Meditations in Fast Times: 40. We may come out of the desert

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others. This entry completes the series.

                40.

We may come out of the desert
or down from the mountain
thinking the end is the end,
but truly I say unto you:
the end is only the beginning.

From the time we are born,
we learn about sound.
By forming words
and attaching meanings,
by the twin arts
of speaking and singing,
we experiment in order
to discover the ways in which
words can be formulated, just so,
to make bridges
that connect
every last to every next,
binding past to future
by way of now.

We hope to speak properly
—just as we hope every bridge we build
will be firmly welded and bolted—
with phrases begun and completed
properly, meaningfully, even tunefully.

Even so,
despite all best intentions and pronouncements,
the avalanche will fall,
the boat will sink,
the plane will crash,
the land will slide,
and in each case
the dead go before us.

We hope that they help
to prepare a place for us;
truly, that is faith
—and that is how time is both timeless
and redeemed,
for it never ends.

This can never end,
our seeking and our striving;
our experience here is everything,
even when nothing can come of it.

Every path to elsewhere leads nowhere,
leads home;
home is where we start from
and where we return.

While we are about it,
whatever it is,
there is always the chance
that the earth will quake,
that the stone shackle
will be cast aside,
and an Angel will appear,
saying that all shall be well.

The Angel would be right,
of course,
for the Angel’s voice
is the voice of God
telling us that,
in the end,
there is no end.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 39. I am torn open

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others. This is the penultimate poem of the cycle.

                39.

I am torn open,
The land is shaking;

mend me from my fears,
for all is quaking.

I look around me,
among the rubble of the place,
this is a community, this is home;
the people here have risen together here,
not all of us brilliant, rich or even nice,
but determined here to be,
united in this time and this space,
unwilling to accept defeat, to roam
aimless, beaten, to descend wholly into vice;
disasters help us to see.

The land is torn open,
the whole world is shaking;

save us from our fears,
for all is quaking.

I think of a King,
of three or more touched by Art,
plying their peculiar genius to some service,
uniting despite the challenges of time and division,
of places remembered, re-visioned, restored;
I hear a bell ring,
calling each of us to take some part,
in making or renewing bonds, soothing the nervous,
returning things to rights with care and precision,
finding and cherishing places we thought we’d explored.

We are all torn open,
all the buildings are shaking;

guide us from our fears,
while all is quaking.

We bury the dead,
but we cannot stop while others lie dying,
we must keep calm and carry on the healing,
finding new protocols, building better systems,
because we cannot go back;
it has all been said,
if we say we have not heard it, we are lying,
the life in our care is not for wanton stealing,
yet despite our miserable failures, still glistens,
with vitality even we cannot crack.

Our gates are torn open,
but all has stopped shaking;

Let us dry our tears,
and serve our remaking.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen 

Meditations in Fast Times: 38. We all walk this path

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                38.

We all walk this path,
The blood in our veins dances
As we follow the stars;
Each pattern is a math
Of blind schemes and chances,
Of discovery solely ours.

We seek the still,
Where at the still point
There might be peace
Within which to find will
To withstand all disappoint,
To accept a final cease.

Where have we been?
It is difficult to say;
Perhaps we are the place
Where there is no sin,
Only experience may
Mark our path and face.

We watch one we love
Ascend the final tree;
Sacrifice does not mar
The healing of the Dove,
It is here for all to see,
Being reconciled to the Star.

Freedom and release,
Both time and timeless,
Past and future join now,
Where the only timepiece,
Is being, explicitly ceaseless
—Only truth hangs from the bough.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 36. If you apply for this job

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                37.


                                      If you apply for this job,

Regardless of your qualifications, you are starting from nowhere,
In any moment of any day, in any season, for any reason.
It will always be like this: you will be put off, or if hired, it is a case of

We own you, now. You are not here to verify,

Instruct yourself, inform curiosity, be truly helpful

Or carry report. For minimum wage, you are here to kneel;
Our control of you has been made completely valid. And work is less

Than a reasoned order of protocol, the conscious occupation
Of the intelligent mind, or the skillfully measured speech.
With you, the dead are speechless; While living,

They could have warned you. Being dead, their frustration is

Sympathetically felt far beyond the language of the living.
Here, the timeless witness of the witless moment

Is everywhere and nowhere, never and always, endless.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 35. The Lord GOD set a seal

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                35.

The Lord GOD set a seal

Upon this, my trembling heart;

Beneath such healing hands, I feel

Compassion and love—the Healer's art

—Resolving this turmoil and tangle apart.

Healed from confusion back to ease
By the touch of this Master Nurse

Whose constant care is to bring release,

From those bitter dreams that threaten to curse,

And to insure our sickness not grow worse;

We realize the earth is our hospital,

Fostered by the careless billionaire,

Who would prefer it if we take ill and fall,

To succumb to an expensive paternal care

That persist in costing the highest fees anywhere.

Warmth ascends from feet to heart,

The healed soul, moved by gratitude, inspires
Those who seek better ways and art
Than what the billionaire’s business requires,

Adding to the ranks of the healthy by building tuneful choirs.

Wine, mixed with fresh water, to drink,

Organic produce and homemade bread for food,

In spite all we have been told to think,

We are more sound, and more enhanced is our mood
—But we are more aware now, how dis-ease is brewed.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Privacy Matters: Hot On the Trail of Ms. Gloria A—!

When my husband and I settled in the small community where we now live, we got new phone numbers. This was the year 1999, and cell phone usage was not as ubiquitous; most people still had landlines. We each got separate lines because my husband uses the phone much more than I do, and experience had already shown that I would end up being a de facto secretary.

I had already experienced many phone calls such as this: “Do you know where he is? I need to speak to him right now about…” Most of the time, I could not help such callers. Things improved a bit after he got a cell phone; at least I was able to call him to let him know someone needed to speak to him right now.

So, now that we were married and settled into our new home, we each had (and still have) our separate lines. We also have cell phones.

When we got our land lines, little did we know that my husband had actually signed up to be harassed by phone, daily.

The quarry is actually not my husband, but one Gloria A—, and her overdue account is quite old, being as, apparently, she had my husband’s number before my husband did.

The calls started coming in almost immediately. Messages were left on the answering machine. Call immediately to clear up this complaint!

My husband dutifully called the number. He explained to the person who answered the phone that he was the new owner of this phone number, was obviously not Gloria A—, and please stop calling.

The man on the other end of the line asked, “Do you know Gloria A—?”

“No,” my husband patiently answered, “we just moved here.”

The man then got surly, “Well, we have found that people who say they don’t know the people we are looking for really do know them.”

“This number may have been hers before, but we moved to this house and the phone company gave me this number; it is mine now.” My husband tried to reason.

The man persisted, “Can you tell me how to get in touch with Gloria A—?”

“Look,” my husband said, “I am telling you that I do not know Gloria A— and you don’t believe me. If I were to now suddenly say I know Gloria A—, would you believe me, then? This is my new phone number, and I have nothing to do with this. Please stop calling.”

And so it is that the calls have been coming regularly, between 9am and 10am, every morning. My husband tried several times to get this to stop, to no avail. So, we screen the calls and let the answering machine collect the useless messages.

Although the calls originally may have come from one company, they are now coming from another company. I’ll tell you the name of this company because they are quite notorious, and they will probably think of it as publicity: Debt Recovery Solutions. This company specializes in what are known as “zombie debts,” that is debts that have gone uncollected from other debt collection agencies. These other agencies have given up but, believe it or not, they sell these uncollectable accounts, rather like the old junk bonds the banks used to sell, to much more sleazy operations down the debt collection food chain.

Most often, “zombie debts” are old phone accounts, or book and music club accounts that went delinquent ages ago. And I mean, these debts are really old, quite often more than 8 years old. Many times, these are not even legitimate claims—the debt had either actually been paid and not properly posted, or was subsequently cleared, but the debt file still exists because it was sold to this other operation, having never been properly cleared up. These accounts are all beyond the statute of limitations.

Debt Recovery Solutions leaves at least one message on my husband’s answering machine, every day.  We have received messages from actual people, telling us to call a toll free 877 number. Sometimes, however, the message is a prerecorded one, saying “Hello, this call is about a debt collection. We need you to return this call immediately. If you are—” and here there is an abrupt cut in by different mechanical voice, “Gloria A—” which then cuts back to the original mechanical voice, “please press 1 now. If you are not,” cuts again, “Gloria A—” cut, “please press 2 now and stay on the line.”

Really?! If you were Gloria A—, would you accept such an invitation? And if you are not Gloria A—, but somehow foolish enough to press 2 and stay on the line, I wonder what will happen? I suspect you will just be signing yourself up to continue to be harangued by some abusive nitwit for years, because you obviously are in cahoots with Gloria A—. What I know for certain is that pressing 2 and staying on the line will not be a way to get them to stop calling you.

And, so the calls and messages have continued, even unto the present day.

At a certain point, the National Do Not Call Registry came into being (in 2004, after a court challenge), and we registered our numbers right away, thinking this might solve the problem. Unfortunately, this does not solve the problem. Collection agencies and Charities are still allowed to call any number they want. And I think that carpet cleaning companies are also somehow allowed, although they shouldn’t be; perhaps they are illegally registered as charities. But it doesn’t matter; the unwanted calls continue.

Debt Recovery Solutions is the end of the line for zombie debts, I suspect. They have managed to bully many people into paying them money that should not be paid to them. The hapless victims think this will get these bottom feeders off their backs. Unfortunately, nothing could be further from the truth, as you can see by doing a simple search on the web. Debt Recovery Solutions is a prize bully. Known for putting dings on credit ratings, this company cannot be reached with certified cease and desist letters, and you cannot fight them through the legal system, apparently.

Legally, you are entitled to at least $1000.00 if a case goes to court and you are innocent. But guess what? You will have to hire a lawyer, and guess what, there are tons of bottom feeding attorneys out there who specialize in this kind of litigation. (Perhaps these attorneys are actually clandestine employees of the debt collection agencies, themselves, and this whole racket is a system that is self-perpetuating.) And I have read, among the many consumer complaints I found online, that even if you can contact the company, bring them to court and prove your case, the dings stay on your credit record, are not removed. Somehow, the company cannot be compelled to clear things up. Seven years of bad credit luck ensues.

Where does this leave us, with regard to truth, justice and matters of privacy? The only conclusion one can come to is that There Is No Such Thing As Privacy and your life is irrevocably open to such unwanted intrusions. Companies like this are an untraceable menace, seeming to exist beyond the arms of a legal system that really doesn’t care to bother with protecting consumers from phone harassment.

My husband and I consider, from time to time, giving up the phone number. He mostly uses his smart phone now. We do get many calls on this landline, from people who have known us for a long time, from family, friends and neighbors. We have never met Gloria A—; as far as we know, she does not live in our community.

I think the reason we have kept this phone number, despite the continuing aggravation, is because we feel somehow protective of Gloria A—. This all might be over the last bill she was sent for the number that is now my husband’s. If she moved without a forwarding address, that bill would have gone into limbo. All of this bother could just be for a partial month’s phone bill from 1998.

The messages are left daily. We delete them from the answering machine.

After more than 15 years, they are still hot on your trail, Gloria A—! Watch out!

Meditations in Fast Times: 34. What is poetry

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                34.

What is poetry, if it does not save people?

Some of us mistook one condition for another:
that cultivation of an ars poetica
was actually cultivation of an ars vita;
in our defense, I speak for us
—we did so in good faith.

And now, we sit by the waters
as the ancients did,
by those waters of Babylon,
weeping, for all is burning.

All we can say in our defense,
‘twas all done in good faith,
but we have been captured,
we have all been captured,
nonetheless.

Is it any wonder that our hopes,
as if they were our children,
have been dashed upon the rocks?

The songs we wrote
were a poor case
of poets wanting an empire.

The wind sings through poplars,
for we are nothing of nothing,
laid low and expecting nothing.

Alone,
the wind carries forward
the memory of our intention,
and the heart.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 33. I was all things to all people

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                33.

I was all things to all people,
and the results are worthless.

The wisdom age and experience
reputedly should reveal
are merely self-deceptions,
vain peerings into the darkness
with eyes that are blind,
or rather, eyes never intended for seeing.

This generation preached itself,
offering empty ideas
and false prophets,
selling belief in things,
rather than teaching respect toward bodies;
our reward is a path to the mire.

However badly things have turned out,
we are not forsaken, now or ever,
in the sight of Divine Life
—an agreement can yet be struck;
by way of a humble confession,
a forsaking of guile and craft
for truth and honesty.

This is the way to freedom:
as badly as we have failed,
as poorly as we have behaved,
as ugly as we have made ourselves,
we are yet unfinished works,
and every bit of us
—every cell, every thought—
contains all the beauty of Life Itself,
if we would embrace that notion
as a truth and an inevitability.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 32. The middle

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                32.

The middle, I have found.

Here I am, in the middle way;
the twenty-five years of my exploring
not wasted, no, not at all, not ever,
not even when discoveries proved
to be dead ends;
for even dead ends show signs of life.

Here I am, in the middle way,
still l’entre deux guerres,
for that condition seems unchanged
—the barbarians, after all,
are a kind of solution
bullies fall back on
when they have no other reason
to incite, intrude or invade.

Here I am, in the middle way;
the tattered, folding maps
are giving up, their faded lines
were useful and lovingly explored;
such charts are no longer made:
people no longer travel but by turns and
the art of topography is all but forgotten.

Here I am, in the middle way;
from the beginning to each far place,
I met beauty, I met goodness and joy,
and when I returned, here I found the same,
although there was no sameness
to the varieties of expression
—every place has flavorful salt.

Here I am, in the middle way;
this unusual place, difficult to find
because it is overgrown and untended,
seems deserted and lonely,
though birds and other creatures
do make their homes here,
among the low hanging tree branches.

Here I am, in the middle way;
this is possibly the road least traveled,
by my reckoning, though many
say they know how to find it
—interest in being here has dwindled;
polarization seems preferable, somehow,
or at least more socially popular.

The middle, I have found,
and I shall not stop exploring
the intricacies of its beauty,
the subtleties of its forms,
the art by which it cultivates me
—In the scheme of things,
I arrive, in the middle, a beginner.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 31. Night watch is always happening

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                31.

Night watch is always happening
in the garden of the soul, where
one always worries that the torch will burn out,
in the strain of that very darkest hour,
before the horizon’s eyelids begin to flutter.

Wondering, wondering,
while restlessly wandering in the dark night,
one constantly wonders about choices,
trying to learn from the uses of choice,
to remember the successes and the failures.

The random thought occurs
that past choices might be woven together
into an enchantment that could conjure or cure,
but the song of the soul gently urges against such folly;
though all time may well be the same,
each moment presents itself differently
to the individual.

Those laws of time that truly exist
lie outside our perception;
these were not carved in stone,
but lovingly touched into living flesh,
softly blown into each wisdom eye,
that the quandary of possibility
might be met flexibly
in each moment of our journey.

No challenge can be answered
with stone tablet thinking;
all answers must be driven
by the informed and intuitive heart.

Waking from the night watch,
of wonder, dreaming and prayer,
is to greet the day of our challenge
with the faith of best intention,
rising with the resolve to act,
in the assurance that our effort
will be met, as befits the need.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen