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Love Divine
Love is all around;
permeates our atmosphere
without disturbing
the currents.
Like a holy spirit,
An element of the Dao,
Or the winds of Karma
Love is all around.
How we choose
To interact with Kindess
Is the ultimate
Ponderance.
From Dogen to Rumi,
Our answers fall short.
Yet there is beauty in
How we choose.
Maybe one day,
The gods will
Speak directly to
Our brothers and sisters.
Love will find us,
Choose us,
And tell us:
"Maybe one day."
Let today be that day.
Because love is all around us
And we have a choice
In divine interaction
What now?
What can I do
And what's been done?
Embrace the monotony
Or employ some fun?
Do what I'm told
Or define my own role?
I could do both,
But I'd be digging a hole.
Caving in two directions,
My colleagues see.
Not who I am.
No: a split personality
"You cannot have both."
"You're trying too hard."
"Pick a lane!"
"You'll never get far."
They don't say;
It's all in the show
They act like they
Don't want me to grow.
I posit to you:
What should I do?
Believe that others are valid and right
Or forge my own path this unholy night?
100 Languages
--Much appreciation to
Loris Malaguzzi (translated by Lella Gandini)--
NO WAY. THE HUNDRED IS THERE
The child
is made of one hundred.
The child has
a hundred languages
a hundred hands
a hundred thoughts
a hundred ways of thinking
of playing, of speaking.
A hundred always a hundred
ways of listening
of marveling of loving
a hundred joys
for singing and understanding
a hundred worlds
to discover
a hundred worlds
to invent
a hundred worlds
to dream.
The child has
a hundred languages
(and a hundred hundred hundred more)
but they steal ninety-nine.
The school and the culture
separate the head from the body.
They tell the child:
to think without hands
to do without head
to listen and not to speak
to understand without joy
to love and to marvel
only at Easter and Christmas.
They tell the child:
to discover the world already there
and of the hundred
they steal ninety-nine.
They tell the child:
that work and play
reality and fantasy
science and imagination
sky and earth
reason and dream
are things
that do not belong together.
And thus they tell the child
that the hundred is not there.
The child says:
No way. The hundred is there
Heraclitus: Fragments of Gold
Ima geek out about my man Heraclitus. It's a long time coming and some of the greats have already done it better than me.
This dude is an OG. Heraclitus was spitting fire before the term existed. Motherfucker recognized the firey passion that drives us. That fuels us. The spark of life that can enact change. The spark that transmutes elements from one form to another. It's in us. We burn like an inferno.
We are born of conflict. In each of us, that fire sparks an internal war. One that, unsurprisingly, reflects the chaotic order of the cosmos. We find ourselves an individual flame in an everchanging firestorm. The one firestorm that allows for many flames to propagate. So too are we: one made of many.
That's life. A paradox. One and many. Convergening opposites. A balance struck in eternal equilibrium. And each one of us has the power to change. To harness the everchanging energy that surrounds us and is within us. We can unearth a power that lays dormant in so many others.
The power, the spark, the everchanging cosmos; they don't define life. What defines life is how we direct that energy. How we change. Our impact. Our conflict. Heraclitus does not weep in the face of blazing adversity. He revels in it. So that he can direct the energy and define his own life. So that he can transmute it into philosophical gold. Even if all that's left of him is just fragments of gold. (Or if you're Democritus, maybe you'd laugh and say fragments of pyrite)
Monarch
As a butterfly,
I never imagined the world
I lived in.
It was always there
Manifest before me.
I could trust what I saw;
What I sensed;
What I felt.
But as I dream,
I become a man.
A king.
And I do not know
If anyone
tells me the truth.
What lies ahead are pitfalls.
The decision before me
Is set:
Do I remain a king
Or flutter away?