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Fuck ISIS! And fuck the Pentagon too!

November 20, 2015

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I think the biggest surprise of middle age is realizing how much you have forgotten about how to be happy with/in one’s life.

Remembering that once, you were an eight-year-old boy running through these fields, and that it was all magic and wonder…

The big sky!

The bear you saw with your father one day in the woods.

The swoop and kill of the hawk.

_DSC4787Four and a half decades later I walk under this same half-moon, watching as crazy-warm clear mid-November warmth gives way to a first-of-the-year Arctic cold front. (- When I first came out the temperature was 12C. In less than an hour it has dropped to 8, with a first real wind chill felt in the 40K gusts of wind that have heralded the front’s arrival. They blow clean and crisp across my face.)

The night is clear, with a shining moon, and a night-full of stars. There is a quick wink of a shooting star, flaming out just off the north side of the Little Dipper.

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Earlier today we saw a young buck and doe on the north edge of the farm, who to our surprise, seemed as curious to look at us, as we were them. We all just stood there for a good two minutes – just sussing each other out. My partner, a city-girl born and bred, later said it took her breath away. It made her smile all the rest of the day.

I think of those deer as I stroll along, and of their honest curiosity – eyes that watched us, and did not blink.

I am accompanied by our young dog and our 12-year-old cat (who is nervous at being so far out in the field at night – for he knows coyotes pass through here regularly. But he trusts me and the dog enough to leave the safety of the barn and to be wild-in-the-night, as he once so often was…)…together we are walking under a beautiful moon, watching as low, almost transparent, vapor clouds slowly move in over the western hills – coming in like lines of monster space sentinels straight out of Star Trek.

They are so close I don’t understand why I can’t touch them.

I watch then as the entire western horizon slowly begins to fill with these low-flying bluemooned wisps of the night.

Moon, stars, clouds, barn.

Made even more extraordinary when a horse whinnies and walks out of a shadow and comes over to nuzzle me. I realize that the others are strung out all through the pine shadows – beautiful and powerful – as only horses in moonlight can be.

Fuck ISIS! I think to myself.

Fuck the Pentagon too!

Fuck all the little Genghis Khan wanna-be’s in the world!

Fuck all those boys whom Hunter Thompson once called “the cocksuckers and liars who want to rule the world!”

(And then, at this very moment, when I am giving the big middle finger to all the asshole destroyers of the world – as if I were in a bad college art movie – at that very moment three Department of Defense bombers come up the valley and pass right over me, each of them precisely off the wing tip of the other; they are on one of their regular training runs out of Trenton Air Force Base.)

A couple of the horses snort their derision, and go on eating.

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But this is not an art movie. And it’s not post-modern irony either.

Dogs and cats and horses and moons and clouds and strong winds and soldiers don’t live ironically. How can they? They pre-date irony. They predate thought itself.

They are of the Essentials – formed of water, fire, earth, and wind – found throughout time – made into word – and passed from generation to generation.

The ground vibrates as the heavy bombers pass over, and then just as quickly, they pass to the north and disappear into the night… Prophets of Doom. I pick up a stone and throw it in their general direction.

The horse, happy at my nuzzles, pulls at my cap and I come back to Now. I happlily stroke his neck and ears as I look around at all that glows in the blue/black moonlight. The birch trees, the grass, a black cat, dark whirring pines. Even the wind carries this light as it brushes over my skin.

I am in a magic land! And,

in a glimpse, I feel all those who have stood in this very spot before me…my feet stuck to the ground…the cat, rubbing against my leg…

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One Comment leave one →
  1. November 20, 2015 9:27 am

    Wow. I had this feeling/experience so many times … but I would have never been able to put words to it so eloquent as this. Thank you, Sisyphus.

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