Let Them Eat Kale

Some of us, who heard and try to remember, might remember near the top, "don't explain, don't complain." One of the few unoriginal things Jan ever shared. A direction to follow regarding others, and ourselves.

And I almost have persuaded myself not to mention,
the people who torture animals,
and treat their workers, like animals,
and now, are oinking about needing a bailout.

Almost.

Earth Day is Sky Day

What if, there ARE no WHY questions, just HOW questions.

Then, we could ask, how is it few recognise this situation?

And fewer appreciate the challenges to remembering, remembering, what we do not know.

Pundemic thoughts

How do you know your tears are REALLY for another?

Obvious Questions

Excerpted from the New York Times (February 24, 2020)

"....
Why are conspiracy theories gaining traction? We’ve reported on the belief in unfounded claims about the origins of the virus: Some say it came from a lab in Wuhan, while Russian actors have spread a theory alleging the U.S. is behind the outbreak.

Conspiracies are the first thing some people go to when they face something new and scary. This happened with Zika; people rejected the truth that the virus caused microcephaly and blamed pesticides or genetically modified mosquitoes. But in medical school they teach you: If you hear footsteps, assume it’s horses, not zebras. That is, try the obvious diagnosis first.
...."


The obvious question here is why are there equines walking around in hospital corridors.

Thanksgiving

The leaves have only been on the ground for a few weeks, as summer finally ended in the American southeast. A yellow butterfly,  a common pat size, floated by. It landed on a brown leaf, one of many covering the ground.

Consider the Squirrels

They toil a lot. In the morning waves, they are a gray foam.

Like words. Words do not have a one to one correspondence to our observed world. Never have, never will. Hence Western philosophy.

The squirrel a hawk grabbed, the squirrel that was dropped, or fought free, has a white oval on its side, and for a while a red eye within this shape.

Seeing him we celebrate. He has a narrative. Though we cannot number his fleas, note the dissymmetry of his nostrils, or file his form, we love him. Could he know, he would fear us more than he does some birds. We rejoice in his distance, whatever freedom is.

Are words a similar violence? Must our appreciation of the particular, be built on a scar?

Is all individuality bubbles in a tide? ....

of the ongoing, ever, canoodldrum

....
Words
are
trellises
.....