Category Archives: born again

Ruby Bridges, Civil Rights Icon

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Giant Redwoods, a poem

illustration muir woods 2

Giant Redwoods

(Statements in italics taken from Ethics, by Baruch de Spinoza)

Look farther and farther toward thin blue sky, until the green feathery tops of the trees are like the northern pole on some dream planet.  Put the anger back in its bottle. These trees are generous.  Hatred can never be good.

Your carsickness from the ride up the mountain begins to fade, leaving behind a breathless, weepy echo not unlike your first religious fervor.  Hatred is increased through return of hatred, but may be destroyed by love.

When have you not been afraid?  The random can be scrutinized for meaning, the puzzle solved, when surveyed long & carefully enough.  Anything may be accidentally the cause of either hope or fear.

These trees have plenty of time.  As a child, you stared at Jesus’ sad face for hours, wishing you could marry him  — wondering what it was that made him love you.  Could you sacrifice yourself for the sins of the world, if it was that simple & necessary? Cathedrals turn us small and vulnerable again, for reasons both blessed & cursed.  Devotion is love towards an object which astonishes us.

Vague, starry eyes like yours feel at home here; the air is weighty, burdensome & solemn. You’ve loved trees before; this is different.  These trees have plenty of time – more time than you.  If we love a thing which is like ourselves, we endeavor as much as possible to make it love us in return.

Your nerves are suddenly frozen, by the unaccustomed richness of perfect light.  Your guide is tall & slender, hesitant to speak.  Her mother has the tattooed forearm of a Polish Jew of a certain age.  The knowledge of good and evil is nothing but an idea of joy or sorrow.  Sorrow is [a hu]man’s passage from a greater to a less perfection.

These trees have plenty of time.  She touches your wrist, and for a moment, you, too, want to grow taller, leaving the surface of the earth behind forever.  Shyly, she picks up a tiny pinecone, smaller than a toy.  You both laugh when she tells you this is their seed.  Joy is [a hu]man’s passage from a less to a greater perfection.

These trees have plenty of time.  And all around, their wise, fallen, hollow bodies litter the ground like the bones of saints.  Childlike, you understand a wish to die here, never to leave this hush.  They’re only trees – your neck bent back as far as it will go; only trees, yet wondering if the giants can hear your thoughts.  Love is joy, with the accompanying idea of an external cause.  Love and desire may be excessive.  When the mind imagines its own weakness, it necessarily sorrows.

Is there anything we have less power over than our own tongues?  These trees have plenty of time, growing wise as the Buddha, in their silence.

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Tunneling Bivalves (Lithophaga palmerae), a poem

ilustration tunneling bivalves Shipworm Boring

Tunneling Bivalves (Lithophaga palmerae)

I have eaten stone. I have tunneled through the hardest
hearts. For ten years, I was in the hands of a wizard
who, little by little, made me forget everything I knew

before I met him. He fed me stones. I became a small
soft thing, covered with two hinged shells, digging
farther away from the world outside, the world I thought

would hurt me. I shrank smaller each day, tunneled
deeper. I wanted to disappear. While I was enslaved,
I learned to use silence as a weapon. My shells

closed tight, tried to protect my softness, but the wizard
jammed gravel in and devoured me. We used to swim
together, in dark water, his robes hanging over the pool

like a tent. His robes were warm, and sheltered me.
His robes were stifling, and smothered me. I was not
a good apprentice. I failed all the exams, I was held

back to repeat the same lessons over and over.
He wove elaborate spells to keep me in my place.
He was content for me to be his forever.

I was his slave, though I hated him and made him pay
for my service in other ways. I thought the hardness
of his heart was a sign of God’s presence, of God’s wisdom.

I forgot to look for God’s grace, God’s joy. My tears
fell and anointed the floor. I was like a religious pilgrim
who brought palm fronds home, nailed them

to the wall of her room, slept with one eye open,
to see if dry leaves caught fire. I was a staple
for the wizard, I gave him everything I possessed,

willingly, and when he would not give me the knowledge
I sought, I betrayed him. His anger was mighty,
and destroyed much of my beauty. When I first fled

the wizard’s castle, I felt powerless, I felt alone.
The wizard was happy I was gone — I had learned
the lesson he had been trying so hard to illustrate

all those years. The one about peace, about power.
He was my teacher, for that I am grateful.
Injury comes from inside, I know that now.

I try to remember to feel God inside. Still, sometimes
I forget I am not eating stone anymore. Sometimes
the food I prepare for myself still tastes like stone.

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How Art Thou Received? (a prayer for refugees)

How Art Thou Received? (a prayer for refugees)

Imagine: suddenly, without warning (because that is how war arrives) you are a war refugee! Simply running away from being murdered. And how are you received when you can finally stop running, when you are out of range of the guns, the bombs, the blood? No countries to take you. No one to feed you. You are a skeletal pawn in a skeletal game.

Embalmed corpses declare war on the living and fight for their “territory” against other embalmed corpses using armies of young people; embalmed corpses feeding on fresh, young blood.

I know something is very wrong, somewhere. It must be addressed, and addressed properly. Our prayer, our incantation, our spell to heal, must be more powerfully crafted, more distilled, more essential, than was the horrid spell we are trying to break: a tradition of might over right, strong but wrong, a spell of ignorance which has caused so much harm, and is trying to do more… powered by the love of power, the love of control over people.

The scarred parts of the heart can be replenished; the broken parts, glued; the weak parts, strengthened; the fear assuaged, the pain relieved. But the desire to change, to truly alchemize oneself, spin that straw into gold… the gold of the sun… the silver of the stars… the red planet… the North Star… primal navigation by looking not at the ground, but by looking up, to the sky… that kind of desire doesn’t visit often.

If you want to know where you are going, be sure your map is accurate, or at least doesn’t kill you. Migrating birds know this. Power & Liberation. Slave & free. Joy & Suffering. High & low.

Craving slaves, some are trying to roll us back to serfdom, only they can use our own science & technology to rape us! Serfdom: tied by birth to land. You are a pawn, a source of income; in thrall to your Lord and Master. Freeing serfs is always a struggle. Brute force arm-wrestles the human race, and brute force often pins people to the mat, but… you cannot keep people down for long. The oppressed will continue to spring up and defend their inalienable human rights. All people are created equal: including our ancestors, who existed long before the self-anointed first “private property” owners. Human beings are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights, yes? The earth cannot belong to any one of us. Period. We own this planet. All of us.

 

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Judy Garland and The Banana Tree, an essay


illustration judy somewhere over the rainbowillustration banana tree

A banana tree is a metaphor for life, really… it dies after it bears fruit. It gives its life to produce the next generation. Banana leaves are so useful. Useful when they’re green, and useful when they’re brown. Generation upon generation. That really is a sacred word, generation. WE generate ideas, too. So can’t WE generate more peace, rather than more war? Can’t OUR fuel be love, not hate? Yes, just like the banana tree, sometimes destruction is necessary to create new life… recycling? Reincarnation?

One way of looking at things is to take a leap of faith – decide that when WE die, nothing will be lost; everything will be gained. WE leave behind US a legacy, all of US, shaping the reality of the UNIVERSE. The UNIVERSE is alive through US! The UNIVERSE writes songs and stories and mathematics and music through US! WE are engines! WE are alive! WE are organic! WE, human beings, are evolving right this second! LIFE doesn’t stand still! LIFE adapts, or ceases! LIFE IS EVOLUTION. Trying to cling too desperately to the past is to entomb the SELF in stone, alone, buried alive, dying. WE’RE alive until WE’RE dead.

Value this opportunity. Don’t throw it away. Take care of OUR home, planet Earth. Take care of OUR fellow travelers. Send not a sword, but an olive branch to OUR enemies as well as OUR friends. OUR bitterest enemy may turn out to be OUR best companion. Only time will tell. WE live within moments, WE exist within history, and WE are passionate within the spirit. Train that energy! Use passion to create, not to destroy! Destructive passion, combined with weapons of all kinds, might kill US all. Respond to life with logic AND emotion. Let US use OUR brains and OUR gut. Instead of the falling abyss of dread, the rising flutter of joy… and at the end of life, may WE all have truly, truly, truly found PEACE.

Cue Judy Garland, “Somewhere Over The Rainbow.”

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Kim Davis v. Pope Francis, an essay

illustration kim davis pope francis essay

Kim Davis. Pope Francis. Spirituality. Religion. Compare and contrast. I humbly speak of God to you as you may define him, or her, or them, or it… the way you, as an individual human being making important life decisions define what is good and what is bad… the way you, in your heart, define that force, that energy, that life-giving PRESENCE we have all, at some point in our lives, experienced with joy, or with wonder, or with fear, or with feeling all three of those things simultaneously. No religion carries with it a monopoly on definitions of ethical and unethical behavior!

Kim Davis, professedly a “Christian,” is literally crying with joy over unilaterally discriminating against LGBT people. While at the same time she professes to love “God’s people” with all her heart & soul! Who is Kim Davis to tell anyone, anywhere, whether they are one of “God’s people??” Tell me, what is the difference between Kim Davis & any other extreme religious fundamentalist — whether Zoroastrian, Hindu, Buddhist, Jew, Christian, Muslim, or Baha’i, et cetera? In my opinion, each and every religion spawns its own internal sets of believers who proclaim their personal religion to be the “true,” and therefore the “only,” religion!

For example, extremely fundamentalist Buddhists sometimes enclose themselves into a tomb to starve themselves to death, after spending the previous two years eating only the most rudimentary plant matter — I’m talking bark & leaves! While they are enclosed in that living tomb, they ring a bell every morning to communicate to the world they are still alive. When the bell does not sound, the remaining monks wait a specified number of days, before opening the tomb. Then the naturally mummified (from self-imposed starvation!) human bodies are exhibited as the bodies of saints, or whatever “saints” are called by Buddhists.

It is this sort of practice which has formed my opinion that extreme, literal fundamentalist religion is almost always horrible. It brings out the worst in people, not the best. “Zero tolerance” rules and judgments and penalties, when robotically applied to the human condition, create the opposite of love, the opposite of peace, the opposite of compassion. Extreme, literal, fundamentalist religion is, in essence, a form of necrophilia — summarily dictating to others that religion is dead, carved in stone, that religion cannot evolve, cannot change, when it must. And religion MUST change when faced with new, and undeniable, scientific discoveries, rapidly evolving technology, and physical, planetary changes — all three of which result in “earthquakes.”

These scientific and cultural and literal “earthquakes” bring with them frightening shifts in the primary causes of human suffering. Shifts which must now be dealt with using something more than ancient, beautifully written, but now outdated, and therefore “mummified,” religious, doctrinal texts.

Pope Francis is a good example of someone who is at the opposite end of the spectrum from an extreme, literal fundamentalist. He seems to be actually speaking out against the largest, most pressing, environmental and social evils we currently face. Kim Davis is an equally good example at the fundamentalist end of the spectrum — someone who is not, in any real sense of the word, a spiritual person. She seems to me to be simply an authoritarian, judging person who understands little about love, the human condition, our planet, the vastness of the universe, or the mysterious, ultimately unknowable nature of God.

And I, for one, am already heartily sick of hearing about her.

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