Remote moon

Another day another letter… We’re up to R folks and it’s time for a response from my richly-educated, respectful cousin; a re-formulated vegetarian-of-sorts, here known as Renaissance Kid. And he has requested:

Retrograde

Generally retrograde refers to motion that is counter to the normative flow. So you might think of a satellite orbiting earth against the earth’s rotation as retrograde. Most man-made satellites would take an orbit more polar-oriented than equatorial though, so that it’s orbit would compliment the rotation like a sort of x-y axis and would potentially cover most of the planet’s surface over time instead of just a strip.

My understanding is that most are launched somewhat prograde and fewer somewhat retrograde in order to lessen fuel-costly resistance. But sometimes the geography around a launch site will inflict limitations on available direction.

Most satellites would orbit far enough from our atmosphere that resistance and fuel would cease to be of relevance once the orbit is established.

As for natural satellites: Saturn has 82 known moons of unique orbit (not embedded in its primary ring system) of which Phoebe is the only in retrograde (to Saturn’s rotation). It’s a more distant orbit which normally dictates smaller sizes but while a fraction of the size of our own moon it ranks probably in Saturn’s top dozen.

Phoebe, originally designated Saturn IX, was the first ever moon discovered photographically, but only as a dot. The Voyager explorations of the late eighties missed out on a close-up due to her remote position at the time, but this millennium’s Cassini mission was timed with Phoebe in mind. Cassini snapped this photo:

Her orbit and black surface tricked scientists for a long time into believing it a captured asteroid but now we know it possesses some carbon dioxide, and once held heat and water, all of which no proper asteroid can boast, so now we believe it’s a captured “centaur” meaning a Kuiper belt object (from between Jupiter and Neptune)

You may have heard of planets being in retrograde but this is a loose usage of the term. Taking Mercury for example, its orbit is continuous of course but because we sit on relatively the same plane as that orbit, the planet appears to change direction at times in accordance to the complex relationship of our two orbits. When it appears to move opposite the apparent flow of background stars (which is really just our rotation) some folks, such as astrologists, use the word retrograde to describe the unusual juxtaposition.

The last period of Mercury’s apparent retrograde was February 17 to March 10 and the next will be June 18 to July 12, 2020. Astrologers’ advice for these chaotic periods is this:

…remain flexible, allow extra time for travel, and avoid signing contracts. Double check your email responses, check in with reservations before you take that trip.

Review projects and plans at these times, but wait until Mercury is direct again to make any final decisions. You can’t stop your life, but plan ahead, have back-up plans, and be prepared for angrier people and miscommunication. Also, pull your head out of your ass because this is the least defendable baloneypoop ever.

I may have added an extra sentence somewhere in there but you’ll never guess which one.

How doth the city sit solitary…

…that was once full of people.

I remember many occasions sitting in my Streetsville apartment looking out the big window, contemplating at great length and seeing all these structures and machinations of society: I had never felt so alone; so utterly alien. At the time I regarded this with some degree of emotional peril; not as much as you’d expect, but more than I later would. My yawning separateness was to some degree just another observation; another new important revelation in a long roster of them. It was then that I found some comfort in that opening line from the book of Leviticus and then that I began reading the Christian bible for the first time since grade school, and then that I began finding wisdom instead of nonsense; wisdom which few priests would, so far as I imagined, ever interpret much the same way I was. It was then that I began to sense that much of this “religious” material must have been borrowed from other sources and that much of it was not intended at its roots to be a tool of Christian doctrine at all.

That alien feeling persisted for a long time, varying in intensity.

I remember a long night wide awake in my attic eyrie which I rented from Long Time Companion; the friend formerly known in blog space as Peter Pan. I’m pleased to say that he has come a long way, finding some peace, and considering that when we were breaking up years prior to this rental arrangement and I’d threatened to murder him (and possibly meant it) in a fit of outrageous jealousy - I guess I’ve come a long way too.

That night I’d felt the weight of this threshold; this decision; this gateway to… what? Enlightenment? This reckoning that I’d found no one yet who was willing to take my hand and proceed with me.

It was that night when I strummed the guitar and the song The Line came out: a simple three-chord ditty in which I tried to voice this conundrum; this great step in evolution (or so it seemed to me then) and my concern that I was becoming too alien from everyone around me and that I was losing the capacity to relate and thus to communicate and thus the potential to teach or to guide.

I did not want my learning; these immensely powerful and useful understandings to benefit me alone!

What I don’t remember is any conscious decision; any intention to back away from that threshold, but indeed that is what I did; not ready to give up on others; and not feeling any confidence that I’d ever be able to reach anyone again if I took this step and launched too far into another realm.

I remember being surprised to so easily embrace a reverse-pretentiousness, how easy it was for me to “play dumb” in a way, to reveal no insights in day to day circumstances where I was wise in relevant terms but wise enough, also, to know that what I had to say would not be understood or not be embraced and so I remained quiet and nodded like some very simple man. I was surprised how easily I could keep my ego in check.

I remember feeling lonely at times because I had no one I could be completely myself with. I literally had no secrets. This is a huge statement to make. I doubt it can rarely ever be honestly said. I had no secrets but yet I had to keep quiet about some things, not for shame (I could admit any flaw or fault I was aware of) but for other people’s comfort. I had no energy or any mandate to challenge everyone’s illusions all day every day.

When I met Neo and observed what astounding mental freedoms he possessed, I knew he was very special and that I had to make myself available to him. And with the brainstorming of excellent associate JazzLion, I began writing a novel in which I tried to plant all my most important and relevant understandings, with the thought that if he read it (along with others if it got published) and was of the kind of mind I had been crediting him with, then as an adult he might unearth that book and look me up. I did not indulge in any romantic notions about such an encounter but in essence I could imagine him saying, “Dude! Remember me? I understand what you’re saying here! And I thought we should talk I don’t imagine you’ve been expecting many people to get it…”

Instead Neo took such an immediate interest in me that we became associates when grade school graduation should have otherwise separated us.

In hindsight, maybe that was all for the worse. Another regret? Should I have finished the damn book instead, and put it in his hands and said goodbye?

One of the joys in our association; call it friendship; call it mentorship, whatever, was that I had someone I could be one hundred per cent myself with. I regarded him as completely trustworthy. Not trustworthy in that I could trust him with my secrets (because I felt I had none) but trustworthy in that I trusted him to be able to handle the truth; to be able to handle the things I had to say.

For the first time in quite a while I had someone I did not feel alien with.

This is the crux of my broken-heartedness.

Imagine being a human but growing up on some far away planet where everyone is wildly different than you and finally you meet another human; the only other human on the planet, and you just feel so at home finally, and your friendship blossoms and then after eight years he just says, yeah I can’t do this anymore bye. 

Sometimes these days I think surely we’ll get back together again. Surely he’ll come to his senses.

But sitting here, trying to be a little present; a little wakeful, I think: How carefully have I monitored this alien issue over the last eight years?

Am I sure that no one else is capable of letting me be me, without me having to be concerned about scaring them off?

I know that the Ponderer and Skeeter Willis are frequent readers of this blog (god knows why; it is so scattered and indulgent) and I must ask with honesty; not to flatter, are they not willing and capable?

I wonder too, about Dog Whisperer and Earth Writer and Aqua Lad. I barely knew them eight years ago. Have we not developed an almost familial bond?

On that note what about my mother and my brother?

Surely JazzLion and Renaissance Kid and Global Citizen; though they live rather out of the way to varying degrees, so to rely on them regularly would be difficult.

And the Earnest Chef too. And The Healer. Thinking about them now, are they not slam dunks? Have I not already felt free with them and just not done the accounting?

Perhaps even the Thoughtful Educator. Haven’t all these relationships broadened and solidified over these years? Have I failed to give some special people fair credit?

And then there’s Dr. Lock of course. I’m surprised as I think about this now - how many friends I am able to consider in this regard

Perhaps I need to sample the waters; open up to more people the same way I did to Neo and see how it goes; if they are comfortable or not.

It would help, I’m sure, if I could be my gentler self with them. Which would happen naturally I’m sure if I could bring myself to be more present; more mindful. I might not be ready though. Let me cradle myself in the writing for now.

With regards to that evolution, I suppose this is another regret: When Neo asked, But why wouldn’t you want to embrace enlightenment if you could? Why ever choose otherwise? For some reason I gave him a cryptic answer that was more about my remaining addictions; my susceptibility to identity, instead of a straight answer. God knows why. It just happened.

I should have told Neo the more simple and sincere perspective: that I was waiting until he was ready to go there with me.

November salvation

I have been slipping away.

In the workplace a subtle distance has grown between my associates and I. “I hope you stay with us,” they sometimes say. It is apparent that my thoughts of leaving have been passed on, likely out of benign concern and not as gossip, from the pal I trusted with them. Meanwhile the associate I was closest to, one of just a few who works night shifts with me, has retired as of yesterday. We traded emails and intentions.

My current work schedule is light but very unfortunate. It hampers my hiking schedule and my time in nature with excellent pal, the Healer.

And it hampers my availability for the community functions of the volunteer organization which runs our Circles of Support. Simultaneously Grandpa Munster’s circle has ceased to meet as a circle currently. We are only meeting him one–on–one. That whole community is falling away from me except for Munster himself.   

And it conflicts with the December-through-October write-in schedule with my excellent writer pals while the internet filters at work deny our group’s online forum. I am slipping away from them too.

My delightful, creative new Dungeons & Dragons group has seemingly evaporated, hopefully to return if Aqualad gets a better handle on the challenging new University experience compiled with an overly cumbersome girlfriend relationship.   

The Earnest Chef has evolved his career and finds himself more fully rooted in The Big Smoke and estranged from Scooterville.

Dog Whisperer and Earth Writer have also seemed less accessible.

And that whom I love most dear has been far removed of late and less inclined to communicate with me, though still has nice things to say on rare occasions.

I have been uninspired and critically lazy; perhaps alarmingly so. Look at this blog, ignored now for a month. It’s a near-perfect thermometer, this blog. Ninety per cent of the time its level of activity is a reliable measure of the health of my journey; my pursuit of goals.

The one exception is family, who delightfully, I have visited with five times in the last two months. I missed a sixth due to illness and plan to be healed enough to attend a modest family reunion with a minority of my many cousins, including Renaissance Kid, on the coming weekend (But not World Citizen who is currently mucking about in Indonesia). The impetus behind increased family activity, I shall reveal shortly. It is one of the many blog pieces I have began writing of late and not finished and not posted.

About all these dear connections which have been fading, I must say though: There are no reasons why any of them can’t be turned around again.

And as for my own mental decrepitude, bordering on emotional, there is perhaps a light at the approaching end of the tunnel!

National Novel Writing Month began yesterday and though my start is late, due mostly to illness, and likewise I have been missing the live gatherings thus far, I do feel the presence of my writer pals, both online and in my heart, and the important writing habit I have neglected is revving up again; super-charging.

I have been smart about my plans; going back to basics to draft a critical non-fiction project which I should have done years ago and which should accomplish much, regardless if it ever is published. The very process of it will organize my head in such a way that I may be enabled to finish some of my abandoned novels and/or to begin new ones with a new confidence and better groundwork.

It should also provide a great tool for Neo and I, should we ever finally get together and attempt to accomplish something profound; something I strongly feel is within our reach.

And part of the NaNo plan is to blog every day and to make that process permanent, through December and beyond! There is so much to ruminate on, dear diary. You might soon get sick of me!

See you tomorrow.

Giving

It may have largely to do with the recent reading of an extremely inspirational book (more on that later) that I have become so appropriately “generous” of late; generous in a very personal sense. It might be better to say accepting or tolerant. Perhaps even detached or unencumbered, or simply present.

Specifically I have found myself dismissing concerns around the dynamics of close relationships. The various ways, for instance, that some friends, through no conscious intention of their own, cast a force upon me which tries to draw me back into my old ways, or into the more socially normal behaviors which seem to pose a threat to me. Or the ways that they underestimate me so that they can perceive needs I do not have, so as to satisfy their loving nature by tending to them. (Do I do that too, to some?) Other things: Grandpa Munster’s poor choices and consequences. The apparent disrespect of bread-and-butter friends forced to think me pretentious in order to deny their own suffering. (How much of that is in my head?)

All these apparent little hurdles, suddenly they are nothing! I have read passages which sound like my own voice, reminding me of lessons I once learned and like magic I am experiencing greater freedom. These little hurdles do not matter! I need not plan my way around them. I am full of love and strength. Everywhere I look my associates are suddenly more beautiful and harmless.

Generous may not be the best word for this; this mentally letting them be who they are, whatever they are, however I perceive them. But I like that word right now. I like it because generosity has been returned to me these last few days but tenfold. My old car bit the dust in spectacular fashion; the suspension crumpling beneath me. My friends were quick to offer counsel and rides. The Ponderer actually loaned me her car in order to get to work for two nights. Dog Whisperer offered the same. Peter Pan offered me a $1500 loan to help buy a new car. I accepted $1200. The purchase emptied my bank account. The new car has a battery problem which I believe will be worked out. Friends all over have come to my rescue. The Ponderer and Healer have fed me dinners this weekend. All these gifts have arrived without my asking. Mom, too, has offered money which I have declined. 

As I said to Dog Whisperer earlier, “I am blessed.” May I have the opportunity soon, to give as generously as I have received!

I have committed to myself to repay the loan swiftly. Unfortunately this will probably mean further delays to seeing Skeeter Willis or Renaissance Kid and that I will not visit Neo down at his new home where he goes to school, as soon as was planned. (He’s grown up so frightfully fast.) I want us to just have fun for a day, without the sobriety of sustained serious conversation that has long been our mode; to perhaps hit book stores, music stores, antique stores… to explore… make a short film perhaps…! and definitely go over his latest brilliant music album production and provide feedback. I want to give him a wok and show him some great cooking options that I think he’ll enjoy and which are easy, healthy and efficient. I do worry about his nutrition.  

I’m willing to bet that without the pressure to maximize efficient conversation over dinner or coffee, that we might actually make more useful connections naturally, while just doing what we enjoy. What I would really like, I think, is simply for us to laugh together as we once did.

Yes the universe seems to have done me wrong; monkeyed terribly with my car and then, with my bank account emptied and me thinking it owed me some good luck at least until next payday, it monkeyed with my new car! But it also showed me how much love there is around me and reminds me how much I have to give.

Avitable Scramble Time

13 thoughts in thriteen minutes. No editing...! GO!!

1. Did I say no editing? I'm allowed to edit for spelling. So there. I haven't done an avitable scramble in what? Years? It's surely not good blogging but some of my friends are probably wanting to know what's going on PLUS -- I need an easy way to break the ice and get blogging again.

2. I was on vacation in the muskokas for two weeks hence the absence here. Mind you I got back a couple weeks ago. Same cottage. The Want-n-While. Gifty McBrainchild was my guest and his love for board games - or games of any sort - rubbed off on the rest of us. The annual retreat was a lot more social than usual with constant bouts of Catan, Hearts, Boggle, Speed and stack of other games. I didn't write a single poem or compose a single song.

3. The Big Empty Warehouse Sunday nighters have dried up; my choice recording location. Since moving into the home of the Liberal Theologian, I have relied on the warehouse as my guitar venue. I have very quiet instincts which I must resist if I am to get back into the composing habit. For the first three years of the music experience I would always feel on edge; a little out of sorts any time I went a couple days without picking up the guitar. That seems to have worn off. Not sure whether that's good or bad. Haven't thought about it really.

4. I've got Ye Olde Security Guard Company's brass with their knickers knotted and the manager of the corrections centre going to her regional director for consultation re this little old obscurity guard intending to qualify for Circle Of Support volunteer status so that I can work with some of those emerging from the criminal justice community more closely. That both roles - guard and volunteer - are entirely compatible in terms of interests in public safety and in successful reintegration efforts, is pretty obvious to me. God forbid any of these leaders actually climb down from their pedestals to talk to me personally so I can explain my position and intentions and put their precious minds at ease. I'm far from the first figure of supposed authority to work in such dual capacities. It really is mind blowing to contemplate the incredible volume of work that goes into blocking human kindness from penetrating this twisted knot of a society on the part of fear and lawyers and insurance companies. Look around people. Find a room where there is no grimmacing lawyer or insurance agent present and guess what? They're present alright.

5. I have a fish screensaver. Little animated fish. They all look the fucking same. Little Borg fish. That's right. I said fucking. There's nothing noble about swearing whatsoever. But then there's nothing wise, intelligent or sane about fearing "swear" words. They're just a stupid noise that comes out of humans' mouths along with a shitstorm of other stupidities. There are a thousand far more harmful and offensive things that people do and say without having a shred of awareness for the harm they do. So there. Fuck a duck. Quack quack.

6. I really should be doing laundry. First day back at the Princess Of Schools tomorrow and I've ought to wear.

7. What time did I begin this exercise? That would have been a fine thing to remember.

8. Eight rhymes with plate. Am I hungry? Discuss...

9. Nine rhymes with tine. Fork a duck.

10. I have a feeling I've been at this more than 13 minutes.

11. I've been giving Gifty McBrainchild a lift to the bus stop on certain mornings when I'm coming off night duty and he has early morning band practice. He and his super-excellent moms live just around the corner from Corrections Heaven. I love their company. They remind me that not quite everyone is addicted to, and enslaved by, the bullshit of instinctive mind and societal structure. I need the company of people like that; higher order people... World Citizen, Rennaisance Kid, JazzLion, Neo, Matman. These are the people who keep me going. I am nothing without them. They inspire me to do the good work. and yet - why do I not arrange to see them more often? 12. Gifty McBrainchild? What a terrible nickname. Hey, it was spur-of-the-moment. I'll think of something better. Promise.

12. My brother is now engaged to a wonderful human being of the female persuasion. They've been shacking up for quite a while. The big event is in two years. I'll be in the wedding party. I'm certainly not big on traditions but this will be pretty cool. I'll get to make a speech for one thing. I'll be expected to welcome the bride to the family. I'm sure I'll do something out of the ordinary though. Maybe I'll read passages from Dante.  

13. Yeah, I'm sure time was up a while back.

song: The Line

Not my newest song but a recent one. Like the many primary stages in life and life's endeavors that I have initially skipped but later returned to, experiencing them from an atypically mature standpoint, I missed the whole major G-C-D chord phase through my first two years of songwriting exploration. Lately I have been enjoying its lively simplicity. After catching a little flack for using 'I walk the line' as the song's chorus, I considered changing the title to "Johnny Cash Can Kiss My Ass" but settled finally on simply "The Line." I have a proper USB mic now which improves the sound quality very much and reveals the ample imperfections of my sorry excuse for a singing voice quite sufficiently. ...................... ................................. ............................. ..................................

To all who wished me a great weekend:

Wasn't going to touch the blog during November Nanowrimo but this is my only form of diary and I must record the following!


Saturday I spent the entire day with another fine cousin: Renaissance Kid, his girlfriend and their buddies. Renaissance Kid shares a house with five other university students, two budgies, six chickens and three quail.


We built a new quail coop. Seems a hungry skunk got in to the last one and cut the home's quail contingent in half. Now the survivors have a pretty significant upgrade. I was on the door committee and sawed the wood for the door and door frame. Also helped out a little with the trench refillage, a little chicken wire stapling and the munching of apple walnut muffins and very leafy mustardy gai choy.


I was served two outragously delicious vegan meals, engaged in several useful discussions with very kind humanitarian and environmentally conscious kids and played a wildy funny game they call telephone pictionary. Can't remember the last time I laughed so hard.


Sunday I met with my excellent Nano friends, pumped out a few thousand words for the Eye of Atchooah piece and had a nice visit from the Illicit Sweetheart. It had been a while. We talked about the future, acknowledged that our paths lie in different directions, and it was all comfortable; all good.


So to all those who on Friday wished me a great weekend... Done!
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