Archive | June, 2011

Because It Is

                                     Because It Is

                                     You cannot dream things that never were
                                     for in a sometime and a somewhere
                                     they've taken place and left their indelible memory
                                     on your mind.

                                     Only to be remembered when a slim shadow
                                     casts its spell across your life
                                     and causes you to bring forth a relic,
                                     a piece of the dream that had its substance
                                     in a far time when love was pocketed
                                     near your heart and brought forth to heal
                                     a wound, to make life complete.

                                     Never to question why or why not.
                                     Simply because it is.
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Forever Is A Long Time

Premises are the foundation upon which we construct our systems of belief.  There are those of us who come replete with boundaries signifying right and wrong and what is kosher and what is not.   Then there are those who come in with wings attached it seems.   And then there are the ones who have nothing in their carpet bags when arriving and are expected to fly by the seat of their pants.  Complaints are profuse from the ones who chafe with rules and then the ones with nothing don’t know where to look for guidance since even the ordained are not exactly clear on boundaries.

But here is the kicker.   What I have as a perceptual premise is what my understanding and experience have integrated.  What I must do is apply this principle to everyone because they may have their gods as their mentors in a belief system maybe far removed from what I hold true.  Our lives are a testimony to what we believe is our world with a system that serves us.  In a world where there is space for everything we consider to be sacred, ethical, and decent,  there can be peace and civility if we all adhere to the highest and best within each system. 

Of course there are those who would negate our freedom to live and worship.  The results we are all too familiar with.  We do what our belief systems deem the highest and best to repair and heal the ravaged wounds those beliefs incur.   What we need to do is live our truth as the example others would want to adopt.  We must think it through.  And think it through again.   And again.

Forever is a long time to keep picking up our mistakes because they bear our names.
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A Trying Thing

 

It is a trying thing we do.  We want to understand what we remember of a specific time when all we have are bits of memories and what historians say went on at the time.   But we cannot take as fact all that we read or hear.  Everything written cannot be taken as gospel.   Everything heard cannot be taken without question.  What we have in our memory bank we get in snatches and try to make as much sense out of them as we can.

 For when we try to do more than this, we are playing a guessing game.   It is also a guess when we are not certain whose memories we are jousting with.   Are they our memories of this life or perhaps other lives of ours as more of the world believes or perhaps even of distant or ancient ancestors written into our DNA?   Are we responsible for unfulfilled talents or love not returned?   Can we or should we put to rest our ancestors’ anguish?

And what about all the historians’ views of history?  How much of it is conjecture?   How much of it is piecing what bits can be garnered to fill in the spaces when the times themselves have left no record?   There is much that can be retrieved through concerted research.  But retrieved also must be the long lost habit of conversation with aging persons.  There is much that oral history will reveal that written history has neglected to mention.  

It is a hard work we do to find a putting place for memories.   But it is one way to find out who holds the candle for each of us. 

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Meditation

Come with me to this place
I visit often, hidden behind an eyelash;
where it is Easter all the time and
rebirth is not a sometime thing; where
gods cavort in joyous abandon.
        Come, we dance. . . .                       

Today the world stood still. In the
bright afternoon sun I saw a butterfly
dart into a spider's web woven between
the power lines and lift it up and carry
it with him.

In the silence I heard the question.

How heavy is a spider's web on a butterfly's wing?

Since everything is balanced,
the question is proportional.
A friend said to me, 'only you had eyes to see it.'
Does the world stand still for you? Ever?
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