EARTH GOODBYE ~

Peter Stephen Berg


October 1, 1937 -- July 28, 2011

from the Good Folk at Planet Drum ~

On the morning of Thursday, July 28th, Planet Drum Foundation's founder, Peter Berg, breathed his last. His life-partner, Judy, and daughter, Ocean, were with him. In many ways his death was too soon and unexpected. Now he has joined the electric pulse of the planet; he exists in the earth and sky, water and wind, and in our hearts and memories. Look for him in the glittering sparkles of sunlight, in the stars at night, and in all the beauty of Pachamama which he so loved.



Peter was a clear-seeing, passionate, visionary activist, analyzing all aspects of human species interactions and following through his ideas with action. Prior to his bioregional work, he participated in early civil rights action and theater; wrote, directed, produced, and acted in plays for the SF Mime Troupe; and formulated theory and actions with the Diggers in San Francisco, writing ecstatic prose/poetry manifestos.

Peter founded Planet Drum Foundation in 1973, and continued as its director for 38 years. The originator of the term "bioregion" and concept of "reinhabitation," Peter was a noted ecologist, author and speaker. According to Gary Snyder, Peter's work and Planet Drum's newsletter Raise the Stakes were "of immeasurable importance in defining and disseminating the ideas and possibilities of bioregionalism." Works include extraordinarily innovative revegetation and green city projects both locally and abroad, which directly manifest his vision of ecological and cultural sustainability. "Throughout his long career he stayed with living right in San Francisco and in word and deed was a proponent of a non-dualistic urban/hinterland view of bioregionalism. Peter was a unique and cranky figure," -- Gary Snyder.



Peter's books include: Envisioning Sustainability, Discovering Your Life-Place: A First Bioregional Workbook, A Green City Program for the San Francisco Bay Area and Beyond, Figures of Regulation: Guides for Re-Balancing Society with the Biosphere, and Reinhabiting a Separate Country: A Bioregional Anthology of Northern California. Articles and interviews with him have been published internationally, and he has done presentations and workshops at events, conferences, schools/universities, etc. worldwide.



No one will be able to replace his presence, but Planet Drum Foundation will continue. In his last months, Peter laid the groundwork to ensure that the Foundation would carry the bioregional legacy into the future. As part of this effort, Peter and his brother established the Eliot and Peter Berg Endowment Fund.



"We didn't play it for the Big Time. We didn't play it for the Small Time. We played it for the Real Time"-- Peter Berg 7/24/11

mail@planetdrum.org

Planet Drum Foundation 415-285-6563

P.O. Box 31251
San Francisco, CA 94131

www.planetdrum.org





peter, so long

SO LONG ~

(its been good to know you)

Albert Saijo

Albert Fairchild Saijo, 85, of Volcano, died June 2, 2011 at his residence. Born Feb. 4, 1926, in Los Angeles, he was a member of the 100th Battalion, 442 Regimental Combat Team, serving in Italy; a designer, carpenter and woodworker; a poet whose book, "Outspeaks -- a Rhapsody," won the National Small Press Award for Poetry in 1998; and his work is mentioned in the "Norton Anthology of Modern Contemporary American Poetry" and numerous other anthologies.

Private services will be held.

He is survived by wife, Laura Saijo, of Hilo; sister, Hisayo Saijo, of Hilo; four stepchildren; one niece; one nephew.

Arrangements by Homelani Memorial Park and Crematory.

from West Hawaii Today

great books

GOOD MORNING ~

The War on You

Submitted by Michael Collins on Sat, 07/30/2011 - 22:52

• Boehner
• Debt Ceiling Crisis
• Debt Ceiling Talks
• Medicare
• President Obama
• social security
• Tea Party

Let the word go forth from Washington! The corporate rulers occupying our nation's capital have declared war on just about every citizen.

Have no doubt: those in the upper ranges of the top 1% of wealth in this country (aka The Money Party) want to kick you to the curb.

They want to reduce your social security and make you go broke paying for medical care.

They want to lower your wages and trash your retirement.

They ignore the clear facts that we've had negative job growth since 2000 and the situation is just getting worse.

They want to ship jobs, factories, and entire businesses overseas and give companies that do that a big fat tax credit for doing so.

They've been given so much for nothing for so long. Now, they're ready to take it all. It's their time!

The most recent assault is the ridiculous debate about raising the debt ceiling. There should be no debate. Failing to raise the ceiling right now means deliberate default on debts, refusing to pay bills the government can pay. It's called fraud.

The pressing need to fix the budget is a separate issue. Reduced spending and increased revenues should come through broad public involvement and open debate. It mandates that the rulers behave like adults.

But this crisis isn't about putting together a real budget. It's about creating a budget that punishes you, your family, and friends. It's about taking your attention away from your vital interests to maximize income and control by The Money Party.

Were the leaders on either side of the debate serious, the Bush era tax cuts would be rescinded. These cuts on the top 1% were temporary. Guess what? Congress lied. When the temporary tax breaks ran out a few months ago, they were revived and renewed just when we had the greatest need for revenues.

The Money Party won't give up its wars either. Iraq and Afghanistan have added $4 trillion to the national debt of $14 trillion. Why not stop the wars? How hard is that to figure that out?

Getting rid of Bush tax cuts for the super-rich, ending the wars, and moving out of the recession/depression would be huge steps toward balancing the budget. But that won't happen with this Congress and this president. Why? That would cost the financial elite money for taxes and lost income for all those weapons they sell to support the wars.

The Attack on You Began in Earnest Just Years Ago

Congress repealed Depression era banking regulation that kept your banks from risky investments in 1999.

Congress enacted legislation in 2000 that allowed extremely risky investments in real estate and other derivatives, illegal for nearly a century.

In 2001, the big banks and Wall Street celebrated its newly purchased freedoms with a decade-long binge of fraud and risky investments. Like a greedy con artist, they took everything they could from people here and around the world until there was no more to take. We have now hit the wall thanks to them.

The outrageous expenses of wars based on lies caught up with us and shoved the deficit to new heights. The tax cuts for the top 1% took away revenues needed to balance the budget.

The money they steal from the Social Security surplus is no longer enough. They want to keep the tax in place for us and take an even bigger rake-off.

This crisis is manufactured by the ongoing greed of The Money Party. It is funded by the US Treasury. You pay for it, all of it.

End

This article may be reproduced with attribution of authorship and a link to the article.

The Money Party RSS

WOODY ~

One of our cats was named after Woodrow Wilson Guthrie who was named after someone else.

A terrific American boy who grew up in Okemah, Oklahoma amidst great tragedy and flight — he took to the road early, a high school dropout and avid reader, penning one of the great memoirs of American literature Bound for Glory.

He also was a columnist for The Daily Worker, hobo, radio performer, husband of three and father of eight.

He kept to a drawing pad all his life and was one of the towering songwriters of the modern era.

There was barely a subject he didn't touch or a folksinger he hasn't influenced.

(July 14, 1912~October 3, 1967)

(a fine fellow and book)

Steven Brower & Nora Guthrie (Rizzoli 2005)

www.rizzoliusa.com

WITH ME ~

Jimmy Dale Gilmore

Jimmy Dale Gilmore is a Taurus born in the Panhandle of Texas in 1945 (Amarillo) and raised in Lubbock. Same neighborhood as Roy Orbison and Buddy Holly (with Alabaman Hank Williams thrown in for good measure) and one could say Gilmore is their grandchild. Give a listen to his haunting tenor voice. When not appearing solo, or with his son Colin, or with The Flatlanders (Joe Ely and Butch Hancock) which has been a world all its own with these three musicians since 1972, Gilmore lives in Austin. He appeared in the bowling alley scene of the Coen brothers film The Big Lebowski as the sweet pacifist soul "Smoky."

nodepression.com

EARTH ~

(spinner)

happy b'day
29 july 2011
sweetheart

film © bob arnold

1930 ~ 1950

Ludwig Wittgenstein

It is a great temptation to try to make the spirit explicit.



A confession has to be a part of your new life.



If you use a trick in logic, whom can you be tricking other than yourself?



In my artistic activities I really have nothing but good manners.



The way to solve the problem you see in life is to live in a way that will make
what is problematic disappear.
The fact that life is problematic shows that the shape of your life does not fit
into life's mould. So you must change the way you live and, once your life
does fit into the mould, what is problematic will disappear.
But don't we have the feeling that someone who sees no problem in life is
blind to something important, even to the most important thing of all? Don't I
feel like saying that a man like that is just living aimlessly — blindly, like a
mole, and that if only he could see, he would see the problem?
Or shouldn't I say rather: a man who lives rightly won't experience the
problem as sorrow, so for him it will not be a problem, but a joy rather; in
other words for him it will be a bright halo round his life, not a dubious
background.



If I am thinking about a topic just for myself and not with a view to writing a
book, I jump about all round it; that is the only way of thinking that comes
naturally to me. Forcing my thoughts into an ordered sequence is a torment
for me. Is it even worth attempting now?
I squander an unspeakable amount of effort making an arrangement of my
thoughts which may have no value at all.



The origin and the primitive form of language game is a reaction; only
from this can more complicated forms develop.
Language — I want to say — is refinement, 'in the beginning was the deed'.


Nobody can truthfully say of himself that he is filth. Because if I do say it, though it
can be true in a sense, this is not a truth by which I myself can be penetrated:
otherwise I should either have to go mad or change myself.



You cannot write anything about yourself that is more truthful than you
yourself are. That is the difference between writing about yourself and
writing about external objects. You write about yourself from your own
height. You don't stand on sti;ts or on a ladder but on your bare feet.



Nothing is so difficult as not deceiving oneself.



In philosophy the winner of the race is the one who can run most slowly. Or:
the one who gets there last.



No one can speak the truth; if he has still not mastered himself. He cannot speak
it; — but not because he is not clever enough yet.
The truth can be spoken only by someone who is already at home in it; not
by someone who still lives in falsehood and reaches out from falsehood
towards truth on just one occasion.



One of the most important methods I use is to imagine a historical
development for our ideas different from what actually occurred. If we do this
we see the problem from a completely new angle.



Aim at being loved without being admired.



Don't take the example of others as your guide, but nature!



A philosopher is a man who has to cure many intellectual diseases in himself
before he can arrive at the notions of common sense.



What's ragged should be left ragged.



When I came home I expected a surprise and there was no surprise for me,
so, of course, I was surprised.



The thought working its way towards the light.



Madness need not be regarded as an illness. Why shouldn't it be seen as a
sudden — more or less sudden — change of character?



Wisdom is cold and to that extent stupid. (Faith on the other hand is a
passion.) It might also be said: Wisdom merely conceals life from you.
(Wisdom is like cold grey ash, covering up the glowing embers.)



Just as I cannot write verse, so too my ability to write prose extends only so far,
and no farther. There is quite definite limit to the prose I can write and I can
no more overstep that than I can write a poem. This is the nature of my
equipment; and it is the only equipment I have. It's as though someone were
to say: In this game I can only attain such and such a degree of perfection, I can't
go beyond it.



Even the most refined taste has nothing to do with creative power.



When you are philosophizing you have to descend into primeval chaos and
feel at home there.



Where others go ahead, I stay in one place.



Ambition is the death of thought.



One age misunderstands another; and a petty age misunderstands all the others
in its own nasty way.



LUDWIG WITTGENSTEIN
Culture and Value
translated by Peter Winch
(Chicago)

EARTH ~

Westward Ho!






photo © bob arnold

EARTH ~

Fats Domino

UPI Photo/Ezio Petersen

WITH ME ~

norway island




there are
barely



any
words



left
after



so many
child-



ren
murdered

to those
utoya island
norway

EARTH ~

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/07/22/us/22trees.html?src=recg





www.ikea.com

THE WAY IT GOES ~

Gillian Welch, David Rawlings

READERS ~

On the whole, I must say, I have found better men — better in every sense of the word — among the uncultured than among the cultured ones of the world. The most monstrous crimes against humanity are being committed every day by those who have had all the advantages of learning. By making people more literate, more book conscious, we can hardly say that we are thereby making better citizens of them.


A book is no better than, and usually not as good as a rock, a tree, a creature of the wild, a wisp of cloud, a wave, or a shadow on the wall. We who make books are indebted not to books but to the things which impel men to write books: earth, air, fire and water. If there were not a common source from which author and reader alike draw, there would be no books. Would it be such a calamity, a world without books? Could we not still communicate our joys, our discoveries, by word of mouth? Falling back on the tongue, there would be no need to destroy whole forests, mar the landscape, befoul the air, or dull the minds and bodies of those who toil to provide us with mental and spiritual fodder in the form of books.

— Henry Miller

from - "To Read or Not To Read"
Stand Still Like the Hummingbird
New Directions, 1962

father & son photographs over the years taken by the quiet hand of the household

photos above © susan arnold





henry miller

EARTH ~

( phoebe )

film © bob arnold

NEXUS ~

http://www.democracynow.org/blog/2011/7/21/the_british_watergate_a_backgrounder_on_the_murdoch_hacking_scandal




rupert murdoch

EARTH ~

Alien







photo © bob arnold

LESSONS ~

http://www.democracynow.org/2011/7/19/ralph_naders_solution_to_debt_crisis




MORE!








http://www.pbs.org/pov/biblioburro/





trendyprincess.com
www. democracynow.org
pbs.org

A MOMENT ~

Happily I was streaming C-Span and caught this moment Live, not having a television.

Three cheers, of course, for fellows always in flannel shirts.

And cheers as well for protective wives — Wendi Deng (Ms. Rupert Murdoch) who leapt up, in pink jacket, and got in a good slap on the patriot, Jonathan May-Bowles.

I'd call it a tie.








buster keaton with custard pies

EARTH ~

Billy Batman & Kirby Doyle

Poem To A Mountain Girl

Slowly, past this day, you sleep
and as you lightly breathe a river burns from me...
all the final voices forever said —


and in your sleep I awake, here,
have eaten an orange,
have gone to the creek and bathed
listening to its thin and liquid speech,
its joy to run so free and clean.


Now, returning to this ragged tent,
sanctuary to your sleep, your real sleep,
I wish for your waking
so that we together could take cool pause
at the hidden pond I found downstream,
our bodies quick and chilled by the water,
our bodies breathing — holding.


Now, here as pen point and shadow
touch this page
I look up almost stunned to
know that from your sleep you have loved me,
and from my awakening I have loved you back.


. . .


Karma
karman; Sanskrit; action —
root — KR, "to act"
Am I flower
--to be fancied of
clouds —
--this pure staring of
faces?
--Am I so overheated
I fume the angels,
the very choirs themselves?
I may speak of angels,
may I not,
for they speak of me —
The gates of Pan's gardens are
never closed


. . .


Come lover light
in my dawn —
come lover dawn
to my bedded cheek
come light in my dawn —


step across me
so that scent of hem
and any flower
that thou art
brings me to the
window to bless thy
leaving till
darkness brings
thee to haunt me.


Come dawn lover
to window rise
thy voice in darkest
dawn —
come upon me
by mountain shine
by quickest beam of
early light, the
sun!
thy lover ever
come down in me.
Hand me by moan
thy face in faintest
air
that kiss
abd breath still
upon me —
with heart within
my head
and my eyes to win
thee —
Come dawn lover
and light in me.


Man mourns
that which he is
and loves that which he is not.
His lover must always
come endlessly
from our eternity;
come flowing as a special
message of you and me.
O come down
dawn lover —
thy one love
upon all is our need.
O come down lover on
we


. .


from the silent world


It is the morning
I eat for breakfast
that yellow meal
of corn within
a white crock bowl —


O foods of my soul,
the wind that scatters
the near spirits
through the trees,
the wind that moves
processionally our ancestors
moves through me.


. . .


from Lyric Poems
(City Lights 1988)

A TRUE BLUE SAN FRANCISCO POET WHO WAS BORN IN SAN FRANCISCO (1932-2003 ). HIS FIRST BOOK OF POEMS WAS SAPPHOBONES (POETS HOUSE, 1966). HE ALSO WROTE PROSE ~ HAPPINESS BASTARD ( 1968) ~ LIKE JACK KEROUAC'S ON THE ROAD, THE TEXT WAS COMPOSED ON ONE CONTINUOUS SCROLL ON A TYPEWRITER. THOSE THAT KNEW HIM NEVER FORGOT HIM; THE REST OF THE WORLD GETS THE UNFORGETTABLE POEMS.