What doesn't kill you

There was a time when we looked askance at granola crunchers who wore Birkenstocks and socks--they made some effort at respectability even then--but that's all in the past now. Somehow Nietzsche became new age, and Robert Louis Stevenson a herald from Ecclesiastes.

If you read the side of a Sleepytime tea box, you'll see a quote from Nitch to the effect that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. So you are meant to sip at your Sleepytime--careful not to let anything slip or drip between the cup and the lip--and therewith drain the day of all ambition, comforting your gray hairs with the realization that you have addressed stress effectively and somehow survived the yoga stretch.

Not to be forgotten in this context is Nature's Path Pumpkin Flax Granola, which features, on an inside flap a quote from Robert Louis Stevenson--Don't judge a day by how much you reap, but by how many seeds you sew/ Somehow Stevenson is broadcasting for the New Age variation on the Canadian Bible Society theme. As you sow, so ye shall reap.

Seeds come in all shapes and sizes. The Bible Society collects cancelled stamps it sells onwards to collectors. Ten pounds of used postage buys 6 Bibles for their prison ministry.

Image result for vintage canadian bible society

Write on, write on, write on. Have you seen a movie lately. You're sure going to get a surprise. Wish I could find that song--some search engine some day.

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Animals and aliens

When you think of Orwell's Animal Farm , you get stuck on the idea of some being more equal than others. But world peace, galactic harmony, the celebration of diversity and the active practice of inclusion are all achieved in science fiction by casting minorities in the role of animals and aliens. Star Trek comes to mind in this regard, where even hippies were disposed of, Federation style, as sensitive dissenting aliens, not forgetting Spock with his pointy ears! And then there were Wookiees, still man's best friend. Viewing animals as humans--anthropomorphizing--or treating different races as aliens, all of this is shape shifting. This shape is my shade, there where I used to stand--that's Steely Dan.

Things always end in the Summer

In the middle of the second major heatwave of the season, the City cut the wildflowers along the footpath. I mean they cut everything 30 inches on either side of the pavement, but since the flowers were my friends, all I saw was that they cut the flowers, even though they actually mowed indiscriminately. And it must have been a chore for the labourer in this heat, so his feet were heavy when he made hay of the prettiest parts of the Summer. But I can't get to that right now; I'm still reeling from the loss of chicory, and the other pinks and yellows and blues whose names I was just beginning to learn. "Program, get your program", I heard the barker call on my way to the bleachers. I turned once and caught his eye, and looked at the program in his hand and back into his eyes--all the while his eyes following mine--but then he looked back to his hand, and again into my eyes and he said "You can't tell the player without a card"! Did it matter that ...

The city mover beat me to the chicory this evening maybe if I had passed by earlier I could have caught a glimpse of them but they will rise Phoenix like from the close cropped pile of grass and weed and present their brash and uneven beauty once again before the need for carpet and trimming loops of magic made by subterranean rug weavers is once again mandated and duly executed by the city crew in the burnt orange cabs of their ride along mowers browning the backs of their hands and letting the heat weather beat their faces to match the cabs and fulfill some unspoken contract between landscaping and maintenance and the gods of Chance Fortune as ever favouring the bold there will be other routs of the mover before the Summer is done and more rain hopefully if I can contain the fear of thunderheads building and more returns of visible biodiversity Nature never surrenders unconditionally but like a lover choosing her battl...

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