Memories of a fighting world,
Litter the hall,
The spikes and sharp objects of another life,
When wedded to my status and my achievements,
I forgot how to breathe, how to care, how to love,
........and be loved,
.......and be cared for.
One night woke with my own hand grasping my throat,
One night woke driving a hot poker through my own heart,
Life fighting life fighting life,
Trying to prove a point that was already proven,
Like a mad dog chasing its tail,
And not sensing the whole that is self evident
........evident self,
.......evident life.
Pray keep me sane,
Far from the maddening crowd,
Pray keep me feeling this breath,
And tending to the little things,
Whilst gving my all to the All,
Pray keep me sane,
Amidst all these fantastic illusions,
For I know that from this vantage point,
I can share in the grander will and be the innocent blossoming of life I was born to be,
.....born to be,
....born to BE!
(This is passionate poem, a passionate plea. Having glimpsed release from worldly temptations (status, achievements,..), there is always the risk of falling back and becoming insanely attached to them again. Attached to the outcomes, attached to the pain of a competitive, fragmented life. The poem highlights the self-defeating nature of such a vicious circle, the absurd use of consciousness to create an 'unwinnable' illusion. Versus an alternative perspective where focus is upon the 'little things' like care and love and breath and giving and a letting go to that which is greater than you, whateve you might call that. The final line reminds me of the phrase that we are, first and foremost, human beings not human 'doings'. It is in the 'being' not the 'doing' that we can stay sane.)
Monday, 31 August 2009
Monday, 24 August 2009
Defenceless and Waiting
I open my palms,
And drop all defences,
Weapons that clatter to the floor,
But you keep coming at me,
To leave feints and whirls, ducks and dives,
We can play this game all day,
If you really want to,
If you really want to,
All those hours of sweaty practise,
Through raining blows,
Now you see me, now you don't,
We can play this game all day,
If you really want to,
If you really want to,
Yet outside the sun is shining,
The birds are singing,
God is creating in all his glory,
Children are crying for a better world,
Yelling for us to stop it,
Stop it now you foolish fighting men,
If you really want to,
If you really want to,
For a pregnant future awaits your choice,
If you really want it,
If you really want it.
(I was talking to a friend last week who is focussing her coaching work on 'helping Type A's achieve results without creating collateral damage'. Our conversation reminded me of this poem which is a metaphor for working with 'Alpha Mammalians'. Often such leaders are male but not exclusively so. This type of leader tends to want to 'fight' with you, if not physically then mentally. Everything is a competition and everything leads to either domination or being dominated, to win or lose, to victory or defeat. This is the only 'lens' through which they appear to view the world. With many years of t'ai chi training, I am familiar with t'ai chi as a self-defence technique and the poem visualises me employing self-defence techniques to avoid being 'defeated' but getting very tired of this 'game' to the point of giving up ('I open my palms, And drop all defences, Weapons that clatter to the floor'). Beyond this point, you just use feints, side-steps and sleight of hand to avoid being 'hurt' - again ,this shoud be interpreted at the emotional and soulful level even though it is presented in physical language. Meanwhile, outside of this energetic cameo, the world is in a mess and there are many, many problems that need to be solved through getting beyond the 'win/lose' paradigm. A different future is possible but the poem questions the 'will' of the alpha mammalian ('If you really want it'). Does the alpha mammalian simply enjoy fighting too much to give it up on behalf of a more sustainable future? We shall see. If you enjoyed this poem then you may also enjoy reading the article 'Coaching the Alpha Mammalian - see http://www.121partners.com/downloads/Coaching_the_Alpha_Mammalian.pdf )
And drop all defences,
Weapons that clatter to the floor,
But you keep coming at me,
To leave feints and whirls, ducks and dives,
We can play this game all day,
If you really want to,
If you really want to,
All those hours of sweaty practise,
Through raining blows,
Now you see me, now you don't,
We can play this game all day,
If you really want to,
If you really want to,
Yet outside the sun is shining,
The birds are singing,
God is creating in all his glory,
Children are crying for a better world,
Yelling for us to stop it,
Stop it now you foolish fighting men,
If you really want to,
If you really want to,
For a pregnant future awaits your choice,
If you really want it,
If you really want it.
(I was talking to a friend last week who is focussing her coaching work on 'helping Type A's achieve results without creating collateral damage'. Our conversation reminded me of this poem which is a metaphor for working with 'Alpha Mammalians'. Often such leaders are male but not exclusively so. This type of leader tends to want to 'fight' with you, if not physically then mentally. Everything is a competition and everything leads to either domination or being dominated, to win or lose, to victory or defeat. This is the only 'lens' through which they appear to view the world. With many years of t'ai chi training, I am familiar with t'ai chi as a self-defence technique and the poem visualises me employing self-defence techniques to avoid being 'defeated' but getting very tired of this 'game' to the point of giving up ('I open my palms, And drop all defences, Weapons that clatter to the floor'). Beyond this point, you just use feints, side-steps and sleight of hand to avoid being 'hurt' - again ,this shoud be interpreted at the emotional and soulful level even though it is presented in physical language. Meanwhile, outside of this energetic cameo, the world is in a mess and there are many, many problems that need to be solved through getting beyond the 'win/lose' paradigm. A different future is possible but the poem questions the 'will' of the alpha mammalian ('If you really want it'). Does the alpha mammalian simply enjoy fighting too much to give it up on behalf of a more sustainable future? We shall see. If you enjoyed this poem then you may also enjoy reading the article 'Coaching the Alpha Mammalian - see http://www.121partners.com/downloads/Coaching_the_Alpha_Mammalian.pdf )
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
New Born
These stories can be revealed,
Now that peace has broken the seal,
Our ancestors' fighting and our Mothers' screaming,
Are long ago in our consciousness,
We are rising like a cork escaping a wreck,
We are rising like a heaving chest,
We lay our shock at the door of the truth,
And know what we knew not,
Letting it pass like clouds and thunder rain.
A torrent of violent emotion spills us past,
Yet we are not drowning any more,
What once overwhelmed is now knee deep,
Retains no power, no vengeance, no recurrent tide,
What once hypnotised our vulnerable minds,
Now spins child-like to the floor,
A tantrum of a willful, unbridled nano-sense,
A belch in an eternity of grace,
A hiccup, a distortion, a perturbing crease,
Amidst the still, crisp perfection of cradling hands,
And so we lightly close the door,
On a child's last feint sobs and red stained eyes,
Inviting sleep to erase the day's devils, its dogma, its dramatic turns,
Trusting in the clean slate of tomorrow,
And in our forgetful, forgiving selves.
Trusting in the benigness of our Universal space,
And the first smile of a new born face.
(Well, what can I say about this poem? Like many of my poems, these words are about the possibility of transformation, of escaping from the past with all its frightening memories. Not just at an individual level but at a collective level. The poem describes a feeling of having emerged from a traumatic history to gain a new perspective and then leaving this history behind once and for all. The trigger for this possibility is a period of peace ('Now that peace has broken the seal'), the likes of which we have been fortunate to experience in our lifetimes in the Western world. A history which once overwhelmed us and controlled us and therefore was acted out over and over again is maybe no longer 'in the driving seat'. This history is likened to a child-like state of mind, a temporary stage from which we can 'grow up'. It is also positioned as a peculiarly human stage that we have created amongst a wider Universe that does not share our 'tantrums' but looks on and waits for it to pass, waits for 'normal service' to be resumed ('amidst the still, crisp perfection of cradling hands'). The poem closes with the image of a parent leaving an upset child just before they fall asleep. As every parent knows, the child wakes up in the morning having forgotten and forgiven, having wiped the slate clean, fresh, hopeful and smiling! A wonderful vision for the human race.)
Now that peace has broken the seal,
Our ancestors' fighting and our Mothers' screaming,
Are long ago in our consciousness,
We are rising like a cork escaping a wreck,
We are rising like a heaving chest,
We lay our shock at the door of the truth,
And know what we knew not,
Letting it pass like clouds and thunder rain.
A torrent of violent emotion spills us past,
Yet we are not drowning any more,
What once overwhelmed is now knee deep,
Retains no power, no vengeance, no recurrent tide,
What once hypnotised our vulnerable minds,
Now spins child-like to the floor,
A tantrum of a willful, unbridled nano-sense,
A belch in an eternity of grace,
A hiccup, a distortion, a perturbing crease,
Amidst the still, crisp perfection of cradling hands,
And so we lightly close the door,
On a child's last feint sobs and red stained eyes,
Inviting sleep to erase the day's devils, its dogma, its dramatic turns,
Trusting in the clean slate of tomorrow,
And in our forgetful, forgiving selves.
Trusting in the benigness of our Universal space,
And the first smile of a new born face.
(Well, what can I say about this poem? Like many of my poems, these words are about the possibility of transformation, of escaping from the past with all its frightening memories. Not just at an individual level but at a collective level. The poem describes a feeling of having emerged from a traumatic history to gain a new perspective and then leaving this history behind once and for all. The trigger for this possibility is a period of peace ('Now that peace has broken the seal'), the likes of which we have been fortunate to experience in our lifetimes in the Western world. A history which once overwhelmed us and controlled us and therefore was acted out over and over again is maybe no longer 'in the driving seat'. This history is likened to a child-like state of mind, a temporary stage from which we can 'grow up'. It is also positioned as a peculiarly human stage that we have created amongst a wider Universe that does not share our 'tantrums' but looks on and waits for it to pass, waits for 'normal service' to be resumed ('amidst the still, crisp perfection of cradling hands'). The poem closes with the image of a parent leaving an upset child just before they fall asleep. As every parent knows, the child wakes up in the morning having forgotten and forgiven, having wiped the slate clean, fresh, hopeful and smiling! A wonderful vision for the human race.)
Wednesday, 12 August 2009
Maybe its Going to be Alright?
What if it were going to be alright?
At the end of the day
What if you could not fail?
To live your life
To be yourself
What if it will all be taken care of?
With or without you
One way or another
What if it isn't your job?
To save the world
To make me happy
What if it really doesn't matter?
What you achieve
What you obtain
Who the hell you think you are?
In these imagined spaces of the psyche
The gaps between synapses yet to form
Lies a strange, unchartered path
A path which draws me into its mystery
Charms me with its innocence
What if I were to venture down its course?
In the glow of personal freedom
With the lightness of a baby step
What if the peace that laps at the edge of nothingness
Were a permanent ocean of joy magnificent?
(This poem was written whilst waiting for a flight in Heathrow's terminal 5 - a great space for writing! It is about faith and humility. The faith to trust that we don't need to strive fearfully, that other people are on their chosen path and that the world will keep spinning regardless of the human will. The faith that, despite our worries, it is just possible that we will die with a smile on our faces. The humility to recognise that our story, however dramatic, will be washed away in the blink of an eye. These ideas scare the ego silly and challenge existing belief systems. The 'gaps between the synapses' refers to the scope for new belief systems to be created in our minds, new beliefs that reflect these ideas. New links between neural synapses, new ways of thinking, new 'paths'. Creation. The 'nothingness' referred to in the last lines refers to the death of the ego. The 'joy magnificent' is the peace of God if that is a langauge that appeals to you)
At the end of the day
What if you could not fail?
To live your life
To be yourself
What if it will all be taken care of?
With or without you
One way or another
What if it isn't your job?
To save the world
To make me happy
What if it really doesn't matter?
What you achieve
What you obtain
Who the hell you think you are?
In these imagined spaces of the psyche
The gaps between synapses yet to form
Lies a strange, unchartered path
A path which draws me into its mystery
Charms me with its innocence
What if I were to venture down its course?
In the glow of personal freedom
With the lightness of a baby step
What if the peace that laps at the edge of nothingness
Were a permanent ocean of joy magnificent?
(This poem was written whilst waiting for a flight in Heathrow's terminal 5 - a great space for writing! It is about faith and humility. The faith to trust that we don't need to strive fearfully, that other people are on their chosen path and that the world will keep spinning regardless of the human will. The faith that, despite our worries, it is just possible that we will die with a smile on our faces. The humility to recognise that our story, however dramatic, will be washed away in the blink of an eye. These ideas scare the ego silly and challenge existing belief systems. The 'gaps between the synapses' refers to the scope for new belief systems to be created in our minds, new beliefs that reflect these ideas. New links between neural synapses, new ways of thinking, new 'paths'. Creation. The 'nothingness' referred to in the last lines refers to the death of the ego. The 'joy magnificent' is the peace of God if that is a langauge that appeals to you)
Sunday, 9 August 2009
Confessions of the Western Psyche
Wish I was born a black man,
Without the guilt of bleaching skin,
Wish I was born a Muslim,
Without the shame of Christian hands,
Wish I was born a woman,
Without the hard wired, violent head,
Wish I wasn't this demagogue, this hulking ego-beast,
Wish I wasn't a slave-master, an empire-builder thief,
Wish I hadn't dropped the A-bomb,
On all those yellow-skinned folk,
Wish I wasn't so clever,
So full of tricks and lies,
Wish I wasn't so far West,
That I am scared to kneel and pray,
But more, much more than this,
I just wish two thirds of the world could forgive me,
For 2,000 years of pain.
(This is an angry poem written from the perpsective of the WASP male - the White Anglo-Saxon Protestant male. That collective identity that has placed itself as the 'top dog' in the world and ensured that there were plenty of 'bottom dogs' on which to prey, whether that be on the grounds of gender, race or religion. And of course I am a WASP myself so I have this in me to some degree, it is in my genes and my conditioning. I know how it is possible to use the intellect as a means to post-rationalise loveless acts because I have done it myself and continue to do so to various degrees. For thirty years I too was too scared to 'kneel and pray' i.e. to admit the possibility that there might be something more powerful in the Universe than the human will and the human brain. If I can feel this anger in me at some level when I am one of the 'top dogs' myself then maybe it gives me a glimspe into how it feels to be have been on the other end of the cultural divide for 2,000 years. What anger lurks in those hidden depths?)
Without the guilt of bleaching skin,
Wish I was born a Muslim,
Without the shame of Christian hands,
Wish I was born a woman,
Without the hard wired, violent head,
Wish I wasn't this demagogue, this hulking ego-beast,
Wish I wasn't a slave-master, an empire-builder thief,
Wish I hadn't dropped the A-bomb,
On all those yellow-skinned folk,
Wish I wasn't so clever,
So full of tricks and lies,
Wish I wasn't so far West,
That I am scared to kneel and pray,
But more, much more than this,
I just wish two thirds of the world could forgive me,
For 2,000 years of pain.
(This is an angry poem written from the perpsective of the WASP male - the White Anglo-Saxon Protestant male. That collective identity that has placed itself as the 'top dog' in the world and ensured that there were plenty of 'bottom dogs' on which to prey, whether that be on the grounds of gender, race or religion. And of course I am a WASP myself so I have this in me to some degree, it is in my genes and my conditioning. I know how it is possible to use the intellect as a means to post-rationalise loveless acts because I have done it myself and continue to do so to various degrees. For thirty years I too was too scared to 'kneel and pray' i.e. to admit the possibility that there might be something more powerful in the Universe than the human will and the human brain. If I can feel this anger in me at some level when I am one of the 'top dogs' myself then maybe it gives me a glimspe into how it feels to be have been on the other end of the cultural divide for 2,000 years. What anger lurks in those hidden depths?)
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