#7 A Dharma Bum Dissolves into the Boulder Aether

John Cato in 1986

I’ve been posting political screeds for the last month, as the prospects for the collapse of American democracy came into view, but somehow it continues to breathe and remains above ground.  If you attended to those discussions, I focused them on how language gets employed to re-create reality in the image power-mongers want you to see and operate through.

But that’s an unhappy use of language, and I do have a lot to say and appreciate about literary craft, and many other tangential matters.  So, with holiday spirit, we’ll perform a final salute to someone who resolutely refused to conform to consensus reality, forged his own language of consciousness, and lived it out accordingly.

John Cato, son of a NYC cop, acclaimed by those who knew him as an indelible dharma bum, living as a long-time bicycling haunter of Boulder streets, tenting his way through decades of Boulder backyards, passed away this year at the age of 75.  A secretary to Ayn Rand (hard to wrap your mind around that) for ten years, he eventually abandoned her in disgust to embrace the Beats, and that brought him to Boulder and into the Naropa Poetics mandala.  He even got his face in the Boulder Camera (the local paper) during the Jack Kerouac Conference (1982) in…a crewcut.

I can attest personally to his deep disdain for Ayn Rand and the use rightwing intellectuals (remember when they still existed?) put her in service of Republican dogma.  But as I’ve said to everyone about that, while she would no doubt have condemned his lifestyle, yet, what always stood out about him to me was his unwavering will to choose his own way in life.  Those were his choices.  While maybe not Rand’s idea of the triumph of the Ego, he nevertheless lived out his life in idiosyncratic self-determination.

When I read Joe Richey’s posthumous poem charting some of the distinctive angles of his character, I thought it captured something of a presence now gone from Boulder, doing somersaults in the aether.  As Joe said to me, it’s the end of an era.

Abecedario upon recalling John Cato’s outdoorsmanship and tips for healthy living

Acquire less.

Beware of toilet plumes after flushing.

Can’t sleep? Then don’t.

Dance, dancer, all that you can.

Eat less.

Find shelter early.

Go outside.

Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate. (1)

It’s worse than it looks.

Joe, it’s worse than it looks.

Keep the lids of your toilets closed, or you’ll lose all your money. (2)

Miasmas – avoid them.

Nap in peace.

Oven fans will clear the air from one-hit smoke offerings.

Pedal slow and steady.

Quieter the better sometimes.

Repeat: No, I’m fine. Thank you.

Smell better than you look with Living Well essential oils.

Try not to have curses thrown at you.

UFO research beneath the stars.

Vlachos, Uncle John, not everybody needs one, but now and again.

Wake up by noon. (3)  

X marks where the money is buried.

Yoga mats and cardboard will keep you off the ground.

Zyflamend. Look it up.

                                                                        –Joe Richey

                                                                          Boulder, Colorado

(1) Cato’s spit test: Lean forward and drool toward the ground. If your spit is stringy and takes a while to drip down, get thee to the water fountain.

(2) from the Chinese

(3) Sleep with toes pointed toward where the sun will be at noon in the sky.