fear and dandruff

Fear is a common topic in these sporadic belches.  Dandruff, rare.  Ah, dandruff!  It's me coming off in smallish scaly pieces, a-blowin-in the wind, mingling with the junk that settles in the new settlements or on your new suit.  I amused a band-mate in an airplane in 1978 or so by tilting my head ever so starboardly, scratching surreptitiously, and depositing bits of me on the traveler seated to my left.  No charge!  Sir, madam.  Cocktails! yelled the band-mate, chuckling.

What would I do without dandruff?

I am told that habitual scalp play is classified with the OCD disorders (ATM machines), like compulsive hand-washing, rubbing raw of any accessible body part (no, not that! jeezus).

I like to think of myself as a little native American engaging in little mini-scalpings.

Okay, enough.  Just let it be known, I am not a flake.  Though advancing through my 60's I slowly gather more and more evidence that I am one.  But the gathering of evidence belies the flakiness.   Thing is, if you don't drink and don't ingest THC, you, like me, will retain at least enough clarity to be scared out of your wits pretty much all the time.

It used to be:  Oh god, please don't let them find out the truth (that I am a fake).  Now it's more, oh god, please don't let me find out the truth (that You are a fake).  Rabbi Reblen, my cousin and truly my only remaining childhood friend said the clever thing:  God delegates to Nature, and Nature has no conscience.  Most folks are disturbed by the apparent presence of Evil in the world.  What bugs me is the fear.  Get it?  "I see Evil" means "I am scared, mama!"  Fear not.  There is the world.  It is perfect.  An ongoing perfect mess. 

Those who make the mistake of caring about the big world often mess up their own backyard.  It is hard enough, even with a brand new push-mower, to keep the yards presentable.  Syria?  Be serious!
It is fashionable around these parts to be non-harming.  Many younger yogic/zen friends of mine aspire, and in the aspiring they accidentally leave a messy wake.  But nobody I know is throwing himself into anything like a full-tilt joust  (possible exceptions, the 2 youngsters I just helped pack up to move to DC --  beware the unintended consequences is my caution to them, unspoken). 

I started a list of dead friends of mine.  This was a thoughtful move on my part.  I thought it might help my daughter make good choices on her wedding invitation list.  (Don't invite dead people --  then again, they are cheap to feed --  and in Texas, many vote!)

There are few constants in my life.  There is music, for now, there is low level fear (Evil lurks), there is lonliness, and there is dandruff.  There used to be writing!  Now it seems I'm out of think.