OUT OF THE FLATLANDS AND ONTO THE SEA

Another blast from my past:

I spoke in Meeting about being a flatlander from a landlocked place and my ongoing fascination with the tides and moods of the ocean, leading into my first experience on a sailboat which was also my first experience out on the Atlantic and my first time of seeing a whale, which popped up in front of us.

I then mentioned another trip when my boss asked me to take the till and my surprise at feeling the wind pull the sailboat in one direction while the current tried to turn it in the opposite and how I was trying to steer to a compass point in-between – me, who would rather avoid conflict. On top of it all, it was a day when we could not see our destination, the Isle of Shoals, but had to trust our maps and calculations. Then, too, Peter’s girlfriend laughed, realizing my fear of having the boat be blown over. “Don’t worry,” she said. “If the boat tips that far, the sails will deflate and we’ll right again.” She paused before adding, “Besides, if there’s really a big gust, there’s nothing you can do about it. That’s how I lost my boat.”

As I spoke, I admitted the associations of wind to spirit (inspiration) and, as I’d now add, intellect, and of water to emotions and the unseen, while we are here in our own little vessels steering in the hope of an unseen destination.

Afterward, one Friend told me of the importance of finding that point of critical tension in our lives, where things can be accomplished. I now see this in contrast to the Tao, path of least resistance or way of falling water.

A second round of memories involves an ability to choose the right sail or combination of sails to fit the wind, as well as the lulls. The emerging harmony, too, between the winds and the waves, the lift and fall along the way.

AVOIDING THE CROWDS IN SEASON

At the mouth of the Piscataqua River downstream from where I live, Fort Foster has long guarded the entrance to Portsmouth Harbor. It’s now a town park.

By purchasing a season pass each year, I’ve come to consider it my private patch on the ocean — one shared with some folks who’ve become sunny friends as we swim and then warm in the rays.

The rocky shoreline allows a fine introduction to tide pool life, while the pebble beaches have their own experience. There are also some sandy pocket beaches and a trail to meander while looking out over the cobalt Atlantic.

About as unspoiled as it gets.
About as unspoiled as it gets.
An observation bunker, from World War II, now has a picnic pavilion added for groups to use by reservation.
An observation bunker, from World War II, now has a picnic pavilion added for groups to use by reservation.

TRUMPED BY … McCAIN?

Is the Donald about to go Missing in Action? Or is he just a Prisoner of Wordiness?

Or, more critically, did he just misjudge his fan base … and their power to fire him?

We didn’t expect anything this damaging to Trump’s White House campaign this early in the race. He already has the largest paid Republican staff in the state. Who knows about real grassroots volunteer motion. But I, for one, expect a new frontrunner each week on the GOP side … a lot like the last time around. And maybe the time before that.

Who will be the next to implode? Please stay tuned. And it’s just beginning to be summer, heating up, in New Hampshire. It really can be a sport to watch.

RUNNING THROUGH CHEATGRASS

The grass grew tall in tawny tufts. One bunch here, another over there. Sometimes in the company of sagebrush.

~*~

Here a man will learn to pace himself more steadily. To watch for the rattlesnake, especially at river’s edge. To recalibrate his vision to the American Far West, where natural beauty assumes such spectacular proportions few notice the thinness at hand. The spider will teach all this. Clarity, like the desert itself, strips away to essentials. Sweeps away clutter. In what appears sparse, the man will gaze for episodes of miniature grace. Even elegance.

~*~

Kokopelli 1For a free copy of my newest novel, click here.

WAKING UP, AT LAST, TO REALITY

Gee, it’s rather incredible to hear all the new voices finally recognizing that this Supreme Court, with its longest members and majority appointed by their side, is indeed running wild.

Activist? Where were they when the high bench, for the first time in history, crowned a president? Or later transformed our republic into a government by the super-rich, for the super-rich, and of the super-rich, as it has in Citizens United?

Utter silence.

But now, with a few recent flukes in its record, just listen to the outrage. If you’re trying to make sense of their decisions, good luck.

You can count me among the outraged, long ago – when our cries were ignored. When esteemed law school deans and professors warned of the top justices’ threats to our very legal system and its foundations. When we scratched our heads for any underlying sustained rudder in their course from one ruling to the next.

I’d crow now, except that the problem remains.

In its polarized atmosphere, the question keeps coming down to the swing vote — and it’s like watching a pinball machine. Which flipper will sway the course of action? The question everyone asks is who was the swing vote this time?

Who, even before Why.

With every ruling, we watch, often with horror. Will it be on the side of broad justice or instead on the side of big money? Will it be for the common American and justice for all? Or for something else, however vaguely defined?

My conclusion? What we’re seeing is not so much a matter of deciding case by case on its merits as it is an imposition of personalities from the bench. An opinion that includes “just ask a hippie” is hard to take seriously, no matter if you agree or disagree with the vote. America needs more judges of the people, for the people, and by the people throughout its ranks — more humanity and compassion rather than pompous circumstance. Not more political ideologues for the wealthy, as Republican senators have been doing in asserting privilege to obstruct presidential nominations. They even cloak themselves in anonymity in doing so without any grounds whatsoever.

When a Senate majority seeks a rubber-stamp to endorse one side only, perhaps an activist court is a foregone conclusion. And as long as we’re stuck with a Supreme Court lacking a stable center, we’ll have to wonder where the real authority is. The kind that endures rather than sways in the wind.

Maybe, in the new outcry, we in the public can come together. Wouldn’t that be something?

 

 

MORE THAN TWO SIDES

I’m tempted to say there are two sides to the mountain – a wet one and a dry one. Or even the side you see and the one you don’t. Or what’s ahead of you and what’s behind.

But none of that’s quite accurate.

You could, for one thing, be standing on the summit.

Or you could realize it’s one continuing side, like a Mobius strip, to explore. Even in your mind.

~*~

Mountain 1For a set of related poems, click here.

THERE WENT THE WEEK

A call to my cell phone the other Monday threw me for a loop. I was on the way back from my daily swim when I got the news that the first round of three cords of stove wood was on the way.

What it meant was that one end of our driveway would soon be buried in cut and split wood and my plans for the rest of the week would drastically change. Except for one day of thunderstorms and rain, I’d be stacking – always a lesson in the process of writing and revising, actually, including its exercises in structure and observation. Do it right, and it’s solid for seasoning into several winters. Sloppy, and it all falls apart.

Among my other thoughts was the question of how many more years I might be doing this. The wood felt heavier than I remembered. Even with my new routine of daily exercise, achy muscles and joints started appearing. At least I had the perspective of knowing how long you just have to keep plugging away before you notice any progress – and then, somewhere in a sensation of futility, you might experience that flash of realizing you’re making progress. The second half usually seems to go faster than the first half, too, unless you get overly anxious.

Now I sit back and admire that wall of stacked fuel – the one I’ll take down, piece by piece, all too quickly some winter.

REACHING FOR A HEADLINE

Being employed as a newspaper editor meant I had to be scrupulous about avoiding the slightest appearance of partisanship in public. Too many people assume bias on any pretext and extend that to an assumption you cannot hear their position fairly. In reality, these are the ones who want you to be actively in their group rather than neutral in reporting both sides.

Admittedly, I’ve long felt a tension between avoiding any appearance of having a position and upholding moral values. Can you be objective without any sense of what’s true or how it all fits together?

For many of us, there are unwritten rules about what’s acceptable and what’s not, and the code I followed came largely from the Kansas City Times, where your community participation is limited largely to your church. I wonder how it would have handled my joining a denomination known for its social justice witness – one where I could gently encourage others in the congregation to activism, even if I could not act with them.

Early on, as a cub reporter, I learned you cannot wear a candidate’s button or apply the bumper sticker, even if you can distance yourself in critical thinking. Some fine journalists refrain from even voting in elections, which in turn raises some questions about democratic responsibility in the aftermath.

Retirement, though, is allowing me to slowly move away from that, and this is the first time in my quarter-century-plus in the Granite State I’m attending presidential primary events – on both sides of the political divide, at that.

It’s been eye-opening.

My wife, on the other hand, is an old-pro at these things and often explains nuances to me, the one with the degree in political science. (OK, my focus was on political theory and policy analysis rather than the nitty-gritty of campaigning, elections, and legislative maneuvers.) And one daughter, seasoned in the behind-the-scenes work of running a candidate for office, has convinced me of the importance of organization, planning, and staff discipline.

It’s still early in the fray – a wonderful opportunity to observe, actually. And it’s as much fun to watch the crowd, large or small, as it is the candidate or staff. They cover the range.

One thing I notice, though, is the working press and the video crews. CNN, C-SPAN, and, I’m guessing, MSNBC News have a trio of cameras side by side staffed by college-fresh crews just about everywhere. Just in case? Who knows. The metro reporters, in their suits and loose ties (if that), are looking for the telling detail, likely for a wrap-up later, while the frumpier local papers just want a story for the next edition, daily or weekly.

And that’s had me wondering just how I would cover the typical event. Most of these appearances, after all, are pretty standard repetition of policy positions easily available online. There’s nothing new there – and thus no news.

Well, the Q-and-A portion in what many bill as a town meeting can be interesting, if the questioners are actually from the public and not just campaign plants.

We got a flash of that yesterday at Dover City Hall when Hillary Clinton was heckled by a juvenile but orchestrated ban-fracking group. From everything we saw, she responded admirably, calmly, professionally – and got a loud, standing ovation in response. Not that you’d know that part from the headlines or news stories.

The strident outburst seized the coverage and nearly hijacked the event. But it was also allowed to remain, standing silently, with its banner, in one corner of the hall. Did it advance its cause?

I doubt it. We come to these appearances to hear positions, not to dictate their answers. We want honesty, not pandering.

As we heard Ohio Governor John Kasich say earlier in the week, in front of a much smaller gathering, New Hampshire voters serve as an X-ray machine, looking at both a candidate’s outer and inner qualities. He’s right. It’s not a responsibility we take easily. Just consider standing more than an hour in a long line snaking through the steamy summer confines of a city hall corridor before standing another hour-and-a-half through the event itself, as the audience did for Hillary.

I’d urge the protesters, by the way, to take their banner and voices to stand outside the Republican hopefuls’ events and see where that goes.

In the meantime, I’m reminded of the gap between what is often experienced in a situation like this and what we read of it in the news story. What I experienced and what I read aren’t the same. And, no, I wouldn’t accept a campaign sticker – I was there to watch and listen.

As for that public responsibility? We’d hoped to get up to Laconia later in the afternoon, where the Donald was to appear at a rally – no Q-and-A, I presume. But we agreed, we’d had enough for one day. You can absorb only so much at a time. And, as I search for that coverage this morning, apparently there was nothing newsworthy to report there.