The rain has run me out of the garden where I was trying to catch up on my weeding, and into the house, to this. Another written thing.
The I-Ching says, Peace — when the war between heaven and earth ends and opposites begin to love each other and no longer fight their natural attraction, but really how can you accurately say anything about this?
People, can you feel it? Love is everywhere! Is it a rule that you must love and be loved to have well-being? How about food, the air? You must breathe, and eat, and the quality of your actions will probably have something to do with the quality of your well-being.
Some need drugs to feel well. As the drugs produce peace they may also produce guilt and paranoia (justified because we know that our brother will arrest us and put us in the slam if we use them). Another problem with using drugs is that they may interfere with learning and practicing other ways of getting peace. “Everybody wants to go to heaven and nobody wants to die.” I, of course, smoke only one cigarette a day, and although I’ve tried dried lettuce and things I generally smoke only pouchoukie tuka.
The radio just now said that Democrats smoke more marijuana than Republicans, and that Independents smoke the most of all. It’s becoming quite a big business, it says, and hospitals are giving it to cancer patients because it helps them with the nausea they get because of the other medicine they give them. And they let good old Tim Leary out of jail the other day, I saw it in the paper.
Which brings me to the real subject of this article, that piece by C.B. Clark in last month’s SUN on transcendental automobile driving. It was just what I needed. It told me the meaning of those sounds I hear late at night when I’m lying in bed. A little booze, a little grass, chrome, steel, rubber and sweat, Jesus on the dashboard, going through the gears and listening.
The automobile is so ingrained in our culture that we will not be the same people without it. And yet the possibility of running out of oil in the very near future is real. And it doesn’t matter what you believe in, it is going to continue to be real. The dream of hydrogen car engines, and methane, may come in time and save us from changes large and hairy, or it may come down in twenty years where Americans are wishing they had been born in Mexico.
