for breakfast in the doldrums
lotus flowers

~ science has been speculating for years now how humanity might go about terraforming Mars... how about we re-terraform the Earth first, and make a garden of eden thereof, instead of flying out into untravelled spaces of the stars ~

(circa 2006, by me)

Il fut un temps, bien avant notre ère, (environ le sixième siècle,) le premier maître du Zen traversa des montagnes féroces et des fleuves impassibles de l'Inde jusqu'au temple Shaolin en Chine. Aussitôt qu'il arriva à la montagne où se trouve le temple Shaolin, il décida de se mettre à une méditation qui dura neuf années. Pourtant, pendant la troisième année de méditation, il se fut endormi et arracha ses paupières afin qu'il ne puisse jamais s'endormir pendant sa méditation une autre fois de plus. Puis, les vieilles paupières de Bodhidharma atterrirent sur la terre riche du printemps et les premières plantes de thé poussèrent. C'est ainsi que tous les moines du Zen Bouddhisme boivent du thé pour qu'ils puissent ne pas s'endormir pendant leur méditation.

When I was an idealistic freshman at Reed College, I met an extraordinary scholar. He was a senior, well dressed and ready for his oral thesis defense. One day I sat with him outside for lunch. A small crowd had gathered around him as he entertained questions pertaining to his thesis, in preparation for his impending defense. His thesis was bold and unequivocal: "All institutions are fundamentally corrupt; ethical institutions on this planet do not exist." He related his thesis somehow to the political philosophy of John Rawls, and also to the Talmud, though how he synthesized his information now escapes me. That evening, I saw him outside the Paradox Café. He asked me if he could borrow a quarter so he could buy a cigarette. Since I admired him so much, I said: "Sure. But just know I hope you are trying to quit; smoking is such a repugnant habit." "Zach, if you knew why I smoke cigarettes, you would not say that..." "Oh? Well, um, so why do you smoke?" "I'll tell you after I get the cig." He lit his cigarette, and said: "A couple years ago I was out on a lake with my best friend. Something happened to the canoe. I tried to save him. He drowned. Since then I have been a chain-smoker." "My God. I don't know what to say. I am so sorry, man." That was the last I heard from him. A year later I found out he had committed suicide. He had finished his oral defense and handed in the final draft of his thesis, was ready to receive his diploma, when Reed told him that he could not graduate because the way in which he fulfilled his science requirement was untenable according to their standards of excellence. He killed himself soon thereafter.

My relationship with America is like most people's relationship with their parents: in their presence you find all the comforts of home, but sometimes, more often than not, you want to move as far away from them as possible; their very existence embarrasses you to no end...

Whitman sounding his barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world was probably even more manic than Jesus storming into temples scolding rabbis in aramaic verse.