refusing to notice

Finished Autocracy, Inc. The Dictators Who Want To Run The World, by Anne Applebaum.

Brutal, boorish, broadly mendacious, xenophobic. The men who are taking over the world. And the obsequious tagalongs who pilot fish them.

Of course there are those who pooh pooh any concern. These are not serious people. Dehumanizing propaganda, transnational kleptocracy, covert and blatant corruption. The loopholes bypassing democracy.

It is not hard to understand the real estate underground, the crypto currency money laundering stolen wealth that are blatantly transacted and reported on front pages of newspapers.

Telling the truth, honoring facts, resisting disinformation, eschewing false narratives, not echoing the lies  -- these help. 

It seems freakishly amazing how so many of us go about our lives oblivious and disinterested in the ways our country and the world is narrowing power and control into the hands of so few, so brazen, and so self-absorbed.

Perhaps we should forbid historians and astute observers from noticing what they notice and telling what they notice. Perhaps it is better for our emotional health to ignore the danger surrounding us and quietly lay down and sleep through the plague infecting us. 

Perhaps there is benefit in going gently into that dark night.

nowhere else

The suggestion that the-one-we-call-god is head and heels beyond our comprehension is slowly dawning on me.

This:

Poems of Friedrich Hölderlin

---

 

Celebration of Peace

Please read these pages only if you're feeling kind. Then they won't seem unintelligible, and will certainly prove less offensive. But to those who find my language too unconventional, I confess I can't help it. On a beautiful day almost any kind of song can be listened to, and Nature, where it comes from, will receive it back. The author intends to lay before the public a whole collection of similar pieces, and this is just a sample.

The holy, familiar hall, built long ago,

Is aired, and filled with heavenly,

Softly echoing, quietly modulating music.

A cloud of joy sends fragrance

Over the green carpets. Shining in the

Distance, a splendid row of gold-wreathed

Cups stands, well-ordered, full of ripe fruits.

Tables stand at the sides, rising above

The leveled ground. For now in the evening

Loving guests have gathered,

Coming from far.

And with half-shut eye I think I can see

The Prince of the Festival himself,

Smiling from the day's earnest work.

Though you like to deny your foreign origin,

And even when you lower your eye, tired

From the long crusade—forgotten, softly shadowed—

And you assume the appearance of an acquaintance,

Still you’re recognized by everyone; your superiority

Alone almost forces one to his knees.

Being nothing in your presence, I know

You are not mortal. A wise person can

Explain a lot, but where a god appears,

There is different clarity.

        https://holderlinpoems.com/poems/celebration_of_peace1.html 

The words: "And you assume the appearance of an acquaintance, /  Still you’re recognized by everyone;" suggest something to me I'd not thought of before.

Is it part of the incommunicable mystery of God that the appearance and presence of God is mutable?

        μεταβλητός, ευμετάβλητος, ασταθής. -- changeable, fickle, unstable?

And in Hölderlin’s "kindly" sense, when we recognize the face in front of us, when it "appears" to us in clarity, is it actually becoming the presence of God?

We often say we are looking for God. Is Hölderlin suggesting that by looking at, and seeing, the face that appears before us, we are looking at God?

Is God the appearance of presence in whatever form that arrives at our consciousness when it is free from ideas and concepts, opinions and judgments, fantasies and figments?

In other words, is "different clarity" that which appears when we are "Being nothing in your presence" -- nothing but unadorned body and mind dropped away (thereness/hereness) open to what is presenting itself?

Perhaps "God" is nowhere else.

And the question for us is --Where are we? 

else

 There’s no place 

Else

to go.

So why not 

stay

Here?

(When God 

heard

This)

Everything

Else

Disappeared

all I am

I've forgotten your face.

    I have no face.

    I am God.

    I look like the one who is there in front of you.

I can't hear you.

    I make no sound.

    I am silence itself.

    What you hear is the echo of your own heart.

Thank you.

    No need.

    Everything I do is gift.

    Given without expectation of appreciation.

Goodbye.

    Going somewhere?

    I'm not.

    Here is all I am.

care and conscientiousness

Eighty, hmmm. A good age.

A bad meal. 

Sort of what we're being served these days from Washington DC.

The Buddha died in the town of Kushinagara, at the age of eighty, having eaten a meal of pork or mushrooms. Some of the assembled monks were despondent, but the Buddha, lying on his side, with his head resting on his right hand, reminded them that everything is impermanent, and advised them to take refuge in themselves and the dharma—the teaching. He asked for questions a last time. There were none. Then he spoke his final words: “Now then, bhikshus, I address you: all compound things are subject to decay; strive diligently.”

(---from, Who was Buddha?  By Rick Fields, Tricycle, Spring 1997

Diligently. 

A good word. 

dil·i·gent·ly

/ˈdiləjən(t)lē/

 

adverb 

in a way that shows care and

 

conscientiousness in one's work or duties. 

Care and conscientiousness.

Two additional good words. 

a different clarity

We lack clarity these days. 

Being nothing in your presence, I know 

 

You are not mortal. A wise person can 

 

Explain a lot, but where a god appears, 

 

There is different clarity.

(--from poem, Celebration of Peace, by Friedrich Hölderlin, translated by James Mitchell

Perhaps its because we lack nothing. 

neglect is a form of abuse

 Feminist philosopher and philosopher of education Nel Noddings (1929-2022), held that caring is the foundation of morality.

Noddings was a leading advocate of the ‘philosophy of care’, holding that caring is the foundation of morality. She argued this on the basis that each person’s identity is defined by the set of relationships they have with other humans and the world around them. Noddings did a great deal to develop this approach and she created educational concepts to go with it. 

https://philosophynow.org/issues/152/News_October_November_2022

I don't think Trump, Musk, Vance, their cabinet and various administrators  -- actually care.

They are ideologues. They are scammers and grifters for whom belief in their own point of view, anything other than self-interest or winner take all, is for suckers and inferior people.

We're unsure what to do with this type of hierarchy in America. 

They do not seem to care, or, in fact, don't care.

Morality be damned. Law be damned. Decency be damned.

Only power consumes them.

And it is corrupting.

Immoral people, it could be said, just don't care.

There might not be any strategy, executive, legislative, or judicial, to deal with this current ooze of super-maga saturation of uncaring cynicism.

What will it take to arouse a sense of morality, ethics, lawfulness, and decency throughout the country?

Or are we condemned to live under autocracy, an unrepresented, and depleted people of an authoritarian uncaring and uncircumspect man and his cronies?

The opposite of care is neglect.

In the context of caregiving, neglect is a form of abuse where the perpetrator, who is responsible for caring for someone who is unable to care for themselves, fails to do so. It can be a result of carelessness, indifference, or unwillingness and abuse.^[1]

Neglect may include the failure to provide sufficient supervision, nourishment, or medical care, or the failure to fulfill other needs for which the victim cannot provide themselves. The term is also applied when necessary care is withheld by those responsible for providing it from animals, plants, and even inanimate objects. Neglect can carry on in a child's life falling into many long-term side effects, including physical injuries, developmental trauma disorder, low self-esteem, attention disorders, violent behavior, and death.^[2].    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neglect

We will soon realize that the president of the United States is ruling by abuse and neglect.

Will we care?

Will care rise up to counter neglect? 

sozazen or soza-zen

Stretched out zazen (sozazen), or soza-zen?

I suppose if a neologism happens upon you, some research is called for.

σώσει

Sozo is a Greek word that means "to save, rescue, or deliver". 

It can also mean to heal, restore, or make well. In the Bible, sozo can 

also mean to save someone from the penalties of judgment or from evils 

that prevent Messianic deliverance. 

Explanation 

• Salvation: The Greek word soteria comes from sozo and means "salvation".                                   It describes the deliverance from danger, destruction, or peril. 
• Healing: Sozo can also mean to heal someone from disease or injury. 
• Restoration: Sozo can mean to restore someone to health. 
• Deliverance: Sozo can mean to deliver someone from danger or peril. 

        (AI Overview) 

        Or, alternatively, https://www.biblestudytools.com/lexicons/greek/nas/sozo.html

I’ll have to sit with this.

sozazen (stretching out zazen)

 I am

Waiting

For 

You

To answer

Me

yielding nothing to light

 Reading

About

Doge and

Dimwit

Suddenly

Pale light

Through

Eastern branches

Time

To

Wake

Up

Let’s 

Not be

Fooled

Again

counting

 Yes

First thing

Yes

Zazen

Counting

No cars

winter enlightenment

let it

snow

let it

snow

let it

snow

questo o quello

 no kidding  just this

inclination -- contemplate

what God is, not that

four hours down, eight to go

 after walking dog

went to market, everyone

buying food -- new snow

a soupçon of similies

 like can't get, not teeth

until I learn how much time

I have to live -- as

archeologists scrape, brush 

soil -- as, like, mine, find 

4. repélle tu calíginem

When there’s no place else to go, try prayer.

It doesn’t have to be formal and fixed prayer, but sometimes that kind just appears. Here, courtesy of Neumz. 

1. Nox atra rerum cóntegit

1. Dark night covers. 

 

Terræ colóres ómnium:

The colors of all things on earth;  

 

Nos confiténtes póscimus

We pray to you, confessing our sins, 

 

Te, juste judex córdium.

O just Judge of hearts. 

 

2. Ut áuferas piácula,

2. That you take away our sins, 

 

Sordésque mentis ábluas:

Wash our mind from uncleanness, 

 

Donésque, Christe, grátiam,

And, for your grace, O Christ,  

 

Ut arceántur crímina.

That all our sins be routed.  

 

3. Mens ecce torpet ímpia,

3. Behold our soul lies motionless  

 

Quam culpa mordet nóxia:

In its wickedness and the grip of guilty sin holds it fast.  

 

Obscúra gestit tóllere,

Yet its desire is to put away the works of darkness  

 

Et te, Redémptor, quǽrere.

And to seek You, its Redeemer. 

 

4. Repélle tu calíginem

4. Strongly repel the darkness 

 

Intrínsecus quam máxime,

Which is in us;  

 

Ut in beáto gáudeat

That the blest may rejoice  

 

Se collocári lúmine.

To be set in the light. 

 

5. Præsta, Pater piíssime,

5. Most loving Father, hear our prayer, 

 

Patríque compar Unice,

And you, O Christ co-equal Son, 

 

Cum Spíritu Paráclito 

Who with the Spirit Paraclete 

 

Regnans per omne sǽculum. 

Rule all the ages as they run. 

 

Amen. 

Amen 

 

(—matutinum hymnus 6feb25)

Today, seventy two years after Latin colloquy at foot of altar 6:30am morning mass bicycling from Bensonhurst backyard on Schwinn to old wooden church a mile away, then first Latin class in north 6th street high school an hour, two trains, and three boroughs crossing in 1957, I’m finally grateful for the six plus years of studies in Latin and the additional years chanting it day in day out. 

I didn’t understand it much back then translating Homer and Vergil from Latin and Greek, but others did, and they were impressive. Psalms came easier with repetition. Basketball and baseball were easier. Mad magazine easier still.

But prayer has remained a complex translation. To whom? When? Why? How?

Out there? In here?

• A Being imaginatively recognizable as grandmotherly/grandfatherly and concerned? 
• Or, a fearsome exacting Roman Emperor type with whip and condemnatory scowl with video tapes of every inch and moment of my life? 
• Or, an originary energy suffusing matter with unfathomable potential for being-there in obscure presence silent yet comforting? 
• Or nascent genderless hermaphroditic fluidity of feminine compassion and masculine kindness approximating bodhisattvic encouragement ?
• Or imageless silence replete with unimaginable emptiness in and out requiring stillness and radical presence to enter stillness and radical presence?

I settle with prayer as being-what-is-becoming with open readiness and steady gaze.

Hence, I pray with every breath, every act, every word, every thought, every doubt, every grace, and every configuration of presence, absence, and existence.

“Pray always, pray without ceasing” someone said.

All ways.

For one-another.

One.

No other.

One.

look what’s dawning at edge of frame

 Morning sun sidesteps

East across winter window 

Heading north each day

on-back zazen

only thing left is breath

pulling in night letting it out

ambient see-saw

night office

 Single light on house

middle night down road across

dim sanctuary

candle, invisible — sub

specie aeternitatis 

surge awry

 thing about anesthesia 

is waking up befuddled

after insides poked 

and needled, throat highway