Harmonic Oscillation

This is the technical, and I think much more lovely, term for washboarded roads.  Apparently this is inevitable on an unpaved dirt road, these waves of dirt and shape that take form while people drive over them.   Apparently the speed at which you drive isn’t critical; driving slowly doesn’t inhibit this formation.  I can’t imagine that driving like a bat out of hell helps either, but WHAT DO I KNOW.  We have harmonic oscillation on an operatic scale here, anyway.

Every time we have to go anywhere, including our neighbors houses, we must pass over these sound and movement shaped things and it is more and more like driving over mountain ridges.  So I wasn’t surprised to learn that I need an alignment job on the trusty Subaru.  Not happy, either, but there it is.  I’m happy it isn’t a full suspension job but that is no doubt looming on the horizon somewhere- perhaps in a low spot on the harmonically oscillating plane of life, just waiting to leap up.

Anyway, one nice part of the oscillatory journey is passing the place where The Chub Group lives.   The Chub Group is four pygmy billy goats; one is somewhat polka dotted, the others are white and grey and mottled black.  They have splendid horns and eyes, too, even though they are very, very, very short.  It’s disorienting to look from the ground up, these tiny legs leading to stout bodies and then!  The heads!  HORNS! Solemn noses!  During the summer we didn’t see them often because they were lounging back in the shade out of sight.  In the winters though they are always out in their yard eating.  Always.  There’s a big pile of rusted metal in the middle of their space and sometimes they eat that.  Other times they’ll drape themselves over it after midday to soak up the heat.  It is so easy to picture them sauntering out of some Club, smoking cigars, heading out to run/ruin things with those yellow captain of industry eyes they have.  They’ll sit in a circle, or stand in one, and you just know they’re discussing Something Important.  They always make me laugh.

Continuing on down the road, the two lustrous calves seem to mostly relax under the big tree in their area.  They are usually lying down, with the black one resting its chin on the red one, just gazing off.  They always make me wonder what they’re thinking.  Across the road from them is the colt- not quite a yearling yet- who is still working out how the four legs work, still bugging its mom for milk, following the other horses in an important, look at me! See what I’m doing! I CAN PRANCE sort of way.  The yoga doing goats next to them are far back in a field now and I can only assume that the babies who were practicing their jumping in May have now become Full Fledged Goats, well on their way to running someone’s life.

Anyway, even way out here Real Life is inescapable, and often hugely dislocating in the midst of nature which continues to do its thing regardless of the stupid stuff humans do.   There’s the oddity of balancing the sure knowledge of the enormity of everything, the transitory nature of US, with the intensity of what happens in life, what is happening, and trying to remain calm in the face of what looks like is coming down the road toward one.   Despite my vow to abjure “news” for a while, my dear friend posted something on Facebook, which I already knew but still.  The U.S. has five percent of the world’s population.  It has TWENTY FIVE percent of the world’s prison population.  Broken down that means roughly one in five people in this country is in the slammer.  So? I think this means it’s either incredibly dangerous here in the U.S.of A., or our power apparatus is crazy.  If the latter, then both statements are true.  Maybe that’s why I went to college- to be able to figure things like that out.  What I come to, can’t always stick to implementing, is that the only response to this is to acknowledge it and then not carry on with the mindset that allows such things to happen.  It always boils down to money, of course.  Prisons are things that are traded on the stock exchange, after all.  Their “owners” make money now that so many are “privatized.”  So that’s pretty sick if you ask me.  Also, prisons are fantastic sources of essentially free labor- you’re housing and I suppose you could say feeding the prisoners, but you aren’t paying them for what you have them do.  Plus you have a steady supply of people who are not acclimated to life on the outside, if they ever get there, so no worries about supply of bodies.  Win win for Mr. Big once again.  Mostly I feel almost sick unto death about all this stuff- but then I see the Chub Group and hope springs eternal.  Which it must if we are to move into the light from this ever darkening dark.

2 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by Wanda Brenni on November 4, 2011 at 4:54 pm

    I do makes these a part of my day–taking me to other but also sharing the same horrors mixed with so many delights. Spring has taken over and am almost rolled under except for that incredible beauty that transends; I do, however, come into the house almost dead and therefore not quite able to comment most nights, love


  2. Makes me think of “It is common sense to take a method and try it. If it fails, admit it frankly and try another. But above all, try something.” — Franklin D. Roosevelt


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