Wrong
Wrong way
error
false step
mistake
how to correct?
fix?
transform?
Where to go in this
the poor choice
Wrong way
error
false step
mistake
how to correct?
fix?
transform?
Where to go in this
the poor choice
I can’t get past it, the spot I’m in.
I can’t lose it, the drag that’s got me.
I can’t undo it, the catch that’s rolled me.
Who’s gonna help you now?
Who’s got your back in this here time?
I can’t shake it off, the hurt that runs through.
I can’t run it off, the scream blaring out.
I can’t call it off, the drip that’s done.
Where you turn your face?
We all know you can’t keep the pace.
Hey, honey child, come on now, come on.
I ain’t gonna hurt nobody.
Lord knows I got enough on my mind
without making me more.
I can’t carry this forever.
How long I been sayin that?
I can’t keep this up always.
How long I said that?
It don’t matter.
Walk down the street.
Talk into the dark.
Walk in the warm wet air.
Tell it all the ricochets.
Repeat; twenty years pass.
This has to change
And so on.
Doesn’t fix it.
The papers have fallen onto the floor
they are scattered everywhere
the binders are flopped open
and have spilled millions of pages
fanning out all over the sidewalk
street little gardens around the trees
oh dear
oh my dear
What to do?
[Editor’s Note: This essay is included in “First Essays”, available for sale (or free — write us at Editor@PureLoveShop.com and we’ll email you a copy) on the Buy Our Books! tab of this blog.]
Yes! Finally! A nice, safe fun war
Remember all those wars where everyone ends up bloody stumps lying in the cold mud or burning sand or, if lucky, the cool springtime grass, gurgling vagueries to the twittering skies? Do you remember the bombs that fall, the cities that burn, the people evaporating at the center and melting on the edges?
So what a great idea Brother Bear’s proposed! Now here’s a place for US American know-how, can-do, and go-get-em to shine bright and pleasant as a laughing spring day of fresh air, light-tunneling streams and limegreen leaf-underbellies flipped up by tickling breezes, soaking in and giggling out a broad clear sunshine!
All we have to do this time is figure out how to make voting machines secure, catch false news, and train every red-blooded American in the fine art of critically considering all ideas. How we’ll investigate and pick apart not just ads, but also conjectures, pop-off comments, well-argued but not necessarily therefore actually-reasonable soliloquies, imagery, everything! And one more tool to complete our victory: if fake news seeks to divide us, what better weapon have we but to unite? What better way to deny an attack on collective goodwill than building up the mighty arsenal of togetherness, of shared sympathies and joys, of love between all of God’s creation?
Step down, if you would be so kind, to a little lower layer*. Eye in eye here in the dark, in this old wood hold of an ancient wooden ship**. Here we’ve the privacy and salty old-oak odor conducive to confidential, earnest discussion.
Now, what if I were to tell you that this time the Russians weren’t our enemies?
You heard that right!
Those members of the Russian government seeking to unbalance and discredit our democracy with fake news and the real or merely-believed corruption of our elections: these are our enemies.
No, not so fast. Not even them!
Those elements within human beings that would live in this mean-spirited way, that would guide their overall selves to behave in this way and to take these steps: these are our enemies. Our enemy is bad-will, the desire to hurt, to maim, and the mindsets and efforts born of these spiritual errors.
We people always dream of holy wars, and now we have one. Oh happy day! The battle for the soul of the nation and the world is here clear as day! Liberal democracies win when clear-eyed, honest, kind thoughtful community wins. Can we answer this cruel, this sour-hearted salvo with clear, honest, careful, loving thinking, feeling, living, acting? Can we make lemonade? I think we can. I think we should.
Then, as we apply our love of good machines, good systems, good thinking, and shared joy to defeat those strange foolish desperate tugs within the human heart — those evil flinches that desire power more than Goodness — , as we fight the good fight against the efforts of foreign bodies to damage our democracy, we will be fighting not just outside invaders, but also corruptions within our own system and culture, even within our own hearts.
Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy! A neat war. A fun war. The nukes are still piled up and the intrigues yet swirl like feathery shadows on all sides; the war against imaginable horrors never ends for us vulnerable little humanthings. So we should be grateful for this provocation, this inspiration to be more proactive, to fight for what is on the whole still a really wonderful set of possibilities before it is too late, before our own greeds and bitternesses and powerlustvaunts and thoughtlessnesses steal away our own beauty. The power-grab at our hearts/minds/souls by marketers and other psyche-manipulators has been going on for some time, but now the very weapon we’ve used to sucker ourselves out of money, health, community, and wisdom has been turned against us by a foreign government in a clear attempt to break our collective back: surely a sufficient wake-up call!
Let us take our stand here, so that together the Goodness within all human hearts will win and those aspects of human hearts and minds that feed and breed in rancor, meanness, greed, selfish indifference and all such snippy mean small-minded screams will have less and less resources, less and less inspiration, less and less fuel, less and less to say and do. In this way we humans can focus more and more on creation, exploration, sharing kind joy. Why not? We’ve done enough of the other stuff.
Oh happy day!
Signed,
Rick Assessment
Chief WAP Military Strategist
[From an early-2018 memo]
Author: BW
Editor: AW
[Editor’s Notes:
*a little lower layer:
See Herman Melville’s Moby Dick (Chapter 36: The Quarter Deck)
**eye in eye:
See the same book, but Chapter 132: The Symphony]
[Editor’s Note: This essay is included in “First Essays”, available for sale (or free — write us at Editor@PureLoveShop.com and we’ll email you a copy) on the Buy Our Books! tab of this blog.]
Copyright: AM Watson
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Act I, Scene 3
On campus
Joe: Hey, how’s the genius?
John: She’s good. How are you?
Joe: Oh, you know.
John: It’s your fault.
Joe: Oh, I know.
John: You going to the game?
Joe: No. Why?
John: I’m going.
Joe: You, why?
John: I joined the team.
Joe: You, why?
John: I’m a great player.
Joe: Yea, but I thought you’d outgrown all that. You have your future to think of, and it’s not playing.
John: I’m fast, agile, and strong.
Joe: But those things don’t matter in the real world. I mean, you’re not going pro, and even if you were, it wouldn’t lead anywhere useful.
John: I can think with my body and have a sixth sense about where the ball is going.
Joe: No one cares, and you may end up with a serious injury that debilitates you for the rest of your life.
John: I thought you might like to see me in action. My family’s coming.
Joe: I’ll come, but I don’t like it. It makes no sense. You should concentrate on your studies.
John: I can do both.
Joe: Not completely.
John: Look–just be a pal and show, OK?
Joe: You know I will!
John: Thanks.
Joe: Unless you take my advice and quit this nonsense. In which case, we can go out for pizza instead–my treat.
John: Pizza and wine?
Joe: Whatever will save your brain.
John: OK.
Joe: Really?
John: Totally.
Joe: So you’ll quit the squad?
John: No, but I’ll show you why I don’t need to.
Take it easy, everybody,
Take it easy, is what I say.
Take it easy, everybody,
The lightning’s gone away.
Take it easy, all us servants
Take it easy is what I pray
Take it easy, that’s my sense.
But what’s a judgement day?
Never mind.
It will work itself out
Back inside the pause.
Please God of my understanding,
help me better understand You,
who surpass my understanding.
I’d rather live for Light than a discombobulated jangled shriek.
Attempt 2
Sure, this my soul of mine does honest speak!
If this my heart in me could only feel
And this my mind might follow close and clear,
how much my soul divine to me would teach!
Alas trod I an over-shadowed path,
far long from joyful discipline’s rich fruits!
So stupid pride in lazy impulse-field
my life divine does shapeless waste away.
What to do?
What, oh what to do?
of God and Good, of friendship without end
Attempt 1
In this my heart of mine where stepping from
the angels robed by shining Light declare
yet all be well as all is one so none
shall slip beneath great God’s whole tender care.
!Up speak my soul! as wind blown ghosts in sheets
more white than desert bone snort chortle shriek,
mock heaven, joy and discipline with bleats.
!Up speak my soul! to lift me when I’m weak.
How kind is God? How wide the realm divine?
Your children decked out dress-up seek a sign
in marble halls by whisper jungle stream
our silly fingers stretch when fool’s gold gleams.
“Die Weise von Liebe und Tod des Cornets Christoph Rilke” ist eine kurze dichterische Geschichte von Rainer Marie Rilke in 1899 geschrieben. Sie handelt sich von einem jungen Cornet (der niedrigste Rang der Kavallerie), der mit achtzehn in Ungarn im Schlacht gefallen ist.
RM Rilke wurde von einem Dokument im Besitz seines Onkels inspiriert:
»… den 24. November 1663 wurde Otto von Rilke / auf Langenau / Gränitz und Ziegra / zu Linda mit seines in Ungarn gefallenen Bruders Christoph hinterlassenem Anteile am Gute Linda beliehen; doch mußte er einen Revers ausstellen / nach welchem die Lehensreichung null und nichtig sein sollte / im Falle sein Bruder Christoph (der nach beigebrachtem Totenschein als Cornet in der Kompagnie des Freiherrn von Pirovano des kaiserl. österr. Heysterschen Regiments zu Roß …. verstorben war) zurückkehrt …«
Die Geschichte geht schnell vorbei. Man sieht/fühlt, wie im Traum, mehrere flaumige Szenen:
Sie reiten zusammen ans Heer: das Reiten unter schwerer Sonne fährt unendlich fort ohne einen Tapetenwechsel; Ein Marquis, nach Tagen vom Geschwätz, hat kein Wort mehr und welkt im Sattel–bis eine zart-lustige Bemerkung von dem von Langenau (Christoph Rilke–der Held des Stücks) ihn wiederermuntert; ein Deutscher beschreibt seine Mutter, und alle verstehen, auch wenn sie seine Sprache nicht können; sie werden eng, diese Männer aus verschiedenen europäischen Ländern; die dunklen Haare des Marquis dehnen sich frauenhaft, und in der Ferne sieht der von Langenau eine Madonna–bemerkt es aber nur nachher; sie sitzen erschöpft ums Wachtfeuer, und der von Langenau, der nicht schlaffen will, sieht den Marquis, als er eine Rose küsst: “Ich habe keine Rose, keine”, denkt er; denn singt der von Langenau ein trauriges Lied; ein kleines Gespräch: der Marquis hat eine Frau zu Hause–blonde wie der von Langenau—, und er reitet durch diesen giftigen Land den türkischen Hunden entgegen um wiederzukehren, und der von Langenau denkt an ein blondes Mädchen bei der er sich entschuldigen will; das Heer ist erreicht, sie trennen sich widerwillig, der Marquis akzeptiert ein Blatt der Rose und schiebt das fremde Blatt unter den Waffenrock; im Troß zerreißen die Knechte der Dirnen die Kleider; der von Langenau verneigt sich in einer Wolke Staub vor dem General Spork, aber dem Spork–der spricht ohne seine Lippen zu bewegen–ist seines Briefes der Einführung egal; der von Langenau reitet allein auf die Kompagnie, die jenseits der Raab (ein Fluss in Ungarn) liegt, und ist aus seinen Träumen gerissen: etwas schreit ihn an, und dann abhaut er die blutige Leiche einer jungen Frau vom Baum; Christoph schreibt einen Brief an seiner Mutter (“Seid stolz: ich trage die Fahne”) und steckt ihn neben das Rosenblatt (“vielleicht findet ihn einmal Einer”); sie reiten über einen erschlagenen Bauern, der Schloss ragt, sie sind vor den Toren und reiten hinein; endlich Rast, endlich Gast sein, sicher fühlen, in seidenen Sesseln unsoldatisch sich entspannen, und wieder erst lernen was Frauen sind; ein Fest steigt auf und dann ein Tanz und alle alle riß er hin; Frauen die man nur im Schlafe sieht: du träumst davon sie zu verdienen; er fühlt sich verfremdet wie im Traum: “Bist du die Nacht?” zu einer Frau, die lächelt, und er schämt sich für sein weißes Kleid; die Gräfin verführt ihn (“Dein weißes Kleid gibt mir Dein Recht”); “Langsam lischt das Schloß aus. Alle sind schwer: müde oder verliebt oder trunken”; sie finden einander und sich selbst im Dunkel; seine Kriegsgüter hängen über einem Sessel im Vorsaal; Brand leuchtet der Schloss und alle sammeln als die Trommeln beben; aber wo ist der Cornet und seine Fahne??; er läuft durch den brennenden Hallen und dann trägt er die Fahne er helmlos fern voran, die niemals so königlich war; “da brennt ihre Fahne mitten im Feind und sie jagen ihr nach”; allein tief im Feind, wirft er sein Pferd der heidnischen mitten hinein, und sechzehn runden Saebel springen auf ihn: eine lachende Wasserkunst; “Der Waffenrock ist im Schlosse verbrannt, der Brief und das Rosenblatt einer fremden Frau”; im nächsten Frühjahr sieht ein Kurier des Freiherrn von Pirovano in Langenau eine alte Frau weinen.
About the Short Story Game: The idea is to read classic short stories, outline and analyze them, and then write a story response.
Author & Editor: What Ever
Copyright: Andrew Mackenzie Watson 2017, all rights reserved. Please do not reproduce the content of this website without written consent of the copyright holder.
What is love?
What kind of joy
I’m searching at
What kindness will
bring me there?
Who is around,
What is within,
The angels they
Cannot say.
A cold fogs in,
settles down
Mists on out.
Sunlight shouts
Through our haze,
beach burns clear
Water sparkles
impossibly,
lapping happy
Skipping free
from side to side.
I’m just a man,
I’m but a boy,
I’d be a friend
I ask your heart:
speak now with me,
Sing for us please
Tell us all please
Where we could stay.
We cry like gulls
Adrift on a draft
Held up aloft
Caught in the sky
Waiting to see
What is right
For you and me.
AMW/BW
Ich lebe einfach so, nicht weit entfernt des Parks.
Alles is so ungefahr akzeptabel. Ich kann nicht klagen.
Als ich jung war spazierte ich gern den Bach entlang.
Mit dreizehn durfte ich mit meinem Fahrrad den Grossen See besuchen.
Ich fahrte Rad an kurvigen Wegen vierzig Fussen ueber Lake Erie.
Zwei Fusse links und stuertzte ich vom Kliff herunter.
So eine Risiko wuerde ich jetzt nicht gern akzeptieren.
Damals aber bemerkte ich den Gefahr nur beilaeufig.
Deine Zauber binden wieder
was die Mode streng verteilt.
Wir zerstreut verflossene Kinder
die Dein Gunst flehend suchen
leben weiter im Nebel munter
hinter gluehenden Scheinwerfern
mitten deiner regnischen Naechten.
Ich und dich und alles
was dazwischen gafft und lacht
was die Nacht uebereinsamwacht
was uns hebt und schnell vergisst
AMW/BW
I once overheard some desperate wag declare, “Der Wille zum System ist ein Mangel an Rechtschaffenheit.” [“The will to a system is a lack of integrity!”]
What was he talking about? What is a philosophical system? Why is creating or supporting or using them reprehensible? What was he talking about?
A philosophical system is a framework that explains everything essential: what can be known, what is true, how you should live. It is a complete philosophy. And you can put it on like you’d put on a religion. You can wear it. It has grooves into which you can slide your intellectual and emotional thoughts, and it also has an interface with both perceptions and Reality (assuming the system believes in a Reality). So it allows your ideas and feelings to relate adequately to themselves, each other, your daily experience, and (sometimes at least) Reality.
The problem with philosophical systems is that they are just built of ideas, but human life is ideas, feelings, vague notions, and whatever-all-else. So how can a human being expect a contraption made entirely of ideas to adequately answer the questions of his or her life? Also, intellectual ideas cannot prove or disprove their own ultimate viability and/or meaningfulness. So why would you trust a fortress of intellectual ideas to keep you safe and bring you to whole-being victory?
And yet, and yet. Friends, friends, what if we calm down? What if we don’t wear philosophical systems too tightly? What if we just put them on to try a new perspective, to help guide our thinking towards better ways to address our fundamental longing to know what is going on and what should be done about it? What if we just calm the fuck down?
Certainly, a philosophical system will never be literally True, nor ever completely inhabitable/livable by human beings.
However, while a human will never fit completely within a philosophical system — and what a nauseating limit, what a tragedy if a human could fit into a set of ideas! —, systems can help us coherently organize ourselves.
One must merely remember that the intellect’s not all we are: each human conscious moment contains feelings (including both emotions and sense-perceptions), ideas, senses-of-things (prior to ideas and feelings: ur-ideas and ur-feelings together, before differentiating into ideas and feelings; for example the inner sense that eventually gets estimated up into concepts like “what I say and do matters”; another word for “senses-of-things” might be “vague notions”), and — if the song within the storm is correct — most fundamentally a Something Deeper (aka: God, the Light within, etc — we’re poetically pointing through concepts towards what is ultimately prior to concepts) that alone knows what is really going on, what really matters, and what we should actually do. And it is an intellectually unproven and unprovable intellectual prejudice that these various aspects cannot interact meaningfully with one another, with thought-tools like language, and with other human beings. [there’s some translation required to translate, for example, feelings into ideas; and all translations are imperfect; but “imperfect” does not necessarily mean “inadequate”.]
Philosophical systems like those sketched in Plato’s Republic or the Buddha’s teachings can — so long as we don’t lose sight of the fact that human conceptual structures can only be imperfect ladders and platforms in one’s climb to more and more insight into and reliance upon the Truth within — help people organize their conscious moments around the Truth.
One can benefit from trying on, for example, the general sketch of living gently and peaceably while simultaneously reaching for and seeking to flow out of the Form of the Good at one’s center (the “Form of the Good” is here another poetic formulation for that Light within which alone is wise enough to adequately advise your thought as a whole). Playing within such a intellectual/emotional/spiritual framework — presuming you don’t forget it is just a human construct and not itself the Truth (aka: the Form of the Good; aka: God) — help you organize your thought-as-a-whole better and better.
Philosophy is always like Descarte’s “Meditations” in this regard: one person tries to intellectually think-through hisorher own experience of fundamental questions about knowledge, reality, meaning, and morality (ie: formulate a coherent intellectual response to them), and then invites others to try the logic on: to see how it fits their own experiences and thinking-throughs. Even if a philosophy doesn’t spell out a system for understanding reality, it presumes a system: people always do — we always carry within our assumptions more fundamental ones about how to take in, organize, analyze, and evaluate information. So a blatant philosophical system is actually more forthcoming than much philosophical thinking: it takes great pains to tell the reader where it is coming from.
Clutching systems too tightly is indeed destructive, as trying to turn mere human ideas into eternal Truths must be; but humans need some intellectual beliefs to keep their intellects grounded and coherent, and we in any case cannot help but trust some general heuristics for how one should approach life (aka: systems) and we cannot help but believe some things (indeed radical skepticism—supposing that you need to disbelieve everything—is, self-defeatingly, both a system and belief).
So enjoy creating and using philosophical systems! Don’t clutch them too tightly, but that goes for all merely human constructs. We are merely humans, so we need to build and use merely human constructs, but our Good cannot be contained within them, because the do not adequately understand and respond to Love.
Authors: Sommerset Gone and B Willard
Copyright: AMW and Andy Watson