Contemplative Philosophy

 

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Gold and Pink Seashells    

I had a sailor friend,
from the South Pacific,
who asked me
a very thoughtful question,
while we were out fishing.

And I pondered, as I listened,
while we were out a fishing.

My friend, named Rongo Rongo,
asked me cool and calm: “Bro?”

“What is up with gold,
why does it mean so much?”

I said: “Where have you been man?
Gold’s used for trading,
it is pretty and it’s “styling”.

It is hard to find
deep in the mine.

It starts wars,
buys whores,
adorns blushing brides,
and funds
the bling-bling stores.

Gold is used
for new teeth,
electroplates,
and treasuries.

A medium
of exchange,
which for
everyone
is wishing.

But I want to know,
Rongo Rongo,
why do you ask,
while we are out a fishing?”

Rongo Rongo said:
"Oh, hey, that’s the kind, Bro,
I see now what gold is all about!

“Back home on the islands,
There are little pink sea shells,
that grow out on,
the deep side of the reef.

They are hard to find,
dangerous work,
but when we get them,
we tie them in a string,
and trade
with those pretty things!

Gold is like
little pink seashells!

Wars are fought over them.
Brides are traded for them.

For jewelry,
and money.
Precious, rare,
to carry, or to wear.

Get as many as you can,
then you will be,
undoubtedly,
a very wealthy man.”

And I pondered, as I listened,
while we were out a fishing.

That really made me fidget,
and feel like a mental midget.
I thought he was dumb,
but I was the one,
who learned what it’s about!

Pretty pink seashells,
pretty gold nuggets,
mediums of exchange,
so pretty,
and so strange.

We make them
into everything,
money,
flashy chains
and rings.

Pink shells,
golden nugs,
Metal coins,
easy to lug.

Minerals,
crystals,
beads,
salt,
and precious stones.

Resins,
medicines,
shekels,
script,
and bones.

I was grateful for the lesson,
from this very thoughtful question,
from a friend,
from the South Pacific.

And I pondered, as I listened,
while we were out a fishing.

 

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Mind Your Mind

Mind your mind,
Friend of mine.
We’ll get along,
All the time.

Tell you what,
I’m going to do.
I’ll mind my mind,
Back to you.

 

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What is Time?

What is time?
The dancing of bodies,
spinning around each other,
dancing ever on
through the endless moment?

What is this notion
of clocks
that move as drumbeats
pounding the march
and progression
of earth around sun?

Abide in the present.

All else is the phantom
of memory
and anticipation
that binds you
in the notion
of self, and
what is real.

The real you
is as timeless
and eternal
as the universe
when you find
yourself
ever
in the now.

Go there and stay,
without looking forward
or back.

Go there
and watch
creation unfold. 

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Duality Versus Paradox

The angry crowd
Leaves me weary
And frightened.
All this senseless fuss.

It’s hard to see
Over a big round globe,
So we make a flat coin
With two sides,
Then shout and scream
Heads, no, tails!

Both sides make the whole.
All along continuum,
Grow the summer fruit,
Green, ripe then rotten.
Paradox begets duality.

Green, ripe, then rotten.
Along the continuum,
Arising, Sustaining,
Fading, Forgotten.


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What Remains?  

What remains after the end?
Nothing?
An interim?
A new beginning?

A circle game,
where losers lose
and winners win?

Or, turned inside out,
where spoils are lost,
and sacrifice repays it’s cost?

To whom does the loss arise?
To whom does the “I” arise?
That I am, is all I am.

Who can say? Who can say?
What remains after then?
Who can say what’s lost?

Waiting well is everything.
Happy to wait and see.

Gathering sustenance,
Playing,
Remaking The miracle.

Gathering grain, earning pay.
Passing through, another day.

Until it’s time for harvest
I wait in surrender
to the whirling
of the green globe,
around the ember sun,

Glowing coal,
throwing sparks,
that illumine,
giving light,
giving life,
in the freezing,
empty dark.

And then
someday 
far away
the green globe
turns red,
and falls
Into the furnace
where it all began.

Who can say? Who can say?
Where, and if, it ends?
Who can say? Who can say?
Where it all begins?

 

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It Amazes Me

They brought sunflowers to my funeral.
It made me so happy that I cried,
causing a warm rain to fall
from my vantage point
above it all.

There is too much coincidence
to say it is only happenstance,
which truly amazes me.

At this moment, quiet and still,
I perceive more than this cool rainy day
that comes with the renewal of Spring,
and the promise of redemption therein,
a reassurance that the wait is over
and growth has been primed
with a chance to begin again,

It seems to me so strange today.
I am sure in this moment
that all at once
I am already dead
and yet to be born,
here now, bearing witness to that.

After decades of wondering
about the notion of reincarnation
I have empirical truth
that it is in fact so.

My evidence resides
here at home with me.
My new brain, eyes, experience
has come as a gift
from their mother and I.

Divine Mother,
Mother Nature,
My Child's Mother.
They teach me about myself
as we begin again, anew,
which truly amazes me.

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Nothing Ever Happens

Nothing ever happens,
and nothing ever will.
It just goes by, bye and bye,
and never will be still.

Nothing ever happens,
and nothing ever will.
Oceans of notions
a feast upon, and swill.
Nothing ever happens,
and nothing ever will.

Watching the watcher,
mirror from within,
seeing all that's passing,
without jumping in,
to illusions of tomorrow,
anticipation reigns.

The contrivance of the notion
that yesterday remains,
except as a memory
that slowly, surely, wanes.

Nothing every happens,
and nothing ever will.
It just goes by, bye and bye,
and never will be still.

Now is where all resides,
here is all there is.
For me to stay by your side,
savoring the bliss.

Nothing ever happens,
and nothing ever will.
Together by your side,
always there, until...

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Sacred Symbols

Sacred symbols
on the signs.
Soliloquies
speak silently
into the mind.

Encyclopedic books
Written in simple marks.
Ideas abound
In cosmic sound.

Notation of
complex wisdom
expressed in
simple parts.

Sacred Symbols
Say it all
in stokes of lines
and marks divine
carrying wisdom
through space and time.

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Darkened Veil

Death, please lift your darkened veil,
So I can see the onward trail.
So I might know loving grace,
And fail into sweet embrace.

Death, please lift your darkened veil,
So I can see the swirling sun.
So I can see the earth below,
Redeemed each day, in burning glow.

Death, please lift your darkened veil,
Show what remains, when all has failed.
Please show me, my destiny,
as I enter in, to eternity.

Death, please lift your darkened veil,
so peacefully spirits can sail.
With wings, may dreams, then take flight,
bringing us in, to The Light.

Death, please wait, until my time is near.
Just as in birth, you hold me dear,
Though I love life, you're too my friend,
showing where one thing starts,
and another ends.

Death, you are an angel dear,
Unto the Lord, delivered there.
For lessons learned, forgiveness begged.
I try my best, for a life well lived.

Death, please lift your darkened veil,
So I can see the onward trail.
So I might know loving grace,
And fall into sweet embrace.


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Two Wrongs Don't Made A Right

Two wrongs don't make a right.
It takes two to have a fight.
Too much hate, to little love,
I say this to the stars above.

The stars, attentive, listen well,
and smile upon where we dwell.
Their inspiration begets change,
healing hearts of those deranged.

If you do wrong, then I wrong you,
there's nothing left for us to do.
Because two wrongs don't make a right,
and it takes two to have a fight.

Too much hate, cries the dove,
singing to the stars above.
The stars, attentive, listen well,
and smile upon where we dwell.

On the good side, the side of love.
Walk away, when push makes shove.
Because two wrongs don't make a right,
and it takes two to have a fight.


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