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| Nero |
I posted so much because I was reading three to five newspapers a day, watching countless hours of coverage of the election (all channels -- except Fox News, which I don't count as news so much), and really paying attention to the world. I think I believed -- like a football fan who can't just Tivo the game, but must watch it live, in case his team needs him -- that if I paid attention, I could make a difference. To the country. And maybe to the world a little bit, too. Maybe if we all concentrated hard enough with our good intentions and our best thoughts and wishes, we could alter the trajectory of hate and violence we've been on for ten years.
But the truth is - and I know this now -- we can't.
We're kind of doomed.
Not in a "blood moon, rivers of fire" kind of way. But in a "collapse of the Roman Empire" kind of way.
I think in the last couple of days, I've come to understand Nero a little better. He didn't fiddle while Rome burned because he couldn't see the fire. He fiddled while Rome burned because he knew, tacitly, that there was nothing he could do to put the fire out. And maybe, somewhere inside, he knew that it was time for Rome to burn. It was Rome's turn to fall apart and then start anew. Rome still exists. So do the Greeks. So do the English and the Egyptians. Not they way they did once, perhaps. But they're still here, alive and well, and dedicated to all things Roman/Greek/English/Egyptian.
There's a little less hubris there, and a little more humility. But each fallen empire has retained its autonomy and its cultural... well... arrogance, frankly -- and good for them. They created and built and wrote and painted and sculpted their way into history, and they deserve a little pat on their backs and a toot of their horns for it. We'll survive, too. We'll be different, and right now, we don't know what that looks like, and it's making us mighty, mighty uncomfortable. But every major religious, spiritual and historical work hints that our time as a the Last Emperor is coming to a close. An era is ending, and a new one beginning, and, like most new eras, it's full of promise and misadventure.
I started this blog because I can't focus on that anymore. I can't control it. I can't change it. I can't embrace it. I don't like it. I don't like those people. I'm not wild about them anymore, those people whose articles and blogs I read, who's shows I watched. I don't like their outlooks on what's happening. Most of all, I don't agree with it.
In light of the horrible events in Tuscon over the weekend, I'd forgotten the most important part of my new zen approach. You people are not my children, and I'm not responsible for you. I'm not responsible for your ignorance or your attitude, your bigotry or your hate. If you want to be a bigot, this is America, and you get to be that. If you want to be a homophobe or a crazy, radical extremist, again, as long as you operate inside the boundaries of the law, you get to be those things. I'm here to talk about food -- how to make it, what it means to me (and to all of us, in many way). I'm here to talk about fresh basil and portabello mushrooms. When it comes to the rest of you, you can either join me for the ride, or not. But I'm not in the business of directed intention when it comes to politics.
Y'all are on your own.
We're on the precipice of something big, something huge. As it happens, my spirituality teaches that we're on the brink of an epic age of love and compassion the likes of which has never been seen on this earth. Yeah. That's good. Let's go with that. I have decided to accept what is happening in the world as part of what needs to happen. I can't control it or stop it anymore than I can stop the tides or control the rain. So I've decided to use cooking as my form of meditation.
So, I started this blog because I want to learn to cook. I want to make myself a better cook and make other people want to be better cooks. I started this blog because it's a distraction away from thinking about the dark seriousness of this past Sunday's events.
I'm Nero. This blog is my fiddle. So while I pick out "Turkey in the Straw" as best I can, we'll all think about ways to cook up that turkey and make it yummy. And we won't need to concern ourselves with the ugliness of the world.
