Place of Refuge

Place of Refuge

31 May 2011

The Revolt Against the Short Life of the iPhone


I'm a very strange chick;
I'll admit that myself.
I can stand in some guy's garage and talk
technology, and actually make sense,
but I also go
way out there, deep into some other domain,
sometimes.


Those are my most vulnerable times.
I know that now.

Sometimes I make decisions that even I,
a true chick at her core
despite the brain that is wired
precisely,
like a guy's,
don't understand at first.


But shortly thereafter, the wisdom of whatever wacky decision I just made
often becomes apparent.

Today I made one of those extraordinarily bizarre decisions,
that kind of decision that would make most people cringe.


I got rid of my iPhone.
The thing lasted two years - precisely the length
of the contract - and at that point
when the two year contract was over
(or, in their terms, "up for renewal"), 
at that very instant,
my beloved iPhone
transformed into another entity:


it would get frozen and stuck;
it would drop phone calls;
no one could hear me on the other end!;
it would erase all my contacts
for no reason whatsoever; 
it would not open certain apps
(like Facebook and even this blog)
that it used to open mightily.

It had reached the point
of obsolescence.

Of course,
both A, T & T and Verizon
now loomed as potential providers
of the next version of the iPhone,
and another two year plan.

~ ~ ~

So I thought about it:

I thought about the $100.00 I have been forking out every month to ATT for a particular kind of plan
with texting and five friends and the data plan,
and this was for a phone that never worked at my mother's house,
and that was now quite unreliable,
after fulfilling its requisite 2 years.

And I thought about the new MacBook Pro I just purchased
(yowza!)
and I thought about the number of times
in any given day
that my iPhone let me
check my Facebook status,
or the weather in Uruguay,
or the phases of the moon,
or playing some stupid game where I had to use little birds
to knock off monkeys.


And I decided to go get myself a simple talk plan
and what the Verizon sales person called
a "dumb phone."

But I was attracted to not just any dumb phone:
I got myself a Contracter's Phone,
and I think it was the practical
guy side of my brain
that instructed me to do this--
I figured it would be harder to break,
have good speaker phone,
and not risk getting stolen,
and also, I really liked the look of it.



And I am bedazzled:
the phone comes with useful accessories,
like a flashlight or a compass,
not to mention a modest GPS and the program that plays YouTube videos;
and a nice strong case,
and a good camera,
and very good speaker phone,
not to mention the fact that if I have a friend who has one like it,
we can use our phones like walkee talkies.

These activities compose, for me,
about 80% of the things I found myself using
on the iPhone,
and added one that I'd never dreamed of before!
(With the only significant absence being
the absence of the ability to play music,
but I do own an iPod, too.
Silly me.)


So I sold the old sluggish iPhone
back to Verizon, and got $70.00 taken
off my contractor's phone,
and got the thing for $140.00,
with a coupon for another $50.00 off.
Moving to a basic talk plan
will cut my phone bill nearly in half,
and I have this awesome phone!


I think I have the material here to start a 
counter-attack to the domination of the iPhone and now the Droid
on the "cool" cell phone list.

People who are cool
have Basic Plans and Contractor's Phones,

and can walk down the street talking to each other
like they're on walkie talkies.

If all the iPhone users
opted to go this way 
after two years,
we may be able to force Apple
to create an iPhone that lasts
three or four years
and/or can survive
the work of a contractor for that long.


Thus I declare the beginning of the
revolt against the tyranny of the iPhone
on the "cool" market.



(Now, I know that any contractors out there
are reading this and thinking:
I knew that all along, crazy chick!
and my response to that is:

you're right,
and I consider myself chastened, because
now I can clearly see
that those phones that Verizon lovingly calls "dumb"
are really some of the smartest phones
of all!


28 May 2011

Makropoulos Sings?


Well, 
I've been calling myself a diva,
and I've wanted to try to make
a video of my own singing.

So here it is:

Please note:
this was done in one track,
on GarageBand,
and is far from professional level.
Also please note:
in this particular lifetime that I'm occupying,
I am not a professional singer,
but rather,
an academic who loves to sing,
and strums with mediocrity
on her old guitar.

But the point of the song
is a good one to make:




I sincerely hope that no one gets upset for copyright purposes!
Please contact me through my Facebook page
(Makro Makropoulos),
if you feel I've infringed upon you in any way,
and I will remove this immediately.

25 May 2011

Virtual Choir


Usually, it seems to me,
when we see a group of pictures
of random collected faces we don't know,
captured in their brightest and most expressive moments,
it's because they were all killed together,
in a disaster of some sort,
and we are being asked to memorialize them.

 ( wben )

We live in an age of disasters,
and we learn about them way too quickly,
because of this powerful tool called
the internet.


The internet itself,
and the quick proliferation of information,
may be one of the reasons why we all feel
like we're approaching Armageddon.
(Is it Armageddon yet?  Perhaps it's already here.)

However, the internet
also has the power
to produce a collective impression
that is powerful and peaceful and
good.

Like this:


Projects give me hope
that not only can we experience the Apocalypse,
but we can live through it
and come out the other side
as a choir of angels.

22 May 2011

Two Parts (a channelling)

(well, about a week ago,
or less,
Makropoulos said she was done
with channelling,
and crazy convoluted entries.
Well, she lied.)
( noaa )

The sun and the material world (earth, moon, etc.)
are two parts of a whole
                  a hole whole
two parts have we
                       a yes and a no
two parts, equally:

the burning and the devouring,

the exploding and the imploding

the male and the female

are two parts of a whole,
                    a hole whole.
like
The sun and the material world.
The sun that we see
is the shimmering burning edges
of immortality;

it is the tearing tearing exit from
the void 
out of which we were produced;
the sun is the last thing
we saw when we
aborted, when we were propelled forth
from the womb of the
eternal,
when the 

whole
produced a hole
in which we were born --
we, being the substantial essence
of the whole that is both nothing
and all.

The sun and the material world
(earth, moon, etc.)
are two parts of a whole
a hole whole,
two parts have we
a yes and a no:

two parts, equally.

21 May 2011

Rapture Prayer


. . . and if it is to be
that today the world
will cease to spin
for just a second, long enough
for a select few to get off,
lord,
let me be smiling when it comes;
let me be joyous and doing good.
No frowns,
no hatred,
no despair;
no loneliness,
no anger
hate or fear
should linger in my soul
when the passageway 
opens up.

For no one should carry sadness
to the Other Side.

And if by chance
you and I 
should meet on these same streets
tomorrow,
let me be smiling when you come;
let me be joyous and doing good.
No frowns,
no hatred,
no despair;
no loneliness,
no anger
hate or fear
should linger in my soul
when I see your face
again.

And if we live with that
in mind,
we can make heaven here on earth,
for all time
as long as time
shall be.

Rachel Goodrich: Diva For the Rapture



Abe: A Channelling


So much is spinning inside
me, as I sit
so placid,
                knowing
that if I find happiness
in even the least happy
day,
I will be happy; in fact,
I will die happy
if I can find happiness
in even the most unhappy day.
That's why
it is wise to laugh at funerals,
much wiser than to sob,
because if you're laughing at a funeral,
you're sending that soul off
on wings of joy.

~ ~ ~

For how much longer
will we send souls off
on wings of tears,
or worse yet,
empty wings---
this is the pain produced by the terrorist.
                         The terrorist is he
who has made it his role
to act out the anger
produced by the collective pain of an abused people.

The terrorist who is murdered
is a martyr,
whether we like it or not,
because he was bold enough to act out
the agonized pain of his oppressed people.
No matter how evil his deeds,
some of his people will still applaud him
and laud him.

We can stop the cycle, and I'll tell you how --
stop oppressing Muslim people.

( universitywaterloo )
For how long has the world oppressed Muslims?
Their religion is as valid as any other; it is
the sister religion to Judaism & Christianity.

Surely,
they have killed;
they have hurt us
deeply.
But did you ever stop
to think about
how long we have abused and oppressed them, our brothers and sisters?
Though we say it rarely
our Books tell us that we
should think of our religions
as siblings, born of Abraham,
stemming from the two races
produced by he:
                the children of Isaac
                       and
               the children of Ismael.

And herein, my friends,
lies the core of the contention between
the three Abramic religions:

Who was there?  On that mountain top at the foot
of raging flames set by the father,
was it Isaac?
was it Ishmael?

Did it ever cross our minds to think
that it was both?
that they both stood there, and their weary sad father's command
was to burn them both:
that's what his Master,
the God of Abraham told him:
offer them both up to me
so I can see 
how much you love me.

?

Anyway,
so many of us are the distant offspring of
that nasty threesome:
Sarah, Abraham, and Hagar.

Some of us trace our dominant
roots to Sarah's womb,
and some
to Hagar's but
in general, we all have the same distant
paternal line:
Abe.

blogs.pitch


We're basically all
brothers and sisters,
distantly,
who fight, bitterly, because
once upon a time,
someone told the story wrong,
either purposefully or not,
and when they told it wrong,
there was only one son there.

Of course, if you're one of
Isaac's brood, you'd say
your dad was there,
thereby
pissing off your Uncle Ishmael's family
so much that they
start spreading the story that it was their father who was there.

But since no one else was there,
except Abe, Isaac, Ishmael,
a goat, and God,
well, no one could witness and amend.

So

I tell you now:  both the boys were there,
their knees trembling,
Isaac crying uncontrollably because
he was the younger,
oh such a sweet-faced boy
(he looked like his beautiful mother),
who knew that what his father was about
to do was horrible.
And his elder brother, too,
trembled but did not want to show
his little brother the fear
that gripped him.

They gripped each other,
knowing
that they both would die together in
the growing, devouring fire.
And their father, so singular
and certain.  It was his God
that commanded him.  Though
their mothers both had begged
him not to listen to that Voice.
But Abraham listened to his God,
who drove him
up that mountain.

That was how it happened, and those two boys knew
that they were dead,
hopelost,
embers.  They stared
into the fire and they knew it
was their grave, and they took
some comfort from that, that is

until their father fell
to his knees and heard
his God gain heart.
The goat bleated with the same
relief as the boys, when it
saw the burning flames --

the goat became the sacrifice, meat
for the raging God,
and the boys skipped down the moutain,
closer now than they had ever been before.

They were both saved,
by a God who loved them both,
loved them all.

Oh, Isaac surely
did some special things with his father
that Ishmael did not do;
Oh, Ishmael too
did some very special things with his father,
that Isaac did not do.

They both gave birth to nations.
It was in the writing
of the story
that the problem began.

That story held one of the earliest
blatant, premeditated
lies,
fictionalized to valorize
the teller,
and not the tale.

The tale
we've all participated in.
But the one brother,
the younger,
more frightened brother
wrote his side of
the story down first.  He
repeated it again and again
to his wide-eyed, naieve
gang of children.  Oh,
it was a great story,
and most of it was true,
except one minor detail.


Who was there.


Of course, if you and your brother or sister shared
the most horrifying and life confirming experience
of your lives together,
and your sibling told it and failed
to mention you were there, too,

wouldn't you be mad? 
Deeply hurt you'd be,
in the depths of your soul, because
you loved him so; so much
you loved him, you even
offered to die
if your father would only
let him live.

But it never came to that because
God is merciful and saved you both.

But he turned on you,
and told a lie,
and told it so well,
they believed him; I mean he was,
after all, the legitimate son,
and you were just the bastard.

But you were both there; I tell it right
right now.
Both of the "I"s spawned
by ol' Abe.

And you've been fighting ever since,
and it's time to stop,  because you,
the heirs of Isaac
have been tormenting the heirs of Ishmael
for too long.
This is why
we suffer terror.  His family is finally
striking back violently,
after centuries of being called
the evil, the profane,
the wrong, the insane,
the heirs of Ishmael
finally had enough.

It happens at every level of society:
in the family home,
in the clannish group,
in the extended clan,
in the racial nation,
in the human race:

we all mimic the rivalry of kin, both
witihin our ranks,
and between each other;
we all bear
and will continue to bear
the sins of our fathers
until
we can honestly acknowledge them
and forgive.


Forgive all.  Kill
no more; never
send another soul weeping to the heavens again.
From now on
only send every human souls with joy, the greatest
joy we can muster at the death of one
who shares with us the same
living, loving heritage
of humanity.

17 May 2011

May 21, 2011 - The Rapture?

Since I do write a fair amount
about 12212012,
I'm moved to make a comment on 
this 05212011 doomsday theory:



Well, I'll tell ya'
I'll lay money on the fact I'll be here
May 22, 2011,
and so will you;
and I predict
there will be no world wide 6:00 p.m. earthquake,
and no rapture.

~  ~  ~  ~

Now,
I may be proven wrong, and if I am proven wrong,
and there really is a rapture,
than you have every right to stop
reading this blog.
In fact, I should probably stop writing it then,
too.

If there is a worldwide earthquake
on May 21, and a rapture, and you notice that
I have stopped writing this blog,
you can conclude that one of two possible scenarios has occurred:
1.
I was actually swept up
in the rapture,
and I'm gone to a better place
with Allison (see video above)

or

2.
I have discovered I haven't been saved,
and I'm a detestable sinner,
and I'm cowering in embarrassment
in the corner over the fact
I was wrong; 
I'll be
gnashing my teeth in horror
and agony
over my doom.

Quite frankly, though, it's possible that
if the world wide earthquake is bad enough,
we'll lose the internet,
and all forms of communication,
then all my words written here
will have been in vain.

(University of Western Ontario)

In many ways,
Makropoulos is a blog about
how to live fully and with integrity
during a time of great change,
and potential endings.

And I sincerely believe that
it really will not serve us at all
to plan our next few days too selectively,
as we ready for this potential 
rapture.
We should just live in every moment
truthfully and with goodness
as our primary goal.

We should treat each person and situation
we encounter with honesty
and respect and humility,
never once passing judgement 
on anyone else.

(You can read other entries here,
under the label "love",
"peace",
and 11/11/11,
about how I propose we should live 
during an end time.)

Then, quite frankly, 
if the end comes
on Saturday
or Sunday
or tomorrow
or even 
tonight
we will be able to face
our maker honestly,
and hope she will treat us fairly.


And Abraham drew near, and said,
Wilt thou also destroy the righteous
with the wicked?
Suppose there are fifty righteous within the city;
wilt thou also destroy and not spare
the place for the fifty righteous
that are in it?
That be far from thee to do after this manner,
to slay the righteous with the wicked:
and that the righteous should be as the wicked,
that be far from thee.  Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?

And the Lord said, If I find in Sodom fifty righteous within the city,
then I will spare all the place for their sakes. . .
[ . . . ]
And he [Abraham] said: Behold now, I have taken upon me
to speak unto the Lord: Suppose there shall be twenty
found there.  And he [the Lord] said, 
I will not destroy it for twenty's sake.

And he said, Oh, let not the Lord be angry, and
I will speak yet but this once:
Suppose ten shall be there.  And he said,
I will not destroy it for ten's sake.
The Bible, Genesis, 18:23 - 33.

Therefore be ye also ready;
for in such an hour as ye think not
the Son of man cometh.
The Bible,  Matthew 24:44

 
Indeed, those that submit to God
and do good works shall be
recompensed by their Lord:
they shall have nothing to fear
or to regret.
The Koran "The Cow"  2:112


Man's life, however great and spiritual,
has its limitations.  Before some conditions in life
even the greatest man on earth,
the most powerful soul,
will for a moment seem helpless.
But it is not the beginning that counts,
it is the end.
It is the last note that a great soul strikes
which proves the soul
to be real and true.
(Hazrat Inaayat Khan:
The Unity of Religious Ideals, p. 159)

15 May 2011

Body and Soul


"You don't have a soul; you are a soul.
You have a body."
C. S. Lewis

I was at a religious service this morning
that was wholly based upon the above quote.
And I can't agree with it more.

And I just had to post it here.
Those of you who have waded through
some of my past entries, may recall what I've said about our bodies
as our avatars, in the very same sense that humans slipped into other wordly
skin in the film Avatar.  
And that is, 
fundamentally,
what Lewis is saying above.

Specifically, it reminds me of something that I,
Makropoulos,
wrote in a much earlier entry on Second Life:

"You see, I feel that I'm already
in an avatar. 
This body,
I live in,
is my earthly
avatar,
it's the form I chose
to use for 
this stretch of time
on this earthly domain.

I have enough trouble,
and enough fun,
negotiating this earthly
avatar,
why the hell would I need another?"
 And I really believe this is true.
We are spiritual essences,
sent to spend a little time
in the material domain.


We're sort of sent on a mission,
the same way the humans were sent on missions
in the film Avatar.
This is why I thought that film
was pretty fabulous,
but also pretty funny,
because it had humans
getting into another form
so they could return to the garden,
so to speak. 
(I write about that elsewhere, too.  Please follow links
to the word "avatar" on the side or below
if you want to see more
of my rambling thoughts
on this.)



The humour of it all is two-fold:
#1: I really believe we are already in avatars,  Our avatar
is a human body.  My cat's avatar is a feline body.  But we are all 
part of the same shared spirit that is our origin.  (So why the hell put on 
another avatar, if you're already in one?)

#2:  Notably, when we were put into these human avatars,
we were already in The Garden. The problem is:
we got caught up in thinking that The Garden,
and Our Bodies (aka: Avatars) constitute Everything,
when in fact they're just constituents of a Larger Whole
(that no human could perceive.)  But of course
we as Humans
have fucked up our Earthly Paradise so much
thinking that we were the Be-All and End-All,
and so now we make movies about 
putting on primitive avatars
so we can live in The Garden,
again.
 ~ ~

"You don't have a soul; you are a soul.
You have a body."
C. S. Lewis
 
~ ~

At church (OK, yes, it was a church,
to be specific:
)
this morning,
they welcomed a new child
into the assembly.

Now, as a 425 year old Greek Woman;
I was raised in a Christian Tradition,
being born into the Orthodox --
I have moved around,
from country to country,
and in each one, sought the Church
where I could celebrate my personal beliefs
publically, and comfortably:
I was only Orthodox until I discovered the Jesuits,
and then I had to become Roman.
I longed to be
a Jesuit Priest.
No, not a nun,
a priest.  I could tolerate not being able to marry
if I could think the thoughts of a priest.
When I told any Jesuit Priest my desires, they would always draw away in fear)
I was Roman Catholic for Centuries.
Then I married an Englishman and went Anglican;
then I lived in Turkey and contemplated Islam.
It did not frighten me.
In many ways, the study of Kabbalah and the Sufi tradition best
acknowledge my personal beliefs.

But for now, I'm trying Unitarianism,
occasionally visiting a Sufi group
nearby --)

Today, I witnessed for the second time only,
a Unitarian "baptism"
Yes, they use water,
but not in any startling way:
the Minister holds a white rose,
and presents it to the child
before dipping it into the water,
and touching it to the child's head.

Today,
as the Minister held the rose
out towards the baby boy,
the child reached out,
and grabbed the stem of the rose firmly.
He clearly knew it was for him.
And the Minister,
wisely,
said: "may you grab every opportunity life gives you
with equal energy and certainty."

And I thought:
that Child will, for
that Child's will 
is ingrained in
his Soul (Soul aka; Spiritual Essence),
that Substance that Combined
and entered
His Chubby Fleshy Avatar
is a bold one.
That is who he is.

Which reminded me
of another belief
that I firmly hold:
we are each our Essential Self
at the time of our birth,
and as children,
we act out our truthfulness
in every gesture and sound we make.

It is the Process
of becoming part of society
that messes us up,
beginning
with loving,
with parenting,
then schooling,
then friending,
then loving,
then working,
then hating,
then mating, 
then loving,
then reproducing,
then loving,
then playing,
then aging.

The soul inside of you,
the Spiritual Essence that is 
the Real You
(not to be confused with your body,
which is rather randomly chosen)
is the child in you.


And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven (The Bible. Matthew 18:3 ).New Living Translation (©2007)
The Child in Me is Gentle;
the Child
in Me is Quiet
and Kind.
I had not encountered her
for a long time,
until a few years ago,
when I fell
childishly in love
with a man who
 appeared to do the same
with me.
But it was
a beautiful love
partly because it helped me rediscover
the Child in Me; I was
wholly and fully
myself
with him,
and I could not figure out
why I hadn't found My Inner Child before,
since I'd been there all along.
It was the simplest thing in the world,
yet it was the hardest.  Because society
would belittle, and does belittle, the 
Common Sense of The Child.
But in fact, 
the Common Sense of The Child
is equal to
the Common Sense of the Essential Spirit.
So,
to return to one's childishness
is to return
to one's Essential Self,
the Self
we were meant to be
in The Garden,
before we went and messed it all up.
 ( dailymail )
It's that easy:
find the Child in You,
and be True 
to it.
But it's also very very hard:
for to find 
The Child in You,
you must be able to distinguish Who
You were before
a parent first called you "stupid"
or told you not to pick your nose,
or reprimanded you for talking to loud,
or for chewing with your mouth
open.
That's right:
you must find the You
you were before
someone broke your heart the first time,
or lied to you,
or yelled at you for picking their flowers,
or raped you
or beat you
or didn't feed you
or locked you in a room.
I found my Essential Me,
My Child,
and Shared My Childish Love
with one who I thought felt the same
in return.
Unfortunately,
my lover
grew jealous and angry
and worked very hard
to hurt Me,
and succeeded.
(Yes, he acted like a child.)
And now my Child cowers
behind a door in my Heart,
afraid to come out again.
Any human who has had that experience
I describe above
has trouble finding their Child;
and if Your Child 
has been hurt many many times,
it is hiding even deeper inside of you
as a child would do.
But it's still there.
(And don't forget--
this Child is the Essential You,
the Spiritual You
that moved into your body
at birth)
Am I still angry at my lover?
No.
Only hurt.
Deeply hurt.
I don't blame him,
because I really believe
that the only way his 
Inner Child could Justify
hurting another Child
would be because he was
hurt so so much as a child.
He was abused
as no child should have been 
abused,
and in his knowledge
that the abuse he received
was unjustified, he feels a need
to impose it on Other Children,
so he won't feel so much
like a freak.
But he's not a freak.
He's a Child; he's a sad sad spirit
whose fate in this lifetime
was to live in an avatar
that others abuse
continually.
I don't blame him;
I can only love him
still,
and pray for him,
and hope his Inner Child
was not hurt so badly
that it is eternally lost to itself. 



"You don't have a soul; you are a soul.
You have a body."
C. S. Lewis

A Diva, Singing the Divine



13 May 2011

Long Play


So,
please don't
be upset with me --
(I suspect you'll be relieved)
this is no intense
essay on the meaning of life, the world,
and everything.

I call those "channellings",
and this is not one
of them.
I am certain I lose readers when I do those channellings
those long,
long riffs -- and I'm grateful to those of you
who remain with me.
They're getting harder to do,
because what was meant to be said
in them,
has been said.
For the most part.
(But there may be more to come --
it's not something I have a terrific amount of control
over.)

For now, all I'm going to say
is that we should all learn to love life,
now, peacefully,
if we want to keep living life
as we know it.

That's all we can do.

So, in my own attempt
to learn to live life fully and happily
every single fucking lonely day

I decided to do a cleaning out of my stuff.
My goal:
to make sure that everything in my current house
is something I actually use and/or can use
in the near future.
Otherwise,
it's getting thrown out.


You see, I've moved so very much,
and accumulated stuff
all along the way,
and I've actually moved old stuff with me.
I'm talking old stuff, 
like this 30+ year old Sony TV
sitting behind me at this very moment.
It was always a good TV,
and it worked right up until
the change from switch
from analog to digital.
I'm bound and determined
to get it working this summer,
and I will.



The other thing I've carried around with me
-- also a Sony --
is a turntable,
that I bought in about
1983.
Seriously.
I've been absolutely convinced that
I would one day again
use it to
play the two boxes of albums I've also been carrying around with me
for the past thirty years,
or so.

Well, in my current abode, I have a room
that needs to be furnished,
and all my spare furniture includes
an old TV and my turntable,
and two boxes of albums.

So this past week I finally did it,
I went out to the nearby Radio Shack and bought
a receiver and speakers.
I took the first receive back
(I think it was a Panasonic):
it was a nightmare to set up and figure out,
and when I did figure it out,
I could not get either my turntable or my iPod
to work with it.

There I was: I had paid $200 dollars for this sucker,
and I was already thinking about the other components
I would have to buy to get it
to make due;
and then I got furious at my self: 
Why make due?  Why keep some crappy piece of equipment
that probably won't last even half
as long as my Sonys?
And I took it back,
and got
another receiver -
this one is a Sherwood -
that
not only plays my iPod, but also
my nearly 30 year old Sony turntable
is currently working as well as it ever did,
and me,
I'm a happy woman, listening to my old
Ricki Lee Jones collection,
and feeling like I found
a part of me again.



Ode To An Aging iBook G4


I don't think I can afford to replace you,
and yet,
it's starting to look like 
I cannot afford to not replace you--

But oh, my dear chunky white friend,
who has stuck with me
through thick and thin,
my blood runs cold whenever
that dark screen scrolls over your work area,
announcing to me:
"You must log off and log back on,"
(or something like that).

And I know it's not you,
you would never do that to me;
you would never freeze your keys and block my 
flow.
oh no.

You must be possessed, and on some
days,
the  possession just
won't go away.

So,
there it is, and
there it is,
that dark screen that scrolls over your work area,
announcing to me:
"You must log off and log back on,"
(or something like that).
 and you, dear friend,
You can barely fulfill the first command,
and I worry that you won't be able
to execute the second.

I know that some day
I will press your button
and press and press,
and receive no reply, just
your blank black stare --

so please, dear old until now trusty
friend, do not be offend-
ed if I should come home
someday soon
with a slick new MacBook Pro,
and a debt that I would rather not have.




But believe me,
it'll be fun to play with a new toy!


10 May 2011

I've got nothing to do but today . . .


Well,
finally,
it's over.
A long, dark semester.
I woke up this morning to sun,
with this song in my head.
And I just had to share it,
because it's how I feel:



(and it's recordings like this that make me feel
that the musical pairing of
Art Garfunkel & Paul Simon
was the work of some angels
who wanted to give us a sublime experience
of both heaven and earth:




To The Rainbow Racers



When you search for the rainbow
throughout your life;
when you gain it and find
there's no rainbow, after all,
well,
you actually have a far better chance
of finding the rainbow where and when you least expect it.

A logical rainbow racer
who has survived
to adulthood and beyond,
who has tested every boundary,
strode every stair,
only to find
there was nothing special up there
is most likely to finally discover

that the end of the rainbow has been here along,
here
on this soil in this paradise of a planet,
my friend --
it's here.  Paradise is here.


We could live in paradise
if we could recognize that we live in it
already.

We are the most regal
                 of the beasts
                               that inhabit paradise;
                                                all of us -
                              we all share paradise
already.

(photo by Makropoulos)

Oh, dear friends:

we create hell by living in paradise and despoiling it.


We are nothing but the noblest animal:
 the beast                            
who was given the job to tend the other bests.
                        Nothing more; nothing less.

By taking that assignment of caretaker
too seriously, we made the mistake of thinking
we were gods as well.

< >

Oh, so wrong, 
you hairless beast
You are only a beast,
and the only similarity
you really have with God
                 is that, if he were 
            to appear to you at this 
moment, God would be hairless, too.
(You see, because in order for God to appear
at this moment, she would
have to find a way that would somewhat reflect
the material world that we live in.
Because God, after all, is not material;
so s/he would appear as a mirror,
because that's the only way s/he could be made manifest
in the physical realm.)

God would appear, and has appeared
as a mirror, and whomever
has confronted or confronts God directly
would only see
themselves.
So humans who encounter God assign whatever
characteristics they personally hold to God,
when in fact they're really just looking at
themselves; thus:
God appears as a black man to a black man; 
she appears as an Asian woman to an Asian woman;
he appears as a crippled boy to a crippled boy;
or he appears as a puppy
to a puppy.

God has appeared differently to all
who have taken the time to view him, and yet
it is all the same God.


So, we must stop fighting dear friends,
we must begin
loving and living in peace;
and then you can just guess
when Paradise would arrive:
At that instant when we stop our fighting and start loving
first: the man or woman in the mirror,
then: the man who doesn't look a thing like you.

For we are all  the noblest animal, 
the beast 
who were given the job to tend after
the other beasts.
                                     Nothing more; nothing less.