Sentences

Sentences Being somewhat intellectually shallow, I have found that the best I can do is study sentences in my effort to understand the world around me. To those who (can) study paragraphs, books, libraries--I congratulate and admire you... "The Big Bang happens, is happening, and will happen." Itzhak Bentov, Stalking the Wild Pendulum. When I first read this line, I sat back, (probably lit a cigarette), and tried to wrap my mind around it. It hurt my head. I could allow for two of the three at any one time, but the three simultaneously was incomprehensible. So I relaxed, tried not to attack it in a linear fashion. After musing for a few moments, I suddenly imagined falling into a pool of clear water. It dawned on me that Bentov wasn’t talking about an action, but rather an environment. Time isn’t something we do, we are something time does! (and a very small part of what time does/is, at that). Once I relaxed in my attempt to understand, it became clear that doing time was not the goal—being in time was the purpose; to feel time within us. That led me to consider the Golden Rule we all learned as children: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Doing became a kind of loop-hole. You can do all sorts of good things, but still be a lousy person. So I came up with a new Platinum Rule: "Be unto others as you would have them Be unto you." So, Time was an environment for us to Be. But what did Being mean? In nature, nothing remains the same. Creatures are born and die. Water and wind erode rock. Gas emerges, dissipates, and emerges again. Everything is in flux, is being destroyed and reborn. That brought me to my next sentence: "You have to constantly face that which would annihilate you in order to find that within you that is indestructible." Buddhist Monograph on The Gift of Disappointment. For years I mistakenly thought the phrase read: “You have to constantly annihilate yourself in order to find... etc.” A friend asked for a copy of the monograph, and I reread it while making the copy. That’s when I discovered my subtle but important mistake. We don’t have to assist the annihilating forces of nature, we just have to face that which comes our way. Anything that remains is stronger than before, and more clear to us. Anything that evaporates or leaves was ultimately unnecessary. And the self that remains is much more our own. Later, while reading Chaos, Making A New Science, by James Gleick, the idea that Chaos Refreshes the Structure came to me. This was not unrelated to the Buddhist monograph above, but operated in a larger context. This can be seen all through the history of man, (and more). When you look at this idea after the horrifying events of September 11th, it seems harsh and cruel. But as the stories of individual and collective heroism surfaced, and the new attitudes of people (really from all across the globe), the new structures of thought—concern for others, and the determination to eliminate such evil from our lives—the principle is actually describing an elevation of the human spirit. But there are still dangers from within. Wartime attitudes can be hard to shake once the war is over. This year a local politician was addressing a Memorial Day crowd. He spoke of the sacrifice of soldiers in protecting our freedom of speech. In my travels through life, I have lived in countries under “soldiers’ rule,” and have seen how too many soldiers inhibit freedom of speech. (In Greece under the Junta in the early 70’s, in order to vote, Greek citizens had to ask for a Yes or No ballot from an armed military person. It was no wonder the Junta was voted in again.) I then came across the following sentence: "Preaching is Moral Violence." Alan Watts, Cloud Hidden:Whereabouts Uknown. At first I thought, “Aha, this is perfect for all those religious types who come to the door proselytizing.” But, with reflection, I saw that the sentence had much wider ramifications. Just as we all want to “be ourselves,” that desire is universal. If we want to have our thoughts and precepts honored, we have to honor the thoughts and precepts of others. Preaching moved from the pulpit (or front door) to literally every conversation or situation. All those words being uttered by the billions of people in this world, was there another way to look at them? Yes, and from an unforeseen source. "Energy has no words." Iris Kraker. Iris is a friend from Austria. She is not a writer, (at the time we met, she was a nanny in Connecticut). She is not a famous philosopher or really known beyond her circle of friends. She was reading Das Energi, by Paul Williams, and looked up from the sofa with an awed expression on her face, and just said: “Energy has no words.” Just that simple. The phrase has been bouncing around in my head ever since. It all started to come together: Time, Words, Energy. We are bundles of energy swimming in a pool of time, constantly buffeted by other energies that shape and form us. While that seemed sufficiently broad to cover at least a small bit of what living is about, it is at the same moment, too broad to help see and understand the gears of everyday life. When in doubt, go like a moth to a patch of light. "As adults we pass along the blows we received as children until we make a conscious decision to no longer do so." Saul Bellow, Henderson the Rain King. (checking to make sure the years haven't made this a terrible paraphrase.) Growing up is hard to do. We start out as helpless beings, sometimes protected by family (or the inefficient state), but still destined to face pain and harsh truth (Santa? Easter Bunny?). We carry the fossils of pain imprinted on our being as we crawl out of the ocean of childhood onto the dry beach of adulthood. Our blind subconscious reads these fossils in reacting to painful situations we encounter as adults. A beaten child will often become an abusing adult. The child of drinkers will drink. The sexually abused will use sex to abuse as an adult. These gears define and turn machine of self. (I like to think of a set of Yes/No buttons, preset by nature, and often adjusted to our detriment, and without our knowledge.) The questions of real self are often buried beneath upbringing and experience. Send a poet to war, very rarely does a poet return. Remember the one-armed pitcher who played baseball during the war years? Bellow won my own personal Nobel Prize for writing this sentence that has given me so much to think about all these years since. Finally, I looked for a sentence that described human endeavor, and there it was, in the same book: Henderson the Rain King: "I want. I want. I want. I want. I want." You don’t need to go Under the Elms to find desire. Look in your heart. Search your eyes in the morning when you awake. Feel your beating heart at any time during the day. It’s not a bad sentence. Longing has its place. But remember, it is just a few words trying to describe an ocean of experience—each person their own sea. email me! And yes, I used to be a writer. The following links will take you to my past. (If only it were truly that easy.) Fiction: Chair Man An Ocean of Fate The Gentle Husband Good Business Jack Danger’s Tupi The Residue of Design Wind, Sand and Cars Host of Emotions Tattoos HE Tales Opal Moon First Sermon Crack of the Bat Life Insurance Chair Man Tom Payne SHE Tales Measure of Downcast in Her Eyes Sometimes a Great Lotion Ordinary Life Late Harvest Daughter of the Yard Leaving Ohio Poetry: Altar Catherine Clare Dark Eight Cross Country The Dew Down Under: All Over America Eating Rainbows Evolution Existential Café Feral Finally You Grateful Bread Halls of Heaven In The Sea Breeze Meeting the Dragon More Natural Oksana On Becoming Stars Patty She Follows the Dead Seahorse Nightmare Catcher Sanctuary Lake Thorns Poems from The Valley of My Western Heart Rilke, The Language of Trees, Blue Child, Their Portion of Sunlight, The Old Dancer, Regina, Tightrope, Meadow Viking, Buzzards, Heart Attack, Quiet Café, Kudzu Lizard, At the Pole, Tiger Woman, Last Supper Vero Beach Wednesday’s House also: Hands Up, Amnesia, Eureka Joe’s, Still Life Here is a journal of my adventures in Romania. Please feel free to leave comments, anecdotes, and your own ideas. Romania Journal Support the Artists Where authors and readers come together! Love Poetry ?