Tag Archives: change

Challenging Beliefs

People choose to believe many things: a wide variety of things.
Things that are not compatible with each other.
And then defend them with no evidence.
Most folks are offended when they encounter beliefs which are inconsistent with their own beliefs.
Careful arguments are critical for achieving the things we need to learn.
Not arguments simply between people or about people but arguments about ideas.
We need to examine careful histories.
We need to look closely at textual criticisms.
We need to submit our ideas to scrutiny: careful, careful, scrutiny.
It’s never too late to adjust our thinking.

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My Little Ropes

Today is a rainy day,
but I had to take a walk.

So I have my favorite little umbrella
made by a company called Leighton.
It’s very steady, very well-made.
It’s double around the rim and opens very nicely.
Though slightly small it is just right for little walks.
I like it.

The woods were noisy with rainfall
but it was all rain that was caught in the leaves.
As I walked out of the woods it was quiet again.
My first stop was the little shed next to the pond.
While in the shed it poured down raining.
It was delightful.
I like sitting in that shed when it rains.

The rain eventually stopped and I moved on toward the vale.
I stopped at my first special place to sit on a rock on the near side.
I sat studying the underside of my umbrella.
What a cool design.
And then – I noticed the rope.
I think it once held up a pump down in a well.
Then it got used for other things.
But I found this 18 inch piece laying in the field
and I tied it around this tree that’s here next to where I like to sit.
I don’t know where the ropes were used last.
I’ve tied three ropes here, actually two ropes and one twine.
The twine was bailing twine. All of it is plastic.
The heavier blue and white rope that once held a well-water pump
is about a quarter inch in diameter.
The other twine is only an eighth of an inch or less.
I tied the bailing twine around a tree where I like to enter or leave the vale.
No one may ever notice it.
As a matter of fact, I don’t expect anyone to notice any of it.

Now I’m walking to the other side of the vale.
First I walked down the west bank to the vale bottom.
It’s not a steep climb down or anything.
It’s a small vale. It’s only maybe 100 feet across at the bottom.
Now I’m climbing up the east side.
I just passed the groundhog hole at the bottom of the tree.
Now I’m approaching my other favorite spot to sit.

You may ask, “Where do you sit without getting your ass wet when it’s been raining?”
I bring a plastic trash bag with me.
I unfold and set it down where I want to sit.

And now here I sit on the tree
which leans over at such an acute angle
there’s room for 4 or 5 people to sit on this tree.
It’s only 8 to 10 inches in diameter.
There is a little branch arising next to me
where there’s another blue-and-white rope tied.
I can see the other tree where the first rope is tied
but I can’t see the rope.
And I can’t see the rope at the wood line
where I will emerge when I leave for home.

It’s beautiful and green here.
There are lots of trees of different sizes.
It’s fairly rocky here too.
Some of the rocks are sharp and some are rather smooth.
That tells me something.
The sharp ones have been revealed sharp by more recent breaking pressures.
They’ve been cracked with sharp edges exposed.
The smooth ones have been weathered down by many years of rain.
It becomes obvious that water once flowed down this vale.
But it’s been a long time.

I expect glaciers left a lot of the soil here.
And trees left a lot of soil here.
Trees don’t grow very large here when there’s very little soil.
But they fall and become soil.
Then subsequent trees grow larger.
Then there’s the dust that falls to earth every day
that must add an inch every few hundred years.
The old old trees are gone entirely with no signs of the trunks
where they broke off or fell over.
There are a few trunks left from trees that have fallen over more recently.
And there are some that have been cut.
So there’s always an increase of soil.
Some of the trees seem to be growing right out of the tops of rocks.
Some trees are growing in soil that probably has good depth.
When the trees mature that have this deep soil my ropes may still be here.

My little ropes.

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Raccoon Days

Yesterday was raccoon day.
So is today.
Yesterday a raccoon cross my path as I was about to open the gate to the farm.
Today there was a dead raccoon in the road.
It wasn’t the same raccoon. It wasn’t big enough.
But that’s two raccoons and two days in a row.

I learned today that the butchers son killed himself driving an ATV.
He was a young fella still in his teens.
He had served me numerous times in the butcher shop.
He had a slow but genuine smile.
It was always welcome.

Both he and the raccoon died on the road.
Both under circumstances that were easily avoided.
These fractal bodies of ours are easily lost.
Both of these bodies were young with no children.
Their friends and families know the impact of their lives.

I know little.

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Stresses

I remember considering stresses –

Seeing the troubles of
too little
and too much.

We too often fail to regard
how stresses form us.

Too much stress in our youth
    leads many to avoid any.
To little attracts the wrong kinds later.

It is good to attract formative and positive stresses.
They become a healthy delight.
They make it easy to avoid useless, negative stresses.

Consider your stresses,
both self-generated
and from life situations.
They are your gift,
able to transform and develop you
into a positive and uniquely formed person.

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One Day Soon

One day soon …
I’ll be gone,
Not to wake up
or return.

You may wonder
– Where is he?

I hope you forgo
heaven or hell
or such amusements.

My energy
shall be re-wrapped unpredictably.
Not lost.

I don’t recommend
rebirths or such.

Consider, that there may be
only one consciousness – everywhere,
that all beings exist as expressions of.

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Laughing Woods

The woods are full of laughter.
I’m where the limbs are fallen.
Many are around me
fallen gracefully
as is often our privilege.

Some are flat on the ground.
Some are leaning on the living.
Some are standing tall, dead, bark-less.
The variety is beautiful!

Some still alive have fallen on dead ones
which had fallen on the living
which hold up all of them, yet.

The laughter resounds!
The peaceful decay at all angles,
breathtaking !leaners

Down Dead

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Questions Remain

The question remains, how shall we consider the things we still can’t see? The presence within and behind trees, stones, and mirrors. Only recently we began to see how perception is a contrived integration of understanding and evolutionary necessity.
Centuries unfold tides of ascribing meaning onto waves of being. It is well that things fall apart, fall to ruin, and are broken down by the fungal foundation of consciousness, to be again available for repurposing and informing the evernow. It has always been so: from Stardust thru DNA. Yet there is authentic joy in the honesty of both uncertainties of substance and in the certainties of shadows.

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Contraction Timing

You were born yesterday,
and again this morning,
and again we hope tomorrow.

Why, I asked,
are babies born so naked,
with their water flowing to ground, and
their fire flowing to sky
so perfectly — so automatically?

It creates currents that form
the multi-vortical human mindscape
where every spin the now-ist sees
as yesterday’s pre-reality.

You can’t take the same sacred snapshot twice:
no matter how terminally indignant
the weekly pattern-monger’s habit,
Love remains the fulcrum and
always moves above a still.

It’s a fragile eternity that yields
an allergy to urgency,
no appetite for the Bantu fractal or
the circumdancing flower of homo-spiritus,
or the growing rampant glory of identity
taming the local lizard.

But we can see the buds on gravid branches
all watching in their special ways
to be the stone, the bird, the tree,
the proactive jazz blossoms,
the spin-bombs of living Logos
bringing on more contractions…

First published at vox poetica.

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Faith in Becoming

The songs we sing crawling
are not our walking songs,
which are not our swimming songs,
which are not our flying songs.

Crawling songs will stand up,
the walking songs will dive in,
and swimming songs will take wing
and sing
the songs of being
and the joy of crawling
until walking
until swimming
until flying,

and sing
the love that flies
at eye level
to any crawler, walker, swimmer, flier,
and that dances to all the songs
while imparting the faith in becoming.

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Two Pens, One Book

(for the wedding of my firstborn)

A blank book begins on a pedestal.

Knock it off.

Spill some ink

deliberately.

Life is gloriously messy,

let it know that you are

participating!

Let it know

that you have both shown up

and that your team will make its mark

immediately.

You may not always write big and bold –

but do so now!

Claim this joint territory

with some reckless abandon

while you may,

so that your children will honor you,

and learn that real authority

derives from truth,

and never vice versa.

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