I no longer know
what I am doing here.
Did you ever know?
No, never.
Then, what’s changed?
I no longer want to know.
Oh!
Yeah.
Did you ever want to know?
I don’t think so, no.
Saturday, April 05, 2025
you can't be forever blessed
An American Tune
https://youtu.be/O6cfYS-LVEQ?si=QmkF8u3NOfqFtdmX
Many's the time I've been mistakenAnd many times confusedYes, and I've often felt forsakenAnd certainly misused
Oh, but I'm alright, I'm alrightI'm just weary to my bonesStill, you don't expect to be bright and bon vivantSo far away from home, so far away from home
And I don't know a soul who's not been batteredI don't have a friend who feels at easeI don't know a dream that's not been shatteredOr driven to its knees
But it's alright, it's alrightFor we lived so well so longStill, when I think of theRoad we're traveling onI wonder what's gone wrongI can't help it, I wonder what has gone wrong
And I dreamed I was dyingI dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedlyAnd looking back down at meSmiled reassuringly
And I dreamed I was flyingAnd high up above my eyes could clearly seeThe Statue of LibertySailing away to seaAnd I dreamed I was flying
We come on the ship they call The MayflowerWe come on the ship that sailed the moonWe come in the age's most uncertain hoursAnd sing an American tune
Oh, and it's alright, it's alright, it's alrightYou can't be forever blessedStill, tomorrow's going to be another working dayAnd I'm trying to get some restThat's all I'm trying to get some rest
Songwriter: Paul Simon, 1973
American Tune lyrics © Sony/atv Songs Llc
sein;christ … being;christ … to/be;christ
am I christian
you ask, i say
Without church
or religion
Without scripture
or cafeteria
I am
idiothythmically
nakedly
sein;christ
(Being;Christ)
Where what is
Is;Christ
as it is
to/be;christ
In Itself
As it is
sein;christ
Is what
I am
none are so blind as
Is he insane?
Is he cruel?
Temporizing
Questions
Of course
He is
Only the
Obtuse ask
Everyone else
Knows, sees, hears
The obvious
Truth, sight, sound
Friday, April 04, 2025
remembering
Martin, in 1968 today
I was in Washington DC
when you were shot
I grieved, then
I grieve, now
not an ethics hypothetical
Google says: "The so-called Trolley Problem was first discussed by Philippa Foot in 1967 as a way to test moral intuitions regarding the doctrine of double effect, Kantian principles and utilitarianism."
Teaching it at university was always an interesting, if not annoying, class.
Yesterday, a version of the thought experiment took place in Bristol Pennsylvania. Only it was a version that thought cannot abide.
Amtrak suspended service for several hours between Penn Station in New York and the main rail station in Philadelphia after one of its trains struck and killed three people in Bristol, Pa., on Thursday.
The train hit three people on the tracks at around 6:10 p.m. near Bristol Station, according to an Amtrak spokeswoman. The train was traveling from Boston to Richmond, Va. There were no reported injuries among the 236 passengers and crew members on the train, the spokeswoman added.
The police were responding to a call around 5:58 p.m. that multiple people were on the train tracks, Bristol Borough Police Chief Joe Moors said. As officers walked up the hill to the tracks, Chief Moors said, they saw the train hit all three people. Bristol is a small community about 20 miles northeast of Philadelphia.
The three people were members of the same family, he said. It is not immediately clear why they were on the track. No further information was released as of Thursday evening.
https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/03/us/amtrak-train-crash-bucks-county-pa.html
My grandfather was chief steward employed by Pennsylvania Railroad in the 1950s. He'd tell us tales of his looped travels from NY to PA to Chicago and back. We always knew what the weather would be in two days when he returned home.
This sad event is not an ethics hypothetical.
Why were they on the track?
Why are you where you are?
There's no one solution to Foot's proposed problem, here embellished.
Years ago I travelled this Amtrak route monthly to Pennsylvania to do training sessions for supervisors and managers at an agency working with children and adults with developmental challenges. I knew the route well.
I look out my window in Maine.
What metaphoric train rocks and clacks around a turn coming upon me where I am on the tracks of inopportune conveyance?
If prayer is of any use, I say a prayer for the family. What prayer I say is suspect and suspicious. It is the plight of contemporary culture to pray and call prayer into question at the same time.
If there is God, or a God, I'm fairly sure God or a God understands the plight of the one praying and the ones being prayed for.
That's the complex theological problem which might be or not being taught at university today.
But, as quasi-retired lecturer in philosophy and untiring inquiry -- it is what is trying to teach me,
(See that wording?)
It is, what is, trying to teach, me.
Oremus pro invincem!
confabulation
Being feared
is not
Being loved
Fools prefer fear
Wise ones understand
only love liberates
We live in a time
of fools; we long for
a surround of love
Do you remember
love and fear -- confusing
them -- try again to see it
through. Being is love
non-Being is what fear
(the narcissist) sees
unreflectively --
seeing only self
limited and uncaring
Thursday, April 03, 2025
who's that knocking at my door; ne me quitte pas
We're not "spiritual" because it is a handy habit that improves our health and ability to cope with the demands and difficulties of this existence. We practice spirituality because the very existence of this world relies on ongoing access to a reality that subsumes a greater reality beyond which the foundation and subsistence of Being-Itself becomes a presentiment of what-is-to-be, an intuitive becoming of what-is-emerging, as it emerges, with an admixture of participation and subtle influence.
In other words: Is spirituality that way of being which embodies the future by embodying the present as it embodies the origin/past in its real and current manifestation?
...spirituality is not simply a matter of individual choice, individual beliefs, or individual actions. Rather, spirituality is a force that we encounter in the world itself, one that conditions the
intuitive engagements that individual subjects have with the world and that also shapes the very material make-up of the world itself. Both subjects and objects are affected by—and, in a certain sense, affect—spirituality, even if this affection happens pre-consciously, pre-theoretically: intuitively.
Spirituality, therefore, is a dynamic, vital force that shapes our pre-theo-
retical horizons—not just intra-subjectively, but supra-subjectively, includ-
ing the very material make-up of our world—in a way that is necessary for
experience itself but of which we may not be consciously aware, even as
we are being guided by it.
(--p.56, in Phenomenological Spirituality and its Relationship to Religion, by Neal DeRoo)
Looking into one's interior horizon, one looks into the inner horizon of that wherein we reside. The inner looking into the inner. The particular interior gaze reciprocated by the greater interior gaze. Like the psalm -- deep is calling upon deep.
Why bother?
The external world is one of flux and flight, barriers and fight, constraints and deadends. Witness the shenanigans and posturing in the world of politics and dualistic ideologies. It is a push-me pull-you of arrogance and ego seeking to impose personal will for purposes of acclamation, reward, and external satisfaction.
What if . . .
What if all that exterior and external aggregation is actually sliding illusion forming and reforming the unnecessaries of existence (that which stands out and away from, the partial) -- away from that which is core and constancy of immoveable and unchanging wholeness -- the authentic diversity of what is most real versus the pretend accomplishment of fabricated things and stuff that take as their essence that which is corruptible and transient.
Is there an incorruptible realm that is opposite the corruptible realm of human enterprise and transaction?
Perhaps the reason to bother considering the descent into the interior spirit of reality is to discover the intransigent and incorruptible. That realm where the essential is invisible to the eye. That intuitive atmosphere where what we see is what is there. What we feel is that which is truly being, felt. That which we think is what is being, thought.
I do not know what this submersion into the depths of Being would consist of. I do know that the incursion into that realm has been the jarring stuff of mystics and saints, arhats and masters, mahatmas and gurus who've transcended, if only for a brief spell, the surface of perception for the dizzying boundless immersion into, (what can we call it), What-Is-Truly-Here, What-Is Truly-There, What-Is-Wholly-Nowhere.
Not everyone is interested in such a quest.
Perhaps, not many should be so interested.
Such a "not just intra-subjectively, but supra-subjectively" would be dizzying and disorienting.
Perhaps such caution is reflected in the warning in scripture that no one can see the face of God and live.
There be dragons in that terra incognita, in that unexplored terrain that drops through, into, below, and beyond what is known.
I understand the hesitancy and the caution.
Never go anywhere you're not called.
Still, we listen.
Deep in the night and deep in the day, we listen.
But, I suspect, any sound is filtered through our fear. We're mired in duality. We fear what is good is also what is evil. So we stay put, warn others off, and stand our ground against perceived enemies and potential wrong turns.
Is it something that looks like fear?
https://youtu.be/zsl8jEIddJc?si=_LUIqHPfYgnr1a-H
https://www.bluegrasslyrics.com/song/whos-that-knocking-at-my-door/
Or, something that looks like love?
https://slimmersion-france.com/resources/culture/lyrics/ne-me-quitte-pass-jacques-brel/
Our task seems to be the question of fear or love.
No hurry.
No worry.
There's no place to go but here.
Right where you are, be the right you are.
misérichorde
Remnant
Religion
Sits
Silently
Trying to
Remember
When
Namelessness
Seemed a
Comfort
When The Name
HaShem (הַשֵּׁם)
Unpronounceable
Merely gazed
At wet road
A rainy memory
Confit-I-or . . .
Misereres
Sharpen the
Miséricordes
Our medieval
Dagger obviating
Wounded
Continuance
Out of
Mercy
wakeless
This, too,
Shall pass
This breath,
Gone
This country,
Knifed
An idiot
Rules
Christians
Mock God
Dollar is
Christ
No antidote
for ignorance
Buddhists
Walk (kinhin) away
Fools’ folly
Formaldehydes
Our lifeless
Souls
In ditch
A red cap
It was
No accident
There
Will be
No
Calling hours
Wednesday, April 02, 2025
bensonhurst style
I suppose it sounds
Gratuitous to say the man
Must be demented
We don’t talk about
A man in an important
Position as being clinically
An as*hole, I apologize, the truth
Isn’t easy to articulate
But he is very very off, sadly
Making everybody suffer
Except his buddies, smacking
around the rest of us, and I’d
Wish for him to be punched
In the face in front of everyone
Give him a bloody nose
The way the neighborhood
Dealt with arrogant bullies
When the time was right
As it is
right
now
pore over this
If you’re
Self absorbed
You are a wet and
Laden sponge
If you have
Let go all you carry
you sit high & dry
As sage of sink —
Squeezed empty
Ready to cleanse
Soul asks for enough
Water to wipe away
Accumulated fear
useless remnants
To begin again
To remember origin
Tuesday, April 01, 2025
playing one's hand
Trying to decide whether to immolate myself in front of the Federal Post Office, or, to open the second container of Coffee Milk by Oakhurst. It's a hard decision. Someone could take a photo of my burned body next to the sign "This Toast is for Trump" and try to sell it to the Nebraska Sentinel and Morning Post for big bucks.
On the other hand, I could put off the coffee milk for another time and put off the conflagration for never and continue listening to Peter Baker and Susan Glasser's book The Divider (c.2022). It is, nevertheless, hard to imagine a less qualified, more morally and characterologically flawed human being as president than the one from 2016 and 2025.
Even the zippo lighter and red gasoline can understand the futility of trying to make a statement when there are no ears or eyes interested in anything said or done. They hide themselves behind the dumpster and look for a vw beetle gas tank and an open pack of Camels to put their lives back on the path to meaning. Surely, they think, the price of a first class piece of mail will drop, and pizza will no longer think pineapple or anchovies are seemly adornment for what goes into a large "You've tried the rest, now try the best" pie box.
They say spring has come
And the sky is filled with mist,
Yet on the mountains,
No flowers, only snow.
Ryokan (1758-1831)
Dog snores by chair.
Paul G. Tremblay's Cabin at the End of the World (c.2018) paperback sits on passenger seat of truck. It was 75% off at GoodWill, a steal for 26 cents. Stephen King's blurb said he really liked it. We need a more palatable horror than that of Pennsylvania Avenue.
The grey Volkswagen turns into driveway.
The pot's right. Go ahead, deal 'em.
Let's get this game under way.
I'll have a sarsaparilla, barkeep.
Keep the change, honey.
I'm feeling lucky.
Count me some chips please.
Ain't it great to be alive!
the intersection of itself
Sociopaths
Gathering other
Sociopaths
No conscience
Emulating
No conscience
Uh oh —
All goes to
Willful greed
The deviousness
Of separation
Into othering..,
Can wholeness
Re-emerge can
holiness reincarnate
Can mind, heart and
longing (will)
Intersection one another
Crossing (momentarily
and finally) that which
seemed separate & suspect
This intersecting reality
holding no opposition, no
sameness, as through-ing
(Yes), through-ing,
The movement through
one as other as one
Having to see, having to
feel, having longing-being
turning with what is turning…
No sociopath can abide
What is turning through
The intersection of Itself
We need to name, need
learn to pronounce what-is
Emerging through (yes)
This
(Yes)
Love
Monday, March 31, 2025
turn turn turn
“Awareness of being is happiness.” (—Rupert Spira)
Being is happiness in awareness.
Happiness is being-awareness.
“Is” happiness awares being.
go ahead, reach for it -- ha
the lyric went: "Nothing's
gonna change my world"
We missed it. They were
singing "Nothing" is gonna
change my world. As it does,
does nothing, it changes
everything in ways that
somethings never can
Jai Guru Deva, Om all across
the universe, nothing changes
everything, everyone, everyplace
glorifying (divine) teacher
Sunday, March 30, 2025
ask it, ask it now
Myanmar suffers earthquake
Gaza suffers hamas and Israel
Ukraine suffers putin and Russia
America suffers trump and maga
I suffer you, you suffer me
What if Being were our conscious joy
words, words, as if all worlds were there
World
Is made of
Words
Speak well
A world of
Peace
Speak poorly
A world of
Tears
Become
A poet, save
The world
Cf, A Token, poem by Robert creeley)
into the light of the dark bright night
No need to know where
you’ve been,
you were never there
Redwing blackbird, a brief
while on bare branch
Flies off eyeing feeder
La vie est drôle
We never been nor seldom are
Where thought thinks we’ve been
or are --
It’s a magic trick, memory, presto
chango, hoc est corpus meum, hocus
pocus —
When we realize this, there is no there
There
Nor, hardly, any here
Here
Smoke and mirrors, in Hebrew
“I will create as I speak,
Aramaic "I create like
the word" (אברא כדברא),
avda kedavra – “what is
said must be done.”
Given time, everything is
Spoken into existence
Everything spoken out of
Existence
Speak now,
Then,
Be silent
The world comes
The world goes
Blessed be
the surrounding
Breath
sounding
Itself
Into appearance,
then
Disappearance
You were only
Waiting for
this moment
To arise
When you
think
about it
What
Really
Is
There
Here
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