Ol Man River- (Reblogged from Peter and Paul)

Ol’ Man River (This is Reblogged from Stan Kapuscinski’ s Peter and Paul)

Few maxims are as misunderstood as the wisdom of non-interference. It may have begun with Lao Tsu, and later picked up by Isaiah, with the same intent. Much later Oscar Hammerstein echoed the ancient wisdom.

We start with the pursuit of Tao: that elusive Unknown that resides in our Unconscious.

“In pursuit of knowledge,
every day something is added.
In the practice of the Tao,
every day something is dropped.
Less and less do you need to force things,
until finally you arrive at non-action.
When nothing is done,
nothing is left undone.
True mastery can be gained
by letting things go their own way.
It can’t be gained by interfering.”

The “pursuit of knowledge” is an attempt of our ego to make do without relying on the input from our Unconscious. The problem is that knowledge deals almost exclusively with what is dead; or with the empty space of which we are made, and which surrounds us. Or even with the light from stars millions of light-years away, which possibly had long ceased to exist.

When Lao Tsu says that “nothing is done, nothing left undone”, we have arrived at the gate of the Unconscious, and have become instruments of the Infinite.

The words are echoed in Isaiah’s Psalm 23.

“The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want,
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
He leadeth me by the still waters,
He restoreth my soul…
… my cup runneth over. ”

The Lord symbolizes Infinite Potential within the Unconscious. The “green pastures” assure us of never having to struggle. The “still waters” refer to the peace of mind, and “my soul” is, of course, the Subconscious, or the experience we have gathered from the beginning of time.

When eventually “our cup runneth over,” we return home.

And then Oscar Hammerstein:

“Old Man River, Old Man River,
He don’t say nothing, he must know sometin’
Old Man River, he just keeps rollin’ along
You know, you know he don’t plant taters
And we all know the man don’t plant no cotton
And then, then they plant ’em
Oh the Lord knows they are soon forgotten
But Old Man River, he just keeps rollin’ along.”

Truth must be continuously rediscovered. Ol’ Man River symbolizes the eternal Tao. The “Ol’ Man” does nothing—what we do, all knowledge, is soon forgotten.

Perhaps in a few millions years we shall accept that we are instruments of the Eternal Flow, which carries the intent which is, and might forever remain, unknown; even as our mind cannot encompass the universe. Perhaps we might be consoled that we are indispensable drops of water in the Mighty River that flows eternally; that continuously covers new grounds, and eventually returns to the Eternal Ocean from which we all once emerged. Yet every drop is indispensable to carve a new bed, to round new corners, to deepen some parts, erode others. We are all indispensable.

It is not a bad way to be.

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SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: RICHARD D’ABATE

A stunning poem, a new site discovered. Good news to share.

Sivan Butler-Rotholz's avatarThe As It Ought to Be Archive

photo (5)

By Richard D’Abate:

THE SADNESS OF YOUNG MOTHERS

Because we’re at the beach today our sadness
knows itself,

Between the sinking sand and slowly measured
falling waves.

Not long ago time was arrow-tipped and
ravenous.

It found its mark before the god of love had
even stirred.

It filled our bones to bursting, era of the second
self begun.

Now every gesture mirrors gestures of a
smaller one.

They raise their arms, we raise our arms, they wobble
toward the sea

Like turtle hatchlings, thoughtless prey, and
so do we.

We match the steps of half-formed beings—
tender, new—

Ourselves, our future selves, alive but always
cut in two.

We are afraid. The burning sun devours
little bones.

Their little mouths will gulp the tangled weed, the
sliding foam.

We run, we start to run, but time has a thickness
all its own,

And half of half of half is…

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Guest Post | Chris Graham aka The Story Reading Ape on Mythology

Lovely that the Ape came down from his tree/cave/lookout long enough to share his wisdom/conjectures/imagination/fleas and let us survey this self effacing/shy/inhibited creature whose pleasure is in service to others/writers/self-aggrandizing/desperate/hoarse floggers of books/ideas/propagandas.

Reality Redefined: Vivid Experience Inspires: Words Approximate

Reality Redefined: Vivid Experience Inspires: Words Approximate. Over on the other site for anyone here who does not know it exists!

2015 The Resurrection of Focus. (Careless Talk Costs Lives).

2015 The Resurrection of Focus. (Careless Talk Costs Lives)..

For kind followers of this kitchen table blog, you are invited where the fire is lit, across the hall, to share a New Year’s glass. Do follow here?

… mood swings …

It is a true gift to share something against the tide of the prevailing ‘pretend certainties’. This post grapples head on with giving the lie to the marching tramp of success boots, the racing to the finish line, and instead offers a cloth on which to lay offerings of doubt, of distress, and near-despair. The comfort comes from sharing the common meal.

courseofmirrors's avatarCourse of Mirrors

A strong spirit can be dampened, sometimes at birth, sometimes through a later trauma, but with care, it can also be nurtured and strengthened. And like an effective immune system, it helps us to adjust imbalances in mind and body. The link between spirit and the immune system tends to be ignored when resources go into fighting the seeming culprit, historically blamed for imbalances, the intruder. True listening and welcoming a dialogues with the enemy are rare.

Churt Sculptor Park Churt Sculptor Park

A recent Health Survey reports that nearly half of England’s population is on prescription drugs. And today’s news highlight once more that super bugs are on the rise. Factors that dent the spirit are not taken into the equation. When one observes how some of the dehumanising complexities of our systems wear down the dignity of people, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that depression is a sane reaction…

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Last Chance to Help Launch #ReadTuesday with Thunder (a Black Friday for #Books)

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, creeps on this petty pace from…. Generous authors needs sustenance ( of belief) Please share

Got this email from a friend….

Delicious story. Needs re-telling everywhere

Chris The Story Reading Ape's avatarChris The Story Reading Ape's Blog

Time is like a river. You cannot touch the water twice, because the flow that has passed will never pass again. Enjoy every moment of life. As a bagpiper, I play many gigs. Recently I was asked by a funeral director to play at a graveside service for a homeless man. He had no family or friends, so the service was to be at a pauper’s cemetery in the Nova Scotia back country.

As I was not familiar with the backwoods, I got lost and, being a typical man, I didn’t stop for directions.

I finally arrived an hour late and saw the funeral guy had evidently gone and the hearse was nowhere in sight. There were only the diggers and crew left and they were eating lunch. I felt badly and apologized to the men for being late.

I went to the side of the grave and looked down…

View original post 157 more words

A Shadow in Yucatan Review Almost- no Very- Embarrassing!

Chris Rose gifted this yesterday and I post it with trepidation. This book has lain dormant on Amazon for almost eight years, but he may have given it the kiss of life!

 

Ana Grigoriu  gifted me this image
Ana Grigoriu gifted me this image

 

The Specialist (unequalled), November 4, 2014
This review is from: A Shadow in Yucatan (Kindle Edition)
One of the extended luxuries of reading a book – particularly a good one, but then, at my age, I (we) should know when to abandon the not-so-good – is writing a review: another blank page to dash with blush and beam; pastels afforded by the author – go on, s/he enthuses, five stars in all the colours of the rainbow…And then along comes Philippa Rees, with A Shadow in Yutacán, and I feel very much like the amateur – where to begin? Where then when begun? Philippa Rees’ A Shadow in Yutacán is the kind of book that… well, I’ve noted Dylan Thomas in passing but he was never this good – reviewer scuffs the clichés infesting the corners of his mind.I am honestly at a loss. This – pardon me and every reviewer for saying so – is an absolute work of art. And heart. For, make no mistake, Philippa’s heart is at the very core of this work – a work that would be a rank fail if not. We might then forget genre – how `winkingly’ witty dear Bob Book-Jacket should inform us our “distilled novel fits no category… is not poetry…”Poetry, then, is in the ear of the beholder? And persuasive, indeed, it is. I’m reminded of Arthur Quiller Couch:”Literature is not an abstract Science, to which exact definitions can be applied. It is an Art rather, the success of which depends on personal persuasiveness, on the author’s skill to give as on ours to receive.” ??????????????????????

Stephanie, the book’s MC, who wakes “to a smouldering afternoon pregnant with thunder”, via pregnancy both of the belly and naivety, comes full circle – and in fact recalls a literary character of my own creation; if only she could put brakes on the rumbling rails of life!

But, for me, the `book’ transcends 1960s dreams damned to the frailties of reality; this is Blake’s Innocence and Experience second-done. And this, to repeat the idea of being lost for words, as well as to offer the most audacious of paradoxes, is a flight in animation, where the beauty of Philippa’s poetry becomes mute to the magical carpet-ride of Stephanie’s sensitivities… Come on, then, dear animators, this is the one you’ve been waiting for! Remember what was done with Raymond Briggs’ Snowman?

“If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all,” scoffs an Irish wit from spirit. What would he have made of this, though, eh? I do but wonder.

If I were limited to one question only, then it would surely be: `Philippa, how long did it take you to write A Shadow in Yutacán?’ And yet I’d refrain, for fear of either answer.

`Not too long,’ she smiles, `it is of my natural pen.’

Then I’ll place down my own forevermore. Consolation being I’ll order more – books! – I suppose.

`Actually, it was a real slog. A good two years.’

Mmm. Oh, why, by GOD, as I write, has it not yet been bestowed with the honour it deserves?

I will read A Shadow in Yutacán again. And again. And each time will be like the first.

This is a masterpiece.

(If you are persuaded you can find it here on Amazon  or in ebook here on Smashwords)

Takes a commute to read, transports you further
Takes a commute to read, transports you further

Dog Days Eclipse

Dog Days Eclipse.

Poem for a beloved Milly intent detaildog. On the other site here

Milly observing