BONE
The harvest moon passes and winter comes a little later than usual. Festivities must change with the climate, so incandescent lights are replaced by LED displays.
Thoughts burrow down with the season. Reflect that nobody created the universe, so vast that calling it such is laughable. While answering an email, or shooting the enemy, such thoughts not feasible. But in calm moments they are just a step away from realizing we are all part of one universe.
Though not everyone thinks this way, some are more curious ---
Before this body takes another form, what is it now? This ability to wonder, is it unique? In this vastness, so far, there is no evidence beyond our planet of beings like us. Does that matter?
Curiosity, a distant traveler recalling home, morphs into longing,.
From Russia's state-run Channel One, briefly flashed a diagram of the Status-6, a nuclear torpedo. BBC relayed the toxic leak, which was parried by the US Department of Defense: “. . . we defer to the Russian Navy as to its authenticity.” Details were later reported by the Russian government newspaper Rossiikaya Gazeta, which “speculated about a super-radioactive device. So the leak may not have been accidental,” the BBC reported.
Reportedly, it is a robotic mini-submarine traveling at 115mph that would “avoid all acoustic tracking devices and other traps.”said the BBC, quoting Russian military experts: “A warhead of up to 100 megatons could produce a tsunami up to 500m (1,650 ft) high, wiping out all living things, 1,500 km (930 miles) deep inside US territory.” And “. . . there would not even be any survivors in bunkers.” added Gazeta, “. . . the warhead would fit the description of a cobalt bomb . . . producing highly radioactive cobalt 60 with a half-life longer than five years.”
A cobalt bomb, the BBC reminds us, hasn't ever been tested because of the devastating radiation it would unleash.
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Amber leaves shading liquid red, the sun slanting low, and Lady Hummingbird at the feeder. These light my mind, finding crevices of wonder. Tabitha snuggles by my writing arm, her eyes squinched in slumber. It might be Christmas.
But the breeze is more than stiff. Leaves fly in panicked flocks. Not yet winter, nor yet the end of summer, it is not Christmas. This moment, were it not ever-present, might be depressing. Until the crevices are cleared of dried wonders stored side by side.
Ever wonder how attics store fascination? How can it be, lacking a good ghost-witch story, that just the mere mention . . .
Of Lifeocide I sing. Gather taunts and twits. I will sing anyway. Our local school has produced a play, “The End of the World (with prom to follow),” tickets $10 in advance. Let us raise our voices in glorious denial. I sing.
I will have a cup of coffee. Tabitha will complain, versus a small comfort that is thoroughly enjoyable. The Yin Yang of our globalized misery is, as always, unevenly scattered. I have reached into a burning house to rescue this, and now the debris is visible. Not the only house on fire.
Anyone who wonders how we got to killing the planet and each other, to hydrogen bombs, nuclear torpedoes, deforestation, fishing with cyanide, torturers in training, people willing to die and willing death for celebrated causes might take a moment for absurdity. The End of the World is laughter. Isn't that the best medicine? Or who thinks that's not so might conclude: no cure!
The disease might well be terminal. Certainly it's far advanced. My house smoulders and just incidentally, while we're picking through the debris, what about all those other houses still standing? I'm no miracle worker, cup of coffee in hand, watching a panic of leaves in the climate storm. It wasn't so long ago that the shutters seemed secure. Dear readers, recall my descriptions of drug puffed mandalas in the sky. And other stumbling blocks that morphed into stepping stones. Hope for that one is hope for all.
It may be too late to stop Lifeocide. Or maybe not. There are less wasteful ways to live. And must we tolerate torturers, people who design weapons? Life is not an advertisement.
In any case, the cure begins right here, where we are now, how we are. Even with no prospect for success enjoy right now, and yeah, the moment might be depressing. Rest assured. It will pass.
DEEP
