POEM: Paying Attention

Are you too broke to pay attention?

This one-line poem most directly seeks to de-link material wealth from perhaps the greatest tool available to humans: consciousness, or mindfulness.  Being able to access mindfulness, regardless of wealth, status, or “worldly” power, is perhaps the greatest foundation for achieving justice and equality, as well as “enlightenment.”  Being mindful of our inner life and our outer life, particularly other sentient beings, better aligns us with reality. Mindfulness is necessary to mine the inner life of our own subjectivity and how this may resonate with others’ subjectivity (including any conception or belief about God).  Mindfulness is necessary to accurately, minimizing bias, “objectively, ” understand the outer world we share with others.  While mindfulness is simply a process, the end result is compassion and empathy, which I believe is the glue that holds humanity together.  By truly paying attention to the difficulties of life encountered by ourselves and others, it is nearly impossible to avoid developing compassion and empathy.  This includes humility for ourselves, in facing the daunting challenges of life.  This humility serves as a shield from hubris, the arrogance that distorts our own view of ourselves in relation to others and discounts our many ignorances about ourselves and the world in which we live.  I am not too broke to pay attention.  However, I am just enough broke to appreciate humility and the many graces which even allow me to ponder such matters.

Posted in Poems, Political and Philosophical Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Taking Care

Take care
Steal it if you must

There may well be an epidemic of people not taking good care of themselves.  This is often times due to an undue focus on other things and other people.  Of course, caring for others is a good thing.  It is a prevalent ideal to hold up others as more valuable than ourselves.  This can be a valuable spiritual exercise in many instances, to help overcome our own egocentricity and selfishness.  Still, the idea of valuing people is violated if we don’t value ourselves.  We need to strike a balance of caring for self and others to achieve and maintain abundant care for all concerned.  If I am depleted by not taking care of myself, then I harm my ability to care for others.  You can’t give what you don’t have.  To achieve balance and equality in valuing people, we often times need to love and care for ourselves more, rather than loving and caring for others less.  By caring for ourselves, we empower and even leverage our ability to care for others.  To achieve the ideal of treating people equally, we need to include ourselves as a person worthy of equal treatment.  Plus, modelling a balanced approach to caring for all people equally, including ourselves, may very well be the best gift we can give one another.

This poem is intentionally provocative to perhaps jolt someone who is not caring for themselves well into a better balance.  Acknowledging our own sacred worth may help center ourselves around our worthiness to receive adequate care.  Receiving adequate care is a human right on par with receiving our daily bread.  While at first glance, stealing some care for oneself may seem objectionable, it should receive at least as much compassion and empathy as a starving person stealing some bread in a world of abundance.  For we don’t live by bread alone…

Posted in Poems, Political and Philosophical Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Unconvincing

In stillness
I sometimes reach out
To touch her back
Trying to convince myself
That she is not an angel
And I find
Her lack of wings holy
Unconvincing

On a recent vacation, I wrote this love poem one early morning in bed with my lover and best friend (no, it was not a threesome).  I just had to get out of bed, temporarily, to ink this one, so she could read it with her morning coffee (while I was still in bed).

Posted in Poems | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Relationship Advice

My advice
Treat her like the goddess she is
Engenders an inevitable response
What about this and that
I say
“Treat her like the goddess she is”
NOT
“Treat her like the goddess she isn’t”

What more can I say?  This love poem actually works better in practice than it reads.  Try it for yourself…

Posted in Poems | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Lottery

I won the lottery
Now I am able
To outsource
My neuroses

Winning the lottery is probably one of the most common fantasies, particularly by the math-impaired.  Most people assume that getting a large windfall of money will make their life better.  This is often not the case.  Researchers found that lottery winners who won between $50,000 and $150,000 did not solve their debt problems and only postponed bankruptcy.  Of course, there have been plenty of problems, often new problems, exacerbated by winning the lottery.  

Money is a form of power that can multiply both strengths and weaknesses.  Unfortunately, money is unlikely to be the key ingredient in a balanced life.  Money is more likely to play to our weaknesses than our strengths. Powering up your neuroses is a risky business.  Plus, large changes in our life are stressful and even positive changes can be very disrupting. Perhaps there is good reason why every major religion/faith downplays or warns against relying on wealth for a good life.

My personal take on the lottery: I prefer flushing my money directly down the toilet — thereby cutting out the middle man!

Gambling — don’t bet on it!

Posted in Poems, Political and Philosophical Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Escaping Hubris

Indigency is the quickest road
Out of hubris
Few of us can afford
Its high price

Hubris, or arrogance, is powerfully seductive in the human mind.  This excessive self-confidence seems to be an inescapable part of egocentricity.  Nonetheless, as humans feel more powerful and secure, hubris dangerously careens into indifference and disconnection from other humans and the rest of life.  Hubris short-circuits empathy and compassion.  Research shows that wealth and power lead to reduced compassion.  Recognizing our own vulnerability, our own areas of insecurity and powerlessness, reinforce empathy and compassion, better connecting us with others.  This vulnerability is a central aspect of intimacy, which is key to living into our full humanity.  If we are not able to risk and trust, then we will be disabled regarding forming deep social connections, having to settle for relative isolation.  In this short poem, I use indigency as a proxy and condition of vulnerability; thus, making it an insurance policy against hubris.  I chose indigency as the surest and quickest road out of hubris because it has the benefit of having the material conditions to support vulnerability built-in, not just an emotional or mental state to be maintained by sheer will or mental activity.  Also, I would like to redeem the state of indigency, which has a nearly universal negative connotation.  I see indigency as one of two basic realities in life.  We are dependent. We are dependent on other people and a myriad of other things that we have no control over.  The other basic reality is that we are free, we have control, at least some control, over ourselves.  I think our attitude over our “indigency,” our dependence on things outside of us, forms our most fundamental spiritual state, our attitude toward the world.  How will I relate to others and the world around me?  Will I act in ways affirming friendliness and beneficence, or cruelty and indifference?  My attitude does not definitively answer the question of whether the universe is friendly or not, but it does define the nature of my agency and how I choose to vote — by my actions. What will I contribute to the world?  Modern psychology affirms the fact that people function better with a positive outlook than a negative outlook.  People seem to be better suited to acting in accordance with being in a sea of grace than in a cold, indifferent world.  Hubris denies the former and is a vote for indifference — which rather conveniently, is a vote for oneself over all else (not exactly indifferent, just unaware of one’s bias)!  The last line of the poem, “Its high price,” is purposely vague, in that “it” can refer to the high price of hubris and the high price of indigency.  Life seems to exact a price no matter what choices we make.  Life demands effort.  There is a price to be paid.  Would you rather pay the high cost of indigency or the high cost of hubris?  By the way, hubris is the default!

Posted in Poems, Political and Philosophical Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Stage Coach

Stage Coach

One day
I lost my script
And was taken back
Only to have scene
The other actors
Guise
Now
In the audience
Having won
More stage
Contracted

This is a good example of one of my elegantly ambiguous poems, playing off multiple meanings, creating tensions for the reader to resolve on their own.  The general theme plays off “real” acting and the role each of us plays on life’s stage.  The stage is set in motion by losing one’s script.  For actors this could be a crisis.  In real life, this could be a real blessing and launchpad to freedom. Being “taken back” can mean “surprised” or “to lose one’s footing;” or to return to an earlier time, perhaps a more innocent or true time; or to be accepted back by the other actors for yet another scene. Is moving from “guise” to authenticity a stage?  Within the tension of guise and authenticity is the alternating roles of actor and audience member.  So how does one participate on life’s stage without either acting or simply being relegated to a passive observer?  Is “winning” getting a greater role on stage or somehow transcending the stage itself?  The last line, last word, “contracted” is at least a triple pun.  Contracted can mean having signed (won?) a contract.  Contracted can mean made smaller.  Contracted can mean coming down with a disease.

The title, Stage Coach, lies outside the formal purview of the poem, much like the realm of metaphysics or God, offering a hint, but ample uncertainty.

Of course, the poem and title conjure up the monologue and poem,”All the World’s a Stage,” in the play, As You Like It, by William Shakespeare:

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

Of course, if you are a playwright, everything looks like a stage…

Posted in Poems, Political and Philosophical Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Awkward Phase

I often find myself stuck in that awkward time between birth and death

My Dad is fond of saying, “The only constant is change.”  Life is dynamic.  Buddhism teaches that no thing is permanent in itself; but rather that every thing exists within a constantly changing relationship with everything else.  Thus, the centrality of impermanence in Buddhist thought.  If you think that things are “stuck” or even on a plateau, then your perception is illusory.  Of course, this perception of “stuckness” or permanence is commonplace.  The awkward moment or phase is when one realizes that all of life is in this condition of impermanence!  Of course, the “all of life” is typically placed between”birth and death.”  Philosophers, theologians, and metaphysicians are also inclined to ponder life after death and/or life before birth.  Cynics are bound to ponder whether there is life between birth and death!  Either way, impermanence remains in all of life’s glory.  If you don’t like it, just wait, things will change!

Posted in Poems, Political and Philosophical Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Serendipity and Dippity Doo

On occasions
I find it easy
To believe
In sarin gas
And dippity doo
Rather than serendipity
These are not special occasions

While many of my poems have an edge to them, my body of work is decidedly hopeful.  This poem reflects on the way too easy response in life to be inane or even cruel.  It seems that the “reptilian” deep part of our brain that responds to immediate threats with “fight of flight” is a default mechanism that is triggered, and acted upon, unless higher functions override it.  When confronted with violence or injustice, a first response is often to strike back (fight) or avoid conflict (flight).  In an unreflective reflex to large, institutional violence or injustice, the “sarin gas” option feels good, to strike back and hurt when hurt.  Fortunately, such actions are rarely converted to action!  More commonly, conflict avoidance is practiced by burying ourselves in simple denial or inane distraction — thus, the dippity doo (for those who may not get the reference, dippity doo is a hair gel).  Each of these fight or flight responses is contrasted with “serendipity,” a playful alliteration, and a lucky or pleasant surprise.  This is a call to live in a place that is more luminous, patient, and generous — to live in the presence of a higher power that is beneficent and life-giving.  This may seem namby-pamby or a cop-out to some, but it is actually a place of being from which right action emanates.  With gratitude rather than anger and hurt, we can de-link our actions from simple fight or flight responses and transcend to a higher level of action.  Of course, allowing time for reflective mental processing is essential for finding a third way, out of “reptilian” action-reaction.  When the instantaneously “easy” way is taken, and the “reptilian” brain runs our lives, “These are not special occasions.”

To learn, adapt, and grow, we need to be open to that which is new.  Humans have a special gift of conscious awareness and will or intent to aim and frame our experiences with a chosen attitude.  More simply put: expect to be pleasantly surprised.  Certainly, we are animals.  But more importantly, we are so much more than animals!

Posted in Poems, Political and Philosophical Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Infectious Hope

Hope is a blood-borne pathogen
The seed of martyrs
Inflaming that allergy to injustice
Present in us all
Infected by a singular epiphany
Of friend and foe
Alike

I see hope as an irreducible reality in human nature.  Just like “Truth, crushed to earth, will rise again” (William Cullen Bryant), hope is rooted in a realm that mere brute force or violence cannot destroy.  Even in the face of deep despair and generations of disappointment, hope finds its way into our hearts. Hope rises like an infectious weed, out of control of the powers that be that rely on violence to grasp onto control. Trying to describe hope reminds of the description of love in the movie Shakespeare in Love: “Like a sickness and its cure together.”  In this poem I use an analogy and metaphor of hope as an immune response by reality to injustice. Of course, viewing hope as an antidote or a poison or pathogen can be a matter of perspective.  In the face of objectively crappy situations, hope can be viewed more cynically as Pollyannish. The blood of martyrs can be seen as a tragic waste or as fuel for hope and resistance to injustice. Hopes indefatigable nature can elicit respect and well…more hope.  While I posit that hope has a mystical quality to it that cannot be banished, perhaps the closest I can get to capturing its essence is the last three lines of this poem where people are “infected” by a singular awareness that friend and foe are one, “alike.”   I see hope emerging and growing where this epiphany takes root.  For instance, I consider “Love your enemy as yourself” as Christianity’s greatest commandment.  Jesus upgraded the Old Testament’s “love your neighbor” with this greatest of spiritual challenges:

 “You have heard that it was said, `Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matthew 5:43-48, NIV)

This is the greatest spiritual genius that I have ever seen!  This strikes me as the most straightforward and simple way to encapsulate one of the most basic tensions in life: balancing self-interest with others’ interests.  By explicitly linking these two, Jesus harnesses, leverages, and even redeems, the powerfully dangerous psychological dynamics of egocentricity and selfishness.  No doubt, the trinity of hope, faith, and love is called upon to dare confront such a powerful challenge.  Of course, the genius and simplicity of this formulation doesn’t make it easy.  Though in it I find much hope, even infectious hope! 

Posted in Poems, Political and Philosophical Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Poetic License

One day I went to get my poetic license
I drove them crazy with their test
at the DMV
Perhaps next time I’ll try NASA

This poem reminds me of the scene in the movie, “Dead Poets Society,” where the teacher at an exclusive boy’s prep school, on the first day of class begins:

The teacher, Mr. Keating (played by Robin Williams) sits at his desk at the front of the classroom and opens up one of his books.

KEATING
Gentlemen, open your text to page
twenty-one of the introduction. Mr.
Perry, will you read the opening
paragraph of the preface, entitled
“Understanding Poetry”?

NEIL
Understanding Poetry, by Dr. J. Evans
Pritchard, Ph.D. To fully understand
poetry, we must first be fluent with
its meter, rhyme, and figures of speech.
Then ask two questions: One, how artfully
has the objective of the poem been
rendered, and two, how important is that
objective. Question one rates the poem’s
perfection, question two rates its
importance. And once these questions have
been answered, determining a poem’s
greatest becomes a relatively simple
matter.

Keating gets up from his desk and prepares to draw on the chalk board.

NEIL
If the poem’s score for perfection is
plotted along the horizontal of a graph,
and its importance is plotted on the
vertical, then calculating the total
area of the poem yields the measure of
its greatness.

Keating draws a corresponding graph on the board and the students
dutifully copy it down.

NEIL
A sonnet by Byron may score high on the
vertical, but only average on the
horizontal. A Shakespearean sonnet, on
the other hand, would score high both
horizontally and vertically, yielding a
massive total area, thereby revealing the
poem to be truly great. As you proceed
through the poetry in this book, practice
this rating method. As your ability to
evaluate poems in this matter grows, so
will – so will your enjoyment and
understanding of poetry.

Neil sets the book down and takes off his glasses. The student sitting
across from him is discretely trying to eat. Keating turns away from
the chalkboard with a smile.

KEATING
Excrement. That’s what I think of Mr. J.
Evans Pritchard. We’re not laying pipe,
we’re talking about poetry.

Mr. Keating then proceeds to instruct the students to tear the whole introductory chapter out of the book.  This peaks the interest of some of the students (and a little horror in others).

Of course, the heart of my poem pivots on the dual meaning and paradox of getting a “poetic license.”  A license is typically some form of certification or accreditation indicating that the applicant (they don’t just pass out licenses!) has successfully demonstrated adherence to prescribed rules based on the conventional wisdom of the era.  In contrast, “poetic license” refers to the freedom a poet takes in order create an artistic expression.

I view poetry as first art, and second science.  Now, to be fair, a fluency in linguistics can greatly aid one’s expression.  Nonetheless, if you put random words on a piece of paper and meditated upon them, strangely poetic relationships, phrases and themes would likely emerge (in the mind of someone).  In fact, this is one method to my madness.  Usually a poem is first born of a phrase or two that strikes me out of the ether of my life.  Then with a general theme, I associate related words, phrases and concepts.  Mining the infinite juxtapositions of puns, alliterations, metaphors and irony, characterizes my basic style of writing.  In my longer poems, I typically develop parallel narratives that are in tension, sometimes paradoxical.  Often there are several different ways to read a set of words or phrases, depending on punctuation and where one begins and/or ends the phrase/sentence.  This is why I often avoid punctuation and put short phrases or single words on a separate line.  This allows the reader to more freely experience the dance of associations and multiple meanings.  While my own basic point of view usually emerges with some clarity, sometimes by simply ending on a particular note, I definitely see truth as living in the neighborhood of paradox, and the struggle for and the balance of these tensions is at the heart of most of my poetry.  Poetry is less “laying pipe,” than flooding the reader with images and ideas, thoughts and feelings, that expand our consciousness and enrich our experience.  Of course, you are free to live by your own rules… 

Posted in About Top Pun, Poems | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Great Lawyer

Someone once told me
I’d make a good lawyer
Unfortunately
Even a great lawyer
Would raise their eyes
To a poet

As is the case with many of my poems, they are designed to have multiple interpretations, usually playing off one another or making a more robust point by addressing two facets in parallel.  This poem is no exception, though it may be exceptional.  The key phrase is “raise their eyes.”  This line could mean “look up to” in the sense of admiration or honor, or it could me “raise their eyebrows” to indicate disdain or disapproval.  The first meaning lifts up the poet; the second meaning brings disdain to the “great” lawyer.  Either way, the poet ends up in the higher position.  Of course, a poet courting someone is typically preferable to a lawyer courting someone.  Well, whatever suits you…

Posted in Poems | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Countless Dawnings

Countless Dawnings

Now
I find myself
In the middle
Of the night
Before futures tolled
Unfettered from the past
Heedless of tomorrow’s agenda
Yesterday’s experiences
Nothing but gleaned fuel
Abundantly supplying
Mediums in a peerless world
Wear darkness is my palette
Know more
Tripping on the nebulas way
Succor punching
Wholes in the heavens
Awl write
And shooting stars riding
In secret cold
Penned by unseen hands
Canvassing unreveled truths
Flat on my back
Breathless
Totally taken
As past away
And ceiling my fête
None
The less
Everything
A mirror
Comma,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Forty winks
Punctuating day dreams
As citizens in a vegetative state
RIP and twinkle
Care-less-ly
Showing up
One’s own
Wake
Twenty years
As no ordinary time travailer
No stock d’ohs
Without a hitch
Clearing acres
Of slumber
Beyond the vale
Hidden ’em where it counts
Each singular verse
Giving weigh
To many
And still
Bard
For what is
The zzz ‘neath
Awe experience
An eternal solace system
With mouthfuls of silence
As an udder
Constellation
Pries
Another knight’s
Stay
For its always
Midnight somewhere
As this orb it goes on and on
Though offed in the mourning forgotten
Wading again
Only to be
Interrupted by countless dawnings

I have long found waking hours in the middle of the night as inspiring.  I find these in-between hours as particularly special, since they seem to be free of normal daily routines and thoughts of tomorrow.  I am often struck with many interesting ideas, but unless I get a flood of them and get up to write them down, they are mostly lost to my consciousness by dawn.  There are many theories about why we need sleep and about dreaming.  I view sleep as a time when our body, mind and soul sorts and integrates our recent experiences to incorporate them into who we are.  The brain is actually very busy during sleep.  This doesn’t surprise me, since most of our existence is subconscious.  When was the last time you consciously digested a meal or made your heart beat in perfect rhythm?  Like I am prone to say, “The subconscious: it’s not what you think.”  I find great mystery in sleep and dreaming.  I do not have a firm idea about what dreaming is all about.  However, I sometimes wonder if the anxiety present in some dreams is due to the soul returning from a deeply peaceful place only to be confronted by the less peaceful realities of conscious human life.  I do prefer to dream while I’m awake, engaged with the world.  Still, those mystical experiences and epiphanies in the middle of the night provide fuel and inspiration for my waking life.

Posted in Poems, Political and Philosophical Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Terminal Terminology: Redefining CANCER

A recent news story about redefining cancer raises the issue of how powerful something becomes depending on what we call it.  In this case, I call it “terminal terminology.”  Cancer diagnosis and treatment is literally a growth industry.  About half of us will get a cancer diagnosis during our lifetime.  A cancer diagnosis raises the fear of death. Unfortunately, with increasingly detailed diagnostic technologies, many of the “cell abnormalities” detected have little, if any, clinical significance — except that it leads to patient stress and overtreatment, a major threat to well-being.

As CBS news reports it:

There has been a “dramatic increase in certain kinds of cancer like thyroid cancer [and] melanoma,” Dr. Agus said on “CBS This Morning,” “Almost a 200 percent increase over the last 35 years.”

The increase is due in part with new technology that is “allowing us diagnose many more cancers,” he explained. “The problem is many of these cancers are not ever going to cause a problem.”

“It’s like if you told a firefighter, ‘Go put out every fire, they’d be blowing water on tiki torches and candles when they don’t need to. It’s the same thing [with cancer]. Many of these cancers are so slow-growing, we need to redefine them.”

The risk of aggressive treatment of slow-growing cancers include unnecessarily undergoing “radical therapy” including surgery and radiation, treatments that could cause “lots of side effects when it’s not needed,” according to Agus.

“Lots of cancers…we don’t need to treat,” he said, citing certain types of thyroid and breast cancers among them, “The key is to treat the cancers we need to treat, so we need a new definition.”

Agus advises doctors to educate their patients about the range of treatment options available, so that patients fully understand potential side effects and ramifications and can weigh them against the risks of living with a slow-growing cancer.

Hopefully, reasonable clinical care will win the day over easy profits and hyperbolic reactions.  Of course, rationality often escapes the human experience.  Technically, the term for unexplained irrationality in the medical care system is “idiopathic idiopathy.”

Posted in Health, News, Political and Philosophical Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Work Week

One day I didn’t feel like going to work
Some people call them weekdays

This one goes out to all of you who feel, chronically and/or acutely, that going to work is, well…work.  I wouldn’t mind being the guy who was known for proposing the 3-hour work week.  My suggestion of a 3-hour work week is based on the concept, and with some experience, that working on average more than 45 minutes per day for four days per week is detrimental to human well-being.  Now, I define work as doing something you don’t want to do.  As the economic beings that we are often reduced to, this largely means those activities where we simply exchange your life energy for money — most people call them jobs, where you sell yourself to someone else — and shortchange your quality of life .  Of course, it could mean squashing spiders occupying your living space — which generally fits well into one’s 45-minute allotment.  No doubt, one of the handier practices in achieving a 3-hour work week, is learning to like what you do.  A version of this would be called Karma Yoga in Hinduism.  However, those of us living in Western civilization may be better able to relate to following our passions, structuring our life in such a way that our passions flow more freely.  Unfortunately, Westerners are socialized from birth to achieve security through money, and that money will give us freedom.  Perhaps the best illustration of why this doesn’t work can be had by simply observing Western culture over my lifetime (50-odd years — some would say very odd!).  For instance, the U.S. has over three times the material wealth that it had when I was born.  Also, a dream from those days, and perhaps these days still, is for increasing leisure, often brought about by technological advancement minimizing boring or routine tasks.  Well, this hasn’t happened.  In fact, Americans work longer work weeks than they did in recent generations — with the added “benefit” of having more household members selling themselves outside their home. We are no happier.  I suspect that a more workable solution to living consistent with our passions would be to downgrade the whole money gives us freedom thing and start with the question, “What would I do if money were not an issue?”

You may have noted that clustering the work over four days implies that at least three or more days a week should be free of work.  I see the practice of sabbath as essential to create and re-create our lives.  My own personal take on this progressive spiritual practice would be to take off every seventh year, every seventh month, every seventh day, every seventh minute, and every seventh second.  This represents the re-centering our lives around something other than “work” — read “money,” and practicing mindfulness at all times, in all that we do (or don’t do).  Plus, as an addendum to this progressive journey of sabbaths, I am partial to the Jewish concept of the year of jubilee practiced. The year of jubilee is a sabbath year of sabbath years (every 49th or 50th year), where property returns to its original owners, recognizing that God owns that land (and all), and serves to prevent accumulation and concentration of wealth due to the vagaries and greed of human life.  Making such a grand project a reality definitely provides a lot of work that I can be passionate about!

Posted in Poems, Political and Philosophical Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Incompetent Evil

I don’t care much for evil
I don’t care much for incompetence
Though when present together
Incompetence becomes a blessing

As in math, sometimes in morality, multiplying two negatives can produce some positive results.  There is at times some hope to be taken at the all too frequent observation that many stupid things happen in the world.  Specifically, there is hope to be drawn from evil actions accompanied by incompetence.  In this case, incompetence is an ally of the good, truncating evil, preventing it from manifesting its complete intent.  If you are an optimist such as I, you might even dare call this a blessing.

I like this short poem mostly because it illuminates perhaps the most fundamental division in human reality — physics and metaphysics, the mundane and the transcendent.  Physics is basically the realm of modern science, the sometimes uber-successful reductionistic approach characteristic of Western civilization.  Great advances have been made in understanding how the physical world works, the means of controlling the “outer” world, the so-called objectively real.  Modern science breaks things down to understand each of its constituent parts behaves (cause and effect) and how they interact with one another. Unfortunately, this is only the crudest form of how things work, and only “half” of the picture (in the sense of balance, not quantitatively).  At its worst scientific reductionism kills the whole to study the dead parts.  Dissecting a frog may produce a lot of knowledge but it does kill the frog.  Similarly, our quest for knowledge can kill life to study its lesser constituent parts.  Metaphysics is the opposite, the complement to reductionism, which studies life from the perspective of the relationship of the whole to the part, not the relationship of parts to each other.  Most people recognize that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts — due to humans’ metaphysical faculties.  Sadly, an overfocus on scientific reductionism has allowed our higher faculties to atrophy (use it or lose it!), and we literally cannot tell apart life from death.  My favorite example of the manifestation of this is our apparent inability to distinguish between human persons and corporate persons (which are famously said to be made up of human persons — well they got the “made up” part correct!).  When we can’t differentiate a human worker from a brick — reducing them both to “expenses” — we are in deep trouble as a human race!  We seem to be able to produce a lot of things, and cool stuff, but the art of human happiness seems resistant to such machinations — perhaps because we are not machines.  We need to strike a healthier, life-affirming balance between physics and metaphysics.  As often happens, the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. has said much of this much more succinctly:

“Science investigates; religion interprets. Science gives man knowledge which is power; religion gives man wisdom which is control. Science deals mainly with facts; religion deals mainly with values.  The two are not rivals. They are complementary.  Science keeps religion from sinking into the valley of crippling irrationalism and paralyzing obscurantism. Religion prevents science from falling into the marsh of obsolete materialism and moral nihilism.”

Posted in Poems, Political and Philosophical Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Mayfly

A Mayfly lives for a day
And thinks it is an eternity
There is a wisdom in nature

The eternal now is a gift that is often elusive to humans.  It seems that nature is more in sync with the eternal now, animals having a simple way of being and plants demonstrating a patient persistence.  May you fly for a day uplifted by nature’s wisdom…

Posted in Poems | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Barbarian Hordes

Only after building the wall
To keep the barbarian hordes out
Did I realize
That we are the barbarian hordes

Exclusion is the most barbarian practice.  Inclusion is the most enlightened practice.  To evolve in our humanity we need to move beyond our self.  Xenophobia, and its companion egocentricity, is a stubborn barrier to enlightenment.  Recognizing the oneness of all things is a spiritual practice that moves us out of an ego perspective.  As the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. put it:

“In a real sense all life is inter-related. All persons are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be, and you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the inter-related structure of reality.”

I am fascinated with meditating upon what I see as the most fundamental paradox of human reality, the juxtaposition of the oneness of reality with the “myriad of things.”  Of course, this apparent paradox is most pronounced, perhaps paradoxically, if one accepts no difference between anything.  My most clear and palpable retort to folks who assert that there is no difference between anything is to ponder a hypothetical punch in the nose — I avoid the actual punch in the nose because I believe that there is a difference between violence and nonviolence!  It seems that the post-enlightenment, modern scientific reductionism characterizing Western civilization lies silent, levelled if you will, stubbornly incapable of granting legitimacy (authority) to any difference or hierarchy, even though differences and hierarchies are omnipresent.  How do we move or evolve beyond the self-mutilation of scientific reductionism to a self-transcendence?  I am partial to E. F. Schumacher’s A Guide for the Perplexed, which I would highly recommend if you are perplexed in most any way.  On nugget in this regard:

There are physical facts which the bodily senses pick up, but there are also nonphysical facts which remain unnoticed unless the work of the senses is controlled and completed by certain “higher” faculties of the mind. Some of these nonphysical facts represent “grades of significance,” to use a term coined by G. N. M. Tyrrell, who gives the following illustration:

Take a book, for example. To an animal a book is merely a coloured shape. Any higher significance a book may hold lies above the level of its thought. And the book is a coloured shape; the animal is not wrong. To go a step higher, an uneducated savage may regard a book as a series of marks on paper. This is the book as seen on a higher level of significance than the animal’s, and one which corresponds to the savage’s level of thought. Again it is not wrong, only the book can mean more. It may mean a series of letters arranged according to certain rules. This is the book on a higher level of significance than the savage’s . . . . Or finally, on a still higher level, the book may be an expression of meaning…

In all these cases the “sense data” are the same; the facts given to the eye are identical. Not the eye, only the mind, can determine the “grade of significance.”

To make the grade and avoid continually devolving our humanity into some nihilistic cynicism where meaning can find no root in our being we might benefit from looking up to a higher power, living in an ever-higher perspective — and thousands of years of meditation on such things informs us that this should not involve looking down on our fellow beings.

Posted in Poems, Political and Philosophical Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Patriot

My name is patriot
I am a force to be reckoned with
That few dare oppose
Just tell me what country I live in
And I’ll know exactly how to behave

“Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel.” – Samuel Johnson

Patriotism typically runs into contradictions when patriots from different countries honestly compare notes. Inasmuch as patriotism is rooted in national interest to the exclusion of other nations’ national interests, conflict, violence and wars are inevitable.  This form of patriotism is simply nationalism.  I do believe in patriotism if it simply represents an appreciation and celebration of one’s particular place in life — such as geographic beauty, the particular people you know in face-to-face community in a particular place.  This Pablo Casals quote captures it well:

“The love of one’s country is a splendid thing. But why should love stop at the border?”

 

Posted in Poems | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

POEM: Pillar of the Community

I have a well-paid job
I am a captain of industry
I am a member of platinum circles
I am a pillar of the community
My name will live on
On plaques
And maybe a street
I need not
Pay the devil his due
For I’ve already been checked off his list

There is an African proverb: “Where there is no wealth there is no poverty.”  Many inhabitants of Western civilization have the notion that eliminating poverty comes from wealth.  Not true.  Eliminating poverty comes from sharing.  Without sharing, no amount of financial wealth can eliminate poverty.  The greed (anti-sharing) that accumulates financial wealth is a disease, of which poverty is a symptom.  As Jesus said, “No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.” (Matthew 6:24)  Make your choice — the devil has — and you decide which is the pillar of community.

Posted in Poems, Political and Philosophical Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment