wine

The 4th century Chinese poet, T'ao Ch'ien writes a lot about wine as an entry to The Way. I'm sitting here after a few glasses of Sicilian red, my dog snoring on the couch beside me, having watched Bill Moyers' Friday night show with the economist Galbraith discussing the current economic collapse. Over the past month, I've learned more about economics than I have learned in the past 62 years (for better or worse). More importantly, the last segment of the show was about a film, Playing for Change: Music for Peace (one problem with wine is that it can sometimes fog the short term memory. i think that is the title.)  The excerpts Moyers showed from the film brought me to tears.  It was one of those best of times, worst of times moments, similar to watching clips of Palin rallies with Hank Williams Jr. using music to appeal to the lowest political denominator and then thinking about his father's music as it breaks the human heart and simultaneously lifts its spirit. It's sad that these times of political activity always seem to move away from the spirit. The Republicans never were there, and the Democrats pushed Obama farther and farther away from those transcendent moments that marked the beginning of the campaign. When he wins, I hope those moments return because the human spirit craves them. I hope he fills the White House with art, music, poetry, and dance. I hope, as he spoke early in his campaign, he pushes a platform that restores the arts to the schools and does not relegate them to lesser priorities to be dealt with after the economic situation is "resolved".   In looking at the excerpts from the film on the Moyers program, I was reminded how powerfully the arts illustrate, explain, and reconcile,  how what is most important in life manifests itself through them, how the spirit rises through their presence. I'll spill my last sip on the Earth, an offering to the moon as it wanes, to the winds as they blow a wild sound, to the firs swaying in gentle ecstasy.  

Reading T'ao Chien on the ferry in the San Juan Islands

Orcas to San Juan &

back wind

steady sun

bleached water stretching

to Canada & even

to Russia where Putin's bald

head rises flies

into Alaskan sky this sea

wipes out nation re-

minds the spirit new

thought no

thought everything changing

nothing

but light