A moment of silence

"Without music, life itself would be a mistake" - Frederich Nietzsche

copyright(c)2014

William Schaeffer

I find myself

Trapped
in a prison
of my own making.

Nevertheless,
I cannot
get out.

copyright(c) 2014

William Schaeffer

Take a Haiku

It is 6 A.M.
Let's take a hike at the park.
Invigorating.

copyright (c) 2014 

William Schaeffer

Like an insect molting

I bought a new smart phone.

I still keep my old phone

on the desk.

I am reluctant to put it away.

Like an insect --

staying near his old skin,

when it is no longer of any use to him.

~

copyright (c) 2014

William Schaeffer

My recurring dream as a child

My recurring dream as a child

There is one dream that I had at least three times, and possibly more, between the ages of 6 and 10 (or so).   The dream is always the same, identical.   I wake up startled with the memory and impact of the dream, but it is foreign and somewhat meaningless.   Today, while looking at an image of Shiva, the Hindu god, I was reminded of a significant element of the dream that I never could understand.

The dream is always the same and starts out where I am on the floor against the wall of a dark room.  I am a prisoner, or held captive.   The room is about 10’ x 15’ (or larger) and the back wall is a significant way from the door.   It is windowless and dark and I am alone.  The floor is wood and the walls are metal; riveted metal.   There is some straw scattered on the floor.   My back is against the far wall, facing the only door, which is a metal sliding door hanging on a track or rail.   It is daylight outside and light spills through the crack in the door and faintly illuminates the room.  

I am waiting for a long time and suddenly the door opens and a figure stands looming in the doorway.

It seems that I am on a ship and the man is the captain of the ship.  It is daylight and I can see we are on a river and there is a line of trees on the bank of the river, along the edge of the water.   The captain of the ship is dressed like a pirate sea captain with a long coat.   On his shoulder is perched a giant cobra snake with the hood flanged out like it is about to strike.  Instead of a parrot perched on his shoulder, this captain has a cobra perched on his shoulder in exactly the same configuration as the cobra in the classical illustrations of Shiva that I saw earlier today.

I cannot say if the cobra was real, or possibly a brass statue, but it was perched on his shoulder just like a parrot would be perched on a pirate’s shoulder.   The captain stood motionless and menacing in the doorway silently looking at me.   I see him with the cobra on his shoulder silhouetted against the bright sky.  Then, I wake up.

This dream was somehow different from the other dreams I had as a child and I have forgotten most of those.

As a young man, thinking about this early dream, I noted a curious similarity to “Heart of Darkness” by Joseph Conrad.  Possibly the dream was a memory of a previous life? If so, it seems remarkably like the memory of a newly captured slave destined for slave markets on the coast; being transported down a tropical river, in a cargo hold where livestock was also kept.  This room seemed to be on the level of the main deck and not below decks.  The door opened onto the side of the boat (Starboard side).  The pirate would be the trader and captain of the ship.  The ship seemed to be a steam or diesel ship and not a sailing ship.

However today, I am baffled by the Shiva image.   I have seen this image of Shiva numerous times since college and today for the first time I notice the cobra sitting on his shoulder in exactly the same configuration that the pirate in my dream carried a cobra on his shoulder all those years ago.  The realization really struck me. I have no idea if this, or the dream itself means anything, but it is a curious memory.

Addendum: I became aware of this Shiva image because for the past two weeks, the exact same Shiva video has been showing up in my suggested playlist on youtube.   Every time a video ends, no matter what the video is about, this same Shiva meditation video is presented as one of the next options.  The music is nice, and I enjoy listening to it, but it was kind of spooky how the exact same video always appeared as an option.   And now, watching the video and looking at the simple animation, I am reminded of this dream I had as a child all those years ago when I see the cobra perched on the shoulder of Shiva just like the cobra perched on the shoulder of the pirate.

~

copyright(c)2014

William Schaeffer

How to Plant Flowers

How to Plant Flowers

by Bill Schaeffer

1) In the late Winter, or early Springtime, choose the spot where you would like to have flowers.   There must be some minimal dirt and sunlight.   Generally, the more sunlight the better.   Wild flowers are hardy and they can take the sunlight if they have enough water.   You might have a small flower pot, a patch of dirt between sidewalks, or some bare dirt in the corner of the yard.   Anywhere is fine, as long as there is some direct sun.

2) Buy some seed packs of mixed wild flowers.   Buy about four times the recommended amount of seeds for the area.   Buy a few different packs by different manufacturers.   Buy seeds of local wild flowers.  

3) You can plant the seeds anytime you like, but for best results:  Choose a day when it is not supposed to rain for a couple days.   Clear the area of debris and plants.   Add some black dirt topsoil if you like.    Remove the stones if you like.    Wait till late afternoon and broadcast the seeds (scatter the seeds evenly over the dirt, by gently flipping them out of the palm of your hand).   Interesting note: the radio term “broadcast” was coined in WWI by a sailor who grew up on a farm.   As a boy, his chores included feeding chickens by broadcasting seed.   As a radio operator he used the term and it stuck.

4) Gently water the seeds.     Just water enough to barely wet the soil.    Touch the soil to judge the moisture.   It should feel moist and not muddy.   Do not water too much.    Do not soak the dirt.     Never over water.    It is always better to water too little.

5) Check the flowers every day, or at least five days a week.   Touch the soil to see how moist it is.   If it is dry and cracked, the flowers need water.    If it is dry and dusty, the flowers need water.   If the soil is slightly moist and clinging, the flowers are just fine - do not water.   If the dirt is muddy, or soupy, there is too much water.   If you need to water the flowers, just sprinkle the dirt with water.  Just barely soak the soil and then stop.   

6) You might want to weed isolated blades of grass and wide broad leaf plants (pull the plants out by the roots and destroy them), but generally you should leave the flowers alone and just water them when the dirt is very dry.   Check the dirt every day.

7) Wait,  relax, enjoy.    Watch the life cycles of different plants.    Watch the bees and butterflies that are attracted to the flowers.    Look at the other insects enjoying the plants.

8) Try to not pick the flowers or arrange them.   Leave the plants to flower naturally and only cut the dry dead flowers from the living plants to give energy to the remaining flowers.   Interesting note:  According to Charles Alexander Eastman, in the book “Soul of an Indian,” the original Native Americans never picked flowers for decoration.    For celebrations, they used boughs, or wreaths, of green leaves, but never flowers.   They left the flowers to bloom naturally on the plants.

~

Copyright (c)2008, 2014 

William Schaeffer

What world is it?

I used to think we were god’s chosen people living in the greatest country on earth.   And I thought I was more than happy to do my fair share, to work hard and help build a just society for all men and women to enjoy and pass on to their children in perpetuity.

But now I see that the whole world is just a bunch of shitty little assholes trying to kill their neighbors and take their money and fuck their teenage girls and then blame it on someone else while living an outwardly sanctimonious and respectable lifestyle.

And, I am confused.   Where do I fit into this new world?

copyright (c) 2009, 2014 Wm Schaeffer

What is Philosophy?

To my understanding, Philosophy is the speculative musing about intellectual concepts for no other reason than to examine truth and consider the ramifications of the concepts examined.  Philosophy is not pragmatic, political, or religious.   Philosophy has no ax to grind or agenda to fulfill other than reflection on the process of thought and truth itself.

~

copyright(c) 2014

William Schaeffer

What a beautiful world it would be...

p. 106

"His [William Carlos Williams] poem 'Classic Scene', written in 1937, addresses the pervasive industrial ambience of the poet's own milieu in the north-east.



A power-house
in the shape of a red brick chair
90 feet high

on the seat of which
sit the figures
of two metal
stacks - aluminum

commanding an area
of squalid shacks
side by side -
from one of which

buff smoke streams while under
a grey sky
the other remains

passive today -


..."

p. 107

"...But a vaguely unsettling conflict exists in 'Classic Scene' between the unsightly shacks and the assertive power plant, between the active and the passive aluminium stacks.  As with Sheeler's industrial scenes, we struggle to assess this seemingly straightforward description.  In the detached, objective language, an understated voice proclaims a dissonant message about a world totally dominated by industry.  The realm it commands is eerie, squalid, and deathly still.

Indeed, William's 1954 essay on Sheeler's work interjects a surprisingly pessimistic note with regard to the industrial subject.  He describes the power of Classic Landscape as resulting from 'a realization on the part of the artist of man's pitiful weakness and at the same time his fate in the world'.
Finally, we glimpse what the 'contemporary dilemma' meant to Williams.  The creative individual's fate -- especially in America -- is to live in a mechanical age, a fact that cannot be denied.  The artist must address this in his art, but in doing so, he finds that the machine remains alien and aloof; humanity is pitifully weak in its domain.  Williams apparently maintained faith in the artist's ability to create vital expressions in the face of such challenges, however, because he concluded the essay with a more positive, if incongruous , thought: 'These are the themes which under cover of his art Sheeler has celebrated.'

Sheeler, when asked to explain the diminished human presence in his industrial scenes, advanced yet another, possibly ironic, explanation: 'Well, it's my illustration of what a beautiful world it would be if there were no people in it.'"


from "Charles Sheeler and the Cult of the Machine" by Karen Lucic, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Mass 1991