There is nothing new under the sun
Though in the shadows
The same old same old
Is more mournfully familiar
Settling for reality-lite
Too at home with night
Groping with eyes open
Instead of lightly touched
Even with eyes closed seeing
Age-old must
And vexing knot
A bout
Bitter medicine as won’s savor
Know silence
Too be heard
Where the sun don’t shine
As passing vapor
In stubborn renouncing
Not eye
And such fancy
Still too much
To be taken
In completely
The spell overcast
Eclipsing the census
Of awe that counts
More than won could
Ever bask for
This poem weaves the themes of our everyday blindness to deeper realities, the mystical third eye, and gratitude. Things are not always as they appear. Things are more than they appear. Those who round reality down to mere appearance settle for a more finite and uninspiring perspective on reality. If it isn’t obvious that life is blisteringly miraculous in the sunshine occupying roughly half of our earthly existence, then there is a deeper, ever-present way of seeing that enlightens awe of reality, more than one could ever bask for. Sadly, many prefer to manage dwelling in the even more roughly half of our earthly existence, darkness, despite its propensity for inducing fear and despair. This poem plays with these two interwoven aspects of reality, dark and light, mere appearance and meaning full experience. These dual, and dueling, aspects of reality are not contradictory; rather, they are different levels of reality, one including yet transcending the other. The prosaic and miraculous are only divorced if our perspective is committed to irreconcilable differences. The oneness of reality eternally woos us if wowing us is too transparent for our mode of perception. Nonetheless, the lure of the manageability of the world of mere appearances is powerful, to those limiting themselves to such parochial power. Unfortunately, those limiting themselves to the scarcity and paucity of the world of mere appearances will feel compelled to compete, even brutally, for control over this lesser realm. Security and freedom become mortal enemies and even the asleep don’t sleep well. Those suffering such blindness and obsession insist upon their powerful incites. The ensuing fetish with control and manipulation extract a brutal price from anyone actually exercising freedom. More liberal-minded manipulators will insist that you have all kinds of rights but they will get nervous if you actually exercise them!
My experience informs me that peace and freedom can exist together if gratitude is the uniting reality. This gratitude-powered peace is both an internal peace and external peace. Gratitude-powered people are the least dangerous people in the world; that is, except to those whose job is to convince others of their lack, especially if linked to selling you a product, service, or idea that will make them gain money or status. If gratitude unites your world view, then you could say that gratitude is your religion, a religion of “Thank God for thanks!” As you might guess, my worldview is profoundly influenced by grace, a recognition and respect for undeserved gain that overturns a barren capitalistic view that at best can offer a fair and equal exchange, where generosity is a foolish inefficiency and the bounty of life is jacked up to yield the highest price possibly bearable by humanity (or by “the market” if “humanity” doesn’t compute). The bounty of life becomes fodder of our folly, as “Wanted — dead or alive,” runs roughshod over life itself. I strongly suspect that the consuming disease of controlling others is a failure to answer the question of how much is enough. At the heart of this disease is fear and inescapable greed. I believe that a responsible freedom, a freedom that is informed by gratitude, can operate amidst fear and greed without distorting its own nature and consonance with life, that comes from who knows where, but, as a dyslexic and a mystic, I find naturally super!
