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Ode to February

Updated: Jan 31, 2022

February begins with a rat forecasting the end or not of winter. The shortis of months, it has hiccups every four years adding another day and causing people to have a continuation day every four years. As for me, the 11th of this month marks the 38th anniversary of my 39th birthday. I’m known as a guy who was born the day before Abraham Lincoln. And, to make the month acceptable, right in the middle of it, we all must be saved by desire and call upon a Greek Lesser-God, to intervene–Cupid to get us through the long night of the month. This desire is fostered by a winged and fickle immortal, who plays out it’s role forever, because of all kinds of godley karma:

As described by Shakespeare in A Midsummer Night's Dream (1590s):[17]

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Nor hath love's mind of any judgement taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste. And therefore is love said to be a child. Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.[18]

November is also Black History Month. A down-to-earth epic of such proportions that it puts the question of equanimity to the test of being an antidote for greed, hate, and delusion.

February is a month of contrasts (what else is new) from rat prognostication, to having to love, to reconciliation of mistreatment. While each month has its Americanised theme, we often seem out of touch with the somewhat forced role playing required to keep-up, at some financial cost, with the traditions of the times.

This month, like its siblings, offers illusions for our whimsy and emancipation for social misdeeds. Marking time..uji as noted by Dogen, is a distinction of being. So Tuesday night February 1, we’ll talk about Marking-Time. Please join us!



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