Who the Hell would name a dog Sirius?

Dark in darkness, 7H porch is for contemplation. Except warning lights, flashing tower across the Bay and nav lights marking channels on the Bay, nothing human stands between me and Whoever or Whatever. Is out there. Is up there. Orion early, and his dog Sirius, high and east before obliterated by the Sun. Sounds as day returns, traffic, something about a dumpster. 7H is high and so are the hvac compressors, there’s that. 

Meditation is a pain in the BeeYuu that requires initiation, effort. Contemplation just watches and waits. After a while wanders off onto something, a distraction, we have lovely life here, birds. Mullet jump. Pelican splashes. Now and then a shark darts in the shallows at my feet.

Contemplation. 

What’s the matter with us? Las Vegas. Sandy Hook. Pogo is right. The enemy is not some foreigner. If we have nothing to fear but fear itself, our fear is to look in the mirror. We are not blind, we know, we understand, we get it but tell ourselves nothing can be done. Yet if nothing can be done it is only because, morally nonexistent, gutterized, we have given ourselves rights that are dearer to us than human lives, even than total innocence. 

Where to go, escape? Somewhere out there where there are no humans. Not even me.

DThos+