Kelly at the Pond [View all]

[H2O Man]

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"True civilization lies in the dominance of self, and not in the dominance of other men. Is not humanness a matter of heart and mind, and is it not evident in the form of relationships with man? Is not kindness more powerful than arrogance, and truth more powerful than the sword? I am going to venture that the man who sat on the ground in his tepee, meditating on life and its meaning, accepting the kinship of all the creatures, and acknowledging unity with the universe of things, was infusing into his being the true essence of civilization. And when native man left off this form of development, his humanization was retarded in growth."
-- Luther Standing Bear; Land of the Spotted Eagle; 1933.

Due to numerous morning/ early afternoon appointments, I have been spending more time at my pond in the evening. As I fill the bird-feeders with black oil sunflower seeds, a couple of dozen Koi swim over to the southwest "corner" of the pond. They know that they are about to be fed. And as soon an their evening meal hits the water's surface, hundreds of minnows -- from tiny to large -- create what Horace called "a poem without words" -- with countless small ripples intersecting on the pond's top.

Next, I toss more food into a deeper section of the water, which the trout inhabit. These fish tend to "jump" their meal, and the sight and sounds of their feeding is distinct from either Koi or minnow. Then, I take a seat in my old Adirondack rocker, and marvel at the display of colors on the Koi. Blue, green, red, orange, purple, yellow, and bright gold .... along with patches of black and white.

I believe that because human beings are the only non-essential participant in the web of life on earth, we benefit from recognizing the environment as school. Little children are aware of this, of course, and learn while playing at a pond or a waterfalls. Too often, US culture restricts people's ability to spend either quiet time or play time in a natural setting.

Each evening, my dog Kelly goes with me to the pond. He is a curious fellow: while both of his parents are jet black, he is white, with blue spots. Although he is primarily a boxer, he looks like a dalmatian. Kelly isn't big -- he weighs 75 pounds -- but is powerfully built. I get a kick out of watching him lower himself to the ground, and follow his nose in an odd, muscular crawl. While Kelly is good-natured around people (comically so), I have seen him become aggressive when stray dogs and coyote come onto our property/ Kelly's territory. So it makes me laugh when, in response to the trout jumping, he responds with anxious yips.

Thus, one of the laws of the universe was best noted by the late musician Harry Nilsson: "Everything is the exact opposite of what it really is."

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My son D called me after he finished work yesterday. He's doing construction on Long Island, saving up money in order to go back to school. He was accepted to start at SUNY-Binghamton in the fall.

About a week ago, at a neighborhood cook-out, D was talking to a lady that he described as "old, probably close to (my) age." She said that, with his formal training as a prison guard, he could get hired at the school where she teaches. While the position does pay well, he is stunned by the reality that a public school requires a prison guard with a different title.

Instead, he is interviewing for a job on a farm. He prefers that life-style to either construction or a school guard. "It just seems," he told me, "more like what human beings are supposed to do." A couple of urban co-workers made jokes about "farmers," he said, until he reminded him of who actually provides the best foods that humans consume.

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On Monday morning, I went to see an eye specialist; she immediately referred me to another, who works out of a regional "teaching" hospital. Looking back, I think the folks at the hospital recognized that I was a bit anxious, and so they would patiently explain what the various tests they subjected me to, were for. I told them that while I do not have a scientific mind, I have great admiration of those who do; more, while the information they were providing me with was fascinating, I would much prefer it was someone else's eyes.

Eventually, this specialist asked me if by chance I had ever been assaulted, or in a fight where I took hard blows to my head? Indeed, I had boxed in my youth. Why hadn't I mentioned that? It was decades ago, and not anything I would connect with my current circumstances.

Long story a little shorter: I learned that eyes get damaged in boxing, and that I have too much scar tissue in my eyes to allow my otherwise good vision to reach its potential. She told me that in her practice, she sees two general types of injuries: the ordinary, and the extraordinary. Guess what mine are? She then asked if I would mind being subjected to a couple other series of tests and exams. She said I should feel free to decline, as these would be both uncomfortable and not beneficial for me. I asked what they were for? Extra credit for the interns.

For the next two hours or so, I was shuffled from room to room, allowing numerous people the chance to gaze deeply into my eyes. D said that this demonstrates my obsessive-repulsive need to be at the center of attention. He noted that I had traveled about 100 miles as a result of this attention-seeking behavior.

I figure that if damage was done while boxing, it is a lot easier for me to deal with it. For boxing was the one bright spot in my early life. My wife sees it differently; she focuses on the harm that boxing did long-term. Clearly, one of us views it exactly the opposite of what it actually was.

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On one hand, human beings are savages -- the same as our primitive ancestors. We're just better-dressed, and enjoy the benefits of modern technology. On the other hand, we are Earth flowers, as unique individually as a single dandelion. These were the thoughts that I was thinking as the sun set. Then, as the darkness fell, I thoroughly enjoyed looking up at the stars, while listening to the song of the "peeper" frogs.

Eventually, I came inside, and watched a re-run of "Real Time with Bill Maher." It's a show that I sometimes watch with three of my children, who think Maher is an impressive thinker. I tend to see him more as an above-average comedian, who from time to time nails a social commentary. But tonight, I heard him talking about Willard Romney's nonsense about Barack Obama resenting other people's successes. And then, Maher asked, "Does Mitt really believe he is more successful than Obama?" He noted that Romney was the son of wealth, who has gained in wealth; Obama, on the other hand, was born into a single-parent family on food stamps. Mitt has made a fortune off of other people's suffering; Barack became the first black President of the United States.

Why, I wondered, were comedy shows now a better source of socio-political discussion than most of the "news" media? When did it change so sharply? Might have been around the time that public schools began hiring prison guards. There are many ways in which it is true that a democrat in the White House resembles a republican in that same setting. But make no mistake: that is far more defined by the job, than by comparisons of personal being. No matter how large his bank account may be, George W. Bush is an utter failure in the sense of successfully being a good and mature human being. The internal ethical system of Joe Biden is far superior to the rotten scum of a Dick Cheney. While Biden and Cheney may hold the same job, they are as different as sugar and shit.

Why is it that our culture considers holding the office of a politician, being seated as a supreme court judge, or being a slick businessman who commits "legal" theft each and every day, to be a true sign of "success"? And at the same time, a friend once reminded me, that it is viewed as not only okay, even legitimate -- but actually fashionable -- to be a petty, racist, sexist, egotistical, mean, envious, malicious snake -- so long as you hold political/ economic power?

This is a sick society.

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I asked my wife and daughters if they wanted to go sleep out in our cabin near the pond? Their need to get up early for work and school prevented that from happening. And so, after they went up to bed, Kelly and I went out for a walk around the pond.

It's not a really big pond, by any means. Certainly not a lake. But it shares in that greatness of the water-cycle here on earth; it provides for the fish and frogs and salamanders, and other creatures living in the water, and for the plant and animal life surrounding it. My sons and daughters have built numerous flower beds and put up bird houses and feeders. It is my favorite spot on earth.

It seems curious, indeed, that a portion of our society would view a habitat like this as a natural resource to be used to hydrofrack for gas .... and that making money off of it, despite ruining the site, and poisoning all the life in contact with it, is the true measure of success. Worse, the very minds that are diseased with greed and destruction, are those that this society continues to view as "leaders," and recognizes their "power." But that is the exact opposite of their true being: they do not achieve results by way of self-discipline that brings out their good potential; instead, they are ruled by external and violent forces, which can only result in destruction, disease, and death.

Kelly comes back after a long run around the field and some woods. He cools off for a moment in the pond, and drinks his fill. Then he attempts to jump up on my lap, demanding my attention. I do believe this is his favorite spot, too.