POEM: Unfed Just Desserts

Poets are born, die, crushed by writer’s block or a cruel world, and are reborn again and again.  The world can be a desert at times, sometimes worse.  Yet, as a child, an infant in the arms of a mysterious universe that somehow cares for us, we are fed.  We launch ships and create beauty that remains largely unseen.  But, like the macaroni art that only a mother could love, we return to our source, a home, even if a home to no other; and we take a place of honor, as a sentinel on a doorway to that place where Mom’s food is stored.

Unfed Just Desserts

When I find myself
Unfed
I play
The child
Imaginary
Tea
Set
Against
Me
Still
Un-made
Fore
Solid food
Not with standing
In a world of
Make believe
Partial to
Anew born
Who finds their nourishment
Spewed about
Much to the dismay
Of those with
More mature tongues
And ingenious mines
No amount of trains or planes
Could carry the sustenance
I re-choir
Though utterly captivated
My self
I let out a powerful wail
Enough blubber
To endow
A thousand poor SOBs
Any mother knows what I’m talking about!
And I am herd
As I
Go on
Strike
An umbilical chord
Sending me to my womb
Wear a dinner awaits
Unserved in any dining room
Just desserts

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POEM: Can God Make A Billboard SO BIG That…

God is bigger than any box or labels we can imagine.  I think of those epic movie beginnings where the letters scroll across the whole screen, at most one at a time, so you really have to pay attention to read the words.  Can you imagine having to read an essay, poem or textbook about God that way?  Here is the poem un-capturing that:

I suspect that God is well practiced
At making bill boards so big
That we can’t read them from our ad vantage

 

 

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POEM: Nature’s Guardin’

This poem goes out to all those who showed up on May Day for the groundbreaking of Toledo Occupy the Garden.

Nature’s Guardin’

Nature spills
From pots unpurchased
It knows no law but its own
Openly heiring its dirty secrets
Breaching our wreck tangles
Finding its way
Under our nails
Mortar
Boards
Weeds reclaiming that which can never be lost
Even in death
Oddly giving
Life
It’s all a plot
And weave awe
Be planted
To be
A rested
Where there is no crime
Sow
Drop buy
The guardin’
Or leave no witnesses
So goes the weigh of nature

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POEM: I Suspect

Here is a May Day poem, where metaphysical optimism crashes into empirical skepticism.  Will we simply crash and burn?  Or, will we rise like a Phoenix from the ashes?  Stay tuned…

I suspect

I suspect
God is
The greatest
Un-detective
Just
Waiting
Wise
Cracking
Another Case
Wide
Open
As the whirled unrivals
As wee
Per severe
As we in cyst
In decisiveness
Receive only
A silent answer
Deifying the laws of gravity
What trail of clues
Could we possibly fallow
In too the forced?
A Candide house
In witch to live
Or worse yet, in ovens
Mere bread crumbs
Long the way
Consumed by others
In an inquisition
What could passibly be incite?
Like pop corn
Under cover
With more heat than light
Blowing our tops
Not taking know for an answer
Yielding
Nothing but
A mess haul
Leading know where
What more all fiber
We knead
Sow un-pallet-able die it
Doody-bound to ask, “Where’s the better?”
The haystack needles us
As a single blade of grass
Mysteriously cuts through our encyclopedic egos
Wet the hay!
Rudely ruminating
For an unherd of fourth tine
How can we stomach it?
We have a cow
To match our bull
Sterile and next to godliness
Making love
With a test tube and a bleaker
Open minds and vacant hearts
A terminal generation
Overcome by they’re first
Fore knowledge
Over looking
Clothesing one’s I’s
So unsightly
As life’s wizzed ’em
Over taken
Bypassed
Buy history
Doomed to replete it
Prospect us
With pre-science
And art
Beating
Like a conundrum
None the less
Dissecting all of life
Left
With a pile of tripe
As we complain of the stench
Of our own making
(Or un-making as the case may be)
If God were to show his face in this town
The lessen would certainly be learned
Love hurts
The hair of the dog
Banned
On the run
Never quiet feeling like homme
He would, in all probability, be epically misunderstood
From the powers that be down to a best friend
Likely murdered by both
A merciless alien power
And the icons of the culture he was born into
Un-Abel to walk unscathed through a crowd of birthers
For they couldn’t pick him out of a lineup
In the company of drunks, tax collectors, and fools
In a holding cell
Wading for some final trial
With a thousand co-Pilates and no one at the helm
Staging a mock revolution
Where the only truth is that
What goes around comes around
Accept some con-science
And the inevitable quest in
Beyond the reach of a court of laws
Some lurking undiscovered
Lost in a holey see of overlooked graces
Born free
So far from home
In one’s living room
A naiveté of a starless night
On the out in an inn-less locale
Only there for another’s senses
Borne stuffed
To the rafters
Full of hay
Only longing
To be assistant manger
Nothing more
Than what thou dust
Surrounded by animals
Where the “nays” have it
Guilty by dissociation
Given birth
By an absentee father
The biggest mother of all
I suspect
Not countering upon
The distracted
The brutalized
And hard working skeptics
Unresigned to forest labor
Sisyphean mountaintops
Out to sea
Beyond the vale
Beyond damn nations
Willing
To pay the fined
The greatest miracles unearth

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POEM: Not Unlike Hope

Here is a poem about hope, sometimes on the run, sometimes on the lam.  Hope is never lost, and hope often lurks in sometimes unrespectable places. This poem has plenty of puns, hidden jewels, drama, chase scenes, and victorious poetry.  Enjoy!

Not Unlike Hope

Take heart
Breaking news
Hope is believed to be
Residing in an undisclosed location
The authorities have undertaken
To apprehend hope
Dead if need be
Vowing to devote all needed resources
To the hunt
For citizens
Good
Neighbors
Turning in
Suspicious
Character
Turning out
En masse
Lady Justice
Courting
Blindly
Dated
Expects her clues so
Much like a pink panther
Only rarer
Insulated by specious arguments
A trade mark
To protect and serve
Up
The last
Ne’er do well
Un-till
Hope rears
Her ugly head
Once
More
Only aft her
Out laud
In the vicinity of
Lincoln and MLK Way
Where the scufflawless meet
The police force
O Captain! My Captain!
Flailing too
Resolve
Issue
Press
Release
Dashing
Up the poetry
As we cooly add verse
Shelling out what is ode
And the sonnet rises
Not unlike hope

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POEM: My Heart Breaks Daily

Life is messy.  Compassion is messy.  Acting in the world in a way that is congruent with one’s broken and breaking heart is a challenge.  A challenge to the actor, and a challenge to those in the world witnessing and trying to make sense of one’s acts.  Here is a short poem about such heartbreaking action:

My heart breaks daily
Spilling out into the streets
And other public places.
The authorities instruct me
To clean it up.

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POEM: A Mother’s Nature

This poem did not exist a few hours ago.  I was interrupted by a thought (captured in the first few lines) and I took the time to jot them down.  Seconds turned to hours as the muse is a taskmaster second to none!  The harm we are doing to our planet haunts me.  Meditating upon the good nature of a higher power helps center me while on a planet where cynicism flows freely.  I am powerless over the creative powers.  This is a good thing!  I stand in awe.  I will stand to protect our planet.  Enjoy!

A Mother’s Nature

Mother Nature is relentless
Like our best dreams
Unlike the monster one step behind us
And gaining
She will do us no harm
Patiently waiting
For her children to return
To the home she has fashioned
Never out of style
Yet oft forgotten
Too few admitting to such a hospitality
Taking the mantle of patients
Picturing her children’s development
Framed by her own love
Razed buy edifice complexes
No matter how
She made them field
And forced unmatched
Given freely verses
Accrued credo
Never to retreat
With receding heir lines
Lured into orphanages
Buy counterfeit presents
That no’s no currency
Now
Giving no quarter to a homme-less mom
A mirror sham to couch their shame
Forging the future
A bode
Swayed by unnatural winds
A backwards whirled
A lost race
Imitating won another
They could get no flatter
In the crush of by-gone dates
Rapt over and over
For what they ware
Gripped by un-void-able cells
Phony sustenance
Quiet a pare
The elusive wons and zeroes
Forming a mock 10
Sow quickly barren
Fake breasts
Seduced into beating
A psycho-path to
Unending litter
Mine-ing anything and everything
That would
Make steal
Throbbing from a mother’s chest
Hearts trumped
Up on false charges
Beating the rap
A single ruse
On Mother’s Day know less!
As she goes
About her business
Miss taken
Scores of prodigal children
A fatherless brood
Ever digging that irony
Any bogus meddle will doo
Pinned to their empty chests
Never wandering up ponder
All is dwell that ends dwell
Wee awe
End up
In hour
Birth place
Returning too
One’s native
Land
Taken
In
Buy
Mother Nature
By awe accounts
Receivable
How can it be
That she is
Unscarred
By us?
There is no sphere
Like hers

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POEM: O Children of Mother Earth, Arise!

This poem has emanated from my musings about the oil tar sands in Canada.  The extraction of these oil tar sands, in some of the most pristine parts of North America, is the largest single scarring of Mother Earth ever undertaken by human-unkind.  It seems that our oil addiction has us scraping the last drops of oil from the planet, squandering nature’s wealth — our children’s children’s inheritance — and polluting Mother Earth which sustains our very life.  Greed is the most dangerous enemy of sharing a planet together.  I hope that people from locales all over the earth rise up and protect Mother Earth from the many assaults on her.  As for my Toledo friends, you can check out and join Occupy Toledo’s resistance to oil tar sands being processed here at the BP refinery.  Think globally, act locally — that’s local, not loco!

O Children of Mother Earth, Arise!

Listen, O children of Mother Earth!
Hear, those who have ears
Hear the streams of clean water, our tributaries of life
Hear the streams of cars and trucks dirtying the air we breathe
See, O children of Mother Earth!
See, those who have eyes
See the beauty of fields and forests, mountains and meadows
See the scars of strip mines and cesspools of toxins
Smell, O children of Mother Earth!
Smell, those who have noses
Smell the fragrance of wildflowers and gardens
Smell the stench of oil and coal combustion, and chemical cocktails concocted
Reach out and touch, O children of Mother Earth!
Reach out and touch, those who have hands
Reach out and touch the soil and sun which fuels nature’s bounty
Reach out and touch the concrete and landfills, the Alpha and Omega of so-called “progress”
Taste, O children of Mother Earth!
Taste, those who have mouths
Taste the fruits of her plenty, enough for all
Taste the bitterness of her children’s petty scarcity, robbing brother and sister
Feel, O children of Mother Earth!
Feel, those who have hearts
Feel the call of nature
Feel the greed of those who would of nature relieve themselves
Speak, O children of Mother Earth!
Speak, those who have tongues
Speak of the splendor of a Mother’s care
Speak of the horror of an orphaned race
Arise, every living creature, O children of Mother Earth!
Return to her lap, and breast, and arms
Turn away from her desecration
Take your rightful place, to neither rule from above nor rule from below
Work side by side
Play together
Live neighborly
For we share the same fate
Whether we share or not
O children of Mother Earth

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POEM: Chicago Transit Authority and Me – 147 to 4

I recently spent the week in Chicago while my Dad was in the hospital for major surgery.  Travelling back and forth from the hospital involved going about 110 blocks on two busses, from the north end of downtown to the south end of downtown.  Depending on the time of day and how long I had to wait for the busses, this trip took between one hour and 15 minutes and 2 hours and 15 minutes.  Riding the bus is a great way to observe the life of commuters and just plain folks in Chicago.  I wrote most of this poem while riding the bus.  Enjoy!

Chicago Transit Authority and Me – 147 to 4

Workers
Shoppers
Students
Students of life
Ride the bus
Make it a double!
The daily double
An express
Oh, to the heart of civilization
Such congested arteries art
A tact rendering society’s very core
Any falling short
In efficiency
Made up
Even odds
Run over by effectiveness
Pilings of people
Towering foundations
Things looking up
People looking down
In a windy city
Going bussed
Reaching a critical mass
Together experiencing the unspeakable
Connected somewhere else
Razing dreams
Of brighter palms
Too due lists
Play lists
Songs sung by someone else
Left only wanting
More Gigs
Beating the hum drum
“I pod people”
“I pod people”
Over and over
Over and out
Still
Now
Faster tablets
The magna carta of a new millennium
An ever-expanding tabula rasa
Living on
Cloud nein
Mean wile
The poor stare into their cells
The porous of all
A remnant grasps
To trees gone by
Scrawled by the prints of modernity
Pulp
Fiction
Yesterday’s news
Tomorrow’s prognostications
Today’s storyteller
Only lessor is
Standing still to arrive
The man clutching only to his bar
Drinking in
His river
As life passes by
Close enough to touch
Surrounded by a stream of cars
Never the same twice
Day after day
Some for hire
Some already bought and sold
Thankful to have a job
Washing windows in the rain
Making umbrellas while it suns
Trafficking in
The city
Flashy lights tell us what to do
And what not to do
Saying when
Hoping to get off
Before it is too late
Surveying
A single bird
Twittering
Nothing to see here
Don’t flip out
Dreading a park
Backs to the shoreline
Fending off the source
From still waters
Of a nameless state
Well
Beyond the horizon
Sales trimmed
Passed what you can’t afford
Not too due
Drive on, fare people!
Fear not what you miss
For there comes an other
Echoing in eternity
Dozens of stories
To be tolled
Countless more
To be ridden
Far too many
On a shelf
A mobile library
Where audience and author
Miss unparalleled appointments
I’s that seldom meet
Idle business
Wasted time for sum
A riders’ workshop for others
So many blocks
So few children to play with
Un-no-ing
Silently groan up
Wonting to be scene
Not herd
With plenty of space to ponder
Who is passing who?
Encyclical roll reversals
At times
Like
A living museum
Enriching the observer
In the presents
Of the seeming mortified
Weather paying a tension or not
Life will take you places
Each doing the bus they can
Out look
Fare to excellent
Many more waiting
On the streets
To be
Or not to be
Full, filled
Contracting countless riders
From ashes to ashes
From dust to dust
Only to return to where we came from
It’s enough to make won
A little loopy
Accept to know
That one
Awe ready
Has arrived

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Just Eating For Life: New Web Site

I have been interested in nutrition pretty much my whole adult life.  This started out from a concern for world hunger and stewardship of our natural resources, as well has an interest in nutrition and health.  I became a vegetarian and took a nutrition class as a freshman in college in 1980.

I eventually went on to get a bachelors of science degree in biology from Hope College in 1983.  I also earned a Master’s degree in public health nutrition from the University of Michigan School of Public Health in 1985.  I first worked as a nutritionist in a health and nutrition center operated by a progressive physician as a business and an adjunct to his private practice.  Then, I work as a health educator in a community health center, utilizing my skills in public health and nutrition quite actively.  Then,  I spent a decade working on HIV/AIDS through a local health department, not utilizing my nutrition knowledge very actively.  After this, I spent several years working as a health planner, covering a whole host of public health issues, nutrition only been part of this.  Then, for something completely different, I started my own business, Top Pun.com, which I have done for the last decade, which has virtually nothing to do with public health nutrition.

It’s time to get back into the nutrition game.  I’ve always maintained my interest in nutrition, and I have done a fair job of keeping up with nutritional science advances over the years.  The idea of teaching a community nutrition class has been brewing in my mind for several years now.  However, recently, with a series of awarenesses related to nutrition, as well as a number of significant changes in my own nutritional practices, I have decided to create a website, Just Eating for Life, and actively pursue creating a series of community nutrition courses, ranging from simple one-time lectures to longer more involved courses which entail active behavior change strategies as well as the steroidal increase in nutrition knowledge.

Hopefully, the gift of me being seriously under-employed will benefit the world.  Of course, I will enjoy it immensely, either way.  So, let the games begin!

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FREE POSTER: MLK I Have a Dream, Obama I Have Drone

To celebrate the legacy of peace and justice of Martin Luther King, Jr. this upcoming MLK Day 2013, I have designed this free downloadable poster: “MLK I Have a Dream, Obama I Have Drone”

You can download this free 8-1/2 X 11″ Martin Luther King Poster – “MLK Dream, Obama Drone” here

Download Free Martin Luther King Obama Poster

This Martin Luther King Jr. design is a little edgier than many of my MLK designs.  However, in meditating upon our upcoming local MLK celebrations in Toledo, Ohio, I recognize that the profound edginess of MLK’s body of work for peace and justice is often turned into some kind of namby-pamby niceness and abstraction of pure intentions.  Of course, this overlooks the hard-core and often very unpopular work that MLK conducted.  I was extremely disappointed, as were so many others, when President Obama gave his acceptance speech for the Nobel Peace Prize.  While Mr. Obama typically finely targets his fine rhetoric to his audience, his speech to the largely pacifist aficionados of the Nobel Peace Prize was nothing less than crude apologetics for violence.  Unfortunately, Mr. Obama’s rhetoric has been fully incarnated into deadly policy with his escalation of killer drones initiated by Pres. George W. Bush.

I plan on passing out free buttons to participants of our local MLK celebration.  I expect that many people will be a little reluctant at the harsh juxtaposition of Martin Luther King Jr. and his idealistic and famous “I have a dream speech” with President Obama’s droning on with killer strikes, raining death on mostly civilians and often children. Mr. Obama’s killer drone strikes is perhaps this millennium’s best example (so far) of a blatant violation of international law and national sovereignty.

The timely and timeless question: what would MLK do?  Is appropriate especially for MLK Day, and every day in 2013.  What say you?

View Martin Luther King, Jr. designs (available on buttons-pin, T-shirts, stickers, bumper stickers, caps, mugs and more)

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FREE Bradley Manning with purchase of large drink – Free Poster

I hope that you enjoy this free mini-poster: FREE Bradley Manning with purchase of large drink.  You can download a PDF version here: FREE Bradley Manning with Purchase of Large Drink PRINTABLE POSTER.  I enjoy juxtapositioning seemingly unrelated things to create funny, that is, seriously funny, political commentary.  I hope this helps spur the interest of people who may not be attracted at first to serious issues but can be drawn into learning more when disarmed with humor.  To learn more about Bradley Manning, click here.

FREE Bradley Manning with purchase of large drink

Click here for the latest cool free Top Pun stuff.

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POEM: Universe So Vast

I once asked God
Why did you make the universe so vast?
What were you possibly thinking?
And God said
I was kind of hoping
To have enough room
For all of the poetry yet to be written

This is a poet’s poem, in case you didn’t know it.  The universe is vast, mind-bogglingly vast.  There seems to be so much empty space, and so little to fill it.  The overwhelming majority of this space is cold, near absolute zero; and the warmth of life seems too sparse to not ask some hard questions.  The anthropic principle, “that observations of the physical universe must be compatible with the conscious life that observes it,” also suggests in its vast mathematical underpinnings that these vast amounts of space may be necessary for life to exist.  Also, humans, and human consciousness, is fittingly right in the middle of the logarithmic scale of the universe, between  the scale of subatomic “particles” and astronomical distances measured in light years.  Surely, this is an ideal perch for poets, equidistant from the mysterious veil of quantum wonders uncertain and the ponderous views of an apparently infinite universe.  And at the heart of it all, “get a job!”  And what a job the poets have: to fill the universe with poetry!

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POEM: Slow Boat to China

Some days
I feel like
I’m on
A slow boat
To China
Then it hits me
More like
Being water boarded
In America

My life is generally at a pretty relaxed pace, and with this I have no complaints.  However, when I look at the state of the world, it seems that we are amidst an excruciatingly long process characterized by a big dose of denial and a shockingly resilient lack of self-awareness on the way to a place I’m sure that not very many people actually want to go.  I like the China reference in the slow boat to China phrase, because the conventional wisdom seems to be that the Chinese culture and economy is a juggernaut, not a particularly desirable one, but probably one that has to be emulated in the race to the bottom.  And, as they say: “If you keep going the same direction, you’ll end up where you’re headed.”  In the battle to maintain a positive consciousness in what seems to be a herd of lemmings heading toward a cliff, occasionally this experience fits the old war adage: hours of boredom punctuated by sheer terror.  However, when the terror and torture hits, it is increasingly in the states, both blue and red (also states of mind), as opposed to overseas.  For what we send out into the world eventually comes home to roost.  Unfortunately, terror is a brother to fascism (though I am not sure which one is the big brother).  So, how does one cope when waterboarding comes to America?  I’m guessing that the answer involves more than just surfing the internet…

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Criminal Trespass: Killer Drones OR Protesting Killer Drones?

In order to welcome Vice President Joe Biden to the University of Toledo campus on the morning of October 23, 2012, for a campaign stop, I placed numerous sets of small label stickers saying, “STOP DRONE KILLINGS”, STOP WAR”, “DRONE KILLINGS PERPETUATE TERRORISM” on poles, and several [STOP] WAR stickers on STOP signs in the vicinity of the UT student union where he will be speaking.  An alert UT student, complaining of such grievous offenses, called the authorities.  No, he did not call President Obama or the Defense Department, to complain about drone killings; but rather, he called the campus police.  I was greeted by not one, not two, but three patrol cars.  I could see a certain eagerness in the UT policemen’s eyes; however, I misjudged this at first, as them largely wanting to thank me as a job creator, as I had clearly created so much work for them.  After about a half hour typing stuff into their computer, consulting with their supervisor, and writing stuff down, I was awarded a citation for trespass.  Now, this is the first citation I have received from a prestigious university, so I thought that it may merit going on my resume.  Unfortunately, it is actually only a warning, banning me from all UT campuses, including their medical center.  Apparently, this ban is for life, either of me, the University of Toledo, or the time-space continuum [editor’s note: this may actually be better termed “banned for anti-death”].  Further, upon closer inspection, if and when I violate their campus, I will be guilty of a fourth degree misdemeanor.  So, in the end, I failed to even trigger the third degree from the campus cops.  I asked the UT officer if they had any particular protocol or details related to the vice president’s visit.  The answer was “No” — but, hey, the Secret Service sure are sticklers for details, not so much details for sticklers.  Fortunately, the UT campus police did serve up a diet high in irony; which brings us to the question of the day:

Is violating the sovereignty of an ally nation, such as Pakistan, who has specifically instructed us not to trespass on their territory with unmanned killer drones, a case of criminal trespass?  Many believe it is!  Nonetheless, what legal actions have United States of America been subject to for such a case of criminal trespass?  That remains fuzzy.  However, what is now entirely clear, is that a citizen of the United States of America who protests the launching of these killer drones by placing small paper stickers on light poles and stop signs constitutes criminal trespass.  Hopefully, someday the rule of law will cover the big-ticket items as well.  Perhaps the real question for the day is: how many everyday people will need to be arrested before the big crooks of this world see justice?  I, for one, intend to find out.

P.S. In case you are keeping score — International War Crimes Tribunal: 0; Littering: 1.

If you are interesting in doing your own stickering, here is a great place to get inexpensive, bulk stickers.

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POEM: I am

The other day I got kicked out
Of an atheist’s club
Told in no uncertain terms
There is science
And no other!
And I am left
To wonder
Wow, where did that come from?!
I was raised
A Christian
A long story (some may say tall)
Which makes some short
Red chapters
Heavenly verse
To love
One, an other
To bless
Not curse
A Palestinian Jew
Named Jesus
We could do much worse!
I once heard a Muslim
Of five pillars he spoke
Coming down to One
And as a Muslim
I woke
Then along came Buddha
Who said: “Don’t follow me,
Experience it first!”
Which made me want to follow
This unslakable thirst
To find compassion and justice
A home
Here on this suffering Earth
A little man
Named Gandhi
To kingdoms united
He spoke
I am
A Hindu
A Christian
A Muslim
A Jew
And undoubtedly a Sikh he
So many will accuse
Well
Me too!

I have considered myself a theological mutt as long as I can remember.  While I have never found a home in atheism, I have a deep appreciation for those who have rejected theism when they experience theistic followers as extremely unwelcoming and exclusive.  Probably one of my most basic theological beliefs is that God is love, and that God’s love is unconditional.  I find it difficult to imagine such a “condition” that is any more inclusive!  This wreaks havoc on virtually every conventional way of thinking.  This is one of the major reasons why I consider spirituality as countercultural.  A healthy spirituality is constantly turning up statist views of reality and human conditions.  I see spirituality as basically a struggle of life over death.  How does one enliven, incarnate, the inanimate matter that is the object of science (there is no subject in science!)?  I don’t see differences of opinion around spirituality primarily as theists versus atheist, but rather as fundamentalists versus welcoming dynamicists.      In the myriad world of either/or propositions, the dynamicists welcome the answer of “YES!”, as opposed to “this, “that,” or “yes, but.”  Or, more simply put, does it enhance living?  Unfortunately, living in this both/and world can be quite disconcerting for those demanding hard endpoints or absolute certainty — which are dangerous to coming to healthy terms with the irreducible uncertainties of life.  In theological terms, this would probably be called process theology, where: “it is an essential attribute of God to be fully involved in and affected by temporal processes, an idea that conflicts with traditional forms of theism that hold God to be in all respects non-temporal (eternal), unchanging (immutable), and unaffected by the world (impassible). Process theology does not deny that God is in some respects eternal, immutable, and impassible, but it contradicts the classical view by insisting that God is in some respects temporal, mutable, and passible.”  But enough theology, suffice it to say that I believe that fundamentalism is a death knell for healthy spirituality and a living religion.  Perhaps ironically, I don’t see that atheism has done any better of a job than theism of minimizing fundamentalism.  I don’t see much difference between militant atheists and fundamentalist religionists.

But, alas, such debate has being going on for millennia, and with much dissatisfaction; so I would propose that the dividing line can be summed up by the attitudes represented in one’s response to this statement by Albert Einstein: “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”  Or, to frame it somewhat differently, when Einstein was asked what the most important question that a human being could ask is, he answered: “Is the universe friendly?”  I don’t know if this question is answerable in some ultimate, final sense, but I do know that I can vote for the universe being friendly, and make the universe a little more friendly, by practicing kindness.  And the gratitude manifest by seeing everything as a miracle helps empower me to behave kindly.  But, you be the judge…or not.

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POEM: Entitled to be Untitled

Your life is a work of art
Entitled to be untitled

Your life is beautiful.  Your life is a work of art.  Your life cannot be reduced to a thing; it is irreducibly mysterious.  Any label is inadequate.  I have an ever-growing appreciation that people are eccentric, a unique and eclectic collection of gloriously contradictory characteristics. If you don’t believe that someone is eccentric, then you probably don’t know them well enough!  So, whatever you call me…don’t call me late for dinner!

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POEM: A Taste for Happiness

Dining with Kings and Queens
Courtly balls
Knightly duels
And priestly indulgences
You can avoid it all
If only you are happy
Eating beans

This short poem goes out to all of those people who feel conflicted about all the contradictions in politics, especially during election season; contradictions about power and so-called “lesser evils.”  I find great comfort and happiness in the project of simplifying my life.  When it comes to politics and doing the right thing, I believe that the complexity of Western civilization offers a vast array of temptations to disorder our collective lives by mis-ordering our values.  In this regard, I see the value of simplification as keeping in proper order and priority a relatively few core values, and not letting these values be undercut by however tempting sophistication, pomp, and circumstance.  On a more practical note, I believe that leading a simple lifestyle materially is a great aid in minimizing the myriad of temptations to introduce personal bias into issues of power and control.  The simple fact is that the less we require materially, the less that our spiritual resources and spiritual center will be challenged by material needs.

This poem was inspired by a Sufi story of Nasrudin who is eating a poor man’s diet of chickpeas and bread.  His neighbor, who also claimed to be a wise man, was living in a grand house and dining on sumptuous meals provided by the Emperor himself.  His neighbor told Nasrudin, “if only you would learn to flatter the Emperor and be subservient like I do, you would not have to live on chickpeas and bread.”  Nasrudin replied, “and if only you would learn to live on chickpeas and bread, like I do, you would not have to flatter and live subservient to the Emperor.”

Maybe you don’t think this story is worth beans.  Maybe this poem, my two cents, seems irrelevant.  But, I am in good company:

“Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.  Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, ‘Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others.  They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.’ ” (Mark 12:41-44, NIV)

Do not be deceived: wealth and poverty, power and politics, is not about money and its many denominations; it’s about something much deeper, much richer.

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POEM: Spiritual Economy

The other day I went to my spiritual economist
She had already been in receipt of my stack of papers
I spoke at some length and detail
She noted that I have much that I can not afford
She advised that I do the things that I can’t afford not to do
Perhaps I’ll make a note of that

The world has a glut of financial advisors.  And most of the field of financial advising is awash in the stale conventional wisdom of materialism.  This short poem alludes to going to a somewhat different type of advisor.  Though not necessarily the life coaches of the day that can only be afforded by the wealthy.  Instead, in addressing one’s spiritual economy, the adviser shifts the focus from those things which one cannot afford to those things which one can’t afford not to do.  Given the busy lives that most of us leave, the urgent favors the important. Of course, the most important things in our lives are those that if we don’t do them, then we would either experience substantial harm or miss out on substantial benefit.  What exactly those things are can be very personal — not usually something related to making a buck, or something that requires a lot of money.  It may be writing that poetry that you always wanted to write.  It may be looking up an old friend and reconnecting. It’s a question that you alone can answer.  And there are precious few people who get paid to even ask such questions, let alone answer them.  But, if you’re fortunate enough to identify some of the things you can’t afford not to do, and these things bring a smile of anticipation, you are definitely on the right track.

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POEM: Bull Shit

There are two things I know for sure
One, I am way too old for this bull shit
Two, I am way too young for this bull shit
Okay, it’s more
Like one thing

In my college freshman english class, I wrote an essay where I quoted Ernest Hemingway, “The most essential gift for a good writer is a built-in, shock-proof, shit detector.”  In a weird twist of irony, my professor thought that I made this up, that it was bull shit. Even more ironic, running into people who see the truth as bull shit seems to be as common of an impediment in life as encountering people who see bull shit as the truth.  There seems to be a large supply of denial available for coping with inconvenient truths.  Also, it seems that cognitive dissonance plays a large role in people sticking to bull shit beliefs even when facing fairly accessible truths.  It seems that the economy of the mind finds it much more efficient to jettison inconvenient truths if accepting them requires a substantial amount of reworking one’s own thinking.  I suspect that most of us are old enough to be capable to see through most of the bull shit flying about.  Hopefully, most of us are young enough to reject the lazy ease of settling for a world where bull shit is often the foundation of our reality.

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