High Time

Let the Wheel Turn

The fourth dimension is discernable. It has fascinated philosophers and poets throughout our recorded time on planet Earth. Today, Donald John Trump became the 47^th president of the barely United States of America. Where the event was noticed, opinions abounded.

Now enjoying the rich backwater of my life as an unrepentant rebel, I just drifted away from the din and thrashing of vainglorious and often self-serving topical remarks about The Big Moment. I sought and found comfort in sentiments about time I admire. They follow.

The Challenge of Ruling

King Solomon styled himself the “son of David, king in Jerusalem.” The guy was quite a poet. In my tween years, I blushed my way through his Song of Songs. In 2025 AD, I calculate I am now about the age he was when, around 930 BC, he penned Lines 1-8 of the third chapter of Ecclesiastes.

Credit. Pinterest

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to throw away;

A time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace" (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8).

I submit we are living in a Time of All Seasons. Every line of the poem is true today. And it is Donald John Trump’s sworn duty to handle each enumerated circumstance to the benefit of We the People.

Rich men are not necessarily wise. Wise men are rarely rich. King Solomon was both very rich and famously wise. We are entering another Gilded Age. There is no reason the Billionaire Boys Club should not contain one or more rich Wise Man of essentially sound character willing to effect good results when given access to the immense power of the administrative branch of our government.

Let the wheel of time turn.

On the Cusp of Revolution

In 1859, Charles Dickens fed his family with the proceeds from an historical novel entitled The Tale of Two Cities. He set the story against the conditions that led up to the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror. The book opens with one of the most glorious sentences in English prose.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

Credit. Wired

1789 in France and 2005 in America share an eerie level of inequity and discontent. In the same space his MAGA followers stormed and defiled 4 years ago, today Donald John Trump vowed “America’s decline is over.”

Credit. Le Monde

Then he decided not to blow off his own head to affect the vow on the spot. Instead, he promised to cause a unity of national sentiment he has spent over a decade successfully undermining to his own personal advantage. He has promised to bring about his idea of peace and justice using armed troops against those resisting his view of “law and order.”

Golly, what could go right?

The cheek of the guy is just stunning. He has created a tinderbox of insecurity and resentment. That ain’t the flame of liberty he’s getting ready to throw on the kindling of greed, corruption, and callous cruelty with which he justifies what he promises is a limited term of dictatorial conduct.

Characterizing those persons he called to the hall of Congress to challenge the results of Election 2020 “patriots” and pardoning the criminal actions of 1500 of them on Day One of his second term in office is incredibly offensive. Robert Hubbell wrote “By pardoning them, Trump has sent the unmistakable message that violence intended to promote his political interest is acceptable and will be pardoned.” (Today’s Edition Newsletter, 01 Jan 25).

Well, DJT can call himself and fellow conspirators “patriots.” No amount of doublethink or sane washing can justify his immediate abuse of power as other than a betrayal of the oath of office just taken. No historical revisionism will accept his actions as anything less than traitorous to the letter and spirit of those portions of the law of the land presently unmolested by the Roberts Court.

I suggest 20 Jan 21 was the eye of a political storm that cannot help but test and reconfigure We the People.

Let the wheel of time turn.

Fair Warning

In 1964, a skinny white guy with a raspy voice grated his way through one of his best songs. Bob Dylan is one great wordsmith.

Credit. Medium

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you is worth savin'
And you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'

Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who
That it's namin'
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin'

Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
The battle outside ragin'
Will soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is rapidly agin'
Please get out of the new one
If you can't lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin'

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is rapidly fadin'
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'

And the times did change. Whatever in this wide world makes Donald John Trump and his Court of Cronies believe that civil rights hard won in the past 80 years will be easily surrendered by those benefiting or forgotten by those who fought to cause them? Sons and daughters rebelling yesterday are senior now. They are battle tested. They are not happy to see old oppressions rise from well-deserved graves to smirk at them and their children today.

The guy is right to anticipate and fear spontaneous resistance to Project 2025. He is ill-advised to bring force to bear against non-violent persons protected by First Amendment rights.

Let the wheel of time turn.

Time After Time

Strong generals have a habit of becoming philosophic. Many carry a tangible token of their guiding star with them—a poem, a photograph, a ring. Fighters bellow taunts and sing tributes. Scribes, journalists, artists, and photographers bear witness to times, terms, and results of conflict.

Resistance is not always futile. By its nature, it is introspective. The longer the time of trial, the richer the harvest of musings and declarations. Here are two of my favorites from the last Great Resistance.

In 1970, The Beatles sang Paul McCartney’s ballad about a long and winding road leading to an inevitable destination. It is a love song. He likely meant it for a woman. I always hear it as a dedication to the fight for equity. A request for success.

The long and winding road
That leads to your door
Will never disappear
I've seen that road before
It always leads me here
Leads me to your door

The wild and windy night
That the rain washed away
Has left a pool of tears
Crying for the day
Why leave me standing here?
Let me know the way

Many times I've been alone
And many times I've cried
Anyway, you'll never know
The many ways I've tried…

Don't leave me waiting here
Lead me to your door

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

In 1973, Seals & Crofts wrote and sang a tribute to transition. Another love song to a person my ear hears as a quiet battle hymn. Select lyrics from “We May Never Pass This Way (Again)” follow.

Life
So they say
Is but a game and they'd let it slip away…
We must gather all our courage…
Cast away our fears
And all the years will come and go
Take us up
Always up

We may never pass this way again

But we indeed must pass that way again in our time. In the name of all we hold true and decent. For ourselves, for our family, for our friends, for enemies of good character, for our country, for our planet, for the form and character of our future.

I submit the human spirit seeks safety and comfort but resists bondage.

Donald John Trump has created and ascended a throne. The mill of high office tends to grind exceedingly fine. Let the wheel of time and circumstance turn.

And, as to Project 2025 and its ugly implementation?

Do not just survive.

Resist. Let your purse and your vote be your shield and your armor.

Prevail.