Aspects of Peace

One aspect of Peace

is a dark and cloudy day on the Harbour,

with the fog not quite hiding

a glimpse of Eternity

just beyond the Mackerel Islands,

with the chilling westerly breeze

seducing the pines with a whisper.

One aspect of Peace

is the bird tracks

across the lap of the Buddha

sitting in my south garden,

and the scattering of sunflower seed husks

creating a winter Rorschach

on the snow beneath the feeder.

One aspect of Peace

is the persistence of my beagle

reminding me that it is time...

time to walk, time to explore,

time to revel in the magical world

where time and illusion are suspended,

and we walk in the underlying Reality.

One aspect of Peace

is the knowledge that,

in a Universe of infinite possibilities,

all outcomes are available,

and sometimes it takes

the determination of my dog

to sense the Path through Now.

Viewpoint

From the nexus
of multiple realities
each of us surveys
our own unique universe.

Compassion softens intersections,
while ignorance crystallises
fault lines
that shatter Cosmic balance.

Brahman’s Blink

Once upon a time-space continuum
an illusory universe flickered briefly
into existence.
In a distant corner of that illusion
there was a small blue-green planet
onto which evolved a life-form
that thought of themselves
as the centre of that universe.

Simultaneously, and separated
only by a mathematical concept,
endless other universes existed,
in which infinite illusory probabilities
played their variations
on a cosmic theme.

On the small blue-green planet
people invented gods
that gave power and control to some,
and death and servitude to others.
The various gods demanded exclusivity,
and abhorred tolerance,
preferring instead
sacrifice, obedience,
blind acceptance, and, often,
death.

Death was eagerly embraced,
and seen as an entry
to the magical kingdoms
of the multitudinous gods:
rewards for the faithful.

The history of the god inventors
was filled with strife,
with war and persecution,
with demonising of others,
with marginalising of many,
with famine in the midst of plenty,
with hardship for billions,
while thousands lived
a fantasy of obscene luxury.
A few controlled,
while the mass bowed servile heads.

One day Brahman blinked a cosmic blink,
and our illusion brushed against
one of the countless others,
and everything changed,
as Reality dawned
in a better Now.

A Senior’s Moment

Not the cane,
nor the shuffling gait;
not forgetting the day,
and often the date;
not the glasses,
nor my dimming sight;
not those dreadful times
when memory takes flight:
     these are not me.

Not the prostate,
too large for too long;
not forgetting the name
to my favourite song;
not missing the words
that my loved one says;
not the memories that crowd
from younger days:
     these are not me.

Not the wistful smile
upon seeing my reflection;
nor the amount of time I spend
on deep introspection;
not the sensitivity
to every new ache and pain;
nor the knowledge that
I’d do it all again:
     these are not me.

The real me is witty,
and alert, and bright;
that me can always find
the word that’s just right.
That me could converse,
and could dance all night long;
and knew the words
to every song:
     I remember me well.

So I go on aging,
day after day,
and sometimes forget
what I’m trying to say;
but that’s really not me,
for deep down inside
another me enjoys life
with eyes open wide:
     that’s who I am.

Diminished Responsibility

Her pregnancy, only minutes from term,
gave her the look of a tumbleweed
as she stumbled
through killing December cold.
Sally Ann band on windswept corner
marked the passage of one whose experience
was the cosmic opposite of their celestial joy:
''...crib for His bed
the little Lord..."

With labour pains almost constant
she turned into the alley,
sheltering in the shadow of
a green dumpster, which exhorted
a more affluent society to
"Keep our City Clean."
She squatted as her water broke,
and cursed her most recent companion
for throwing her out
when her condition
invalidated her use to him.
She blasted her last two rocks
in the lifeline of her pipe,
and suddenly
“God!”
it was done.

The investigative team
discovered the icy creche
near the area where
the Paras had found her,
collapsed,
in the street.
The rookie swore
when he opened
the dumpster,
quick tears freezing
on his cheeks,
while in the distance,
the Army concluded their ministry
with "O Holy Night."

The Christmas Tree Box

We have a plywood box that we had made in Abu Dhabi in 1984.  We use for storing our artificial tree purchased at Eaton's West Mall, Nepean, in 1983. We used the box (about 4 ft x 2 1/2 x 2 1/2 ft) to take with us in our 15 ft Piranha boat. We had a sponge cushion made so the box could act as a seat. When we left Abu Dhabi for Guyana, we packed our tree in the boat box.
Our tree had a home that lasted until this moment.
We unpacked the tree in Guyana in 1986, 87, and 88.
Dublin was home for two unpackings, in 1989 and 1990.
1991, 1992, 1993 saw the tree unpacked at our house on Orchid Lane, Diego Martin, Port of Spain.
1994 and 1995 saw the festivities at Craig Henry, Nepean.
1996, 1997, 1998, saw the tree unpacked in New Delhi. First at D7/9 Vasant Vihar, then in SQ D2 on the Canadian High Commission compound on Shantipath.
1999 and onwards sees our tree well set in its routine of jumping into the box after the Season is over, and resting quietly, while it thinks of distant Christmases, departed friends and family, and loved ones and family around the world.

Our tree doesn't dream of the baby Jesus, nor choirs of angels.
Our tree doesn't dream of little match girls, or snowmen flying through the air.
Our tree dreams a strong and powerful dream of Peace, and each year when we unpack that tree, Peace prevails throughout Greyhavens.

Incidental Travellers

Cherry Coke at the Fountain:
Late 1950s in Elliott Lake:
Everly Brothers, Bobby Darin,
lots of do wop, but Buddy Holly too.
....and then SNAP
back to a senior me,
stopped in the aisle of Sobey’s,
wondering,
“What?”

An elderly lady with permed grey curls,
cane nearby: waiting for her eye appointment,
mourning her diminishing vision,
.....then SNAP
Magic weekend at the cottage:
Kitty Wells, and “Amigo’s Guitar”
Moonglow and Theme from Picnic:
the lake, the moon...
“What?”

Quiet veteran, at the Mall
looking at blazers,
caught in a pause
by the intensity of remembered moments,
...and SNAP
Songs in the mess, with friends
who would die for you:
dances at the Palace
with girls who thought you looked
a bit like Cary Grant...
“What?”

Serendipitous travellers all,
caught by age
on the brink of the unknown,
overwhelmed often,
and suddenly,
by the glory of who we were:
we are stunned by the speed
we became who we are...
...SNAP...”What?”

Quantum Enlightenment: First Meeting

I am Me,
centred in a Reality that I observe.
...and...
You are You,
the centre of your observation
of Reality.

In different Illusions:
saint and slave, hero and coward,
sage and fool, sensei and saddhu,
lover and pariah, soldier and teacher,
     enlightened
     damned

But for me to predict,
  based upon the Now
   of our shared illusion,
just what I will become to you,
   would be precipitous...
observation affects outcome.

Then Came the Revolution

We have a troubled history
of repression, greed, and pain,
but never seem to learn from it,
so it happens yet again.

A church of greed and privilege,
as Martin Luther learned,
had no place in his belief,
and a mighty tide had turned.
     Then came the Revolution
     and a righteous fire burned.

“No taxation without representation”
became the order of the day,
as Americans rebelled,
dumping taxed tea in the bay.
     Then came the Revolution,
     and Empire passed away.

“Liberté, égalité, fraternité”
chanted the French masses,
tired of seeing ever more
aristocratic excesses.
     Then came the Revolution,
     and Louis’ power passes.

In October, on the Neva,
the Romanovs were swept away,
and the mighty Winter palace
was bloodstained on that day.
     Then came the Revolution
     to herald Communism’s day.

When Mao finished his Long March,
and Chiang was forced to flee,
the Chinese people waited
to see what now would be.
     Then came the Revolution,
     but still they are not free.

South Africa’s apartheid,
the crash of Berlin’s Wall,
the bloodshed of the Arab Spring,
strong lessons to us all:
     When comes the Revolution
     we all must heed the call.

Corporations tell us now
we must all spend and borrow;
and hired politicians lie,
and steal, and feign deep sorrow.
     Now comes the Revolution:
     it’s happening tomorrow!

           * * *
We have a troubled history
of repression, greed, and pain,
but never seem to learn from it,
so it happens yet again.

Temporal Reflections on Several Levels

“Because You are unlimited, neither the lords of heaven nor even You Yourself can ever reach the end of Your glories. The countless universes, each enveloped in its shell, are compelled by the wheel of time to wander within You, like particles of dust blowing about in the sky.” (Bhagavata Purana 10.87.41)

Temporal Reflections on Several Levels

Cops and robbers, Lash Larue,
Blind Man’s Bluff and Little Lulu,
Saturday matinees, and Gabby Hayes,
Gillies Lake on hot summer days:
childhood memories swirling down,
like autumn leaves fall to the ground.

Bright foliage from my tree of life,
leaves of joy, of pain, of strife;
the luscious fruits of autumn nights,
and hide-‘n’-seek neath dim street lights;
October days at Charlebois Lake,
fishing for pike, and bass, and splake.

In the many worlds within my mind
limitless stories and pathways wind,
and who is to say when each story is through,
when each act completed, if each word true?
      Past many Realities our Dharma may wend,
      for the Dance of Natraj is without end.