Monday, February 20, 2017

freedom's star and love's rain.

in loving memory: Swami Shyam 1923-2017.

only along these hallowed hallways
of forms imagined in absence of candlelight
can Shyam recall with all relief
the brilliance of his own
and be ever after the benefactor of more bounty
than the fiercest pirate could have ever known
to roam with freedoms star at his back
amidst a celebration of fears flight

only within this structure
narrow and changing
along illusions foyer of time and space
can he watch himself lose its confines to reflect
upon being ever the recipient of more richness
than the shrewdest entrepreneur could’ve ever hoped to collect
to drift aimfully with loves driving rain at his chest
towards an awesome and humbling grace

only along these stairways of creativity
designed for joy and sorrows conclusion
can the very lord of the estate
enjoy the climbing
to look out upon garden and stream
a panoramic vision to the corners of a kingdom
more grand and expansive
than the greatest conquerors unfulfilled dream

to gaze forever undisturbed
with freedoms star and loves rain as his comrades against delusion
to walk forever undisturbed
with freedoms sparkling star and loves driving rain
as company in Shyam's eternal seclusion.

Thursday, February 2, 2017

an inconvenient truth.


"when i wake in the morning, as long as i don't smell flowers or see any candles i'll get up." red skelton.

it's a mixed group at the gym i go to: you've got young and old all mixed up together. that's part of its charm, i suppose, and i wouldn't want it any other way. nevertheless, it can be a challenge at times, like when that twelve-year-old kid last week beat me on the basketball court or, like yesterday, when i walked into the change-room just in time to see a really old man blow-drying his genitals.

i'm not stuck in-between the two extremes. i'm closer to the old guy giving himself a blow-job than the young bball phenom. like, after playing some pretty average bball yesterday i was ready to take a shower, but for a couple of moments i could't find my towel. then one of the young studs there pointed out that i had it wrapped around my waist. oh they thought that was soooo funny, laughing snd laughing as i muttered: 'it's all down-hill from here,' on my way to the showers.

i was mugged once in the byward market: january 14th, 2000, 6:15 at night to be exact. after living in mexico for a couple of years, travelling all 'round the world and living twenty-five years in india, i got mugged in ottawa. go figger. i did alright considering it was three against one. but, at a certain point i got clubbed from behind and passed out. the point of all this is that, as i was losing consciousness, my only thought was: 'oh, i'm going into meditation now.' it was quite comforting really. i was familiar with that state of consciousness, even like it, even love it. i don't know what it is. but, it aint scary.

i marvel at the stoic nature with which we humans often face the certainty of death, the end of life as we know it. "death is not the extinguishing of light," ravindranath tagore once wrote so eloquently. "it is only the putting out of the lamp because the dawn has come." tecumseh said: "when it comes your time to die, sing your death song and die like a hero going home." what is that home? i don't know. i don't know. but, my hope is that it's got a hair-blower, cause i'm probably gonna want one.