It’s funny to look around at all the costumes we wear. I was looking at the Smithsonian magazine and at some photos of monks in Bhutan. My first thought was that they were wearing costumes. Then I quickly thought, what isn’t a costume? I wear my get up every day. Carl and the boys are usually in shorts, a shirt, a vest and barefoot. It’s our custom. It just occurred to me that the difference is just a few letters. But that said, it is kind of a drag if there is a Halloween party and people show up in their street clothes so maybe I haven’t thought this out well enough.
When we play downtown there are all kinds of people in all kinds of getups. We always say that everyday is Halloween downtown.
We were eating breakfast with Joe (a friend of ours if you haven’t guessed by now) at Ideals two months ago. While gazing at their flip-through margarita list, there was a promotional thing that said if your birthday was in August, you can come in on the 3rd Thursday of that month and have yourself a free prime rib. That sounded good. Thus, we marked it on the calendar!
What makes a particular point of view attract someone and repel another?I reckon one’s underlying nature (‘private’ personality) determines what appeals and what repels.Given the ‘detached’ view explicit in the Tao Te Ching, I’d say it would draw those with a peaceful anarchist leaning.
What is more anarchistic than a ‘teaching that uses no words’?Certainly, any teaching that uses words can be usurped by ‘experts’ or ‘leaders’ (the bane of anarchists) who then exert their influences.A teaching ‘of words’ begs authority figures to preach them, and followers of authority to follow along. The Tao Te Ching, with its message on not getting caught up in names and words would be the ideal ‘bible’ for the peaceful anarchist.
I’ve long viewed myself as a human with a somewhat orangutan-like personality (must be genetic ).Among the great apes,the orangutan best exemplifies a peaceful and anarchist nature. If orangutans could read, the Tao Te Ching would be one of their favorites I imagine.
Remember our tradition of kicking off every Johnson Farm Picking Party with a round of playhouse jamming? Think we would abandon that tradition after eight Johnson Farm Picking Parties? Of course not!
Actually, we don’t have good footage from the first round of jamming, but later on my friend Hide and I returned to the playhouse for a little bluegrass fiddle-tune jamming…
I was outside in the morning sun watering the garden and thought back on all the mornings my mother experienced the same sun, air, and morning dew. I was ‘channeling’ my mother who just died a few day ago. I want to jot down a few of the thoughts coalescing out of this stream of consciousness while they are fresh…
Esther Abbott, Carl’s mother, passed away on Friday, August 22nd, at home. Her last days were incredible. She said she wanted to die for she had had a wonderful life, had done all she wanted to do, and was ready to go. She didn’t want to eat or drink. Nevertheless, we served her food and drink, but she ate almost nothing. She was in no pain. She was just resolute, saying she wanted to go “home.”
Years ago, before this blog existed, Luke and I used to write blog-like stories. After an event or “happening”, we’d get on the computer, write out what happened, then add pictures and print them out. You know, for historical purposes.
Anywho, being that it’s Labor Day ‘n all, my mind couldn’t help but be summoned back to 2003’s Labor Day, our most laborous Labor Day in a while. Fortunately, I had written a story about it, so we can get a generally-accurate account of what happened! So, let’s take a journey back in time! (2003 may not seem like that long ago, but keep in mind that we were using WordPerfect then, so it felt longer.)
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