Love’s Evolution

Ten ten.

The title theme to Untamed World, a tv show from the late Sixties, returns to my mind like it was yesterday night. This is what reading Jung can do to me, though it doesn’t feel bad to bring back the archaic, both in macrocosm and microcosm, like the tadpole to the frog. I suppose the psyche does contain all of evolution in itself, as the embryo of a chicken looks no different from a human embryo. My dog just lapped his water down to the bottom of the dish and poked about in his dry food: animal logic is not far removed from that of people… And yet progress of the individual is good, and the idea we call freedom of the will. I guess the question may be, Towards what does the individual person progress? You leave your mark on history and politics, hopefully to push the envelope of freedom and justice a little further. This is the spirit; then when everything is done, the materials of your body are recycled in the circle of life. It is the whim of fate whether your words are remembered, to say nothing of your deeds. So what is the point of it all? “Rejoice, rejoice / We have no choice / But to carry on.” And not to forget that love is coming. 

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Reverie

Three fifty.

In the middle of nowhere in the wee hours. It is always strange to be awake in the dark. Food pantry is this morning. If someone has a key to the sacristy, I will bring home my white bass guitar today. It’s been sitting there unplayed for three seasons. To remove it now could be symbolic of my faith, which never was very Christian. One word I’ve heard often referred to me is “intelligent.” I guess it’s true if people say it. My brother used to deny it, but lately he’s proven himself anything but intelligent. Consider the source. For some reason my mind is playing an old Stephen Stills song: “If… the eagle flies with the dove, and if you can’t be with the one you love, honey, love the one you’re with.” It used to be on the radio all the time in 1970, when I was three years old. I would hear it from the backseat of the blue Chrysler while my parents obliviously smoked cigarettes and drove us south on Interstate 5 toward Salem, Corvallis, or Eugene. The frequent rain would streak the windows, each drop gliding down by osmosis. What was I thinking about at age three? And who were these people in the front seat, driving us exactly nowhere? Factory smoke and billboard signs. Old warehouses and lumber mills, places where men sweated. My imagination saw a lot of masochism. Industry was a bizarre thing, and perhaps I felt like an anachronism. On one hand, the signs of industry all around; on the other, the hippies playing music on the radio. The latter protested against the former, yet were all part of the same picture in a little boy’s mind —- flying south on Interstate 5…

David Crosby

Four o’clock.

Things hit me…

It was Tuesday afternoon when I spun the CD Deja Vu by CSNY, a release of 1970. Now flooding the floor of my mind plays the title track, written by David Crosby. It grabs you from the very opening, with the 12-string acoustic guitar in G minor waltzing a fast 3/4. The vocals in harmony come in, expressing something about having been here before. Presently the key changes to E minor in a slow common time, giving way to an electric bass solo by Gregory Reeves while the voices chant, “We have all been here before…” The overall effect on me is haunting. Just the fact that I am sitting there hearing a recording from 1970 gives a chilling sense of “already seen.” Seen already… and to be seen again and again, to the throb of the Reeves Fender bass, taking us back and beyond — and forward.

An Old Yes Album

Quarter of midnight 🕛. Slept for four hours. Aesop is giving me the eye 👁. He probably wants to go outside, but I’m putting him off for a while. With the pressure off me a little, the terrible schizophrenic thoughts have died down. I had been thinking that doomsday was near, my own demise imminent. I don’t feel very creative with words right now. I was validated for my music today, and that’s what I’m inclined to keep doing. Playing music with someone else who is good feels a lot better than one hand tapping a smartphone. For a bass player, drummers are the best to jam with…

Accomplishing something today was worth a little pain of anxiety. Of course the world didn’t come to an end. Fear is unreasoning, but the heart says stick it out, and the original word for courage also means heart ❤️. It seems to me the heart is more rational than the mind. When the mind fails me, I ignore it and listen to my heartbeat. If the heart alone did the thinking, good things would get done. It would be our first step toward a better way of living. “As long as we see there’s only us who can change it, only us to rearrange it at the start of a new kind of day.” “Soon we’ll be as he proclaimed in a new way of living. Take the things you need in life but remember the giving.” Both of these songs are on Time and a Word, one of my favorite Yes albums. Listen to it to be eternally young!