Swami Veda

This is from Swami Veda's book, Superconscious Meditation, an excellent introductory book on meditation. This particular passage comes from the chapter on the purification of the personality.

"The first step in the washing of the mind is the recognition of these stains in oneself. Unfortunately, each one of us has the habit of first denying and then justifying their presence. The steps in this process of purification are as follows:

1. Ceasing to deny their presence.
2. Ceasing to justify their presence.
3. Not feeling guilty of their presence but working on purification.

Recognizing one's imprefection is like recognizing the faults in a motor vehicle one is driving. As soon as one becomes aware of faulty steering or faulty brakes, he takes steps to make the repairs so that he may reach his destination. Similarly, as soon as one becomes aware of one's painful thoughts, he recognizes that they arise because of conflicts of duality and the dichotomies that he himself has created. Through meditation he learns to depend less and less on the external reality. As the Lawbook of Manu says, the only definiton of pain and pleasure is that dependence is pain and nondependence is pleasure. When one depends on things in his surroundings for establishing his identity, the dependence causes painful reactions in the mind because the self is not dependent on anything else for its light and continuously seeks to overcome the dependence of the physical personality on the material environment. This is what creates the dichotomy. Through meditation one realizes: my worth is not in my professional accomplishments, hairstyling, color of dress or number of money bills deposited in my name at the bank. It is not even in my name, because the names are also transitory, mere assumptions of the parents accepted by the rest of society. Poor or rich, tall or short, handsome or ugly, successful or a failure in the chosen profession, these are mere conditions of the external personality and not of the self. "

Carbondale Horses

And now for a completely different kind of poem.

Carbondale Horses
By Big Frank Dickinson

Carbondale horses went out on the plains
in search of mandatory retirement plans;
but the potential reach of these nets
did not satisfy the inbred hair trigger reaction of a well-trained steed.
Nonetheless, with sun setting, and trails a blazing --
typical western scene in many ways -
they bought in; but immediately realized that
the plot had changed, as it often does, by the random interloper,
who in leaping on one carbondale’s back, rode herd over them all, and
before they knew it, into a dusty town of accountants they were.

It all got very conversational at this point,
with lots of “Oh wells”, and “Like I saids”, and “You betchas”,
which was all very reassuring for the moment, but
action demanded more than that and took one horse away,
prompting an investigation, which through flashbacks and
other clichés of that sort brought them all back to the plains -
long shot of horses in retirement dreams, missing horse on a tray.

Interior Design

Here's a new poem by Big Frank. He has borrowed the tone and something of the approach from Wisława Szymborska's poetry. He's not sure exactly which of her poems pushed him, but she was there.

Interior Design
By Big Frank Dickinson

The organs all fit nicely in place,
not that the owner had anything to do with it,
being a pre-furnished unit and all -
color scheme - traditional blue and pink,
somehow appropriate for interior colors.
And while the quarters are cramped in the extreme,
there doesn't seem to be anything that could be gotten rid of
without disrupting everything else.
The plumbing fixtures seem to work OK,
but the design has restricted choices
in many other areas, most noticeably the head and heart.
There is definitely one major problem:
the alarm system’s signal keeps getting stuck,
sometimes for days at a time, and the signal is way too loud.
However, the reverse is very nice indeed, and so perhaps
it would be best to keep the system as it is.
It's unclear why the windows are one-way only –
although many outside give the appearance of seeing in.
However, because the door is missing, visitations
have to be done through the window, kind of like in prison.
It's odd, I wonder if the designer's aware:
there's only room for one in here.

Fishy Love

Love Song (Smelt)
By Dan Chiasson

When I say “you” in my poems, I mean you.
I know it’s weird: we barely met.
You must hear this all the time, being you.

That night we were at opposite ends of
The long table, after the pungent
Russian condiments, the carafes of tarragon vodka,

The chafing dishes full of boiled smelts
I was a little drunk: after you left,
I ate the last smelt off your dirty plate.

And now for the travesty – as usual by Big Frank:

Mussel Song (Love)
By Big Frank Dickinson

When I leave it unsaid in my poems, I mean you.
It’s entirely understandable – for you.
After all so much went unsaid, being us.

Sitting in the corner (where the TV used to be)
in the house turned into an Italian Restaurant,
you ordered mussels after glasses of some kind of red,

They arrived wet; sent back . . returned dry.
You offered me one at the end.
I tried to eat – but, it wouldn’t open.

Robert Frost - beginning and ending

Dan Chiasson wrote a beautiful poem starting with a line from Robert Frost. Big Frank will try the same, only while Chiasson began with Frost, Big Frank will end with him.

First of all here is Chiasson’s poem:

Poem Beginning With a Line From Frost
By Dan Chiasson

as if regret were in it and were sacred
as if regret itself were a river a want

that was the source of the river flowed
through the river, more and more the more

the river thickened towards the boring lake
where what stirred once was terribly quiet

This is indistinguishable from happiness.
This standing water was a mindful current once.

Once was a mindful current now leaden still;
it is ourselves we most resemble, now. Now

the maples that had been nowhere gather. When
we look down what we look down on is our own.


A Poem Ending With Two Lines from Frost
By Big Frank Dickinson

The Rules of Engagement were set,
But this isn't a war they controlled.
It was in fact disengagement, retreat;
Halt; . . . be at unease . . .
One heart no longer seeking
And one beating, not through.
If all battles followed these rules,
No casualties would ensue, for there
Would be no meeting of forces –
No mutual assured destruction, no
Mutual assured anything -
And so with nowhere to go,
One force marched in formation:
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question “Whither?”

Supine Sleeper

The Dug-Out
By Siegfried Sassoon

Why do you lie with your legs ungainly huddled,
And one arm bent across your sullen cold,
Exhausted face? It hurts my heart to watch you,
Deep shadow’d from the candle’s guttering gold;
And you wonder why I shake you by the shoulder;
Drowsy, you mumble and sigh and turn your head . . .
You are too young to fall asleep forever;
And when you sleep you remind me of the dead.


Big Frank Dickinson’s Travesty of The Dug-Out

Supine Sleeper
By Big Frank Dickinson

Why do you lie on your back so exposed,
Gazing with closed eyes at the ceiling, with
Peacefully resolved face? What do you see?
It hurts my heart to remember,
How at your side I read that peaceful pose;
And you alarmed at my unease.
Your hooded gaze is upward still . . .
But too far now for me to see,
Supine sleeper alone unread.

The Green Army Men

Big Frank has Green Army Men for knick knacks. They don't like it, but then again they really don't have anything to say about it. Green Army Men will stand where you put them and militantly do their duty. The thing about these guys is that they never give up. They have a posture that never changes, and the worst that you can do is to knock them over. But even in this state they maintain their stance.

Emily's "HOPE" and Big Frank's "DISILLUSIONMENT"

Well Big Frank hasn't heard any objections to the recent Dickinson travesty so here's another one. First Emily - she does some wonderful stuff with abstract virtues. Here's her take on "hope".

LXXXVI
By Emily Dickinson

Hope is a subtle glutton;
He feeds upon the fair;
And yet, inspected closely,
What abstinence is there!

His is the halcyon table
That never seats but one,
And whatsoever is consumed
The same amounts remain.

This is a tough one - in that there really isn't much to work with. It is all very abstract. Hope at the table alone taking in and taking in, but never consumating the meal. Well Big Frank turned the last one around, so let's try it again this time. South of hope is disillusionment so let's try that. And to ease the task a bit - let's allow a little more phrasing lattitude, but keep to a neat metaphor in two stanzas on a downer abstraction.

Disillusionment
By Big Frank Dickinson

Disillusionment a confident gambler;
Easy determination; no risk;
And yet, inspected closely,
What faltering there is.

His is the visioned gain;
That image drives him on;
But truth dispells the trance;
And will sprawls shattered, gone.

The Dickinsons - Emily and Big Frank

Big Frank turns back to poetry and the travesties – as he terms them – of poems. Here is a great poem by Emily Dickinson (no relation to Big Frank that he is aware of) on the nature of worry and how it pales in comparison to what actually comes.

XCVIII
By Emily Dickinson

While I was fearing it, it came,
But came of less of fear,
Because that fearing is so long
Had almost made it dear,
There is a fitting, a dismay,
A fitting, a despair,
‘T harder is knowing it is due,
Than knowing it is here,
The trying on the utmost,
The morning it is new,
Is terribler than wearing it
A whole existence through.

And now for something completely different – the travesty. Here Big Frank turns Emily Dickinson on her head. She writes a poem dispelling worry by showing how it is not warranted by its future cause. Big Frank writes of the growth of a haunting tune of worry that follows in the wake of its cause.

Echo
By Big Frank Dickinson

While I was hearing it, it went,
But went of less than gone,
And nestled in my mind a bit
Invited to stay on,
Soon a melody, a chant,
A harmony, a dirge,
Receding first then not at all,
In repetition it does surge,
The echos in the memory,
That oft repeated merge,
And terribler than hearing it
Retrieves what it does urge.

Marcus Aurelius

Marcus Aurelius Antoniunus Augustus – better know today as simply Marcus Aurelius was born in 121 and died in 190. He was Roman Emperor from 161 until he died. Not only was he an emperor but is also generally acknowledged today as one of the great stoic philosophers. He is chiefly known today for The Meditations – written between 170 and 180.

Transience, integrity, the long view, personal responsibility, and acceptance: these are some threads that run through The Meditations. It is definitely a world in which whining did not belong. There is a repeated mention of “The Logos” – the word – the way things are. The wise person goes with that flow and doesn’t piss and moan about it. It helps, in Marcus Aurelius’ view to be now and to see things in the amplitude of time and space. That, at first blush, does seem a contradiction – be in this small gap between the tick and the tock, and at the same time, from outside time and space, see yourself in the fullness of time and in the speck of space that we truly inhabit. There is certain nobility to the acceptance of what has been served up; within the knowledge of the strengths of the mind, the enduring nature we all have, and the flux that will transform us.

Here are a few of his choice quotations:

“Forget everything else. Keep hold of this alone and remember it: Each of us lives only now, this brief instant. The rest has been lived already or is impossible to see. The span we live is small – small as the corner of the earth in which we live.”

“Never regard something as doing you good if it makes you betray a trust, or loose your sense of shame, or makes you show hatred, suspicion, ill-will, or hypocrisy, or a desire for things best done behind closed doors. If you can privilege your own mind, your guiding spirit and your reverence for its powers, that should keep you clear of dramatics, wailing and gnashing of teeth. You won’t need solitude or a cast of thousands either. Above all you’ll be free of desire.”

“Ignoring what goes on in other people’s souls – no one ever came to grief that way. But if you can’t keep track of what your own soul’s doing, how can you not be unhappy?"

“Dig deep; the water – goodness, is down there; and as long as you keep digging it will keep bubbling up.”

“To watch the courses of the stars as if you revolved with them. To keep constantly in mind of how the elements alter into one another. Thoughts like this wash off the mud of life below.”

Imps and Masks

The Imp
By Big Frank Dickinson

The imp asks for an out;
A shout ignored in the waiting crowd,
And the guy with the thing on his head,
Mumbles to nobody about the outrage
He cannot accept.

The leaves respond to an
Unseen push and loudly whisper
A response that soothes you, but
Troubles the tree.

The masks seen from the outside
Are seen as for another;
The “interhumanity” –
Works for us . . . or does it?

One of Neil Young's Greatest Songs

Neil has seen both sides of life. Here's a great song he wrote on disappointment, and while in this song it is about the disappointment of love, I do not include it for that reason. This is not a personal statement; and it's not about disappointing love. It is included because of the recurrying meeting with disappointment - somethinig that we are all familiar with, and the reaction to it: "This time might be the last." Shake hands, maybe a few times, but then - say good bye to Mr Disappointment. It is also included because of the beauty of the song, Big Frank can't include the tune, but encourages everyone to listen (It's on his CD, Are You Passionate). My brother loves this song, and it's included here for him: "This time might be the last."

MR DISAPPOINTMENT

Where did all the feelings go?
What about that happy glow?
Was that so long ago,
When we were first in love?
I didn't feel the change,
Everything was still the same.
And when that moment came,I didn't know.
I miss the feeling, I miss the light,
But I got faith in something,
I'll never give up the fight.
Why's it so heavy,
This love of mine,
I lost the feeling,
I lost the time.

I'd like to shake your hand, Disappointment.
Looks like you win again,
But this time might be the last.

Let's say I got a habit,
Let's say it's hard to break,
Let's say we got to do something,
Before it's just too late.
I want to get you back,
I don't know how to do that, I miss you loving me,
The way you used to.
I'm taking the blame myself,
For livin' my life in a shell,
And now I'm breakin' out,
But will you still be there?
Let's say that love is blind,
Let's say that time is kind,
Let's say that it's not over,'
Til it's over.

I'd like to shake your hand,
Disappointment.
Looks like you win again,
But this time might be the last.

I'm saving the best for last,
Let's leave this all in the past,
The beauty of loving you,
Is what we've both been through.
So now it's up to me,
To set your spirit free,
So you can swing again,
On our gate.

I'd like to shake your hand,
Disappointment.
Looks like you win again,
But this time might be the last.

If you wait long enough . . .

Yeah, if you wait long enough it all comes back again. Remember when people ironed their jeans? Well, they're doing it again.

Values Mapped

Here's a map that shows how a large number of basic values are correlated fora number of countries throughout the world, and can be shown via two dimensions: (1) Traditional/ Secular-rational and (2) Survival/Self-expression values. For more interesting maps, surveys, and graphs on values see http://www.worldvaluessurvey.org/

More great maps

Here are two examples some of the great maps that are availible on this blog:

http://strangemaps.wordpress.com/ Click on them to enlarge, or better yet visit the blog and get it all.