awendaw

brodiaea

lyme rickety

You are standing there again where you stood as a bright-eyed boy so long ago
In front of the hardscrabble poultry farmhouse where you grew up during the Great Depression.
You are about to begin the next chapter in your life.
You have come to get centered and we come along to see and learn.

It is what the mathematicians call a “zero trip” for you returning here.
All the vectors of direction and distance to all the places you have ever been
In the seventy some years from then to now all add up to zero.
But such a wealth of experience, knowledge and wisdom has filled you along the way!

You were here before your great lifelong happiness with your true love now gone from us.
You are here again, collecting yourself to persevere and continue on without her.

So here is this place out in the back woods where today the dirt road is in mud season ooze
Like it was then when your father took his family to scratch with the chickens
And eke out a marginal existence desperate for better times to return.
And we see that even today the current inhabitants are struggling to make ends meet.

It was hard having only a potbelly stove for heat against the harsh New Hampshire winter.
It was scary having a house fire started by a kerosene lamp in that rickety house in Lyme.
It was difficult with a finishing school mother fallen on hard times
And a frustrated father needing financing to build his great inventions.

But there were sweet happy memories here for you, too,
The kind of delights a boy will find no matter what troubles the adult world.

We see the two room schoolhouse and hear about climbing snowdrifts to walk there,
Less than 20 students all told, one room first to fourth grade, one fourth to eighth.
But you did get an excellent education somehow,
I think by reading everything you could get your hands on.

It ended in tragedy, your father despairing and taking his life,
Leaving your mother alone to keep a roof over your head and food in the pantry,
Moving to town for work, placing you in a “real” high school where you would meet your true love,
Because every crisis is an opportunity, one door closes and another door opens.

I think for that boy each day was a gift with joys to be found for the looking.
May you embrace that child as your companion and comfort in the days ahead.

spring peepers

between seasons

not so wet lands

beside still waters

for Wendy

You are sharing how it was for you those last days,
You continuing to speak to her when she could not respond,
You with so many more conversations to have with her,
Reciting the 23rd psalm over and over to ease her transition.

You lead the congregation in unison reciting the psalm
And I know it by heart and I am with you saying good-bye.
You are so emotional. Your cup runneth over.
Your heartfelt connection with her moves my heart.

Later we are talking about your special ability,
How you sense the feelings of others,
How you feel the feelings of others not expressed,
How you are compelled to express what you feel from them.

That was a gift for us there in the congregation that day,
On that special day when we make our peace
And a vibrant life becomes a collective memory.
It was an exceptional day.

Other days your gift is not so welcome.
Other times what you feel is denied.
It’s just your crazy feeling, don’t imagine
It really exists. That denial is so hurtful.

You have the companion gift of completely disingenuous trust.
If you give your word, that is your bond.
What you promise is what you do, absolutely.
And all the deceits of the world are devastating betrayals.

You have such passion to do good.
You truly love all the people of the world,
Not in an abstract way but for real in the things you do
For every person fortunate to cross your path.

Now is a time when your spirit is wounded.
You have lost she who was a part of yourself.
You are no longer whole. You were not prepared
For such an overwhelming loss.

Now my heart goes out to you.
Now I so deeply regret that I ever pushed you away
When I couldn’t handle your intense affection.
I will go to you and comfort you as best I can.

Look and See

Was it October when Venus and Jupiter and the moon were in a tight triangle
Seen from my commuter car crossing the bridge leaving Manhattan?
Since then I’ve looked every clear night at the southwestern sky
And seen the evening star is there, same place, same time.

It’s March now. Who knew? Has it been there my whole life,
Proving again we only see what we are looking for?
Has it been sitting there for all of human history and long before,
Watching over us no matter if we look back or not?

Such sights are my solace, my place of peace.
But I don’t live with my head in the clouds.
I am one of many and we all touch each other.
I live in a community. We all need each other.

Here on earth last October brought us a financial panic
And the ripple effect is more like a global economic tsunami
That is sweeping away all human constructs of wealth
In the terrible deepening crisis of capitalism.

Now spring is arriving in the natural world nonetheless,
Unperturbed by the collapse of artificial systems.
And we humans can see better what transpires in society
Is built on false assumptions of permanence.

Bang! And the planes crash into the financial center of the infidels.
Now the figures are leaping to escape the flames, thudding dead below.
Shroom! And the buildings collapse, vaporizing everyone into a giant cloud.
This is shock and awe. This is terrorism.

Last October’s crash was caused by decadence and greed,
Not some foreign ideology. And now the world economy
Is collapsing like those buildings with all of us inside.
You can smell the fear. This is the death spiral.

Is there going to be a Captain Sullenberger leader
Landing a miracle recovery on the Hudson?
Not if we all are frozen in fear when the economy
Depends upon us consuming packaged things ad infinitum.

Those who have nothing have nothing to lose
And that’s most of the people on the planet today.
Lost all your savings, did you? Welcome to the third world.
Lost your job, your house and everything? Poof!

It’s horrible, don’t get me wrong.
Grinding poverty is a life of pain and grief,
Not poetry and art. All work and no play.
I don’t wish that on anyone.

I wish that the ownership would change.
We have socialized losses and private profit.
We have privatized everything to profit the few.
We would do better to socialize everything to benefit the many.

They won’t let go. They are the party of “No.”
We have thrown up a leader for our times,
A reformer, imperfect, but he gives us hope.
We must mobilize and push to get the change we need.

early season bike ride