Bob Schwartz

Month: December, 2018

Trump Predicts Revolt If He Is Removed. Are His Words Illegal?

King Louis XV: “Après nous, le deluge.”

Barely noted yesterday, or mostly ignored because we discount just about everything that Trump says, is this from his interview with Reuters, talking about the possibility of impeachment:

“I’m not concerned, no. I think that the people would revolt if that happened.”

A President of the United States just suggested—implicitly endorsed—the possibility of revolution in the event of his ouster. Had this happened at any other time in the past two centuries, bells would be going off as if the Republic was on fire.

In the first place, it is arguably illegal:

18 U.S. Code § 2385 – Advocating Overthrow of Government

Whoever knowingly or willfully advocates, abets, advises, or teaches the duty, necessity, desirability, or propriety of overthrowing or destroying the government of the United States or the government of any State, Territory, District or Possession thereof, or the government of any political subdivision therein, by force or violence, or by the assassination of any officer of any such government…

Shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than twenty years, or both, and shall be ineligible for employment by the United States or any department or agency thereof, for the five years next following his conviction.

Does his interview constitute advocating or advising the desirability of overthrowing government? As a matter of crime, it might be a stretch. As a matter of civic responsibility from America’s highest public office, it is farther over the line than almost anything else Trump has said—and that is saying something.

Second—and this is the real bell ringer—he is in some sense right. The form of revolt is uncertain, but it would likely be more than angry and vicious posts on social media. Even his vacating the office through resignation or by electoral defeat in 2020 might have a similar effect.

In America’s darkest historic hour before the Civil War, in an overheated political climate, some of the greatest statesmen in our history tried to keep the lid on a boiling pot. They failed.

We are nowhere near that. But among the roster of politicians, we don’t seem to have as many genuine statesmen as we had back then—or as we had just a few decades ago. And we’ve never had a president predicting—encouraging—revolt as the consequence of his absence.


Ten Reasons a Letter Board Is a Perfect Gift

Ten reasons a letter board is a perfect gift:

1. It is not digital.
For most people, most words are now digital. Words are not digital.

2. It is a perfect place for very short poems, including haiku.
The haiku on the letter board above is by Hokushi (1665–1718), a student of Bashō.

3. It is creative.
Some people have many creative outlets; some have few or none. This is one more.

4. It promotes awareness and mindfulness.
Enlightenment, however, is not guaranteed.

5. It raises awareness that writing is made with letters.
Paragraphs are made with sentences are made with phrases are made with words are made with…letters.

6. People will say, “Wow, that’s so cool!”
If being or seeming cool is important to you.

7. It solves gift giving.
People either already have a letter board and wish they had more or don’t have one but will wonder how they ever lived without it.

8. It promotes slowness.
Many things we do are done too fast. Many things we do are better done slowly. Putting words together is one of them.

9. It helps overcome fear of the blank page.
Facing a blank page is daunting for some people. But as you dig into the plastic letters, you will feel yourself emboldened to take a chance. What’s the worst that can happen? If you don’t like the words you put up, you can take them right down and start over.

10. Letters are sacred.
Almost all religious and spiritual traditions have special regard for letters. In some cases, it is said that all creation is constructed from letters.

To discover more about the joys of letter boards, visit Felt Like Sharing, who make the highest quality letter boards in all kinds of colors (black board, white letters is still my simple preference).  Or visit Felt Like Sharing letter boards on Amazon.

Wake Up! It’s Bodhi Day.

Bodhi Day is December 8, marking the enlightenment of the Buddha.

bodhi. In Sanskrit and Pāli, “awakening,” “enlightenment”.
—Princeton Dictionary of Buddhism

If the mad mind stops, its very stopping is bodhi.
—Śūraṅgama Sutra

Friend, wake up! Why do you go on sleeping?
The night is over— do you want to lose the day
the same way?
—Kabir, version by Robert Bly

Deepak Chopra’s Buddha, Written by Deepak Chopra and Joshua Dysart, Art by Dean Ruben Hyrapiet



My Spotify Listening 2018: WOW or WTF?

Spotify is telling listeners about all the songs they listened to during the past year.

As readers of the blog know, I love music, and Spotify is my streaming music library. I listen many ways, sometimes in focus, sometimes in background.

But seeing the statistics and the profile of the music I listened to gave me pause.

I listened to 8,733 minutes of music.

Spotify says: “Those are minutes you’ll never get back. But then again, why would you want to?”

I listened to 2,696 different songs:

Spotify says: “You listen to non-mainstream artists 50% more than the average Spotify listener—so here’s to being different.”

Too much? Too little? Just right?

A while ago, you would have found me dancing around the kitchen, with songs from Spotify as the soundtrack.

You know what David Crosby sang:

Everybody’s saying music is love
Everybody’s saying it’s love

Put on your colors and run come see
Everybody’s saying that music’s for free
Take off your clothes and lie in the sun
Everybody’s saying that music’s for fun

The Magic Horse: A Sufi Teaching Story

The saying is: “Those who want fish can achieve much through fish, and those who do not know their heart’s desire may first have to hear the story of the wooden horse.”

The Magic Horse is a Sufi teaching story. It can be found in Caravan of Dreams, one of the many collections of Sufi stories by Idries Shah. It can also be found as a separate illustrated children’s book.

It is not a children’s story or a fairy tale, as it has sometimes been categorized. Or not merely those sorts of stories. As Idries Shah writes:

This tale is of great importance because it belongs to an instructional corpus of mystical materials with inner content but – beyond entertainment value – without immediate external significance.

The teaching-story was brought to perfection as a communication instrument many thousands of years ago. The fact that it has not developed greatly since then has caused people obsessed by some theories of our current civilizations to regard it as the product of a less enlightened time. They feel that it must surely be little more than a literary curiosity, something fit for children, the projection, perhaps, of infantile desires, a means of enacting a wish-fulfilment.

Hardly anything could be further from the truth…

[T]he teaching-story cannot be unraveled by ordinary intellectual methods alone. Its action is direct and certain, upon the innermost part of the human being, an action incapable of manifestation by means of the emotional or intellectual apparatus.

The closest that we can come to describing its effect is to say that it connects with a part of the individual which cannot be reached by any other convention, and that it establishes in him or in her a means of communication with a non-verbalized truth beyond the customary limitations of our familiar dimensions.

The Magic Horse is included here in its entirety. It is rather long and complicated, as meaningful stories can be. Some readers won’t bother starting it, others will fall out along the way. Those who stick with it may be rewarded.

The Magic Horse

Once upon a time – not so very long ago – there was a realm in which the people were exceedingly prosperous. All kinds of discoveries had been made by them, in the growing of plants, in harvesting and preserving fruits, and in making objects for sale to other countries; and in many other practical arts.

Their ruler was unusually enlightened, and he encouraged new discoveries and activities, because he knew of their advantages for his people.

He had a son named Hoshyar, who was expert in using strange contrivances, and another – called Tambal – a dreamer, who seemed interested only in things which were of little value in the eyes of the citizens.

From time to time the king, who was named King Mumkin, circulated announcements to this effect:

“Let all those who have notable devices and useful artifacts present them to the palace for examination, so that they may be appropriately rewarded.”

Now there were two men of that country – an ironsmith and a woodworker – who were great rivals in most things, and each delighted in making strange contraptions. When they heard this announcement one day, they agreed to compete for an award, so that their relative merits could be decided once and for all, by their sovereign, and publicly recognized.

Accordingly, the smith worked day and night on a mighty engine, employing a multitude of talented specialists, and surrounding his workshop with high walls so that his devices and methods should not become known.

At the same time the woodworker took his simple tools and went into a forest where, after long and solitary reflection, he prepared his own masterpiece.

News of the rivalry spread, and people thought that the smith must easily win, for his cunning works had been seen before, and while the woodworker’s products were generally admired, they were only of occasional and undramatic use.

When both were ready, the king received them in open court.

The smith produced an immense metallic fish which could, he said, swim in and under the water. It could carry large quantities of freight over the land. It could burrow into the earth; and it could even fly slowly through the air. At first the court found it hard to believe that there could be such a wonder made by man: but when the smith and his assistants demonstrated it, the king was overjoyed and declared the smith among the most honored in the land, with a special rank and the title of “Benefactor of the Community.”

Prince Hoshyar was placed in charge of the making of the wondrous fishes, and the services of this new device became available to all mankind.

Everyone blessed the smith and Hoshyar, as well as the benign and sagacious monarch whom they loved so much.

In the excitement, the self-effacing carpenter had been all but forgotten. Then, one day, someone said: “But what about the contest? Where is the entry of the woodworker? We all know him to be an ingenious man. Perhaps he has produced something useful.”

“How could anything possibly be as useful as the Wondrous Fishes?” asked Hoshyar. And many of the courtiers and the people agreed with him.

But one day the king was bored. He had become accustomed to the novelty of the fishes and the reports of the wonders which they so regularly performed. He said: “Call the woodcarver, for I would now like to see what he has made.”

The simple woodcarver came into the throne-room, carrying a parcel, wrapped in coarse cloth. As the whole court craned forward to see what he had, he took off the covering to reveal – a wooden horse. It was well enough carved, and it had some intricate patterning chiseled into it, as well as being decorated with colored paints but it was only… “A mere plaything!” snapped the king.

“But, Father,” said Prince Tambal, “let us ask the man what it is for…”

“Very well,” said the king, “what is it for?”

“Your majesty,” stammered the woodcarver, “it is a magic horse. It does not look impressive, but it has, as it were, its own inner senses. Unlike the fish, which has to be directed, this horse can interpret the desires of the rider, and carry him wherever he needs to go.”

“Such a stupidity is fit only for Tambal,” murmured the chief minister at the king’s elbow; “it cannot have any real advantage when measured against the wondrous fish.”

The woodcarver was preparing sadly to depart when Tambal said: “Father, let me have the wooden horse.”

“All right,” said the king, “give it to him. Take the woodcarver away and tie him on a tree somewhere, so that he will realize that our time is valuable. Let him contemplate the prosperity which the wondrous fish has brought us, and perhaps after some time we shall let him go free, to practice whatever he may have learned of real industriousness, through true reflection.”

The woodcarver was taken away, and Prince Tambal left the court carrying the magic horse.

Tambal took the horse to his quarters, where he discovered that it had several knobs, cunningly concealed in the carved designs. When these were turned in a certain manner, the horse – together with anyone mounted on it – rose into the air and sped to whatever place was in the mind of the person who moved the knobs.

In this way, day after day, Tambal flew to places which he had never visited before. By this process he came to know a great many things. He took the horse everywhere with him. One day he met Hoshyar, who said to him: “Carrying a wooden horse is a fit occupation for such as you. As for me, I am working for the good of all, toward my heart’s desire!”

Tambal thought: “I wish I knew what was the good of all. And I wish I could know what my heart’s desire is.”

When he was next in his room, he sat upon the horse and thought: “I would like to find my heart’s desire.” At the same time he moved some of the knobs on the horse’s neck. Swifter than light the horse rose into the air and carried the prince a thousand days” ordinary journey away, to a far kingdom, ruled by a magician-king.

The king, whose name was Kahana, had a beautiful daughter called Precious Pearl, Durri-Karima. In order to protect her, he had imprisoned her in a circling palace, which wheeled in the sky, higher than any mortal could reach. As he was approaching the magic land, Tambal saw the glittering palace in the heavens, and alighted there.

The princess and the young horseman met and fell in love.

“My father will never allow us to marry,” she said; “for he had ordained that I become the wife of the son of another magician-king who lives across the cold desert to the east of our homeland. He has vowed that when I am old enough I shall cement the unity of the two kingdoms by this marriage. His will has never been successfully opposed.”

“I will go and try to reason with him,” answered Tambal, as he mounted the magic horse again.

But when he descended into the magic land there were so many new and exciting things to see that he did not hurry to the palace. When at length he approached it, the drum at the gate, indicating the absence of the king, was already beating.

“He has gone to visit his daughter in the Whirling Palace,” said a passerby when Tambal asked him when the king might be back; “and he usually spends several hours at a time with her.”

Tambal went to a quiet place where he willed the horse to carry him to the king’s own apartment. “I will approach him at his own home,” he thought to himself, “for if I go to the Whirling Palace without his permission he may be angry.”

He hid behind some curtains in the palace when he got there, and lay down to sleep.

Meanwhile, unable to keep her secret, the princess Precious Pearl had confessed to her father that she had been visited by a man on a flying horse, and that he wanted to marry her. Kahana was furious.

He placed sentries around the Whirling Palace, and returned to his own apartment to think things over. As soon as he entered his bedchamber, one of the tongueless magic servants guarding it pointed to the wooden horse lying in a corner. “Aha!” exclaimed the magician-king. “Now I have him. Let us look at this horse and see what manner of thing it may be.”

As he and his servants were examining the horse, the prince managed to slip away and conceal himself in another part of the palace.

After twisting the knobs, tapping the horse and generally trying to understand how it worked, the king was baffled. “Take that thing away. It has no virtue now, even if it ever had any,” he said. “It is just a trifle, fit for children.”

The horse was put into a store-cupboard.

Now King Kahana thought that he should make arrangements for his daughter’s wedding without delay, in case the fugitive might have other powers or devices with which to try to win her. So he called her to his own palace and sent a message to the other magician-king, asking that the prince who was to marry her be sent to claim his bride.

Meanwhile Prince Tambal, escaping from the palace by night when some guards were asleep, decided that he must try to return to his own country. His quest for his heart’s desire now seemed almost hopeless. “If it takes me the rest of my life,” he said to himself, “I shall come back here, bringing troops to take this kingdom by force. I can only do that by convincing my father that I must have his help to attain my heart’s desire.”

So saying, he set off. Never was a man worse equipped for such a journey. An alien, traveling on foot, without any kind of provisions, facing pitiless heat and freezing nights interspersed with sandstorms, he soon became hopelessly lost in the desert.

Now, in his delirium, Tambal started to blame himself, his father, the magician-king, the woodcarver, even the princess and the magic horse itself. Sometimes he thought he saw water ahead of him, sometimes fair cities, sometimes he felt elated, sometimes incomparably sad. Sometimes he even thought that he had companions in his difficulties, but when he shook himself he saw that he was quite alone.

He seemed to have been traveling for an eternity. Suddenly, when he had given up and started again several times, he saw something directly in front of him. It looked like a mirage: a garden, full of delicious fruits, sparkling and almost, as it were, beckoning him toward them.

Tambal did not at first take much notice of this, but soon, as he walked, he saw that he was indeed passing through such a garden. He gathered some of the fruits and tasted them cautiously. They were delicious. They took away his fear as well as his hunger and thirst. When he was full, he lay down in the shade of a huge and welcoming tree and fell asleep.

When he woke up he felt well enough, but something seemed to be wrong. Running to a nearby pool, he looked at his reflection in the water. Staring up at him was a horrible apparition. It had a long beard, curved horns, ears a foot long. He looked down at his hands. They were covered with fur.

Was it a nightmare? He tried to wake himself, but all the pinching and pummeling had no effect. Now, almost bereft of his senses, beside himself with fear and horror, thrown into transports of screaming, racked with sobs, he threw himself on the ground. “Whether I live or die,” he thought, “these accursed fruits have finally ruined me. Even with the greatest army of all time, conquest will not help me. Nobody would marry me now, much less the Princess Precious Pearl. And I cannot imagine the beast who would not be terrified at the sight of me – let alone my heart’s desire!” And he lost consciousness.

When he woke again, it was dark and a light was approaching through the groves of silent trees. Fear and hope struggled in him. As it came closer he saw that the light was from a lamp enclosed in a brilliant starlike shape, and it was carried by a bearded man, who walked in the pool of brightness which it cast around.

The man saw him. “My son,” he said, “you have been affected by the influences of this place. If I had not come past, you would have remained just another beast of this enchanted grove, for there are many more like you. But I can help you.”

Tambal wondered whether this man was a fiend in disguise, perhaps the very owner of the evil trees. But, as his sense came back he realized that he had nothing to lose.

“Help me, father,” he said to the sage.

“If you really want your heart’s desire,” said the other man, “you have only to fix this desire firmly in your mind, not thinking of the fruit. You then have to take up some of the dried fruits, not the fresh, delicious ones, lying at the foot of all these trees, and eat them. Then follow your destiny.”

So saying, he walked away.

While the sage’s light disappeared into the darkness, Tambal saw that the moon was rising, and in its rays he could see that there were indeed piles of dried fruits under every tree.

He gathered some and ate them as quickly as he could.

Slowly, as he watched, the fur disappeared from his hands and arms. The horns first shrank, then vanished. The beard fell away. He was himself again. By now it was first light, and in the dawn he heard the tinkling of camel bells. A procession was coming through the enchanted forest.

It was undoubtedly the cavalcade of some important personage, on a long journey. As Tambal stood there, two outriders detached themselves from the glittering escort and galloped up to him.

“In the name of the Prince, our lord, we demand some of your fruit. His celestial Highness is thirsty and has indicated a desire for some of these strange apricots,” said an officer.

Still Tambal did not move, such was his numbed condition after his recent experiences. Now the Prince himself came down from his palanquin and said:

“I am Jadugarzada, son of the magician-king of the East. Here is a bag of gold, oaf. I am having some of your fruit, because I am desirous of it. I am in a hurry, hastening to claim my bride, Princess Precious Pearl, daughter of Kahana, magician-king of the West.”

At these words Tambal’s heart turned over. But, realizing that this must be his destiny which the sage had told him to follow, he offered the Prince as much of the fruit as he could eat.

When he had eaten, the Prince began to fall asleep. As he did so, horns, fur and huge ears started to grow out of him. The soldiers shook him, and the Prince began to behave in a strange way. He claimed that he was normal, and that they were deformed.

The councillors who accompanied the party restrained the prince and held a hurried debate. Tambal claimed that all would have been well if the prince had not fallen asleep. Eventually it was decided to put Tambal in the palanquin to play the part of the prince. The horned Jadugarzada was tied to a horse with a veil thrown over his face, disguised as a serving-woman.

“He may recover his wits eventually,” said the councillors, “and in any case he is still our Prince. Tambal shall marry the girl. Then, as soon as possible, we shall carry them all back to our own country for our king to unravel the problem.”

Tambal, biding his time and following his destiny, agreed to his own part in the masquerade.

When the party arrived at the capital of the West, the king himself came out to meet them. Tambal was taken to the princess as her bridegroom, and she was so astonished that she nearly fainted. But Tambal managed to whisper to her rapidly what had happened, and they were duly married, amid great jubilations.

In the meantime the horned prince had half recovered his wits, but not his human form, and his escort still kept him under cover. As soon as the feasting was over, the chief of the horned prince’s party (who had been keeping Tambal and the princess under a very close watch) presented himself to the court. He said: “O just and glorious monarch, fountain of wisdom; the time has now come, according to the pronouncements of our astrologers and soothsayers, to conduct the bridal pair back to our own land, so that they may be established in their new home under the most felicitous circumstances and influences.”

The princess turned to Tambal in alarm, for she knew that Jadugarzada would claim her as soon as they were on the open road – and make an end of Tambal into the bargain.

Tambal whispered to her, “Fear nothing. We must act as best we can, following our destiny. Agree to go, making only the condition that you will not travel without the wooden horse.”

At first the magician-king was annoyed at this foible of his daughter’s. He realized that she wanted the horse because it was connected with her first suitor. But the chief minister of the horned prince said: “Majesty, I cannot see that this is anything worse than a whim for a toy, such as any young girl might have. I hope that you will allow her to have her plaything, so that we may make haste homeward.”

So the magician-king agreed, and soon the cavalcade was resplendently on its way. After the king’s escort had withdrawn, and before the time of the first night-halt, the hideous Jadugarzada threw off his veil and cried out to Tambal:

“Miserable author of my misfortunes! I now intend to bind you hand and foot, to take you captive back to my own land. If, when we arrive there, you do not tell me how to remove this enchantment, I will have you flayed alive, inch by inch. Now, give me the Princess Precious Pearl.”

Tambal ran to the princess and, in front of the astonished party, rose into the sky on the wooden horse with Precious Pearl mounted behind him.

Within a matter of minutes the couple alighted at the palace of King Mumkin. They related everything that had happened to them, and the king was almost overcome with delight at their safe return. He at once gave orders for the hapless woodcarver to be released, recompensed and applauded by the entire populace.

When the king was gathered to his fathers, Princess Precious Pearl and Prince Tambal succeeded him. Prince Hoshyar was quite pleased, too, because he was still entranced by the wondrous fish.

“I am glad for your own sakes, if you are happy,” he used to say to them, “but, for my own part, nothing is more rewarding than concerning myself with the wondrous fish.”

And this history is the origin of a strange saying current among the people of that land, yet whose beginnings have now been forgotten. The saying is: “Those who want fish can achieve much through fish, and those who do not know their heart’s desire may first have to hear the story of the wooden horse.”

You’ve Got to Love Michelle Obama (Eleanor Roosevelt Edition)

Washington Post:

Michelle Obama swore when criticizing Sheryl Sandberg’s ‘lean in’ mantra, and the Internet lost it

In front of a sold-out crowd at the Barclays Center in Brooklyn on Saturday night, Michelle Obama looked like a woman who had it all. The Ivy League-educated former first lady, mother of two and now best-selling author was met with thunderous applause as she walked onstage to promote her recently released memoir, “Becoming.”

But in a brief moment of uninhibited candor — complete with some spontaneous swearing — that set the Internet ablaze, Obama said the belief that women can always “have it all” is “a lie” and voiced an unexpectedly frank rebuke of Facebook Chief Operating Officer Sheryl Sandberg’s controversial “lean in” mantra.

“It’s not always enough to lean in because that s— doesn’t work all the time,” she reportedly said.

Talk about setting folks straight with disarming charm. This is what so many didn’t understand and still don’t: If the great Eleanor Roosevelt was reincarnated, she would not come back as Hillary Clinton. She would come back as a brilliant and incandescent black former First Lady, with a pitch-perfect sense of public balance. As much as some of us enjoy seeing Barack, wishing that he was still in the White House, we warmly welcome Michelle into our lives too.

The Hanukkah Guest, Told by Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav

Artist: Xul Solar (1887-1963)

Hanukkah begins on the evening of Sunday, December 2, and continues for eight nights and days. One candle is lit on the first night, with a candle added each night. Light increases.

Every story has something hidden. What is concealed is the hidden light.
Reb Nachman of Bratslav (1772-1810)

The Hanukkah Guest

On the first night of Hanukkah, a poor man, who lived alone, chanted the Hanukkah blessings and lit the Hanukkah candle. He gazed at the candle for a long moment, and then there was a knock at the door. When he opened it, he saw a stranger standing there, and he invited him in. They began to discuss things, as people do, and the guest asked the man how he supported himself. The man explained that he spent his days studying Torah, and that he was supported by others, and didn’t have an income of his own. After a while, their talk became more intimate, and the man told the guest that he was striving to reach a higher level of holiness. The guest suggested that they study Torah together. And when the man discovered how profound were the guest’s insights, he started to wonder if he were a human being or an angel. He began to address the guest as Rabbi.

Time flew by, and the man felt as if he had learned more in that one night than in all the other years he had studied. All at once the guest said that he had to leave, and the man asked him how far he should accompany him. The guest replied, “Past the door.” So the man followed the guest out the door, and the guest embraced him, as if to say goodbye, but then he began to fly, with the man clinging to him. The man was shivering, and when the guest saw this, he gave him a garment that not only warmed him, but, as soon as he put it on, he found himself back in his house, seated at the table, enjoying a fine meal. At the same time, he saw that he was flying.

The guest brought him to a valley between two mountains. There he found a book with illustrations of vessels, and inside the vessels there were letters. And the man understood that with those letters it was possible to create new vessels. The man was taken with a powerful desire to study that book. But when he looked up for an instant, he found himself back in his house. Then, when he turned back to the book, he found himself in the valley once more. The guest, whoever he was, was gone. The man, feeling confident, decided to climb up the mountain. When he reached the summit, he saw a golden tree with golden branches. From the branches hung vessels like those illustrated in the book. The man wanted to pick one of those vessels, as one picks fruit from a tree, but as soon as he reached for one, he found himself back in his house, and there was a knock at the door. He opened the door and saw it was the mysterious guest, and he pleaded with him to come in. The guest replied, “I don’t have time, for I am on my way to you.” The man was perplexed, and asked the guest to explain what he meant. The guest said, “When you agreed to accompany me beyond the door, I gave your neshamah, your highest earthly soul, a garment from Paradise. Now, when you bring your thoughts to Paradise, you are there, on that holy mountain. But when your thoughts return to this world, you will find yourself here once again.” And that is how it remained for the rest of that man’s life, and the story has still not come to an end.

A Palace of Pearls: The Stories of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav by Howard Schwartz