Mother Receeding

The thin membrane
softer than egg shell
more like a soap bubble
holding us in
and keeping the vacuum of space
from devouring us whole
mother of life
we kill you as you give
we steal more and more
not knowing the cost
not counting the risk
We see that you are getting gaunt
and a little frail
but none of us can keep you
heal you
prevent you from slipping away
into nothing

The New Fundamentalism

Let us begin a new Christian fundamentalism.
a fundamentalism striped down, raw and lean
ready to take to the streets and hearts
With pragmatic compassion over dogma, focused on proscribing a good life
rather than demeaning people through restrictive moral codes

One: There is something bigger than me. Live according to what this implies.
Two: A divinity that cares about me personally, as a parent to a child, does not imply I am an equal to God.
Three: My personal relationship does not trump yours.
Four: God is greater than any individual or organization. The only correct attitude in relationship to this is humility laced with gratitude.
Five: The positive uplifting parts of faith are the best parts to live by, so more compassion and less damning
Six: If you condemn people for failing to meet moral standards, you need to take a hard look at what is wrong with you, and fix it.

Condemnation by equals, brothers and sisters, leads to despair. I do not see any value in exerting my religion in such a way as to alienate a fellow human.

Seven: It is not a contradiction to believe in the death penalty, pro-life politics, and forgiveness. However, if you cannot explain it to someone in such a way that they can understand it, you would better serve your cause by abstaining from the conversation.
eight: Individuals that identify as gay are your brothers and sisters.
nine: Individuals from overseas that are seeking work in your country are brothers and sisters.
ten: If you are following your faith, put aside your political views that dehumanize brothers and sisters.
eleven: If you are not making things better for someone in need, then at least don't make things worse through words, actions, or the cult of politics.
twelve: It is patently wrong to make someone feel like crap to make a theological or political point.
thirteen: Science and religion are two different things. Don't confuse yourself by explaining your faith through science. You weaken your argument and debase the power of faith.

Few people care about your ideology, so do something helpful with your faith instead of espousing it.

fourteen: You cannot convert anyone to the faith. That is arrogant and debases the personal integration between the divine and the mortal experience.
fifteen: Not one word you can say can explain God.
sixteen: All people of faith are under attack. Treat anyone of a positive faith tradition as a fellow pilgrim. There are already enough people to degrade us collectively for having faith in the intangible essence of our existence, don't make things worse through internecine theological wars.
seventeen: It is great to explain to people why you have faith, but stop trying to convert people. God is much better at it than you, and you are making things worse most of the time.
eighteen: Faith is about the daily application of the eternal.
nineteen: Faith supersedes political and social issues, even really important ones.
twenty: If you hate someone because of their politics, religion, sexual orientation, or immigration status, you are belittling your faith.
twenty one: try to find at least one person to share your life struggles with. being disconnected creates an arid spirituality.
twenty two: you do not need to let social whims change your faith tradition. That is not the point here. However, you need to separate the illuminating aspects of your tradition with any dehumanizing aspects of your faith communities behavior.
twenty three: You will know you are practicing your faith in accordance with these principals when people ask you why you always seem to have it all figured out.

Renewing Life

In proximity of the old volcano
I persist
being eaten by fatigue
until it devours me
oblivion of concerns
anxiety melting and
burn off the career
tearing out the cancer of failed love
money is not a thought
, anymore
a focus on simple existence
a new suffering
of my choosing
a distance at a time
painstakingly covering ground
a bump, a washboard,
the catwalk
bounded a precipitous fall
water rushes below my feet
and the mountain emerges from the clouds
as I emerge from the woods anew
I pause looking at simple nature
hearing the silence around
this is the end of summer

The Beckoning Rock

Never in my life have I understood Bob Dylan
Until I stood humbly at the base of this monolith
His cadence and tone and words urge me to climb
Climb with urgency, climb thoughtfully
Someone has died here, witness the shrine
Move upwards into that volcanic core
And let those serpentine rails sport
the endless freight trains below

And a stone strikes me, painfully, in the chest
The foot that loosed it far above unseen
I am through the barrier of worlds
and must ascend to get back to Earth
There is no down that is not fueled by failure and pain

The Gorge slowly reveals itself to us
Secrets of the elk grazing on Pierce Island
the lengthening of shadows as time passes to evening
Cracks in stone vary in width
some accepting only a finger and thumb
others demand a commitment of your whole body
an envelopment of stone I find comforting
inchworming between basalt teats
and emerging to the trusted person holding my life line

I come to a corner, where all I can perceive is air
and fear and falling
and the failings of weakness this brings
I practice the disciple of rock zen
I cast aside many weedy thoughts
focus on essential small things
the place for the hand
a suggestion of friction for the foot
This approach always provides success
unless you fall, of course

The clouds pinkening until bats come out
black erratic blurs to the East
we climb into the dark, 400 feet above Dylan's rails
at a point we no longer need to hurry
it cannot get any darker
and then, we are done

We walk gingerly barefoot in the dark
down a trail empty of all, even the ghosts
and we pause only to view the silver stream of moonlight
spilt diagonally across the Columbia

Jim provides the final wisdom
Exhilaration and fear originate from the same experience,
the same adrenaline, the same person
they are only differentiated by intention and perspective

Questions of Mortality

The job of the psychopomp is not to judge the dead. They are just the guide. However the form the psychopomp takes is either gentle or vengeful. Does this not infer some pre-judgement.

What damns us? Does actions, do intentions, do ideas
If I think ill and do good by accident, is that me doing good, or doing evil.
If I do good with no intention and no thought is that good or evil?
If I do evil with no intention and no thought is that good or evil?
If I do nothing with no intention and no thought is that good or evil?
If I commit evil while intending good, is that good or evil?
If I intend harm, in any case can I be blameless? What if I am defending innocense, what if I take no action on my impulse?
Is good conformity to a code of conduct, no matter the reason?
Is good taking intentional action to help, no matter the outcome?
Is good doing no harm, and doing nothing to help?
Is good helping more than you harm?
Is good never harming ?
Can I be evil without meaning to?

Thomas Paine Would be Aghast

heart down to the black beat earth
swollen with the lyricism of the season
pounding blood through the fading veins of militant games
power and guns and the will to kill
for oil or sex or some such swill
I drive a car over your grave every day
and she is whoring for a new blood diamond broach
or an orphan slave crafted handbag by Coach
Bombs to kill tanks and a free air space
oil and money this death is my honey
Libya, Egypt, Saudi, or Bahrain
freedom is second class to Islam and gas
those cats in muslin will be wrapped in it
buried as they are beneath the mullahs and the moolah
theocracy and technocracy what democracy
can they hope for under them thumbs
thugs and clubs and rubber bullets and Americans
I wish we still had a democracy

The Discarded Sand Pale

We must lose the tender sapling
to bring forth the towering Fir
The tree you are has garnered another ring
each strata adding to your strength
but I am so sad to see that spurned yellow shovel
and the discarded little bucket
we used so often enjoyed together
rolling down the beach
I hated the tedious sand castles
but I loved and still love the time with you
you have been the source of my joy
and I pray you grow straight and true
to resists the lashing winds
and the inevitable tests
straining the grain of our life
I hope you absorb the strength of that sea
the smell of that adjacent verdant grove
and the memory of each laugh and each hug
for I have all that wealth to give you
if only you are wise enough to safeguard it
deep in the forest of our hearts.

Thinking of Japan

The tsunami was devastating to watch
the BBC reporter said "there are people in there"
the farms washed away, with food and dreams
villages disappear beneath the bracken
and then there are the atoms
let free from their cage they went crazy
and who knows who will suffer for that
someone somewhere really must be angry with us
i will stick with my paltry problems
taxes and car wrecks and long commutes
for I would not want to test my mettle against Japan

The Corpulant Now

A holiday of sorrow for the heart that burns low
a step at a time away from the sunrise of youth
I long for the time I walked on the surface of the sun
in love dizzying and drunk on life
I miss that heliocentric delight
a curse of age, the decay of love
the heart still beats, but pumps nothing but blood
no heat, no light, not but a hollow sound
a scarecrow in the wind, a straw man of nothing
will that love ever arise from the ashes
or have my wax wings burned off never to return

Marriage

Marriage is to be regressed
once again to adolescence
sitting in a dark womb of solitude and music
avoiding the dread contention of family life
Garcia mentions the celibacy of marriage
is worse than that of virginity
as there is no hope of reprieve over time
This I have learned too well
It was brought home to me that
should you divorce for any grounds
the church will never allow you to marry
live as an adulterer or a fornicator, yes
but never leave your unhappy house
and find a new and honourable love
and divorce itself leads one to believe
a new love is just the same set of problems
wrapped in a momentary blissful lie

Frozen Stone Past

The sun is shining in
uncharacteristically abundant for January
a normally welcome boon
in a generally loveless month
This light this day imparts sadness to me

I weight my vital essence
against the shimmering insolidity
of my reflection in the window
it is hard to gauge which is more
dirty, sun streaked, and wane

I tremble at the thought of death
compelled by yearning not fear
and a pulsing ignoble pathos
and me weakness drains the warmth
from that January sun I steal
with my weak little baby heart

I miss the past where I was glorious
I hate this future of stilled vigor
where I am feebly entombed in crepe and time
I love the elements of water and earth
but I am a lava field not a mountain peak