Wednesday, October 24, 2007

MY spirit to yours, dear brother;
Do not mind because many, sounding your name, do not understand you;
I do not sound your name, but I understand you,
(there are others also)
I specify you with joy, O my comrade, to salute you,
and to salute those who are with you, before and since—and those to come also,
That we all labor together, transmitting the same charge and succession;
We few, equals, indifferent of lands, indifferent of times;
We, enclosers of all continents, all castes—allowers of all theologies,
Compassionaters, perceivers, rapport of men,
We walk silent among disputes and assertions, but reject not the disputers,
nor any thing that is asserted;
We hear the bawling and din—we are reach’d at by divisions, jealousies, recriminations on every side,
They close peremptorily upon us, to surround us, my comrade,
Yet we walk unheld, free, the whole earth over, journeying up and down, till we make our ineffaceable mark upon time and the diverse eras,
Till we saturate time and eras, that the men and women of races, ages to come, may prove brethren and lovers, as we are.

-To Him that was Crucified
Walt Whitman


 

Monday, October 15, 2007

I wish to be good but Im bad at it

It is a debate for another day - my thoughts upon the nature of miracles, intrinsic as I think them to the nature of nature itself. Be a mystic with me for a moment, see mere chaos creating life and mercy growing upon it like blossoms and accept that in the small actions of the universe there is a voice. Hard to hear and humble it speaks only when you wish to listen, to watch what is before you and see; but speak even just a whisper in your mind and it will yield to you. Omnipotent little you. We see too much an image of some distant God, incarnate upon the mountain or the cross, when Krsna and Christ spoke of no such thing. They spoke of God within you, the mercy that is the truth which knows your heart itself. Life has come to something for me, as it must come to something for each of us. But what is around us is what is what is around us and we do not suppose that nature would speak lies; the truth being defined as what nature prefers. Nature acts by elegance, burning itself away to produce creatures such as us, after all we are here. I was struck yesterday with a thought. I had just come from Half Price Books and I bought a book compiled to celebrate Stephen Hawkings 60th birthday. One of the first papers in it had an image of the sun in a dark sky showing the plants and animals on a warming and cooling Earth. The caption said, "Life on Earth is possible because the sun is a bright spot in a dark sky." That is to say, life is possible because there is a single light in a great darkness. If this does not speak numinously then what could? But as the Grand Inquisitor asks us, mocking but himself more than any, "What is the value of this freedom if obedience can be bought with bread?" Most of the time I walk around wishing to be good without actually doing much to participate. The world acts all around me and I observe it to comment, making of myself the grandest sort of hypocrite (but of all of them hypocrisy if my favourite sin). Still, I will embark this week to amend this as best I may. I'll put my foot upon the right stones to walk forward and I will pause until I know which one next will also support me.

The Rat Within the Grain

By: Damien Rice

This would not have happened
If I hadn’t missed my plane
I would've been there when they told you
I’m the Rat within the grain

Within this big misunderstanding now
and I’m being misunderstood
I'm thinking someone's trying to fuck with me
And set fire to my wood

I wouldn’t want you to want
To be wanted by me
I wouldn’t want you to worry
That You'd be drowned within my sea
I only wanted to be wonderful
And wonderful is true
In truth I only really wanted
To be wanted by you

It’s a stupid situation now
Where everything goes wrong
If you can't tell if I’m lying
Then you do not belong

In my bed
Go rest your head
Upon the bones of a bigger man
He can cover you with rock wool
And you can close up like a clam

Because I wouldn’t want you to want
To be wanted by me
I wouldn’t want you to worry
You'd be drowned within my sea

I only wanted to be wonderful
And wonderful is true
In truth I only really wanted
To be wanted by you

So go play with your piano
And write a mediocre song
About the shell of mediocrity
And pretend there’s nothing wrong

I never thought
You where a chicken shit
I never thought of you at all
Until you ask me to be part of it
And now you're showing me a wall

I wouldn’t want you to want
To be wanted by me
I wouldn’t want you to worry
You be drowned within my sea
I only wanted to be wonderful
And wonderful is true
In truth I only really wanted
To be wanted by you

La la la la ……………

In truth I only really wanted
To be wanted by you

---Much of what I would say to my three great unrequited loves, adding only that I wished them well and would never have asked anything of them at all. Make your life into your love, I would say, and I will have sacrificed the utterness of my being to ensure your freedom.  It is only in love that selflessness becomes selfish, incresing its measure and authority with every bit of itself which is whittled away.
    On another note, happier and with greater detail to come. I officially become a Quaker on Sunday this. (Which, if thou do not know is 21st of the Tenth Month in Quaker speak.)

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam - Tetrastich 18

I sometimes think that never blows so red
the Rose as where some great Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the garden wears
dropt there from some once lovely head.