Boat Across the River
Just another WordPress.com weblogSongwriters
When you hear a great song, it’s hard to imagine that if someone hadn’t written it, it wouldn’t be here. How many great songs are hanging out above us in the air waiting to be pulled down to where our ears can hear them?
Be Here Now
Here’s something I hear a lot about: our waking lives are really just as much a dream as what we experience when we’re asleep and that neither one is really “real”. But I also hear it’s important to be here now.
How can I really be here now if now is not real? I think here and now does exist because…here we are.
Maybe both our dreams and our waking lives are “real”. And so is an afterlife. Maybe they’re all happening.
Utopia
When I think, “If only people didn’t do this or that, the world would be perfect,” I remember, “We’ll always have sh*t.” Ultimately, there’s always that very basic piece of disgusting-ness. And people have always had to deal with getting rid of it. Maybe the world is not meant to be perfect.
Even if everything else was perfect, we would still have to deal with sh*t.
Personal Relationship With God
People often talk about the importance of a personal relationship with God. I remember watching a thunderstorm approach as I drove through the Utah desert, thinking that an impersonal God is the only kind of god I can believe in. I don’t think that a “personal” God could allow innocent suffering. If there is a “personal” God, it would appear that he unjustly plays favorites. That is not something I can believe in.
Let the Dead Bury Their Dead
In the Bible, Jesus tells his followers that they should be willing to leave their families to follow him. Some modern-day Christians take this to mean that they don’t have a responsibility to their parents and siblings — that they need not have any loyalty to the ones with whom they were placed on this planet. I think we’re placed with each other for a reason. (However, contrary to what some believers of reincarnation would say, I certainly don’t believe anyone deserves the abuse that so many are forced to endure. There is such a think as innocent and undeserved suffering and I wonder: where does forgiveness fall in the concept of reincarnation?)
My concern is with the interpretation of this scripture. I don’t think it’s right to adopt a supercilious attitude toward the people who raised you and to act like because of your religion you no longer need these people in your life — as if they might somehow lead you astray…I don’t think we should use religion as an excuse to ditch our families, and I have seen this happen. Be yourself with your family — be who you really are. Say what you believe. If they essentially leave you, then that is their choice.
Seizure
My student who has seizures had a bad one last week. She couldn’t breathe, and was turning blue. We had to call 911. Ordinarily, I would rarely put my hands on a student — even a pat on the back can be turned against you by a confused or nefarious individual — but it’s strange how in situations like this I will hold her like she is my own child. It’s not bad enough that she has seizures and that her mother died of one when my student was twelve. Her dad and “stepmom” are constantly moving and fighting, and the stepmom is basically a pervert.
As she was being wheeled out on a stretcher, once her vital signs were stable, she said, “I don’t want to be here anymore.” At first I thought she meant school, but then she said, “I want to be with my mom.”
Epistle to My Co-Worker (Who’s Worried I’m Going to Hell)
I don’t know if this is unique to the “Bible Belt” region, or if it’s more widespread, but people are always trying to make sure that I’m going to be okay after I die. Meaning, they are always trying to determine if I believe what they believe. Are they doing this out of love or out of a desire to carve another notch on their crosses? Granted, I do encourage these conversations because I think they’re fun. I wrote this letter to a co-worker after a conversation we had one day.
…you asked me who I think Jesus was. I believe there was a man named Jesus and I do believe he was a miracle worker. I also believe he worked diligently on his relationship with the Creator, so much so that perhaps he had become one with God. Jesus is the inspiration for my life as I try to follow in his path of love and forgiveness. I believe that, too often, religions use fear as a motivator, but I think we are on a path away from fear and toward love. I think Jesus’ decision not to write anything down himself was deliberate because it’s better to keep some things fuzzy. People have an instinct to turn into enforcers…
I am not willing to believe everything I read in the Bible. It might be the case that I don’t believe it literally happened, or it might be that I don’t believe the story should be used as a model for our behavior. If what I read resonates with my beliefs in love and forgiveness, I can consider incorporating it into my beliefs. Was Jesus God? I don’t know. I do think it’s important for people to be able to say these words, but that they are difficult to admit because of fear of the unknown. I can say I don’t believe that those who don’t believe there is one path will go to Hell. And I don’t believe in eternal suffering/separation from ”God”.
The Hawk
The city lies
beneath a thick gray quilt.
This could be our last
warm day — any one of these
could be our last.
Ten feet before us,
just over the road,
a hawk flies. slow. pumping. beating. chased
by several frantic sparrows.
Walking ’round the corner, I can see her,
top of an old oak tree.
I rock the stroller as I watch,
my baby unaware life ends.
She holds her bird against the leafless limb
plucking feathers tuft by tuft.
They shiver as they fall
and finally she reaches skin.
She pulls it from the bones,
gulping flesh like a fish
gulping out of water. We walk on.
On the return back home,
the old woman on the corner
comes out her door –
spectacles, white curls, dark skin
shining like a leaf in dusky sun.
“Excuse me!” She shouts urgently,
and from the street I move
toward her voice. “Did you see it?
What was that bird –
that great beautiful bird?”
And she stretches her arms,
two shaky old arms,
slowly, slowly, to a hawk’s wingspan
and I think, “Your body
is as beautiful as hers.”
Little birds sing sincerely
and their dances dot the sky:
black notes on the scale.
We all forget
death quickly.
E-Scratches on the Cave Wall
There are at least two reasons why I like to write this blog without attaching my name to it.
1. I don’t want to be accused of trying to take credit for an idea or image or metaphor previously used. I never would intentionally use something already written, but I do think there is some kind of “collective unconscious” and that this kind of accidental borrowing is unavoidable. For a much better explanation of this, see Waking Life. Somewhere in the middle of that movie, experiments are described involving people doing crossword puzzles. When the answers have already been figured out before giving the test subjects the puzzles, the people are able to solve the puzzle much more quickly than if the puzzle is brand new.
2) I like the idea that the Internet is a modern-day “cave” where we are all dipping our hands in paint and pressing them onto the walls. In the American Southwest, artistic renderings on the walls of ancient cliff dwellings are all unsigned. The petroglyphs and pictographs didn’t elevate individuals — each person was just a part of the whole community. I really love the idea of carrying this into contemporary times.
