In a Nutshell

The science of desire: Gravity

The theosophy of desire: Attachment

The dysfunction of desire: Obsession

The consequences of desire: Everything

Seven

We are ever walking to deep water

heavy with stones around our necks,

sunk by the heft of the legend that

we’re images of God, counterfeits

of the Cosmic Knowing.

 

Each of us, an upright man

struggling to stand in roiling eddys,

eroding then to the river bottom

sanding the banks with the grit of our souls,

a coterie of memory, of stories, of lives

we had dreamed we lived, before

planting ourselves into the marsh

waiting for purposeful grasses to grow

up from the jagged seams of our skulls,

while rapids rush just overhead where

we’ve created small turbulences,

but are no longer there to comment on them.

Thirty Pieces

Your lips were still fragrant with hyssop when

you descended into hell looking for me,

finding that even Satan would not

harbor a traitor.

And after the stone had rolled away,

you went into the world again

searching for the infidel.

 

I felt you coming, your footfall quaking,

heard you calling for me,  speaking a name

that had become  a sibilant curse.

With every age  you were closing in.

 

For centuries I have waited,  dreading

the encounter,  fashioning excuses,

justifying the hardest regret.

It was never about the money;

people give money away for the asking.

But approval, now this is a treasure

obtained only with some strategy.

You knew me better than I knew myself.

You knew that for all my talk about the cost of things,

I didn’t understand their worth.

 

I prayed that God would

shut my mouth, that if

I must blurt out the truth,

it would be for the sake of righteousness.

But in those days, and for lifetimes to come

my cursed mouth has been the ruiner of secrets.

 

At last, the day of reckoning dawns,

and there is nowhere else to hide.

So here we are, in this hour of the damned.

And in your loving, magnanimous way,

you have come all this way to cut me down from the tree

and release me from the weight of silver.

Currency

I received a credit card receipt recently on which the patron wrote:  “Currency is Love. Thank you!”

This reminded me of of a point Robert Scheinfeld made in his book “Busting Loose From the Money Game.”

He explains that if money were taken out of the equation in the exchange of goods and services, what remains is gratitude for receiving a good or service.  If you’re not actually  bartering, paying, or exchanging any thing, you would still express appreciation for whatever you have received. Right?

I’m trying to be aware that when I write a check, charge a purchase, or hand over cash for something, that I’m not spending, wasting, giving away, or losing anything. The act of ‘paying’ money is in fact how we receive something we want or need. It is the symbolic way of saying ‘thank you’. Thank you, Pacific Power & Electric, for illuminating my home and keeping it warm. Thank you Chase, for loaning me funds for vacations, dinners, and other things. Thank you Comcast, for the entertaining and education programming you provide.

Perspective is everything. Spending money is receiving.

Receiving is providence.

Currency is Love.

 

127 Hours…and Counting

I finally  saw 127 hours, and it was as stirring as I had imagined. Only a few hours into his predicament, Aron Ralston (James Franco) had tried to free himself by scraping  away at the boulder which had pinned his arm against the rock wall.  It was an inferior tool engaged in a futile task, but it gave him hope in the moment that it might be the solution. He dropped the tool, and had some difficulty reaching it to resume his work. He now had to devise a way to retrieve the knife in order to continue to scrape away at the rock. With his foot, he lowered a branch, and after several attempts, finally hooked the knife. Franco conveyed a sense of accomplishment and joy that belied his character’s dire situation. His face lit up with excitement, like he had just won the lottery, he exclaims, “Sweet!”. His stay in the canyon would be marked by a number of minor triumphs, and dismal failures.

At the time, he couldn’t know how that knife would the instrument o f his liberation. But at the time, he had an idea about how he could extricate himself with the knife by chipping the stone. Then he had an idea about using a pulley. Then got an idea about how to stay hydrated without fresh water. All these things were tiny victories throughout his ordeal.

What am I pinning my hopes on? What is my salvation? Is there a tool within my reach that will eventually set me free, but in a way I cannot, or dare not imagine?

He realized at one point that his whole life had been pulling him toward this rock, and that this rock had emerged in all of creation, placed on a trajectory  moving towards this meeting as well. This was Ralston’s destiny. This was the boulder’s destiny. He understood that he had arrived at this place from choices he had made. He never blamed anyone. He got there by himself, and was determined to get out under his own steam.

In the end, he wasn’t freed from the rock. He had never been pinned by the rock. His arm was pinned. He wasn’t. He chose to leave that part of him behind. His arm wasn’t him, and wasn’t necessary in his moving forward.

Ralston’s story compels me to wonder what do I need to leave behind? Is there a part of me that is more detrimental to me as long as it’s attached, than it is useful?  Cutting this thing away is never easy or painless, but it is always an option. Ralston’s willingness to experience pain is what ultimately released him.

No matter how things appear, there is a way out.