Blog PostsFriends | BlogLearning to Look at Our AngerLearning to Look at Our Anger Anger limits us. But if we have the courage to look at our anger and its causes and to learn from it, we can develop an open heart—a heart of genuine compassion. —Jules Shuzen Harris, “Uprooting the Seeds of Anger” Ignorance, Fear, Anger and Hatred Diminish all That’s GoodIgnorance, Fear, Anger and Hatred Diminish all That’s Good Don’t believe me, see for yourselves: paucity of heart, judgmentalism in excess of reason. See for yourselves, don’t believe me: warped humours laud other’s failures and suffering. Don’t believe me, see for yourselves: owning every non-consensus, obscure proof, pridefully. See for yourselves, don’t believe me: gotten from media’s opinions, maybe, who really knows? Don’t believe me, see for yourselves: loud voices bloviate to drown dissent before it’s heard. See for yourselves, don’t believe me: exhaling authority, subterfuge reigns as perspicacity. Don’t believe me, see for yourselves: tired old tropes extol opinions abandoned long ago. See for yourselves, don’t believe me: twisted, hollow speech, surely unnoticed as errancy. Don’t believe me, see for yourselves: harsh, direly worded demands to be agreed, or else. See for yourselves, don’t believe me: circular debates, imprecisely mystify and obfuscate. Don’t believe me, see for yourselves: ignorance, fear, anger and hatred diminish all that’s good. Compassion For Those Who Harm Us"The law of karma implies that we must assume our share of responsibility in what happens to us. This is easier in the case of happiness and when positive developments occur in our life. But in adversity, I find it a source of deep wisdom. It has allowed me to become friends with what I would otherwise deem bad and therefore reject."—Phakyab Rinpoche and Sofia Stril-Rever, “Gratitude for My Torturers” St. Wetwalker’s TaleSt. Wetwalker’s Tale He’s got a tale to tell that spans the seas. Swimmers, boaters, and fishers go rigid To hear. It speaks of rancid odours and Putrid, plastic waste that to all tangled Nets do cloy and cling. And thereupon Lies the foulest, dour perfidies wrought Upon man, beast, and green liquid waves. . Telling of deaths sold wholesale in early Morning markets. And of shoppers who Haggle with white-aproned dealers who Feint and wriggle about costs and prices. “Iced seafood,” they cry! Well they should. It’ll be a gram of mercury sold with each Chilly kilogram soon. To sizzle on a hot Griddle or fried deep in trans-fatted oils. And garnished with only the best plastics Money can buy, freshly discarded at sea. Netted where nearby other fetid plastic Islands of detritus float, sluggishly aswirl. Modern times with their forever utensils And bags are what feed the fishies now, All praise the permanence of capitalism’s Foul, poisoning, plastic waste! So chew Lumps of savoury stew, made with poly- Carbonates, scallops, shrimps, and some Of our best, sleekest, finned friends too. St. Wetwalker got his white wings when He rescued an ensnared Dodo, it’s been Said, caught by a heaving agglomeration Of flotsam and jetsam and turbid oils that Reflected the sun when there were no thin Clouds weeping acid rain’s searing wisps. Mental Pain and ForgivenessMental Pain and Forgiveness Like the pervasive blare of a klaxon’s shocking Disharmony, or as quietly, dull and throbbing As a toothache’s fevered misery, isn’t mental Pain one of the worst things we can endure? It steals upon us, unawares, as the consequences Of our feckless, heedless actions, boomeranging Back to each one of us as the sums of misspent, Karmic iterations of intentions lacking clarity. Mental pain is often braved as grim, trembling Fear, or its awful, destructive twin, lurid anger And hate. First visiting when we’re young and Have no defense to protect us against those who, Even unawares, caused us such lingering harms. There are many ways to mask or redirect mental Pain: addictions, work, sex, psychotropic drugs, And psychotherapy; even religion and prayers Can lift its weight for a time, but not for good. Efforts to quash those skulking pains that lie in Wait in our tender psyches, to emerge, always at The worst possible times, often lull us into placid Complacencies, such as, ‘it isn’t too much to bear. What I got from the doctor seem to be working, What a relief to not suffer those mental pains.” But they’ll return until they’re dealt with, finally, For good. Forgiving oneself for the blame we’ve Taken upon ourselves, often at an early age, is one Of the most effective ways to put those cruel pains Away. They’ll always remain, as shadows of what Used to be, but only as the lingering, half-forgotten Echoes of the old intensities of pain we lived with For so long, suffering helplessly. It won’t be easy. Many disagree and say anger is good, its energies Can be redirected to positive outcomes. But I say, Nothing good ever comes of fear, anger or hate. None of them will ever create a permanent legacy Of genuine mental peace like self-forgiveness can. Without constructive solutions to the toxic miasmas Of fear, anger and hate, we’ll continue to suffer mental Pain, doomed to a life of despair about our chances to Experience the blessings of self-forgiveness, and the Renewal of good mental health. One practical solution Lies in the difficult but valuable art of self-forgiveness. The Heart’s Sentinels Are Never SilentThe Heart’s Sentinels Are Never Silent He smiles and nods slightly so the bifocals let him see What his keyboard wants to say to you alone, softly. These lines, etched in timeless love, to my adored one. We haven’t yet met but by the poise of serendipity, we shall. In timely panoramas of importance, now remaining in wait, Or in times fated so to become. You know it, and feel it too! Joining, predestined to be two hearts beating alike as one. Love’s pulse will be our unerring guide, and when we find Each other, doubtless beliefs shall then bloom anew for us. Two destinies inextricably entwined, if it isn’t this kismet’s Time to claim, we’ll each be damned to suffer lost loves, but Love each other, even so, forever, in every way, helplessly. You are meant for me and I for you; through long ages of Searching amidst the forlorn despairs of love’s sought and Almost found to no avail, no matter, our love shall prevail. That’s a heart’s promise I plan to keep. I sense you nearby, Perhaps just a glance away. You can you feel me too, I know it. I shall abide here now, waiting to love you with all my heart. Foolscap’s Foolish WhispersFoolscap’s Foolish Whispers Scribble, scrawl, jot or write to say what’s in mind. For what most needs drafting or crafting, there aren’t Limits. Polished again sowing ideas deep; meanings Made clear in reader’s minds, that’s the hopeful brief. Flying free like a mustang’s wild mane, or vividly Arranged in imitation of pointillism’s impressions Of form in disordered coloured dots, our vexing English words refuse to be just one thing. Oh woe! Harder still to situate ideas in a reader’s mind to Match one’s own. Be it ever daunting, the writer’s Acerbic curse is to marry words into the hollows of Another mind’s own frames of reference for what’s Yet been sown and known, or else, curiously, not. Something to Think AboutSomething to Think About "Once we perceive, we habitually jump to thoughts and feelings about what is being perceived. These thoughts and feelings, rooted in past experiences and conditioning, then influence the mood of our mind. When perception, thoughts, and feelings are repeated or imprinted through experiences, they solidify into view or belief." —Ruth King, “Mindful of Race” A Drink From Your CupA Drink From Your Cup A scary query, or two: if I were, quite unawares, To drink from your spiteful cup of anger and hate, Would I also then become infected with a paucity Of love for my fellow men, women and children? Would I then begin to judge others based wholly Upon race and birth nationality, the triggers that Inflame your hatreds so; no matter that they too Worship at the feet of gods that teach kindness, Forgiveness, tolerance, compassion, and love? Would I also then judge them for the beliefs They carry as they go their own ways to the Life – destinations they’ve chosen, through The challenging byways of their behaviors to All others, not seen to be exactly like yours? The Last Apprentice’s QueryThe Last Apprentice’s Query The young one asks the last of the old ones, “we be gone soon?” The old one looks up, aware of the voice but unable to see who Speaks because of thick, milky cataracts that blind her to all but Light and says, “yes, I’ve told you this before. ”We won’t have Any more babies because our genes have mutated, we can’t any Longer procreate as a species, dying, we’ll soon have gone extinct.” The apprentice looks down and asks the old one, “you, the ones of Your time and the time before, did this, didn’t you?” The old one Pauses before answering, furrows form on her parchment-smooth Brow. Then she answers, clear-voiced, but slow, “ yes, all the ones Who were here before wanted more. They advanced from alchemy To basic chemistry and finally, in their hunger to consume more, Found the antidote to life itself, the poisoning of all life, unto our Extinction in just a few short generations, a few hundred years.” The last apprentice looks down and says, “if we had a future, we’d Never be able to forgive you for stealing it from us, but as it is, we Haven’t time for hatred nor blame, for where all have gone we, who Only wanted hope, have had that taken from us, so we too will soon Die, neither missed nor remembered, but the future’s loss will be far, Far greater than ours, for no future is worth having, if it lacks hope.” Not Holier Than ThouNot Holier Than Thou Inspired, so-called revealed, divine words of Gods and ancient prophets enslave humanity, Incite cruel laws and harsh examples of how The perceived morals of each man, woman and Child should be judged, rewarded or punished. The ‘fables of historical invention’ designed as Parables to illustrate those words, will teach us What we need to know to be ‘holier than thou.’ But beware, they who insist upon obedience to Those ersatz divine words have a sick agenda of Control enforced through conformity of belief. They, so-called ones who have ‘heard the call,’ And who, it follows, are materially supported by And profit by the worship of our faiths, want us To believe their interpretations of the same tired, Ancient dictums. But, it’s all just lies fashioned From whole cloth to keep our generous offerings Flowing into their closely-held, tax-free coffers. Without embedded ideologies, most all human Beings naturally adopt kindness and selfless Motivation and goodness toward the plight of Every person who is, observably, in real need. And they contribute to and depend upon others As the best, long-term strategy, proven to create The means to ensure the survival of the race. Those rare members of our species who display Genuine humility and compassionate concern For the welfare of all are revered as righteous By their gentle, fearless faith in the sanctity of Non-violence, and generous, loving kindness. Authenticity is at issue when a choice of who Or what to believe and emulate is required, As we seek to advance our life journey’s way Forward to a destination that, finally, proves our Sincere commitment to a life of good works, And happiness for ourselves and all others. We learn about the good in life with discernment Using experience as we encounter it, as a mentor. We trust the counsel of righteous ones, and study, Seeking guidance for our life’s newly discovered Ties to love, attainment, fear, anger, and losses. Much can be learned using guided insight to inform Our thoughts and conscious decisions. And wisdom- Seeking commitments to meditations designed to Calm the mind, eschew violent thoughts and actions, And cultivate equanimity and the clarity of peace. Moreover, it’s easy to see that wisdoms gleaned From the lessons of trusted teachers, from books, Or from those insights met through rigorous self- Examination all have equal potential to guide us. So, never believe anyone who says they are ‘holier Than thou,’ because in reality, such claims are just Spiritual sleight-of-hand-tricks designed to play on Our raw emotions for the benefit of the poseurs who Prey upon seekers of comfort and reassurance for Ego gratification, self-aggrandizement and profit. Show Me Where It’s Most Tender, I’ll Cry You Some TearsShow Me Where It’s Most Tender, I’ll Cry You Some Tears Cuts, scrapes, burns, bruises and lacerations, Sit briefly on our porous epidermis, visible, There for all to regard, like badges that say, “Look, it could have been ever so much worse, I got off lightly compared to what could’ve Been, wasn’t I lucky?” And then they fade. But looking deep into the wounded eyes of a Person can take us on a journey under the skin To find their secret life’s most haunting aches; Those that won’t go away when they worry over Them with metaphorical teeth and nails. They’re Deep, layers upon layers of agonies, intermingled At an inner forge by time’s hot hammer and anvil. Those old wounds, I say, need to bleed out and go away. They’ll resist and bemoan that they’ve not yet suffered Enough. But when they’re dredged up to the light, they’ll Shrink, as they fear the cuts of fresh tears falling, one by One. And then the torrents of release will flow. Quickly, Like light rain’s patter on eyelashes, to be dashed away. Blues Riffs on a SaxophoneBlues Riffs on a Saxophone A correlation exists between listening to Blues saxophone riffs arc effortlessly up To angelic lilts, and then drop, suddenly, To those long, sonorous notes that reopen The half-forgotten wounds of my heart. Those damn, sad, blaring amplitudes, Break me up, and remind me of when The semblance of our love was a surety Bonded by possessiveness. And of those Times when, as one, we shared everything. Or are they just more cloyingly sweet, Life illusions? Or perhaps they are just Fervent thoughts of bygone moments Guarded in mind to endure throughout My charmed life, and surviving now As long-treasured memories, held in The secret recesses of a heart that still Recalls old memories of old wounds. Prana, A Vital PrinciplePrana, A Vital Principle Where it comes from is a question that shall Be asked by all the disciples of all the masters. But by its very essence of quiet profundity, The question shall ever remain unanswered. Yet, if blessings from good thinking, good Speaking and good acts bring about delicate Juxtapositions of karmic balance, we will, Rightly, feel that we have contributed to it. |