WW: Golf pollution

(I have no idea why golfers are so avid to bat their little balls into the world's watercourses, but I wish they would stop. Here you see just four of about a dozen I encountered on the tideland a few days ago.

I once snorkelled around a small island that was within view of several waterfront houses, and collected a bucketful of balls off the bottom in the process. The presence of a few more on the littoral itself suggested someone in those houses was playing "hit the island".

Another time my nephew and I were anchored in a pretty little bay, fishing, and a householder came out and started driving at us. His shots consistently fell short, and I suspect he knew we were out of range and meant no insult beyond a little joke, but... fishing, remember? I'd bet the bottom beneath us was already littered with those insufferable little plastic balls.

This snotty habit probably has little environmental impact beyond unsightliness, but it's still contemptuous and annoying.

Grow up, people.)

Rock Groups 2018

Well, it's somehow July again, which means it's time to invert the year's box of rock groups.

As I explain each July, my unearned facility for naming rock groups has kept me hoarding same since I was a teenager. As I have no outlet for this superpower, I commend them to the world here.

The rules remain constant:

1. Anybody who wants one for their group is welcome to it. I claim no copyright, trademark, patent, or juju.

2. Be aware that sometimes my muse two-times me, so if you see something you like, vet it carefully to be sure someone hasn't already had the same idea.

3. The genre suggestions that follow some entries are my fancy alone. If a name implies a different sound to you, have at it.

4. All who assume these identities are entitled to tell interviewers they were named by a Zen hermit monk. Because that is the awesomest of rock 'n' roll backstories.

Harken therefore ye unto:

Rock Groups 2018

(A service mark of Rusty Ring® Zen hermit products. No rights reserved.)

Cobb
Logjam (Northwest country rock)
Ice Train
Elvet Velvis (courtesy of my brother Fletcher)
ASA (Canadian rock)
Blue Highways
Briar Blade
The Wadcutters
Собака
Enumclaw (that's EE-numb-claw)
Davy Jones and the MTC
Shovel
The Tank Tops
Betty Bell and the Dial-Tones
Große Straße
Danny Dillinger and the Usual Suspects
360
Zoidberg
Gila Joe and the Rattlers (rockabilly)
Syzygy
The 9 Lords of Li Ping
Whitby Manor (emo)
Stream of Conscience
Ignore Amos
Boyle
CisOp
The Whangdoodles
Steambox
The Dogs of War
Big Bill and the Fruits of Labour
Pyewacket
The New Christy Wastrels
Boiled White
Gömböc
Blank Reg (as in the short form of Reginald)
Uppish With People
Endangered Eel
Drumnadrochit (Scottish folk rock)
Pygargue (French power rock)
African Genesis (soul)
Mastodon
Brother John and the Crimonious Clarks
The Cut-Outs (ask an old person for the reference)
404
Trump T. Trump and the Indelible Stains
Los Focos
Hive
Rubber Puppies
Led Sadr and The Brass Sponge
Ouch Mouse

(Photo of inuksuks at Peggy's Cove Lighthouse courtesy of Shawn M. Kent and Wikimedia Commons.)

WW: Giant agate

WW: Anorak

(Doyenne of the offshore pirates, since gone straight but still just as cutting-edge. Hear her here.)

The Flat Earth Koan

"Fifteen hundred years ago everybody knew the Earth was the centre of the universe. Five hundred years ago, everybody knew the Earth was flat, and fifteen minutes ago, you knew that humans were alone on this planet.

"Imagine what you'll know tomorrow."

Agent K
Men in Black

(Photo of Paisley Abbey gargoyle courtesy of Wikimedia Commons and a generous photographer.)

WW: Neighbourhood deer

Good Song: The Wind

This song holds a special place in my heart, because it held a special place in my practice when I first became a monk. As is often the case, my early experiences with meditation were thunderously transforming. I encountered personal peace for the first time in my life, and insights fell from the sky like rain in the spring. (Which was itself falling outside at the time.)

It's typical in this phase to re-experience familiar things as new. Old aversions become less objectionable; maybe downright acceptable. And old favourites shine with a renewed light, as if seen for the first time.

During that period I hungrily re-consumed many former pleasures, chasing that Christmas-like sense of discovery.

Prominent among these was the music that has enjoyed a prominent place in my life for as far back as I can remember. A few artists and albums struck particularly true, and today I consider them part of my foundational practice, though my relationship with some goes back to childhood.

Of the latter, none stand out more conspicuously than The Wind.

I've been a rabid Cat Stevens fan since he first hit back in the late 60s. My own songwriting style (I was a bit of a coffee-house artist in my youth) bore, and probably still bears, the unmistakable marks of Stevens' influence. I was even told I looked like him, though not by any (conscious) design.

So naturally, Stevens' work was among the first I revisited during that period of awakening.

It was all brilliant, but The Wind had something extra. The beauty of the words and music evoked the sensation of sitting, and I lifted the needle over and over to listen again.

There's no real mystery here; Stevens was interested in Buddhism during that era, and much of the compelling catalogue he compiled then is Zen-friendly.

But The Wind is unique. It's so simple, so short… and so bang-on. Stevens himself apparently understood this, because he made it the inaugural track of Teaser and the Firecat, setting the tone for the entire album.

In the intervening years Stevens has had a colourful spiritual journey of his own. In 1977 he converted to Islam, and as part of his religious commitment, changed his name to Yusuf Islam and renounced his musical career.

He may have had a particularly thorny relationship with what I once heard him describe as "my Buddhist stuff".

But Yusuf's spiritual practice has been straight and sincere, as evidenced by his willingness to change his mind. In the early Oughts he decided that music was a perfectly appropriate way to celebrate the 99 Names of God.

So I'm pleased to report that Yusuf (his current stage name) is writing, recording, and performing again, and that The Wind has actually become the centrepiece of those performances. Though I've never practiced Sufism, it certainly does echo the Sufi teaching I've studied, and I don't see why it can't be Muslim as well as – or even instead of – Buddhist.

Anyway, as this modest little treasure has been instrumental (no pun intended) in my own enlightenment practice, I hereby commend The Wind to others, in the brotherly wish that it bring the same peace and encouragement it brought me.

It really does capture a deep experience that evades words.

You be the judge.