POEM: Past, Present, Future

Past, Present, Future

The past is the foundation from which we build
The shoulders we stand upon
The inventory of experience stored for our convenience
The pool of wisdom in which we bathe
The present is the current electrifying our wishes
The happening place nearest to everything
Insight of the timeless center of our hearts
A crossroad of acquiring and letting go
The crucible
Of known and unknown
Of fear and hope
Forging things to come
The future is a mountaintop perspective
An end of a long road we wish to travel
A tomorrow yearning to be a present
A dream that knows not sleep
And keeps us waking

Finding a healthy relationship with the past, present, and future can be tricky.  The past can be a place where we are stuck to hurts and disappointments or get lost in nostalgia.  The past can be a rich mine of experience and wisdom to enrich our present and launch our future.  The present is at the very heart of our quality of life, the nexus of both change, through volition, and simple, pure experience through awareness.  Like they say: there is no gift like the present!  Of course, a myriad of distractions, from the past, present, and/or future can degrade the quality of our awareness, and stunt full consciousness.  The future can lure us into our fondest dreams and countless possibilities.  The future can paralyze us with a cauldron of fears.  May you experience a nurturing and joyful relationship with your past, present and future.

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POEM: Ounce of Prevention

An ounce of prevention
Is worth a pound of cure
Unfortunately, stuff is sold
By the pound and dollar

Virtually everyone knows that prevention is preferable to cure.  As Ben Franklin put it, “A stitch in time saves nine.”  Much of prevention takes relatively little knowledge but a good dose of long-term thinking and patience/persistence.  So why is prevention often poorly practiced?  First, as this short poem says, “stuff is sold,” meaning that tangible goods and more-easily defined services are easier to sell than intangible goods and complex, difficult-to-define services.  For example, in health-related fields, it is easier to sell a pill or distinct procedure than a whole lifestyle that offers healthy eating, regular physical activity, lower stress and adequate sleep.  Such healthy lifestyles are not achievable with a small number of simple, easy-to-define products or services.  Moreover, overall, the desire in Western civilization to monetize everything possible plays into our more base instincts that favor the concrete, the simple, and the immediate.  This profoundly affects what we make and do in our careers.  Those vocations which may advance human progress but are not easily monetized are at-risk for atrophying in modern, capitalistic culture.  Human creativity is relegated to a too-narrow focus to come up with solutions adequate for our problems.  We end up focusing on solutions that create as many or more problems.  If Western civilization where a pharmaceutical cure being advertised, the list of side-effects would literally take us to our death beds!  If we cannot together create a culture where the organizing principle is more than buying and selling, then our lives will continue to be bought and sold to the highest bidder, down to the last pound of flesh.  May we live our lives in such a way that we treasure and guard our ounces of prevention as it reigns pounds of easy cures and silver bullets; and may the fruit of our labor enrich us all.

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POEM: Farcical Optimism

He said to me
“Your optimism is farcical.”
I said
“You may be right.”
Of course
Wisdom may just be
Realizing that
Farcical optimism
Is ever so slightly preferable
To farcical pessimism

If you gathered all of the information together to make a determination of whether or not it is justified to be an optimist, it may very well be a close call.  There is plenty in this world to be pessimistic about.  The more edgy, less centered pessimists may even consider all a farce.  If this seemingly even-matching of evidence to justify optimism or pessimism, throws you off-balance, then consider balance.  Just because Pollyannishness exists does not negate optimism or hope.  Just as because nihilistic thoughts and behavior exists doesn’t mean that all is lost.  Walking this seemingly fine line between optimism and pessimism sets up one’s own basic attitude about life: which side of reality do you want to face, live into?  While the line may be fine, this most fundamental existential choice of attitude, direction, is the profound difference between good and evil.  This is how freedom plows meaning into reality and how our spirits are incarnate into the world.  Some with nihilistic orientations would prefer less meaning full terms — good and bad, useful and not useful, painful and pleasurable.  I find a deep irony in folks who are too nihilistic to even drum up a belief in evil!  This is what I would call farcical pessimism.  Unfortunately, you can’t escape this existential choice, conundrum if you will, by not answering the question.  Amorality falls solidly into the immoral category.  Amorality amounts to bad faith.  If you don’t like free will, maybe you don’t deserve to wield it.  If you don’t think that the world is about deserving and undeserving, then welcome to the world of grace…

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POEM: Secrets Lie

Secrets lie
At the heart of US
The endless wore
On tear
Never skipping
A beating
As time passes
US over
Looking like patients ignored
Collapsing under our own wait
For loving our animus
Is too much
To bare
The truth
Be herd
Our soul declaration
Creed is good
As we give ourselves
An invisible hand
That perplexing clap
For doing everything
That moves
US including
Our shadow
Double dealing
In securities
Trading
Peeps
As seen a phobia
Forges
Code wars
As truth is
Strangers are friction
As per jury of peers
Courting unequaled dispositions
Bring a bout
Foreboden fruit
Of the loom weave cobbled
A two-legged stool
Chock-full of deification
Portending wee are not
Number two
Preying only
There are no leaks
Which could raze a stink
Cowering in deed
Not even with standing
A rhetorical quest in
The proverbial can
Not out of the woods
Lay bear
It’s very nature
Calling out
Know shit
Sherlock
Without a hint
How ironic

This poem goes out to the NSA and all the other proprietors of secrets.  The NSA makes a bold play trying to corner the market on personal information about virtually everyone on the planet.  All the wile, the NSA lies about itself.  Thanks to the continuing Edward Snowden revelations, the NSA has had to deal with the light of day, sending them scattering like cockroaches.  The irony is deep when Americans are told that they have nothing to fear if they are law-abiding citizens.  So, what of NSA fears that their “private” data is divulged?  The spy business is fraught with hypocrisy and deception.  The so-called “intelligence” agencies cannot make credible claims about their own behavior when their very existence is incompatible with transparency.  A sound democracy cannot be built on official lies and “trust me” reassurances.  Power without powerful oversight lends itself to abuse of the common good.  Trust is perhaps the most valuable social good.  Trust cannot be earned or maintained without honesty and forthrightness. The NSA is sitting on a two-legged stool, and with every fresh revelation about its deception it wants us to believe that its shit doesn’t stink!

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POEM: Fortunately

Unfortunately
I am deeply cynical
The sum of my hurts, disappointments, and fears
Fortunately
I am unfathomably hopeful
Beguiled by unearned graces
Surrounded by serendipity
And pelted by joys out of the blue

In many ways, life is a double-edge sword, fortune and misfortune mysteriously entwined.  The difference may largely be what we focus upon.  I find that the firmest foundation upon which to rest my attitude is gratitude for all that is fortunate in my life.  Most of this, such as the gift of life itself, is not my doing.  Granted, much of the difficulties in my life also originate outside of my control.  Of course, I have a great say in what I choose to focus upon.  Frankly, I find gratitude so much more pleasant than resentment.  That which I do have some control over is a priceless gift of opportunity.  And such opportunity is best engaged with courage rather than fear and timidity.  As Amelia Earhart said so well, “Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace.”  May you find, that inasmuch as your life is out of control, that it comes to you characterized by grace, joy, and hope, rather than hurt, disappointment, and fear.  May you find, that inasmuch as your life is in your control, that you meet it with courage and gratitude, rather than fear and resentment.

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POEM: Rascal

I am a rascal
Of course, there are many kinds of rascals
Of which sort I won’t tell
That’s part of rascality

Anyone who wholeheartedly embraces and explores their free will, will find a glorious unpredictability that can only be viewed as rascality from certain perspectives.  Spending an inordinate amount of time trying to categorize the various types of rascality can be foolhardy as well as an unsatisfying distraction from the sheer enjoyment of rascality.  My optimistic take on rascality focuses on its playfully mischievous aspect.  This variety of rascality is harmless, except perhaps if taken too seriously, engendering an overreaction.  Of course, there is some danger posed by the type of rascal who is simply an unscrupulous scoundrel.  Though I suspect that unscrupulous scoundrels have a more distinct predictability.  If you can tell the difference between playfulness and conniving, you are probably safe.  I trust that it is no mystery which kind of rascal I am…

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POEM: Feet Grounded

People who insist on having their feet firmly on the ground
Often become intimately familiar with the top of their shoes

The attachment to knowing and control, and the quest for security, can lead to a focus too narrow for one’s own good.  So-called realism can lead to tunnel vision.  Plus, sticking with the feet metaphor, to move, walk, or run, you need to lift your feet off the ground.  In fact, the more mobile, agile, adaptive you are, the more attention you need to pay to your environment, especially new information coming into view or from the horizon.  It can be an elusive wisdom striking a balance of being familiar with where you are at and taking in and processing emerging information extending out from oneself.  Like I have been known to say: It takes a big man to have their head in the clouds and their feet on the ground.  May you grow to wondrously fit whatever is in your path, rising to any occasion, or nimbly navigating any narrow passages.

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POEM: Breathing

Thinking about breathing makes it more difficult

Amazingly, and quite fortuitously, people can breathe without thinking.  Breathing is something we know how to do without having to think about it.  Thankfully, thousands of bodily functions fall into this category.  Fortunately, we don’t have to think about digesting a meal, or even know the intricacies of how digestion occurs.  Breathing is somewhat special in that it occurs without our volition — and even against our volition if we try to stop breathing — yet we can alter our breathing if we want.  Breathing is under both unconscious and conscious control.  This is why many meditation experts use breathing as a focus for developing awareness of and harmony between our conscious will and the many natural, well-regulated processes outside our consciousness.  Most people who have ever tried breath meditation techniques immediately learn that conscious thought can interfere with the natural process of breathing.  Some things are better left alone.  This poem is intended to cause reflection in the reader about the benefit of leaving alone these many natural, well-regulated processes outside our consciousness.  Humans have a bias toward conscious control of themselves and their environment.  The great gift of volition needs to be balanced with a respect for life and nature and its own wisdom, that doesn’t require our will for harmony to exist.  Perhaps ironically, willing ourselves to let go of the need to will is often the best solution for us and the rest of life.  Of course, adding another few thousand tasks to our do-not-do list can be more freeing than free will itself!  May you freely relax into your life.

 

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POEM: Confused

If you are confused, you are well on your way

Life can be complicated.  If you delve into the intricacies of most any situation or topic, you will find many shades of gray, and undoubtedly some paradoxes or contradictions.  If you find this confusing, then consider that a sign that you are well on your way.  Another version of this is: “If you are confused, then you are beginning to understand the problem.”  Certainly, having a deep and nuanced understanding of any situation or topic can offer great benefits.  Knowing the facts about reality can be much better than not knowing the facts about reality.  However, sheer knowledge has its limits and can bring diminishing returns with increasing effort exerted.  At some point it may even bring negative returns.  This brink or end of knowledge can be the beginning of wisdom.  The learned add something each day; the wise let go of something each day.  A key facet of wisdom is unlearning, letting go of ways that no longer work well.  Increasing complexity is not the strength that wisdom offers, but rather simplicity.  Organizing one’s life around a few things that one is confident about is much wiser than building an increasingly complex, teetering pile of less certain and less valued stuff.  In the wise words of Lao-tse: “I have just three things to teach: simplicity, patience, compassion. These three are your greatest treasures.”  Of course, in modern, capitalistic, Western civilization, complexity, impatience, and unadulterated self-interest are virtues cultivated.  Complexity overwhelms simplicity in a juggernaut of competing interests meeting shallow needs.  Impatience serves as a superficial imposter of the eternal now.  Greed trumps compassion.  If you find these clashing values confusing, take simplicity, patience, and compassion for a test drive. Still, don’t be surprised if many around you find your new ways increasingly confusing.  Knowing the world is knowledge.  Knowing others is wisdom.  Knowing oneself is enlightenment.  And many get stuck on knowledge.

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POEM: Coincidentally

I have a lot of amazing coincidences in my life
As luck would have it
I don’t believe in such things

This poem is intentionally ambiguous — much like much of life is ambiguous.  Most people tend to bring a certain perspective to this ambiguity.  Some people view fortuitous coincidences as the effect of some beneficient force, such a God or some version of a friendly universe.  Some people view unfortunate coincidences as the effect of some nefarious force.  Some people view coincidences as dumb luck, sometimes seemingly helpful, sometimes seemingly harmful.  Are these perspectives caused in some deterministic fashion, chosen by us, or granted us by some mysterious source?  It seems to me that the answer we give to this question depends on our assumptions.  I am fascinated by these recursive issues — while others may simply find themselves cursing over and over!  In some strange way, my hope and optimism springs eternal from the apparent reality that it is impossible to NOT believe something; that is, we MUST believe in something that cannot be proved with certainty.  While this could be viewed as a maddening trick by a cruel or indifferent universe, I see it as the essential wiggle room that we need to play the creative games as in the image-ining of our Creator.  Choose an assumption.  Believe in something.  See where it leads.  Our assumptions do matter.  They change the world.  They change us.  Our faith will incarnate into the world.  Regardless of what beliefs you act on, you will manifest a reality congruent with them.  Be the change that you want to see in the world.  Is it some amazing coincidence that our free will acts upon the chains of causality?  Of course, if you don’t believe in free will, then belief is meaningless, and all is determined for you; and you can rest assured that your meaningless situation is someone or something else’s fault.  As luck would have it, I don’t believe in such things.

 

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POEM: Good News, Bad News

I have good news and bad news
The bad news:
God called and he said he wants his religion back
The good news:
He didn’t call collect

The gap between the actual practice of religion and the sacred principles held dear by every major faith present in the world requires grace to be reconciled.  The relatively popular and all-too-common view that God is punishing is perhaps the most fundamental misconception in religion.  God is love.  Love does not seek to punish.  If you want to punish people, please recognize that that impulse is not in alignment with God’s will.  The desire to punish others is a misguided human impulse.  Attributing your own desire to hurt others — or, conveniently, have another punish them for you — only adds insult to injury.  The belief in hell is the perfection of projecting human shortcomings onto God.  There is plenty of hell to go around, created by humans on earth.  Wanting to see further misery added to this is simply sadistic.  The gospel, literally “good news,” is that when God calls it won’t be as a debt collector, but rather as a lover seeking to woo you into a deeper relationship.  Now that’s a call I can answer!

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POEM: Eminently Bad Business

Some might suggest that we run everything like a business
This is eminently bad business

The notion that everything should be run like a business runs like a disease through Western Civilization.  This delusion leads some to believe that capitalism is the answer to all human problems.  This pathetic reduction of humanity to economic beings is at the core of most major human problems that the world faces.  Most people would consider it absurd to run your love life like a business, or raising children, or being a best friend, or virtually any enterprise that would benefit from centering one’s life outside of one’s own parochial interests.  The most valuable things in life are not things.  Such “things” should not be imprisoned within profit margins and subject to usury for every asset we possess.  What does it profit a man to gain the world and lose his soul?  If you can’t articulate some sacred ground for your soul to reside, then the only advice would be: make sure you get a really good price for your soul; don’t sell yourself short.  Of course, if your soul has a price, and you are selling yourself, don’t be surprised that others treat you like a prostitute when going about your business.

“Let them call me rebel and welcome, I feel no concern from it! For I should suffer the misery of devils were I to make a whore of my soul.” — Thomas Paine.

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POEM: Sinking Ship

When a ship is sinking
It may be wiser to follow the rats
Rather than the humans
That is, if you can tell the difference

This Titanic poem juxtaposes the zeniths and abysses of humans, created only a little less than angels, and rats, a generally unappreciated part of the human experience.  This poem sets up a contrast of the ingenuousness of Western civilization and the oft underappreciated wisdom in nature.  Amidst the myriad of human-created crises, looking to nature for wisdom can cut through a lot of foolishness.  Rats are less complicated creatures than humans, not as prone to confused and conflicted decision-making.  This simplicity can be lifesaving in life threatening situations.  Of course, when humans are at their lows they are less reliable guides for behavior than rats and exceedingly more dangerous.  Calling a human a rat is considered derogatory, but in some situations rats exceed human performance.  Maybe we should cut rats some slack.  Similarly, in our foolish scurryings about, perhaps we should refrain from the term “rat race,” as this also may be unfair to rats.

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POEM: Disillusionment

You say that you’re disillusioned like it’s a bad thing

My whole life I’ve heard people talk about being disillusioned in one way or another.  Not once have I heard this with anything but a negative connotation.  This one line poem alludes to another way.  Some years ago, it dawned on me that losing your illusions is a great thing.  Disillusionment may, in fact, be one of the grandest goals in life.  What greater meaning can be attained than aligning one’s life with reality, as it is, not as we happen to think it is.  And how can this happen except by letting go of our illusions?  I would like to see humanity reclaim the term disillusionment.  Will you join me in claiming an attitude of gratitude when our illusions run into reality and those illusions lose handedly?  Let’s rejoice at this inescapable process of disillusionment on the way to enlightenment and more truthful living.  Alas, hope springs eternal, even in the face of determined cynicism.

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POEM: By No Means Necessary

By No Means Necessary

When the strident are
Up in arms
Staking their claims
By any means necessary
May such a battlefield
Arouse patience strewn
A bout
Of faith
Inciting our most gratuitous hopes
By any kinds possible
The prison door of necessity
Leaving us
Unhinged
Taking liberties
Only in dependence
On open hearts
In tact
In our chest
No longer hoard
Soles in a circle unbroken
Vaulting us
To claims unstaked
In arms above
Scaling untrodden heights
With such generous helping
Hands down
The best
Giving rise
By no means necessary

This poem is about hope and the possibilities that kindness open up to create a new and better reality.  Claiming a need to reach an end “by any means necessary” is precarious moral ground.  In common political parlance, the phrase might be “we are leaving all options open.”  At best this is a casual amorality, at worst a cruel compulsion or “necessary” evil.  I’m not big on “necessary” evil.  Militancy focuses on a “you forced me to” mentality, fixating on our most base needs and instincts alone.  No doubt, certain actions lead to likely reactions.  Nonetheless, we can do better.  Acting in hope with open hearts is an invitation to escape from closed-sum thinking and hurt feelings, and join together in something greater than the sum of its parts.  Hope is a vulnerable invitation in that it may be rejected.  If rejected, in retrospect, it may appear to have been better to have not made an invitation.  I think that this is why humans have learned a certain reactionary approach in life.  This makes sense, but such a reactionary approach does not represent all that is possible, or even all that is probable.  Leaders make invitations.  Leaders offer hope.  Leaders make themselves vulnerable and put some actual skin in the game, in order to walk the walk not just talk the talk.  We can make excuses by saying, “He made me do it,” but this denies our most basic freedom, to do something differently, that is our greatest asset in human progress.   Not surprisingly, hope is by its very nature a community project.  Only by joining together, with mutual invitations and mutual aid, can our highest hopes become real.  And the highest hope is a circle unbroken, everyone in and nobody out.  The cynical acts of confederates to “get ours” at the expense of others is ultimately self-defeating, degrading the vitality of human community of which we are inescapably a part.  Of course, the hope that springs from the faith that humanity is ultimately one is like all other faith: something not fully realized but believed to be present.  Such faith and hope cannot become fully realized “by any means necessary,” being by no means necessary; still it may be realized “by any kinds possible.”  Do not rise to every occasion in kind, rather, in kindness rise to every occasion.

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POEM: Monkeys with Typewriters

If you put a hundred monkeys with typewriters in a room
Would there be any way to tell
That it wasn’t the Fox News copy room?

This short poem is a parody of both the infinite monkey theorem and Fox News.

“The infinite monkey theorem states that a monkey hitting keys at random on a typewriter keyboard for an infinite amount of time will almost surely type a given text, such as the complete works of William Shakespeare.  In this context, “almost surely” is a mathematical term with a precise meaning, and the “monkey” is not an actual monkey, but a metaphor for an abstract device that produces an endless random sequence of letters and symbols. The relevance of the theorem is questionable—the probability of a monkey exactly typing a complete work such as Shakespeare’s Hamlet is so tiny that the chance of it occurring during a period of time even a hundred thousand orders of magnitude longer than the age of the universe is extremely low (but not zero).”

So, if you watch Fox News long enough you should see the complete works of William Shakespeare!  And they said Fox News viewers have a short attention span — and no taste!  Unfortunately, Fox News is not random.  In this case, randomness would be a blessing.  If only Fox News were merely a troop of chattering monkeys!  But alas, Faux News has a distaste for fair and balanced news, bringing a distinct point of view or perspective that twists the truth to its own ends.  Their outrageous claims pawned off as news leaves many a reasonable person red-faced as Fox News quixotically swings about their moulin rouge derrieres like careless baboons.

While the infinite monkey theorem is a uselessly clever construction, much like Fox News, I find its allusion to evolution a hilarious fortuity.  Partly because Fox News clings to a nominal conservative Christian doctrinaire which disdains evolution.  Partly because Fox News may, in fact, be the best contemporary evidence that evolution does not exist!  May the Fox News copy room never be copied, and may this unbecoming mutation disappear without progeny.

Check out more Top Pun Fox News parodies here.

 

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POEM: Rumi-nation

I live in a perpetual Rumi-nation

This simple one-line poem reflects a basic experience in my life, in general, and as a poet.  As a poet, my mind, at times, drifts into aha moments of epiphanies, and at times, races to find connections between the infinite aspects of reality.  This calls to mind another favorite, one-line poem of mine: Everything reminds me of everything else.  Of course, the mystical place of the Rumi-nation, unlike nation states, has no border patrol or illegal immigration statuses.  This eternal place can be accessed from anywhere at any time, for only the cost of paying attention.  May you visit often!

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POEM: Smoking Guns

Smoking Guns

Gun control is their aim
Bringing a bout
Sad states
And a stag nation
Wear points are sported
Big bucks are the game
Triggering depression
Beyond one’s cope
Looking down
The business end
Of a gun shaking
As one’s head
Worse than beating
Against the wall
Steadied boots
Quaking again
Mourning posthumous convictions
Of scofflaw abiding citizens
Accost paid
Wrapped in flags
Until free at last
Like taking life
Most like one own
Or another
Like black male
Against one’s will
No more amendments seconded
In this ultimate bill of rites
Pain in full
Coffin at the price
High as a kite
And nonnegotiable        
Hostage too smoking
Guns unlocked
And loaded
Still packing
In their sleep
Dreams of night stands
And steel pillows
Leaving red necks
And faces
Like a smothers love
Taking homicides
As common ground
All the wile
Shooting off their mouths
Making impossible Glock suckers
Deceasing and desisting
The Man
Behind the curtain
Firing the lynch pin
For all times
As smoking guns
Don’t prove anything
So says anyone with half a brain

The title of this poem, “Smoking Guns,” is at least a triple pun.  The first meaning, most literal, is a gun just fired.  The second meaning refers to a quest for direct evidence of something (like a gun being fired!).  The third meaning is a bit more nuanced and fleshed out in the poem: literally smoking a gun by holding it in one’s mouth and committing suicide by firing it and blowing one’s brains out.  While this may seem more crude than nuanced, it is referencing an oft overlooked reality about guns and public health and safety: guns kill more Americans by suicide than murder.  The bizarre notion that guns offer some great protection in a dangerous world is negated by the frightening reality that someone possessing a gun is more likely to shoot and kill themselves, then kill another.  Now, this may be some bizarre karmic feedback to those with guns, but it can’t get much stranger — another loaded pun!  If someone possessing a gun manages not to kill themselves, they are far more likely to mistakenly kill a family member than a truly threatening stranger.  Of course, this leapfrogs over the tragic reality of purely unintentional deaths from accidental discharges, most often of a gun owner’s family members or friends!  Only when guns are outlawed will outlaws accidentally shoot their kids!  So much for protection.

The reality is guns are lethal consumer products that have escaped safe, commonsense regulation — unparalleled by any other consumer product with such inherent lethality.  Guns and suicide are the perfect example of this public health problem.  Guns are a very effective means of killing oneself that doesn’t take any special knowledge or training.  Very few people “fail” when trying to kill themselves with a gun.  Combined with the nature of suicide attempts, guns become particularly lethal.  Firearms are involved in over half of all suicides.  Most suicide attempts are by people depressed or distressed who experience an acute episode of severe suicidal thoughts.  These episodes are most frequently minutes or hours.  Without easy access to lethal means, most suicidal episodes are survived.  The choice of suicide methods is key. Moderating easy access to firearms is the most effective means of reducing suicides.  For example, compared to men, women are about three times more likely to experience depression, twice as likely to attempt suicide, yet only about a fourth as likely to “successfully” complete suicide.  This is largely related to the suicidal methods chosen.  Simply put, women use guns much less frequently in suicide attempts.  Women are only about a third as likely as men to own a gun, and are less likely to live in households with guns.

The main alternative approach to preventing suicides is having an excellent mental health system.  Unfortunately, this approach is at least as complex, and perhaps similarly intractable, as altering easy gun access.  Plus, building and maintaining an excellent mental health system is surely more financially expensive and less cost-effective than sensible regulation of firearms.  Of course, pursuing both would have definite payoffs, reducing suicide and much more!

Having worked in public health for many years, I see the parallels in the battles to bring both tobacco use and guns into a reasonable place in protecting the publics health.  Frankly, I see gun right’s nuts as even crazier than tobacco company executives lining up in front of congress and saying that they don’t believe that nicotine is addictive.  It’s difficult to think of another area of public policy and public health where the political and societal realities are so divorced from science and reason.  May we escape the ideological traps that threaten the public’s health and well-being.  After all, guns don’t die, people do!

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POEM: Hope Inflamed

Hope Inflamed

Hope inflamed
That which cannot be
Put out
Will consume every individual
Testing their mettle
Forging in feeleds
Just discovered
From a crucible witch lies unknown
Alloys forever
Stronger than any metal
Purely a loan
No matter
How precious
Our faith
In one
Another
Together
With standing
The fiercest heat
Or the harshest in difference

This poem about hope rests on my trust and faith that together humans will rise to any problem that we can experience in this world.  I like the Amelia Earhart quote, “Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace.”  I think that courage, while sometimes rare, is contagious.  I think that once one truly experiences peace and freedom, there is little going back.  I cite the Arab Spring as an example of a quantum leap forward that may be resisted but cannot be defeated.  Human consciousness or awareness is the nexus and seed of all good that springs forth from humankind.  Ignorance is the dark side and enemy of such enlightenment.  Ignorance and denial are powerful forces in human life, but, I believe, that they are less powerful than human mindfulness and the human spirit unleashed.  I see the human spirit as rooted and emanating from a place that is outside, transcendent of worldly power structures.  Further, an enlightened soul does not retreat into some other-worldly place, but engages the powers that be in this world, modeling better ways, those rooted in the deepest realities of human experience and being.  I am impressed by the sheer existential choice of Buddha to remain in the world to help others rather than blow out into nirvana.  This speaks to a state of higher consciousness, transcending self.  Similarly, Jesus did not shy away or retreat from the powers that be.  Jesus put all of his skin in the game, to the point of death, being crucified as an enemy of the Roman state.  Jesus modeled a reality of Pax Christi versus Pax Romana, the difference between shalom and détente, a higher expectation/hope for the state of human existence on this earth.  As Gandhi proclaimed, “Peace is possible” — a revolutionary statement in a world where conventional wisdom is that détente is the highest possible state; or perhaps some dystopia of trying to kill all of your enemies, giving rise to more enemies, resulting in endless war with some perverse patriotism demonizing one another.  I will cast my lot with one another together with standing the fiercest heat or the harshest difference.  What say you?

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POEM: Author Author Original

Author Author Original

Many great authors
Veritable prose
Composed
Many glorified pages
Of legends owed
Epitomizing a theme
Depicting perfect variations
Epic anecdotes
In firmity
Contracted
By edifices
Of many stories
I prefer the novelty
Of a single sentence
Unleashing countless perspectives
Leaping tall buildings
Condemned
To freedom
Facing immanent decomposition
A tale doggedly wagging
Kneading not
A collect
The preyer of singular digits
Followed by zeroes
Offering
No cure awe
Beyond
Ne’er rating
Guttenburgers
Serving billions
In the court
Of public opinion
In loo of
Author original
Nameless

This poem is an ode to the commercialization of the art of writing.  This is less an indictment of authors trying to make a living than the nature of others trying to make a living off authors.  Also, this poem speaks to my preference for poetry versus prose.  I must confess, I had a great laugh with the epiphany of “Guttenburger,” a literate hybrid pun, unduplicated in its meatiness.  The image of a hurried run of trashy novels on the jacked up modern equivalent of the Guttenberg press, like fast food burgers on a conveyor grill, about sums up art meeting modern civilization.  As Western civilization quickly monetizes and copies right any art sufficient to the task, artists continue the eternal struggle to pay worthy homage to the original author nameless and unnamable, reproducing endless originals.

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