Seeing is Believing...maybe not

 One of the things that makes me most nervous about Trump is his creation of the term "Fake News." It would give hime to much credit to say that he was the first to create fake news. It has been around probably since human's first guttural mumblings. No Trump didn't invent it but he coined the phrase and thus I blame him.

Verbal and written deceptions are scary enough but visual ones visual ones would be or more should I say, are much scarier. Humans, by are very nature tend to believe what we see more than what we are told. This is especially true today as so many people don't have the patience to hear or read but rather are addicted to the fast pace of video. Is there a more damning evidence than a video of some politician engaging in some lurid act while being secretly filmed? 

I read an article a month ago, describing how even under funded hackers can now create video clips from publicly available voice and video clips thrown in with a bit of digital manipulations that show their quarry doing and saying things that never took place. Their manipulations can only be detected by digital experts using sophisticated analysis and even then it can take days or weeks to determine the fraud. The speed at which information is now distributed renders such analysis almost useless. The carnage is already committed. 

Presently it takes someone with certain knowledge, skills and equipment to make a convincing video fraud but this ability is quickly becoming available to any moron with a laptop. Hell, even the porn industry is already embracing it. They make movies of celebrity look-a-like writing in ecstasy beneath tubular aliens of good enough quality to arouse the libido of their fat, scrundgy viewers. The more mainstream makers of animated movies even go out of their way to inject a tiny amount of artificialness into their characters because too much realism unsettles their audiences. 

What will happen when deep pocketed and well organized groups like governments, terrorists and espionage experts start using this technology? Are they using it now? Probably. What happens when every nerd with a computer of phone can utilize this technology? Truth doesn't die but it certainly becomes indiscernible in the sea of informations.

So if you see a video of Trump blowing Putin or Biden eating fetuses don't believe them. Your eyes CAN deceive. So what should we believe...who knows? (and that is what will tear society apart) 

Cold Mornings

 The sun rose into a cold day this morning. It's not really cold, only about +25 F. In another month or so I will find such a temperature a pleasant reprieve. Not so this morning. The air slaps my face like the bite of the first shot of clear vodka at an evening party. Everything is relative. 

Cindy is at work again at what is supposed to be her day off. Public Health's computer system went down at the end of her work day preventing her from finishing her charting on the progress or regression of her beloved Covid patients. Once again I find myself alone in this old house. At one time in my life I would have found this dis-heartening at the least or anger provoking at the worst. Not so today. Over time I've accepted the fact that I am but one love in my wife's life. Her love of nursing; her love of helping the afflicted, has permeated her being since before I entered her life. I have played "second fiddle, or at least only a single fiddle of the many in her orchestra. When my own life was busier, full of chasing snotty nosed kids and career generated dollars this often made me angry and frustrated. Today I just accept it as part of her. How could I be so selfish as to want to not share this person with the rest of the world? The world needs her. 

I'm not sure how the previous paragraph relates to it being a cold morning or to "Everything being relative," but these were my thoughts when I sat down to write this on this blog today. I could share with my readers, or bore them, and write about the wood-pecker on my front yard tree, or the few words I exchanged with the lady walking her dog down the street on this brisk morning. (nice lady) But I think I will spare you boredom of reading the individual threads that sew together the tapestry of my life. 

Rays of Hope

What a beautiful day! Mountain sky blue stretching for eternity above with ribbons of golden sunshine streaming down like warm caresses. The morning air nipping at my nostrils like a playful puppy.  I think I, like most people who live nearer the poles, notice days such as today with more appreciation. Appreciation forged from a heart that knows that such blessings are soon to be lost. The hours of daylight are vanishing at a noticeable pace. My senses are awakening from their slumber through endless summertime daylight with little need of the warm coziness of a jacket. New pleasures are approaching; the blackness of winter nights dotted with stars billions of miles away; the sounds of white silence; the hug of a warm steamy house. Yes these pleasures are coming and probably too soon! But for today I'm happy that my senses have been jolted awake to relish the sweetness the universe is showering upon me today, even if they are to be soon replace with other blessings.

Mindfullness vs Mindlessness

 In today's world there is renewed interest in mindfulness. We are advised to be mindful of what we eat,where we shop and how we interact with the world. Yoga instructors give classes emphasizing to be aware of how we move our bodies, what muscles we tense or relax and position of bones and joints. Meditation enthusiasts instruct us to focus on a given mantra, or for the real experts, to focus on nothing at all. (Have you ever tried to think nothing at all? My experience says such is impossible for the human brain.) We are told to "get in touch with our feelings." In essence we are to be aware; of everything we do, say and think. 

Amid this sea of mindful advice, we are also instructed to "go with the flow," to just let the universe wash over us; to "place our trust in god." We should go with our gut instinct, go with our first choice and not overthink our actions and their reactions. What is a mind to do?

Perhaps there is no dilemma here. Our bodies, and I think the universe itself, demands such counter-diction. The muscles in our limbs are set on opposite sides of their supporting bones and are in constant tension counteracting each other when the limb is "at rest." When we move a limb one set of muscles lessons it tension while the opposing muscle increases it by contracting. When the moon orbits its planet the force of its momentum balances the force of gravity between them. I once read that some great scientist,who's name escapes me, postulated that in any sufficiently complex system of logic there exists counterdicting true statements. 

I think I tend to favor the "go with the flow" mantra in my life. My body performs the vast majority of its activities in a mindless state and usually I'm quite happy about it. I'm glad I don't need to tell my stomach to go ahead and empty its contents into my intestines or which of my muscles to contract or relax in order walk or run. I find it very stressfull when I take a class in fly-casting and need to be aware of the proper movements to send my fly gracefully over a river's ever changing currents. When I attempt to do so it inevitably results in my skilled instructor admonishing me and telling me, "you're just waving your arms around like a discombobulated windmill." When I find myself standing on a stream and decide to pay attention to what I'm doing my casts quickly go to hell and my level of enjoyment decreases almost completely. In a short time I revert back to daydreaming and just let my arms and body revert to doing their own thing. I follow the motto of that successful sports shoe manufacturer (Addios or Nike?) and just "Do It." That is not to say that I don't at times espouse the "mindful" approach. I did after all, sign up and pay money to take that fly-casting class and certainly am mindful of my feet when crossing the rocky bottom of a swiftly flowing river. (Although, many good stories have originated from such occasions when I forgot to to be mindful. Stories of wet, cold, terror. ) Both opposing states are required for the rich homeostasis of life.

Mundane Pleasures

 I often find pleasure in rather mundane, mindless and senseless tasks. Tasks which most people probably would not list as their favorite activities in life. Most people dread shoveling snow, mowing the lawn, washing the dishes and painting a wall. Not that I always eagerly seek out such "chores." Sometimes, especially in my busy past, I would and will go to extreme lengths to avoid such senseless, mindless and repetitive endeavors. These very characteristics are exactly what I seek out sometimes, especially now that I am living the leisure life of retirement. Maybe mindless activity is a perfect fit for my now daft mind. 

Gardening, digging in the dirt, pulling weeds, harvesting the procedes are all cyclic and repetitive. Some people would argue that it certainly isn't mindless or senseless. They plan their gardens; measure their soil chemistry; arrange their planting for maximum yield or beauty.  They would argue, "gardening certainly is not senseless, it provides tasty and healthy food after all ." They may be right but I prefer to keep my garden mindless and senseless. I can easily obtain all the tasty and healthy food I desire from the grocery store and probably at less cost and time than I put into my garden. Its a good thing too! If I had to feed myself from my garden I would be one skinny dude. I also like to keep my gardening mindless. Sure I think about what and where I want to plant but I do it on the spur of the moment, not according to specific instructions from a book. Yes, sometimes i will read about gardening or watch a video on the subject but mainly just for background information.  Basically I just play. Feeling the warmth of the sun on my back and the coolness of the soil in my fingers.  Watching the beetles and spiders scampering about in the leaf litter. I love it that three is no-one around to tell me I'm doing it all wrong. I do it however I feel like doing it at the time.

Many people, especially men, grumble about mowing the lawn or shoveling snow. I rather enjoy both activities. Like gardening, there is no one around to bitch about how I am doing it. I can mow the grass in squares or diagonals or even circles if I can figure out how to do so. I can pick any starting point that suits my fancy even if my choice results in re-shoveling or re-mowing a given spot. I can strive for the utmost efficiency or I can forget efficiency and just strive to hold off working in one area so as to not disturb a rabbit or squirrel or bird that is hanging out at a given location. I can inhale the smells of the warm grass or the sharp bite of the cold night air. While the lawn mowers growl can be mesmerizing I think I prefer the scrape of the shovel and the dull thud of snow "frurrumping" into drifts. Once again, basically I just play.

Now that I find myself becoming a mindless old man even dishwashing can be be pleasurable. This certainly was not the case in my younger years. I have owned several automatic dishwashers (mechanical ones, not wives and children.) I used to refer to those machines as, "marriage savers," as they saved my marriage from collapsing into a heap of moldering plates and pans. If one broke down it became a priority to repair or replace it. I could write an entire history on the lives and demise of the dishwashers I have owned but not in this post. Now I often find soaking my old hands in the warm,sudsy water quite pleasing, even mildly erotic, especially if its a cold day. Yes, I still bitch, "Cindy, why didn't you at least rinse this cup after you drank this sticky creme soup out of it?" Or, "You could of at least taken your paper napkin off the plate before you threw it in the sink!" But the memories of the tasty meals that dirtied the dishes and the love shared while eating them also warms my heart as the water warms my hands. Washing dishes leaves me feeling grateful and maybe a bit guilty over the abundance in my life. I can't say that I really play while doing the dishes, at least not the way small children do when they do. Maybe some day I will learn to be more childlike again, For now I'll just settle for the sensuality of the water warming my hands while memories of meals and time spent at the sink with my mom or sister warm my heart.

Focus, WRITE

 My mind woke up screaming today. I mentioned it in my previous post. I've been trying to slow it all morning with no success. Trying to focus on one task, one train of thought, only to be side tracked in another direction moments or minutes later. I must write.

Writing forces me to focus on the words at hand; on the mechanics of typing; on the grammar and punctuation of putting thoughts in a lineare progression. I think writing, and reading, is more therapeutic than speaking and listening. Perhaps that is why I have taken up blogging at this time.

Corvid-19 has effected me along with everyone I know. It is effecting all while infecting few. Social distancing has greatly reduce my face-face interaction with other humans. This has left my brain with little to do but to think. It has much more time to "free wheel" as I like to call it. My mind enjoys free-wheeling. I often think people should allow their minds to free-wheel more often. I think it is a fundemental need of the human brain to break the bonds of everyday mundane activity and to turn inward and bounce around inside its empty skull for a bit. However, too much free-wheeling also defines Attention Deficit Disorder and I think writing forces focus and counters this tendency.

Speaking and listening also force focus a bit. However, with its free flowing current constantly changing direction at every obstacle and twist, it more resembles the free-wheeling mind. Conversations never stay on target for more than a few minutes before taking aim at a new horizon. I, like most people, enjoy a good conversation, it gives fodder for my brain to bounce around in my skull during its free-wheeling time. However, in excess, its transience can leave me a bit unsettled.

So many thoughts, ideas, feelings, all screaming to escape their space and time. Like individual beings all wanting to be recognized and announced to the universe. Writing gives them some measure of permanence even if its just an illusion. Permeance is an endangered species in todays world, if it ever really existed. Thus I write; striving for some kind of eternal life despite knowing that no such thing exists.

Today

 I awoke this morning thinking about what I wanted to write on this blog for today. My mind was awash with so many ideas, jumping from one topic to another like the rhythmic ocean waves pounding on rocky shorelines. The fire of coved-19; the reasons I write; the idiocy and genius of Trump; the value of libraries. The list could go on. Then I stepped outside with my coffee in hand. I watched the dawn break with its colors of orange, purples in pink painting the eastern sky with hope of a new day, driving the darkness of night receding to its western quarter. I'm still unsure what to write. Maybe it will come to me later but for now I think I will just watch and revel in the sun's warmth.

HOPE

 Yesterday Donald Trump tested positive for Covid-19! One of his close aides. HOPE Hicks, tested positive after exhibiting symptoms and it is implied that she passed this dragon virus onto Trump. Wow! How fitting her first name seems to be. HOPE, for she has given me hope for the future of this great country. Hope that the great imposter, this self-serving piece of shit that cares nothing for his people unless they benefit him in some way, will now suffer immeasurable prolonged pain like he has inflicted on so many of this world. Only time will tell if this HOPE will be realized; but I sure HOPE it will be so.

Perhaps the greatest evil this beast has brought to this planet is the very hatred I express in the paragraph above. Perhaps it gives him too much credit to say that he brought this curse to us; for I believe it has existed since time immortal. How does his moto, "America First" really differ from "Me first!" and certainly this attitude is part of every living organism. It is what drives an ameba when it engulfs a smaller,weaker organism to use for its own metabolic energy. No, Trump didn't invent this concept although I'm sure he would proclaim such credit if he thought it would benefit him. Perhaps he simply is simply a distillery; a filter, separating the bad from the good characteristics of life. He divides love and hate; abundance and scarcity; Freud's ID from his super-ego. Life requires a mix of these qualities to exist. It requires a constant pull and push of these opposing forces to maintain its homeostasis. Trump actively separates and divides these into separate camps with an ever thinning line dividing them.  What happens when this line ruptures? The prophetized Armageddon? Does one side win or is there mutual annihilation? Life cannot exist without homeostasis; the constant push and pull of opposing forces. Maybe annihilation is the ultimate everlasting peace, but a peace without any joy.

All I know  is that I hate this man, and more to the point I hate that I hate. I go to bed fantasizing about prolonged, agonizing deaths that I would rejoice in inflicting on him. I love life and its constant give and take. I truly hate the black shadow my hate casts amid the sunshine of  love.