To thine own self be true

there is an illusion of real intelligence and wisdom.
Human intelligence is often sadly lacking these daze as we come to depend more and more on machines.
There is a notable lack of focus as people, by and large, endlessly distract themselves to no useful or purposeful end with the ‘wonderful’ technology.
There is simply too much fire hydrant-style information with an inability to pull out what’s important or to make distinctions within whatever information. Often there is no sense of priority, insufficient intelligence, and zero brainpower at play.
Human should be the agents of whatever technology, not the other way around.

This Christmas, I wish all technology-users the gift of conscious autonomy and a life capable of freedom without total, mindless reliance on technology. It is users’ unique personal lives after all, not the machines, that is important and prime. Weren’t we all given our brains for some reason?

(a man who never did one damn good thing for anyone else in his flawed, colonialized life?)

……………………….

…contextualize, perspective, and balance, don’t you think?
John A. MacDonald’s name has been stripped from a prize because of a/the pc agenda, for no other reason.
Ever notice how the larger views and contexts (like John A. being the truest founder of this country that we know, live in, and take completely for granted) are flushed down the toilet in the name of smaller, specific agendas which totally ignore any goodness and positivity that individuals have done. These mighty deeds are completely ignored as these people become totally decontextualized from their original positions and deeds for others across the centuries.
No, the limits of pc-ing become so obvious when heroes, legends, and makers of what we enjoy today get trashed for perceived slights and injuries affecting smaller numbers or groups of people in the Big/ger Picture of history.
No sense of perspective, fairness, or balance apart from whatever justified causes and ‘payback’.
There has always been this metaphorical problem of throwing the baby out with the bathwater of redress and protest. I guess John A. was just s-it and did nothing good in his life for millions of Canadians in our history. He had zero positive qualities and only existed to become faddishly villainized by a limited/limiting bandwagon agenda.

Yeah, I miss the larger thinking and balanced-view perspectives in our ‘brave new’ pc world. That all said, John A. certainly did more than any agenda group in turning this northern wilderness of satellite provinces into one unified, relatively peaceful, civilized, un-gun-toting country distinct from the United States. Uh, maybe that’s why he’s been widely and fondly long remembered across this country over time.

When in doubt or before criticizing, always contextualize. People often have more than one side or flaw. Otherwise, as Shakespeare said, who would escape whipping?

This Christmas, I wish the pc-agendaists of all stripes the gifts of fairness, equality, critical thinking, balanced perspectives, and ability to contextualize before making  any judgements in 2018. Unity, not division, is the greater wisdom always regardless of whatever perceived or assumed wrongs. There are more/other larger views than those of narrow, limited/limiting agendas of one historical moment.

(“One touch of Nature makes the whole world kin.”–Shakespeare)

Tornadoes, hurricanes, wildfires, volcanic eruptions, etc.
We kid ourselves a lot of the time that we are in control of things, our lives, and worlds we inhabit.
But Nature remains the greater context in which we live and are ruled. (To say nothing of the greater perspective of space and how the Earth as we know it might someday end.)

In the meantime, we take a lot for granted including the illusions that we, each of us, will live forever, and that our ‘secure’ worlds will be permanent. The only constant is change, as reported here and elsewhere, many times. The fact thereof.
Meantime, whatever we can do to help or protect Nature is a worthwhile pursuit or purpose whether we adopt animals, plant trees, or join an environmental group protecting some aspect of Nature.

Nature–the greater perspective and context. What is our relationship with it? How can we make a contribution?

of cruelty and inhumanity on Earth daily and historically. That will never change. We can only do our best to help, not hurt those around us, particularly those closest to us. This is most manifest in December each year.

“We all have expiry dates. Some of us will die today, some tomorrow. Some next month, some 15 years from now. No one gets out alive.”

We should never kid ourselves or dwell in ignorant bliss. Especially at Christmas as we remember all the dead who are no longer in our lives. If I were to recommend one story for Christmas reading, it would be James Joyce’s “The Dead” from The Dubliners.

The excellent 1987 John Huston adaptation of Joyce’s classic story, starring his daughter. Make certain you see the 83 minute version from Amazon, not the 73 minute version.

This here skating biz,
it`s enough to put anyone
on edge.
Bladed ballet for some–
kissing ice for me.

My program is necessarily
a short one: squeezed feet
& aching sacro-iliac.
My style arched & forever
braced for collision.

Free skating–that`s me for sure.
It costs nothing to watch me
circle a pond monotonously.
Nothing fancy–no spins
jumps or lifts.

I love to take the air,
but know too well
the gravity of my situation.

I prefer my etchings on paper,
safe, solitary– a dance on flat white.
Rask, rask–my pen scrawls.

Far safer for everyone, I figure.
Who needs trials or stress fractures?
There`s enough ice & theatre elsewhere.

Still I dig my novice status,
something about lacing up those Bauers
& the piped-in oldies.

To say nothing of the prospect
of going solo again on
the Lake Placid of my brain.

…………………………………………….

Lake Placid-–past scene of a famous winter Olympics

Written and read at a Stroll of Poets event on a rink stage during a national ice skating tournament at the Northlands Agricom. As said earlier, some roles suit us and some we do in our limited individual ways. Ice skating, as seen on the sports channel, is a bladed ballet for some and very much a performance, like so many things we do in life. Writing this poem and writing, period, is a similar ‘risky’ performance–I’m probably better at that than when I’ve been on skates in the past. And yet it was fun to read at the event and to write a poem for it; in short, to imagine and perform vicariously. But as Dirty Harry said, “A man’s got to know his limitations.”

He slid down
the Sunday hill, below
his home in Vermont.

In a distant church
an organ proclaimed
it was Christmas.

The boy walked on
with his sled,
blown by the wind.

The pews were half-full
as the choir entered
two-by-two.

Snow began to fall
upon the desolate field.
The boy kept his season alone.

Eternity was white
on the steeple spire
as “The Carol of the Bells” began.

A boy saw his shadow
on the snow, the sun low
near the horizon.

The thick flakes
and his cold trek
had become A Question.

“Silent Night” began
and the choir lit
its candles

as the boy rushed
up the steps outside
to the tall open oak door.

He entered with his boots,
scarf and red tuque,
moving slowly up the aisle.

An old man at the back
of the church turned
to greet the boy

and held out a candle
to light the one
he offered him.

A girl in a black velvet dress
played her violin as the hymn
burned brighter now.

And afterward, across the field
boy and man walked as one
in the fading winter light.

The steeple bell pealed
softly behind them as they
climbed the hill toward home.

“The privilege of a lifetime is being who you are.” “The goal of the journey is to discover yourself as consciousness.”–Joseph Campbell

The comet lit up the sky for weeks and months, changing the lives of many. A very intense bright light from somewhere else. In many ways it was the dead greats who could have told you more about it, why and how it moved the way it did. The lovers too, who lived in and for one another. They knew something about the heat and light it gave off in cold winter sky where all was otherwise frost and frigidness.

The comet glowed and was most itself beyond language, beyond time, beyond music, beyond convention, beyond mere limits and limitations of all kinds. It was free and shone like a bright spirit ablaze, filling, nay flooding a room with its veritable light and love-giving radiance.

In the end, all one could say for sure was that it was very large and unlike anything one had ever known or been remotely close to before.

And so it blazed that December on many heads-down days while others worked and chased money and forgot their own vital incandescences. Finally, it was just a brilliant reminder of what might be possible if one broke free or chose a life in stars or dream. This comet, this great glowing spirit which simply was what it was, and nothing else.

Dazzling & bright
eye m just visiting
yr loco galaxy

a whimsical bit
of cosmic mass
from `somewhere else.`

Entering yr atmosphere
eye plunge comet-like
thru clouds of destiny

sidereal satellite
of the last 1/4
my magnitude unlimited.

Don`t look 2 long
at my radiants tho`
lest eye scorch yr
site 4 good–

From a mere 62 years ago.
How to make a decoration at home.
Supplies needed : 1 empty toilet paper roll, one piece of Xmas wrapping paper, a piece of ribbon, scissors (to cut the paper to size), glue, and awl (to punch the ribbon holes)