Melville's white whale that sinks the ship of state, the ship of men from around the world, every race, fetching whale oil that was used for light in the time before unforeseen electricity, was obsessive white man racism in the time before the Civil War. I felt like Melville wrote the story as a warning that the hate in the air around racism had a strong potential to sink American democracy. The Civil War was next. We're in that time again where racism is threatening to sink the ship of state. Then it was a civil war; now it's corporate police state and prisons, glossed as security by corporate press. It looks like everything is going down the metaphorical drain, and it may be, for all I know. I see something entirely different when I pull away from it and remind myself it is part of the Divine Plan, whatever that is, something we're only able to see in hindsight, if then. I tend to see this time we're going through as the waist of the hourglass from one level of collective consciousness into a whole new understanding of ourselves in the cosmos, a few at a time until all make it through.      

 

11:30am

I saw this scene earlier in the day, again NE to SW, two hours before seeing the newer ones pictured above. The odd part about this view is that I was not able to find the trails the other side of the cloud it looks like they're coming out of. They stretched all the way across the sky, the cloud their apparent origin. This was the best the camera's frame could do. I'm struck by how what looks like vapor trails stay together like a stream of water. I've not seen any do this before. Could it be a light show put on by UFOs to attract our attention? Back in the summer, I was riding back from town on hwy 18 in Whitehead with Lucas and Judy Carpenter. We were facing west toward Ashe county, and five very distinct white lines looked like they were going straight up from beyond Jane Taylor mountain, though much further, then leveled at the same altitude and flew in a straight line above us across the sky, west to east, approximately. None of us could find a source for the white lines, much broader and thicker than contrails. We regretted not having camera or binoculars. We all have aging eyes, of course, but we can still see a silver plane in the sky. The sources of the trails were evidently too small for us to see. They puzzled us until we agreed we had nothing to go by for what it might be. White, very unnatural contrails flying in military formation. We wondered if they might be chemtrail drones. It was CIA or UFO; either one was out of our league. We agreed it is more interesting to sit on the deck with wine, look at the trees and sky, and talk about our everyday life experiences, than to fuss over something we'll never know what it was.   

 

 

 

 

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DONKEY KARMA

donkey jack in the snow

 

A little bit of snowfall after dark last night delivered a second half inch. A couple days ago we received a half inch in the night. It was gone by end of  next day, except for in shadows. I understand in some places this morning the road was ice. Not long after dark last night, white headlights went down the road followed by red taillights giving enough light to see several red snowflakes following the car. This morning the ground was white again, and snow lined the bigger tree branches. It was not a wet snow that sticks where it lands, but more like a dry snow, except the flakes stuck together too much to drift. It was slick to walk on. It made a thin film of ice underfoot, though was easy to walk on in the meadow. The donkeys left prints like it was beach sand. They don't seem concerned by the cold. Their coat is full. I suppose they keep each other warm in the night. They appear to be acclimatized. I like that they look comfortable at home by now. Jack and Jenny look to be comfortable with each other. Jenny still gets antsy with him when he's too close. She's the same with the calf. She starts hopping up and down in back, kicking light jabs, not serious, just to say, Outta my space, in body language. I've noticed in the last few days Jenny keeps her ears back much of the time. Even when she's alone. It's not for me the ears are back. I can walk beside her carrying hay out into the meadow, her ears are back. She doesn't have a problem with me being too close to her hay. My feeling is she's keeping Jack informed to stay back.

 

calf 21 and jenny

 

The calf has taken up with Jenny for its friend. Jenny appears to have some feeling for the calf. I see them together fairly often. The calf's loneliness seems to have cleared up by now. It has taken to Jenny and Jack in its grief losing its friend. The donkeys know 21 lost its friend. They lost their friend too. The calf appears to be showing a little bit of awareness, like it is waking out of the daze I've only known it to be in. I feel like Jenny has something to do with this. It looks like the calf is drawn to her as something like an older cousin. Jenny's attitude toward the calf is it's ok if the calf wants to hang around her, just respect her space, don't be bumping her or pressing her. Sometimes I see the calf at the big round bale of hay by itself and notice it doesn't have the heavy air of loneliness about it. It snuggles with Jenny and Jack in the night. I have the feeling Jenny feels some compassion for the lonesome calf. The calf is going into a new growth phase, becoming more aware, paying attention. It's more alert since it's been subject to Jenny's care. I'm glad to see Jenny is extending herself to the calf. Their closeness might salve Jenny's loss of her goat friend, too. I enjoy watching their interactions. Jenny is Alpha donkey in the meadow and keeps the calf and Jack aware of her status. The calf gets tamer from watching Jack and Jenny interact with me. I include the calf when I take carrots to Jack and Jenny, and give the calf grain with the donkeys. The three individuals in the meadow give the appearance that they are independent individuals and they identify with each other as meadow partners, a herd.  

 

jack and jenny yin yang

 

Justin pointed out yesterday that Jenny might be what is called a mammoth donkey. I googled it and found Jenny does indeed have mammoth donkey in her. Mammoths are huge donkeys with longer hair. They are the size of a horse, and are ridden like horses. Jenny looks like she might have half or quarter mammoth in her. Jack seems more like donkey donkey. Jack's forehead is broader than Jenny's. Jenny's whole head is narrower than Jack's and favors a horse's head. You can see the silhouette of her equine head below, in the shadow on her shoulder. Jenny and Jack have confirmed for me what I learned from dogs and cats, that love is the best form of training. I've made no effort to "train" either of the donkeys in any conscious way. I break carrots into three pieces and hold them for the donkeys without apprehension anymore that a finger or thumb may get bit. I never even feel their lips with my fingers. They take the carrot with their teeth that don't touch fingertips. Today, after putting hay down for Jenny, I walked around behind her up close to see what she'd do. Nothing. She seems as  comfortable with me now as Jack is. Earlier, carrying an armload of hay into the meadow, Jack walked up between Jenny and me. Jenny started hopping up and down behind, ears back, grunting at him to get out of her space. I did not move out of the way this time. I stayed where I was to see how aware she was of not kicking me. She didn't even show a suggestion she might kick me. She sent Jack on his way and kept her place beside me, ears back telling Jack it's Alpha Donkey's place next to the ice cream man.

 

jenny mammoth donkey mix

 

I know the affection I receive from my donkey friends is for being the ice cream man. I feed them and give them treats. The old saying I remember from childhood, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, works with the four-leggeds, too. I feed them, they appreciate it. I treat them with respect and they treat me with respect. I regard them with a loving feeling and they regard me the same. I saw a video on one of the fail compilations on YouTube of a man whipping a big goat. He turned to walk away and the goat charged him with the force it would use to hit another goat. It knocked him on his face in the dirt. Somebody might say animals can't love, but I say that somebody has a different notion of the soul from mine. In my view of the soul, its very nature is love. Love responds to love. Soul responds to soul. I have one hundred percent confidence neither Jenny nor Jack would charge me and knock me down. I don't question that they might knock me down in fun, except that by now they know my weight, my vulnerabilities, that I am not as hardy as they are. I don't talk much about the donkeys where love is concerned. A lot of people don't believe animals are souls because of a preacher whose head is still in colonial times when only white humans had souls. I speak into Jenny's nostrils, "I love you darlin Jen," and her eye gives me a look that says she understood my meaning and feels the same toward me. If she were a cat, she would be purring. The meadow has become a love arena for me. I make eye contact every day with both of them, and every day our hearts touch. I don't want to train them to jump through rings of fire. I show them that they can trust me and voila: I can trust them. I do unto them as I would have them do unto me, and wha'd'ya know, they do as I would want them to.

 

jack

 

 

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TURNING AWAY FROM THE FALSE

 

Frequently, almost daily, on facebook I see people and organizations with agendas telling me to get angry because the ocean has become a sewer, because the bees are dying, because the trees that make oxygen are being mowed like grass, because we have been hoodwinked into accepting police state in place of democracy. As you know, it's an infinite list. I choose not to get angry. It's the same as cussing at the sky because I didn't get my way. A month or more ago, I resolved to pay less attention to the news and commentary, not as a New Year's resolution, but because I mean it. I hear the news now, but give it no more response than, "Of course." Stupid results from stupid decisions? Of course. I saw "eco warrior" a little bit ago pressing for action to stop polluting the oceans. Like I can stop international corporations from doing anything, or I can stop Japan from shooting whales, or I can stop Florida from legalizing murder, or I can stop China from invading Tibet sixty-some years ago, or I can stop racism in Russia, or I can get democracy back in America. It's not even a matter of powerlessness. That's only perceived. That mind only takes my power when I give it my power. My power is my attention. I withdraw my mind from the false. First thing I do when I want to clear my life of false influences, the news is the most obvious first deletion. I'm not talking about not hearing the news. I mean hearing it with such dispassion I don't even laugh. I hear about another law made by our corporate supreme court, another nail in the lid of democracy's coffin, I receive it the same as hearing Silvio Berlusconi was caught in Italy partaking of the privileges of power.  

 

?

 

 

I mentally embrace Obama because the racists hate him so much. I can tolerate looking at a picture of him about as long as I can tolerate a picture of Dick Cheney, a nanosecond. It's not the news stories themselves or the individuals involved as much as it is the entire belief system they advertise and embody. I'm not of that mind, so why pay attention to it? Why get angry about it? There is never anything in the realm of "the media" that is from happy instead of sorrow. When they do happy, it's false, like Duck Dynasty. I've been questioning myself over the last months for giving attention to the world of mass manipulation by way of media, even just watching it from afar. I can't realistically want anything for the world at large. I can be one of many praying for peace, which I believe works. It's just that the train is so long it takes a very long time for a habit of mind that goes all the way back to pre-civilization to slow its momentum toward stopping some time in the unforeseeable future. The world that the world of media focuses on is not my world. It is a members-only mind that I don't want to be a part of. It's about money, greed, power and the rest of the "seven deadly sins." By which I mean it is simply false, all of it. I don't care to have people like that in my own immediate world of people I know and interact with. So why should I pay attention to them because they have a spot in national news? It's only the false people media pays attention to. I am not attracted to people I think of as climbers, always wanting more money, groveling for it, kissing ass up the ladder. I stay away from those people in my everyday life, so why give the ones on the news my attention? Their world is not my world.

 

 

 

 

An image I saw a week or so ago stays with me symbolic of the false that is the whole media circus. American television pop star basketball egomaniac, Dennis Rodman, drunk, sings Happy Birthday to Kim Jong Un of North Korea, who watches with contempt in his eyes. Nothing but fakery going on. What can I do? What's the point of even having an opinion? Opinions are as nothing as a dream of sugarplum fairies. The best I know to do when I see something like Rodman and Un is laugh and let it go. Beavis and Butthead. A cartoon in everyday life. Dysfunctional people famous for their dysfunction. What do I care? I know someone who puts up links on facebook, several a day, to every sorrowful cause in the world. I think she must google something like sorrowful causes. I knew plenty of sorrow was going around the earth, but nothing like the catalog she's found. Girls and circumcision in Africa, Walmart sweatshops in Asia, are only the most obvious ones to come to mind. How righteous it has become to be for gay marriage; now, for raising the minimum wage; next, for marijuana legalization. It's like the Fifties beatnik slang, Be there or be square, forefingers of both hands indicating a square. If you're not into legalizing this month's pop cause, you're nowhere, definitely uncool. Where did that come from? This pop zeal for getting everybody to think alike. It's new in American conformity. Now evil is being attributed to racists. Phil Robertson of Duck Dynasty cannot hold my attention for a minute on his tv show or on the news. What do I care what he said? What do I care what's the latest you-gotta-or-you're-square belief? That's for the people who voluntarily want to pay attention. Whatever it's form of media, it comes with an on/off switch. I have a choice. I don't have to turn it on. My car has an excellent motor I would rather listen to than anything available on the radio, unless Diane Rehm is interviewing Ralph Stanley again.  I listen to the monitor kerosene heater's fan at home. It sounds like crickets in the distance. Or maybe it's the field of crickets between my ears.

 

 

 

None of that is my world. My world is the people I know, the people I interact with, people I see in passing, Whitehead, the grocery store, coffee shop, drugstore, highways and the county line for the outside boundary. That line defines my world. My part of that world is Waterfall Road. In my world, I was driving a tenth of a mile from the house and saw a red-tail hawk cross the road in front of me, sailing like an arrow, as they do. This particular red-tail is Justin's hunting friend. It visits him when he is in his deer stand. It will glide to a branch unnaturally close to him, and sit. He said within a few minutes a deer would walk into his arena. The hawk sat on the branch and watched him shoot the deer. It did not fly away. This has happened so many times with Justin that he has come to see the hawk his hunting companion. The hawk sits on the telephone wire that spans the donkey meadow, scanning for mice. The donkeys and the calf graze the hay, their shadows on the ground beside them. A family of red squirrels live in a white pine behind the house, away from the birdfeeders. The red squirrels use one feeder and a family of gray squirrels from the woods across the road go to the other. They evidently have an agreement worked out. The squirrels crawl around the squirrel guards. The guards only stop the chipmunks. If they could get into the bird feeders, that would be it. The squirrels don't monopolize the feeders. They allow the birds some too. I throw a good bit on the ground to occupy the squirrels so they don't need the feeders. This is my peaceable kingdom. This is my world. I'm at peace with everyone I know inside myself. I don't need that world of mass manipulation to bring me down. The world that is my home has a lot of happy in it.   

 

 

 

 

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A POEM BY LUCAS CARPENTER

philippe petit

 

 

 

     YOUNG MAN ON A UNICYCLE

He emerged from the glare of late afternoon sun,

first as a shimmer, then a black silhouette

resolving hypnotically into focus.

So then there's that moment

when the utterly unexpected

(thankfully shorn of danger)

takes even imagination by surprise

and demands something (you know not what)

from you, but the best I can do

(while saving this sudden circus vision

for stories somewhere else)

is a startled stare, reflexive smile,

and a shuffle dance step I made up.

Not taken aback he balanced before me,

tilting forward, backward, back and forth,

the wheel never making a full turn.

He raised his arms like an evangelical in ecstasy

before heading back down the road that takes us home.

                                               ---Lucas Carpenter

philippe petit

 

 

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