So Far From Heaven

Jack wrote this in July, 2005:

The men in this picture, those of them who are still alive, are now enjoying their sixth decade of life. But, this picture finds them a lot younger, somewhere along the Han River in Korea, a few days after the assassination of President John Kennedy.

Most of us (I’m behind the camera, not one of the uglies down range) were drafted, or had enlisted during the Berlin Crisis of 1961, thinking there were a lot of Russians about to be in need of killing.

Thinking we were just the guys to do it.

By the time of picture we were a lot less gung-ho. We were getting ‘short’, and most of us had a jaundiced view of the whole US attempt to save the world from itself. The only firing we’d done with those M-14s had been a month earlier, at the Division Honor Guard down in a rice paddy below us one night, while they fired their own M-14s and a .30 caliber machine gun back at us.

A case of mistaken identity following an incursion across the DMZ a few miles north of us by an unknown number of ‘bad guys’.

However, despite our best efforts, nobody killed, nobody injured. A good time was had by all after we changed our underwear.

Today, despite the fact the poverty we saw in Korea is gone, despite the fact the ROK has a healthier economy than the US, along with a fine military force, despite the fact the International Communist Conspiracy died following Vietnam, despite the fact the Russkies packed up their tents and went home to contemplate their navels in peace, young Americans are still over there.

Maybe they’re standing right there where Zeke Rapoza’s squatted, sneering into a camera held by another GI, thinking similar thoughts to those the young old men in that picture were thinking a few days after the world changed.

But today we’re no longer having to save the world from Communism. Instead, the world is trying to think of ways to save itself from us.

Bye, bye Miss American Pie.

Jack

Written several years previously, Jack posted this in July, 2005:

The Great Tick Migration

Dateline, Socorro, NM

It’s sad, but they have to migrate: there’s no good water in the Rio Grande anymore.  It’s all sewage passed downstream from Albuquerque and other towns.

This was almost home to them. Their ancestors arrived with the first cattle drives from Texas in the 1880s. But finally they’ve had enough. Lemminglike they’ve decided as one to return home, Lone Star Ticks to the Lone Star State, same as those Confederate Texas humans had to finally stagger and stumble home when things took a turn for the worst..

This far south they’ve just begun to gather; just started to come out from under the grassleaves, the treebark, stragglers still coming out of the brush. The main migration gathering is further north in the Isleta lands, Lost Lunas, and up by Belen.

There they’ve mostly already grouped. They’ve dropped off the rats, cows, deer, dogs and coyotes. The earliest ones are drifting south ahead of the others. They’re the lucky ones. Those got far enough south yesterday to find a stray muskrats along the river and get a little something to eat. The stragglers will find it hard going.

It’s sad, but hopeful: tiny seed ticks huddling close to their mamas at night, the great herd constricting in the cold dark, mama and daddy ticks worrying about the great crossing of the Jornada del Muerto, about the dearth of animals on the Jornada. But also knowing in their tiny network of neurons passing for a brain, that once further south, things will still not be easy……the migration there, the gathering will have already emptied the countryside of hosts, bloodmeals will be a rarity.

When those Isleta and Lost Lunas ticks get as far south as Socorro, the southern ticks will have eaten away everything available. Fishermen will know something’s up by then; they’ll be staying away from the river bottom country sensing some new thing, some change in the atmosphere near the river, hectored by the early gathering; the dogs, the feral cats, the rodents, all driven away from the river bottom by the strange new presence of so many tiny pests.

The animals left will be sucked dry. Probably when the latecomers reach Socorro they’ll have to take their chances in town. Maybe they’ll find pets or townspeople for a last meal before they try to cross the dreaded Jornada del Muerto.

Some of them will drift up onto the freeway to find broken-down motorists with flat tires or dead batteries. Truck drivers stopped to urinate by the road or unsuspecting drunks sleeping with the window opened a crack to release the foul tobacco smoke from inside the car will save a few. Maybe an unlucky hitchhiker sleeping under a bridge or one of the frequent escapees from the prison or jail; some hapless hobo along the railroad, waiting for the next train.

If the motorist doesn’t get bitten by too many at once there’ll be a chance for a jump south by vehicle across the Jornada and avoiding the hard crossing….a quick ride to Cruces, or Truth or Consequences, or El Paso for a small group if they don’t get greedy and just take it easy on the driver. But so many of these younger ticks want everything now.

It might be hard going for them when they get down toward Cruces. That’s where they’ll first meet the newly arrived fire ants. Also, those deep southern ticks will resent their presence, nudging their little fat grey bodies aside as they scramble in a fold of flesh for a foothold and a meal. And ahead, Texas.

The ancestral homeland.
Renewal.

Yes, it’s sad, of the hundreds of millions of ticks starting home; tens of millions won’t make it. There’ll be stained smudges on the freeway where they try to cross, but many run over by recklessly speeding cars. Thousands clogging the river with their tiny carcasses where the water rose unexpectedly during a crossing, catching many unaware, the long march, the trail of tears, the trek home; so many dead, so many lost, the seed ticks, the mama ticks, the large swollen soft ticks shriveled and wrinkled with hardship….so many friends left back there along the trail, so many loved ones, lost, so many seed ticks lying there in the massive killing fields along the route.

But they’ll do as they can, do as they are able, do as they must, heading south on that lonely migration that long dusty trek, always knowing they won’t be welcomed by their distant kinsmen. The plethora of ticks in Texas, those hungry, selfish younger generation ticks will push and shove on the hosts, fighting for the best positions in and behind the ears, high on the necks where teeth cant reach, tiny skirmishes and struggles for position everywhere; on cows, on dogs, on rodents, in the thick hair of women and unreconstructed hippy men in cowboy hats..

As always, those selfish Texas ticks will not agree to share their bounty. They’ll fight despite the sad happiness of the return of their distant relations.

Jack

Jack wrote this in October, 2006:

Old Jules, what are your thoughts about ethics and morals?

If I happened to be a Christian, which I’m not, I’d be searching around for an analogy to contrast ethics and morals.

I’d probably offer the first four books of the NT as an example of a rudimentary ethical code codified by the reports of those around him of the words, intents and behaviors of Jesus. I’d go on then to label everything Saul of Tarsus and his gang added to create the doctrinalization, hierarchy, the ‘what-he-intended-to-convey’ side of it all as an attempt to create a moral platform within the overall context of the first four books.

As for my own moral code:

1] Specifics over generalities
2] Personal loyalties over abstractions enshrined in law, nationalism, patriotism, religion
3] Trust, but never believe
4] Follow the gut, not the gonads
5] Belly up to the bar whether they’re serving beer or horse-piss.

Old Jules, isn’t one of the greatest things about America that you don’t have to worry about special interests extra-judiciously and maliciously coercing you into silence instead of pursuing you justly through a court system?

No. One of the greatest things about America is that the Chinese have bought up so much of our national debt. Some other good things about America are the auto parts houses and the fact you can buy a bread-making machine at a thrift store for five bucks. Another great thing about America is that people can go their whole lives without ever seeing anything they eat while it was alive, which allows them to feel smug if they don’t eat meat but eat eggs produced by factory-farmed chickens spending their whole lives inside a 2′ wire cubes.

Old Jules, why is it important to love yourself?

Making yourself someone you can love and respect requires a lot of work and a lot of courage. There’s no way you can make anyone else someone you can love and respect, so the only building materials available to bring love into your life involve those you can mold within yourself.

Jack wrote this on an energy healing forum in response to a question about attuning an animal to Reiki. For those not familiar, Reiki is an energy transfer method which increases the ability of the body to heal itself, among other uses. A person must be introduced to Reiki (attuned)  by another practitioner. I was the person who attuned Jack, but his healing skills went far beyond most who have been attuned. I think it intensified a natural ability that he already had to manipulate energy.
Most traditional Reiki users would never have even thought of attuning an animal. And most teachers like to attach rules about how the energy should be used, or can be used. As usual, Jack did things his own way.

Hi Jack.. can you please tell me how to attune a cat to Reiki?

The Reiki Master who attuned you should have instructed you on how to do
attunements. If that didn’t happen you might want to get back in touch with
him/her and have them explain it. If the person who attuned you was a
traditional Reiki Master, you’d probably want to explain, also, what you
contemplate doing with the technique, once you learn it, so you can hear
what someone besides me believes about the sort of thing I do. I suspect a
lot of people would believe there’s a downside. I’m non-traditional in most
things I do and I’m non-traditional in Reiki.

Attuning cats as a technique is no different than attuning humans. The only
difference is that you can’t explain the use of the symbols to them in a way
they’ll understand. I use exactly the same process for attuning them as any
Reiki Master would use for close proximity attunement. If I were attuning
some cat in Chicago I’d use the same process I use for attuning by distance,
but I’d have to know a lot more about a cat than I’d need to know about a
human distance-attunement because it’s so difficult to connect to an animal
I don’t know and can’t see.

I never attune wild animals, birds or the wild domestic cats outside to
anything higher than first level. That’s partly because I can’t get them to
sit still long enough, but there are other reasons, too.

I originally attuned my cats because they’re participants in so much else I
do. I discussed the issue with another Reiki Master and some lower-degree
Reiki attuned people before I did it. There was a general trepidation about
it for the most part. But I believe a Reiki Attunement is a purely positive
event in the life of any creature. I didn’t originally do it to my cats for
precisely that reason, but having done so I realized that to be true.
They’ve both been attuned for about a year and they haven’t finished the
growth process that appears to have begun with the third level attunement…
they’re still both in a state of rapid behavioral change. Before the
attunements both cats were several years old and more or less set in their
ways and predictable in their behavior. Now they’re full of surprises and
the surprises are all either neutral (though frequently enigmatic) or
positive. I have some theories about what’s happening to them, but there’s
no point in discussing it at this point because it’s all theory.

I’ve attuned a lot of ravens in my area to first degree, also. It’s
difficult to be certain, because ravens have a lot of strange behaviors
anyway, but my upstairs neighbor (who knows nothing about any of this off
the wall stuff including dowsing, Reiki, mirrors and other things I do) has
commented a number of times about recent unusual raven behavior in our
immediate area.

Some of the other (non-Reiki) things I do involve attunements but I don’t
use them on non-humans. I’d be afraid to do that. But I don’t believe a
strictly Reiki attunement can result in anything other than positive
outcomes for anything in this reality and I don’t think any non-human
creature could intuit ways the attunement could be used in a non-positive
way. One of the ways I’m non-traditional is that I’m convinced the secrecy
of arcane societies, arcane methods and tools, and arcane lore has held back
advancement of the development of the human soul. I believe in the process
of hoarding and guarding the knowledge the users of arcane tools have either
caused, or maintained the compartmentalizaton of concepts and inhibited the
general realization that all this is ‘the same stuff’. Secrecy isn’t my bag.

Best to you,
Jack

Jack wrote this in July, 2005:

Old Jules, do you think is it always One Man-One Woman (or other couple situations) or can we have a bunch of best friends in our life with whom we can share everything in our life?

Any relationship not involving ownership and dependency would be an improvement in my opinion. My personal view is that most male/female relationships get serious a bit prematurely and that sets of unspoken expectations result. Assumed agreements never agreed to by both parties, frequently never even verbalized, which eventually lead to accusations, misunderstandings, more unspoken resentments and guilt.

I think human beings would do better in relationships if they sat down when they saw something serious coming down the pike, each carefully thinking through how much and what he/she expects of a partner in a meaningful relationship, writes it down and thoroughly discusses every aspect and nuance, short-term and long term.

Probably even something in the form of a written contract each can draw out in future times, examine what he/she actually agreed to and whether behavior has actually fallen short of it, or whether ex-post-facto expectations have crept in and become a source of problems.

Of the countless failed relationships I’ve observed [and experienced] over the past decades I believe most wouldn’t have developed at all beyond something temporary and pleasant, or wouldn’t have failed eventually had this been part of the early process.

But I’ve also observed that during the early stages both sides are hiding, holding back, avoiding all manner of matters and expectations which will later become important. Tacit dishonesty based on the ‘I don’t like this about him/her, but I’ll work on changing him/her after he/she is ‘hooked’.

Though probably nobody consciously comes out and directly articulates it to himself/herself.

Old Jules, what’s something unique and strange that makes you, you?

I’m a hermit getting along towards 70 years old living in the middle of nowhere in Texas. I talk to my large flock of free ranging chickens and my four cats. I don’t listen to the radio, don’t have a television, and I once almost went an entire presidential term without knowing who was prez. I became a private pilot by buying an airplane, hiring an instructor, firing him when I got sick of his antics and soloing myself. I had more than 500 hours logged before I ever applied to take an FAA test ride and get a license.

Old Jules, why should I live a life without purpose or happiness?
For a non-drinker the phrase, “You never water good whiskey down,” is meaningless.

I don’t drink much but on special occasions I enjoy a shot of sipping whiskey.
If there’s a reason you should live your life without purpose or happiness it might be because you eventually discover you’ve been watering down good whiskey and all you need to do is take it straight and sip.

Old Jules, has your life been what you expected? If not, in the end does it really matter?

I don’t believe I could have ever imagined much of it ahead of time, but it’s a smile and it’s been a constant adventure. When people talk about being bored I file it away as something to look into next lifetime to see if it’s as interesting as not being bored.

I don’t believe anything about this lifetime is going to end unless I manage to figure out how to do it right so’s I don’t get into the same set of challenges next time around. The prospect gives me a strong motive.

Jack wrote this in June, 2005:

aye’ made a comment on this blog a couple of entries ago that I’ve been thinking about some. Comment was an observation obliquely involving focus.

Brought to mind something I saw a few years ago over an extended period, sort of fits.

The hottest blackjack dealer I’ve ever seen was a young man who looked straight ahead, watched the whole table out of the corners of his eyes, peripheral. He didn’t want to be hot. It killed his tips when he emptied the table and filled the tray with player chips. Almost every new dealer is hot for a few months, but this kid dealt for two years, remained hot as a two-dollar pistol.

Well, I got to be on pretty good terms with him…. he was a Laguna, and I had some interests on tribal lands ‘way off south on the Rez, so we made a trip or two together, but talking about his ‘hot’ problem. He didn’t know what to make of it.

There are some not-too-generally-known ‘psi’ practices that also involve doing just about what he was doing to make things happen…. looking at things out of the ‘corner-of-your-eye-of-the-mind’.

I’d wondered if maybe that wasn’t what he was doing without knowing it.

So I suggested that he try just allowing his eyes to wander over the table and cut out that staring straight ahead thing he did.

It brought immediate improvement…. he started losing about the right amount, same as other dealers.

Then he did something stupid coincidental with his having to pee into a bottle a few days later on a random test and lost his job.

Nice kid, though.

Jack

Jack wrote this in February, 2006:

If you remember them they’re best forgotten.

So, here we are, blogsters.  Good morning to you.

Another Presidents Day’s rolled around.  I hope it hasn’t caught you unprepared.  All you bank employees, Postal workers, government agency employees home from work getting ready to kick up your heels in remembrance.

Hope you got all your shopping done early.  However, today I want to remind you of a couple of things that are often forgotten, get lost in all the hoopla of Presidents Day, most venerated of times.

Think of Franklin Pierce, of Millard Fillmore, of McKinley, Taft and Dwight Eisenhower.

What makes for a truly great President of the US, blogsters?  What symptoms of greatness do you search for?

He’s forgotten.

He managed to pass through the office of President without doing anything much to be remembered for.  He didn’t get enough of his fellow Americans killed to stick in the headlines of memory.

That’s right, blogsters.  The greatest US Presidents are the ones who let the country run itself as it’s supposed to.  They didn’t try to be kings.

They let Congress do the jobs Congress is charged to do by the Constitution, they signed and vetoed Bills put before them by Congress, they signed budget proposals, and didn’t get overly impressed with the powers of office.  If there was a war to be fought, they let Congress declare it to be so, and if Congress hadn’t done so they got us the hell out of it.

They managed to remember that Americans never really wanted a king.

Franklin Pierce,  Millard Fillmore, McKinley, Taft, Dwight Eisenhower and the others you can’t recall.

Those were the great US Presidents.  The ones with names you don’t recognize.  The ones who didn’t try to be kings.

Jack