George Sessions, my first philosophy teacher talked about Little Big Man -
expressing admiration for the book, which I've never experienced, not the
movie, which I have.


Last night in fact.  I'm a dad with three teen daughters and thus vastly
outvoted on movie nites, mostly, but I grabbed the Dustin Hoffman flick off
the shelves for the Thanksgiving day weekend and we watched it Thursday
evening after getting back home from my mom's where I was mostly good and
stayed out of trouble.  Got there late, left early, didn't make waves.  We
had to do the obligatory "what I'm thankful for" thing.   But first, she
read some little speech she got off the internet that sounded mainly to my
ears... blah, blah, yay white people of victorian values, blah blah...


So when my turn came, I just said I was thankful for the peace loving
natives willing to help out us poor white folk when our very survival was at
stake.   I heard a fair share of 'amen's around the table, but I sorta
missed the "ho"s I'd heard the day before with Rudy.  And then we ate and
then my family went home and watched images of US Cavalry cavalierily
butchering the nit-making  licentious red man, woman and child.


It was a strange Thanksgiving.  For lots of reasons.  Most of them you've
been overly informed about so no need belaboring the obvious which is -   I
thought a lot about Indians.


When I first came across them in Lila, my immediate impression  was wtf?  I
was looking for metaphysical progress in an new intellectual paradigm, and
hopefully news of Chris, instead there's this floozy and a bunch of
shiftless indians.


wtf indeed.


But where do the ways of the East and the ways of the West meet?  In the
middle of turtle island.  That's where.   That's where the extremes come
together and the middle way is synthesized.  An ongoing process that I felt
but didn't intellectualize till Bob objectified it for me.  Praise his name,
  it only seems like  the ones  with SOM,  metallurgy and concomitant
industrialization dominate.  That's just a part of the process which is
about over.  It doesn't go on forever.


Not even as long as the wind blows, the grass grows, and the sky remains
blue.


Much, much sooner than that, is my prayer.
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