“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm…” – Haruki Murakami

“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”

- Haruki Murakami, Kafka On The Shore

Wandering Into Timeless Obscurity (and Back Out)

It was a non-decision. I didn’t intentionally stop blogging. I just stopped blogging. I didn’t plan or expect to be gone for months. I just inadvertently wandered away and didn’t wander back. It was not a formal end to my blogging experiment; it was just a comfortable drop into timeless obscurity – no need to report, [...]

The Robert B. Parker/Spenser Memorial Read: A Life Well-Written

I was saddened by the news of Robert B. Parker’s death this last January even though I only started reading Parker’s mystery novels a couple of years ago. (I actually only started reading any mystery fiction about five years ago.) I so enjoy Parker’s style and wit – interesting, lively plots and the prominent use of dialog to advance story and develop characters. Just plain fun, escapist fiction -  though Parker was no literary slouch, having earned a Ph.D. in literature from Boston University.

Although, I hadn’t read all of Parker’s books, once I discovered Parker through his more recent works, I started picking up his earlier books when I saw them at used bookstores or garage sales, or to round out an Amazon order. Since I had most of them on hand already, news of Parker’s death prompted me to go back and start at the beginning of the Spenser series – The Godwulf Manuscript, (c) 1973. So for the past couple of months, I’ve just kept on through the entire Spenser series, in chronological order. It’s been extremely enjoyable – even rereading those I’d read quite recently.

Though each novel is written to stand alone as a crime novel, like most series in the mystery genre, a repertory of prime characters continues throughout. Apparently, the Spenser series is the most autobiographical of Parker’s works, and there’s an intimacy and authenticity in the evolution of these particular characters which shines through.

The main character, Spenser, is an intelligent, literate, ex-prizefighter, ex-cop turned private investigator – a tough, good-guy, wise-cracking thug with a big heart and who loves to cook. His long-time girlfriend, Susan Silverman, is a psychologist. The other most-constant character is Spenser’s best friend, Hawk – another ex-fighter toughie with noble intent – though Hawk’s activities and motivations often wander deeper into the realm of  illegal than his buddy Spenser’s.

As a psychology buff, I am naturally fond of Parker’s use of the dialog between Spenser and his psychologist- true-love, Susan, to effectively interject psychological elements into the resolution of each mystery. Parker often uses the same vehicle to comment on timely or newsworthy issues.

Within the gestalt of reading all of these books in rapid succession, I particularly enjoyed the dialog and evolution of the relationship between Spenser and Silverman as a reflective chronicle of the evolution of masculine and feminine stereotypes through some of the the most turbulent times of the feminist movement. As in life, there are no permanent or pat resolutions to the difficulties that surface, but, in my opinion, Parker did an excellent job showing us that the differences between men and women are as vital and important as our equalities. The Spenser-Silverman relationship flourishes because each honors the other’s individuality with compassion and a willingness to listen (plus a healthy thread of sexual intimacy).

It may have been coincidence, but repeatedly when purchasing Parker’s books, or reading them in public, I had women comment to me at how much their husbands or boyfriends liked Parker’s books. I hope this is not an accurate indicator of the ratio of Parker’s female fans. If so, it’s a shame, really. Though Robert B. Parker’s male protagonists are often violent and always extremely masculine, I perceive Parker’s message as, in many ways, strongly feminist.

Looking for Rachel Wallace, written in 1980, was a particularly pleasant surprise. I’m sure it was considered quite provocative when originally published.  The book juxtaposes Spenser’s competent, extreme masculinity against the radical feminist rhetoric of open lesbian, Rachel Wallace, who Spenser is tasked with protecting, and ultimately rescuing (using lethal violence) when she is kidnapped after firing Spenser. When thanking Spenser for the rescue, Wallace states: “You still embody much that I must continue to disparage. I still disapprove of you.”

Spenser’s reply: “Rachel, how could I respect anyone who didn’t disapprove of me?”  Rachel Wallace shows up briefly in later books as an valuable ally and friend to Spenser.

The character, Spenser, though masculine to the max, is likable, lovable and heroic – a life well-written.

Robert B. Parker’s other mysteries include the Jesse Stone series and the Sunny Randall series. I now plan to go back and read both of those series in chronological order as well. Character evolution through the progression of these series is part of the pleasure.

Robert B. Parker died of a heart-attack at the age 77, while writing at his desk – surely the most heroic kind of exit any writer would hope for.

If you are a Robert B. Parker fan (or even if you’re not), I highly recommend reading the touching, eloquent eulogy by his son, David, which was reprinted in its entirety in The Washington Post.

“…the illusion hurts us, takes our peace away…”

“By nature, we do not perceive ourselves or others accurately. We magnify the importance of ourselves and diminish that of others. In the beauty of a clear night, however, we look at the stars and feel ourselves small, unimportant, and at peace. On an objective scale, we sense our insignificance. Somehow the realization comforts us. The return of the illusion hurts us, takes our peace away, allows us to magnify slights, rejections, and humiliations as others challenge the illusion of our self-importance with theirs. It is in our human nature that this be so; it is our task to transcend it.”

- Barry Grosskopf, Hidden In Plain Sight

via psychobabble

“In war, good guys always become bad guys.” – Howard Zinn

May he rest in the peace he so highly valued.

Howard Zinn (August 24, 1922 – January 27, 2010)

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More wisdom from Howard Zinn:

“There is no flag large enough to cover the shame of killing innocent people.”

“Nations are not communities and never have been. The history of any country, presented as the history of a family, conceals the fierce conflicts of interest (sometimes exploding, often repressed) between conquerors and conquered, masters and slaves, capitalists and workers, dominators and dominated in race and sex. And in such a world of conflict, a world of victims and executioners, it is the job of thinking people, as Albert Camus suggested, not to be on the side of the executioners.”

“How can you have a war on terrorism when war itself is terrorism?”

“If history is to be creative, to anticipate a possible future without denying the past, it should, I believe, emphasize new possibilities by disclosing those hidden episodes of the past when, even if in brief flashes, people showed their ability to resist, to join together, occasionally to win. I am supposing, or perhaps only hoping, that our future may be found in the past’s fugitive movements of compassion rather than in its solid centuries of warfare.”

October Balance

Stevens Pass, October 2008

Stevens Pass, October 2008

October is my favorite month. I like autumn generally and (here) October is the month that finds the perfect balance between summer and winter. Nature is quieting down, weather is revving up. Humans are settling some, too (at least temporarily) – school routines are set and efficient, holiday frenzies have not quite begun.

I always prefer quiet to frenzy. It’s part of my attraction to solitude.

October is also my birth month. Birthdays provide a day of license to celebrate ourselves  – incorporate some self-indulgence into the schedule without apology.  More importantly for me they are the annual opportunity to reflect on another trip around the sun – that pivotal personal reminder of the grand balance between the clearly temporary and seemingly eternal.

There is, apart from mere intellect, in the makeup of every superior human identity, (in its moral completeness, considered as ensemble, not for that moral alone, but for the whole being, including physique,) a wondrous something that realizes without argument, frequently without what is called education, (though I think it the goal and apex of all education deserving the name) – an intuition of the absolute balance, in time and space, of the whole of this multifarious, mad chaos of fraud, frivolity, hoggishness – this revel of fools, and incredible make-believe and general unsettledness, we call the world; a soul-sight of that divine clue and unseen thread which holds the whole congeries of things, all history and time, and all events, however trivial, however momentous, like a leashed dog in the hand of the hunter.  – Walt Whitman

Movement Warning

Well, it’s almost September. Although I’m not officially back from my blog break, this post seems necessary as a courtesy to my interim readers and subscribers.

As part of my ongoing blogging education, I’ve moved Blog from a Hermit Dot Com from WordPress.com (hosted by WordPress) to WordPress.org (independently hosted). It’s one of those “simple” computer maneuvers which has turned out a bit more complicated and time-consuming than I expected.

My apologies if you happen upon any of the broken links or other glitches before I get them repaired. I appreciate your tolerance. Your comments and suggestions are welcome.

My mantra for today:

I always remember, I have everything I need to enjoy my here and now – unless I am letting my consciousness be dominated by demands and expectations based on the dead past or the imagined future. - Ken KeyesHandbook to Higher Consciousness

Unintentional Hermit Chuck Noland

Actor Tom Hanks created a truly Memorable Hermit  in the 2000 motion picture Cast Away. Hanks’ character, Fed-Ex manager Chuck Noland, is the only survivor of a plane crash and is forced to survive alone on a desert island for four years. His transition from a portly, time-obsessed urbanite to a tan, bearded, slightly-emaciated athlete is [...]

Memorable Hermit Sin Killer: Pragmatic Self Sufficiency Meets Clueless Self Indulgence

sinkiller

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I always have great empathy for natural reclusives who find themselves stranded outside their comfort zone and Larry McMurty’s  Sin Killer (2002) is a perfect example.  Trapper/Indian-fighter Jim Snow (nicknamed Sin Killer) relinquishes his solitude in the first of Larry McMurtry’s tetrology, the Berrybender Narratives; but Jim would have (and probably should have) kept to himself had his youthful lust and fire-and-brimstrone [...]

Eremite Mike’s Blog: Reflections on Solitude, Exceptional Contemplative Prose

I found Eremite Mike’s Blog after Mike left a comment on this blog. Though Mike didn’t leave a link to his blog (perhaps because the blog is quite young), his comment revealed a clear empathy with the hermitic path, so I searched him out. I am continually impressed with the profound beauty and depth of his [...]