Poetrue

No soggy blog, no lost salute, just me and you. Bon Jour.
No time to spare, no where to go, you say goodbye, I say for sure.
His gently weeping guitar gasped.
Released upon us as a gift like Emerson or Monet,
it is hard to see the Quarry for the men (boys).
They were there. But swallow them whole
without the math of division--Jean-Paul Harrison Ritchie.
Not a note has changed across the universe.

All you need is all you need is...
Your lungs. Release grief from your lungs. Did you know?
Breathe. Precious breath. Bated? Be careful. Breathe.

Have we found the uninterupted serpent swallowing its tail? Yes.
Do we remember? Sometimes. Does it matter. Yes. Do we need to hurry?
Certainly. No.
Isn't it amazing, the playfulness of God? What a prankster.

It's been a long time comin'

When I looked today at "Broomsticks", it was apparent to me that some time has passed since I dropped in to see what my friends have been thinking about, and sharing with our little gang of thieves. In words of the venerable outlaw Willie Nelson: "ain't it funny how time slips away".

I have been so absorbed in my own obsession, that I have neglected a transcendental truth. To borrow a quote from one of my favorite authors, "don't fuck around with friendship". Powerful words; and cause for me to reflect. I suspect, no, I'm sure, I'm guilty of fucking around with friendship, and I am pledged to being a better friend to those that call me friend, in the time I have remaining. You've got a friend... sing it James.

One final attempt to assuage my guilt. Oddly related to the subject of time, and it's passing, I have given some thought to certain elements of quantum mechanics that suggest that the universe is not static, but vibrates at the speed, (or more appropriately, the frequency), of light. Our reality literally comes and goes so rapidly that we, the observers, cannot percieve the "off" condition. One school of thought suggests that is that 'space in between' where our true conciousness dwells. I have been trying to focus more of my energy on that space in between. Note to friends - if I seem to you to be somewhere else, I probably am. Bonk me on the head and I'll return - or better yet, join me in between.

Rick

Auf Wiedersehen, goodnight

Have you read the lyrics to So Long, Farewell, from the Sound of Music? I hadn't until just now.

There's a sad sort of clanging From the clock in the hall...ahhh. So sad! But alas, I agree it is time to go. We gave her a try but it is silly to come here and submit posts which aren't read. Might as well just write in a notebook.

An absurd little bird is popping out to say coo-coo.

So long!

The Shake Man

You know it is way too early in the morning (what do you call it when you feel like it is the middle of the night and from too much coffee during the day, you rise and frustrated--you go to the computer to compose? But you're really in no shape to write well. Shit you're sleep deprived! Much better to write fresh, like after a full and wonderful deep dream filled night!!!). I'm terrible with words. Let me say it simply. It is 5:15 but I've been up since 3 and on the computer for well over half of that. Awful.

Oh well, I'm here and determined to tell you, courteous reader about The Shake Man.

Specifically here is the quote. And I'm not going to go to Google to get it exactly right, so please be lenient with your judgement. I'll screw it up a little but I think you'll get the general idea.

What he said (well duh, he said way more than I've ever read and probably way more than can ever be digested by all the Harvard Literature experts--face it the man was a Space Freak, an anomoly (is that the word?), a poet like no other. A marvel of word beauty. The Shake Man...

back to the story. What he said which is one of my favorite lines to return to again and again in those corridors of my mind is....drum role please.....

Those friends thou hast and their adoption tried, grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel!

My God I'm trembling right now and I teared up as those little pixels, those mega what the hell are they, you know what i'm talking about, the measurement of electronic data, that take the form of the "written word" but really are magical instant combinations of ones and zeros in the shape of alphabetic symbols. The point is, The Shake Man moves me but more importantly at this moment what I'm trying to say is...don't fuck around with friendship. It is precious and vital and those few people--because yes dear and courteous reader, your true friends will be few....but the ones who have stood the test...oh that reminds me, the first part of that speech who by the way The ShakeMeister attributed to a real schlock head...Laertes or Polonius, I always confuse them, one the father--the schlock meister, the other the son, and it was the father, the jerk face who got to give one of the most impactful and beautiful and wise short speeches of all humanity of all time in the space of about 13 lines or something...the first part of that is...yes, another drum role if you please....

"Don't dull thy palm with every new courage..." Ha! What a masterpiece. Is he telling us don't shake hands with people? No not at all, but he is masterfully teaching us that don't let the mere act of shaking hands qualify the person connected to the other hand put you in some stupid feeling that you've somehow committed to a true friendship.

You know, now that I think of it and read people's comments who we encounter here in blogoland, I have just now realized how many opportunities I've had to dull my palm! How many friends have I really collected here though? Hmmmm. According to my FaceBook page it is up to around 70 or 80. Of those on my page I wonder how many I should grapple to my soul with hoops of steel?

A few. And you are there baby. connected in a band of very determined metal!

Peace.

Friends

I'm looking out the window in my home office. We've had so much rain that the grass in my neighbor's yard has gone to seed. I can actually feel the juice of that biomass as I spy on the green canvas. They aren't blades of grass but an orgy of Springtime. A field of wheat in miniature.

I let myself and my eyesight go to soft focus and there is honestly a connection to my own sexuality. I feel it in my loins! Isn't that bizarre?!! Don't ask me what that has to do with friendship. Its just that I looked out my window when the subject came to mind.

I love my friends. (Bet chu can't just eat one). I'll take more!

These last few weeks have been about rebirth. Maybe it is connected to the cycles of the universe and the season. But faces are popping out of the past like that game where little heads pop up out of holes, except these heads you don't want to bonk. You want to grab them and say, "Wait, don't leave yet! Where have you been? What have you been doing? How's the family? God, I know, where have the years gone?!!!!

Have you given much thought to your last few minutes? Your last breath? I have. And it seems to be pouring down on me, this feeling of....Man, get everything squared away, don't allow any lingering hard feelings, don't hold on to any disappointments, no regrets. NO REGRETS!

And friends! Wow, what a sacred blessing. Naturally we all have family (oh how I wish those of you who sadly don't would have!) and we love our family and cherish them and those blood connections are as sweet as milk and honey. But what a lonely hole would be left on that part of my extended self if it weren't for those few friends I have. Sing it James....Shower the People you Love with LOVE. Show them the way that you feel!

OK, so come here all you friends. Hugs. Big strong hugs. Now get outta here you big lugs, before I bonk ya!

Experiment

i want to write without words and without "trying" to impress anyone. ok, the first part will be a little tough. let me try..... rrrstrng fretslobberheist, non chipper smorgen. did you get that?

hey i inadvertently did the second part! i was reading an op-ed on op-eds and the quote that stuck with me was "opinion can be so interesting." i fear i'm stuck in this groove of wanting to be interesting. what is this, a new twist on my mid life crisis i've been dealing with for the last 2 or 3 years?

and all my arm twisting to recruit fellow warriors...well, let me spend a little time here.

it came on gradually for me, this understanding of how toxic is the whole corporation thing. i don't mean like small business corporations. i even have a few of those (though it bugs me because it feels so hypocritical at times). i'm talking about large corporations which are literally destroying the planet and creating very difficult lives, as a result of the economic outcome, for most of civilization (including for their own workers).

and then there is this spiritual revolution at play. a big departure from organized religion (or it can be--though i know some people who are very active in organized religion who have tapped in to deep spirituality in the midst of that mind fuck). my take on it is that God (for lack of a better word, as Lao said about Tao) is playing a tune and the music has us bouncing behind like a bunch of (let's say bunnies and create a better image than some other rodent) rabbits. Except instead of heading to our certain drowning death, we're hopping to a promised land. But not after we're vaporized and so only going to get to the gates of heaven as ghosts, but actually making a way to harmony, in balance with all of creation, right here on our blessed planet--Gaia!

the big joke in all this is it feels like we're hovering somewhere around 50% that we're going to turn the curve toward sanity. some say we've got a slightly higher chance. some predict we've got a little bias against us to survive. some argue we're way weighted toward the negative. then of course there are those who swear that Fox News tells it like it is...

SANITY? if we throw in the whole illusion/reality thing, and insist like i do that the road to sanity means a total flip-flop on how we run the world, and that what we try to hold on to as reality...(insert the lyrics to Nowhere Man here).

so anyhoo. on to the experiment. i haven't erased a word or letter here and plan to not change a thing. what i'm going to attempt for my next stunt is some kind of experimental poetry. bear with me. i'm going to unplug here for a second and close my eyes. see you on the flip side....

shibby dee and shibby doo, he's smiling
the embrace he has for you will make everyone cry a kind of laughter which shatters
no. just shatters.
swallow softly and share fruit
this dance is fucking crazy--aint it fun?
why am i such an ass hole most of the time?
i wish my dad was still alive
hvren stotter slggn--rss. Rss.
we almost touched at sunset.
TOMORROW!

Beyond Religion

The Essential Rumi is always a good choice of books to take on trips. I was fortunate to take it again on this trip to Las Vegas. There were nights in my room and an afternoon at the pool, before my daughter and grandkids joined me that I was able to snuggle up to it and vanish in the mystery of his art.

I've tried before to understand the Persian mystic from eight centuries ago. To "get" him as a son of a scholar or as a Sufi poet living in a violent Muslim world, harrassed by Genghis Khan. It is always after I've emerged myself in the ocean of his timelessness, the blinding light of his revelations, the swirling trance of his magic spells that later I demand some explanation of who and how and why he achieved the impossible. Ha, the folly of the intellect!

"The impossible" he achieved is his rare skill of delivering the reader directly to a sublime experience. This isn't morality or dogma but direct understanding of essence. Even as a feeble egoist with an unfair portion of delusion, I'm temporarily transported to a depth of exhultation which should be reserved for the most avid bottisatva.

One morning just before I read his masterpiece about "Surrender" called Omar and the Old Poet, I was aware of my arrogance, and then I read this line:

"Don't be a searcher wrapped in the importance of his quest. Repent of your repenting!"

Wow--he put me in my place....AGAIN!

Even now, as I reflect about the space (or vacuum?) that I disappear into (or from?) when the pages are open to the translations of Coleman Barks, the edges of reality (illusion?) get blurred, and the odd sensation of slipping in to a hollow vibration that seems to resonate at some submolecular level reminds me how I love to love being in love with God.

So here is my puny rendition, my salute to the master...

A Whispered Response to a Rumi Reflection
What is my love of God?
Formless ecstasy, lost in
the internal bliss of a symphony of laughter,
which is never remembered, never forgotten and can not be contained.

What is this union with God?
Finger to hand, hand to arm, arm to chest and chest to heart.
There is no finger, no me, no God. Only union.

What is this feeling? This dance? This gratitude? This beauty?
Flaws on a blemish of a gnat’s wing,
Which I swallowed….by mistake.