As a core team member of The Bardo Group, I have been invited, encouraged, challenged to participate in the 100 Thousand Poets for Change event. For more information about this event, and to be stirred and prodded in you own artistic lethargy, click here.
I yearn to be a poet, an artist, a musician. I often find a piece that seems so right, so seemingly effortless, so fitting that I think it can’t be hard to craft a work like that…it simply lays over its theme like a glove. Not so. Listening to music on my way to work yesterday, I heard a poet’s frustration: “I don’t know why I spend my time / Writing songs I can’t believe / With words that tear and strain to rhyme.” (Paul Simon: Kathy’s Song.)
I feel this theme of Peace and Justice coursing through my life, my thoughts, my work, my hopes, and I wonder how hard it would be to write a poem about it. I talked to a young man half my age who has studied forensic justice and just interviewed for a position as a mentor, a parole partner, someone who will help perpetrators and victims get together and talk, face to face. I thought it was a great idea, for both parties, for all parties. Here’s my attempt to let that idea percolate:
Let’s Face It
Behind the veil, the dirty shroud, the black burka, the white Klan sheet,
the knit ski mask, the heavy gas mask, the transparent oxygen mask, the impenetrable death mask,
the dense fur, the redwood bark, the shiny scales, the matted feathers,
the protective shield, the official badge, the repeated slogan,
the coarse beard, the perfect make-up,
the injections, the implants,
the scars, the screen
There is a face, a viable being.
When eyes recognize
kin and skin, then peace begins.
Face to face is the starting place.
I gotta admit, my first reaction was something along the lines of “WTF? Who takes photos at night when there’s no LIGHT?!” But this is supposed to be a Challenge, right? (an aside….Steve mentions in passing that he’d be great at making up one word photo challenges. “Yeah, like what?” “Crouton,” he said, not even skipping a beat. I am glad that “Crouton” is not this week’s theme. I have zero photos on that subject.)
Recently (well, almost 2 months ago now), we had a marvelous nighttime adventure in Chicago with my youngest, Emily. We went to Ravinia, the outdoor musical festival, for a Brahms concert. We bought only lawn seats, not the more expensive Pavilion seats. It rained all day, not too fiercely, but fairly steadily. We found that we were among the few diehard music fans that did not let that deter us from setting up a picnic on the wet lawn and dining happily under our umbrellas. When the music started officially (after a brief practice during our picnic), we packed up the food and huddled beneath the umbrellas. The rain was falling in earnest by then. At intermission, an invitation came over the loudspeaker for anyone on the lawn to move into the pavilion, as most seats were empty. A kind man handed us tickets to a box seat well under the shelter, and we moved in to warm up and dry off. It was a thrilling evening, being out in the elements, listening to live music played by real, live, dedicated musicians from Germany…and the occasional roll of thunder.
But my photos from that evening did not come out as I expected. Trying to adjust for low light is very tricky. Still, the sparkle and color and blurry atmosphere is rather fun. Pretend you’ve had a few drinks before you look at them. :)
BTW – on the menu: 5 different kinds of cheeses, 3 salads, handmade chocolate-dipped strawberries (thank you, Emily!), a light Chardonnay and the best beer on the planet (from Belgium – Maredsous).
The Word Press Daily Post Photo Challenge states: “As we sift through fleeting status updates, toss yet another egg carton in the recycling bin, and watch as seasons change around the world, it can seem like life is made of constant change.”
Well, isn’t it?
And maybe, to step outside of constant change is to see constant continuation. Thich Nhat Hahn doesn’t celebrate his birthday, he calls it a “continuation day”.
If you look deeply into the palm of your hand, you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. All of them are alive in this moment. Each is present in your body. You are the continuation of each of these people. To be born means that something which did not exist comes into existence. But the day we are “born” is not our beginning. It is a day of continuation. But that should not make us less happy when we celebrate our “Happy Continuation Day.” Since we are never born, how can we cease to be? This is what the Heart Sutra reveals to us. When we have tangible experience of non-birth and non-death, we know ourselves beyond duality. The meditation on “no separate self” is one way to pass through the gate of birth and death. Your hand proves that you have never been born and you will never die. The thread of life has never been interrupted from time without beginning until now. Previous generations, all the way back to single cell beings, are present in your hand at this moment. You can observe and experience this. Your hand is always available as a subject for meditation.
–Thich Nhat Hanh, Present Moment, Wonderful Moment