tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-125862592024-03-07T10:47:50.861-08:00The World Belongs to YouThis is a tiny documentation of my spiral journey, the mosaic of experiences that emerge from the fabric of my life. Some poetry, some essays, some photos. Thank you for reading. If it is art, then may it inspire you to do your own art in whatever form it takes. Life is fleeting, truly a bubble in a stream. I want this to be an offering as we swiftly dance downstream together.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.comBlogger163125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-30687210453312628102018-03-18T14:03:00.000-07:002018-03-18T14:03:09.947-07:00democratic evolution<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">After a long exhale, a space for introspection, I'm back on this blog. If you noticed and wondered, then I'm sorry I've been away for so long. If not, you're probably in the majority. Thanks for all you've been doing since we last spoke. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's been a hard year. I have a strong suspicion it's been a hard year for you. Whatever your political stripe, I imagine that as you look at the state of the world, it strikes you that we're putting ourselves in a pretty tight bind, a spiral that seems to point down. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I get several emails a day to sign petitions for liberal causes, from saving whales to protecting rainforests (still!) to sending strongly worded letters to dictators at home and abroad. Recently I've even been asked to "denounce" politicians for a particular action or lack of it, for a phrase they said or failed to say at a key time. Denounce? Really? It feels uncomfortably close to the Cultural Revolution or to the work of the Khmer Rouge. If only we can purge the resistance, then the revolution will be gloriously actualized...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I wrestle a lot with what is at the heart of our current conflicts. I hear a lot of focus on the President and a handful of nefarious senators. But is it really owing to our dubious leadership in all branches of government? Is everything just a wave of sunshine and roses and bulldog puppies waiting to cascade over the land if we could only get a few old white men out of the way? Or would replacing key leaders only lay bare a deeper level of dissonance and turmoil? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I wonder how much the untenability of our civilization is beginning to settle in, to shade more and more of how we see the world, even if just in our subconscious. We are so big, in America for sure but pretty much everywhere else in the world as well. 7.5 billion and counting, we are bursting at the seams and in need of food, water, and security. We're drilling deeper, decapitating more mountains, and engineering new ways to extract fossil fuels wherever they may lie in trace amounts. We're connected more and more in a global web of interdependence, that reaches into all elements of the biosphere and may soon reach into space (God help us). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And at the same time that we're binding ourselves together, it seems that we have revealed how much we're <i>not </i>on the same page about democracy, civil society, individual liberties, and the right of minorities to live in peace. In particular, I'm saddened by the more bald-faced attempts to curb democratic participation - <b>voting</b> - in various states in the U.S., and by the blind eyes of those who benefit from purging voter rolls, gerrymandering skewed districts, or launching red herring campaigns to distract from real interference in elections. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'll make a generous description and say that America has a history of flawed but heart-felt efforts at making democracy work. We kicked and screamed, but eventually got to places where the significant majority of people were able to participate in the government viz-a-viz voting and holding positions of power. We seemed to be on an unending, albeit slow, path to dismantling any institutional blocks that keep people from exercising their power as citizens. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the past two years, however, I've been deeply troubled by the shameless attempts of political oligarchs (mainly Republicans, though I don't doubt that Democrats might have reached the same place themselves under different circumstances) to arrest and impede democracy itself in order to maintain their own power in perpetuity. A fundamental question arises for me: what do you do when you are trapped in a country with others who don't value democracy, or points of view different from their own, and are willing to bypass and dismantle the democracy itself to keep their power? We see it happen in the developing world all the time. We call them dictatorships, juntas, or oligarchies. Do we think it can't happen here?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We seem very interested in having an uninterrupted stream of products delivered to our doorsteps at low prices. We are anxious to get the whole planet equipped with wi-fi. We love seeing how many games Google's latest AI can master in a short period of time. But how do we learn to love a functional society so much that we put energy into stewarding it? Where do we begin? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm not sure that a democracy as large as ours is even tenable anymore. Just take my home state of Pennsylvania. How much do white farmers in the middle of the state feel they have in common with black residents of Philadelphia and Pittsburgh? How big is too big of an area to group everyone together in one electoral base? What do we do if we're trapped in a political unit like a city or state with folks who just don't value the same things we do (freedom of gender expression, views on abortion rights, letting non-white people vote)? Where is the overlap on the venn diagram sufficient to let us begin to cooperate again? What do we do when someone who is tribal, ethnocentric, and chauvinist can get into a high office? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">These are vital questions to reflect on. It is clear that dictators around the world (and the men with guns who support them) don't value participatory government. And I think as Americans we are not as exceptional as many folks think. America is not an inevitably successful experiment. We have struggled all along these past 250 years, and are deep in struggle now. As the dominant force shaping the planet, how we choose to organize ourselves and take action will determine our future. Would you run a sports team, a research lab, or a business where 50.1% of the people were entrenched in opposition to the other 49.9% and they forcible took turns stealing leadership positions from each other? Sounds like hell to me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">How do we go beyond a nasty last-man-standing slugfest each election, with a narrow win and shaming the loser, to a society where we can relax at least a bit knowing that governance is something other than doling out revenge on those who have the audacity to value things differently than we do? </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-1311945983742043772017-04-01T07:17:00.002-07:002017-04-01T07:17:36.087-07:00poetics of changing home<u><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></u>
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<u><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">On Quitting a Little College</span></u><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">By footworn boards, by steps</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">that sagged years after the pride of workmen,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">by things that had to <i>do</i> so long they now seemed right,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">by ways of acting so old they grooved the people</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">(and all this among fields that never quit</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">under a patient sky),</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I taught. And then I quit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"Let's walk home," the president said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">He faced down the street,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">and on the rollers of bird flight</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">through the year-round air</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">that little town became all it had promised him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">He could not quit; he could not let go fast enough;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">his duties carried him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The bitter habit of the forlorn cause</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">is my addiction. I miss it now, but face</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">ahead and go in my own way</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">toward my own place.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">- William Stafford</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><u>In Silence</u></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Be still.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Listen to the stones of the wall.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Be silent, they try</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">to speak your</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">name.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Listen</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">to the living walls.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Who are you?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Who</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">are you? Whose</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">silence are you?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Who (be quiet)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">are you (as they stones</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">are quiet). Do not</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">think of what you are</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">still less of</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">what you may one day be.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Rather</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">be what you are (but who?)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">be the unthinkable one</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">you do not know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">O be still, while</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">you are still alive,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">and all things live around you</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">speaking (I do not hear)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">to your own being,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">speaking by the unknown</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">that is in you and in themselves.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"I will try, like them</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">to be my own silence:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">and this is difficult. The whole</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">world is secretly on fire. The stones</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">burn, even the stones they burn me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">How can a man be still or </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">listen to all things burning?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">How can he dare to sit with them</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">when all their silence is on fire?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">- Thomas Merton</span><br />
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<u><span style="font-size: large;">Leaving the Catskills on the Cusp of Spring</span></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Coming on tumbling</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">this is how it begins again,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">a rusty truck headed somewhere,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">a potter's hands</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">centering the timely clay. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Loving and rambling,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">the crisp edges of these mountains </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">have held always me</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">on home ways.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Returning to meandering,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">finally tuned to a compass</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">not too tight,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">all the glass shapes</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">are taking their places.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Stepping into changing,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">the pine wind of these last mornings</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">is wheeling and aboriginal,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">a now sound </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">full of soon-to-be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Pausing before the knob,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">memories of old doors</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">are less important</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">than the vital breath and click</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">of this harmonizing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Singing between my cells,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">dead ash trees lean through the forest</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">and maple buds wait-push through</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">passing gray days...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">we're pouring into invisible molds</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">all the fine joy atoms</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">that electrify our questions</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">beneath the encumbered surfaces. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dripping from rooftops,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">the eaves catch roasting coffee</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">against crackled paint. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Daffodils, dressed in thin ice,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">press their vivid waiting</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">up to this old window. </span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-16600937010259072542017-01-01T11:25:00.000-08:002017-01-01T11:25:16.793-08:00Rilke tidbit for 2017<div style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Chronicle Text", Georgia, serif; font-size: 1.125em; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.28; margin-bottom: 0.875em; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<i><u><span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></u></i></div>
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<i><u><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">Go To the Limits of Your Longing</span></u></i></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">God speaks to each of us as he makes us,</span></em></div>
<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">then walks with us silently out of the night.</span></em></div>
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<div style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Chronicle Text", Georgia, serif; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.28; margin-bottom: 0.875em; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">These are the words we dimly hear:</span></em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">You, sent out beyond your recall,</span></em></div>
<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">go to the limits of your longing.</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Embody me.</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">Flare up like a flame</span></em></div>
<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">and make big shadows I can move in.</span></em></div>
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<div style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Chronicle Text", Georgia, serif; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.28; margin-bottom: 0.875em; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.</span></em></div>
<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Just keep going. No feeling is final.</em></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Don't let yourself lose me.</em></div>
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<div style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Chronicle Text", Georgia, serif; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.28; margin-bottom: 0.875em; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">Nearby is the country they call life.</span></em></div>
<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">You will know it by its seriousness.</span></em></div>
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<div style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Chronicle Text", Georgia, serif; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.28; margin-bottom: 0.875em; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">Give me your hand.</span></em></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;"><em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> </em><span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> - Rainer Maria Rilke, Book of Hours, I 59</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">At the limits of my longing, I find a tender ache without bottom. I find a wish to make the world a more peaceful place. I find a desire to be clear and precise in my thinking. I find a courage that I did not know I had, where I can hold my many facets and hear the voices of the world around me. </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.28; margin-bottom: 0.875em; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">Things are happening to me, beauty and terror. I see the slide of our civil society into empty, angry banter. I see a rise of love in response to the hate - people giving money and time and life. I am washed in generosity, both my own encounters and the stories I hear. </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.28; margin-bottom: 0.875em; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">It is also clear that I am headed out beyond my recall, and I think we all are. Perhaps, hopefully, we always have been, and now it is simply coming into clearer focus. The old strategies of keeping ourselves together are no longer sufficient, and we must discover anew what works. How can we create a loving and just society? How can we reach across every aisle to shank hands with whoever is Over There? How can we discover that it is not such a daunting task, that in fact all it requires is admitting that we really don't know what will happen when we extend ourselves? </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.28; margin-bottom: 0.875em; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">I know 2017 by it's seriousness. It is the here and now, same as it ever was and simultaneously fresh in each moment. Where do we begin? </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-28492411210603449462016-08-30T08:46:00.000-07:002016-08-30T08:46:04.300-07:00brushless soul wash<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">In my thinning collection of books that I lug from place to place, I have a small dog-eared paperback which is a collection of words and phrases from other languages that are really useful yet difficult to succinctly translate into English. Some favorites are "<i>uovo di Colombo - </i>an idea or solution that seems obvious only after you realize it," or "<i>sohbet</i> - conversations dedicated solely to mystical, meaningful subjects." There are so many that I love - in Japan, a shrine for broken sewing needles where they are laid to rest in a block of tofu to thank them for their life of service to us. Instructions whispered to a dying person to help her transition peacefully through her journey after death. A broad sense of taking things lightly because we see how life really is. They are all fantastic, and grab me because they touch on something that I knew existed but at the same time did not know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The one that is bobbing in my ocean of consciousness right now is <i>dharma</i>, a word that I forget is only really familiar to Buddhists and Hindus. We use it in Zen, and more broadly in Buddhism, to denote something like the teachings that can be gleaned by paying attention to the way of reality. However, in my little book of phrases, it is translated as "each person's individual journey through life, and their own way of finding it." I think this is meant to reflect more of Hindu perspective (with which I am not deeply familiar), yet it speaks volumes to me at this moment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The little boy in the picture above is me, around 1981. I'm on a pony (or is it just a small horse?) accompanied by my dad, who to me looks really young. He is 43 years old in the photo, and I was going on 4. I was the last of his children (five in all from two marriages), and I was lucky enough to have him in my life for all of my childhood. We went to Chincoteague, VA many summers of my early life, and I think this must be from one of those trips. I look happy, like the day might have been endless and drenched in the smell of ponies, dust, straw, and the nearby ocean. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Today, in my thinning collection of hair, I run my fingers gently and look out the window at the late summer sky. I have just finished a year of living at Zen Mountain Monastery, where I have been a practicing student for several years already. The year was so full, like extra life was lovingly crammed into a box of space and time. Sometimes it was graduate school for my soul, sometimes it was a kindergarten time-out to learn real patience and love for the traces of my old, wounded inner child. I think I sat around nine hundred hours of meditation, which encompassed every experience I could imagine under the sun. I got dusty and dirty with outdoors work, but spent the majority of my work time holding down the basic bookkeeping for the place. The whole year was full of light and shadow, and, as we sometimes invoke in zen, in the end it was nothing special. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">How did I end up living in a monastery for a year? I know it begins back at the Big Bang, which helps me feel more humble and integrated with the unfolding of the cosmos. Billions of years of time have led up to the fact that I'm here writing this, and you are there reading this. This present moment is just as full and complete for every other person and thing in the world. We're not exceptional, us humans, but we are very lucky to laugh and love, to do our best and fall down and get up again. What a gift, to live this one wild and precious life! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When I look at that picture of me and my father, I wonder just how many people touched my life in ways that I cannot even recall. How many people steered me towards goodness and kindness with their own actions? How many wordless teachings came to me through the endless intersections of lives along my journey? I remember reading the opening lines of the <u>Tao Te Ching</u> in the beginning of college, and how much it blew away everything I thought I knew about living my life. What led that Asian philosophy professor to go to Penn State to teach her course that opened the door for me? How is it that we recognize the good, the beautiful, and the true things in life, yet it sometimes take a lifetime to be able to break bad habits and cultivate good ones? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I started out writing this post as a reflection on my year in the monastery, to try to sum up what I have learned. That is, of course, not even close to possible. To touch it lightly, though, I suppose what I've gained is a little more loving spaciousness, the ability to let the world and myself be just as they are. In that space, I can pay more attention and slow down a little more. When life is speeding up and tight, I can't really perceive what I need and what needs to be done. In the spaciousness, I can let things take as long as they need to take. And in that space, there is kindness. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There is a door at the end of the hallway, open just a crack, with sunlight coming out. You push on the door gently, and it opens bit by bit. It takes a while to step into the Light Room, but it is very much possible. In that room, it seems that life is what it always was, and you are who you always were. It's just that the perspective has shifted, broadened, and grown deeper through a loving acceptance of what is. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Not that we can expect life to always be smooth or easy, but we can meet it with grace, patience, and enthusiasm. And we can learn to do it in any moment, in every moment. </span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-57536184555911263012016-06-05T15:57:00.002-07:002016-06-05T15:57:26.592-07:00pendulate appraising<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm not who you want me to be. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In a way, I'm sorry, I suppose, for the discomfort this has caused, may cause, and perhaps will cause in the future. To be certain, I never was. It's just who I am. I love the eerie sound of a shakuhachi flute. I have quirky sense of humor. I like walking through the woods with you, but just as much without you. I still think capitalism has clearly failed, and I don't want to trade my life for money. I still think most of humanity is not going to survive all that much longer - maybe 100 years if we're lucky? I love spacing out looking at the sky. I often don't want to sit yet another period of zazen. But I'm not really sorry, now that I think of it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Truth be told, you are not who I want you to be either. You're not more considerate in the moments I want you to be more considerate. You keep making rich desserts when I'm failing to conquer my sugar addiction. You lean in for more contact when I want to withdraw and collapse. You love Led Zeppelin in a small, closed space at such a high volume. You want to sit more zazen. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And we both belong, so much so that it can't be measured. It's an aspect of reality that is so true it can't really be conceived of. You belong, like sitting on a bench with a beautiful woman on a sunny Friday afternoon in late May. You belong like someone telling you they missed you and giving you a long hug. You belong crooked, and you belong straight. You belonged at three years old on a pony, just being there with the smell of the mane and the hay and the hot earth. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I belonged in a drunken cab zooming through Beijing, going nowhere past beautiful, terrible buildings in the night. I belong in the shade of a hickory, listening to friends talk about big ideas. I belong in the tide that is swelling to eat Miami. I belong on an old steel frame bike, whizzing gracefully through the night along a nameless river. I belong in the seamless giving and receiving of a waltz, a swing, a tango past the slender flower in a cobalt vase. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We all belong. We are all coming home in every moment. Children being naughty, presidential hopefuls with red-faced hate, policemen with twitchy guns, nuns and hookers and businessmen and mechanics and pit bulls and a million drops of water in the passing cloud. My white skin next to your black skin, it belongs. A man's lips on another man's lips, they belong. Hip hop and tapioca pudding and carbon in the atmosphere, it all belongs. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Where do we go from here? Where does this real dream head next? Belonging is our right by still being here in the moment, but that's also where it ends. No entitlement, no privilege blinders, no apologies for abusing our power. From this moment, our responsibility unfolds into the future. Where do we imagine we are headed? Do we like the feel of that place? Do we like this sunny park, this concerto that weeps with my eyes, this American apartheid state, this big box pavement extravaganza, this sweaty addiction, this inability to promise our children anything about life with an honest gut? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's a fierce mandate, this singular precious life. So easy to let it slip... four thousand nervous laughs and a glance away, when facing the wave might just be the wide open medicine we need. The whole world wants you to wake up, and not in some affirmation or self-congratulation or bliss-chasing dreamsicle. It's right there with the next bullet, the next kiss, the next iceberg, the next flood, the next laugh, the next here and now. </span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-33971186047224077692016-05-09T17:00:00.000-07:002016-05-09T17:00:35.950-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Slowly and gently </span><span style="font-size: large;">abandoning the monolithic paradigm </span><span style="font-size: large;">of a separate self. It feels like the beautiful work of a lifetime of single steps, learning to trust the unfolding of things, of myself. </span></div>
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<u><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Just Thinking</span></u></div>
<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Got up on a cool morning. Leaned out a window.<br />No cloud, no wind. Air that flowers held<br />for awhile. Some dove somewhere.<br /><br /></span><div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Been on probation most of my life. And<br />the rest of my life been condemned. So these moments<br />count for a lot—peace, you know.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Let the bucket of memory down into the well,<br />bring it up. Cool, cool minutes. No one<br />stirring, no plans. Just being there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />This is what the whole thing is about.<br />—William Stafford</span><div style="text-align: center;">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-19303100844616927172016-04-05T08:37:00.000-07:002016-04-05T08:37:24.969-07:00early april<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">a thousand miles of touch,</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">in the bright snow...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">now green tea falls clean</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-21673976371437017192016-04-05T06:11:00.000-07:002016-04-05T06:11:34.329-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<u><span style="font-size: large;">No Praise, No Blame</span></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What have the clouds been up to today? You can't</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">blame them, you know. Their edges just</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">happen, and where they go is the fault of the wind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'd like my arrival to be like that, alone and</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">quiet, really present but never to blame.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I'd never presume or apologize, and if anyone </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">only some harmless, irresistible presence</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">all around you, like the truth, something you need,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">like the air. </span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">- William Stafford</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-80010828747062391962016-01-25T08:14:00.001-08:002016-01-25T08:14:08.561-08:00creative tension<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A friend here at monastery, who has worked for years in large corporations and is now kind enough to be the treasurer for our order, recently told me about planning meetings. He and the other members of the board and various steering committees are envisioning how best to direct the growth and development of the monastery. He said that in his last job, they talked about the gap between where the organization was, and where it wanted to be. In that gap, he says, lies "creative tension." This phrase immediately fascinated and energized me. Creative tension... Where am I right now, and where do I want to be? What is the nature of the gap between these two states? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It seems to me that we all live in this gap all the time, though we may not always recognize it when life resists our efforts to parse it out into discrete portions. Perhaps it is more clear when we visualize an artist, a sculptor let's say, looking at a nine foot high block of wood in front of her, holding her mallet and chisel. She has a vision in her head, and at some point begins the rough hewing of the piece. She likely has no idea exactly how she wants it to be, but the process is clear - shaping and carving out an expression of her experience from this big chunk of the world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But you and I, we also live in this gap. As I sit in a chair looking out the window on a brisk sunny morning, and think of all the things I want to do before a noon appointment. How do I choose what to do? How can I learn to make good predictions about how I'll feel getting certain things done and letting go of others? Each moment I act is creating a path - choosing one way to proceed and letting go of all other imagined ones. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I sit now at 38 years of age, what do I want to accomplish before turning 40? 45? 60? Before I die? My life in all these different lenses is a response to the creative tension. If I really want to write that great novel (just an example, it probably isn't in me :-) then how long can I put off starting it? Without a goal of having done it by a certain time, it is too easy to let the time slide by with fantasies of future greatness. If I want to have it done by the time I turn 40, I need to devote many hours to it each week. Then I'm responding to the creative tension by taking steps. And, as I take these steps along the way, the creative tension changes its quality, texture, and shape. I'll need to account for progress I've made on my path, and any outside factors that have come up along the way. It is evolving all the time. This process is alive.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've spent a lot of my life standing on the proverbial Threshold, wondering sometimes how best to proceed. This year of practice at the monastery is pointing me towards the Fierce Urgency of Now, seeing how fleeting and precious this life is and how good it feels to take decisive action from right where I stand. How can I step into my life fully? How to respond more seamlessly to this creative tension? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Bit by bit, I'm coming to see that there is no Later, there is only Now. This moment of sitting and writing is the same moment of my whole life, of the whole unfolding of the universe. The past is gone and only in my imagination. The future is not here yet and is only a fantasy. It will always be this way. There is only this moment. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So each action is a letting go of the ideas of past and future, and an embrace of What Is, all wrapped up in one. Learning confidence in my life comes from realizing that it will always be this way. Everything is a chance and a risk, and brings with it the reward of the unexpected, fresh opportunities of being alive. When I act from best intentions for myself and the world, then I have fulfilled my duty as a human being. I have responded to the creative tension of being Chris as best I can. All else is beyond me, as I have no control over this flowing river of life. But, the very next moment, I need to respond again, and again. This is the joyful duty of being a full human being. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What will you do with this one wild and precious life? How will you enter this sweet moment that is being given to you over and over again? Even if it seems like not a great moment (when the smoke alarm is going off, your partner is angry with you, and someone on the news is talking about Trump's chances of being president), it is still a perfect moment. It is yours to make of it what you will. You are an artist of life - what will you paint next? It's never a burden, though perhaps it is inevitable that we will sometimes see it like that. It is always a gift. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-45614762269240239742016-01-04T09:18:00.000-08:002016-01-04T09:18:41.667-08:00winter announcing<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">today is winter's medallion,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">the wind shaving bright fractures</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">in sloth January dreams.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">small towns nurse on the firm mountains,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">wide Hudson now</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">whitecaps of cold on cold.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">a lean cherry tree</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">prays bare solitude in the lacy frost.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">minds creak with a sudden view</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">of an ice necklace,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">piercing my sky iris</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">with slender elegance.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">a canoe drifts</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">home to the arctic,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">a bleached cedar clings to a gnarled cliff.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">and yet...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">alone in the embrace of all winters,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">smooth mug, vivid sweaters,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">wild children eyes and laughter -</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">the perfection of following</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">this thread through, nostalgia</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">for right here and now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">there is no halting,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">just potentials of gravestones</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">and trees decomposing to Beethoven</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">in a forgotten stretch of frozen woods.</span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-13290899166507719682015-10-13T07:41:00.001-07:002015-10-13T07:41:25.768-07:00Dispatch from Mt. Tremper in the Heart of Autumn<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">At times it sounds trite, but these days it feels so fresh - I came to train here at the monastery because I wish to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and avoid coming to my deathbed and worrying whether I could have done more to wake up to life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">These first six weeks of residential training at Zen Mountain monastery have been so many things - a microscope, a pressure cooker, improvisational dance, a dream, an escape, a stone well in the middle of an empty field at sunset. As residents we are charged to do our best to pay attention in every moment and see what our minds are doing. When we get lost, we acknowledge that and return our attention to this moment. This process repeats itself endlessly. As I enter such a strong of a container of awareness practice, many things about myself and the world are illuminated.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">For instance, the teachers have given me the assignment for this year to be the bookkeeper. Say it with me... yikes! Having never had a desk job, and being generally averse to spending a lot of life seated in front of a computer, my initial reaction was strong resistance. Due to being in the monastery, however, turning down the job is not really an option. So now I'm the bookkeeper. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">What do I do as bookkeeper? I enter lots of invoices for various retreats, try to stay on top of people paying their student dues, make sure the ins and outs of money flows match up precisely, assist the office manager in making sure the bills get paid on time, etc. What else do I do? I have some moments of deep struggle. I'm on an unfamiliar PC, doing work that is very new to me, and trying to pay attention to a series of small tasks that all need to be entered with both accuracy and precision even if I'm doing 30 in a row. I can't zone out or else I end up making mistakes, which I've certainly done in my first month. If I do make a mistake, it's still bookkeeping - I have to go back and correct it and leave a paper trail for anyone who may look at it in the future and try to understand what happened. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">On a deeper level, I get to see and <i>feel</i> myself doing this job. When I'm stuck, unsure how to proceed, and don't want to interrupt the office manager yet again to get help with a simple task, how am I proceeding in that moment? Whatever I do is my response, from freezing up to getting angry at myself to just asking for help. I feel stories come up, stories that feel deep and old. I feel tense because I think that my identity as "someone who gets things done and is highly competent" is being threatened. Is that really true? I don't know. I have to be patient and look more closely. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">When I slow down and pay meticulous attention, I also see this job as a chance to give. Someone has to take care of the money. It is foolish to deny that we live in a society that places great emphasis on money and how it flows. I am sometimes honored, and subsequently humbled, that they have chosen me to keep the books even for a year. They must see something in me that I don't always see, especially in my narrow, fearful moments. It is also a chance to see myself in a new light. Maybe I can be meticulous and detail-oriented in a computer job. If it doesn't always come easy, so what? I have found nothing in life worth doing that does not require some degree of patience and effort. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">So really, who am I? Am I a carpenter who is now stuck in a desk job? I have done a lot of carpentry in my life, but does that mean I am a carpenter? That sounds suspiciously like there is a Platonic essence of "me" in the universe, which doesn't sit well since I've never actually found that. Am I competent or incompetent? Another hard question. I'm put in a position with very little training and expected to do my best. It is perfectly reasonable, and expected, really, that I will have lots of questions for a while as I learn how to do things. Does competency have some independent existence, and I get to have it or not have it? I don't think so, but it sure feels like that sometimes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Am I a thing (soul, bag of skin, carpenter, bookkeeper, poet), or is there just the process of life unfolding? If I am a thing with a real existence, where and when is that thing? I'm certainly not the same moment to moment. I look different every day. I'm physically different after every breath, every sip of tea, every meal, every trip to the bathroom. No scientist has yet located either the soul or the mind in our bodies anywhere. If there is just process, then how do I make peace with that when sometimes I really, really want to be a thing, especially a competent, thoughtful, kind, funny, handsome... well, you get it. These are the kind of reflections that come and go when you're bookkeeping at a monastery in the mountains.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">So am I just navel-gazing, asking ontological and epistemological questions while avoiding real encounters with life? A valid question, especially in these times of dire need. I think of this when people <i>still</i> burn down churches in the South in response to black people organizing for their own peace and safety. I think of this when I read about mass shootings and the age of mass incarceration. I think of this when I read about every side torturing people from the other side in Every War, Everywhere. Someone needs to slow down this insanity train we call human civilization. Is it me? Am I doing my part?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I don't know, but I can tell you this. Right now I don't see my way to a life of cloistered monastic living. In some ways it would be appealing. I get to live in a well-functioning intentional community of people committed to trying to be kind and honest with each other. I'm really glad I get to practice in this intense setting for a year, because I so clearly see the benefit in examining and illuminating our true nature. I think zen practice is really great for that. Certainly not the only way, but a powerful one. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">What I want to carry out into the world is a softer, more pliable sense of self. The more I practice, the more often I see that you and I are deeply, truly connected. We are indeed all just aspects of this beautiful process of life unfolding. When I can really rest in this process, I feel less defensive and more open. I can listen and be more present with those in need. I am kinder to myself, and want to be kind to others in turn. I see more of the world as sacred and worthy of my care and regard. I see that to truly turn outwards, we need to first turn the light around and examine ourselves - with curiosity, love, and patience.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Who are you? How do you want to be in the world? I know that we all want to do something generous with our lives, to contribute to healing rather than hurting. How will we offer our deepest, brightest truth? I don't think it is found in a solid thing, either out in the world or inside ourselves. So where is it?</span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Starting here, what do you want to remember?<br />How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?<br />What scent of old wood hovers, what softened<br />sound from outside fills the air?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Will you ever bring a better gift for the world<br />than the breathing respect that you carry<br />wherever you go right now? Are you waiting<br />for time to show you some better thoughts?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When you turn around, starting here, lift this<br />new glimpse that you found; carry into evening<br />all that you want from this day. This interval you spent<br />reading or hearing this, keep it for life –</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What can anyone give you greater than now,<br />starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-76346197833210135222015-07-26T04:48:00.000-07:002015-07-26T05:06:43.091-07:00Changing gears on the same highway<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday, I put away all my tools. I shook out the sawdust from the nooks and crannies, and wiped off the well-used sawblades coated with a fine layer of pitch, copper, and paint. I put a little lithium grease in the rotating base of my miter saw. I swept out my truck, and wiped down the boxes that hold all these useful treasures. I boxed up all the odds and ends from my past three years of carpentry here in the mountains - the remnants of nails, screws, glue, blades, chalk, and caulk. It was a nice walk down memory lane, thinking of the the jobs I've done while laying out my life in the dappled shade of a Saturday afternoon. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFb1VOTCc84QfykjXB8MYg4PzNAXKQe0tmp1Nb2VJU5PM0k8iU5wxKdJukNRBh8P6P_6pg8EkDX7XDeMvOl9n3ZdlCxRbSebxItPm4ZBXl9rf9c8s50PYQ3-Z5hUiS0wZia1pJBQ/s1600/IMG_5854.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFb1VOTCc84QfykjXB8MYg4PzNAXKQe0tmp1Nb2VJU5PM0k8iU5wxKdJukNRBh8P6P_6pg8EkDX7XDeMvOl9n3ZdlCxRbSebxItPm4ZBXl9rf9c8s50PYQ3-Z5hUiS0wZia1pJBQ/s400/IMG_5854.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I did all this in preparation for entering the zen monastery in the beginning of September. I'm retiring for a year, perhaps more, to change the focus of my life. I feel a little sadness at closing down my carpentry work, but not too much. Mainly I'm feeling the energy of making a conscious change in direction, of switching the tack of my life for at least a while.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We live our lives as a response to the circumstances of the world around us, and the world of thoughts and feelings within us. This move is a response to the life I live in, to the life I'm creating as I go along. I think of it as karma - not a reward or punishment, nor a clear case of some kind of cause and effect. For me karma is about working with the energy, patterns, and threads of my life without worrying too much about why things seem to be the way they are. (In fact, the Buddha warned against trying to "figure out" karma in an explicit way. He said it is infinitely complex and will make you crazy if you try to pin it down.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There are various threads of my karma that I can roughly perceive in my life right now. I'm drawn to zen practice (meditation, work, simplicity, frugality, and a worldview that I share with other practitioners). I am privileged enough to be able to focus on practice for a while, which is no small thing in a world where many people need to struggle just to survive. I am in the prime of my life physically, so I am able to give with my body and mind in ways that I may not be able to in the future. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Also, I feel that, right now, living in a monastery is a valid response to the tangible insanity of our modern culture. Mass shootings have become common. The climate has become unstable. Systemic violence between the police and people of color seems to be everywhere. Economic inequality and democratic breakdown are pairing to create a modern fusion of complacency and alienation unprecedented in human history as far as I can tell. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In my time in the monastery, I aim to explore the roots of these social and ecological problems in myself. It has become clear in the past three years of zen practice that the greed and anger out there in the world are also present in me, as long as I hold on to the notion of a separate self that I need to defend from the world. I can make the case that my anger is different from the anger of someone shooting people in a church, but I also see that the roots of experience that I touch in my meditation and reflection are the same roots that motivate racial hatred and killing. As long as I hold myself as separate from the rest of the world in any way, then I will, at some point, necessarily have to defend this Self in thoughts, speech, or action from things that seem to threaten my identity. How that unfolds is the story of humanity's shadow - wars, slavery, oppression, endless arguments about right and wrong.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For me, I've discovered that a powerful antidote to the fundamental problem of a separate Self is to turn the light around and examine myself. Who am I? What aspects of me or the world are actual, real Things? As I investigate all the phenomena of the world, I have so far only discovered that everything arises and passes away. If that is true, than what is my identity that I keep clinging to? Why do I tenaciously cling to an illusory sense of self? How can I soften that sense of self through being kind and loving? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My answers are not in any particular actions, but in <i>how</i> I am living my life. It is the process rather than the content, if you will. How can I sip a cup of coffee generously? How can I be firm with someone compassionately? How can I get closer to anger in myself or others? How can I accept the world as it seems to be without necessarily endorsing the aspects that I dislike? This is my journey right now. It feels good, it is sufficient beginning, and yet it is only a beginning. I hope every moment in my life is like that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In Buddhism we talk about merit, which I take roughly to mean good or useful energy. We offer it or dedicate it to others, as a reminder that our practice is actually to help the whole world and not just move ourselves along some imagined path of self-improvement. In that spirit, if I should make any merit this year, I offer it to all those who need it. It's for you in your rough spots, as was all the energy that helped me through my hard times. Maybe it's all the good things in our lives that we recollect and call upon in our efforts to make the world a better place. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In packing up my tools, I felt deep gratitude to those who have helped me along the way by teaching me, working with me, hiring me, criticizing me, supporting me, and doing everything else that needed to be done. This goes beyond carpentry into chaplaincy, teaching, backpacking, painting, and writing. It goes into the nooks and crannies of my life, into the marrow of my curious bones. I am supported by the efforts of all those who have come before since the beginning of time, which is such a tremendous gift. If you are reading this, the gift of this moment has been given to you too. What a joy and a treasure...</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-27689129673935977482015-06-25T18:26:00.001-07:002015-06-25T18:26:43.861-07:00tender moment from a Japanese master<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">A world without</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgub60hYg2xAEdkR8C2DTBMEtzrzanPlMZLPfkVW_OSADVvTVn8Kl5ikkOCZDwGMma6EafqThUzBnxQBFZ2o9HdE1K0HGno3-WYrpukCUQpyKHyP3WCjrRO2AC2ZkpyuIJ-w9kY9g/s1600/buddha+and+forsythia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgub60hYg2xAEdkR8C2DTBMEtzrzanPlMZLPfkVW_OSADVvTVn8Kl5ikkOCZDwGMma6EafqThUzBnxQBFZ2o9HdE1K0HGno3-WYrpukCUQpyKHyP3WCjrRO2AC2ZkpyuIJ-w9kY9g/s400/buddha+and+forsythia.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I like this poem for reminding me that my whole journey is nourishing. It's not even that I find myself in a melancholy mood right now. For me the power comes from the simple reminder that every passing cloud and shadow in my heart, as well as all the sunshine of joy, is a precious gift given to me. It's the only life I have. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-50264720953424916312015-06-23T18:27:00.002-07:002015-06-23T18:27:47.213-07:00<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;">the maples, not uprooted a sacred inch, are</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">all these collected efforts are similarly empty</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">our life is laughter and forgetting</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> into the pickling tears of wiz-dumb,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">speechlessly recalcitrant.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">tonight left me Nothing</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">as the broadest gift conceivable</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">in the rhapsody of moon </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">on rust</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">on shivering</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> bright</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> water.</span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-89103626976291364362015-06-10T04:05:00.002-07:002015-06-10T04:08:42.649-07:00drop spindle of june morning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">it is not exactly joy</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">that brings me</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">softly through the barefoot pines</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">of a June dawn</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">it is perhaps the dew,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">the awe of feathery grass clumps</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">under my rough arches,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">the harsh press of </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">acorn caps loving my whole journey</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">the sweet stolen moment</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">of solitude,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">the vain attempt</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">to do the nothing work</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">of dissolving...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">just an arc of breath</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">by the sycamore,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">the slender black bird, hopping</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">on a dead branch</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">among the ribald orchestra of summer green.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-18721759188699816522015-05-10T05:26:00.002-07:002015-05-10T05:26:39.558-07:00rediscovered porch truths<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">speckled May mountain</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">said a prayer for all that is gone,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">bowed carelessly with devotion</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">to what is.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">a small listing hut gives shape</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">to the whole valley - you are a hermit everywhere.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">sleeping on straw,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">you midwife all the wild roses</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">and swinging arcs of cardinals,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">razor red in the smudged green canvas of trees.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">your hands and thoughts are so clear,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">they must be integral</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">to this dream fabric.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">look! a sleepy vice sits with rusty bolts,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">perfectly still on a leaning table</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">between the lanky pines.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-44030101571144136582015-04-21T05:14:00.000-07:002015-04-21T05:15:53.761-07:00<br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>an old brass lamp hangs</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>in soft morning mist, glowing</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>on the stream's surface.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>a bough tugs at my shoulder -</i></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>leaning, I gaze in the swirls.</i></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-51394772806137821132015-04-09T05:20:00.001-07:002015-04-09T05:44:26.513-07:00<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><u><b><br /></b></u></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><u>On a Bridge Before Dawn, Recollecting Last Night's Rain</u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">you friends friends friends</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">hurled sweetly</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">three hundred thousand deep</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">jewels bursting on the drive home pavement</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">in the high beams</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">wrapping the backroad car</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">in poetry demands</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">stepping in from the broad</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">sheet of blank canvas deluge,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">did we join </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">ordinarily</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">in dishwashing the slender volume</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">of preparing for sleep?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">the roof sounds of steady gale</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">call all over this skin</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">and ease into dreams</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">(<i>steady Cadillacs on</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>easy broken highways</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>filled with vacancy</i>)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">the lathe of sleepwake, sleepwake...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">an old hand is working on</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">this body with a tested gouge,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">the soul pickles in an oak barrel</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">with loose slats,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">weeping into the gaps,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">breathing the joy air of</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">a roughed-out container</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">this palette consciousness</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">of Wow</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Flowering Gratitude</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Fall On My Knees Simplicity,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">all the Bestest things</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">to pallbear our dancing days</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">across the river dark</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">at appointed-by-no-one time</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">my old friends with Big Sky beards</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">coarse wilderness rivers</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">women with strong joy and laments,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">hop on a prayer-bead string</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">and meander on down</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">the backroads,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">lead me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">with sweet songs</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">of a place n' time</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">a smooth cobalt bottle</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">eased through the rapids</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">and quietly turns</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">in the stillwater and last</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">moonlight</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I pick up its emptiness</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">and turn it out</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">on the sand banks -</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">the gentle heft</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">of its thousand lifetimes</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">ripening towards</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">this ordinary today.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-5839176000462787692015-04-02T13:16:00.001-07:002015-04-02T13:25:59.603-07:00tanka of turning seasons<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Taking wild refuge,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">the sun has cut off torpor...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">cold water sparkles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Endless as sweet blue rivers,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">spring sweeps road dust in soft curls.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-76351063516551126422015-03-23T02:56:00.000-07:002015-03-23T02:56:08.754-07:00from out of here<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">heartbeat larger than time</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">like a tall pine</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">splitting the sky darkly</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">things reconciling themselves</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">as old friends</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">jagged strokes simply enhance</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">the soft space of a silk canvas</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">across the roiling stream</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">stepping stones vanish gently</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">into the cool shadows</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-9330375444783612482015-03-08T05:31:00.000-07:002015-03-08T05:31:03.722-07:00winterlong<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">a few barefoot steps</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">breaking into old ice crust -</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">sparrow laughs on down.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">feeble winter in these sounds...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">hard river cracks for young oaks.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-83107109115538258852015-02-22T05:20:00.000-08:002015-04-02T13:19:06.201-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This story could be true,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">a thousand interpretations of light</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">gold and poison in my ambitious veins.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Coming down into that Montana,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">that highway of broad masculine sky</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">was swift resuscitation. It is with me now</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">in this boxy moment</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">the curving wall of obscuring breath.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Will my patience grow so free</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">as crabgrass, kudzu, wild white pines</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">on a full night of life?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I have always been lost</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">in the mountains,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">even as they rescued me</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">laughing.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiejTHjGEjV0XeRSfBT3EshufBCFuBs9xgCljYxaF44vhodXx8a04x-38i0aubO4s8gvSnCLkUfOMcKih7ya9m1hnxoebbBiWZpeFHfwXRE6hONoaG4cwrkBUzkOSw0D_9wnlbsUQ/s1600/boat+skeleton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiejTHjGEjV0XeRSfBT3EshufBCFuBs9xgCljYxaF44vhodXx8a04x-38i0aubO4s8gvSnCLkUfOMcKih7ya9m1hnxoebbBiWZpeFHfwXRE6hONoaG4cwrkBUzkOSw0D_9wnlbsUQ/s1600/boat+skeleton.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-13703527626119631292015-02-22T04:59:00.000-08:002015-02-22T04:59:01.252-08:00a dual winter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh47oN8T4JZMxuLtZdf4zkuXETtRxvJRBBhkF1_UFB9z9wPkI9pJWLfIZuQJmsn5SjNcFjpM8nsY56Albp6OPIasoaZY8jDib9iZAtQsaAntVzwp3nUBzc3wO_4M4bmHP-rtfpwhA/s1600/snow+dawn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh47oN8T4JZMxuLtZdf4zkuXETtRxvJRBBhkF1_UFB9z9wPkI9pJWLfIZuQJmsn5SjNcFjpM8nsY56Albp6OPIasoaZY8jDib9iZAtQsaAntVzwp3nUBzc3wO_4M4bmHP-rtfpwhA/s1600/snow+dawn.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">the yearning moon is</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">aching its way around</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">the other side of February earth.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">in dawn's silver needles,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">my gaze is enormous</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">my slightest movements appetitive...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">my root fingers explore the old knots</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">of Rumi teaching.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">making the whole winter a song,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">we can pray it to the </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">lake sky, joining all those living</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">in oppression</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">in our own faint way, real candles</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">in a long night of unknowing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">here on the edge, competent snow squeezes us still,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">my relevance and Big Thoughts</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">eaten by the space between</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">sparrow's cluster of voice.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">everything that last night's moon</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">wanted me to receive -</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">the dull silver light of which I'm tired,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">the crazed squirrel leaping full and true on powdered limbs -</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">is infusing space with a vital breath.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">joining it again, we upturn to</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">the memory of spring sun</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">and leaving our pine box</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">right in time.</span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-46497122816567781582015-02-14T07:49:00.001-08:002015-02-14T07:49:11.202-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI6TVa-RpE0_5D__k5DEnm6-o6l6ecJ7PAw6AIlKCCEspW2igf2IWgI03UcxCfC-34jVwjgftMFpKIo9M6Il2-Hi_O77I-pB2egiF7gA48yw6R3i40TNdM8lu1VJnBwXKGAfTf0A/s1600/cabinet+faces.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI6TVa-RpE0_5D__k5DEnm6-o6l6ecJ7PAw6AIlKCCEspW2igf2IWgI03UcxCfC-34jVwjgftMFpKIo9M6Il2-Hi_O77I-pB2egiF7gA48yw6R3i40TNdM8lu1VJnBwXKGAfTf0A/s1600/cabinet+faces.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Wild atlas of the cold sun,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">trees pointing the shivering way</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">in the bare late morning</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">grasping with evil or good</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">all this art and ordinary life</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">become what they are</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">traceless... the old rafters</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">fill the kitchen with knots and nails.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHe1s_XHXUUPEV8Vo5R-A9yEUtplNfWQnWyY5uD_HaTlvbrfB_WR-pKUG8HZaUKSoZB2rzlXyBNub2AB1e66jG25xu7OU4xRQpL82_l9kkaun_1aETHZ3788QZ3EZmEQHu1Royw/s1600/snow+field.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHe1s_XHXUUPEV8Vo5R-A9yEUtplNfWQnWyY5uD_HaTlvbrfB_WR-pKUG8HZaUKSoZB2rzlXyBNub2AB1e66jG25xu7OU4xRQpL82_l9kkaun_1aETHZ3788QZ3EZmEQHu1Royw/s1600/snow+field.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12586259.post-40876407864028223832015-02-08T03:48:00.001-08:002015-02-12T10:27:03.757-08:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></u></div>
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<u><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></u></div>
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<u><span style="font-size: x-large;">a particular way out of this</span></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">All shades of people talk</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">'what is to be done?'</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">a starting point leans out a tenement window</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">on the ashen street,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">young yet in these dark times she says</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">'the world is on fire'</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">somewhere, the sun shines</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">on an oil tanker bobbing the Pacific,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">moonlight falls on a suit and tie</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">embezzling someone's million dollars.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">a man from twenty years of innocent prison time</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">is suddenly turnkey free</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">without a whisper of <i>sorry</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">from the crooked bars.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">perhaps justice begins with loving ourselves</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">and not salting the wounded world</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">quite so much...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">clear a space for contrition,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">forgiveness echoes forgiveness.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">graffiti our tight dead habits</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">with news of</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Wanting to make good.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">poetry ends and begins again -</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">redemption is without source or edge,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">the space beyond what we can cage</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">with our Knowing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">that girl skinned her knees</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">listening to the world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">here are the gravel and flesh bits</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">for you.</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12050472462233023396noreply@blogger.com0