Sunday, May 09, 2004
More Change is . . .
Welp, "all good things come to pass not to stay", as Eric Butterworth used to say. Eric was/is one of my earliest spiritual mentors, whom I was privileged to know and work for during the early years of my recovery, while living in New York City. And it is time for this blog to move on into an early retirement . . .
It's amazing -- it is almost eleven months to the day, since I opened it up early last summer on June 9th, when I first knew I was going to start this journey to the otherside of the world; time do, indeed, skip the light fantastic right on by . . .
During the last several weeks, I have become aware that some folks in Nonviolent Peaceforce are concerned about what I write here, about how I express my experience. They are concerned that it might negatively impact upon my status as a professional employed by Nonviolent Peaceforce. This makes sense. I started this blog specifically to focus on the incredible honor and privilege I experience in serving in Sri Lanka as a Peace Worker. However, there is much else in my life, some of it quite grand, some of it exceedingly painful, that I also write about that is outside of my professional affiliaton with Nonviolent Peaceforce. Therefore, I have made a decision, which I conveyed this week to Jan, the Team Manager, to greatly reduce my blogging activity here at "Sri Lanka on my mind and in my heart . . ."
I have opened up a new blog, much more general, more universal, and broader in scope than this blog has been. Though I'm sure I shall include much material on it about life as a Peace Worker, it is not focused specifically on my experience here in Sri Lanka. It's entitled "And the Various Journeys Continue . . ." ; as I describe it, "I shall explore and express my various journeys, internal as well as external -- those now, those before and those planned . . ."
It has a few more bells and whistles on it, including a marvelous feature that enables readers to interactively communicate with me and others. Readers can post their comments about my postings. I'll also be able to make up photo albums, as well as upload links to much of my previous writings, both poetry and prose, memoir pieces and reflections. It will serve me more generally as a web site.
So there you have it; it's been a good run, and I am exceedingly grateful for all I have learned and experienced here in this little corner of the blogiverse . . .
It's amazing -- it is almost eleven months to the day, since I opened it up early last summer on June 9th, when I first knew I was going to start this journey to the otherside of the world; time do, indeed, skip the light fantastic right on by . . .
During the last several weeks, I have become aware that some folks in Nonviolent Peaceforce are concerned about what I write here, about how I express my experience. They are concerned that it might negatively impact upon my status as a professional employed by Nonviolent Peaceforce. This makes sense. I started this blog specifically to focus on the incredible honor and privilege I experience in serving in Sri Lanka as a Peace Worker. However, there is much else in my life, some of it quite grand, some of it exceedingly painful, that I also write about that is outside of my professional affiliaton with Nonviolent Peaceforce. Therefore, I have made a decision, which I conveyed this week to Jan, the Team Manager, to greatly reduce my blogging activity here at "Sri Lanka on my mind and in my heart . . ."
I have opened up a new blog, much more general, more universal, and broader in scope than this blog has been. Though I'm sure I shall include much material on it about life as a Peace Worker, it is not focused specifically on my experience here in Sri Lanka. It's entitled "And the Various Journeys Continue . . ." ; as I describe it, "I shall explore and express my various journeys, internal as well as external -- those now, those before and those planned . . ."
It has a few more bells and whistles on it, including a marvelous feature that enables readers to interactively communicate with me and others. Readers can post their comments about my postings. I'll also be able to make up photo albums, as well as upload links to much of my previous writings, both poetry and prose, memoir pieces and reflections. It will serve me more generally as a web site.
So there you have it; it's been a good run, and I am exceedingly grateful for all I have learned and experienced here in this little corner of the blogiverse . . .
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Double-vision zapped . . .
Just like in a video war game, rippling the subtle muscles under my bronzed-skinned forefinger, I gallantly opened several screens, multi-tasking the whole way through the help menus, not too frantic, and zapped, I mean eliminated like greased-lightening, the second of the double post I made of the previous post. Apologies to those who had to scroll through the same stuff twice; for those of you who didn't skip to the last paragraph . . .
Wonder how I did dat??? No matter, another digital mystery lost forever, but not irrevocably, in the kosmos of my inner reality . . .
I must say that I am quite humbly grateful for the most kind words that a new blogger acquaintance Ronni made on her most thoughtful and moving site about my digital efforts here. Ronni's blog explores with incredible grace the realities and surrealities of the aging process, which isn't quite the anathema that those of us who came of age in the 60s thought it would be, when in the hubris of our callow youth we thought we wouldn't make it past 30. She demonstrates with dignity and elegance how blessed we are to be experiencing the wisdom of surviving ourselves to be able to fully experience the "golden years" in these troubled times with all the energy that our elephant in the middle of the demographic chart has also been . . .
Wonder how I did dat??? No matter, another digital mystery lost forever, but not irrevocably, in the kosmos of my inner reality . . .
I must say that I am quite humbly grateful for the most kind words that a new blogger acquaintance Ronni made on her most thoughtful and moving site about my digital efforts here. Ronni's blog explores with incredible grace the realities and surrealities of the aging process, which isn't quite the anathema that those of us who came of age in the 60s thought it would be, when in the hubris of our callow youth we thought we wouldn't make it past 30. She demonstrates with dignity and elegance how blessed we are to be experiencing the wisdom of surviving ourselves to be able to fully experience the "golden years" in these troubled times with all the energy that our elephant in the middle of the demographic chart has also been . . .
And the tunes go on . . .
Have almost finished downloading another hour or so of music from iTunes. Most cool. The day is wending down to a gentle finish. That's good. Gentle is good. And so is my final latte of the day . . .
You know, I never did load up any of the picture of the ruins from Polonnuwaru that I took last week. Now is as good a time as any to do so. Here is . . .
A Southern Asia Hot Tub from the 8th Century, which has been nomikered The Lotus Pond.
A headless Buddha in the normal straight male position . . .
This statue is a bit unusual in that the male statue of Buddha has been made in the three-curved position normally reserved for female statues instead of the standard upright male form as the previous picture.
One of the most famous of Sri Lanka's many archeological sites is Gal Vihara, a series of Buddha statues which mark the highpoint of images carved in rock, including this large reclining Buddha.
I also got a lovely shot of a pensive monkey perhaps seeking the Buddha within, or else he was obsessively waxing nostalgic for what's her name . . .
Music is finished downloading, so nuff for this bloggin' now . . .
You know, I never did load up any of the picture of the ruins from Polonnuwaru that I took last week. Now is as good a time as any to do so. Here is . . .
A Southern Asia Hot Tub from the 8th Century, which has been nomikered The Lotus Pond.
A headless Buddha in the normal straight male position . . .
This statue is a bit unusual in that the male statue of Buddha has been made in the three-curved position normally reserved for female statues instead of the standard upright male form as the previous picture.
One of the most famous of Sri Lanka's many archeological sites is Gal Vihara, a series of Buddha statues which mark the highpoint of images carved in rock, including this large reclining Buddha.
I also got a lovely shot of a pensive monkey perhaps seeking the Buddha within, or else he was obsessively waxing nostalgic for what's her name . . .
Music is finished downloading, so nuff for this bloggin' now . . .
Another day in Colombo . . .
Where I have been since Monday late afternoon, basking in the glories of broadband. I'm sitting at the Delifrance Cafe, listening to smooth jazz, savoring lattes, watching the Pretty People, same as in Bloomies in my favorite NYC or Park Place in my second favorite Tucson, and jacked-in to their WI-FI, grooving like the 60s to fast connectivity. I've updated all my software and been downloading music from iTunes like crazy, lightening-fast. I mean it's almost like being in a Starbucks back in a very distant place called home, except Chutney's not waiting for me outside in the Miata, nor is Bonnie nearby to cuddle with . . .
The rains have continued to pour on and off teemingly, which unfortunately thwarted my hopes to view a total eclipse of the moon last night. Oh well, nor has my heart been totally eclipsed, as the 80s, I think, song (Shanna Easton?) bemoaned . . .
Yesterday was the Vesak holiday which is a special Poya day celebration of the full moon. It is the celebration of the Buddha's birthday, like the Christian Christmas. The tradition is that everyone hangs out very fancifully decorated lanterns with lights on the front of the house. Quite delightful. No, I didn't bring my camera. The rains abated enough for me to have a lovely twilight run and to get out and enjoy a delicious Pakistani meal without getting soaked. Today is also a bank and business holiday, so I shall have to stay in Colombo tomorrow as well to finish my other business besides broadbanding . . .
Time has been spent reading too much sadness about the inability of our species to accept and learn from the utter futility of war. We keep being shocked and in awe of the brutality that U.S. soldiers are capable of, like what they do is as innocuous as a Nindendo video game. Looks like all the wheels of the Iraq war are coming off simultaneously, especially with the photos of the rampant, systemic abuse at Abu Ghaib Prison. A really silly belief that our species clings to is that there is such a thing as a clean and honorable war, that rules of engagement and effective command and control will make killing and wounding, whether of combatant or civilians caught in the crossfire, by whatever means -- sniper, AC-130 gunship, K-bar, cluster bomb, Tomahawk missle from afar -- humane, civilized, morally justified.
Such moronic hubris for our society to believe that Mars is other than the voracious god HE has always been, who takes no prisoners, who leaves no one irrevocably unchanged into something more beast than human. Just so sad to see the pictures of son Tommy's generation of young men, along with young women -- that's different from Vietnam, worse, slathering in the belly of the Beast. The ghosts of My Lai haunt the American Public again, and it is very early in the second year, not the fifth, of combat. I doubt we shall ever, as a nation, as a people, as a species learn. Maybe we are not supposed to . . .
The rains have continued to pour on and off teemingly, which unfortunately thwarted my hopes to view a total eclipse of the moon last night. Oh well, nor has my heart been totally eclipsed, as the 80s, I think, song (Shanna Easton?) bemoaned . . .
Yesterday was the Vesak holiday which is a special Poya day celebration of the full moon. It is the celebration of the Buddha's birthday, like the Christian Christmas. The tradition is that everyone hangs out very fancifully decorated lanterns with lights on the front of the house. Quite delightful. No, I didn't bring my camera. The rains abated enough for me to have a lovely twilight run and to get out and enjoy a delicious Pakistani meal without getting soaked. Today is also a bank and business holiday, so I shall have to stay in Colombo tomorrow as well to finish my other business besides broadbanding . . .
Time has been spent reading too much sadness about the inability of our species to accept and learn from the utter futility of war. We keep being shocked and in awe of the brutality that U.S. soldiers are capable of, like what they do is as innocuous as a Nindendo video game. Looks like all the wheels of the Iraq war are coming off simultaneously, especially with the photos of the rampant, systemic abuse at Abu Ghaib Prison. A really silly belief that our species clings to is that there is such a thing as a clean and honorable war, that rules of engagement and effective command and control will make killing and wounding, whether of combatant or civilians caught in the crossfire, by whatever means -- sniper, AC-130 gunship, K-bar, cluster bomb, Tomahawk missle from afar -- humane, civilized, morally justified.
Such moronic hubris for our society to believe that Mars is other than the voracious god HE has always been, who takes no prisoners, who leaves no one irrevocably unchanged into something more beast than human. Just so sad to see the pictures of son Tommy's generation of young men, along with young women -- that's different from Vietnam, worse, slathering in the belly of the Beast. The ghosts of My Lai haunt the American Public again, and it is very early in the second year, not the fifth, of combat. I doubt we shall ever, as a nation, as a people, as a species learn. Maybe we are not supposed to . . .
Sunday, May 02, 2004
Change Is . . .
A brand new look on the same old srilankanjourney blog . . .
Feel pretty pleased with myself that I with only minimum frustration was able to actually actuate adding links to my blog, which as is rather obvious necessitated a new theme with this rather garish new look, but I'm not complaining. Who says an old dog can't larm hisself some new tricks . . .
I've added three of my favorite bloggers, and over the next several days/weeks/months/whatever, as I delve deeper into the interactive blogiverse, I shall no doubt be adding more.
Time to take a break, have some lunch, and just be with the still gently falling rain . . .
Feel pretty pleased with myself that I with only minimum frustration was able to actually actuate adding links to my blog, which as is rather obvious necessitated a new theme with this rather garish new look, but I'm not complaining. Who says an old dog can't larm hisself some new tricks . . .
I've added three of my favorite bloggers, and over the next several days/weeks/months/whatever, as I delve deeper into the interactive blogiverse, I shall no doubt be adding more.
Time to take a break, have some lunch, and just be with the still gently falling rain . . .
The Rains Are Teeming Again . . .
And I am pensive. A bit down. This too shall pass.
What bummed me was a little while ago I was in the kitchen fixing Soraia and I cups of coffee. A flying insect flew onto to my arm. Instinctively, without a moment’s hesitation, I smashed that bugger into pulverized squash. Then a roach crept out of the drain into the sink. Whop, that sucker was a deader too.
I stood there, frozen in a moment of viciously violent time, and broke down sobbing -- An object lesson from the Kosmos of just how inherently brutal I can be despite all my strivings to acquire compassion for all living things. A moment of humility to reflect on Tat Twam Asi, “I art thou.” To remember that when I point the finger of judgmental criticism, as I so readily do, at Bush or Cheney or Wolfowitz or Rumsfield, at the excessive violence of our mighty military machine, which could easily set off an unraptured Armageddon -- we have enough WMDs to wipe out every living entity on the planet, except maybe for the cockroaches, 50 or more times to the nth or so power, and if we do I seriously doubt that this is part of any God’s plan for us. When in hubris, I point that finger of self-righteous judgment, which is usually as well accompanied with an overflowing of justified resentment/rage, further putting me at risk for a self-imposed stroke, When I do that, as much of the previous diatribic ramblings have been, three fingers are pointing that destructive energy back at me . . .
I let the tears flow. I was graced just to step back and to watch, to witness the heaving sobs within me. I breathed deeply, focusing my attention on the tusumini roaring within me, and I soon returned to calmness. I was able to extend forgiveness and compassion through myself to all the sad soldiers, especially those prison guards lost in the jaws and belly of the voracious god of war, the Mujahideen, all the leaders and the politicians who guide both, all people in Iraq and America who are karmically linked in the Cradle of Civilization in this vicious crossfire of beastly martial violence. I just let myself be with the Light that I was enabled by grace to choose once again, to consciously affirm forgiveness for self and all other, to extend compassion, to stop demanding to make the error even more real than it already is.
Then I went and for the first time in several days -- I’ve been having another temper tantrum with my Higher Power of late, which hurts him/her/it not a bit, but plays havoc with my Spirit -- did my regular morning spiritual reading and took a quiet time, watching the rain come pouring down, letting it wash me clean again. I am gratefully glad to be much healed again . . .
What bummed me was a little while ago I was in the kitchen fixing Soraia and I cups of coffee. A flying insect flew onto to my arm. Instinctively, without a moment’s hesitation, I smashed that bugger into pulverized squash. Then a roach crept out of the drain into the sink. Whop, that sucker was a deader too.
I stood there, frozen in a moment of viciously violent time, and broke down sobbing -- An object lesson from the Kosmos of just how inherently brutal I can be despite all my strivings to acquire compassion for all living things. A moment of humility to reflect on Tat Twam Asi, “I art thou.” To remember that when I point the finger of judgmental criticism, as I so readily do, at Bush or Cheney or Wolfowitz or Rumsfield, at the excessive violence of our mighty military machine, which could easily set off an unraptured Armageddon -- we have enough WMDs to wipe out every living entity on the planet, except maybe for the cockroaches, 50 or more times to the nth or so power, and if we do I seriously doubt that this is part of any God’s plan for us. When in hubris, I point that finger of self-righteous judgment, which is usually as well accompanied with an overflowing of justified resentment/rage, further putting me at risk for a self-imposed stroke, When I do that, as much of the previous diatribic ramblings have been, three fingers are pointing that destructive energy back at me . . .
I let the tears flow. I was graced just to step back and to watch, to witness the heaving sobs within me. I breathed deeply, focusing my attention on the tusumini roaring within me, and I soon returned to calmness. I was able to extend forgiveness and compassion through myself to all the sad soldiers, especially those prison guards lost in the jaws and belly of the voracious god of war, the Mujahideen, all the leaders and the politicians who guide both, all people in Iraq and America who are karmically linked in the Cradle of Civilization in this vicious crossfire of beastly martial violence. I just let myself be with the Light that I was enabled by grace to choose once again, to consciously affirm forgiveness for self and all other, to extend compassion, to stop demanding to make the error even more real than it already is.
Then I went and for the first time in several days -- I’ve been having another temper tantrum with my Higher Power of late, which hurts him/her/it not a bit, but plays havoc with my Spirit -- did my regular morning spiritual reading and took a quiet time, watching the rain come pouring down, letting it wash me clean again. I am gratefully glad to be much healed again . . .
Deal with the vagaries of reality . . .
Those of you on the other side of the world have just gotten an object lesson in how randomly relative reality is . . .
This and the previous post are dated Saturday, May Day, while I wax and wane about it being a Sunday Mor -- oo --ning . . .
Maybe when I try to upload some links to other blogs, if I can figure it out, I'll try and fiddle with the date/time stamp to become synchonous with where I am instead of where those of you on the other side of the world are, if I can figure that out . . .
This and the previous post are dated Saturday, May Day, while I wax and wane about it being a Sunday Mor -- oo --ning . . .
Maybe when I try to upload some links to other blogs, if I can figure it out, I'll try and fiddle with the date/time stamp to become synchonous with where I am instead of where those of you on the other side of the world are, if I can figure that out . . .
It's a Sunday Mor -- oo -- ning . . .
Ah yup, I've added a title for each post field, and I'm humming the Young Rascal's 60's tune, Groovin' as I type . . .
Top of a mighty fine morning at cha, wherever ye might be in whatever timezone. The morning waxes a bit gray again here in the Landa of Lanka, but the teeming showers of most of yesterday have stopped, and a couple of song birds are steadfastly, valiantly I observe, warbling their throats out so that their sweet song can be discerned over and above the screeching cacophony of squawking blabbered by the ubiquitous crows.
Funny thought I had the other day at just how ephemeral IT all is, how capricious and arbitrary most of my perception of reality -- whatever that is -- is. When living in Tucson, no doubt because I was in the fabled land of Carlos Castaneda, the profusion of large, black, blue/green/purple-shining birds were called Ravens and were perceived as sacred messengers from the other side. Here in Sri Lanka I view them as capricious crows, ugly, avaricious, bullies, a general bother and a large nuisance in the butt of living.
On my second cup of coffee and have a full morning ahead of me of browsing, writing -- yes, uploading some pics of the Polonnaruwa ruins -- and generally lazing around on a Sunday Morning. Later this afternoon I will go to Trinco for the night so I can travel on a "luxury" bus to Colombo early tomorrow morning in a quest for broadband -- rumor has it that O'Dells, an upscale department store, has recently installed a wireless node that I can access for a small fee to upgrade all my software and download some music off of itunes while sipping lattes. I also want to buy myself a self-birthday present of an external hard drive to back up the digital life I have on this marvelous machine. Yes, I know, backup, backup, backup is the mantra of everyone who has ever lost all their digital data, and I'm about statistically due for a cyber disaster. Much of my stuff is backed up on mac.com, but since I only have dial-up here in Mutur it is not feasible to backup online.
Whoa !~!~! A marvelous green and black songbird with a brilliant yellow mask just landed right outside my window and loudly screeched a couple of dulcet notes, startling me. I'm glad I decided not to try and get my camera to capture a digital image, because sure as shoot, it just quickly flew away to better places to be.
I'll leave you with this scary "Thought for a Sunday Morning": This article by George Monbiot relates that Samuel Huntington's thesis of the clash of civilizations between the Christian West and the Muslim East is basically flawed. It is not a clash between civilizations as much as it is a clash between two relatively small cohorts of religious fanatics, Fundamentalist Islamic Clerics on the one side and a cabal of extreme fundamentalists of the Christian Right, who believe they are on a Holy Crusade from Jesus Christ, Our Sovereign Lord on High, to prepare for his second coming, so that they may share in the Rapture. I mean didn't this shit become passe with Ollie North in the 80s? Obviously not, because such blatherings are minutely described on this site , a very attractive site with purty pictures and graphics and newsfeeds and everything digital, which is in competition for hits among truly inspired brethren and sistren from this site, which is geared to the more intellectual among the far right Fundies.
I mean, really. You just can't make this shit up any stranger, but according to another alleged source of Jesus, we have . . .
Top of a mighty fine morning at cha, wherever ye might be in whatever timezone. The morning waxes a bit gray again here in the Landa of Lanka, but the teeming showers of most of yesterday have stopped, and a couple of song birds are steadfastly, valiantly I observe, warbling their throats out so that their sweet song can be discerned over and above the screeching cacophony of squawking blabbered by the ubiquitous crows.
Funny thought I had the other day at just how ephemeral IT all is, how capricious and arbitrary most of my perception of reality -- whatever that is -- is. When living in Tucson, no doubt because I was in the fabled land of Carlos Castaneda, the profusion of large, black, blue/green/purple-shining birds were called Ravens and were perceived as sacred messengers from the other side. Here in Sri Lanka I view them as capricious crows, ugly, avaricious, bullies, a general bother and a large nuisance in the butt of living.
On my second cup of coffee and have a full morning ahead of me of browsing, writing -- yes, uploading some pics of the Polonnaruwa ruins -- and generally lazing around on a Sunday Morning. Later this afternoon I will go to Trinco for the night so I can travel on a "luxury" bus to Colombo early tomorrow morning in a quest for broadband -- rumor has it that O'Dells, an upscale department store, has recently installed a wireless node that I can access for a small fee to upgrade all my software and download some music off of itunes while sipping lattes. I also want to buy myself a self-birthday present of an external hard drive to back up the digital life I have on this marvelous machine. Yes, I know, backup, backup, backup is the mantra of everyone who has ever lost all their digital data, and I'm about statistically due for a cyber disaster. Much of my stuff is backed up on mac.com, but since I only have dial-up here in Mutur it is not feasible to backup online.
Whoa !~!~! A marvelous green and black songbird with a brilliant yellow mask just landed right outside my window and loudly screeched a couple of dulcet notes, startling me. I'm glad I decided not to try and get my camera to capture a digital image, because sure as shoot, it just quickly flew away to better places to be.
I'll leave you with this scary "Thought for a Sunday Morning": This article by George Monbiot relates that Samuel Huntington's thesis of the clash of civilizations between the Christian West and the Muslim East is basically flawed. It is not a clash between civilizations as much as it is a clash between two relatively small cohorts of religious fanatics, Fundamentalist Islamic Clerics on the one side and a cabal of extreme fundamentalists of the Christian Right, who believe they are on a Holy Crusade from Jesus Christ, Our Sovereign Lord on High, to prepare for his second coming, so that they may share in the Rapture. I mean didn't this shit become passe with Ollie North in the 80s? Obviously not, because such blatherings are minutely described on this site , a very attractive site with purty pictures and graphics and newsfeeds and everything digital, which is in competition for hits among truly inspired brethren and sistren from this site, which is geared to the more intellectual among the far right Fundies.
I mean, really. You just can't make this shit up any stranger, but according to another alleged source of Jesus, we have . . .
Saturday, May 01, 2004
So, okay, I’m a bit better, at least I can grit my teeth and grimace a smile of semi-contentment, as I watch the gentle rain outside and the serene solitude of one heron carefully stalking water bugs (or is it minnows?) in the river. The Church Bell tolls for whom I know not, and Chuck Mangione sweetly wails nostalgic from the mid-70s.
Thinking of Richard Dreyfuss for no particular reason, one of the scariest things I’ve had happen lately happened while riding to the jetty this morning to try and make a yet again thwarted phone-call to son Tommy. I had a Close Encounter with Jaws kind of a moment, when a sarong-wrapped Muslim man, with dutifully capped head and broadly smiling, pedaled past me with a huge shark straddled across the rear of his push-bike. Later, I saw him in the fish market with only about a quarter of the shark, the really huge tail still entact, unsold; I pointed to the sea and pantomimed him catching it there:
YES, Yes, yes, he excitedly indicated.
NO, No, no, I frightfully replied.
Yes, YES, Y E S, he insisted, broadly smiling at how Allah had blessed
him this fine, rainy morning.
For sure, I’ll never swim in the pristine seas around Mutur, and I shall be most watchful, if not goosebumpingly paranoid. when dipping my bod again in Dutch Bay or the softly-lapping waves of Nilaveli Beach.
I made a scrumptious home-cooked lunch for Soraia and me of cabbage, carrots and potatoes seasoned with butter, dill & celery sal. This was accompanied with Sri Lankan pork-sausage, pan stir-fried with onions, garlic in olive oil with a dash of Teriyaki sauce – ain’t no way I’m gonna find a real slab of corned beef here in the land of newspaper-wrapped lunch packets of very spicy rice and curry; besides I’m tired of the tinny taste of canned Australian corned beef.
The afternoon slid away with me reading lots of depressing stuff online about our continuing misadventures in Iraq as the quagmire deepens, So sad our perennial national obsession with WAR and the battling political persuasions it martially manifests, My reading included a most poignant NY Times editorial contrasting the War memorials in D.C., the new WW II Memorial next to the Vietnam Memorial, with the callous decision by the Sinclair Broadcast Group not to air the Ted Koppel Nightline testimonial to the fallen soldiers in Iraq during the cruelest month of April, 2004. The rationale for this is that it would further an anti-war agenda, which conflicts with their policy of only protraying “positive” stories about the illegal invasion and occupation of Iraq. I mean really !~!~!
Switching gears and foci suddenly to a less obtuse and more ironic reality. Lately, I’ve been exchanging emails with Jess, the Director of TOP Vietnam Veterans, the group I went back to Vietnam with in 2002. We are in the process of preparing for a return 202 trip with a group of folks who have done your basic 101 return trip back to the horrors of our war for healing and reconciliation. Some of the group wants to rough it back in the bush, do camp outs and such in the Mekong Delta and in a ville in North Vietnam. Since I currently live a fairly primitive life in the bush of Mutur, I opted for us to spend more time in resort-like hotels. Jess quipped back at me, “Whoever would have thunk 35 years ago that we would be planning for an R&R in Vietnam?”
I also spent some time uploading from my camera some lovely pictures of a lovely sunset that Rita, Midori (two of the injured NP teammates) and I experienced last Sunday evening in Polonnaruwa.
It don’t ever get much better than this . . .
Well, maybe this . . .
Or this . . .
Besides the sunset, I took some pictures of the lovely hotel grounds with a thick carpet of luscious grass including this touch of Arizona very far away . . .
See how thick and green the grass is? Grass this thick and green is somewhat of a rarity in Sri Lanka.
There was also a lovely pond with incredible purple loti blossoms, which I shall let the pictures speak volumes of unnecessary words . . .
Welp, that about shoots my blogging wad for this day. I know, I know, I said I would put up some pictures of my explorations of the Polunnaruwa ruins, and I shall, but like tomorrow isn’t that far away. Besides, the ruins have been there for the past couple of thousand years, so another day won’t be too much of a delay for instant gratification, when looked at from a Kosmic perspective. Of course, who knows what the deities will be laughing about these plans of little old man, Me . . .
And, yes, I also have all of tomorrow to experiment with putting up links to some of my favorite blogs . . .
Thinking of Richard Dreyfuss for no particular reason, one of the scariest things I’ve had happen lately happened while riding to the jetty this morning to try and make a yet again thwarted phone-call to son Tommy. I had a Close Encounter with Jaws kind of a moment, when a sarong-wrapped Muslim man, with dutifully capped head and broadly smiling, pedaled past me with a huge shark straddled across the rear of his push-bike. Later, I saw him in the fish market with only about a quarter of the shark, the really huge tail still entact, unsold; I pointed to the sea and pantomimed him catching it there:
YES, Yes, yes, he excitedly indicated.
NO, No, no, I frightfully replied.
Yes, YES, Y E S, he insisted, broadly smiling at how Allah had blessed
him this fine, rainy morning.
For sure, I’ll never swim in the pristine seas around Mutur, and I shall be most watchful, if not goosebumpingly paranoid. when dipping my bod again in Dutch Bay or the softly-lapping waves of Nilaveli Beach.
I made a scrumptious home-cooked lunch for Soraia and me of cabbage, carrots and potatoes seasoned with butter, dill & celery sal. This was accompanied with Sri Lankan pork-sausage, pan stir-fried with onions, garlic in olive oil with a dash of Teriyaki sauce – ain’t no way I’m gonna find a real slab of corned beef here in the land of newspaper-wrapped lunch packets of very spicy rice and curry; besides I’m tired of the tinny taste of canned Australian corned beef.
The afternoon slid away with me reading lots of depressing stuff online about our continuing misadventures in Iraq as the quagmire deepens, So sad our perennial national obsession with WAR and the battling political persuasions it martially manifests, My reading included a most poignant NY Times editorial contrasting the War memorials in D.C., the new WW II Memorial next to the Vietnam Memorial, with the callous decision by the Sinclair Broadcast Group not to air the Ted Koppel Nightline testimonial to the fallen soldiers in Iraq during the cruelest month of April, 2004. The rationale for this is that it would further an anti-war agenda, which conflicts with their policy of only protraying “positive” stories about the illegal invasion and occupation of Iraq. I mean really !~!~!
Switching gears and foci suddenly to a less obtuse and more ironic reality. Lately, I’ve been exchanging emails with Jess, the Director of TOP Vietnam Veterans, the group I went back to Vietnam with in 2002. We are in the process of preparing for a return 202 trip with a group of folks who have done your basic 101 return trip back to the horrors of our war for healing and reconciliation. Some of the group wants to rough it back in the bush, do camp outs and such in the Mekong Delta and in a ville in North Vietnam. Since I currently live a fairly primitive life in the bush of Mutur, I opted for us to spend more time in resort-like hotels. Jess quipped back at me, “Whoever would have thunk 35 years ago that we would be planning for an R&R in Vietnam?”
I also spent some time uploading from my camera some lovely pictures of a lovely sunset that Rita, Midori (two of the injured NP teammates) and I experienced last Sunday evening in Polonnaruwa.
It don’t ever get much better than this . . .
Well, maybe this . . .
Or this . . .
Besides the sunset, I took some pictures of the lovely hotel grounds with a thick carpet of luscious grass including this touch of Arizona very far away . . .
See how thick and green the grass is? Grass this thick and green is somewhat of a rarity in Sri Lanka.
There was also a lovely pond with incredible purple loti blossoms, which I shall let the pictures speak volumes of unnecessary words . . .
Welp, that about shoots my blogging wad for this day. I know, I know, I said I would put up some pictures of my explorations of the Polunnaruwa ruins, and I shall, but like tomorrow isn’t that far away. Besides, the ruins have been there for the past couple of thousand years, so another day won’t be too much of a delay for instant gratification, when looked at from a Kosmic perspective. Of course, who knows what the deities will be laughing about these plans of little old man, Me . . .
And, yes, I also have all of tomorrow to experiment with putting up links to some of my favorite blogs . . .
Happy May Day. Read in a Sri Lankan newspaper today that May Day started in the late 19th Century in the U.S. with some of the earliest labor unions. Now how historically weird is that? I mean during most of my childhood and adult life up until the late 80s, May Day was the 4th of July, Memorial Day, Thanksgiving, Veterans Day par excellence for the arch enemy of the US of A, the USSR. Jesus/Buddha/Allah/Shiva/Yewah do we make it up bizarre . . .
It’s a gray, cloud-covered day here in Sri Lanka, and we are in the middle of a tropical thunderstorm, the rain torrenting down between horizon-wide bright flashes of lightning, bringing with it a lovely, fresh smell and cooling breezes. It also thunder-boomed much of last night. Kind of unusual, being so different from the sun-blaring, near cloudless blue skies we have had for the past several weeks of the early hot season. Is it global warming having a paradoxical effect?
Here is another article , which highlights the incredible hubris of the U.S. government, so willing to point the finger of terrorism at others, while remaining oblivious to the consequences of its awful lethal actions in the War of Iraq. Sorry, but I just don’t discern the difference between a Black Tiger blowing him/herself up for their cause and unleashing indiscriminately the awesome firepower of an A-130 Puff the Magic Dragon, as we used to call them in Vietnam, gun platform, along with massive air and artillery bombardments such as U.S. forces have done several times recently in their continuous assaults, even through the ceasefire times, upon the holy cities of Falluja and Najaf. Or sniping at ambulances, or besieging cities preventing supplies, especially medical suppiles -- check out Jo's April 20, 2004 post -- to go through, or destroying a village/ city/country in order to safe it. We been doing this notoriously since my war in Vietnam. I don’t even want to mention the unilateral terror wrought upon Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the only time nuclear weapons of mass destruction have been used against innocent civilian populations, but I have, so deal with it.
And how ‘bout those damning pictures of how some overenthusiastic troops have dealt inhumanly and in violation of Geneva accords with prisoners under their charge? No doubt, Kerry would not think of these actions as atrocities either. Slap their wrist and give them some demerits; certainly not something to throw a medal away for.
All right, all right, stuff it Brinso, you’re beginning to give yourself unnecessary agata; nothing you can do about it anyway, no more or less than you have been able to do about any of your country’s misdeeds in the name of freedom for the most of your adult life. Face it, you’re just a hopelessly ungrateful pinkco, wacko treasonous traitor, who to boot is a perennially disgruntled lozar vet, who didn’t adjust like most of your middle-core brethren.
This is enough for this post. Gonna go upload some more pictures, eat some lunch so I won’t be protein deficient on top of being angrily depressed, and come back at ya with some pretty pictures and stories of my explorations of Polonnaruwa . . .
It’s a gray, cloud-covered day here in Sri Lanka, and we are in the middle of a tropical thunderstorm, the rain torrenting down between horizon-wide bright flashes of lightning, bringing with it a lovely, fresh smell and cooling breezes. It also thunder-boomed much of last night. Kind of unusual, being so different from the sun-blaring, near cloudless blue skies we have had for the past several weeks of the early hot season. Is it global warming having a paradoxical effect?
Here is another article , which highlights the incredible hubris of the U.S. government, so willing to point the finger of terrorism at others, while remaining oblivious to the consequences of its awful lethal actions in the War of Iraq. Sorry, but I just don’t discern the difference between a Black Tiger blowing him/herself up for their cause and unleashing indiscriminately the awesome firepower of an A-130 Puff the Magic Dragon, as we used to call them in Vietnam, gun platform, along with massive air and artillery bombardments such as U.S. forces have done several times recently in their continuous assaults, even through the ceasefire times, upon the holy cities of Falluja and Najaf. Or sniping at ambulances, or besieging cities preventing supplies, especially medical suppiles -- check out Jo's April 20, 2004 post -- to go through, or destroying a village/ city/country in order to safe it. We been doing this notoriously since my war in Vietnam. I don’t even want to mention the unilateral terror wrought upon Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the only time nuclear weapons of mass destruction have been used against innocent civilian populations, but I have, so deal with it.
And how ‘bout those damning pictures of how some overenthusiastic troops have dealt inhumanly and in violation of Geneva accords with prisoners under their charge? No doubt, Kerry would not think of these actions as atrocities either. Slap their wrist and give them some demerits; certainly not something to throw a medal away for.
All right, all right, stuff it Brinso, you’re beginning to give yourself unnecessary agata; nothing you can do about it anyway, no more or less than you have been able to do about any of your country’s misdeeds in the name of freedom for the most of your adult life. Face it, you’re just a hopelessly ungrateful pinkco, wacko treasonous traitor, who to boot is a perennially disgruntled lozar vet, who didn’t adjust like most of your middle-core brethren.
This is enough for this post. Gonna go upload some more pictures, eat some lunch so I won’t be protein deficient on top of being angrily depressed, and come back at ya with some pretty pictures and stories of my explorations of Polonnaruwa . . .
