The essential teaching
It’s better not to make value judgments.
—Gautama the Buddha
I’d prefer not to have any preferences
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1 July 2010

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Age at its best
There is no shortages of literature portraying old age as a time of
disability leading to depression. Here’s a portrait of a man at
the end of a life well-lived, in the imagination of its author, 65 when he wrote these
words.
“While the Master’s gray-shot hair had gradually turned completely
gray and then white, while his voice had grown softer, his handshake
fainter, his movements less supple, the smile had lost none of its
brightness and grace, its purity and depth...The radiant welcoming
message of that smiling old man’s face, whose blue eyes and delicately
flushed cheeks had grown paler with the passing year, was both the same
and not the same. It had grown deeper, more mysterious, and intense...I
experienced what radiated from him, or what surged back and forth
between him and me like rhythmic breathing, entirely as music, as an
altogether immaterial esoteric music which absorbs everyone who enters
its magic circle as a song for many voices absorbs an entering
voice...Like everyone else, I noticed our master’s increasing withdrawal
and taciturnity, and the concurrent increase in his friendliness, the
ever-brighter and more ethereal radiance of his face...”
—
Herman Hesse was born this day in 1877
Only in fiction, you say? I was fortunate to meet Bryn Beorse
in 1979, the final year of his life, and he came as close to Hesse’s description
as anyone I’ve ever known. Bryn led two lives: As a UC
Berkeley professor of engineering, he was a pioneer in developing
technology to draw solar energy from the ocean. As a Sufi master,
he had a small following of devotees who recognized him as a master
teacher.
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2 July 2010

Shamcher Bryn Beorse
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Renewing America
“If once the people become inattentive to the public affairs, you and
I, and Congress and Assemblies, Judges and Governors, shall all become
wolves. It seems to be the law of our general nature, in spite of
individual exceptions.”
“The spirit of resistance to government is so valuable on certain occasions that I wish it to be always kept alive.” — Thomas Jefferson |
3 July 2010

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Governance from the fishbowl
I will fault human institutions before individuals for the world’s
ills, and I will never fault ‘human nature’. We are endowed by
evolution with behavioral plasticity. With a humane upbringing, in
the context of a just and caring community, the great majority of people
will behave decently.
We all know that there are people
who are capable of horrific crimes. But human societies can be
constituted so as to resolve disputes justly, head off violence, and
provide the basic needs of all members: food, shelter, medical care
and, above all, an opportunity to contribute their talents and efforts
for the common good. We should accept nothing less.
People in general are not violent, not selfish, not uncaring.
But, as P. T. Barnum noted
(or not) , perhaps we as a species are too trusting, and
easily fooled. When democratic societies act collectively in ways
that are violent or grossly unjust, it is almost always because the
people were hoodwinked by conniving leaders and a slavish press.
I believe that transparency in government would be a remedy for the
great majority of institutional failures, corruption and war. With
any measure of democratic control, people simply would not tolerate the
abuses of authority that are common today.
I propose that submission to a public webcam 24/7 be a condition of
public office for anyone entrusted with crafting legislation, making
policy, or allocating public expenditures.
— Josh Mitteldorf
‘In spite of everything, I still believe
people are really good at heart.’
—Anne Frank
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4 July 2010

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Revelation
No more my heart shall sob or grieve.
My days and nights dissolve in God’s own Light.
Above the toil of life my soul
Is a Bird of Fire winging the Infinite.
I have known the One and His secret Play,
And passed beyond the sea of Ignorance Dream.
In tune with Him, I sport and sing;
I own the golden Eye of the Supreme.
Drunk deep of Immortality,
I am the root and boughs of a teeming vast.
My Form I have known and realised.
The Supreme and I are one; all we outlast.
— Sri Chinmoy
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5 July 2010

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‘The most important thing about a person
is always the thing you don’t
know.’
— Barbara Kingsolver put these words in the mouth of a fictional
Frida Kahlo, whose archetype was born this day in 1907.
Nothing wondrous can come in this world unless it rests on the
shoulders of kindness.
- BK
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6 July 2010

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What is reality? View from a Poet and a Physicist
But Being was for him [Parmenides] not that is-ness but a ‘sphere’ in his poem
– what I was calling the possibility of existence, the laws that would
have to obtain for anything that did come into existence, an
indestructible fact – I don’t know if this sort of thing is a useful way
to speak of it. It seems like argumentation or puzzle solving. Whereas
the point is something else, the point is the mind operating in a marvel
which contains the mind – the point is the marvel, not this that one
likes and that which one doesn’t like, but the marvel, the Loved, the
Loved and Not Loved – It can really not be thought about because it
contains the thought, but it can be felt. It is what all art is about.
— George Oppen, from a
letter to his sister
Quantum mechanics is all about wave functions that live in a space of
all possible configurations of the world. The wave function has a
magnitude and a direction. The direction is an essential part of
the calculation when two wave functions collide or overlap. But in
the end it is only the magnitude that touches the reality that we can
measure or observe. The probability of a given configuration is
the magnitude squared.
The relationship between the physics of the wave
function world and the physics of the microscopic world has been a bone
of contention in quantum physics since the beginning (1925). The
most common resolution says that when we make any observation, suddenly
the wave function ‘collapses’ to a point, meaning that the probabilities
spread out over different possible configurations is all concentrated in
single configuration that our experiment observed.
Here’s an alternative possible relationship between
the wave function and the world we observe. The gist is that the
macroscopic world selects those quantum states that aren’t so fragile as
to change noticeably every time you look at them, in a process likened
loosely to Darwinian selection.
An article published recently in the research journal Physical Review
Letters [by Brian Ferry and Tim Day] describes the transition from quantum to classical world as a
“decoherence” process that involves a kind of evolutionary progression
somewhat analogous to Charles Darwin’s concept of natural selection. The
authors built on two theories called decoherence and quantum Darwinism,
both proposed by Los Alamos National Laboratory researcher Wojciech
Zurek. The decoherence concept holds that many quantum states
“collapse” into a “broad diaspora,” or dispersion, while interacting
with the environment. Through a selection process, other quantum states
arrive at a final stable state, called a pointer state, which is “fit
enough” (think “survival of the fittest” in Darwinian terms) to be
transmitted through the environment without collapsing.
— from a Washington State University press release, reprinted in Science Daily
(At least we can agree that it’s not a clockwork of particles
streaking through space and bouncing off one another.)
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7 July 2010

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“We are not held back by the love we didn’t receive in the past, but
by the love we’re not extending in the present.”
—
Marianne Williamson, born this day in 1952
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8 July 2010

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It’s all cause for celebration
If the falling of a hoof
Ever rings the temple bells,
If a lonely man’s final scream
Before he hangs himself
And the nightingale’s perfect lyric
Of happiness
All become an equal cause to dance,
Then the Sun has at last parted
Its curtain before you -
God has stopped playing child’s games
With your mind
And dragged you backstage by
The hair,
Shown to you the only possible
Reason
For this bizarre and spectacular
Existence.
Go running through the streets
Creating divine chaos,
Make everyone and yourself ecstatically mad
For the Friend’s beautiful open arms.
Go running through this world
Giving love, giving love,
If the falling of a hoof upon this earth
Ever rings the
Temple
Bell.
—
Daniel Ladinsky, translating Hafiz,
(from
The Gift)
If I could only live at the pitch that is near madness
When everything is as it was in my childhood
Violent, vivid, and of infinite possibility:
That the sun and the moon broke over my head.
—Richard Eberhart
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9 July 2010

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The labor movement is alive and. . . alive
Bob Herbert writes today about unionism as a social movement, unions
that support one another in times of need, recognizing their common
cause.
“As long as I am identified with the leadership of this great union,
we are going to extend a hand of solidarity to every group of workers
who are struggling for justice.”
—
Walter Reuther (United Auto Workers) 1968
“My view of the labor movement today,” he said in an interview, “is
that we got too focused on our contracts and our own membership and
forgot that the only way, ultimately, that we protect our members and
workers in general is by fighting for justice for everybody.”
— Bob King (United Auto Workers) 2010
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10 July 2010

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Shed fear
Always present, occasionally noticed. I’m sometimes aware of
the influence of fear in my emotional life. Fear disturbs my sleep
and regularly presents unwanted thoughts to my consciousness. Fear
influences my decisions and holds me back in irrational ways.
The campaign against fear has two parts. One is to confront
fear, to put myself in situations that make me afraid. When these
are chosen wisely, they need not entail actual risk to life and limb.
The second piece is to study how irrational fear affects major life
decisions, to imagine what decisions would be made in the absence of
fear, to take those paths even before I am emotionally ready to do so.
My daughter, who has been plagued by nightmares and obsessive fear
her entire life, traveled on her own to spend this summer in Ghana.
— Josh Mitteldorf
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11 July 2010

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Woops...
“How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to
live.”
— Henry David
Thoreau, born this day in 1817
“Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each
other’s eyes for an instant?”
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12 July 2010

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I contain multitudes; you contain multitudes
There is as much difference between us and ourselves as
between us
and others.
—
Michel de Montaigne (Essays, 1588, v 2 #1)
Il se trouve autant de différence de nous à nous-mêmes que de nous à
autrui.
— Michel
de Montaigne
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13 July 2010

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The French Revolution as it appeared to enthusiasts at its commencement
Oh! pleasant exercise of hope and joy!
For mighty were the auxiliars which then stood
Upon our side, we who were strong in love!
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very heaven!—Oh! times,
In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways
Of custom, law, and statute, took at once
The attraction of a country in romance!
When Reason seemed the most to assert her rights,
When most intent on making of herself
A prime Enchantress—to assist the work
Which then was going forward in her name!
Not favoured spots alone, but the whole earth,
The beauty wore of promise, that which sets
(As at some moment might not be unfelt
Among the bowers of paradise itself )
The budding rose above the rose full blown.
What temper at the prospect did not wake
To happiness unthought of? The inert
Were roused, and lively natures rapt away!
They who had fed their childhood upon dreams,
The playfellows of fancy, who had made
All powers of swiftness, subtilty, and strength
Their ministers,—who in lordly wise had stirred
Among the grandest objects of the sense,
And dealt with whatsoever they found there
As if they had within some lurking right
To wield it;—they, too, who, of gentle mood,
Had watched all gentle motions, and to these
Had fitted their own thoughts, schemers more wild,
And in the region of their peaceful selves;—
Now was it that both found, the meek and lofty
Did both find, helpers to their heart’s desire,
And stuff at hand, plastic as they could wish;
Were called upon to exercise their skill,
Not in Utopia, subterranean fields,
Or some secreted island, Heaven knows where!
But in the very world, which is the world
Of all of us,—the place where in the end
We find our happiness, or not at all!
— William Wordsworth, 1827
(extracted from a longer poem on his education and influences, sent
privately to his friend Samuel Taylor Coleridge)
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
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14 July 2010

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Human first
One of the hardest psychological hurdles I had to deal with after the
stroke was the loss of independence. Getting into and out of bed.
Going to the bathroom. Going someplace in the car. Preparing
my meals. I needed help with every one of those things. I’m
embarrassed by having to ring my bell and summon my attendant for
trivial things: “Would you close the window?” Would you tie my
shoes?”
Dependency has been so fierce because I used to be a
super-independent person. I’ve always prided myself on my
independence. I’ve come to appreciate, from my new perspective,
just how much ‘independence is revered in our culture, and how
humiliating we consider dependency. I can see the way I had
absorbed those ideas from the culture, how deeply I shared them, and how
much they influenced my values.
I can also see that part of the appeal of independence was not to be
vulnerable. When i became dependent, i was immediately much more
vulnerable. But what I discovered was that it was my vulnerability
which opened me to my humanity. i saw how I had pushed away my
humanity in order to embrace my divinity out of fear of my
vulnerability; and I saw he way the stroke was serving me, opening me to
that human vulnerability.
— Richard Alpert, aka
Ram Dass
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15 July 2010

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From a friend of Einstein
He had a marvelous sense of humor, and that’s a very important part
of life. The fact is that scientists have, on the whole, developed
a sense of humor because so much of science is a history of failures.
If you’re a creative person, you know it’s true in other kinds of
creative life, but more so in science as so much of science ends up to
be wrong. You do something, you spend weeks and months, and
finally the whole thing collapses. You need to have a sense of
humor, otherwise you couldn’t survive. And Einstein, I think, understood
that particularly well.
— Freeman Dyson,
interviewed by
Krista Tippett
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16 July 2010

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Language Acquisitions
Burn, or speak your mind. For the oak to untruss
its passion it must explode as fire or leaves.
The delicious tongue we speak with speaks us.
A liquor of sweetness where its root cleaves
ripens fluent, as it runs for the desirous
reason the touching sense. The infant says “I”
like earthquake and wavers as place takes voice.
Earth steadies smiling around her, in reply
to her self-finding pronoun, her focal choice.
We wait: while sun sucks earth juices up from wry
root-runs tangled under dark, while the girl
no longer vegetal, steps into view:
a moving speaker, an “I” the air whirls
toward the green exuberance of “You.”
—
Marie Ponsot
...for myself, motherhood was essential because I was extremely
selfish and egotistical and unaware of the deep reality of everybody
else in the world until I had a baby. Suddenly, I realized that we all
belong together and that we’ve got to fight to make that real and to
carry it out in our lives. I think the great thing that motherhood gives
you is a no longer relative kind of love: you really love your children,
period, if you’re lucky. You just love them, that’s all. You don’t
evaluate them, you don’t even care whether they love you or not—even
though that can be a great joy. But you’re not doing it because you want
to please them; you’re doing it because you love them, and that’s not
the same thing. It roots you in the world in a very profound way, I
think, in a very satisfying way. And it enables you to carry on well
past the first, second, and third stages of exhaustion.
—Interview
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17 July 2010

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The ultimate nature of things
Shun the smugness of derived belief, no matter what the source.
Trust no one’s revelations but your own.
The endless void; eternal bliss — are two sides of a coin.
Who tells you of a future certain — lies.
Mystery be our sole refuge,
And the only true religion is the faith of “I don’t know”.
But if (in moments of quiet reflection or ecstatic epiphany) you
discover yourself to be among those lucky few within whom a window
opens, a glimpse into the ultimate nature of things, a
vision of compelling reliability because the experience itself bears
with it the imprimatur of undeniable certainty — be you so blessed, then go for it, dude!
— Josh Mitteldorf
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18 July 2010

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Symbiosis everywhere
Symbiosis, the system in which members of different species live in
physical contact, strikes us as an arcane concept and a specialized
biological term. This is because of our lack of awareness of its
prevalence. Not only are our guts and eyelashes festooned with
bacterial and animal symbionts, but if you look at your backyard or
community park, symbionts are not obvious but they are omnipresent.
Clover and vetch, common weeds, have little balls on their roots.
These are the nitrogen-fixing bacteria that are essential for healthy
growth in nitrogen-poor soil. Then take the strees, the maple, oak
and hickory. As many as three hundred different fungal symbionts,
the mycorrhizae, we notice as mushrooms, are entwined in their roots.
Or look at a dog, who usually fails to notice the symbiotic worms in his
gut. We are symbionts on a symbiotic planet, and if we care to, we
can find symbiosis everywhere. Physical contact is a nonnegotiable
requisite for many differing kinds of life.
—
Lynn Margulis
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19 July 2010

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‘True, we love life, not because we are used to living, but because
we are used to loving. There is always some madness in love, but there
is also always some reason in madness.’
— Francesco Petrarca, born this day in 1304
He was the first to climb a mountain merely for the delight of
looking from its top.
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20 July 2010

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Seems to explain a lot, doesn’t it?
‘I once befriended two little girls from Estonia, who had narrowly
escaped death from starvation in a famine. They lived in my family, and
of course had plenty to eat. But they spent all their leisure visiting
neighbouring farms and stealing potatoes, which they hoarded.
Rockefeller, who in his infancy had experienced great poverty, spent his
adult life in a similar manner.’
— Bertrand Russell, from his
Nobel Lecture,
1950
A wise herd will learn to tolerate the eccentricity of those who rise
above
the average, and to treat with a minimum of ferocity those who
fall below it.
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21 July 2010

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Wikileaks
The most shocking misdeeds of governments and powerful corporations
can’t stand up to the light of day. When these actions become
unhidable, they will have to cease. Over the last decade, the
Internet has changed expectaions about what can be kept secret.
Wikileaks has facilitated the work of the whistleblower like nothing
before in history. Journalism as a mouthpiece for the powerful
cannot long endure.
“...We receive a classified document anonymously...we vet it like a
regular news organization...release it to the public, then defend
ourselves against the inevitable legal and political attacks...We almost
never know the identity of the source, and in the rare cases we find
out, we destroy that information immediately...
“What sort of information is important in the world? What sort
of information can achieve reform. There is a lot of information,
but information that large organizations are spending economic effort to
conceal — that’s a signal that when the information gets out there’s a
hope of it doing some good. That’s what we’ve found in practice, and
that’s what the history of journalism has shown.”
Watch Julian Assange at TED
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22 July 2010

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Do you have answer?
David Eagleman is a neuroscientist who flirts with positions that are
unacceptable to the scientific community: Is it possible that some
aspects of human consciousness are independent of the brain?
Eagelman calls himself a ‘possibilian’.
Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives is
a collection of fantasies about what out lives might really be about, as
discovered after they are over.
#10 ‘Spirals’ : In the afterlife, you discover that you are (were) a computing device
designed by dim-witted creatures who hoped you (we) would be able to
answer cosmic questions that the dim-witted creatures can’t figure out
themselves.
Listen to a reading
of this chapter from Eagleman’s fantasy, ‘Sum’
#7 ‘The
Cast’ : Do
people from the past play roles in your dreams? Acting in other
people’s dreams is a major occupation for souls in
the afterlife. Somebody’s got to do it.
Emily Blunt reads this chapter from ‘Sum’
Book review and interview by Robert Jensen
“As scientists, our goal in some sense is to reduce the mystery, but
that doesn’t reduce the awe”
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23 July 2010

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Apology
Think me not unkind and rude,
That I walk alone in grove and glen;
I go to the god of the wood
To fetch his word to men.
Tax not my sloth that I
Fold my arms beside the brook;
Each cloud that floated in the sky
Writes a letter in my book.
Chide me not, laborious band,
For the idle flowers I brought;
Every aster in my hand
Goes home loaded with a thought.
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There was never mystery,
But ’tis figured in the flowers,
Was never secret history,
But birds tell it in the bowers.
One harvest from thy field
Homeward brought the oxen strong;
A second crop thine acres yield,
Which I gather in a song.
— Ralph Waldo Emerson (listen)
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24 July 2010

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Q & A
Q: Would a computer programmed to be ‘conscious’ fear its own
death?
A: We can’t know whether a computer ‘feels’. We only know what we feel
ourselves, and we assume that other humans have comparable experiences.
To imagine that a computer program, however sophisticated, could feel
anything relies on one fashionable theory of what constitutes
consciousness.
Q: Would its behavior be consistent with fear? Would it take steps to
protect itself against pulling the plug, or disabling the program?
A: It would if the humans who programmed it chose to give it those
responses.
Q: Were humans programmed that way?
A: All living things were programmed to avoid death. Under a microscope,
you can observe behaviors of protozoans that look an awful lot like
fleeing for their lives.
Q: So do the protozoans fear death?
A: They have no brains, no nerves. It’s quite a stretch to imagine that
a paramecium feels anything at all, so their behaviors are best regarded
as purely reflexive. But for humans, behaviors and feelings can be
related in the paradoxical sense: We know we're happy when we feel
ourselves smile, and we know we're sad when we feel our tears. I
whistle a happy tune, and the happiness in the tune convinces me that
I’m not afraid.
Q: Is fear of death useful to humans?
A: Yes and no. It was useful to our ancestors to be able to flee from
predators with enhanced speed, fueled by adrenaline. For each of
us, there are a few crucial times in our lives in which the experience
of terror, the fight-or-flight hormones, the single-pointed
concentration, the will to fight for our lives serves us well.
Beyond this, it has become a cliche that without awareness of death,
life would not be precious or impassioned or zestful, that we would
squander our time in uninteresting ways. Perhaps this is true, or
perhaps it is an overblown, collective cry of ‘sour grapes’.
Q: Is fear of death harmful to humans?
A: Certainly it is. It is the root cause of a tragic epidemic of
depression in the elderly. For most of us, there are times when fear of
death distorts our emotional connection to the present. For some of us,
fear of death is ever-present and crippling, a lifelong obstacle to
lightheartedness and freedom.
Q: Supposing that chronic fear of mortality is both realistic and
crippling, is there anything that can be done about it? And if the fear
fear of dying can be lifted, will the thrill of living be dimmed or
enhanced?
A: I don’t know. I am encouraged by the insight that fear of death is a
programmed, evolutionary vestige, rather than a thoughtful response to
the human condition.
— Josh Mitteldorf
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25 July 2010

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Szymanowski
Just yesterday I discovered the music of Karol Szymanowski (Polish,
1882-1937). He reaches to capture the experience of mystical
ecstasy.
Listen to Three Myths, Op 30, for violin and piano, from Polish TV
1- La Fontaine
d'Aréthuse 2-
Narcisse
3- Dryades et Pan
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26 July 2010

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Ahimsa
Nonviolence does not mean that we respond to a violent world with
passivity and introspection. Rather, nonviolence is our commitment
to end war and oppression with courageous acts of passive confrontation,
because we know this means to be most effective in the long haul.
— Josh Mitteldorf
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27 July 2010

Gandhi
Salt March, 1930
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Beatrix Potter was strong-minded in an age when women were expected
to be obedient. She wrote and illustrated the children’s stories for which
she is so well known as a way to independence.
Beatrix Potter discovered the symbiotic nature of lichens, and
presented her results to a dubious biology community.
Beatrix Potter kept a
diary in secret code
from age 15-30, which was only deciphered (and published) 15 years after her death.
Happy Birthday, Beatrix, a dozen dozen years old today.
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28 July 2010

|
“Two aesthetics exist: the
passive aesthetic of mirrors and the active aesthetic of prisms. Guided
by the former, art turns into a copy of the environment’s objectivity or
the individual’s psychic history. Guided by the latter, art is
redeemed, makes the world into its instrument and forges, beyond spatial
and temporal prisons, a personal vision.”
—Jorge Luis Borges, from a
Suzanne Jill Levine interview on Borges
.
Listen to the interview
The Art of Poetry
To gaze at a river made of time and water
And remember Time is another river.
To know we stray like a river
and our faces vanish like water.
To feel that waking is another dream
that dreams of not dreaming, and that
the death we fear in our bones is the death
that every night we call a dream.
To see in every day and year a symbol
of all the days of man and his years,
and convert the outrage of the years
into a music, a sound, and a symbol.
To see in death a dream, in the sunset
a golden sadness—such is poetry,
humble and immortal, poetry,
returning, like dawn and the sunset.
|
Sometimes at evening there’s a face
that sees us from the deeps of a mirror.
Art must be that sort of mirror,
disclosing to each of us his face.
They say Ulysses, wearied of wonders,
wept with love on seeing Ithaca,
humble and green. Art is that Ithaca,
a green eternity, not wonders.
Art is endless like a river flowing,
passing, yet remaining, a mirror to the same
inconstant Heraclitus, who is the same
and yet another, like the river flowing.
—Jorge Luis Borges
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The composition of vast books is a laborious and impoverishing
extravagance. To go on for five hundred pages developing an idea whose
perfect oral exposition is possible in a few minutes! A better course of
procedure is to pretend that these books already exist, and then to
offer a resume, a commentary . . . More reasonable, more inept, more
indolent, I have preferred to write notes upon imaginary books.
—Borges, interviewed for Argentine radio, 10 November 1941
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29 July 2010

|
Arriving Again and Again Without Noticing
I remember all the different kinds of years.
Angry, or brokenhearted, or afraid.
I remember feeling like that
walking up a mountain along the dirt path
to my broken house on the island.
And long years of waiting in Massachusetts.
The winter walking and hot summer walking.
I finally fell in love with all of it:
dirt, night, rock and far views.
It's strange that my heart is as full
now as my desire was then.
— Linda Gregg
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30 July 2010

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Foundations
Life lies before us as a huge quarry lies before the architect.
He deserves not the name of architect except when, out of this
fortuitous mass of materials, he can combine with the greatest economy,
fitness and durability, some form, the pattern of which originated in
his own spirit...Believe me, most part of the misery and mischief, of
all that is denominated evil in the world, arises from the fact that men
are too remiss to get a proper knowledge of their aims and, when they do
get it, to work persistently in attaining them. They seem to me
like people who have taken up a notion that they must and will erect a
tower, but who yet expend on the foundation not more stones and labour
than would be sufficient for a hut.
—
Goethe
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31 July 2010

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