Dear Larry and Carol,
Thanks for your emails.
"We are not here to see through one another. We are here to see one another through."
I turn 72 this August and, except for people's kindness, find less and less reason to focus wisdom except as it is incarnated in behavior.
There is "talking the talk."
And "walking the walk."
And often it seems that focusing the former distracts from the latter. (Not always, but often.)
My limited involvement with meditation suggests that the mind is a "bubble machine" and our thoughts are the bubbles.
Distraction "takes us away" from the "straight shot reality" of our lives and how that straight shot -- taken "neat" (as Brits say when drinking liquor straight) -- can be the place where "we" meet.
But make no mistake.
Meeting is seldom (rarely?) easy.
For me - and for many - meeting seems too real.
"The bubbles," on the other hand, provide (or seems to provide) protection, insulation, escape.
Begging the question... protection, insulation and escape from what?
Four Quartets
Jump to navigationJump to searchBurnt Norton (1935)
Towards the door we never opened
Down the passage which we did not take
Footfalls echo in the memory
Point to one end, which is always present.
What might have been and what has been Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future
And time future contained in time past.
- Into the rose-garden. My words echo
Thus, in your mind.
But to what purpose
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves
I do not know.
- Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind
Cannot bear very much reality.
Time past and time future
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
- At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement.
And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.
I can only say, there we have been: but I cannot say where
And I cannot say, how long, for that is to place it in time.
- Time past and time future
Allow but a little consciousness.
To be conscious is not to be in time
But only in time can the moment in the rose-garden,
The moment in the arbour where the rain beat,
The moment in the draughty church at smokefall
Be remembered; involved with past and future.
Only through time time is conquered.
- Words move, music moves
Only in time; but that which is only living
Can only die. Words, after speech, reach
Into the silence.
- Or say that the end precedes the beginning,
And the end and the beginning were always there
Before the beginning and after the end.
And all is always now. Words strain,
Crack and sometimes break, under the burden,
Under the tension, slip, slide, perish,
Will not stay still.
- Desire itself is movement
Not in itself desirable;
Love is itself unmoving,
Only the cause and end of movement,
Timeless, and undesiring
Except in the aspect of time
Caught in the form of limitation
Between un-being and being.
- Sudden in a shaft of sunlight
Even while the dust moves
There rises the hidden laughter
Of children in the foliage
Quick now, here, now, always—
Ridiculous the waste sad time
Stretching before and after.
I only recently discovered the life and work of Baba Amte, "A Man With An Oil Can."
Pax-Shalom-Salaam
Alan
PS What is the sound of one hand slapping?