So much snow — Ellsberg
is in hospice, Carter too —
One by one, good men
For all of us there comes a time when oars fail, when there is nothing left to do but surrender to the great unknown.
(—Noelle Oxenhandler, “Go Bang Your Head Against the Wall”, Tricycle)
Overturned in dooryard
Under three hefty snowfalls
Two sleeping rowboats
In barn, above cowshed, four
Dry oars near closed umbrellas
He who loved change.
The story told by Ariston of Socrates, and his remarks when he came upon the book of Heraclitus, which Euripides brought him, I have mentioned in my Life of Socrates.17 12 However, Seleucus the grammarian says that a certain Croton relates in his book called The Diver that the said work of Heraclitus was first brought into Greece by one Crates, who further said it required a Delian diver not to be drowned in it.b The title given to it by some is The Muses,18 by others Concerning Nature; but Diodotus calls it19
A helm unerring for the rule of life;
others "a guide of conduct, the keel of the whole world, for one and all alike." We are told that, when asked why he kept silence, he replied, "Why, to let you chatter." Darius, too, was eager to make his acquaintance, and wrote to him as follows:20
13 "King Darius, son of Hystaspes, to Heraclitus the wise man of Ephesus, greeting.
"You are the author of a treatise On Nature which p421 is hard to understand and hard to interpret. In certain parts, if it be interpreted word for word, it seems to contain a power of speculation on the whole universe and all that goes on within it, which depends upon motion most divine; but for the most part judgement is suspended, so that even those who are the most conversant with literature are at a loss to know what is the right interpretation of your work. Accordingly King Darius, son of Hystaspes, wishes to enjoy your instruction and Greek culture. Come then with all speed to see me at my palace. 14 For the Greeks as a rule are not prone to mark their wise men; nay, they neglect their excellent precepts which make for good hearing and learning. But at my court there is secured for you every privilege and daily conversation of a good and worthy kind, and a life in keeping with your counsels."
"Heraclitus of Ephesus to King Darius, son of Hystaspes, greeting.
"All men upon earth hold aloof from truth and justice, while, by reason of wicked folly, they devote themselves to avarice and thirst for popularity. But I, being forgetful of all wickedness, shunning the general satiety which is closely joined with envy, and because I have a horror of splendour, could not come to Persia, being content with little, when that little is to my mind."
So independent was he even when dealing with a king.
Becomes, off and on, reluctant to change.
Becoming this or that is where change goes to remain itself.
Throughout and as consequence to causes and conditions.
As his thought-filled rival said, “Nothing changes.” (Parmenides)
Such favored pre-Socratics!
(by Maxine Scates)
The dead are breathing inside me now,
everything slowing to the pace of the newt
crawling across the bricks, the old cat watching,
the newt too slow for even him
as the crack in the earth opens and the roots
rise up to trip me. Fire lives in me
and the fear of fire, plague and the fear
of plague, death and the fear of death
though only it will silence me. I remember
the abandoned freight cars
standing on unused tracks, doors open.
I saw through them to the stubbled fields
beyond. The owl sitting on its fencepost late
in the day, the creek and its flowing,
the pied horse in its pasture—I was afraid
I’d lose them. If I could only do just this,
the long days filled, me longing, in pursuit
of something exquisite that eludes me, always
clumsy, never knowing the manners
of the place I have entered
(Poem, “Look”, © 2023 by Maxine Scates. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on March 2, 2023, by the Academy of American Poets)
There’s something about facts. Sooner or later they break through concrete and asphalt like natural life after a long time covered over with grievance expedience — the urge of truth breaks through the most coarse covering to reappear.
We continue to be assaulted by the mendacity and malignant utterances of a man who was president and his followers who do not care to know better, a man who, inconceivably, could become president again. The incarceration of truth, the silencing of truth-telling, is a felonious injustice.
There are instances of the cry for parole.
But that protest is unlikely to change the behavior of right-wing members of Congress. Yesterday, Representatives Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-GA) and Mark Green (R-TN) blamed the Biden administration for the deaths of Caleb and Kyler Kiessling from fentanyl poisoning after their mother, an attorney and conservative activist, testified before the House Committee on Homeland Security. But the young men, along with 17-year-old Sophia Harris, died in July 2020, when Trump was president.
When senior CNN reporter Daniel Dale asked Greene’s office why she had blamed Biden for the deaths, her congressional spokesperson, Nick Dyer, “responded by saying lots of people have died from drugs under Biden and ‘do you think they give a f*ck about your bullsh*t fact checking?’” Dale also asked him to comment on Greene’s lies about the 2020 presidential election yesterday. Dyer answered: “F*ck off.
(Heather Cox Richardson, 1mar23) , https://heathercoxrichardson.substack.com/p/march-1-2023?utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email
We sorrow for Kyler and Sophia. We wish them well in their journey through the disappearing unknown of death.
As for those of us temporarily remaining visible and engaged in the jousting turmoil of verition and deception, there’s something inside us, however covered over by ignorance and ill-will, that insinuates upward and outward until, finally, it emerges into light and fresh air.
Et voilà — il est maintenant temps de regarder attentivement, et de faire confiance.
(And there you go — now is the time to look carefully, and trust.)
Truth, it is said, sets free.
But only if you value freedom.
Dire la vérité.
(To tell the truth.)
Prison this morning
Talk about passion, and the
Inside outside dream —
We think mind is inside us
And the world outside us . . . Ha!
Walking into bookshed today to water plants - I was greeted and surprised by the beautiful blooming christmas cactus that was my Mother's. We would see it on sunday evenings in winter blooming radiant. So wanted to send a gift from bookshed delight today to you all.
Self: What do you want?
The doctrine of not-self (anatta) is one of the most central, and befuddling, concepts in all of the dharma—one that often becomes a stumbling block for Western practitioners.
What does it really mean to say, “All phenomena are not-self”? And how do we make skillful use of both self and not-self along the path of awakening? (Tricycle email)
Self: You can go now.
Not-self: I’m not here. You’re delusional, talking to what-is not here.
Self: I’ve thought so.
Not-self: Thinking doesn’t make it so.
Self: So, this is goodbye?
Not-self: You’re talking to your self, not me. I’m not here.
. . .
[exeunt omnes; scene]