Losing the Mandate of Heaven

Summer                                                            Parker County Fair Moon

Outside a Denver Court House - A plea for jury nullification
Outside a Denver Court House – A plea for jury nullification

Dallas. Sniper shootings of police officers. With definite links to Minnesota. A downward spiral, a non-virtuous circle. Shootings begetting shootings. In effect now open warfare. I feel sad, mad. Guns, damn it. Guns. I’ve cited the statistics. They’re easily available and they show the peculiar American fascination with violence and firearms. We are outliers from a norm we should yearn to embrace.

A fragile link exists between public support and government sanctioned coercion. We give our military the right to blow things up and kill people. We give our legal system the right to imprison law breakers. We define the laws, through our legislators and city council members. We give our police guns and allow them to take people out of the common life to incarceration. But when the use of these coercive powers becomes suspect to the people at large then a social upheaval can result.

The American Revolution and the Civil War were both fought by combatants convinced that the current regime’s coercive powers had slipped well beyond the legitimate. In China the Emperor ruled by the mandate of heaven. If the people lost faith in their emperor, he lost the mandate of heaven and rebellion ensued.

fuck cops 2The compact between US police forces and the communities they’re sworn to protect has become frayed. The use of coercive force, especially deadly force, against members of African-American communities has become a steady drumbeat, a staccato loud enough to chip away faith in police powers. When the tactical use of violence continues without cease, and when the proportion of minority American prisoners continues to increase, then the criminal justice system may lose, may have already lost among the minority communities, the mandate of heaven. When that happens, rebellion will follow.

And, to add a match to the gasoline, the shooter in Dallas died at the pincers of a robot, pincers holding a bomb. This is too much like a domestic drone attack. Too impersonal. Too callous. It is the very opposite of the kind of response required. The fear, justified in my opinion, is that the police no longer view African-Americans as citizens, perhaps not even as people. Using robots reinforces both the depersonalization of citizen/police encounters and the fear of that depersonalization already so evident in our country.

 

Mussar

Summer                                                               Parker County Fair Moon

Mussar. I mentioned it a while back. It’s an old spiritual discipline in the Jewish tradition. Rabbi Jamie teaches a class each Thursday at 1 pm and Kate, the new member of Congregation Beth Evergreen, and I went today.

The big takeaway from today’s session for me was about stimulus and response. Mussar, the Rabbi said, is about lengthening the time between stimulus and response. The longer we can wait between an external or internal event and our response to it, the more options we can choose. Each month mussar practice encourages the practitioner to take a different middot, or virtue, and concentrate on it. This is an emphasis on character as a religious matter. The longer time between striking the match and lighting the fuse, the better chance we have of living out a virtuous character.

This was familiar ground for me and it felt good. I’ve learned from many spiritual practices over the course of my life and mussar will be beneficial, too.

 

 

Vat Brewed

Summer                                                                     Park County Fair Moon

Following on the last post, this very futuristic, sci-fi idea. What else will be grown in vats using a chemputer?

Indiana Proud

Sign situated directly across the street from where I saw a Klansman recruiting in the mid 1960's.
Sign situated directly across the street from where I saw a Klansman recruiting in the mid 1960’s.

Summer                                                          Park County Fair Moon

Indiana is indiscernible from a Southern state. If it walks like the Klan and burns crosses like the Klan, then…

from the Indianapolis Star

Sheridan, Indiana

“Don Christy doesn’t care what you think about his parade float. To him, the words “Lying African” in front of a depiction of President Barack Obama was funny.

Many, however, are questioning the town officials, police and organizers who allowed the 73-year-old Christy to drive the display in Monday’s Fourth of July parade in Sheridan, a rural community of 2,900 in northern Hamilton County, north of Indianapolis.

“I’m not a Democrat. I’m not a Republican,” Christy told IndyStar. “I’m a patriot.”

Christy wore a prison jumpsuit and a blond wig while driving a golf cart in the parade. The cart’s roof displayed signs in support of presumptive Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump. On the front was the head of a stuffed animal with a sign reading “African Lion.” On the back, a doll with an Obama mask was propped in a toilet with a sign reading “Lying African.””

Looking Back

Summer                                                           Park County Fair Moon

post op daze, July 8, 2015
post op daze, July 8, 2015

Two days until the anniversary of my prostate cancer surgery. Last year the whole summer was in cancer season and the 8th of July was the denouement, matters then slowly relaxing until the September PSA (prostate specific antigen) test which showed no identifiable antigens in my blood stream. At that point I declared cancer season finished.

Which does not mean the matter has been settled. I’m still getting quarterly PSA’s and will for another year, I believe, then six months until five years of negative findings. Then back to annual.

These days, almost a year beyond the most critical moments of cancer season, I rarely think about prostate cancer. The whole process was then and is now, surreal. No symptoms. Found on a prostate exam. Biopsy confirmed. Cancer. Yikes. Really? How can I have a life threatening condition that has no effect on me? Then, with the surgery, the cancer was gone. The threat that never presented itself to me removed by a robot. The most damaging and problematic aspects of the whole matter were sequelae from the surgery: the catheter, changed erections, incontinence. The latter is now a nuisance and usually not that. Point is that the disease itself caused me no trouble, but the treatment did. Odd.

I do not feel like a cancer survivor, though I am. Instead, I feel like the same guy as usual, sans prostate. I consider myself and feel myself to be in excellent health. Yes, aging has its insults, no doubt about that, but they come and recede. Of course, there will be a time when one doesn’t fade away. But that is not yet. At least not for me.

Summer                                                              Park County Fair Moon

A Buddhist monk approaches a burger food-truck and says “make me one with everything.”

The Buddhist monk pays with a $20 bill, which the vendor takes, puts in his cash box, and closes the lid.

“Where’s my change?” the monk asks.

The vendor replies, “change comes from within.”

Slowly and Over Time

Summer                                                                 New (Park County Fair) Moon

Jamie and Steve's Deck

Kate and I went to a fourth of July party at a friend of hers. The view from their deck (above) includes Pikes Peak in the very far distance. The general rule of urbanists is that the poor live in the place of least convenience. Here in the mountains that rule reverses and the wealthiest live on the peaks, or near them. Getting to their homes entails driving up and up and up, often the latter part of the way on gravel roads, then having a long driveway that also goes up and up and up.

This house has 6,000 square feet, cathedral ceilings, a wrap around deck, tables custom made from beetle kill pine. Its driveway is a one-car wide ribbon of asphalt that winds up from Pine Country Lane to a turn-around with a three-car garage and a vaulted doorway with a cast iron handle. The three floors all face this view. The main floor is at this level, bedrooms above and a floor with a music room on the level below, a walkout onto the grounds seen here.

Steve, husband to Kate’s friend Jamie, calls this, “Our little slice of heaven. Especially for a boy from the Bronx.” He amplified that last by talking about walking through the tunnel into Yankee Stadium and seeing green on the playing field. “Where I lived, it was all concrete. The green was remarkable. And now this.”

Parties are not my natural habitat. This one was no exception. I met a couple of people, Steve (not Jamie’s husband and one of three Steves at this party, two of them, including Jamie’s husband, named Steve Bernstein), an actuary, and Lou, a software engineer, in addition to Jamie and Steve. That’s an effective outing for me. Many of the people at the party were members of Congregation Beth Evergreen, so we’ll see them again and again. That’s the way I make friends, slowly and over time.

This loft is my natural habitat, books and maps, a computer, a place and time to write and read, to work on my Latin. This loft and these mountains. Becoming native to this place is, it occurs to me, identical in process to the way I make friends, slowly and over time: hiking the trails, driving the roads, being present as the seasons change, seeing the wildlife. I’m in no hurry for either one.

 

 

 

A Holiday Sunday

Summer                                                      Moon of the Summer Solstice

Caught the dawn on Black Mountain while getting the Sunday paper. A red cast to the usually green mountainscape. Multiple shades of green brighten yards, trees, creek sides, valleys and mountain slopes.

It’s cool here, 48 degrees. The third day of cooler, wet weather. National Forest Service fire signs post the key information about all this, Fire Hazard: low.

Kate has declared the pine pollen season over, saying there was no yellow rime on the driveway after this latest rain. May it be so. This fine lodgepole reproductive matter puts a light yellow cast on everything it touches. And, in a time when the windows are open, it touches almost everything.

Pinecam.com has been abuzz with holiday traffic postings. The interesting word, citiot, gets flung around. It’s true that the city folks, who make up the majority of tourists on Hwy. 285, don’t understand mountain driving, going alternately too fast, then too slow. Their frustration once 285 goes two lane (just beyond Conifer) finds many passing on yellow lines, following too close or exhibiting the finer elements of road rage.

Bailey and Conifer residents recount the amount of time it took them to get home on Friday, July 1st. One person told of leaving Denver at 4 pm and getting home around 7:15 pm, a journey of less than an hour without holiday travelers. Part of the congestion follows wrecks: too fast, too slow, passing in the wrong place, bumper riding and over use of the middle digit.

Otherwise up here on Shadow Mountain it’s a quiet holiday Sunday with the 4th tomorrow.

 

Garage Logic

Summer                                                                Moon of the Summer Solstice

Garage and shedThat garage looks better now. Over to Mountain Waste System’s transfer station outside Pine Junction. Backed up to a big trench, a mega trash compactor. Boards, pieces of old kitchen counter, some plastic bins, a too damaged drafting table, and a printer stand with a slot for the paper feed from a dot matrix printer went in. Would have been a perfect place to dispose of a body. Paid the guy $10 and left.

Shelving is up in the garage and has my journals and other too much stuff stuff from the loft. Kate put up a tire rack which now holds the four Blizzaks, ready for the next winter. Jon and Max (his buddy from Minneapolis) have started work on benches for our tools and the top for my multi-purpose cart. The whole space has become more organized though there’s still a good bit to go.

Meanwhile rain has come down most of the day. Eduardo rented a machine to augur in foundation supports for the new carport he’s building. A wet day for that sorta work.