Exorcism of Corona

This morning, a cold, gray dawn, a cry of gulls, reminds me I am on an island, twelve miles long, nine miles wide, sold to the Dutch by the native Indians for $26 worth of trinkets. A little ship of death, stuck between two rivers facing a dark Atlantic.

This morning, gray and wet, is most pleasant. I gather my attention span around me, like a tattered robe of many colors, resting upon my shoulders, as I sip my first cup of coffee. I have no choices to make, no commitments, I have enough supplies (a gentle cough). I wait for a signal.

Was that a normal cough? A simple clearing of the throat? Or the harbinger of an unknown fate? Or are you one of the serendipity sisters, who wants to use my voice, a siren-song, an opening salvo, from Covid Symptomatic, Inc. Covid rhymes with Ovid. No more of that. That way madness lies. No more of that.

I breathe deep into chest cavity, stretching the diaphragm to capacity, deeper into the pelvic floor, release…I inhale rapidly, in and out, until I feel the warm gases in my body creates a humming sensation in hands, face, feet…I sing the vowels on different pitches…Co-Ro-Na…an incantation,resonating with the sounds, aware of a slightly sour stomach.

I drop the paranoia, produced by prolonged exposure to the computer, the flat screen, with it’s noisy prerogatives, demanding my attention, with the intention to agitate with algorithms, 1s or 0s.

I return to coffee, indulging in the luxurious, meaningless quiet, no signals, no information, just the cry of the gulls, and the luminous pearly drops of water, like a string of silver beads, hanging from the underside of the bare branches, framed by the open window, which emits cold air, into warm lungs.

I can use my vocabulary to fill up the emptiness, I know a lot of words, I am at liberty to select from many words, matching them up, like a blind date, with sensations sweet, scenarios, snatches of sonnets, I memorized when I was a youth, mouth feelings, percolating with a heat oppressed brain, firing neurons, reaching thresholds, jumping across synaptic clefts, synaptic cliffs of fall, frightful-

Co-Ro-Na I intone, settling into the soft, round vowels, feeling the resonance in the chest cavity, a seductive power, the long vowels. Ventricular arms. A squishy squid. Black seaweed, waving underwater…

What do you want from us, lovely Co-Ro-Na? Do you wish that we might cease upon the midnight with no pain? Or are you the monster that they say you are? You have gotten us to shut up. We listen. We feel you.

Your magic will not save you, she hisses, between short bursts of staccato static.

That rough magic I do abjure, I try to assure her. Are you a vision or a waking dream? Are you like the lonely nightingale or a long oil slick, flickering flames, upon the foamy seas, closing the Dow, the falling Dow, with the clang of an ugly cow bell-

O my Corona.


I haven’t had my coffee yet.
I’ve mustered enough energy to cross the room and let the light of the gray morning in. Patterns of water cling to the window screen and I remember how so very much I like “reading weather”.
Procedures to write and revise; Excel spreadsheets to create; phone calls and e-mail and reports…

Work continues and I dare not complain while so many face a more dire situation.
More dire, you say, than courting a coughing, choking demise, an end to earthly dreams for oneself or another who cannot be replaced?

Yes, for income is more precious than air and more real than time. Can there be an effective antibody for a virus such as this?

Well, I muse as I slowly gather enough energy to put a kettle to boil, if other means fail I can use my retirement fund stock reports to wipe my ass…


This made me laugh, TJ. Very funny. Keep it up! We, who have lost our stock options in the last recession, salute you! May you find some interesting patterns today. I am reading the last chapter of Lent’s book. Much food for thought.

Wow! I just saw two mockingbirds and a big blue jay sit on the branches of my tree. Oh my God! Three of them. I think this is a sign. A sign of what I am not sure but I love it! I had a short burst of ecstasy. I must be getting old and soft in the head.


Age we all must. But softness in the head implies weakening mental capacity. Not seeing this in you.
Now softness in the heart is another matter… :slightly_smiling_face:

I preheat the oven and dig out packages of meat, potatoes, and stir-fry vegetables, determined to make the most of domestic grounding. The scent of cooking oil garners attention.
My younger son, my mini-me history buff, looks up from shooting down enemy planes with his game controller. Already the novelties of relaxed bedtimes and at-your-own-pace education are wearing thin. He assures me, for the third time, that he has indeed completed his assignments for the day. And that he finished reading the Iliad last night. This is “day three of the siege,” he announces. “This one better not take ten years.”
We laugh. While we can.


A chip off the old block! Where did he get the energy to read Homer? I’m sure that is a very good sign. Out of such acuity good things arise. I remember the first time I read Homer.

I took a nap, after wrestling with my muse, and dreamed of Obama. We were cleaning out his attic and he finds a green eye mask. He asks me to take it to a board meeting that we are attending this afternoon. I tell him I might be late, that I have to go home and get my costume together. As we part, I am surprised I am so casual around the former President. We act like old buddies.

On my way home I notice I have on a ridiculous outfit, all in black. I am determined to get another ensemble together, something that will match the green mask. Maybe Robin Hood? All I need is a bow and arrow set.

We are such stuff as dreams are made of…let’s keep laughing.


Yes;as Bruce Lee advised “Be Like Water”;
the Skull has fewer openings around it than The Heart, look at from
a anatomical perspective…the Heart can keep Flowing even if the head is infected with either physical or mental viruses. Interesting ?


“Day seven of the siege”…
The rain comes down.
Three males, 52, 18, and 13, hunch over their laptops, at this point grateful for something to do, something to occupy the mind and the hands if not the heart.
(No, that’s not true for 13, wrapping himself around a science problem. Oh to be 13 again and have an entire world, a cosmos to discover for the first time.)

Lunchtime approaches again. This is a time to be in great thanks for food, refrigeration, working appliances, shelter…
Each other…


I imagine you are describing the current circumstance of the entire first world. I move back and forth from books to laptop in a jagged kind of rhythm. I do think I am happiest with a book but I am now reading online because the libraries and bookstores are closed. Being grateful is the key I think to working with the messy mindscapes we are trying to use more effectively. I am grateful for the music we have available and the capacity to share some of weirdest thoughts in a semi-public forum.

I am reminded of The Decameron which is set in a villa outside Florence during the Black Death. The quarantined young people shared stories, which gives us a glimpse into the interior spaces of those terrible times. I have not read that book due to lack of time. Maybe now is the time?


To Borrow the Meta-phor from Ed Mahood : The Radio & Attuning.One of the practices I am engaged in is Attuning to what’s out there that I find interesting,useful for not only my self,but the self & other- world, Difference-Divide.

Where,When,How,Why & Who? questions Impact my Attention as I Attune.And Response-Ability of Opening & Receiving said Signal or Noise seems to this Vulnerable Human Being to Be within my Hand,Eye ,Ear & Touch capacities. A lot of this falls under trial & Error.

I am finding as I Surf( I am from Cailfornia) the internet for some Attunement in this regards, Goodness is happening,which doesn’t mean one does not encounter some WTF?
I say some of this stuff, like this article has helped;when I go out & walk the streets (I am in good health & use caution-( not High Anxiety),I experience People to a large Degree Kind & Civil.
So this to say “Welcome to the Old Dance with a New Swing”!!!

P.S. I worked in the California Youth Training System(Prison) & there was a saying I Had to Use sometimes that they gave us to work with the youths (boys) that were acting out…“Don’t Mistake My Kindness for Weakness”,which to be Really Clear as Mud saying “No” can be a “Kind ACT” & can Be a Bridge to saying Yes & Mean It!



Some definitions
Daemon refers to benevolent and noble spirits in Greek mythology. On the other hand, demon refers to an evil creature. This is the main difference between the two words.

The Devil, in my view, is a variation upon the Demonic and close to Evil. Evil, as Simone Weill said, is the desire to eat what you should only look at. I would claim that late stage Capitalism, and its zeal to control and devour is Demonic desire.

To paraphrase therapist James Hillman, exorcism is a ritual that differentiates the Devil from the Daemon.

Daemon, the Divine Double, is capable of profound a self-love that holds many personalities in a coherent dynamic bond. I that is We. The Divine Double is aware of the split, like a twist in the Mobius strip between inside/outside, interior/exterior.

Ecstasy is the capacity to hold both at the same time and recognize the differences that make a difference. The post-tragic world that may be emerging is able to face tragedy but not be consumed by it.

Fear is to be respected, as we can never enter a new reality without it. Before we take a leap we need to take something with us into that new world. Rituals create a bridge.

This perhaps a process rather than a goal to be achieved. There is no finish line. Art, play, ritual are entangled. Perhaps we are starting to create a science of the lyrical.



And the darkness inside the light. My father was an evil bastard that dominated everyone he could. He confused power within and power over. He was afraid we would abandon him if we were not afraid of him. Sadly, all of us did abandon him. His strategy did not work as most bullies usually find out too late. He did say one wise thing to me. " You have been gentle with me. I was not gentle with you." And he learned that the hard way because I whooped his ass! Just because I am kind does not mean I am weak. I think he may have made some transitions towards the end of his life but I let him know ruthlessly that he would die alone. He could no longer steal my fire for his own nefarious purposes. I released him to the wisdom of his own Daemon. Black and white can be blended. We need to have a subtle shade of gray in the divine person we are becoming. This personal dilemma is enacted by many now as we try to sort out justice from mercy. I look upon the darkness that the blind do see.


Every time you speak of the man, my nearest son gets a hug.

This time it happened to be the mini-me who was perusing my bookshelf in a moment of rainy-day ennui.
(Ed will love this.)
He pauses, selects a thick volume, adopts a quizzical look, opens and closes it, puts it back.

“Hey, Dad, why would anyone write 600 pages about… bubbles?”


Ah Yes of Course there is; we can be most Blind in the Light,
And Feel-see most Clearly in the Dark.
Either Way the Quality of Our Attention Directs the Open Awareness to the Experience.

A working answer to the Size & Shape:


That’s the funniest thing I have heard all day!!! It is the only funny thing I have heard all day. I hope you had a good explanation ready for your son. By the way, I have started to look at Foams just out of curiosity. What I really like about Peter S. is his intriguing titles. Since I bought the damn book and have plenty of time I might dip into it again. There may be something interesting about immunity and social topologies. I may be more ready than I was to deal with his purple prose.


I couldn’t think of one at the moment. I was laughing too hard and only managed to get out: “It’s a little complicated…” :laughing:

Yes, now that I am saving more than three hours commute time each week, I am looking at Foams as well. I want to finish Bellah first, though (Chapter 4 tonight). And after that, we’ll see. I bought A History of the World in 12 Maps by Jerry Brotton, a couple of weeks ago on a whim. (I don’t like to impulse buy, but of course now I’m glad I did.) Looks like it will be a fascinating examination of how “we” see the world.

Hehehe. I bet they could quarantine the members of this group for the rest of the year and we still wouldn’t get through our reading lists…


Ah, the wisdom of the child. :grin:


Believe me…Sloterdijk hasn’t changed. There are moments of beauty and grace. There are looooong moments of passages that lead to … what exactly are you getting at man? Foams … I will take the blame for mentioning the book when it comes time. But hey…sounds like we’ve got a bit of that.


Well, I know you’ll find this odd, but I actually have a reading list (an Excel spreadsheet) that I made shortly before I retired. I had started out with 450 entries, but in the meantime the list has grown (thanks y’all :smirk:) to 672. I have only managed 257 so far, and even if I have 3 running concurrently at the moment, :sweat: I’m certainly not on track to finish the list by the end of the year.

What I haven’t added to the list list (yet) is my recent acquisition of the 14-volume paperback version of the complete works of (surprise!) Goethe (hey ,it was a steal used, excellent condition for 32€ :blush:), the shortest volume encompassing just over 600 pages (talk about prolific :open_mouth:). As I’m currently reading a recent biography of the gentleman, it is proving to be an invaluable reference (so you can see how at least some of that current reading progress is being slowed down, but it’s worth it).

Steiner’s Human and Cosmic Thought is in the “Re-read” column, as is Betti’s Twelve Ways of Seeing the World, but von Gleich’s Die Wahrheit als Gesamtumfang aller Weltansichten [Truth as the Total Extent of all Worldviews] (1947/1989) which is one anthroposophist’s elaboration of the Steiner 1914 lectures has been added. This little “project” will no doubt slow me down, too. :roll_eyes:

Keep busy, but keep safe.


With my blessing, sir. The virus has initiated many changes in our lives, to be sure, but even after 10 days of social distancing, I’m not ready to take either Blasen [Bubbles] nor his Kritik der zynischen Vernunft [Critique of Cynical Reason] . One-hundred and fifty or so years ago, the Germans used the word “brown” to describe what we in English often see as “purple” (e.g., sunsets, mountains, etc.). In the meantime, of course, the adjective “Braun” is used primarily (metaphorically) to intimate fascist and neo-nazi tendencies (since the nazis of old wore brown shirts and then uniforms). That is a vein of (German) thinking I’m not convinced Mr. Sloterdijk has been able to distance himself from.

Dear Peter S., however, has not had his TV show, nor has he been invited to any other talk-type show for half-a-dozen years now. A younger thinker (who actually got his PhD in German literature, writing his dissertation about Musil’s The Man without Qualities), Richard David Precht has become Germany’s TV philosopher, if you will. His show is still running (late night, as you might imagine, about once a month) – in fact, he wrote the critique of Sloterdijk that I posted to the Bubbles thread oh, so long ago. He wrote a detective novel, with his brother, which was quite intriguing since there was no crime, but he primarily writes philosophy for the general public (he’s much more accessible). I read his Who am I? And if so, how many? which was an insightful, brief history of I/Ego/Self and the consequences for the search for Truth and morality since Plato.

But, this is actually an aside. What I wanted to respond to originally was this:

The reverse-Promethean image really jumped out at me. It could be that I’m a bit “Prometheus prone” at the moment, for Goethe’s early life was filled with that myth. He worked and wrestled with it for years. In his case, of course, it was he who was Prometheus defying the gods, That’s how we often think of him. Your use is a truly mind-slapping twist on that. Excellent. If you save things from your informal writings for more “serious” things you may write, that one’s a keeper.