Hopeless Refuge

Each morning D and me have a "meeting" where we review our plans for the day and then share short readings.  We're currently working through a book of "Over 125 poetic companions, from Basho to Billy Collins, Saigyo to Shakespeare"  The title of this collection is The Poetry of Impermanence, Mindfuness, and Joy. edited by John Brehm.

This morning's non-titled piece was written by Portuguese author Fernando Pessoa.

Calm because I'm unknown,
And myself because I'm calm.
I want to fill my days
With wanting nothing from them.

For those whom wealth touches,
Gold irritates the skin.
For those on whom fame glows,
Life fogs over.

On those for whom happiness
Is their sun, night will fall.
But those who hope for nothing
Are glad for whatever comes.

 "I want to fill my days with wanting nothing from them."  I'm sure that for most of my life this line of thinking would seem like non-sensical buddha babble. Maybe it's starting to make more sense now because I'm  getting old and it's foolish to hope for too much.  Maybe, but I think/know its more than that..

Reading the lines of this poem was like hearing the clear, shimmering, beautiful sound of a wooden hammer hitting the side of a Tibetan singing bowl on the fifth day of a meditation retreat.   A welcome call to reenter a place of peace and stillness. A hopeless refuge.

In December, 2010 one of my earliest blog posts had extended excerpts from East Coker, one of Four Quartets by T.S. Eliot.  These lines seem especially apropos here...

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth.

How wonderful it is to find words like these.  Thank you Mr. Passao and Mr. Eliot.

What would Bill do?

D and me are going back to Mexico at the end of the month.

A friend of mine who has fine-tuned  literary taste but a problematic political perspective encouraged me to resurrect this blog to report on the trip. Whoa..someone actually remembers Ferdrightnow!?  I was surprised and flattered.  Surprised because when I was posting the blog regularly very few people would read it and even fewer would ever make a comment.   Flattered because this guy actually seemed to think I might be able to write something worthwhile. At seventy-two compliments seem to be few and far between.  Best one I remember over the past year is "Nice putt!"

I unexpectedly found my blog juices flowing.  Hmmm.  I had posted 78 entries starting in 2010.  My  last one was in February 2017.   I started rereading many of these past entries and and some of them were pretty good.  It seems I could be inspired,  every now and then, to write something worth reading.  Maybe I should try it again.  Maybe my synapses could still fire fast enough to enable me to capture some fleeting insights or observation.

Why did I stop three years ago?  Not sure.  I think a major reason was that, Bill Knipscher, my dear friend and one of my most loyal and supportive readers, died in November 2017.  Often, knowing Bill would be reading, was enough to motivate me.  Consider Bill's comment re my "Artful Greed" post in February, 2017. 

"Hey, Ferd, your're perfect just as you are.  No need to strive for perfection. So are we all.So is the world. Enjoy it." 

This quote plus the golf bag attached to his motorcycle with bungee cords gives you an idea of what Bill was like.

I'll never know for sure why I stopped writing.  The more immediate question is do I really want to start again?  I'm just not sure.  I know trying to effectively share experiences and perspectives makes me look at things more carefully and engage more fully and deeply.  That's a pretty good payoff.  I just don't want to make a commitment that turns into a chore instead of the joyful pursuit of truth and meaning that I want it to be.  It seems that I continually have to relearn that some of the best things of life usually flow out of focused, committed action.

When struggling trying to make a decision I often say to myself "What would Bill do?"  Well I'm pretty darn sure what he'd tell me at this point.  "Stop fartin' around and just do it."   Okay Bill.  I'll get back in the blog saddle and see what happens.  I hope some of you are interested in coming along for the ride.