2006-05-31

the prophet - kahlil gibran

On Giving

Then said a rich man, "Speak to us of Giving."
And he answered:
You give but little when you give of your possessions.
It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.
For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow?
And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the overprudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city?
And what is fear of need but need itself?
Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, thirst that is unquenchable?
There are those who give little of the much which they have - and they give it for recognition and their hidden desire makes their gifts unwholesome.
And there are those who have little and give it all.
These are the believers in life and the bounty of life, and their coffer is never empty.
There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward.
And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is their baptism.
And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue;
They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space.
Through the hands of such as these God speaks, and from behind their eyes He smiles upon the earth.
It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked, through understanding;
And to the open-handed the search for one who shall receive is joy greater than giving.
And is there aught you would withhold?
All you have shall some day be given;
Therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors'.
You often say, "I would give, but only to the deserving."
The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture.
They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish.
Surely he who is worthy to receive his days and his nights is worthy of all else from you.
And he who has deserved to drink from the ocean of life deserves to fill his cup from your little stream.
And what desert greater shall there be than that which lies in the courage and the confidence, nay the charity, of receiving?
And who are you that men should rend their bosom and unveil their pride, that you may see their worth naked and their pride unabashed?
See first that you yourself deserve to be a giver, and an instrument of giving.
For in truth it is life that gives unto life - while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness.
And you receivers - and you are all receivers - assume no weight of gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives.
Rather rise together with the giver on his gifts as on wings;
For to be overmindful of your debt, is to doubt his generosity who has the free-hearted earth for mother, and God for father.

2006-05-30

wash...

i am a vehicle
a portal

for a wave

i can picture it gushing
from my soul

flowing out

to wash all mankind

it is not from me
i am the middle man

the vehicle
the portal

opening on the divine...

2006-05-24

contentment - li po

When you ask why I dwell here docile among the far green hills, I laugh in my heart. My heart is happy.

The peach-blossom watches the river running but remains content. There is a better heaven and earth than the busy world of men.

2006-05-23

the little prince - antoine de saint-exupéry

"one runs the risk of weeping a little, if one lets himself be tamed..."

acts 1 - some thoughts

I was just reading Acts 1 this morning, where the apostles are choosing a new person to fill the spot of Judas Iscariot, after he died. One thing really struck me. They are choosing between two guys who they have picked out, and they pray: "You, Lord, who know the hearts of all men, show which one of these two You have chosen to occupy this ministry and apostleship from which Judas turned aside to go to his own place." and then they proceed to draw lots to determine which one is chosen. So, here's what struck me. In modern Christian circles, I don't think that we (generally) would trust that God would take something like drawing lots, and cause the outcome to fall the way He wanted. We would pray a lot about it, think about it a lot, and in the end, come to our own conclusion which should be chosen. Now, it's not that using your head is necessarily a bad thing, I mean the apostles did narrow it down to the two people they thought most fitting for the position. In the end, however, they put the final decision in a place where they could not control it and left the outcome to God. I don't think it would be bad for us to do that kind of thing more often. We have an insatiable desire for control.

2006-05-22

the little prince - antoine de saint-exupéry

It was then that the fox appeared.
"Good morning," said the fox.
"Good morning," the little prince responded politely, although when he turned around he saw nothing.
"I am right here," the voice said, "under the apple tree."
"Who are you?" asked the little prince, and added, "You are very pretty to look at."
"I am a fox," the fox said.
"Come and play with me," proposed the little prince. "I am so unhappy."
"I cannot play with you," the fox said. "I am not tamed."
"Ah! Please excuse me," said the little prince.
But, after some thought, he added:
"What does that mean - 'tame'?"
"You do not live here," said the fox. "What is it that you are looking for?"
"I am looking for men," said the little prince.
"What does that mean - 'tame'?"
"Men," said the fox. "They have guns, and they hunt. It is very disturbing. They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?"
"No," said the little prince. "I am looking for friends. What does that mean � 'tame'?"
"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. "It means to establish ties."

"'To establish ties'?"
"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world..."
"I am beginning to understand," said the little prince. "There is a flower... I think that she has tamed me..."
"It is possible," said the fox. "On the Earth one sees all sorts of things."
"Oh, but this is not on the Earth!" said the little prince.
"On another planet?"
"Yes."
"Are there hunters on that planet?"
"No."
"Ah, that is interesting! Are there chickens?"
"No."
"Nothing is perfect," sighed the fox.
But he came back to his idea.
"My life is very monotonous," he said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat..."
The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time.
"Please - tame me!" he said.
"I want to, very much," the little prince replied. "But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand."
"One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox. "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is not shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me..."
"What must I do, to tame you?" asked the little prince.
"You must be very patient," replied the fox. "First you will sit down at a little distance from me - like that - in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day..."

The next day the little prince came back.
"It would have been better to come back at the same hour," said the fox. "If, for example, you come at four o'clock in the afternoon, then at three o'clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o'clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! Butt if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you... one must observe the proper rites..."
"What is a rite?" asked the little prince.
"Those also are actions too often neglected," said the fox. "They are what make one day different from the other days, one hour from other hours. There is a rite, for example, among my hunters. Every Thursday they dance with the village girls. So Thursday is a wonderful day for me! I can take a walk as far as the vineyards. But if the hunters danced at just any time, every day would be like every other day, and I should never have any vacation at all."

So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near -
"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."
"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm, but you wanted me to tame you..."
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"Then it has done you no good at all!"
"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields." And then he added:
"Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret."

The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.
"You are not at all like my rose," he said. "As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world."
And the roses were very much embarrassed.
"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you - the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under a glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose."

And he went back to meet the fox.
"Goodbye," he said.
"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
"It is the time you have wasted on your rose that makes your rose so important."
"It is the time I have wasted for my rose -" said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.
"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose..."
"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

2006-05-18

quiet

i need a good deep breath
of quiet air
my insides need peace
depth
of cool water
growth
expanse of silence
infinity

Eurovision

Everyone go to http://www.eurovision.tv at noon and watch the streaming video. You won't regret it, I promise :)))

2006-05-16

writing...

I feel again like I'm going to need to write something in the near future... kind of that creeping suspicion and little thoughts here and there that keep creeping up, that I know once my brain has had a little time to process them and form some sort of coherent picture of them, they will come out in some form or another... keep your eyes peeled for more stuff here (keep your eyes peeled, I always thought that was a rather gruesome picture...)

cheers.

2006-05-15

on a pair of chopsticks

Welcome to Chinese Restaurant.
Please try your Nice Chinese Food With Chopsticks
the traditional and typical of Chinese glorious history.
and cultural

2006-05-13

clark gable - the postal service

And I want life in every word to the extent that it's absurd

sleeping in - the postal service

Again last night I had that strange dream
Where everything was exactly how it seemed
Where concerns about the world getting warmer
The people thought they were just being rewarded
For treating others as they'd like to be treated
For obeying stop signs and curing diseases
For mailing letters with the address of the sender
Now we can swim any day in November

2006-05-12

i am moved

a vague awareness of warmth
flickers
at that place in me

so deep that it is infinite

as if all of everything
were contained in this soul

the flicker
becomes
a flame
lapping at
my heart
quickens

all my insides
perfect kindling
are now roaring with flames

my shoulders heave
a bit
as a warm drop of happiness
traces the wrinkles
of my cheek

and all the world is changed

2006-05-10

friends...

sometimes it blows my mind that such wonderful people would find me equally as wonderful... i am so blessed.

red

what a feeling
to reach gently into a person's chest
with reverence, humility
to caress a warm, beating heart
feel its strength, delicate

soft

to look the person in the eyes
see that they can feel
the embrace

surprisingly, flesh is permeable
a thin vein
creeps its way back to your heart
snake-like, red against pale flesh

alive

entwining your arm
it reaches your chest
with a rush of everything
you imagined could be felt
and some things a surprise
but nothing so strong as

love

2006-05-08

sleep

tired dripping sparkles
dark ink
tired

a cigarette
maybe a caraffe of wine
would help

dull
soften
ease

don't speak
don't listen
just sleep

I don't want
anything more
just sleep

a birthday present - sylvia plath

What is this, behind this veil, is it ugly, is it beautiful?
It is shimmering, has it breasts, has it edges?

I am sure it is unique, I am sure it is just what I want.
When I am quiet at my cooking I feel it looking,
I feel it thinking

'Is this the one I am to appear for,
Is this the elect one, the one with black eye-pits
and a scar?

Measuring the flour, cutting off the surplus,
Adhering to rules, to rules, to rules.

Is this the one for the annunciation?
My god, what a laugh!'

But it shimmers, it does not stop, and I think it wants me.
I would not mind if it was bones, or a pearl button.

I do not want much of a present, anyway, this year.
After all I am alive only by accident.

I would have killed myself gladly that time any
possible way.
Now there are these veils, shimmering like curtains,

The diaphanous satins of a January window
White as babies' bedding and glittering with dead
breath. O ivory!

It must be a tusk there, a ghost-column.
Can you not see I do not mind what it is.

Can you not give it to me?
Do not be ashamed - I do not mind if it is small.

Do not be mean, I am ready for enormity.
Let us sit down to it, one on either side, admiring
the gleam,

The glaze, the mirrory variety of it.
Let us eat our last supper at it, like a hospital plate.

I know why you will not give it to me,
You are terrified

The world will go up in a shriek, and your head with it,
Bossed, brazen, and antique shield,

A marvel to your great-grandchildren.
Do not be afraid, it is not so.

I will only take it and go aside quietly.
You will not even hear me opening it, no paper crackle,

No falling ribbons, no scream at the end.
I do not think you credit me with this discretion.

If you only knew how the veils were killing my days.
To you they are only transparencies, clear air.

But my god, the clouds are like cotton.
Armies of them. They are carbon monoxide.

Sweetly, sweetly I breathe in,
Filling my veins with invisibles, with the million

Probable motes that tick the years off my life.
You are silver-suited for the occasion. O adding
machine--

Is it impossible for you to let something go and have
it go whole?
Must you stamp each piece in purple,

Must you kill what you can?
There is this one thing I want today, and only you can
give it to me.

It stands at my window, big as the sky.
It breathes from my sheets, the cold dead center

Where spilt lives congeal and stiffen to history.
Let it not come by the mail, finger by finger.

Let it not come by word of mouth, I should be sixty
By the time the whole of it was delivered, and too
numb to use it.

Only let down the veil, the veil, the veil.
If it were death

I would admire the deep gravity of it, its timeless eyes.
I would know you were serious.

There would be a nobility then, there would be a
birthday.
And the knife not carve, but enter

Pure and clean as the cry of a baby,
And the universe slide from my side.

2006-05-06

nature

"nature is too thin a screen; the glory of the omnipresent God bursts through everywhere" -Ralph Waldo Emerson

2006-05-05

such great heights - the postal service

I am thinking it's a sign that the freckles
In our eyes are mirror images and when
We kiss they're perfectly aligned
And I have to speculate that God himself
Did make us into corresponding shapes like
Puzzle pieces from the clay

And true, it may seem like a stretch, but
It's thoughts like this that catch my troubled
Head when you're away, when I am missing you to death
When you are out there on the road for
Several weeks of shows and when you scan
The radio, I hope this song will guide you home

They will see us waving from such great
Heights, 'come down now,' they'll say
But everything looks perfect from far away,
'come down now,' but we'll stay...

I tried my best to leave this all on your
Machine but the persistent beat it sounded
Thin upon listening
And that frankly will not fly. You will hear
The shrillest highs and lowest lows with
The windows down when this is guiding you home

They will see us waving from such great
Heights, 'come down now,' they'll say
But everything looks perfect from far away,
'come down now,' but we'll stay...

love...

"when you love, I can feel your love shooting holes in my stupid pride..."

beauty...

beauty has torn my heart to shreds
then tied it up again in bows
bouquets of lilac, lavender, jasmine
delicate, edges frayed
but oh so beautiful
and inhaling the scent
I wonder how it could ever have been
any other way...

sigur ros

my reaction to the sigur ros/amina concert...

I feel like someone gently reached into my chest, pulled out my heart for me to see, and as I stood watching, it turned into a million butterflies and flew away...

2006-05-02

miracle

had I wont of a miracle
a wrinkle I could find
tracing the breadth of my finger
a crease

the breadth of my finger
containing all the world within
tickling the back of my heart
to explosion of wonder

singly containing the beauty
of stars, trees, rivers, eyes
a galaxy of hope
inside

a cell unseen, unobserved
taking its place
in a crease
the breadth of my finger

2006-05-01

the wisdom of the sands - antoine de saint-exupéry

For there is no absence either from the home or from your love, when your every step forms part of the ceremonial dance of love or of the home. Far from parting you, your absence binds you together; far from isolating you from her, it unites you. And can you tell me where you would set the landmark beyond which absence means a sundering? If the ceremonial be firmly knit together, and if you keep your eyes intently on the god within whom you twain are one, and if that god burns with an ardent flame - who can separate you from your friend or your own house?

loving a person - sara groves

Loving a person just the way they are, it's no small thing
It takes some time to see things through
Sometimes things change, sometimes we're waiting
We need grace either way

Hold on to me
I'll hold on to you
Let's find out the beauty of seeing things through

There's a lot of pain in reaching out and trying
It's a vulnerable place to be
Love and pride can't occupy the same spaces baby
Only one makes you free

Hold on to me
I'll hold on to you
Let's find out the beauty of seeing things through

If we go looking for offense
We're going to find it
If we go looking for real love
We're going to find it

Hold on to me
I'll hold on to you
Let's find out the beauty of seeing things through

Loving a person just the way they are, that's no small thing
That's the WHOLE THING
Loving me just the way I am, it's no small thing
It takes some time...