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Dreams Calling Out

I’ve often wondered if my non-verbal
cerebral palsied son
dreams in colors
and/or words
he can hear clearly
but cannot himself see or say,
at least not clearly articulate.

Yet any sounds and gentle touch
we appreciate perhaps too dearly
if that is possible with D,
my wounded son.

So, I was surprised,
after twenty years of delighted wonder,
and awed last new moon night
when he shouted “Hey!” into my ear,
about one inch from his mouth
in that time of darkest sight

While I had been dreaming of stepping out
where full moon’s light
brights a mysterious pilgrimage into mysterious,
perhaps even mischievous, adventure.

My heart sparked
as D shouted Hey! miraculously
just as I was greeting moon light
splayed across our front porch,
intending to leave D behind
to walk out into Earth’s bright staged sights
while leaving him to rest in peace.

My eyes popped open.

While D slept peacefully on,
without triumphant smile or despondent frown,
although perhaps just a hint
of his mischievous shy dimple, down
toward the front of his right cheek
curling open to grace me
with a loopy grateful grin
shallow but neatly round.

Say Hey! together
calling out this night’s pilgrimage spell
swelling day’s scavenging bright
un-voiced adventures
in listening well.

Calling out
to both Sun and Rain
to thank these for their presence
and remind them of covenants
to remain in perpetual organic balance,
co-present presence,
not too hot and ultra-violet,
not too wet
and green moldy degenerate.

Calling out
in dreams of healthy new moons
and wealthy fullness, shout
resting in Advent’s
adventurous
adventuring
peaceful outback pilgrimage
into boundaries of minds
in dreaming bodies.

 

 

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An Amusing Music Muse

I suspect I’m more interested in how Sondheim writes music
than the Beatles,

Although I have no information
to support this paltry hypothesis

Much less could I justify to patient well-versed you
why I also suspect
this tells me something about who I am

And vocationally about who I am meant to be
as a gospel communicating person,
a transporting soul
sharing sung enchantments.

Does linguistic content
inform mystery’s melodic message?

Or do melody and rhythm
reign before shaping
unfolding ecological
psychological
theological lyrics?

Or all of these sacred ingredient voices
speaking with secular integrity
Above?

Deep love learning below

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The Admirable Admirer

I did not understand his visit,
it’s timing
or purpose
nor he mine, I suppose.

I would have asked
but Why?
felt better as a mystery
or magic
or in-between
explored by mythic listening
and passionate watching.

He was tall
slender
muscular without too much diesel Yang,
Graceful
and ecstatic
to see me again
after all these in-between years.

I was on an urgent mission
to rescue two wounded children
from uncertain surgical government
absence of healing care
but had to stop
as he approached
as if I were the only person
in all of Sacred EarthTribe
he had ever loved,
could love,
would love

But “should love”
that was my question
about why this visit
now
when I was so otherwise committed,
exhausted really.

Before I could explain
about my perennial rescue mission
he wanted to share with me
how remarkable his friend
who adopted
two complexly hurt children.

His enthusiasm was contagious
and comforting
What I needed to hear
to feel I merited his handsome smile
happy eyes
his intimately frank appraisal
of having been found good,
worthy in more ways than one
if I know what he means.

If he is this excited
about his friend
on a new rescue mission
for climate health of innocence
how enthused might he become
when I tell him
I am a struggling therapeutic parent
of four complex and discarded post-millennials,
inching toward our peaceful revolution,
restoring self with other love
integrity.

But he was gone
with the morning alarm
before we had time
to consummate this fabulous exchange
of mutual admiration.

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Curiosity Feeds the Cat

Where my love goes
mystery cannot fade.

Yet my curiosity can wilt without your active support,
contagious nourishment,
never-ending flames of wonder
that this love could persist.

How could we possibly not share our lives,
mutually disinvest from mystery
that will not fade dampened?

Yet without active curiosity
mystery fades hoplesse to know more,
even though love’s thirst for internal history
and self-creation stories
becomes too easily quenched
by cooperative post-climatic adjustments,
aging continental planets
earth-quaking our chronically mutual mysteries.

Where my love goes
your history could not fade ,
yet dark fading curiosity of aging eyes and ears
and minds
can blend well-deserved contentment
feeding flame’s remorseless desire to continue this mystery
of love’s deep and blissful curiosity.

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Professor Gorey’s Sound Bytes

Professor Gorey
always had a story
filled wit guts and grim
til most folks around these parts
those with their full share of smarts
asked her where she finds her glory.

Grim Reaper
is not my heart’s keeper
and I thank you so for asking
just what I see as our life tasking,
to face our fears as permanent sleepers.

Professor Gorey
how could your story
of climatic strangulations
and cataclysmic slaughter of multiple reiterations
do other than make us snorey?

Story can wake you up
if you drink them with half-filled inductive cup
rather than gulping with competition
while choking on potential cooperation
between what’s contracting down while expanding up.

What is this mystery
we cannot see?
of breathing ego down while eco-up,
soothing prickly cats by playing gooey pups,
confusing what might become
with how we choose to be?

You’ve asked me well
so I must tell,
my gory mystery
of permaculturing history
is what makes my regenerating health so swell.

 

Note:

This piece plays with Alan Watts’ idea that there are two human cultural typologies, in mutually co-arising relationship. Pricklies are competitive-reductive dominant, following Win-Lose Gaming logistics, meaning that if I win then everybody else can lose, if they so choose, that is their business, and none of mine. Gooeys are cooperative-inductive dominant, following Win-Win Gaming logistics, meaning that if I win then everybody else might also be able to win, if they so choose, that is our business together, and We are larger Me.

Much of my economics-as-ecosystem work combines this observation with Julian Jaynes’ theory of the bicameral brain, where Left-ego-center hemisphere plays the role of Prickly, while Right-eco-center hemisphere plays the role of dual-transparently reiteratively balanced (the opposite of cognitive dissonance) DNA-fractal-gooey Elder AnaLogic as EcoLogic. This offers an internal landscape understory of why we notice what we notice through the lens of Positive Psychology, why positive balanced lifestyles, rich in healthy relationships, lead toward optimally regenerative happiness and fully-lived, enriched and enriching, cooperative lives and lifestyles and neighborhoods, and extended families, and tribes, and cultures, and other positive-polycultural information systems, inclusive of digital and binary QBit/8-Byte Octave reverse-hierarchical cooperatively double-bound logic-default Win-Win Gaming systems.

And I agree wholeheartedly with Charles Eisenstein that this cooperative Win-Win ecological economic human-natured game we unfold is sacred in its most cooperatively developed regenerations. and reiterations.

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