One tiny grain of sand,
Came from all this.
The mountain, the sea, the middle:
Between you and me.
And the result of it all is but a single
Insignificant
Grain of Sand.
Hold it to the light,
to examine the mystery
That is
A Single Grain of Sand.
Think of the perspective of that miniscule mineral
The realization that it is but the smallest fraction of this everything.
And the realization that this everything has:
Through time & heat.
Thousands of years of churning beneath the seas.
Collaborated to create:
That tiny fraction we examine so callously.
Just a single grain of sand.
Among the billions that litter the shores.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Monday, December 14, 2009
Only the Lonely...
The environment that we surround ourselves in, if you live in the City or Suburbs, is all at once a dazzling, fast paced, unforgiving, and enchanting experience that requires either strength or the appearance of strength in small minded convictions. In each case the amount of energy we use to function leaves little else in our internal reservoirs for the subtle pleasures of self-exploration. The moments we do have free are used in pursuit of a leisure that itself is nothing more than distraction. Whether that distraction takes us to a moving picture or a group of friends with drinks makes little difference. The end result is to distract ourselves from ourselves. In movies, games, television and other similar forms of entertainment we are passively taken along. Even in such films that we deem "thought provoking" we are still little more than a vessel for the ideas and notions of a writer, director, and actor. During the film and after we are engaging in material that is secondary from ourselves. In the case of friends we find ourselves actively distracted. Whatever forms of conversation we employ, and there are degrees of depth to each conversation we maintain, we are merely using the forum of words to express and escape the issues that plague us. Perhaps we partake in gossip, using others follies & foibles to detract from our own. Perhaps we indulge in self-evaluation, expressing our inner selves to others as best we can. While it seems obvious that the first act is mere distracting filler, the second action seems noble, poetic, romantic, even self-aware. However the danger is in actually believing that when we give voice to our "inner selves" that we actually are. To truly honestly express oneself, without fancy words or impressive turns of phrases, is a difficult and laborious task. It requires an unflinchingly honest knowledge of our motives, desires, prejudices, and idiosyncrasies that can only be gained when we are given the time to sit silently with ourselves and examine closely our actions, words, ideas, and decisions with a mind willing to accept that : 1. "I" is not important, 2. It is more often "wrong" than "right", 3. It is more subtle, beautiful, and powerful than we believe it is.
To say that "I" is not important is extremely difficult. It requires the detached observation of our ego, taking us to a place in which we can recognize that all the unique characteristics that embody who we present to the world is not that important. Our ego fights this notion. It wants to be the center of our personal world view. It is devious and manipulative in pursuit of this goal, preying on our insecurities, exaggerating our personal accomplishments, and selling us illusions of grandiose. Falling into any of these feelings is very easy and very dangerous. To do so distorts the needs, the voices, the joy, and the pain of others. It allows us to hide behind a stunted perspective that fails to empathize with the world we inhabit. This is not to say we can banish or subjugate our ego in any way. We should not. Even if we could do this it would be dangerous. Our egos, which helps us seek a unique perspective or embody an original persona, help create the diverse beautiful world in which we operate. What is needed is to be aware of our ego, of the tricks it plays upon us, so that we can be open and free to experience the full scope those beautiful diverse people we love, hate, and are indifferent towards. We must live this "I", be aware of it, give it voice, but make sure that the voice it is given does not drown out the voices of "us"
It is a perplexing notion for our minds to admit that it is more often wrong than right. We are raised to be confident (As a society: i.e., America is great, buying is good, you should drink coffee...) to believe in the fine lines of right and wrong, to trust that we are "right" -- as individuals and as a collective social unit. Only in every instance we trust faulty perceptions, notions not our own, media constructions of beauty, strength, passion, and so on. This is important to recognize because we trust so blindly the structures of religion, nationalism, capitalism, and all other sorts of -isms and thought groups. Rarely do we, and even rarer are we needed to, stand alone. But as we come to stand alone, to consider the long progression of human thought, we can begin to see that often we are "wrong": as individuals and as a collective. As we begin to recognize, and then truly understand, that we as humans don't know nearly as much as we thought we can then even begin to let go of these notions of "right" and "wrong". Perhaps the only reason it is important to recognize that we are "wrong" is that the notion of being "right" is so ingrained into our cultural lifestyle that we must, to help us come back to balance, go in the opposite extreme. Doing so allows us, as an individual and with hope as a society, to no longer blindly accept the parameters of the world we can see, but allow for a greater more subtle more wild world than we know. By accepting that we are "wrong" we combat the doctrine of "right", and allow for the world to simply exist and we observe it as best we can without boundaries limiting what we can intake.
That our minds are more subtle and beautiful than we give them credit for is true when we allow ourselves to experience empathy. We have such a long cellular history, such a long collective memory that in narrowing ourselves to function in the world of modern marvels we leave behind the expansive richness that our mind is capable of calling forth. It is in empathy that we can begin to understand this. Empathy is our ability to truly understand, feel, and experience the world that another man or woman is living. By allowing our minds to open up and accept the troubles and joys of another we can see the shared desires and needs of our world. We can begin to understand the connection that we have with the entire living, breathing place we currently inhabit. As we do this we can feel our mind grow stronger, larger, and more powerful than if we were to close it off to the tribulations and successes of others. With empathy in our (metaphorical) hearts we can allow our minds to continue to grow and learn and discover in a way that would unavailable to us if we were only involved in our own successes and tribulations.
Nothing that is written here is a blueprint. Each one of us must be able to come into redefining our world in our own way. The three ideas or tasks are merely one way that this author has found to be successful in helping him expand his sense of empathy and continue to discover the pleasures of being alive. They may not work for you, they are suggestions. Nor could a methodology for how to accomplish those three things ever be created. We must seek and discover our own path, hoping always that it leads us to become better servants of this world we borrow time on, better communicators, better at understanding the beautiful people we share this wild teeming earth with. What is important though is that we never be discouraged by failing but encouraged by the attempt. That we continue to ask for, and give ourselves, forgiveness. That we love ourselves and others with a warm heart that is full of generosity. That we continue to share, discover, and laugh.
To say that "I" is not important is extremely difficult. It requires the detached observation of our ego, taking us to a place in which we can recognize that all the unique characteristics that embody who we present to the world is not that important. Our ego fights this notion. It wants to be the center of our personal world view. It is devious and manipulative in pursuit of this goal, preying on our insecurities, exaggerating our personal accomplishments, and selling us illusions of grandiose. Falling into any of these feelings is very easy and very dangerous. To do so distorts the needs, the voices, the joy, and the pain of others. It allows us to hide behind a stunted perspective that fails to empathize with the world we inhabit. This is not to say we can banish or subjugate our ego in any way. We should not. Even if we could do this it would be dangerous. Our egos, which helps us seek a unique perspective or embody an original persona, help create the diverse beautiful world in which we operate. What is needed is to be aware of our ego, of the tricks it plays upon us, so that we can be open and free to experience the full scope those beautiful diverse people we love, hate, and are indifferent towards. We must live this "I", be aware of it, give it voice, but make sure that the voice it is given does not drown out the voices of "us"
It is a perplexing notion for our minds to admit that it is more often wrong than right. We are raised to be confident (As a society: i.e., America is great, buying is good, you should drink coffee...) to believe in the fine lines of right and wrong, to trust that we are "right" -- as individuals and as a collective social unit. Only in every instance we trust faulty perceptions, notions not our own, media constructions of beauty, strength, passion, and so on. This is important to recognize because we trust so blindly the structures of religion, nationalism, capitalism, and all other sorts of -isms and thought groups. Rarely do we, and even rarer are we needed to, stand alone. But as we come to stand alone, to consider the long progression of human thought, we can begin to see that often we are "wrong": as individuals and as a collective. As we begin to recognize, and then truly understand, that we as humans don't know nearly as much as we thought we can then even begin to let go of these notions of "right" and "wrong". Perhaps the only reason it is important to recognize that we are "wrong" is that the notion of being "right" is so ingrained into our cultural lifestyle that we must, to help us come back to balance, go in the opposite extreme. Doing so allows us, as an individual and with hope as a society, to no longer blindly accept the parameters of the world we can see, but allow for a greater more subtle more wild world than we know. By accepting that we are "wrong" we combat the doctrine of "right", and allow for the world to simply exist and we observe it as best we can without boundaries limiting what we can intake.
That our minds are more subtle and beautiful than we give them credit for is true when we allow ourselves to experience empathy. We have such a long cellular history, such a long collective memory that in narrowing ourselves to function in the world of modern marvels we leave behind the expansive richness that our mind is capable of calling forth. It is in empathy that we can begin to understand this. Empathy is our ability to truly understand, feel, and experience the world that another man or woman is living. By allowing our minds to open up and accept the troubles and joys of another we can see the shared desires and needs of our world. We can begin to understand the connection that we have with the entire living, breathing place we currently inhabit. As we do this we can feel our mind grow stronger, larger, and more powerful than if we were to close it off to the tribulations and successes of others. With empathy in our (metaphorical) hearts we can allow our minds to continue to grow and learn and discover in a way that would unavailable to us if we were only involved in our own successes and tribulations.
Nothing that is written here is a blueprint. Each one of us must be able to come into redefining our world in our own way. The three ideas or tasks are merely one way that this author has found to be successful in helping him expand his sense of empathy and continue to discover the pleasures of being alive. They may not work for you, they are suggestions. Nor could a methodology for how to accomplish those three things ever be created. We must seek and discover our own path, hoping always that it leads us to become better servants of this world we borrow time on, better communicators, better at understanding the beautiful people we share this wild teeming earth with. What is important though is that we never be discouraged by failing but encouraged by the attempt. That we continue to ask for, and give ourselves, forgiveness. That we love ourselves and others with a warm heart that is full of generosity. That we continue to share, discover, and laugh.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
A Wonder
What we have,
Until its gone:
A wonder that we never realize
until its gone.
The wonders of all we are.
We are wonders.
To be wondered about. To wonder ourselves.
As we wander about.
This way and That.
Here and back.
From New Delhi to New Amsterdam.
So consider it thus:
That we can consider at all
Whether to butter our toast or eat not at all…
Breakfast in bed, noon time lunch, a dinner with friends, a late night munch.
Such possibility in just how we eat.
And that we can even eat all.
On a grander scheme we can consider quite more,
than the individual meals of our own.
The amount of growth needed to maintain—
this balancing act we perform in the stars.
Of cycles of water, or cycles of soil,
Of cycles of rocks, cycles galore.
Or perhaps just a cyclist is all.
A lonely figure pedaling alone.
Striving, struggling, straining… to move along.
Can you picture that figure?
Chuggin’ along…
So so very alone?
Not anymore when you picture that figure and 6 billion more.
Mouths to feed, people to clothe, more more more.
Crying little ones coming all the time.
And they bring so much light from were it was they’ve come.
But they need so much life, just to survive at all.
To even think of love in this mess
is a wonder that can not be missed.
Try it with the doubt, you’ll see it doesn’t mix;
What one needs is faith, its opposite twin.
Of doubles we speak, then remember to meet:
With Triumph and Disaster.
And please,
treat both those impostors the same.
Hold your head high when you can walk on your own —
And never be ashamed to need help to walk at all.
Then let us wonder what these little lessons mean at all.
At the tiniest fraction?
Nothing at all.
At the largest part?
Nada, Nothing, Zilch. Z-ro.
It is somewhere in the middle that we can even begin to notice these moments at all.
Like a notice on some strangers door
Or a letter to love, thanking it for:
Existing at all.
And that is the wonder, the wonder of all:
That we exist to wonder at all.
Until its gone:
A wonder that we never realize
until its gone.
The wonders of all we are.
We are wonders.
To be wondered about. To wonder ourselves.
As we wander about.
This way and That.
Here and back.
From New Delhi to New Amsterdam.
So consider it thus:
That we can consider at all
Whether to butter our toast or eat not at all…
Breakfast in bed, noon time lunch, a dinner with friends, a late night munch.
Such possibility in just how we eat.
And that we can even eat all.
On a grander scheme we can consider quite more,
than the individual meals of our own.
The amount of growth needed to maintain—
this balancing act we perform in the stars.
Of cycles of water, or cycles of soil,
Of cycles of rocks, cycles galore.
Or perhaps just a cyclist is all.
A lonely figure pedaling alone.
Striving, struggling, straining… to move along.
Can you picture that figure?
Chuggin’ along…
So so very alone?
Not anymore when you picture that figure and 6 billion more.
Mouths to feed, people to clothe, more more more.
Crying little ones coming all the time.
And they bring so much light from were it was they’ve come.
But they need so much life, just to survive at all.
To even think of love in this mess
is a wonder that can not be missed.
Try it with the doubt, you’ll see it doesn’t mix;
What one needs is faith, its opposite twin.
Of doubles we speak, then remember to meet:
With Triumph and Disaster.
And please,
treat both those impostors the same.
Hold your head high when you can walk on your own —
And never be ashamed to need help to walk at all.
Then let us wonder what these little lessons mean at all.
At the tiniest fraction?
Nothing at all.
At the largest part?
Nada, Nothing, Zilch. Z-ro.
It is somewhere in the middle that we can even begin to notice these moments at all.
Like a notice on some strangers door
Or a letter to love, thanking it for:
Existing at all.
And that is the wonder, the wonder of all:
That we exist to wonder at all.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
And The Leaves That are Green...
Like a lightning flash it's gone
Never to return no more
Like your lover that’s left through that door.
As Dylan sings along
To the soundtrack of all that is going wrong.
So you think to yourself:
There are days, there are hours, when love leaves you
Without a word to bid you adieu.
Through the front door, into the cold.
Down the steps, you watch her go.
Fading into the night, like a poem you once meant to write...
Ho Ho.
Some days you’ll be happy. Others you’ll be saddened.
But as an equation, the summation is not that different
Than those days before she came.
Never to return no more
Like your lover that’s left through that door.
As Dylan sings along
To the soundtrack of all that is going wrong.
So you think to yourself:
There are days, there are hours, when love leaves you
Without a word to bid you adieu.
Through the front door, into the cold.
Down the steps, you watch her go.
Fading into the night, like a poem you once meant to write...
Ho Ho.
Some days you’ll be happy. Others you’ll be saddened.
But as an equation, the summation is not that different
Than those days before she came.
The Joy of Song (Or, Why we Sing)
Tumbling…
I’m tumbling upwards.
Into the arms
Of
Blackened Stars.
Chaos mounting
In the cool sliver
Of life’s empty embrace
Visions of passing worlds
Ice and Fire playing in a field of heather
Billions of Voices crying out:
Alone Alone Alone
Like the solitary figure of
The UN-breakable redwood
Breaking. Crashing. Tumbling
No more No more No more
And I am alone no more
Upon this residence of Earth
Connected by:
The bustling market place
The sounds and scents of the farmers work
Ripe bursting ovaries of the earth
The sweet juice of the strawberry
Trickling down a child’s face
Like a stream that rushes headlong to the sea
that vast endless ether
In which the whale sings
For no other reason than to sing.
I’m tumbling upwards.
Into the arms
Of
Blackened Stars.
Chaos mounting
In the cool sliver
Of life’s empty embrace
Visions of passing worlds
Ice and Fire playing in a field of heather
Billions of Voices crying out:
Alone Alone Alone
Like the solitary figure of
The UN-breakable redwood
Breaking. Crashing. Tumbling
No more No more No more
And I am alone no more
Upon this residence of Earth
Connected by:
The bustling market place
The sounds and scents of the farmers work
Ripe bursting ovaries of the earth
The sweet juice of the strawberry
Trickling down a child’s face
Like a stream that rushes headlong to the sea
that vast endless ether
In which the whale sings
For no other reason than to sing.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
A Mile in Death's Shoes
I asked you once what it is you saw.
The fields of war, empty rooms of a hospital floor
Perhaps the crumbled forms that are the victims of your work.
Did you attend the funerals of those you took?
Or perhaps you sent a messenger to overlook the last of your deed.
You responded to me that what you see is more than just these cursory scenes.
That I have failed to consider your vast and endless hospitality.
The souls you accept, the willingness of your mind to not be prejudiced.
You offered me the chance to see as you see, to be as you be, to live once as death so that life could be clear.
I accepted the offer, with more than a little hesitancy.
I arrived on the day we had pre-arranged.
I had no idea what I could expect.
I remember it all, so clear as today.
The hands of the sick, the laughter of the free.
The healthy ones, the crying ones, the lonely ones, the prideful ones, the smallest ones;
All freed by a touch, a last gasp, a dying wish that the earth may yet fulfill.
And I saw the world, just as you see:
The way it is, the way it ought to be, the cost of living, the debt we all come to pay.
And
Through the eyes of Death I have learned:
The glory of Living.
And, in Living I have learned:
To let things die
By letting that which must pass
Die
I have found the limitless of my Love
And, in Life, as in Death
I have learned that only in Love will we have no limits.
The fields of war, empty rooms of a hospital floor
Perhaps the crumbled forms that are the victims of your work.
Did you attend the funerals of those you took?
Or perhaps you sent a messenger to overlook the last of your deed.
You responded to me that what you see is more than just these cursory scenes.
That I have failed to consider your vast and endless hospitality.
The souls you accept, the willingness of your mind to not be prejudiced.
You offered me the chance to see as you see, to be as you be, to live once as death so that life could be clear.
I accepted the offer, with more than a little hesitancy.
I arrived on the day we had pre-arranged.
I had no idea what I could expect.
I remember it all, so clear as today.
The hands of the sick, the laughter of the free.
The healthy ones, the crying ones, the lonely ones, the prideful ones, the smallest ones;
All freed by a touch, a last gasp, a dying wish that the earth may yet fulfill.
And I saw the world, just as you see:
The way it is, the way it ought to be, the cost of living, the debt we all come to pay.
And
Through the eyes of Death I have learned:
The glory of Living.
And, in Living I have learned:
To let things die
By letting that which must pass
Die
I have found the limitless of my Love
And, in Life, as in Death
I have learned that only in Love will we have no limits.
The Birthday Gift
When the package came you seemed so bright.
A birthday gift for you tonight.
You tore the wrapper from the box at once.
You couldn’t wait to see what it was.
You hoped for a toy, perhaps a new game, a ticket to a show, a CD, anything…
What you got surprised both you and me.
A set of wings, as beautiful as any I ever did see.
The colors were bright and the fit, so right.
And you tried them, with a smile so large
I couldn’t believe how happy you seemed.
I encouraged you to try and take flight.
You were tentative at first, not sure how to get it just right.
I offered instructions, when you needed them most,
And in no time, Time, you were swaying the breeze, floating high above the trees,
Flapping once, flapping twice, singing to the sky
And then you were gone and I was left behind.
Through it all I never realized how heavy I had gotten, how tired I was.
In the mirror I saw me, older than I once believed.
And I smiled at your memories that you left for me.
Ah, time old friend, you flew away from me, though you left me with quite a smile.
To think, Time, that you even gave me of your time was simply enough for me.
And this time I will remember to breathe and appreciate what you do for me.
A birthday gift for you tonight.
You tore the wrapper from the box at once.
You couldn’t wait to see what it was.
You hoped for a toy, perhaps a new game, a ticket to a show, a CD, anything…
What you got surprised both you and me.
A set of wings, as beautiful as any I ever did see.
The colors were bright and the fit, so right.
And you tried them, with a smile so large
I couldn’t believe how happy you seemed.
I encouraged you to try and take flight.
You were tentative at first, not sure how to get it just right.
I offered instructions, when you needed them most,
And in no time, Time, you were swaying the breeze, floating high above the trees,
Flapping once, flapping twice, singing to the sky
And then you were gone and I was left behind.
Through it all I never realized how heavy I had gotten, how tired I was.
In the mirror I saw me, older than I once believed.
And I smiled at your memories that you left for me.
Ah, time old friend, you flew away from me, though you left me with quite a smile.
To think, Time, that you even gave me of your time was simply enough for me.
And this time I will remember to breathe and appreciate what you do for me.
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