My Book: The Awful Deed is Done

This is not a Christmas post, as it should be, but now I’m almost finished with an arduous project that has consumed untold hours and years of my life for no other reason than the simple fact that I wanted to answer an age-old and really rather incorrigible question tackled by some of the greatest minds — far greater than mine — down through the annals of history. The result is a book wrestling with the question of just what it means to be human, and now I realize, all too late, how foolish I was to begin this venture.

Once I began this journey, though, I could hardly give up on it without discovering what might lay ahead. And I can honestly say I’ve learned a good bit, so not all has been lost. And I’ve even managed to come to at least a partial answer for myself, so I suppose this is good, too. When I started I allowed myself to imagine the finished product would be something of interest, and even benefit, to others, but I now have grave doubts. Besides, for those who are interested in the same very ancient and very basic question of what it means to be human, perhaps it is better for them to make their own journey anyway.

I say this because for me the journey in and of itself has been as much a part of my conclusion as the bits and pieces of answers I picked up along the way. This is probably true of most ventures, really. You kind of tend to grow into whatever it is you’re after, or think you’re after, which may, of course, change over the course of the journey. Actually, this happens more often than not, and this is good. One would expect, for example, that if your goal is to become a better cook, then you actually grow into a better cook in and through the adventure of cooking, which can be rather hilarious at first, than you do by simply sitting and imagining what it means to be a good cook.

So does this mean I’ve become more human? Or even a better human? I would like to think so, but to tell the truth, I’m still digesting my own conclusions to the matter. At any rate, when I am finally completely finished, I will likely have it all printed up with a nice, glossy paperback cover — or, who knows, maybe even hardback! — then place it on one of my bookshelves next to truly great works, if I be so bold, all so I can look every once in awhile and see my name on the spine next to an important sounding title, maybe like, On Being Human: A Multi-Discipline Journey of Discovery. Yes, that’ll probably do!

And, hey, everyone needs an ego boost every now and then! Who knows but my children might be impressed … especially if they don’t actually read it! And it might provide a conversation piece with visitors, who will also never read it, and they may leave my humble dwelling with a slightly higher, though unwarranted, view of me. This, too, never really hurts anything, unless you let it go to your head. I’m not likely to do this precisely because I’ve read the damn thing too many times already. I know the texture, flow and content all too well. 

I don’t mean to sound too self-deprecating. I actually do like my conclusion. Perhaps I should just publish that in, say, small booklet form. The problem is, it might land in the hands of some far wiser individual, which means almost anyone, who would then question how it is I made it from point A to point Z. To answer this would, of course, require all the previous material, and I know s/he would not want to be so burdened, especially when s/he would do much better to simply read Plato and Aristotle, which is, by and by, almost always the case when you get into philosophical matters. Begin with Plato and Aristotle, then if you need to go further, stick closely with those who stuck closely with them. The rest has been (mostly) drivel.

At any rate, as I said, it is done. The awful, years-long deed it finished. Now, perhaps, I can return to what I do much better, for I am not a philosopher or theologian, an anthropologist or psychologist, scientist or mystic, no. In the end, I’m an ordinary man, who should never have approached such a daunting question to begin with, but now … now I can return to my love of reading and writing poetry, offering an occasional commentary on some current event, even penning a short story every so often, as well as continuing to enrich the dear relationships in my life, carrying on with my daily chores, and nurturing my over-active imagination at night when I lay my tired head to rest.

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An Unambiguous Reason for Living

Why am I living this life, so filled with strife, which cuts like a knife?
It must be I am playing a part day to day in a way only I can play,
While knowing I’m throwing in my cards with so many other bards
Of reality, fighting banality and lightening flashes of some finality
Against which I am powerless, save to be thankful for the tranquil
And abundant happiness that comes sometimes in the adventure
Of which splendor is an ever-present promise for such endurance

Note: Fellow blogger, Kabeer, asked, “Why are you living life?” at the end of his post entitled, I don’t know why.” The above was my answer. Perhaps you might answer, too! Blog your answer and kindly refer back to My World: The World I See.

Time: Friend or Foe? (Free Verse)

Sometimes time seems to fly by so very quickly,
And you wonder where the moments have gone
And what you have really done
Since you last looked at a clock;
And it stuns you to realize how the minutes pass
Without your capturing them to do something . . .
Yet time can seem so slow when you are working;
You wonder if the minutes have turned to hours –
‘Tempus fugit’ is not always the case in this life –
But when time does fly by you often want to stop
And rewind the clock to retake those lost minutes
But you cannot . . . You can only move forward . . .
Ever forward with time, whether so fast (or slow)
Time: Do you have her, or does she have you???

Will It Be Today?

Will it be today, this day, that I hear the good news?
Along the way I wait ever so patiently with my view
Stretched out into the tomorrows of borrowed life
And wonder will I blunder this time or will I chime
With angels in rhythm and rhyme in an alive living?
Oh, will I hear it today that I am free and at liberty?
Will it be today, this day, that I hear the good news?
Along the way I’ve waited patiently with it in view!
Now I’m beginning to feel excitation in anticipation!
Will it be today? Oh, will it be today?

Laugh

Your joy just grows and it shows;
It’s like a whiplash of happiness,
No gaseous flashiness in an uptown
Explosion of giddiness as you drown
In laughter at the coming hereafter;
And youth is renewed when viewed
From behind ~ how kind ~ so smile
One mile wide ~ don’t hide or chide;
You’ve got the right dress to press
On to success and bless yourself
As the world goes to hell
And the bell tolls twelve
As you sell your mockery
For six pence as genuine gleefulness;
Yeah, take it out on the town, girl
And unfurl your flag while you hurl
Your skin-sag bag to the north wind

Laugh.

The Cosmic Body

Α

Swimming quickly past one another,
Fast the burst of neutron stars,
Teeming life in veins and arteries
Near and far make the Cosmic body.

Separate and part of one another,
Sister and brother, an electron
Of families in universal family;
What exists in us, is alive in all,
And we rise and fall together each.

Protons, electrons, quarks in eons
Of timeless Time, ruled by Eternity,
Making one fraternity, cosmic family
Moving galactic arms and legs, and
Bending celestial head; we make our
Bed in stellar sheets in hyperspace.

Ω

Note: This is not my usual style, but I felt compelled to write in free-verse this morning. I hope you, my readers, enjoyed this at least as much as I enjoyed penning it. All the best to each of you w/blessings!

I Will Wait For You

I am here and I’m alive

Waiting for love to arrive
Ill look to you and strive
Like I am a desperate person
Lying here it only worsens

Why wait to take the bait?
A raving appetite to satiate
Ill slam right into your gate
To hear you cry, “checkmate!”

For love belongs to the strong
Over the weak, where I belong
Right or wrong, I sing the song

Yell, then, if you really must
Only please let me in you trust
Until I can taste your stardust!

Note: This acrostic poem inspired by My Silly World

Quote Challenge January, Day Three

The blogger at Inking the Thinking nominated me this time. Please do visit her blog; it’s wonderfully creative and uplifting. Now for this exciting challenge!

Challenge’s rules:

  1. Post on three consecutive days.
  2. You can pick one or three quotes per day.
  3. Challenge your readers to do the same, and let’s spread the love and wisdom!
  4. Consider this a monthly challenge.

Today, three quotes are offered is on the topic of loyalty:

An ounce of loyalty is worth a pound of cleverness.
— Elbert Hubbard

A man who will steal for me will steal from me.
— Theodore Roosevelt

If this man is not faithful to his God, how can he be faithful to me, a mere man?
— Theodoric

As for challenging three others,  I will simply challenge my readers. . . Go for it; you may find an immense blessing as you look into the simple wisdom of someone else!  And again I encourage my readers: Challenge yourself once each month. Remember, it’s only three days, which would account for only around 10% of each month and that’s not a lot.

Annette and Julietta: A Love Story

teen-girls-hugging-outsideFields of flowers, yields of apples, dancing and prancing:
Pretty girls, brown-eyed Julietta, and Annette was brunette;
One was rosette for the other, who for her played clarinet;
Like one, the two played and prayed, and together stayed,
Never strayed in love, like turtle doves, in beauty arrayed.

Annette and Julietta, two blossoms of near-flawless promise,
Budding in form and warm affection; rouge lips for lips
And sips of sweet nectar from growing gardens free flowing;
Arm in arm walks, heart to heart talks, sharing one soul clock;
Miles of smiles, skipping and prancing, stripping and swimming.

Annette and Julietta, one silhouette of finest courtly minuet,
Vignette of an angelic song sung by the stars far flung in sky
Of cloudless night, darkly bright; they lay in softly breeze,
Roll and teasingly squeeze to please, immune to the disease
Of the unkind of stony hearts, closed minds, and spirits blind.

Annette and Julietta, grown and storm-blown but sewn together,
Not to be torn; they were sworn in ever-union so soon as born;
Dancing still across the hills, laughter filled the air so fair;
No snare nor care could quench hot flare of their love affair;
And the maze of their days were unpretentiously venturesome.

HandnHandMany cried, “scandalous,” while others were simply jealous;
Pharisees were zealous; only few thought it something to relish,
And hellish hours flowed like scours for Annette and Julietta,
And though they moved deep into forest keep, and did not weep,
Still they could not leap for joy nor sleep in heavenly peace.

Yet remains flower fields, apple yields, dancing and prancing,
And eternal joy, where bright stars ring and their voices sing,
And left here now only intertwined bones on cold hard stones.

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God, Preachers, and Healing

“You don’t need medication for depression,” the minister taught
As he brought out his chart. “Studies show what you should know;
Nobody gets better with pills for meals, trust the Lord to heal!”
Several mouths in the congregation gave their “amen” approbation.
But the man of cloth saw a sloth in a pew that gave him his cue.

“You there! You look skeptical, not a receptacle of God’s glory!
You’ve never believed, have you? Never received the holy Spirit?”
I shifted on the seat, sifted through my thoughts, and drifted
Back to times gone by for lack of anything to say with no dismay.
“Listen to me, the Lord can heal everything with which you deal.”

elmer-gantry

Smiling, I looked at him sweating and lying; would I start crying?
As he was flying into an holy frenzy, I was trying to keep my cool,
But my face must have given a trace that I thought him a disgrace;
“You don’t trust the Lord, but even dogs eat crust from his table!
Go ahead and tell me, if you die are you going to heaven or hell?”

With that question posed, I rose up tall and straight, without hate;
Looking into his eyes, I could see the lies, and the roil of turmoil;
Slowly I spoke, not to provoke, but suddenly something in me awoke.
“Sir, God has been good; she has never turned her back nor do I lack;
And for so long now the Spirit has been mine and treats me just fine.”

Burning-bible

Already stunned by reference to “she,” the minister could hardly see.
“But you, sir, seem to me like a man who struggles with the repression
Of very deep depression, saying and braying what he wants to believe
Rather than what he needs to receive; a man telling his congregation
What they want to hear, selling them lies while hearts cry with pain.”

Shocked silence hung thickly in the air, blocked any word to be heard
Except mine, so I continued to opine, “You are one sinister minister
And only half-believe and then deceive from your own torn-apart heart,
Instead of talking like a real human instead of balking at the truth;
Instead of being brutally honest, you snootily look down with a frown.”

Truth

Mouth open, spirit broken, he looked now like only a token of ministry;
Among the congregation there were a few cheers, yet some were in tears;
“Now all of you listen to me, see, and be enlightened, not frightened,
And I will tell you, it’s true, God loves you and gives you life anew;
Our mothering God her Spirit freely gives that you and I might live.”

All eyes were fixed on me with mixed emotions, but no bit of commotion;
“Jesú came offering light, life and love from above, but what is unseen
Is far more than what is seen, and no one is keen enough to understand
To steal from heaven, nor leaven the truth with acquired fire of desire;
You ask, but do not bask in glory; your task is in your unfolding story.”

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Still finely suited, the now-broken minister wept, no more pretense kept;
Among the people, some cried, some smiled, some tried to keep their calm,
Applying balm of prayer lifted high into the air, but some would not spare
Freeing themselves in agreeing with what was spoken as some angelic token
Gifted for them to be lifted out of cruel endless course of insane remorse.

Asked what next, I answered, “Go to cross and steeple, but also to people
Who will help bear your burden, and know that medication is not dedication,
But physiological remediation; fly to the good Shepherd, hold him and cry,
But try to remember Jesú called physicians in admission among his apostles;
And our Mother God has been revealing healing medicines since time began.”

ChurchillQuote

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