AND I SAW MY DEVIL

Later on the 16^th.

Maybe it is just the news and the reality, but I am jumpy and ill-at-ease this afternoon. Even hovering, if momentarily situationally, between sadness and depression. I don’t find any of the eternal lightness of being or any sunshine of any spotless mind. More like suspended in rank aspic. 

I don’t want to do anything, except maybe sleep.

Patrick and I took our bikes to the bike shop as planned. Maybe in the future, I can take a whirl on the bike when I feel so jumpy. There’s no really great place to go around here, but at least the traffic is low. We did notice more traffic, though, on the freeway when we drove to Trader Joe’s. Maybe the unease is not just mine.

I know some of it is the governing coup d’etat’s rapacious continual raping. That could make anyone feel pretty bad, if they were paying attention. And the sadness comes partly from walking meat suits who even in the face of life and death disaster choose to continue to feed on the less fortunate and kindlier. Again, this is something that does not compute with me, hence the disorientation and frustration. 

I am going to see if I can change this energy and find a scrap or leftover of joy or even pleasure for a bit. 

Slightly later. I cleaned my computer keyboard and screen, so that was something. Emily Nussbaum, who writes for The New Yorker posted this on Twitter: This makes me feel better. Think I will change into my gardening clothes and see if I can't get those hollyhock bulbs in the ground. 

Turns out that hollyhock bulbs need to be soaked before planting so I will get two (out of four) into the dirt once I finish this.

Another day when I am still on bed at noon. I was reading and snorkeling around the internet, sort of a sweet hangover from a good sleep and nice dreaming. I dreamt I was publishing a book. I found a groove and a voice and wrote about a third of it in one sitting. IRL, the NYT had published some international obituaries of people who have died from the virus. I found that Aurlus Mabele had died. Looking for more about him, I came across this video. Some good dance moves in here, too. Also, will cheer you up.

Besides the obituaries, there was an article about downward mobility in this country, which I have been trying to talk about for the last 10 or so years. Those long time readers of this blog will recall the number of times I have written about being a failure. Only one of four children in my family was upwardly mobile. I almost made it, but failed in the long run. I really wanted this to be part of Hilary Clinton's campaign, specifically addressing age discrimination and the lack of a social net, but I heard nary a word. (I must admit that I did not do a thorough examination of her platform.) 

Last night on our weekly yoga talk, we spent some time on the Yamas and Niyamas. When discussing brahmacharya Cindy asked asked what we were drawn to that might have excessive weight and distract us from our spiritual path. At the time, looking around a room that is quite literally strewn and stacked with books, I said media, meaning not the streaming or television sort, but also music and books. This morning, upon further reflection, I realized what I am really really drawn to is possibility and promise. 

On the surface, that doesn't seem like such a terrible or debilitating thing, but in my case, all of the books and music and long lists of things to watch, all of the piles of yarn and fabric and patterns and pattern books are all about possibility. The batterie de cuisine and all the cookbooks and dishes all speak to something I think I want, something I hope to do at some point. But the day to day is about maintaining the goods and possibilities, not manifesting them.

Another concept was dhriti, which in short is to act with determination. The question posed was what gets in the way of your dedication to the path. And for me, this is non-commitment. Commitment limits the wider range of possibilities. I guess there is some fear of missing out if I commit too much. And what if I get tired? Or change my mind? Or something better comes along?

Then one of my best and smartest friends called and we had one of those too wonderful and too rare far-ranging conversations which usually include current events, history, philosophy, religion, and music. He ended citing  The Return of the Grevious Angel #1

Won't you scratch my itch sweet Annie Rich
And welcome me back to town
Come out on your porch or I'll step into your parlour
And I'll show you how it all went down
Out with the truckers and the kickers and the cowboy angels
And a good saloon in every single town

Oh and I remember something you once told me
And I'll be damned if it did not come true
Twenty thousand roads I went down, down, down
And they all lead me straight back home to you

'Cause I headed West to grow up with the country
Across those prairies with those waves of grain
And I saw my devil, and I saw my deep blue sea
And I thought about a calico bonnet from Cheyenne to Tennessee

We flew straight across that river bridge, last night half past two
The switch-man wave his lantern goodbye and good day as we went roling through
Billboards and truck stops pass by the grievous angel
And now I know just what I have to do (pick for me James)

And the man on the radio won't leave me alone
He wants to take my money for something that I've never been shown
And I saw my devil, and I saw my deep blue see
And I thought about a calico bonnet from Cheyenne to Tennessee

The news I could bring I met up with the king
On his head an amphetamine crown
He talked about unbuckling that old bible belt
And lighted out for some desert town
Out with the truckers and the kickers and the cowboy angels
And a good saloon in every single town

Oh but I remember something you once told me
And I'll be damned if it did not come true
Twenty thousand roads I went down, down, down
And they all lead me straight back home to you
Twenty thousand roads I went down, down, down
And they all lead me straight back home to you

— Lyrics by Thomas Stanley Brown, music by Gram Parsons and Earl Montgomery