ARTS & FARCES internet

Sue McLean announced the lineup for her most excellent Music in the Zoo series this morning and I’m pretty excited in that both Los Lobos and Bela Fleck and the Flecktones are included. Season packages get revealed on Monday 11 April and go on sale Friday 22 April. Individual shows go on sale for FlexPerks members three days earlier, on Tuesday 19 April through Ticketmaster.

Liking all kinds of music, there’s nothing on the entire season’s bill that I wouldn’t be interested in seeing except for the two Monkees shows. So, from top to botton, here are my notes for winnowing the shows I’m considering down to those you can expect to find Karen and me at this year.

The first show on the lineup that catches my eye is James Cotton and Charlie Musselwhite. I’d really like to see this one, and if it’s in a package, I’ll bite, but probably can’t afford it on its own.

Next up is Nanci Griffith on Saturday, 25 June (US$38). I’m wishing this was an “Evening with…” show (multiple sets), but I’ll take what I can get. Griffith is a wonderful songwriter with an, um, unmistakable voice.

I’d like to see Dark Star Orchestra—but I’d like to know which Grateful Dead show they’d be recreating beforehand. While every Dead show was better than no Dead show, some (and some eras) were distinctly better than others. It’s on Monday, 27 June (US$29), and I wouldn’t be able to make it on time for the opener because of dialysis, but if it’s in a package, I’m in.

Next up is Taj Mahal on Wednesday, 29 June (US$47). The last couple of Taj Mahal shows I’ve seen were phoned in, but he’s pushing 70, still up there, and still has it. Add Mavis Staples to the mix and this one could be a standout.

Thursday, 30 June brings Matisyahu and the Dickinson brothers of the North Mississippi Allstars (US$40). I’ve never seen Matisyahu, and not sure what to think. This one’s on the bubble; add it to an attractive package and it’s a go. If the Dickinson brothers were on the bill alone, it’d be a must-see.

I’ve received a lot of kind words in email leading up to the valve job. Two are especially pertinent.

Bert is one of my longest-time friends—we’ve known each other since undergraduate school and haven’t seen each other since 1976 or so. He was quick to tell me that the enema kit would come in handy by relaying a story when his family was camping with a crowd of other folks.

In a federally maintained campground, complete with cement cinder covered tent, bench, and grill areas for good drainage, Leonard grilled chicken breasts for everyone:

“The grease from 24 chicken breast soaks into the cinder below the government issue fixed grill. Molly, a very friendly Golden Retriever, later eats a bunch of greasy cinder chips before we notice and drag her away. The next day is the obligatory nature hike. Some of the kids are whining because the path is steep and difficult. They are organizing and threatening a full strike when low and behold we all turn at an amazing sound of a combination fart and whimper. Molly, the Golden Retriever, is dropping the first of many loads of steaming concrete! I jumped on the situation; ‘If she can stand to do that surely you kids can walk a few more miles, and anyway you’ll get to watch her!’ None of us really believed one of God’s creatures could survive such a repetitive and obviously painful experience.”

Bert closed the story by telling me to not eat any cinder chips.

My good friend Bernard, a Catholic Priest in Dublin, emailed a passage from A Showing of Divine Love by the English mystic, Julian of Norwich:

“And all will be well and all will be well and all manner of things will be well! ... He said not ‘Thou shalt not be tempested, thou shalt not be travailed, thou shalt not be dis-eased’; but he said, ‘Thou shalt not be overcome.’ ... If there is anywhere on earth a lover of God who is always kept safe, I know nothing of it, for it was not shown to
me. But this was shown: That in falling and rising again we are always kept in that same precious love.”

I don’t know why, but of everything everyone has sent me this one really hit me the hardest (in the sense of Bob Marley’s “Trenchtown Rock:” “One good thing about music, when it hits you feel no pain.”

Bernard goes on to write that he’ll “assault heaven” with a celebration of mass. And then, being an Irishman, he goes on to complain about his broken knees, “cracked from carrying my heavy body mass while praying on my knees, and flattened from my Thursday assault on heaven.”

I wrote back that I’d send some knee pads for his affliction and that they work pretty well in the garden, too.

Bernard responded with appreciation and insightful goodwill: “These will be days of grace—the times of deepness always are.”

I’m sorry to say that one of my newest friends, Berenice “Bee” Bleedorn passed away on 22 February 2011 at the ripe age of 99. Bee had much more energy than just about anyone I know and she was almost constantly pestering me to become more involved in her work championing creativity and critical thinking.

Bee and I met when she read an article I had written for the University of Minnesota’s College of Design magazine on the teaching of creativity and critical thinking. A lot of my undergraduate and graduate work focused on the research and discoveries of E. Paul Torrance. She requested my presence at one of her regular meetings and I went. Bee had been a close associate of Torrance and, more than anyone I know, has worked tirelessly to ensure the Torrance legacy with regard to creativity and critical thinking.

Graduating from Waconia High School in 1929, she began teaching at Rutz Lake in 1930. She received her BA from the University of Minnesota in 1967 and an MA in Educational Psychology two years later. During her undergraduate years, Bee served as a research assistant to Torrance and was subsequently honored by him for visionary leadership in 1998. At the age of 74, after her two daughters were grown, Bee received her PhD in Leadership and Human Behavior from the US International University in San Diego, and went on to publish five books. She founded the Institute for Creative Studies at the University of Saint Thomas in Saint Paul.

Visitation will be held at the Saint Joan of Arc Church in Minneapolis on 1 March 2011 at 3PM. A Memorial Mass will be held at 5PM, and a reception will take place at Moscow on the Hill in Saint Paul at 5PM.

Bee was tremendous spirit, a remarkable woman, and a warrior advocate. I regret not having gotten to know her better.

I’ve been feeling really old for the last couple of years. At first I thought it was my end-stage renal disease taking its toll after being almost manageable for the last 10 years. Then I thought it was working in a university environment. Then I thought that I was just getting, well, old.

But, I don’t think it’s me. At least not just me. A neighbor—totally out of the preconceived image of him I held in my mind from previous conversations—caught me by complete surprise this morning with a comment about listening to Lou Reed’s “Perfect Day.” And his grin was all-telling and unmistakable. The weather’s been way above normal temperatures up here on the far edge for the past two days and has been stunningly beautiful, but still. Lou Reed’s entire Transformer album was breathtakingly ahead of its time.

Snippets like that encounter with a neighbor serve as examples of my feeling simultaneously completely connected and completely out of touch. At first, it was a new experience, and like all new experiences, interesting. Now it’s starting to get disturbing.

Then comes Douglas Coupland’s “A radical pessimist’s guide to the next 10 years” in the Globe and Mail. Coupland nails how I’ve been feeling with this bit:

“The future isn’t going to feel futuristic

It’s simply going to feel weird and out-of-control-ish, the way it does now, because too many things are changing too quickly. The reason the future feels odd is because of its unpredictability. If the future didn’t feel weirdly unexpected, then something would be wrong.”

At least I hope that’s what’s going on.

I’ve been waiting for a Jetson’s future that never came. And the out-of-control future that I knew—I just knew somewhere in the dark recesses was coming—snuck up on me from behind.

This is not going to end well.

Most Buddhists believe in the prophecy of Maitreya as a bodhisattva who will descend from Tusita (the closest Christian analogy is heaven) to Earth, become enlightened, and teach the pure Dharma. Maitreya is believed to incarnate after the teachings of Gautama (Dharma) have been forgotten. Instead of entering nirvana, Maitreya remains embodied so he or she can help and teach the rest of us in the building of a new world. The arrival of Maitreya marks the end of what Buddhists call the middle time, a low point of human existence on Earth.

Although Maitreya, arguably, originated with Buddhist thought, other spiritual movements and religions—including Islam, Zoroastrianism, Bahai, theosophy, the ascended master teachings, and others—have adopted the concept.

Throughout recorded history, individuals have claimed to be Maitreya, usually to form a minor Buddhist sect or cult.

One of the modern followings, Share International—an outgrowth of theosophy—believes Maitreya fulfills the prophecies of most major religions: Christianity (the second coming of Christ); Hinduism (the Kalki avatar of Vishnu); Islam (the Imam Mahdi); Judaism (the Jewish Messiah). Benjamin Creme, the originator of Share International, and his followers believe that Maitreya was embodied in the Himalayas and moved to London in 1977 and then to the US, emerging gradually so as not to impede free will. Largely as a reaction to Creme’s activities, the evangelical Christians (mostly in the US) claim Maitreya to be the Antichrist. Ironically, Creme and his followers do not claim Maitreya as a religious leader; only that Maitreya will unite the global population to reorder social priorities, making food, housing, education, and medical care universal human rights.