Saturday, July 30, 2011

constant dews

a retreat
from time,
from sun and moon,
from birdsong and flowers,
but not to a forgetting

a retreat
into mind,
to rest-in-self,
to refresh under
constant dews of thought
a retreat

into contemplation,
to fly kites with possibility;
sleep plants the seeds for tomorrow,
so sleepers awaken to a world in bloom!


© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Friday, July 29, 2011

Roll the Tide

—Roll the tide,
o roll the tide over,
roll the tide over me,
and so hide my tears
in folds of your timelessly flowing,
salty blanket of turbulence
and music.

—Roll the tide
and rock me to a watery sleep,
rock and roll me
until my cares
have worn to sand,
and lay me bare and free
in the bosom of your shore.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

This piece was written in 2009. It has been set to music by composer Michael Kaulkin, and has its debut tonight at the 43rd Kodály Institute Choral Concert7:30PM Friday, July 29th, McClean Chapel, Holy Names University, Oakland, CA.   Here is the sound file of the premier performance.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Culminations


that dream of long ago
has proved prescient, and
now lies manifest, in a being
of sorts and sundries

for, into the eye of the storm,
into the ring of fire,
as into a vivarium,
my soul has wandered
from the places of desolation

voices, as song and wind,
make their vital way center,
make their offerings heard,
and depart on wings of flame

i gather their many threads,
some of silver, some of gold,
some bronze, all bold,
and weave them by stead
on the canny loom
of my ruminations,
where they bloom
by culminations
into soft embraces
of shimmering folds

likely no final destination, this,
in our soul’s journey,
and how i arrived here,
i know not, but how
surely purposed it was,
this centering:
to tune me now,
to test me,
to gather and
to weave me
to ravel and
to give me
as my thoughts
to God

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Monday, July 25, 2011

Morning Glories

The story
of the morning glory:
a wrangling of life entwined,
raveled, traveled, envined,
all for the majesty of purple blossoms,
reaching through sun-sums
and pollen-laden pie-skies
toward a heaven sky’s dome belies--
all hailed better in the songs of birds
than in my tangle of human words.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

I woke up from a dream where I was starting to recite this, but had to finish writing it in the awakened state... Funny how that is...

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Sea Swings


           -a note to myself

Liberation!
Seats chained
to a top,
whirling dervish-like
over the horizon--
what a feeling:
nothing but
<<Liberation!>>
from gravity &
the sea air
rushing gaily
through my hair &
over my skin.

Life can be that way,
if we open the mind
to wind,
to turning,
to the impermanence
of the short ride
over the long haul.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

The Difference


Our beginnings and endings are but one motion:
an inter-weaving and an intra-weaving of possibility,
in time, out of time,
in thought, out of thought,
in being, out of being,
inspiration, expiration,
warp and weft,
with point or by vagaries,
one divine liberation from stasis,
a stream of consciousness
drawing on and form all that is,
conscious and unconscious,
wandering outward,
from eternal internal
to eternal external,
exploring nuance,
creating order
where order is not,
by a simple attraction of opposites.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Stillness Sings

This flower opens to the silence within.
The silence within opens
to the supreme stillness without.
Stillness sings;
the flower knows this
because it is alive:
the song is what draws
the bud to bloom.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Singing


Breath upon breath,
a weaving of breath
into an air.

Words on words,
enfolding, flowing,
take wing.

Sound and silence,
earth, wind, fire and water,
given voice,

Entitles
all that sounds imply,
on all that dreams may rely.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Monday, July 11, 2011

Democracy, Free Speech and Our Culture of Complaint


A recent letter to the editor of my local paper complained that one big box grocery store in town should be ashamed that their shopping carts were filthy and sometimes filled with trash. The author writes: “a very simple thing that should be without problem has turned into something that has frustrated me enough to turn around and take my business elsewhere.”

My counter to this is that taking her business elsewhere, if the calamitously unclean carts are so difficult for her to deal with, should have solved the problem. “Clearly,” the author of this letter laments, “the employees do not have a high priority for their customer’s [sic] good experience at the store.”

Unfortunately, the author of the letter could not be happy shopping at a store with clean carts, and so now the public has been invited to the party on this earthshaking frustration. How would you weigh in? If Oprah Winfrey’s talk show were still running, would she have brought this topic into the public eye?

Blaming the grocery store for the dirty carts is rather like blaming the local regional park districts for all the straws, discarded disposable (full) diapers other awful offal that litters our beaches and other recreational areas.

Here we have a question of responsibility and accountability. Who is responsible? In either case, the responsible party is the one making the mess. Who is accountable? Well, the author of the letter insists that it must be the management.

I have been among thousands of people (do-gooders) who will pick up other people’s trash at the beach. This is a simple example of taking part in a solution. I have shopped at the store accused of “lack of priority” and I have seen the shopping carts collected for steam cleaning and repair off-site. I am convinced that it is as much of a hassle for the store, as it apparently is for some of the customers, that the carts are trashed by the customers.

Carts are provided as a convenience to shoppers in American grocery stores. Public beaches are maintained for the convenience and cultural pleasure of society. There is a sense of entitlement to any person that points the finger at someone else at the imagined slight of an inconvenience.

If we extrapolate the attitude of the letter writer into a thought experiment about the political realm, what does this say about our society and our democracy? Clearly, there are certain strata of our society that feel entitled to complain that they experience inconvenience—we are spoiled. There are stores, after all, that do not have shopping carts or baskets, and there are places in the world where there are no stores, only weekly open markets—you bring your own baskets or string bags. This is the whine of the first world wannnabe (wannabe rich enough not to have to do the shopping). This kind of whining is primary evidence of a sick society.

The next thing I would wonder about is why the editor of the newspaper would find this letter worthy of printing among the other letters in the editorial page? I happen to know that many letters are written, too many to print on a weekly or daily basis (depending on the circulation of any newspaper). I know that there are many people writing letters about important local hot-button issues. Why did this letter get chosen over one about one of these others? Perhaps this is evidence of the one of the death throes of the news media—easier to print something that is not hard-hitting because it is less likely to be a threat to one of the advertisers or local political bodies. While it may be an inconvenience to me that such a paltry letter to the editor would be printed, but I won’t stop reading the newspaper because of it.

All of the mundane aspects of living are draped with webs of inconvenience, but the shopping must be done anyway. Better to have the option of shopping than not. Some people are starving right now, because of lack of food or currency. Others might be better off in that they can hunt and gather—some people don’t know how to do that. Having to shop for food at a grocery store seems among the very least of any of life’s inconveniences, and into each first world life, surely there is a grimy cart waiting to gum up one's day.

We are, apparently, a society of victims who feel a sense of entitlement to complain about all the little things, while barely having a thought to the larger issues. This is very sad, even pitiful, and is very bad news for democracy.

If we cannot fix our minds on the larger issues, if we do not make our voices known with problem-solving intent, if we are unwilling to be responsible enough pick up the trash, no matter how it got there, and move on to something cleaner and more unified and more civil within the society we call our own, then there truly is no hope. Ownership has attendant responsibility, n’est ce pas?

The woman’s letter closed with this line: “Have you no pride at all in your store?”

Personally, I would venture that the writer has too much misplaced pride, not to mention little sense of personal responsibility.

Here are a few thoughts for the day (notes to self):

Don’t waste your right of free speech on the little stuff. Don’t waste whining on public eyes and ears that we want and need to be educated and informed. Don’t blame the wrong party for what isn’t working properly. Don’t print letters of no moment in the paper.

Do be mindful, get real, be accountable, take responsibility, make your voice be known, and take part in the solution to life’s problems. AMEN!

Friday, July 8, 2011

Stalemate

Long a monument to inaction,
the days and ways to change
fly as birds on the wing.

Control is the final destination
for those who must be right;
if not me, then no one.

Passive-agression has a face:
blank eyes smolder with hate;
why are you not in my image?!

No brilliant strategy can bind;
the way to freedom, step away
and proclaim the game unworthy.

The resulting stale mate
claims a winless victory
and a libation of gall.

Birds on the wing fly away,
leading days and ways to change,
leaving droppings on all monuments of inaction.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Thursday, July 7, 2011

She Fell


A cloud
passing overhead
released a solitary drop.

She plunges through air
with as much abandon
as friction will allow her,
the while losing bits of self
to the surroundings.

Down, down, down,
she falls down;
warm through the cold,
wet through the dry

Until a violently soft contact
presages a realization

For the smallest fraction of a moment
she feels her roundness
spreading flat
over something colder,
vaster,
more dense

The vast abyss opens,
opens beneath her,
emptying her
into the flow of everything.

A short conversation,
but full of meaning:

She knew herself,
she found other,
and, recognizing it,
by the tension of the meeting,
found other welcoming,
even loving.

She belonged here,
she knew,
and was happy now to stay,
at least until the sun might
call her back to the sky.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Free Speech, Rageoholism and Flaming

Last week, I was privileged to be at an Art Slam party. That was the way a friend of mine decided to celebrate her birthday. What a fabulous idea! It was lots of fun. I made a small collage, someone else did some beading, another lady brought knitting—many people were engaged in artistic flight.

We were gabbing about this that and the other. One of the women is a journalist who runs a news blog. She was a little down because her postings on a topic that has been hot and heated in my local community had been “flamed” in the comments section. The same people, over and over again, seem to have the understanding that the blog forum is an appropriate place to say whatever you want in whatever way you want to say it. “Free Speech,” these people stridently claim when they are asked to please be nice and keep it clean. The attacks usually escalate, becoming vicious ad hominem discussions, calculated to bait you into the argument. One news blogger I know had to disallow the comments feature altogether, which she could do, because hers is an independent blog.

Is uncivil discourse in public forums really Free Speech?

No. Of course it is not. It is rageoholism, a problem rampant in our society.

If you haven’t heard of rageoholism, I would be really surprised. However, I have no doubt that you have been at the receiving end of its senseless venom.

Here is the Wikipedia definition of the term rageoholic:

A rageaholic or "anger addict" is a person who gets excited by expressing rage, or a person prone to extreme anger with little or no provocation. While "rageaholic" is not a formal medical diagnosis, it has been developed as a lay psychology term by counselors and anger-management groups seeking to help people who are chronically angry and who compulsively express fits of rage. There are also 12-step programs for dealing with rageaholics, such as Rageaholics Anonymous in Los Angeles, CA.

Key indicators of rageoholism in an individual are: compulsion, obsession, denial, withdrawal with craving, behavior that is unpredictable and irrational. It is an addiction. We had the term “road rage” long before we had the term “rageoholism”, but most road ragers are rageoholics; these folks just take out their anger from behind the wheel of a car.

When the rage addict finds the open, forum of blogging to be an easy venue, particularly within which to act anonymously. When the blogger is a purveyor of news, it is difficult to censor the community.

Rageoholics think that they have the right to behave badly, that it is okay to vent—even that venting is a healthy thing for them to do.  Ragers are “cup mostly empty” people. There can be desperation to their actions, but mostly the craving is for control of other people’s thoughts—the rager really, really wants your attention in the worst way, and needs your enabling participation in order to perpetuate the angry behavior.

When ragers act over the internet, what they do is called flaming. Here’s the Wikipedia entry on flaming:

Flaming, also known as bashing, is hostile and insulting interaction between Internet users. Flaming usually occurs in the social context of an Internet forum, Internet Relay Chat (IRC), Usenet, by e-mail, game servers such as Xbox Live or Playstation Network, and on video-sharing websites. It is frequently the result of the discussion of heated real-world issues such as politics, sports, religion, and philosophy, or of issues that polarise subpopulations, but can also be provoked by seemingly trivial differences.

Deliberate flaming, as opposed to flaming as a result of emotional discussions, is carried out by individuals known as flamers, who are specifically motivated to incite flaming. These users specialize in flaming and target specific aspects of a controversial conversation, and are usually more subtle than their counterparts. Their counterparts are known as trolls who are less "professional" and write obvious and blunt remarks to incite a flame war, as opposed to the more subtle, yet precise flamers. Some websites even cater for flamers and trolls, by allowing them a free environment, such as Flame-Wars forum.

You could call the syndrome “Bait and Bitch” and not be far from the truth. This is a mental illness that feeds on victimization and control. Every victim who engages with the rager empowers the rager to more and ramped up behavior.

This kind of rage is impotent, yet it is destructive. Victims are scarred. Damage is real.

This is the illness of a sick society.

Rageoholism is not free speech, it is the war at home.

Let us pray for our wounded society, where some people feel they have license to thrive on wounding others, because that is the only way that they can feel as though they have control or power. Let us pray for those who are wounded in this war.

--

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flaming_(Internet)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rageaholic

Monday, July 4, 2011

independence day

not from,
but to;
more specifically:
to be,
no matter
who,
what,
when,

where,
how or
why—
independence
to integral connection,
to the mindful dance
of spatial presence
and understanding,
of communion
within community,
where imperfect us
sings the chorus
to perfect now,
anticipating silence
will sing the verse
that opens our hearts
from inward outward to
together.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen