Pallor hid his existential crisis,
Vital fluid, blood, had made no track,
Heaved a massive sigh and shrugged, nonchalant,
Sanguinity made up for what was lacked.
restless and seething
scales strip scales
in befuddled coitus
heads lost, tails lost
in the sloughing
Lengthening the vision from soul to spirit
In eternal gratitude touch permeates
All things ingratiating and forever
The vessel that houses our soul will march on
In tune inwardly familiarized with breath
Of a warm complexion, courage of my life
Force resolute, devoted fidelity
Love, love,love, oh my delighted rapture, love
All doors lead to the center of our heart’s core
Swirling colors bringing reverent voices
Thankful to the Father that gives us our depth
I wrote this poem and I felt led to share it with this particular audience. I’m just trying to go with the flow.
Thank you for reading,
not on circumstance
accepting only of open
still then connected
in the universal
Her certainties are vague and always fleeting, dissembled by a will that’s not her own, her thoughts, though rogue, are always so compliant, this the woman cast in role, she must atone, for something that she’s unaware of doing, for being just a woman here on earth, no ladette this, no bloke, no guy, no rugged master, simply born as female, lost, alone.
Watch her work it out that she’s done nothing, nothing more than black or white or gay, observe her as she claims her own potential, watch and wait, she’ll realise and have her say.
Biblically, she’ll clamour for the wild side, back to nature, earth and Gaia birthed, stand at ready, watch the elemental, working in the flesh and soil, rebirth.
See her rooted back to where she came from, note the stature, see the tree within, growing new limbs, sending where they’re willing, this is she, this is not a he or him.
Woman, by her very nature, growth and nourishment she will provide, intrinsic to her sex, and damn proud of it, watch and see her claim her wilder side.
Time was had and time was spent in waiting for hunter to provide the unit’s needs, they left, they fought, became distracted, forgot the reason why, the mouths to feed.
Woman waited, woman worried, wondered, what the fuck and why the hunter late, discovery of distraction, from the purpose, declared the hunter useless as a mate.
Hear the lioness, the mighty mother, hear the elephant, the whale, the mom, want to see a world in all its glory, give woman time, await the perfect storm.
Late she came. No badge to mark significance. Just another mother, lover, woman. An anyone. And anyone could be her name. Late she came and stayed when all around had disappeared beneath the semblance of a snowfall, an ashen depth of winter dealt untimely. Surreal. And nothing ever quite the same again. It was summer when the dust began and hurried, desperate in its efforts to find base. Surfaces all around, all those in favour, resigned themselves to its reception, gallons of a powder white but tainted, knell of death to those who breathed its subtle lace. Intricate it was, in how it hurried, in a slow descent of wishing where to rest, it flurried and it roasted where it met life, resurrecting even while it met its death. Late she came and swept and swept as always, swept for all the reasons people sweep. And, afterwards, when so much dust still rested, she swept again. And swept. No time to weep.
alert! alert! alert!
divert! divert! divert!
so build the gallery
too seldom seen
we’ll bask in beauty
so help us
from every place
we’ve ever been
and dwell a lifetime
in all its splendours
so much gained
at the pictures
that we’ve painted
we’ll wonder why
we ever thought
will astound us
we’ll pull bricks down
a painted vault instead
in the hands
we’ll wake and see
his clouds became him
gave a gravitas
to shallow depths
his furrowed browline
where he had no thought left
his timbre speaking
of nothings that he knew
as if every word he said
were always true
his false bonhomie
appealing to the mass
a welter of his class
a tangled hotchpotch
of bits of this
and little bits of that
a foppish foolhard
total absence of eclat
his stilted byline
pretender, poseur, politician
ponce for hire
mere mirror of each other
unfit for purpose, fakers, little liars
I don’t go looking for TED Talks but they seem to come looking for me. Today the first blog post I read was on Fi’s page. A blog post of honesty and self-reflection and one that led me to writing this post.
I don’t know Fi all that well, partly because I haven’t followed her for an immensely long time and partly because, during that time, Fi hasn’t always been around. I don’t know exactly what keeps Fi from her blog but, from poems and pieces she has written, I sense someone who, like us all, needs to go searching at times.
The search may lead us to places we would rather not go, to thinking of things we, for whatever reason, need to think on even while those thoughts may not lead us immediately to where we want to be.
The place most, if not all of us, want to be is a place called Happiness.
The Ted Talk below is given by a man whose job title is, for real, ‘Jolly Good Fellow’.
He works for Google and it sounds like an amazing place to work.
Imagine a company whose profitability and success grows by being mindful of its employees, where the autonomy to actively promote happiness, for yourself and others, allows your job to develop in directions almost impossible to imagine. A compelling reason to go to work each day, for sure.
Imagine a step further, if you will, where being compassionate is proven to make you happy – scientifically proven, just one of the hits arising when googling for ‘compassion, happiness, science’.
Imagine then how much fun it is when you feel happy. How freaking amazing it is! Remember happy? That visitor who is sometimes too infrequent in calling, all too elusive in the search.
Imagine if none of this needed to be imagined.
If the equation were C=H.
Let C be Compassion, let H be happiness.
Maybe the equation would look somewhat different to mine but algebra wasn’t my strong point and I could never, way back then, figure out why there were letters where I thought numbers should be.
I understand it a bit better now, recognising that the letters signify an unknown factor to be worked with.
But this equation doesn’t seem to have any unknown factors.
Compassion actually does equal happiness. Tested and proven..
The guy in the video seems like a really happy guy but not a patch on Matthieu Ricard whose happiness quotient, apparently, is off the scale. What was he doing when it was measured? Meditating on compassion (for those who will not watch!)
I seek happiness. I seek it for me. I seek it for others. I get thrown off course at what goes on in the world and, admittedly, by my own wandering down paths that can never lead there although do help on the journey.
And I wonder how happiness for all can ever be possible as long as there are people who don’t care. Sometimes I want to give it up as a bad job.
Except it’s not a job so much as it is life.
I don’t need to work for google. I don’t need to be the Dalai Llama although I would like a blether with him.
I don’t need to carry a card declaring me the ‘Jolly Good Fellow’ (although how cool would that be!)
We could all carry one!
I just need to remember, every time I’m with someone, to be conscious of the thought, ‘I want you to be happy’.
From that one thought for their happiness, that mindful awareness, my happiness quotient grows. I feel it. I know it. Because I also know, when I’m not doing it, the type of day that can follow. I know those days well. Don’t we all?
I could waffle on for ages here, as you know, when the real Jolly Good Fellow says it so much better.
From Google engineer to emotional coach to living a life of happiness.
‘ I’m now semi-retired. My current job description at Google is: “enlighten minds, open hearts, create world peace”. In my free time, I try to save the world. ‘
No one can force us to be compassionate but being happy is a compelling reason. Saving ourselves from misery by saving others first and letting that grow has more potential than all the zeros google could ever add.
I doubt if the child who coined googol and the brilliant minds who created Google itself had any idea of the impact one word, one idea, could have in conjunction with the one highway we use here. A highway so interconnected that maybe it could take us to that place we all so desperately seek – Happiness.
The power of one raised a worldwide times.
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Photograph (c) Peter Macdiarmid/Getty Images............................................................................................ Control of thought is more important for governments that are free and popular than for despotic and military states. The logic is straightforward: a despotic state can control its domestic enemies by force, but as the state loses this weapon, other devices are required to prevent the ignorant masses from interfering with public affairs, which are none of their business…the public are to be observers, not participants, consumers of ideology as well as products (Chomsky)
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