If the misery of the poor be caused not by the laws of nature, but by our institutions, great is our sin.
-Charles Darwin
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Losing My Religion
(prose? Or poetry?).
PRO-etry:
The house lights go down.
And Inside my brain... The universe is remade. The only universe I'll ever know...
It's a fact.
And with a leap... I could send it all flying through space and time...
Can you Imagine?.......
But sadly.. I don't care about that now. Instead...
I'm Listening to REM at a traffic light...
searching the faces around me...
still cars...
surreal....
silent of flickering light and sound.
paused like a film frame...
still stuck on the reel
that should be spinning around
the only world that I know.
But its silent.
the story's gone.
The song that's playing is Losing my Religion...
Which is not about religion at all.
It's an old Southern phrase.
A figure of speech.
About obsession.
If I'm losing my religion?
I'm selling everything
to get one thing.
And today.... (again)... I'm losing my religion
But... it wasn't always this way.
I was once devotedly whole
And wholly devoted to being.
I used to be ONE...
SOLID...
WHOLE... number of things that still remain with me today
though it's like bomb residue.
a virtual verity
in a singularity
with an explosion
that changed everything.
....and now I'm reduced...
like a math fraction..
like an animal urge...
Like the lowest denominator of a porn flick...
I've been reduced to this...
I've been reduced to a
...fleshly opaque smell
that lingers in the air like a a flower fragrance.
A garden-wall of memory.
A place..... once safe.
But now I sniff it like a dog...
with irony
I smell it like cherry blossoms
near a green car stopped at
the traffic light beside me...
a face
Partly veiled by strands of light
brown-cherry hair.
She is Sweet.
To me?
She's remade in film...
innocent in sepia tones.
naked like Hot cinnamon
with sweat.
and she's Salty.
Isolated...
And suddenly.. she's completely unsafe.
She doesn't notice me... that I'm watching her.
Her universe doesn't include me.
I'm absent there.
a ghost...
on the outside watching....
haunting.
Nor does she know my danger
my black-hole emptiness
How in this.... losing of religion
I can warp it... unreal..
Erase it.
Reduce it all like a fraction...
She....
To me
Has become my Eve
of alienation.
And I
Today...?
her serpent of random chance.
It Reminds me of a dream
I keep having
of my Father telling a story...
something large...
up on the big screen.
Something crucial about me...
and life...
something to turn the gears
flicker the lights and spin the wheels
and reels
with the substance of things that a Father might say.
But like Nietzsche.. my Father's dead.
(or at least... he's dead to me now).
He died a few years ago.
And so.. (in the dream) I never hear the words he would say
Like the wholly devoted Ghost..
he's committed to watching...
he slips back into the shadows...
on the outside.
And I'm fully unaware that he's there.
And in between us is air
and the things we confuse for certainty...
Clarity.
The Black box things that slip
through our fingers like smoke.
And then the credits role
And the house lights come up
And then there's the silence of things
that come at the end
while I adjust again.
to a dangerous
and unimagined world.
and finally...
I muster the courage
to stand from the theater
walk across that damn
sticky floor
and once more...
step back outside
into the so called..
"real world".
PRO-etry:
The house lights go down.
And Inside my brain... The universe is remade. The only universe I'll ever know...
It's a fact.
And with a leap... I could send it all flying through space and time...
Can you Imagine?.......
But sadly.. I don't care about that now. Instead...
I'm Listening to REM at a traffic light...
searching the faces around me...
still cars...
surreal....
silent of flickering light and sound.
paused like a film frame...
still stuck on the reel
that should be spinning around
the only world that I know.
But its silent.
the story's gone.
The song that's playing is Losing my Religion...
Which is not about religion at all.
It's an old Southern phrase.
A figure of speech.
About obsession.
If I'm losing my religion?
I'm selling everything
to get one thing.
And today.... (again)... I'm losing my religion
But... it wasn't always this way.
I was once devotedly whole
And wholly devoted to being.
I used to be ONE...
SOLID...
WHOLE... number of things that still remain with me today
though it's like bomb residue.
a virtual verity
in a singularity
with an explosion
that changed everything.
....and now I'm reduced...
like a math fraction..
like an animal urge...
Like the lowest denominator of a porn flick...
I've been reduced to this...
I've been reduced to a
...fleshly opaque smell
that lingers in the air like a a flower fragrance.
A garden-wall of memory.
A place..... once safe.
But now I sniff it like a dog...
with irony
I smell it like cherry blossoms
near a green car stopped at
the traffic light beside me...
a face
Partly veiled by strands of light
brown-cherry hair.
She is Sweet.
To me?
She's remade in film...
innocent in sepia tones.
naked like Hot cinnamon
with sweat.
and she's Salty.
Isolated...
And suddenly.. she's completely unsafe.
She doesn't notice me... that I'm watching her.
Her universe doesn't include me.
I'm absent there.
a ghost...
on the outside watching....
haunting.
Nor does she know my danger
my black-hole emptiness
How in this.... losing of religion
I can warp it... unreal..
Erase it.
Reduce it all like a fraction...
She....
To me
Has become my Eve
of alienation.
And I
Today...?
her serpent of random chance.
It Reminds me of a dream
I keep having
of my Father telling a story...
something large...
up on the big screen.
Something crucial about me...
and life...
something to turn the gears
flicker the lights and spin the wheels
and reels
with the substance of things that a Father might say.
But like Nietzsche.. my Father's dead.
(or at least... he's dead to me now).
He died a few years ago.
And so.. (in the dream) I never hear the words he would say
Like the wholly devoted Ghost..
he's committed to watching...
he slips back into the shadows...
on the outside.
And I'm fully unaware that he's there.
And in between us is air
and the things we confuse for certainty...
Clarity.
The Black box things that slip
through our fingers like smoke.
And then the credits role
And the house lights come up
And then there's the silence of things
that come at the end
while I adjust again.
to a dangerous
and unimagined world.
and finally...
I muster the courage
to stand from the theater
walk across that damn
sticky floor
and once more...
step back outside
into the so called..
"real world".
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Humanity
Quotes From "the Other Side"
My humanity is bound up in yours, for we can only be human together.
-Desmond Tutu
My humanity is bound up in yours, for we can only be human together.
-Desmond Tutu
Saturday, May 14, 2011
The Real Jesus Forgives Your Jesus for being an idiot.
Axe to Grind:
I have a friend who hooked me up with a link to a site that sells bumper stickers.
One of the bumper stickers reads...
"The real Jesus forgives your Jesus for being a conservative warmonger".
The site is politically biased. However my friend is not. He's one of those (non-churched is the name he's given) believers that finds himself in a lot of different places politically. Neither left... or right... And so consequently has a hard time in the existing religious world.
The website (and bumper sticker) came up because he was talking to me about a post that went around Facebook a few weeks ago... It was one of those posts demanding that if you agreed... you had to repost it... so people would know you were a great Christian... or patriot... Or whether you believed certain things about Aids... or politics.. or ice cream... or cheese.
This one was political. It read something like this:
Let's be clear on this: Obama did not kill Bin Laden.... An American Sailor.... did. Obama just happened to be the one in office when our soldiers finally found Bin Laden and took him out. This is not an Obama victory, but an American victory. Repost if you agree.
My friend talked to me about how most of the reposts he was getting were from his Christian friends. But he was frustrated because as he noted "the logic of the post" was all wrong.
"It's not an either/or... thing"... he said. It's not Obama... or "the sailor".... but everyone had a job to do... Sailors don't do things without commands... and leaders sometimes have to make tough decisions. And so... his conclusion was.... everyone had a role to play... right?...
Which made total sense to me.
But what he told me was that as he posted that as a comment... all the "Jesus Sharks" came out... Snapping at him about George Bush... and who deserved more credit... And all the other things wrong with Obama (in their view) and by the time he was done... he told me... I never said anything political at all.... I just said the truth. Then he added... "Christians don't really care much about the truth... do they?"...
And I've been thinking about the question ever since.
Do Christians really care anything about the truth?
I have a friend who hooked me up with a link to a site that sells bumper stickers.
One of the bumper stickers reads...
"The real Jesus forgives your Jesus for being a conservative warmonger".
The site is politically biased. However my friend is not. He's one of those (non-churched is the name he's given) believers that finds himself in a lot of different places politically. Neither left... or right... And so consequently has a hard time in the existing religious world.
The website (and bumper sticker) came up because he was talking to me about a post that went around Facebook a few weeks ago... It was one of those posts demanding that if you agreed... you had to repost it... so people would know you were a great Christian... or patriot... Or whether you believed certain things about Aids... or politics.. or ice cream... or cheese.
This one was political. It read something like this:
Let's be clear on this: Obama did not kill Bin Laden.... An American Sailor.... did. Obama just happened to be the one in office when our soldiers finally found Bin Laden and took him out. This is not an Obama victory, but an American victory. Repost if you agree.
My friend talked to me about how most of the reposts he was getting were from his Christian friends. But he was frustrated because as he noted "the logic of the post" was all wrong.
"It's not an either/or... thing"... he said. It's not Obama... or "the sailor".... but everyone had a job to do... Sailors don't do things without commands... and leaders sometimes have to make tough decisions. And so... his conclusion was.... everyone had a role to play... right?...
Which made total sense to me.
But what he told me was that as he posted that as a comment... all the "Jesus Sharks" came out... Snapping at him about George Bush... and who deserved more credit... And all the other things wrong with Obama (in their view) and by the time he was done... he told me... I never said anything political at all.... I just said the truth. Then he added... "Christians don't really care much about the truth... do they?"...
And I've been thinking about the question ever since.
Do Christians really care anything about the truth?
Friday, April 22, 2011
Fight the Power
Sometimes he suggested that one day we would take over the planet. He once said that the gates of Hell couldn't stand because of our unstoppable force.
Not religion. Love.
I was watching a historical documentary the other day about the last week of the life of Jesus (on the green channel) and one of the historians was talking about the political times of Jeaus under Roman rule and he pointed out that anything that looked remotely like insurrection to the Roman government during that time was brutally put down.
The last week of the life of Jesus involved Passover which was a Jewish festival that brought thousands of people into the city of Jerusalem every year. It was crowded (think of the ball drop at Time Square in New York on New Years Eve.. about 2 to 3 hours before midnight).
The streets were filling up with fresh pilgrims doing business. getting ready.... Some making their way to the temple. All of them.. there to celebrate the feast. A Hebrew feast.... packed with symbolic meaning... centrally built around the concept of deliverance... and escape from oppression.
To a ruling foreign government anything out of the ordinary would be threatening. Any scuffle. Anything that drew the sudden attention of the masses. Anything that had a mob of people chanting. Everything to the governing authorities balanced precariously on the edge of a very thin razor blade during Passover time.
And into all of this rides a suddenly popular young teacher... A healer... a prophet. The young man Yeshua (Jesus) returning to the scene of an ancient crime where humanity were once taken hostage. That's the story.
Don't think about Peace... he once said. Think about War. Because what I've brought to the earth is a sword.
And so riding down the street through the chants and waving palm branches like patriotic flags.... he comes humble... But still... a revolutionary.
The Historian says that what he was doing was radical... outrageous... equivalent to black men holding up black fists during the national anthem of the 68 olympics.
A gesture.
But more than that? A sword. A defiance.
Unconditional Love... in your face. Backing you into a corner. Demanding that you make a choice.
What will you do?? He asks.
Continue in the Greed.... The hatred. the prejudiced power that rules the world?
Or love?
What will you do?
Not religion. Love.
I was watching a historical documentary the other day about the last week of the life of Jesus (on the green channel) and one of the historians was talking about the political times of Jeaus under Roman rule and he pointed out that anything that looked remotely like insurrection to the Roman government during that time was brutally put down.
The last week of the life of Jesus involved Passover which was a Jewish festival that brought thousands of people into the city of Jerusalem every year. It was crowded (think of the ball drop at Time Square in New York on New Years Eve.. about 2 to 3 hours before midnight).
The streets were filling up with fresh pilgrims doing business. getting ready.... Some making their way to the temple. All of them.. there to celebrate the feast. A Hebrew feast.... packed with symbolic meaning... centrally built around the concept of deliverance... and escape from oppression.
To a ruling foreign government anything out of the ordinary would be threatening. Any scuffle. Anything that drew the sudden attention of the masses. Anything that had a mob of people chanting. Everything to the governing authorities balanced precariously on the edge of a very thin razor blade during Passover time.
And into all of this rides a suddenly popular young teacher... A healer... a prophet. The young man Yeshua (Jesus) returning to the scene of an ancient crime where humanity were once taken hostage. That's the story.
Don't think about Peace... he once said. Think about War. Because what I've brought to the earth is a sword.
And so riding down the street through the chants and waving palm branches like patriotic flags.... he comes humble... But still... a revolutionary.
The Historian says that what he was doing was radical... outrageous... equivalent to black men holding up black fists during the national anthem of the 68 olympics.
A gesture.
But more than that? A sword. A defiance.
Unconditional Love... in your face. Backing you into a corner. Demanding that you make a choice.
What will you do?? He asks.
Continue in the Greed.... The hatred. the prejudiced power that rules the world?
Or love?
What will you do?
Monday, April 18, 2011
Pride and Prejudice and the problem of Porn
How incredibly Lazy we all are.
Or is it something worse than that?
I've been reading a book by Vladimir Nabokov called "Lolita". High school friends will remember the reference by Sting... in that 80's song... "Don't stand so close to me".
-It's no use... he sees her... he starts to shake and cough...
just like the... old man in.... that book by Nabakov".
Traditionally its a very controversial book.... considered at times in history to be pornography... (primarily I think because of the tendency for moralist masses to knee jerk... and miss the point).
It was banned in England for a time because of it's subject matter.... the story of a French Literary Scholar (Humbert, Humbert) who only finds very young women... girls... attractive.. (in Humberts case.... Lolita... 12.)...
* Before judging Humbert too strongly as a random historical freak... BTW... please see the history of European monarchs... and the tradition to pledge marriage of daughters as young as 4 and 5... (actually not wedding... until around age 12 to 13)... Near eastern cultures as well.. It's believed that perhaps Mary... the mother of Jesus could have been as young as 12 or 13 when she was betrothed to Joseph.
The Nabakov book is controversial because it's a look into the polluted mind of a pervert.... a willful pedophile.. He... (Humbert.. the character.... not Nabakov... the writer)... is a dangerous ass for sure.
He's dangerous because he roams free. He has the ability to do what he wants... when he wants... Manipulate... etc. But most dangerous when he's thinking.
He is dangerous primarily because he has the freedom to think what he wants... about a thing... or a person... with no concern for rightness... accuracy... truthfulness... or reality.
He's not concerned about knowing a thing as it is... for what it is... rather he's content to settle in on his own preconceived notions about it.
What I had madly possessed was not she.... but my own creation... another.... fanciful Lolita- perhaps.... More real than Lolita... Overlapping... Encasing her.... Floating between me and her... and having no will.... no consciousness.... indeed no life of her own.
-Humbert.
This is the pornography. The idolatry. The "unholiness of it".
It's the pornographic mind of the character... (not the book) because Humbert is content to settle on conveniences in his own mind about the girl... He settles on the things he wants to believe about her.... Not the things about her that are actually true.
Let me ask....
Is this the reason that... say.. things like lawn jockeys are offensive to black people?
Stereotypes?
Are prejudices offensive to people because they're oversimplifications and generalizations of who and what people actually are?
Why do we do it? Settle for the fraud... or the fake?
Laziness?
Convenience?
Are we safer that way??? Our meticulously crafted world?
What about Idolatry?? Worshipping the false God?? The convenient God of our own choosing? (Fred Phelps)... The God of our own creation?
As the world considers "Holy Week"... I wonder... do we kill the God of reality?... crucify Him because we just can't take the possibility that we might all be wrong after all?
Or is it something worse than that?
I've been reading a book by Vladimir Nabokov called "Lolita". High school friends will remember the reference by Sting... in that 80's song... "Don't stand so close to me".
-It's no use... he sees her... he starts to shake and cough...
just like the... old man in.... that book by Nabakov".
Traditionally its a very controversial book.... considered at times in history to be pornography... (primarily I think because of the tendency for moralist masses to knee jerk... and miss the point).
It was banned in England for a time because of it's subject matter.... the story of a French Literary Scholar (Humbert, Humbert) who only finds very young women... girls... attractive.. (in Humberts case.... Lolita... 12.)...
* Before judging Humbert too strongly as a random historical freak... BTW... please see the history of European monarchs... and the tradition to pledge marriage of daughters as young as 4 and 5... (actually not wedding... until around age 12 to 13)... Near eastern cultures as well.. It's believed that perhaps Mary... the mother of Jesus could have been as young as 12 or 13 when she was betrothed to Joseph.
The Nabakov book is controversial because it's a look into the polluted mind of a pervert.... a willful pedophile.. He... (Humbert.. the character.... not Nabakov... the writer)... is a dangerous ass for sure.
He's dangerous because he roams free. He has the ability to do what he wants... when he wants... Manipulate... etc. But most dangerous when he's thinking.
He is dangerous primarily because he has the freedom to think what he wants... about a thing... or a person... with no concern for rightness... accuracy... truthfulness... or reality.
He's not concerned about knowing a thing as it is... for what it is... rather he's content to settle in on his own preconceived notions about it.
What I had madly possessed was not she.... but my own creation... another.... fanciful Lolita- perhaps.... More real than Lolita... Overlapping... Encasing her.... Floating between me and her... and having no will.... no consciousness.... indeed no life of her own.
-Humbert.
This is the pornography. The idolatry. The "unholiness of it".
It's the pornographic mind of the character... (not the book) because Humbert is content to settle on conveniences in his own mind about the girl... He settles on the things he wants to believe about her.... Not the things about her that are actually true.
Let me ask....
Is this the reason that... say.. things like lawn jockeys are offensive to black people?
Stereotypes?
Are prejudices offensive to people because they're oversimplifications and generalizations of who and what people actually are?
Why do we do it? Settle for the fraud... or the fake?
Laziness?
Convenience?
Are we safer that way??? Our meticulously crafted world?
What about Idolatry?? Worshipping the false God?? The convenient God of our own choosing? (Fred Phelps)... The God of our own creation?
As the world considers "Holy Week"... I wonder... do we kill the God of reality?... crucify Him because we just can't take the possibility that we might all be wrong after all?
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