Shall I embody spirituality Or perhaps spiritualize embodiment? Shall I live in mindfulness Or perhaps self-forgetfulness? Shall I embrace non-duality Or perhaps duel with the universe? Shall I worship God Or Gaia? Ah, no Please excuse me I am going to my rocker on our back porch The carved wooden one my children gave me One Mother’s Day in Calgary In the last millennium I will cushion my old back With the red cushion my mother crocheted A few years ago Before arthritis claimed her ability To work with red cotton thread I will sit Rock gently While admiring the green and yellow leaves Of our weeping cherry And the now empty robin nests Snuggled in the porch rafters Still echoing the pleas of hungry fledglings Fall is coming And I am content
Opposites
It seems to me that the opposite of automatically rejecting the testimony of some people (e.g., women about sexual assault, people of color about racist acts and words) is NOT automatically accepting their testimony.
Rather it is to reject any automatic reaction and realize that, in many cases, we cannot know the truth without further investigation, and in some cases, we cannot ever know it.
So what are we left with? Can we support hurting individuals while reserving judgment on the veracity of their claims?
Whether it is the physician’s credo “First do no harm” or the golden rule, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” or the Christ’s second great commandment, “Love your neighbor as you love yourself” it seems we are advised to be gentle and considerate in our response.
But what when that is not enough for “our neighbor”? It seems I am faced with several situations where reserving judgment is not enough for the other person. Anything less than a full acceptance of their allegations is characterized as a betrayal.
It seems to me that I then must accept their feeling that I have betrayed them and let them reject me, rather than betraying myself.
But I’m simply not sure. It is a twisty maze, with no obvious way out.
Now is the time, my dear Hafiz
“Now is the time for the world to know” That the nows we make Stagnate Our nows, Unfettered from our always, Cannot even be truly now Our nows Reject history Deny the future Now is the time for the world to awake Now is the time - past the time - When our nows must flow
Simply
I am not happy. I am not sad. I am not loving. I am not angry Sometimes: I feel happy. I feel sad. I feel loving. I feel angry. But always: I simply am.
You Don’t Say
Epigraph: Children, the psychotherapist taught, play what they can’t say.
We visited Mom Sunday night I was too lazy to go to Mom’s Sunday morning for Mass Wait, that’s not quite true I wasn’t lazy Embracing midnight Woody and I had made love We also had intercourse Which was fun and tender Exciting and reassuring As only intercourse in your 70s can be “Look at me! My body still works!” So orgasm was very good But not worth that much Compared to making love Strolling around each other’s bodies Tasting the dark sweetness of our lips Whispering those sweet nothings I smile into my whispers Knowing Woody Too deaf to hear words Hears the soft murmuring Of my heart’s river Flowing to him So I didn’t miss Mass because I was lazy I missed Mass because I was tired And because Woody was too Delicious Too divine To leave for something as trivial as Mass
Risk and Reward
Here Hundreds of miles from landfall All that is left is tattered sheep’s clothes That once hid devouring wolf But now only flaps Stirring leaves in fright Encouraging some to take flight Morning glories risk Their morning peak From behind green vines Tomatoes large and small Ripen Rounding, reddening In still hot sun Yellow crookneck squash hugs ground White clouds crowd sky Look: bluebird sits on the roof Of the bird feeder Chipmunk flings itself Out of ferns Across the porch While no bird drinks From our small pond Where on occasion We see small snake The house remains Quiet, still yet Not yet ready To risk the day
GOD
God is God is being God is being naked God is being, naked
We Lose
Here’s what I don’t get: Adam and Eve lost the Garden Because they shared a fruit From the tree of the knowledge Of good and evil Right? I know that’s the way I learned it More than half century ago But the words of the story Are still there to read Anyway, because Adam and Eve lost the Garden So did all of their descendants That is, all of us So here’s what I don’t get: If Adam and Eve lost the Garden When they gained the knowledge of good and evil Why can’t we Who have lost the knowledge of good and evil Who believe we can name the unnameable And teach the unknowable Why can’t we At least return to the Garden?
Mystic?
Keith Kristich of Closer Than Breath asked us to share ideas about what makes a mystic. Here’s my answer:
Mystic is a category, just like male/female or well/ill, day/night.
But reality doesn’t exist in static categories but in fluid kaleidoscope movement.
Just as I am always all sinner and all saint (Martin Luther),
so I am always mystic and never mystic.
The mystic waits always, but waits for nothing.
The mystic sees everything but looks at nothing.
I wait, as watchers wait for dawn.
I walk, as sleepers walk through the night.
I sit, I quiet, I read, I listen, I write, I pray.
But none of that makes me a mystic.
I wash the dishes, I watch three bumblebees on the heart of a sunflower, I reheat last night’s leftovers, I send a friend a text, I answer your email.
That’s the closest I can come to mystic.
Now
Want the change Challenges the poet “Want the change” Commands the therapist NO I screamsnarl Not now When I am so content Yes now Replies the therapist You do not aim high enough You do not strive hard enough Want more Yes now Replies the poet Do not take the laurel crown Nor claim the golden throne Risk the wind
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