How We Frame It;

The events of our lives 

are not nearly as important 

as how we chose to frame them;

BREAD

 A Story of Bread

I bought some ready lentil soup from the neighborhood market. It’s awesome. Bought some French Bread and a few other items I needed, checked out and went home. Tasted the soup right away. Yes! 

Put the stuff away in the fridge and notice I hadn’t noticed …the bread. 

Arrrghhh. 

Small upset really. Called them and they said they had it, blah blah and I said  thanks-I’ll be in a little later. Damn. 

You see I have developed a strategy to avoid, crowds and congestion. I do my “to dos” that require things from stores, or dr. appts, grocery shopping , etc. between ten and two o'clock. 

It was three thirty now and I thought I was done “OUT THERE”. That’s hw I usually refer to the world at large these days. With dread like Maynard G. Krebs said, “WORk”.

Okay I thought. I’ll ride the bike. I need the exercise but first let’s smoke a bowl for the ride and listen to Pandora through my hearing aids (ah-technology…can’t live with it, can’t live without it.

Two miles max but of course there’s a good Santa Anna headwind which comes out of the desert and blows all of our smog out to sea. Whatever. 

I make it there of course and they are ready for me. The young security guard recognized me from earlier, smile and made a comment about bread. So of course being a lonely old codger, explained how it was the bread that thought of having lentil soup so…

We went on for a while about our mutual admiration for “fresh” bread. I told him I usually freeze half of the baguette which keeps it pretty authentic once reheated carefully. But then I remembered the most important and relevant thing I learned in all the hours and hours I spent in and out of colleges. 

At S.I.U. I had a roommate from New York whose name was Carol. It wasn’t that he was gay or trans or anything. It was 1968 and he was just weird. Those days you had to be significantly weird to stand out from the rest of us who were doing our best to, well-be weird. 

Carol taught me that if you suck all the air out of the loaf of bread you just bought, twist  and tie it tightly, it will taste like day one for most of the week.

He was right. Thank God college wasn’t a waste altogether!

IF THE SEA COULD BOIL...

ILLUMINATE

LOSING THE LIGHT

I haven’t said a wise word 

or written a fine line,

in a long time.

Disconnected,

I am falling from light,

falling from that great height

into an abyss of uncertainty,

fear and self recrimination.

I keep dusting off old medals 

to reduce the amount of shame I feel,

to remind myself that at times I shine,

It encourages me, when I’m lost on the edge 

of my own darkness,

afraid to negotiate the journey

down yet another unknown road.

afraid of discomfort,

afraid of control,

afraid to let go.

I cling to the edge of faith,

defying authority,

resisting humility,

admitting my neediness

I reach out for another’s holy hand.

 Afraid to lose my self

and yet, 

afraid to find myself

I make excuses

to continue playing safe and small.

Admitting this here

is a step through the fear.

I want to live from largeness,

I want to live in and from light,

no longer hiding in shadows 

of my own making.

This world is dark with secrets,

I choose to try

to tell my truth and, 

...Illuminate.

looking good

Looking Good

The Guest doesn’t care what time you think it is, 

or if you are asleep,

and believe you need your rest, 

because you have to work tomorrow.

Work at what?

The guest knows exactly what time it is; 

it is time to wake up 

to the one thing you need to know

which is, 

who you really are.

Dark parts: 

enemies were sent to teach you

how to embrace the unlovable

shadows of your self.

Become whole.

The peace you make with your self

will change this troubled world

into a playground of delight.

What we look like to the world means nothing.

What the world looks like to us

is all that matters..

LIKE A RIVER ROCK

Like a River Rock

Trust:

Be patient like the rock, 

feel life rush through and around you,

Gushing streams of grief

 will wear away your jaggedness,

wash away your madness,

and smooth you like a stone,

Faith:

Be uncertain like a river

and meander to the sea.

That route of least resistance

will speed you home to me,

Strength:

Use courage like a fist

to break thru what would hold you back,

Persevere and friends will support you

with the love you think you lack,

When all else fails, pray 

and be lifted from your knees, 

The light of your divinity

will carry you to me.

12912

GOOD WEED WROTE THIS POEM

GOOD WEED WROTE THIS POEM

I’m pulling old poems out of the archives. 

Because there is nothing new I’ve learned, 

Nothing new to share. 

It feels like the journey is over.

But really, happily

It’s the stress and struggle that’s gone.

No body promised me a bowl of cherries. 

But no one ever taught me how to handle the pits. 

I’ve survived myself

As I like to say to the men

My age who are still here as well. 

Against the odds. 

Here’s to adventure. 

The hero's journey. 

Here’s to not knowing where you're going

But clarity about what it is you are going for.

It usually isn’t until my own honest pain

drops me to my knees

that i surrender who i think i am 

and let that frightened uncertainty

channel wisdom through God

who writes all the poems, 

the good ones anyway.

9/24/19

Playful Otter 

THEY LIED

THEY LIED

Lies:

They taught me to be polite

I said thank you without gratitude,

They taught me to do right and I did 

but it didn’t make me happy,

They said, “Follow the rules” and I did

but it didn’t make me feel safe,

Lies lies lies,

They did the best they could.

Love:

They told me that they loved me

But-I don’t have time for you right now.

They asked, How was your day,

But didn’t take the time to listen.

They said, Go to your room,

When they had no love to give me,

I learned to read by the light of night,

Those stories took my pain away.

Live:

They taught me to survive

In a cold uncaring world,

They said that men don’t cry

So I stuffed my grief inside,

They said, Do good in school

And everything will work out well.

But they were wrong,

They did the best they could,

They celebrated when I walked,

Was joyous as I learned to talk,

 And then I ran and made some noise, 

Sit down, shut up, they said to me,

Or we’ll take away your toys!

When I did as they asked they smiled at me,

When I didn’t obey their love went away,

When I was wild they shook their heads

They wanted me to be more dead,

 I frightened them, I was too free,

They needed me to be like them,

They needed me to not be me.

JUST BY OPENING

JUST BY OPENING

I was told to read something spiritual everyday

So I reached for Rumi but stopped-

A dog barked,

a crow squawked,

I stood and walked into the wild green world before me.

Why read poetry when you are

Surrounded by poetry?

Why read poetry when you can

Become a poem yourself

in an instant 

just by opening to the world around you?

I AM WILLING

AM I WILLING?

I am willing to really feel

how terribly alone and meaningless

 it feels, has always felt

to be separated from God,

to be separated from myself?

I am willing to acknowledge, grieve and heal

that long jagged rend

in the fabric of my wholeness?

I am willing to do, 

to look, to feel, to see 

everything and anything I must, 

to clear the way to admit God.

To open to both shadow and light,

 to welcome all of my selves, 

and become whole again?

I am willing to surrender

my possessions and habits,

beliefs and self-aggrandizing dreams.

Half measures avail me not.

When having God in my life

this moment and the next,

and the next is as important

as my next breath…

That is when God will stop

these fleeting random visits

and take up permanent residence

in the welcoming warmth 

of my own heart.

LIGHT

THE LIGHT

We are so afraid of death

we surrender the adventure!

We choose what we think is safety

when in truth we are choosing fear,

We cannot teach what we cannot reach,

and fear my friends

is far from light,

and light is what all life 
reaches for.

TARA

                                                                                

TARA

WHY DO WE HANG ON SO TIGHTLY TO OUR JUDGMENTS?

HOW DOES JUDGING ONE ANOTHER SERVE US?

REALLY?

LAUGHTER

LAUGHTER IS THE SOUND OF ANGELS PRAYING

I'M BETTER

I’m 70 years old. 

I’m not the man I once was. 

I’m better. 

IRONIC

Lost in our heads,

bruised and broken by relentless thinking

we create our own 

dis-ease

by

the deeply ingrained belief

that 

something must be done

about this compulsive drive 

to do

Something.

IMAGINE

When you do pray, 

pray softly with your fragile faith. 

Become a temple,

Without walls.

Open up like a safe place.

Become a playground and let others swing on you,

 Be the fulcrum in your teeter-totter, 

wrestle in your sandbox.

Become whatever  is necessary. 

Be all things to all people. 

Expand beyond the limits of your disbeliefs,

Imagine…

Imagine God…

Imagine God and You are

One and the Same. 

IMAGINARY LINES

Imaginary Lines

Travel east or west far and fast enough 

You lose or gain an imaginary hour of time,

My bushes divide the piece of earth I claim to own

From the soil my neighbor waters,

Which side of this fence do I maintain?

As Frost remarked,

Walls keep things both in and out,

My view is narrowed and confined 

By my need to define and defend

What is mine

From what is yours.

We will not share this earth,

Instead greed tears it limb from limb,

Fear rapes it

For all it’s worth, for all it’s worth.

Down and down we divide the whole;

The Earth made into continents,

Then countries, states, cities,

Neighborhoods,

Then homes and,

Then the homeless.

Longitudes and latitudes,

Languages and customs, rules,

rights and wrongs.

Seattle said,

The earth does not belong to us-

We belong to the earth.

By pretending to own our meager pieces

Of this cosmic miracle,

This regenerating manna-

we have shrunk ourselves needlessly.

Who am I really?

To what small portion of reality

Do I pledge my allegiance to?

I have forgotten

That these imaginary lines are 

Imaginary.

I made them up

To secure for myself a sense of order and control.

I can organize and talk about things I do not understand

As if I understand them,

And in this illusionary language

That we have all agreed upon to use

And believe in, 

We can converse and understand completely 

One another’s delusions. 

Where exactly do you begin and I end?

Is this skin that separates us

From the earth, the wind

And each other,

Any more real

Than the fence turning to dust 

Between my neighbor’s yard

And my own?

I breathe the molecule of oxygen exhaled by 

A Chinaman 200 years ago..

The sweat from my brow

Will rain upon your granddaughter’s garden

100 years from now…

We are so much closer than we know,

Would you close your door, 

Withhold food from your brother?

What if 

I am your brother?

What if there really are no strangers?

What if enough is enough?

ICING ON THE CAKE

   ICING ON THE CAKE

The soul works through the night

posing possibilities to consciousness.

A dream readies the dreamer

for challenges to come.

Early morning stillness

reveals the status 

of a man to himself.

We are all awaiting the great arrival,

when the random fragments of our searches

come together into one grand understanding.

We are hoping to breathe easier

before the final.. Ah Ha!

Meanwhile, with all this heady poetry

feigning depth and thoughtfulness,

I have once again forgotten to thank God

for my life and all its attendant blessings.

God?

My lust drives my thinking

and I wake up wanting more;

more of this, more of that, 

better, newer, faster,

then just a wee bit more.

Not knowing 

how to slow, stop and fully reside

in this moment,

I stumble sideways, 

wobbly, crashing 

into and through most situations

like some cosmic buffoon,

but no one here is laughing,

especially not myself.

The performance ends,

there is no where to go and nothing more to grab for.

All that I need I have right here.

Air to breathe.

                           Everything after that…

                                                          Icing on the cake.