“There are landscapes in which we feel above us not sky but space. Something larger, deeper than sky is sensed, is seen, although in such settings the sky itself is invariably immense. There is a place between the cerebrum and the stars where sky stops and space commences, and should we find ourselves on a particular prairie or mountaintop at a particular hour, our relationship with sky thins and loosens while our connection to space becomes solid as bone.” ~ Tom Robbins
“Any great art work … revives and readapts time and space, and the measure of its success is the extent to which it makes you an inhabitant of that world – the extent to which it invites you in and lets you breathe its strange, special air.” ~ Leonard Bernstein
“Might we begin then to transform our passing illuminations into abiding light?” ~ Huston Smith
The day is rushing at me but I will not flinch. Bring it on. Memorial Day, big day in retail, which is where I am headed, wondering what the heck got into me. Gainful employment, that’s what. It will be fun. I love my job. Now . . . . I feel maybe too peaceful for the coming show, but that may come in handy, there amidst the retail madness. That so many of the purchases have to do with gardening, with growing new life, injecting light into the works . . . it is a balm for the burn of . . . . let’s just say it gets pretty hectic out there. On a holiday there are more tailgaters on the road, and elsewhere. Travel safe, have a good time. Wow. I have the urge to drift toward cynicism. But I don’t want to go there. I have stuff to do. Something got me off into a spiritual bent, just about an hour ago. It was an article by Andrew Sullivan, who is a columnist for New York Magazine. Click here if you are interested. I know Sullivan from “Realtime With Bill Maher”, from his being a panelist on occasion, back when I could still watch the show, due to having satellite television and all. Those were the days, right? Whatever. He’s a moderate Republican. I always loved to hear what he had to say. Kinda reminds me of Christopher Hitchens in a way, in that his intellect shows without being forced. He ain’t no poser. He also reminds me, in a way, of Salman Rushdie, for the same reason. All of those men were occasional guests on Bill Maher’s show. I need intellectual stimulation like I need water. I have a thrust, thirst, whatever, for it, and it soothes me deeply. When I am tangled in the middle of an active phase of PTSD one of the first things I do is head for some heady stuff. The light of reason is one thing that casts a light into the dark space that PTSD creates. Anyway, the article I read was about why we should legalize psychedelic drugs. Yes, really. That’s what surprised me about the article — much of what Sullivan wrote about was the spiritual aspects, of the predominance of love that psychedelics reveal, to be the seeming basis for all being. Not doing; that’s the realm of the ego. Being, just being. That’s where the love is at. Andrew makes a case for the positive effects that psychedelics provide, as a ‘reconstructor’ of sorts, that loosens up the steely grip of ego, and of social anxiety, all wrought from the busy busy gotta git it done world in which we live. Red bull, anyone? That balm, that light of love, is spiritual, not religious. Religion is about Light and Love; spiritualism is the real thing it’s own self — pure, clear — not referential. That strange, special air of Being. Sigh. Alas, I am out of time, and must go look at the sunrise over the sacred mountain. Then I gotta shower and stuff. Then I gotta dive in to the real world out there. No Red Bull, thank you very much. I’m sure I can handle it. Maybe with a cup of hot black dark roast Starbuck’s for lunch. Ummmm — with lunch. Whatever comes, it is going to be a day. There I go . . . .
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.