Occupation of Independence

It is easy to see why a lost dog would affect a dog-owner so much: we have gone through the temporary loss of our own dog once or twice.  But I was really affected by two beautiful dogs that were loose on the edge of a high plateau in northern Utah.   They were fairly friendly, but wouldn't let me come up and read a phone number on their tag or collar.  They didn't really want water from my bottle, but that isn't too surprising considering all the ponds in the area.  They weren't in any immediate danger.   In fact they were full of youthful vitality.  They were enjoying their romp together.  Their adventure and freedom.  Despite expressing 'danger' in one sense of the word, these two dogs were advertisements for the idea that 'life isn't about Meaning, it is about Desire.'  I made a call to Animal Control but don't know what happened after that.  I suspect the dogs belonged to a hunter or camper in the area, and that they 'turned themselves i

It is strange how a person can skip visiting certain areas, year after after, despite being close to them and saying that they really want to get there "next time."  I have said that when camping in northern Utah on the edge of a plateau 3000 feet above town.  A couple miles from my usual campsite, a small copse of aspen seems to hang near the edge of the plateau.  Something about it is so alluring.  There is a small, fine rectangle around that copse in the top middle of this photo: The copse has always seemed so desirable, so noble and pure, and yet so unapproachable. I have yearned for it like a knight in the Middle Ages romanticizing getting to Jerusalem or meeting a beautiful damsel, unapproachable behind the high walls of her castle.   The scalloped walls of the intervening canyon can be seen as dragon's teeth that make the approach impossible.  But the copse was approachable on another road.  Somebody said the road was rough but in fact it was an easy road.  I was d

I praise Caitlin Johnstone for her persistent and vicious criticism of Israel.   But words are not sufficient.  Signing up at the link will bring her articles to your email.  Then you can either read them or click on the sound arrow if you prefer to hear her words. But there is another way to "hear" Johnstone.  By luck I was watching DVDs of "The Last Kingdom," the TV show made of Bernard Cornwell's "Saxon Tales".  It is the story of Alfred the Great and his offspring fighting off the Danes around year 900. The theme music is wild, barbaric, female wailing by Eivor, a woman from the Faroe Islands.  I just love her wailing.  It is impossible to hear her without immediately slipping into the mood of the show, much of which is vicious swordplay.   Live performances never sound quite as good as studio recordings, but the You Tube link is fun to hear. Bingo!  Something about the ferocity of her voice reminds me of Caitlin Johnstone's 'poison pen.

  It is the quiet season.  Hunting season.  That is a bit ironic, isn't it? I started my annual invasion of Utah a couple weeks early this year.  It was quite a surprise to see so many hunters.  A couple of them explained that a change in the legal hunting season this year has resulted in more elk hunters. I never hear any guns during hunting season.  Just think of all the equipment these guys own, the fees, and all the trouble they go to; and apparently, most of them never get a shot off. Maybe they see hunting season as just an excuse to drive around in their side-by-sides in cool refreshing weather, camp with the boys, and escape the women-folk for a few days. It can be enjoyable to be exposed to the culture and comradery of sports that you know nothing about it.  I have experienced this with mule-handlers and long-distance horse riders.  Even hang gliders, a couple times.  I wish it happened more often.  Fly fishing culture interests me; identifying  animal tracks; learning sur