Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Is There Life Beyond The Jetsons?


The future blurs before us now, blazing a trail we have initiated and will perhaps be unable to halt or even slow. It is also possible we will not be able to follow this trail. If Prometheus has been unbound, what kind of future has been unleashed?

C’era una volta, an individual who embarked upon and completed a university education was considered a person of the world, one who had encountered a sufficient breadth of knowledge and had developed the ability to think broadly and critically. By critical thinking, I mean the ability to embrace life’s questions as an entré to a lifelong journey of discovery, where answers are more likely to be provisional, rather than arrival points. Such an education was meant to encourage independent thinking.

In the twilight of the humanist Enlightenment ideal of the university, we see that the corporate commodification of education has presented as the new ideal (indeed a new product for consumption in a marketplace that vaguely resembles a high-priced flea market) that education must be goal-oriented, the goal being, of course, career preparation. This model university is universal only in that it allows one universal opportunity to sacrifice the mind for an idée fixe, that of entering the job marketplace with a specialized knowledge.

If any trend has made education elitist, this is it. Where for hundreds of years, academia was able to engage with the corporate world without compromising independent thought, now this may no longer be possible. The public has been sold on the corporate advertising myth: education is too expensive to publicly fund. Now we will all have to pay more for education, so that we can learn less and ask fewer questions.

Technology, the primary tool of the captains of industry and finance, has contributed to a state of affairs whereby the average person, rather than being served by technology, is forced to run after it. Technology has not freed the human for contemplation and rest. Technology has become the equal opportunity slaver. Quite simply, if you don’t have it and don’t know how to use it, you are useless and will be left behind. If you don’t have the very latest, you are passé.

There was a time when auto repairs could be done by most everyone, with a few parts and tools. That time has been gone for decades, since the advent of computer components. While people are expected to know how to use computers, for the most part they do not know how computers work, much less how to repair hardware or applications. Where there was had always been craftspeople to repair watches and other items, there are few such people left—they are dying at an alarming rate, and there are no young people willing to learn their arts. There has been a revival in the art of handmade paper and books, but there any people left who do hand engraving? No, but there is a technician who can run a machine that will do a flimsy sort of engraving that has no character or depth. The computer technician can diagnostics on your machine and maybe (though sometimes not) solve your difficulty, although you will not learn what the problem was or how it might be avoided or remedied should it occur again.

With technology has come the expectation that humans can and will perform work at greater speeds, and for longer periods of time. People have been trained to answer their calls, rather than allow the automatic features to take messages for them. People have been trained to work through lunch and dinner and vacations. Business, because it has been globalized, is transacted 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. In short, people have been and are being trained to live for work, not work to live.

There must be a breaking point. Where will it show itself? Probably the fruits of this will be marked by increased illness and individual dysfunction and inability to cope, but also in greater division and divisiveness among individuals and societies.

A computer can make millions of computations per minute, but it does not have life independent of the user. A computer is capable of diagnostic functions, but not of self-examination. The liberal arts university education promoted free thought that was directional outward, but also intended the ability for self-reflection. The blur of a future blazing beyond the Jetsons seems poised to obliterate independent thought, as well inwardly directed contemplation.

There is a remedy for this dilemma: we must remember that computers and other electronic devices do not live. We can turn them off. We must remember that the human mind is capable of self-reflection and abstract, expansive, outwardly directed thought. We must remember that thought does not cost money; our thoughts cannot be owned by anyone. We must remember that our minds are worth more than technology, and our thoughts will outlive the relevance of technology. The computer stops when it is turned off, but the mind at rest is still alive, awake, and at work during sleep, even if that work is only apparent as a dream.

Further, education never need end at a degree. Too many people stop reading and thinking, once the degree is in hand. A degree is not the key to your potential, not the key to your mind nor, these days, necessarily the key to a career.  

When the years of formal education end, the lifetime of informal education begins. A public library card is your free ticket to lifelong journey of learning, free association of ideas and free thinking. 

Take time, each day, to turn off all your machinery. Then, turn on your mind.

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Memorial Day


Open, oh holy earth,
open and accept this flesh,
this flesh that once breathed
and walked carefree above ye,
little knowing, little knowing.

We have committed much to death,
where we might have planted seeds for peace;
we have committed too many to war,
where flesh has lost to gross weaponry,
and, dear earth, you have lost holy ground,
to the insanity of blood and rubble.

Open, oh holy earth,
open and accept this flesh,
accept this sacrifice
we made unknowingly,
and now painfully regret;
please let us consign to you
the body of our honorable servant,
late and lamented, spent
—renew the sanctity of your guest.

Then, allow us to attend to thee,
oh, gentle—oh, most holy earth,
—to tend those wounds
we made in the name of death,
to amend for our grievous sin
against you, against life,
little knowing, little knowing.

Open, oh holy earth,
open and accept now this flesh:
a living sacrifice
to life and renewal,
to seeds and growth,
to nature and nurture,
to love and life,
to life loved,
as never life
has ever
been
by us
but, nevertheless,
is
in you.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Endless Now


Mindful footfalls on the shore
sift the sands of time and trial,
shifting thoughts from forward back,
then forward again
to beyond the scope,
where time may bend
and slow, to revel as
endless now.

Counting breaths,
like grains of sand,
like counting glittering music
as it dances away in the wind,
a less than linear movement
that finds completion
glorying in new pathways
to trace endless now.

Thoughts flitter, flutter and flow,
flowering as freely as the wind;
even as thought is tied to form
within all repetitive motions
that construct the sentient world
and feed the conscious flesh,
this free flight is full autonomy
in endless now.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Friday, May 27, 2011

Question Mark on the Face of Tomorrow

Life: A straight line, or a haphazard zigzag? This is a question many people don’t consider.

Most people assume that life is a straight line, punctuated by arrivals at goals. We are so goal oriented, in fact, that we probably miss a lot of opportunities that life could afford us, if we would but look up, out and around more frequently.

We don’t consider that even a stream of thought is a valuable process, one that starts somewhere within our consciousness, either to find completion, or punctuation by pauses, lapses or gaps—perhaps to be taken up at a later time, or not.

So many people grab at the quick answers. There is nothing wrong with asking for direction(s) or guidance. But sometimes blindly accepting answers is an abdication of experiencing a formative path.

What are we doing when we faithfully accept the guru’s pronouncement that the world is coming to an end? Giving up? Selling up? That is abdication. What happens when we purchase the latest fad herbal diet product? Giving up exercise and proper diet? That is abdication. When the world monetary fund fails to safeguard world economies, enriching a few at the expense of the multitudes, that is criminal abdication of responsibility.

On the other hand, what are we doing when we reject the ready answers provided by fallible people? It is possible that we are being foolhardy. It is also possible that we are embracing the haphazard zigzag that is the question mark on the face of tomorrow.

There are people who set out their goals, following a linear path toward achievement so closely that they never stray from their path long enough to notice the flower garden they pass everyday. There are people who allow their technological tools to be their only true friends, eschewing the multiple opportunities for connection with real people who surround them in their daily lives and work. When such people, due to unforeseen circumstances, become dislodged or derailed from their plotted course, they don’t know what to do.

Life is not about finishing, winning, or landing. It is not about permanence, security or roots. It is not about swift and empty answers.

Life is about the journey, and being present in the journey wherever you are, at any given moment of any given day.

Do you want to take the journey? The way is not to be found on the straight highway, the leveled mountain, or smooth plain. The way is found by engaging the question mark on the face of tomorrow. You can ask for directions and for guidance, but chances are, you will have to pull out your compass and find your own way, even if that means stumbling around some and losing your way. Not many people will know anything about the way that you are going, and the satellite photos don’t show what the landscape of life will reveal.

That’s the way it is supposed to be.

If there is one wish I have for you, it is this:

Please be sure to enjoy where you are while you are there. And send me a postcard, when you can.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

More Things


First, a call: sounds giving ideas and desires musical wings;
Next, a response: potential rising from nothingness into form;
A complete transaction, resulting in creation.

Imagine what more things might rush to become,
Were we to enter into deeper conversation with infinity.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Voice Lesson


Breathe in,
breathe out.

Vibrations come from the heart,
Strength rises up from the earth
through the feet and legs,
supporting the ball of energy
just below the diaphragm.

The supported diaphragm
meets the vibrations of the heart
with loving intensity.

Part the lips,
freely, easily;
let the jaw hang,
be open.

Breathe in,
engage support,
sing out.

Once this mastered,
shape the tone,
then shape the words
then shape the phrase,
then shape the song,
then shape your being,
then shape your life.

Singing is
a practice
not a perfect;
not a destination,
but an exploration
of God’s creation
via sonic expression.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Draughting


unhampered by outcome
the vanishing line becomes
freedom for new
perspective &
dimension.

uninhibited by form
the mind flows toward
the vague and distant
presence,
seeking coalescence.

unencumbered by conformity,
the spirit gathers itself
for omni-linear
exploration &
expansion.

uninhabited,
the foreground
represents every
convention
left behind.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Friday, May 20, 2011

Scorecard for the Coach

Dear Coach,

Now that the season is well and truly over, I thought you might like a little feedback.

Training: I thought you and the other coaches provided good solid training, with kindness and humor, and I thank you for that. The boys could have used more batting practice. And less rain.

Communication: Well, sometimes the messages came late. (Yeah, we don't blame you for that one that never came. Everyone has a bad day.) Would have been helpful if specific times could have been mentioned. “Have your boy on the field at 3pm” doesn’t seem like too long a message to get the point across and avoid confusion.

Timeliness: When you say that you will hold players to being on time, it is good to be there to meet them at the appointed times, once these have been adequately communicated.

Strategy: Particularly when the season has gone so badly, why not shake things up and try kids in different positions? To keep with the same playbook, even and especially when it is not working, is why the government is failing our nation.

I know that you don’t have to care about this, your job is over for the season and you may never see my son again, but here’s the thing: my son never played baseball before last year. He started out in AA division with no experience. By the end of the season, he was one of the more valuable players on his team, which came in 4th. He was regularly playing the infield at third, shortstop and second. As a batter, he was pretty good, for a newbie; more importantly, he has a good eye. As you know, when he gets on first, he is quite a base thief. He went on to play Berkeley Summer League, and his team, which started out having to forfeit games, because they did not have enough players on the field, came from behind to play the championship game, and come in 2nd. Again, he played infield. Quite a result, for a boy who had never played any sport before. 

Because my son was given so little play time this season, and in a remote part of the outfield, he had little opportunity to hone any of the skills he had acquired last year.

My boy is no superstar, but he is a solid and consistent team player. Burying him in right field, when your infield was consistently so piss poor, was a crime. My son kept coming home saying “I wish I could help my team where I play well.”


We thought jumping to Majors was a stretch, and almost tried to hold him down to AAA. But we thought the older boys would help pull the younger ones along, and that he would get valuable experience. HA! What a joke! We’ll never make that mistake in judgment again (now that the situation will never recur). We should have said something, but were trying to follow the rules and not interfere. As it was, we don't know if it was a stretch or not, because he really wasn't tested.

Minimum Play Rule: B.S. ('Nuff said.)

Injured Players: What kind of tomfoolery is it to rush injured batters onto the field? I don’t care how valuable that player is, you invite aggravation to the injury, even further injury, and compromise the competence of your defense. Why can't they warm the bench and rest for an inning, to come back fresh later?

Sportsmanship: I never saw a group of boys with such a bad attitude. The older ones, who bragged about their ability especially when they did not deliver the goods, blamed the younger kids for their own errors. Sad commentary. My son was blamed for the loss of many games, even when he had been sitting on the bench while all the mistakes were being made on the field. Cute. Meanwhile, when he tried to be encouraging to teammates from the bench, he was rewarded with derision. I had to give him pep talks after every practice and every game. He was doing his part; where were the others in this thing called team effort

Responsibility. Sportsmanship. Courage. Character. Isn't that supposed to be part of the Little League experience?

The interesting and unique thing about the human species is that it takes 20 years to nurture an individual to full adulthood. The critical thinking function of the human brain is not capable of development until an individual is 20-22 years of age. There are a lot of bipedal animals roaming the streets of America because hundreds of thousands of adults turned a deaf ear and a blind eye to the behavior of young people, and decided it is not my job to teach them what is right. But you and I know it takes hundreds and thousands of teachers, over an entire lifespan, to form a good, solid human being—one who has a good character, self-control, self-esteem and compassion.

In conclusion, I hope my son will shake off this disappointing experience (on so many levels) and want to continue playing. I hope he will decide to tryout again next Spring. And, just so you know, it does not matter to us that the team didn't win! Sure, they could have done better. My boy knows it is not about winning. He knows it is how you play the game when you show up at the field. That is what we have taught him about life. (Too many people have the mistaken notion that life is about winning. But life is really about living, isn't it?)

Maybe, next year, my son will have a real opportunity to play.

Best of luck in your future endeavors.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

The Legacy of Time

It has been interesting, over the course of the past few years, to see the downfall of some of our politicians over their sexual infidelities. Here is a partial roll-call:

Newt Gingrich
John Ensign
John McCain
John Edwards
Gary Hart
Jim McGreevey
Elliot Spitzer
Gary Condit
Rudy Giuliani
Mark Sanford
David Vitter
Bob Livingston
Mark Foley
Jesse Jackson
Barney Frank
Tim Mahoney
Mike Duvall
Gavin Newsom
Arnold Schwarzenegger
… and many, many more!

Notice anything about the list? No, they are not all Republicans… They are all MEN! Power is, evidently, an aphrodisiac. Power also seems to provide access to a wider range of folks than one might find at home.

It is interesting that one doesn’t see women politicians similarly implicated. Perhaps this is because the field of female politicians is smaller than that of their male counterparts. It has also been suggested that female power is a turnoff to men; that may well be true.

What I find interesting is that all these folks are involved in policy making, and a lot of the time, while they have talked about family values and morality, the policies they have advocated do not support families, family life, children, or the environment. And then we find out the truth of their family values and moral fiber.

We elected these men (perhaps they should no longer be called gentlemen), sometimes based on speeches made during campaign tours, posing with spouses and children. Like homes that are professionally staged before being put for sale on the market, this is an advertising ploy. And we fall for it, in a big way… in fact, almost every time. Part of the “marketing” and “packaging” of a candidate is called Moral Credentialing, whereby a person establishes (or has established for him) a moral image. Once someone (male or female) has an established moral image, studies have shown that person may subsequently feel free to behave less ethically.

Now, let’s take a look at religion for a moment. Here again, there are a lot of men at the top of the heap of religious leaders. Many of these leaders have helped to maintain male domination over women in matters of work, culture, politics and religion. There seems to have thousands of years of mythmaking around the notion of a male god who created everything at the beginning of time. This, even though it is clear that there were ancient female divinities. Future generations, moving forward from the beginning of time, of male leaders were evidently turned off by the idea that feminine power could create, and so these ancient myths about female divinities were hijacked or obliterated, as far as possible.

Many people don’t realize that a universal element in creation stories is family. Everything may have been created by something divine (female or male of inclination, or both), but after that, there are children who procreate. We are a human family, however it was our species was created and has evolved—and isn’t it interesting that most of the stories have humans listed as the last of the creations?

Life is about family, revolves around family, promotes family. God should be firmly about family and about life, shouldn’t it?

Yet, we continue, as humans, to be embroiled in the constant need, even desperate desire, to have pecking orders and supremacy and authority and control over others (whomsoever others may be). And, I hate to say it, because there are a lot of terrific fellows out there, but the major players in this are men.

There is this moral image being pushed at us all the time, and over it is superimposed the false notion that the Divine is male only. To which I reply, if the Divine had been male, rather than female or even androgynous (which circumstance does appear in some creation myths), then why would there be the any need at all for female energy? If the male energy were so important and so special, why create two genders?

But, ladies, I'll let you in on the joke. The men can't handle the awful truth that women bear the children. Men can talk any kind of game they want to about creation and about the divinity being male, but they cannot change the fact that women bear the children and women hold the family together.

Women bear the legacy of time. Men have never been able to compete with that.

Maybe if men start getting pregnant, the landscape of things will change. I don’t see this happening, in either the foreseeable future or beyond.

But here is another question: What if the Divine were male and as unfaithful as some of our politicians and our religious leaders have been? Would or should anyone follow an unfaithful god? Taking it farther, would or should anyone follow policy made by unfaithful leaders? Further, should nice people (men or women) follow unfaithful men (or women)?

If the answer is not clear, then there is something wrong. 

Meanwhile, a better focus for one’s attention and energy might just be the notion that human beings, male and female, were created to be. The human family universal ought to honor the family, in all gender presentations and combinations, and in all children. Why? Because family is the evidence of the continuance of life, and life is the Holy Divine (male and female and neutral), from generation to generation. Family is the most inclusive group in the world, not that that always makes it an easy group to be in—but the point is you cannot choose your family; you come into it, whether it is your nuclear family, your community family, your regional family, your continental family, your world community. However you got here, you came into this world—to be—and wherever you are in this large picture, you have a place and a role to fulfill within this family, and that is holy!

I firmly believe that if we, as a species, could have faith in our human family as evidence of the sacredness of life, the landscape of attitudes, ethics and morals, religion and politics would truly change. Who knows, some of it might be rendered useless and go away forever. And wouldn't that be nice?

Meanwhile, the end of the world is supposed to happen on Saturday.

But, this is the way of enlightenment: I will be among the cleanup crew on Sunday.

(sigh)

Someone has to bear the legacy of time.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Meditation


In the dream that opens
from inward out
the heat of the day
cools all possibility of thought
like a sudden rain in the garden
falls upon the printed page
rendering the imprinted characters
a sodden and murky pulp mural
that tells me nothing now
if ever it did

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Songstress


Never had there seemed so many hours
as lately there had been, like flowers,
all requiring music, by turns and towers.

The map of the head of the point
is convoluted,
possibly even polluted,
but in any case, inside out,
so a call came in from the tenor section,
requiring the sort of response,
by way of melodic line,
from one tonality to another,
or at least to the needed destination.

This, but one line in a fugue,
muddy, and instrumentally Moog,
guiding arrivals and departures
for all the birds of the sky,
as well as the cleanups, nigh,
of their minor mishaps,
evident all over the tarmac.

The phone rings again,
introducing yet another part,
and so the counterpoint thickens, thins
waxes and wanes into a sticky wicket thicket
—Ah, only a desperate sales call;
they had tried a dozen times before,
but perhaps the thirteenth time
will be the charm,
and the hapless caller
thinks to disarm
my brain.

Meanwhile, the music unravels
into a rubble-like rumbling gravel,
and seeks to go bounding along,
like a steam calliope,
to the circus,
as if that is truly
what should happen next.
From her cheeks to her hair,
the flames rise beyond care,
threatening to set curtains alight,
not to mention the folded laundry,
but thankfully in time to warm the dinner,
hopefully before the call goes out,
not at all for the fun,
to 9-1-1.

Please quell the flare,
and give this songbird flight
from the musical madness
of chairs in pairs,
lines and signs;
find resolution on your own,
ye dogs, cats, cars, cans and kin!

This girl needs a biscuit, some flan,
and a warm, soothing tisane.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Friday, May 13, 2011

Working Well With Others


My children are working on a collaborative construction project, in their respective classes. The class is divided up into working groups of students, each of whom has been assigned one or several roles in the assignment: to design and construct a load-bearing bridge with toothpicks. The assignment sounds like a lot of fun, and a chance to work with a real-life construction project on a small scale and with a hypothetical budget. Once the projects are complete, there will be a contest between the classes, for best- and greatest-load-bearing design.

My daughter was complaining to me that the child on her team who is supposed to be engaged in management and oversight, in addition to make sure that the “job site” is clean and “safe” has been shirking these responsibilities. Normally, my daughter would just shrug and make sure things were handled, but in this case, two other team members have been out. So, in essence, my daughter feels she has been carrying the project, and she told me it seemed unfair.

She said that she had tried to communicate to the person in question, only to be put off or growled at.

I had to laugh.

How frequently do we find, in our lives, in our lives, that gate keepers, managers, people entrusted with the work of oversight and management seldom live up to their job descriptions or pay?

How often do we try to keep it all going, on our own?

How much stress does this add to our daily lives?

Does this affect our love of work?

Cooperative effort requires team players. Teachers in our schools work hard to teach our children to work together in problem solving. What do we adults model? Do we model best practices in the areas of cooperation? Or will it be marked on our life report card: “doesn’t work well with others?”

I suggested that my daughter speak to a higher authority about her grievances, namely to her teacher. I even advised seeking arbitration.

“Well, I don’t want her to get in trouble; then she’ll really get mad at me.”

I then suggested that I would make some small signs, to put into the hands of some action figures. The plan would be post the action figures around “the job site,” as if there was a strike picket line. The signs would proclaim:

                  “MANAGEMENT UNFAIR TO LABOR!”

My daughter was appalled. “Oh, MOM! That is not going to stop her!”

I said, well, perhaps not, but it would bring public attention to a situation that really comes up in the world of work. Such events can even delay or shut down projects.

“You just want to embarrass me!”

“No, I want to embarrass her into doing what she is supposed to do,” I replied.

“Ah, mom.”  She dismissed this entire notion as being ridiculous.

“If you don’t talk to your teacher tomorrow, the action figures hit the picket line on Friday!”

“Mom, you have no respect for me!”

“I have every respect for you, and your best interests at heart—you are a laborer and you are being oppressed by management!”

“Hmph,” she said, “well, maybe you should have a little less respect for me…”

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Forest or Trees


Deeper into the forest of books go I,
but less seem to learn of them;
the thickets of words, veritable mazes,
of which depth is oft proclaimed,
soon wear out their glib welcome
and inevitably thin to the same weedy patch,
wet and reedy, murky and muddled,
that I have explored before
--but I desire more.

The in-depth studies, the colorful analogs,
the structured cases resemble less
the actual beauty of the forest or the tree
--and I desire more.

The universe smiles wearily at my dilemma,
the untamed wilderness yawns lazily at my feet,
and the wild unknown beckons me toward its reality
--and I desire its shore.

Didn't she know? they sigh, sharing their inward smile,
experience trumps book-learning, every time;
Desire, bared upon the open shore,
shall most surely find more.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Reflections on Reality, Love and Family

There have been so many things, lately in the news, that have made me reflect on the concept of "reality."

For example, when you read an entire arc of written history and find that the ancient notion of Trinity has been purposely derailed from being Father-Mother-Child to Father-Son-and-[(female in name origin only) Holy Spirit], you tend to suspect that the proper order of things has been usurped to fit a human agenda that can often seem less evolved and fit for holy work than one would hope for humanity (which claims to want peace even while raising their weapons to conquer).

The historical model Father-Mother-Child really needs a more modern amendment to  acknowledge the actually exisiting model of [Responsible&Committed Parent(s)-Grandparents-Guardians-Villagers]-Child(ren—history reveals this to be the reality of what has actually happened, through times ancient and modern, in thick and thin, in times of war and peace.

I just wish that reality what actually happens didn’t have to constantly obscured, diminished, denied, denigrated, fought over and legislated, so we could all get on with the actual (and more important) holy business of loving each other—from within the sacred choices we have made about our identities—and caring for each other and our beautiful planet, which is, after all, supposed to be the whole point of this existence.

Maybe someday there will be a holiday called “Stipulation Day”, where everyone could remember the day we all said, Okay, we’re ALL so COOL! Let’s CELEBRATE that we’re all taking care of each other, and that this is the way it should be!


(sigh)

But, the problem with holidays is that we have parades where we all line up in separate groupings. We reduce everything to sentiments that are printed on cards and balloons. Over time, we forget what the holiday was ultimately all about, and why it was needed.

Perhaps a better solution is to make everyday a Sabbath day, where there is time for work, time for play, time for celebration, time for reflection and time for rest. Is it possible? Could life be like that?

Meanwhile, I feel so VERY LUCKY to live in a part of the world were there is so much more consciousness about the multiple definitions and dimensions of family and neighbor--and life.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

The Vine


You didn't choose me, but I chose you, and appointed you, that you should go and bear fruit, and that your fruit should remain.                    ~ John 15:16

Showers of tears,
the fruit of the vine
touched by a raging sun;
yet, still she reaches out,
season after season,
ever onward and upward.

Despite such daily assault,
no bright flames
shall singe nor harm her;
and her fruit shall nourish
the nations with the sweetness
of a love like no other.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

This poem has been set to music by Carson P. Cooman,
in his cycle of songs for solo voice entitled Brief Vibrations, Op. 870


Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Waiting for the Barbarians—21st Century Update

NOTE: This is not an original work by me, but it is an homage to the work of the modern Greek poet C.P. Cavafy. This monumental poem of his is about society and politics. Current events called this poem to my mind, and made me reconsider it in a new light. If you exchange the word terrorist for the original word barbarian, there is almost a direct parallel. I have made further tweaks, to make the poem modern--the opposite of Cavafy’s, which was set to reflect an ancient time. The word fear does not show up in the original or in this refiguring, but fear is the undercurrent that rocks this poem.

ÐÑ

                                           Waiting for the Terrorists

What are we waiting for, glued to our iPhones,
                       Twitter feeds and social media?

      The terrorists are due here today.

Why isn’t anything going on in the senate?
Why are the senators sitting there not legislating?

      Because the terrorists are coming today.
      What’s the point of senators making laws now?
      Once the terrorists are here, things will be too chaotic to legislate.

Why did our president get up so early,
and why is he sitting in the oval office,
ready to make a statement?

      Because the terrorists are supposed to be coming
      and the president has been waiting to receive their leader.
      He’s even got a document to give him,
      loaded with criminal charges.

Why have our generals come out today
Wearing their uniforms and armed with loaded guns?


      Because the terrorists are coming today.
      [The order is “shoot to kill”;
                 there will be no trial.]

Why isn’t anyone telling us what is going on?
Where are the reporters of the news media?

      The terrorists are coming today!

Why this sudden triumphant joy, this confusion?
(How joyful people’s faces have become!)
Why are the streets and squares filling so rapidly,
With everyone going home chanting slogans and yelling epithets?

      Because night has fallen and the terrorists have been murdered by our military.
      And some of our men just in from the farthest borders claim,
      Along with the government, that there are no terrorists any longer.

Now what’s going to happen to us without terrorists?
For our government, terrorists were a kind of solution.


ÐÑ

Source of the original version of this poem:
C.P. Cavafy: Collected Poems 
Translated by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard Translation Copyright © 1975, 1992 by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard (Princeton University Press, 1975)

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

How to Change the World

I returned home, from a weekend away (in the peaceful countryside), to a battery of news that whipped around from "Royal Wedding" to "Death of Bin Laden" to "U.S. RULES!" I was dizzy all day Monday. I am still dizzy.

I wrote this morning:
The banner line reads: A World Changed. I say, Really? The figurehead may be gone, but the underlying problem, that which caused the figurehead to resort to terror, is not. Where is the problem? We need to look into the collective societal mirror. Do we honor life? Do we make peace? By our fruits, we are known. Do we really know what these are? Do we really buy into the policies that our leaders enact in our names?
I wonder if we really know how we stupid and foolish we are, like five year olds on a playground who cannot share the rubber ball. The decisions we make, as adults, sometimes seem to echo the mean and selfish child. Whereas we took pride in building the sandcastle and wielding the stick then, we now take pride in destruction and death.

How sad. How unenlightened. How un-evolved.

After a similar event several years ago, while some other tyrant fell (while we crowed) and other awful events occurred, I wrote this to a friend:
We spoke of emotional pain, and wondered together how it was possible to give others excellent advice that we cannot follow for ourselves. Recalling [a] recent sermon [where it was discussed how we are each made in the image of God], I surmised that it is not possible for us to look into the mirror--we must be face to face with the true image of God in order to receive the information God has to impart, and that it is for just that reason that primarily that there is more than one being. [Individuals] are necessary reflections of the ultimate truth that a mirror can only hint at; however broad and fine the resolution, a mirror image of self fails to impart what a living, breathing person can...
The mystery lives not only on the paten and in the chalice, but within the fragile architecture of sound [and of touch and of interactions and of speech and of so many other ephemeral things]...
I must admit, the horror of the continuing carnage of the ongoing conflict/WAR, combined with the equally senseless one-off horrors of events such as those at Virginia Tech, have engulfed me in an unspeakable sorrow. I went to my church, while the twins were at their respective karate and ballet lessons, and sat with the pastor, talking and praying. It was my thought to bring the church community together in a liturgy, not just to pray, but to cherish life, living, and the lives of the departed--not an office of the dead, but an office for the life eternal, on earth and not on earth. 
The office is supposed to honor life, but somehow, we get stuck on the death part, and glorify that more.

Today is a New Day, the newspapers proclaim. But I sit with Jeremiah and Micah on my shoulders, and I say that we have not been honest with ourselves, and that we continue to teach war and destruction and death and oppression and might-makes-right. And we give away our authority to people who misuse it, in our names.

I shudder that I sit with Evil Under The Sun everyday, and hear it called Goodness and Righteousness. Then someone says, "hey, let's go celebrate with a drink!"

Oh, darkness, darkness, how I am surrounded by it.

The mystery lies ever beyond, however. The mystery is engulfed in light. Our vocabulary cannot ever describe the life that the mystery holds and creates, vero de vero, being light within light. The Word is God, but we have never been able to hear it the way it should be heard, and so we cannot speak the mystery.

However, if we would but shut up, for a few minute--if we could stop the endless, mindless chatter of mouths and keyboards and even archaic pencils and pens, we might let the mystery speak to us.

Speak to me, Sweet Mystery! Speak to me! Teach me about light and life! Render my actions in the image of Your brilliance and peace, and guide me!

In the midst of darkness, I can apprehend your light, Oh Mystery Divine!

And I suspect that Yours is the only revolution that will survive.

Because it is not a war; we have misidentified the whole thing.

We need to lose the "r".

It is an evolution.