When those geese fly home at night
to sleep as we do in the wilderness
Wild yet sane, safe in an unsafe life
we make ready our slumber together.
When wild geese fly home at night
after a hard day's work on the shores of time
Being chased by wolves all day who prey at their living very seriously...
When wild geese fly home at night
Over our tents in bright delight
they sing songs in rhythmic cadences
flying choruses --- acapella
they fly as-only-they-can-fly.
Yet flinging solo it's through the air waves
No less than Lester's, Young their voices swung!
Like Bird they sing. Dizzy with Miles to bring Home waiting in their wings the willingness to punctuate that evening sun with soulful freedom.
That's wild percussively wild, Monk wild Man, woman, child!
And now to beaver's pond they fade
where softer grasses in those lovely meadows cling
With love to be at rest with those loving them singing a silent encore: "Once more once'!
Only their fairy shadows dancing to
A time that is all eternity.
-Johnson Hartman
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
A Prayer for Today
Dear Heavenly Father
Help me.
Every day. All day show me Your grace.
Help me to find You.
Help me to cool my temper that I may know your warmth.
Help me to still my tongue that I may Know your Will eternal.
And do Your Will with Joy.
Give me Father your life divine…
That I may enjoy every moment of every day as one beacon of your Everlasting Light.
Give me the strength to resist all temptations which attempt to put asunder Your eternal Love, that I may in turn Love.
Help me Father in Every Way that I may know continuity.
Increase me that I may Know You.
Amen
Help me.
Every day. All day show me Your grace.
Help me to find You.
Help me to cool my temper that I may know your warmth.
Help me to still my tongue that I may Know your Will eternal.
And do Your Will with Joy.
Give me Father your life divine…
That I may enjoy every moment of every day as one beacon of your Everlasting Light.
Give me the strength to resist all temptations which attempt to put asunder Your eternal Love, that I may in turn Love.
Help me Father in Every Way that I may know continuity.
Increase me that I may Know You.
Amen
Friday, February 12, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
The Wayward Revolution
Re IMAGINE (see post below)
Sounds like the Revolution that has never been given a chance. Always seems to get strong armed by the Human psyche and the ego's need to neutralize fear of death with meaningless material consumption. Time to return to simplicity and Love!
Peace and Justice go hand in hand.
We miss your remarkable insight and panache here in Nelson.
All the best in 2010 Harry! Anon, Nelson, B.C.
Sounds like the Revolution that has never been given a chance. Always seems to get strong armed by the Human psyche and the ego's need to neutralize fear of death with meaningless material consumption. Time to return to simplicity and Love!
Peace and Justice go hand in hand.
We miss your remarkable insight and panache here in Nelson.
All the best in 2010 Harry! Anon, Nelson, B.C.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
IMAGINE
How easily.
No mortgages. No rent. No luxuries.
Peace for all... to live free on this God-given earth.
And then let us tend our gardens in communities of a love well-spoken, world-wide.
Take the masks off the 'economists' and return our immediate environment to a blessed health.
All creatures will rejoice.
It is possible. It is necessary. It is a matter of will.
Now that you know this, God need not intervene.
No mortgages. No rent. No luxuries.
Peace for all... to live free on this God-given earth.
And then let us tend our gardens in communities of a love well-spoken, world-wide.
Take the masks off the 'economists' and return our immediate environment to a blessed health.
All creatures will rejoice.
It is possible. It is necessary. It is a matter of will.
Now that you know this, God need not intervene.
Monday, December 07, 2009
Dark Days and Hopeful Thoughts
Recently, there were front covers of interest. Appearing in the common media was front page of The Vancouver Sun showcasing all the logos of the local biker gangs. Rather than printing the names of their nefarious money-laundering businesses the editor chose to glorify their logos. My neighbour asked me for a copy of that front page because he thought they were so cool. He’s 50 years old and dying of lung cancer but he sure found those logos to be hip. Thank you Vancouver Sun for your usual gutlessness and sensationalizing stupidity.
Then the Vancouver Courier splashed a cover of a Harry Potter book on their front page promoting book-buying in the city. Thank you editor for ignoring all the independent authors right here in Vancouver and giving that author another unnecessary boost.
Yawn and yawn.
BIKES, SCOOTERS AND COWS ON THE SIDEWALK
In the late ‘60’s when I arrived here in Lotusland, there were no bicycles permitted on the sidewalks and the sight of a motorized scooter was a scene indeed. Now they’re all over the sidewalks scooting and cycling around pedestrians who walk like old cows and the sidewalk has become its own version of mayhem. Pedestrians and drivers meanwhile compete for skip-across street status. The mulit-tonned vehicles have the advantage offering involuntary pedicures, as the busses blast through red lights and not pick up gasping clients after thumping on their door.
And in the murky wild of the downtown eastside, cops release dogs in alleyways after the ‘perp’ has thrown up his arms in surrender. Yawn with fear.
WITNESSED:
An elderly Chinese woman was seen to be staggering on Keefer St in full view of her neighbours. She finally collapsed in mid-street as ongoing traffic passed her by. I was stunned by her predicament and went out there to help, finally with a Chinese storekeeper helping me to lift her bloodied face from the pavement. No one else, of her own people, bothered about her. So much for Chinatown, Vancouver, being the least bit compassionate.
Civility is lost here in the land of the Olympics. Run baby run.
But alas the dogs are nicely attended. We are by law required to bend over and pick up their poop. Who’s the master of this scene? Yelp yelp and hah hah.
TV Wars
Shaw Cable would have us believe they support local issues and spend real money on these productions. They cancelled the show in Nelson entitled Meeting at the Top, which involved interviewing people there of intelligence and some notoriety about what it meant to live at the top of their form. When I, the host, discovered that Shaw Cable kept the copyright of my words and interviews despite many original conversations of note, I resigned and they killed the programme. Meanwhile CTV and CBC are asking for more money for local coverage. CBC is already bankrolled by the taxparer putting CTV and other private stations at a disadvantage. CBC needs to stop selling ads and use their public money for newsworthy purposes as opposed to their rather pathetic effort at comedy and fiction, and the most unfunny man on the air, Rick Mercer.
Both Shaw and CTV etc need to reconcile the viewers more interested in being educated than being a pawn in their petty wars. On my TOMBY index the programming across the board is 9, for crap and gratuitous violence. Save us all some money and let the screen go snowy.
Then the Vancouver Courier splashed a cover of a Harry Potter book on their front page promoting book-buying in the city. Thank you editor for ignoring all the independent authors right here in Vancouver and giving that author another unnecessary boost.
Yawn and yawn.
BIKES, SCOOTERS AND COWS ON THE SIDEWALK
In the late ‘60’s when I arrived here in Lotusland, there were no bicycles permitted on the sidewalks and the sight of a motorized scooter was a scene indeed. Now they’re all over the sidewalks scooting and cycling around pedestrians who walk like old cows and the sidewalk has become its own version of mayhem. Pedestrians and drivers meanwhile compete for skip-across street status. The mulit-tonned vehicles have the advantage offering involuntary pedicures, as the busses blast through red lights and not pick up gasping clients after thumping on their door.
And in the murky wild of the downtown eastside, cops release dogs in alleyways after the ‘perp’ has thrown up his arms in surrender. Yawn with fear.
WITNESSED:
An elderly Chinese woman was seen to be staggering on Keefer St in full view of her neighbours. She finally collapsed in mid-street as ongoing traffic passed her by. I was stunned by her predicament and went out there to help, finally with a Chinese storekeeper helping me to lift her bloodied face from the pavement. No one else, of her own people, bothered about her. So much for Chinatown, Vancouver, being the least bit compassionate.
Civility is lost here in the land of the Olympics. Run baby run.
But alas the dogs are nicely attended. We are by law required to bend over and pick up their poop. Who’s the master of this scene? Yelp yelp and hah hah.
TV Wars
Shaw Cable would have us believe they support local issues and spend real money on these productions. They cancelled the show in Nelson entitled Meeting at the Top, which involved interviewing people there of intelligence and some notoriety about what it meant to live at the top of their form. When I, the host, discovered that Shaw Cable kept the copyright of my words and interviews despite many original conversations of note, I resigned and they killed the programme. Meanwhile CTV and CBC are asking for more money for local coverage. CBC is already bankrolled by the taxparer putting CTV and other private stations at a disadvantage. CBC needs to stop selling ads and use their public money for newsworthy purposes as opposed to their rather pathetic effort at comedy and fiction, and the most unfunny man on the air, Rick Mercer.
Both Shaw and CTV etc need to reconcile the viewers more interested in being educated than being a pawn in their petty wars. On my TOMBY index the programming across the board is 9, for crap and gratuitous violence. Save us all some money and let the screen go snowy.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
The Wind About Us
More tourists coming. And what will they discover?
That we’ve swept away our homeless? Leapt over them under blankets on our charity runs?
Will they risk an involuntary pedicure when trying to cross the street?
Our city, this namesake of a heroic seaman and cartographer, is resplendent with magnificent trees evident of decades of care and we, though, meanwhile have lost the rock garden in Stanley Park by neglect stemming from indifference… and what after all can possibly stem from indifference?
And so unfortunately we have lost a sense of identity. New immigrants of brutal wealth are buying condos and apartments as investments and they remain empty while some gentleman of momentary bad fortune can’t find a home to rent. Landlords here have become shrewd and disinterested in the plight of their fellow man. Credit checking and snooping is the call of their day when apprising any prospective tenant.
But before I begin to sound prejudiced by generalizing, allow me to introduce the TOMBY index: "Too Many By…” So instead of calling all by race, or judging by creed or caste as a writer of some conscience I will attempt to describe a trend, perhaps a sociological one which affects us all. For example: Do lawyers talk too much and charge by the syllable? TOMBY: 80 (on a scale of 1-100).
A neighbourhood is ultimately a reflection of the people who live, shop, laugh and cavort there. A city is a reflection of its neighbourhoods and a country is again mirrored by its modern multifaceted cities.
We wondered not too long ago about “the Canadian identity.” And I wonder now how easily we have allowed a cultural revolution - bloodless - but in ways shameful to our heritage. What made us Canadian? Our pioneers and our wealth of stories seems of little interest to our newcomers (TOMBY 60).
Our spiritual climate can be spied oft times as a wind of fury. A baritone hiss of deliberate ignorance. The sneer and the snobbery; the glance of arrogance and the drivers who treat the walkers like video-game targets. This is how we might perceive the spiritual climate of our city despite those brilliant and comforting willows, maples and oaks which cascade and mingle across our side streets.
We are those leaves, uniquely contoured, fluttering in blessed youth, changing hue in autumn, and there sparkling in the late summer sun. Why, might God wonder - that personality of the infinite - do each of us refuse the glory given as a birthright… that glory of our humanity, our immediate magnificence?
Why do we not acknowledge the power of automatic decency and visible integrity as such goodness may increase the body of the universe, that personality, inflating its pleasure. We are outlined by the breath of God. Let us then carry ourselves with a gait and manner which behoves such divinity.
Let us be aware.
We have all heard the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Well, it’s time now to: “Speak unto others as you would have them speak unto you.” And therein find your identity, your contour, your neighbourhood, your world.
The wind about us will find us. Let us be found in joy and described as a dear companion to beauty.
That we’ve swept away our homeless? Leapt over them under blankets on our charity runs?
Will they risk an involuntary pedicure when trying to cross the street?
Our city, this namesake of a heroic seaman and cartographer, is resplendent with magnificent trees evident of decades of care and we, though, meanwhile have lost the rock garden in Stanley Park by neglect stemming from indifference… and what after all can possibly stem from indifference?
And so unfortunately we have lost a sense of identity. New immigrants of brutal wealth are buying condos and apartments as investments and they remain empty while some gentleman of momentary bad fortune can’t find a home to rent. Landlords here have become shrewd and disinterested in the plight of their fellow man. Credit checking and snooping is the call of their day when apprising any prospective tenant.
But before I begin to sound prejudiced by generalizing, allow me to introduce the TOMBY index: "Too Many By…” So instead of calling all by race, or judging by creed or caste as a writer of some conscience I will attempt to describe a trend, perhaps a sociological one which affects us all. For example: Do lawyers talk too much and charge by the syllable? TOMBY: 80 (on a scale of 1-100).
A neighbourhood is ultimately a reflection of the people who live, shop, laugh and cavort there. A city is a reflection of its neighbourhoods and a country is again mirrored by its modern multifaceted cities.
We wondered not too long ago about “the Canadian identity.” And I wonder now how easily we have allowed a cultural revolution - bloodless - but in ways shameful to our heritage. What made us Canadian? Our pioneers and our wealth of stories seems of little interest to our newcomers (TOMBY 60).
Our spiritual climate can be spied oft times as a wind of fury. A baritone hiss of deliberate ignorance. The sneer and the snobbery; the glance of arrogance and the drivers who treat the walkers like video-game targets. This is how we might perceive the spiritual climate of our city despite those brilliant and comforting willows, maples and oaks which cascade and mingle across our side streets.
We are those leaves, uniquely contoured, fluttering in blessed youth, changing hue in autumn, and there sparkling in the late summer sun. Why, might God wonder - that personality of the infinite - do each of us refuse the glory given as a birthright… that glory of our humanity, our immediate magnificence?
Why do we not acknowledge the power of automatic decency and visible integrity as such goodness may increase the body of the universe, that personality, inflating its pleasure. We are outlined by the breath of God. Let us then carry ourselves with a gait and manner which behoves such divinity.
Let us be aware.
We have all heard the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Well, it’s time now to: “Speak unto others as you would have them speak unto you.” And therein find your identity, your contour, your neighbourhood, your world.
The wind about us will find us. Let us be found in joy and described as a dear companion to beauty.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Saturday, September 05, 2009
poems
Be inside joy. Spy it around you.
Permit joy.
Hearing affirmations from nature.
There’s your day.
Then pray.
My lost friend
loves me when
i find him again
and with his permission
we enjoy our humanity.
a kind of mission.
my lost friend
is with me again. -langen
talk talk talk
spear
talk talk talk
hear. -s coburn
Permit joy.
Hearing affirmations from nature.
There’s your day.
Then pray.
My lost friend
loves me when
i find him again
and with his permission
we enjoy our humanity.
a kind of mission.
my lost friend
is with me again. -langen
talk talk talk
spear
talk talk talk
hear. -s coburn
Thursday, September 03, 2009
For Layabouts
When you had hope
And hope gave you form,
One might have said, "That is the man you are becoming."
But you are not a man to die with the dignity of manhood.
Labouring with us.
Daily, you gave up your manhood to swim in a swamp of lies.
Which makes you a thing.
You will die as a thing.
But perhaps hope remains.
Because infinite generosity remains...
belonging solely to your choice.
And hope gave you form,
One might have said, "That is the man you are becoming."
But you are not a man to die with the dignity of manhood.
Labouring with us.
Daily, you gave up your manhood to swim in a swamp of lies.
Which makes you a thing.
You will die as a thing.
But perhaps hope remains.
Because infinite generosity remains...
belonging solely to your choice.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Money in our Genes?
With science having advanced so impressively this last century – a minor marker in our human history – it is no longer arguable that fear and anxiety have an organic effect on our health. And since industrialization – another brief but more potent negative marker – we have all discovered the unpleasant circumstance of being polluted inside our private and public environments. And now somewhat cornered, not unlike a frightened raccoon, we react with some terror and rage. (Check the drivers these days including the so-called professionals who barrel through red lights.)
And greed soon rears its despicable face and we collapse morally.
After generations of this unnatural tension, our bodies are disinclined to joy and as parents we are presenting a hereditary blueprint of greed and dismay.
Are we on a weird precipice where we find money in our genes? Such a spiritual dilemma amounts to worse than a pox. We are at risk of losing our sense of goodness, that elusive but vital anchor which may describe our neighbourliness and civility.
We are this neighbourhood, this city, this country. Selling our water and citizenship indifferently doesn’t embolden our grasp of a delicate situation. Our words and deeds are our only hope to reverse this predicament and which may collectively bring light to bear upon those wayward genes of ours. Your grandchildren will be thankful that you have taken this notice.
And greed soon rears its despicable face and we collapse morally.
After generations of this unnatural tension, our bodies are disinclined to joy and as parents we are presenting a hereditary blueprint of greed and dismay.
Are we on a weird precipice where we find money in our genes? Such a spiritual dilemma amounts to worse than a pox. We are at risk of losing our sense of goodness, that elusive but vital anchor which may describe our neighbourliness and civility.
We are this neighbourhood, this city, this country. Selling our water and citizenship indifferently doesn’t embolden our grasp of a delicate situation. Our words and deeds are our only hope to reverse this predicament and which may collectively bring light to bear upon those wayward genes of ours. Your grandchildren will be thankful that you have taken this notice.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Guarding the Shape of Man
"As pines keep the shape of the wind
even when the wind has fled, and is no longer there,
so words
guard the shape of man
even when man has fled, and is no longer there."
-George Seferis, 1969.
even when the wind has fled, and is no longer there,
so words
guard the shape of man
even when man has fled, and is no longer there."
-George Seferis, 1969.
The word was made flesh
and then there was light.
light is…
The memory of your mother’s laughter. The first smile of your child hearing the laughter of another’s.
light is…
the form of your lover’s legs,
the laughter of girls and young men at play and
the stars at their most mysterious;
the heaven and those sparkling mathematics.
light is…
the science of goodness and the quiet patience scripted across the countenance of God.
light is…
the warmth of her flesh and the pulse of his sex.
light is…
the opening red flower with its pearl white underpinnings surprising you. And the colour of your tears.
light is…
the tone of his skin and the hue of his hair under that silent moonshine.
light is…
the shadows of our worst fears and the glory of our victories.
light is…
the knowing of humanity and those who hear the first words of the personality of the infinite.
Light is hearing of words spontaneously spoken which give freedom.
Light is the form of hope which drives us to persevere and persevere we must to see… light is ultimately Love and the form of Knowing Itself.
light is…
our beginning with absolute innocence and our knowing of the delicate frame of our mortality, as we wait. Finally, without trepidation, because you see Light escorts us to more chambers of divinity.
Light is detail and clarity. “Be here now?" No. Be with Light in all its complexity and about the rooms in His palace… all of which offer more radiance, warmth and at last, Light.
and then there was light.
light is…
The memory of your mother’s laughter. The first smile of your child hearing the laughter of another’s.
light is…
the form of your lover’s legs,
the laughter of girls and young men at play and
the stars at their most mysterious;
the heaven and those sparkling mathematics.
light is…
the science of goodness and the quiet patience scripted across the countenance of God.
light is…
the warmth of her flesh and the pulse of his sex.
light is…
the opening red flower with its pearl white underpinnings surprising you. And the colour of your tears.
light is…
the tone of his skin and the hue of his hair under that silent moonshine.
light is…
the shadows of our worst fears and the glory of our victories.
light is…
the knowing of humanity and those who hear the first words of the personality of the infinite.
Light is hearing of words spontaneously spoken which give freedom.
Light is the form of hope which drives us to persevere and persevere we must to see… light is ultimately Love and the form of Knowing Itself.
light is…
our beginning with absolute innocence and our knowing of the delicate frame of our mortality, as we wait. Finally, without trepidation, because you see Light escorts us to more chambers of divinity.
Light is detail and clarity. “Be here now?" No. Be with Light in all its complexity and about the rooms in His palace… all of which offer more radiance, warmth and at last, Light.
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