It's been awhile since I've posted here. This meditation was inspired by my recent birthday. I always take the ocation to reflect on as much of my life as I can remember up  to that point, and to speculate a bit about my future... not to dwell on, but to briefly consider.

Mortality Meditation

The older I get, the more I seem to consider the end of my journeys around old Sol, especially when I go to bed. I sometimes wonder if I'll wake in the morning. This is not every night, but seems more frequent as I continue to age. It's not that I have a fear of not waking, it's morbid(?)-curiosity. I wonder if I'll know which morning I won't wake up, that is, if my brain quits in my sleep.

It's been said that sleeping is practice for dying. In deep sleep, I'm aware of nothing. When I wake, it seems that little or no time has passed since I lay down. I truly expect that if the end comes in my sleep, the experience of my deep sleep will be the same as death. Though I might awaken for that experience, my ending… I wonder.

Of course, the situation would be different if I came to my end due to an accident or intentional termination ... however it's brought about. Perhaps brief and/or extreme pain ending in my deep sleep-like conscious-lessness.

I'm very healthy, no physical or terminal illnesses that I'm aware of short of 'life' itself. Sure, there could be something going on that will catch up with me when I least expect it, but nothing that looks imminent. So, why do I periodically wonder if I'm going to wake up in the morning? Statistics, mortuary tables, watching and/or hearing about the decline of so many others of my age?

–LE 

Common Sense

What is ‘common sense’ but what benefits the majority, the planet, and all its inhabitabts.

Common Sense

We’re always advised to use it
but not to abuse it
what’s ‘common’ for one of us
not necessarily so for the rest

like everything else in existence
common sense evolves, changes
from one generation to the next,
often unrecognizable decades hence

but for the ruling classes, the
economic elite, the status quo
IS common sense for their
vested interests against the rest of us

everything in the universe is subject
to entropy, all systems mineral, organic
political, economic, including
‘common sense’

since everything is in flux, we
can devise a more nuanced
a more beneficial sense of what
it means to be common sensible

something that uses logic and
intuition and creative thinking
to resolve our mutal personal,
social, and ecological problems

build a healthy, sustainable environment
for all of Mother Earth’s inhabitants
not prioritizing the vested interests
of the demagogues, ‘elites’ in their own minds

–LE

 

Breakfast at the Birdfeeder Diner

Breakfast at the Birdfeeder Diner

wrens and sparrows arrive first
5:30 am sunrise long shadows
barcode the entryway

a flock of morning doves land
survey the ground, then hop up
on the birdseed buffet

pecking away nudging early
risers out of the way, need seven
times their weight for the day

the big boys twice the size arrive
two-tone gray and translucent blue
push all the others out of the fray

all the light-weights amble at the feeder
base pecking up crumbs and husks
the big boys missed in their haste

in less than an hour, two feeders
stripped bare, and the breakfast diners
go searching for another buffet

all while a neighborhood cat-posse skulks
around the outer wall and fence, eyeing
their potential ‘bird-breakfast’ buffet

–LE

Father's Day

I had a visit with my Dad on Father’s Day a few years before his death. This poem is the result of that visit. I wrote it that night when I got back home. So, it’s about 20 years old now.

Father’s Day

Sitting at the kitchen table (Dad’s desk),
I flick the lighter and linger under each of our cigars.

After the lighting puffs, a couple of long drags,
Rolling the heavy smoke, savoring its texture and flavor,
Letting a little roll out of the mouth,
Pulling it up through the nose,
Finally expelling it deep into our silent conversation.

I’m looking into a mirror that reflects the future–
A mathematically probable future…
I consider that probability as we sip coffee–
He, through Parkinson’s shakes.

I once saw him break a pair of pliers with one hand,
Sheared the pivot pin in two–not for show,
Just getting a grip on something that wouldn’t be gripped.
A wave of shakes forces him to save his coffee
By setting it down.

I help him re-light his cigar… another long slow drag
Expelling it into our silent conversation.

We are both fathers. He’s mine.
This is a celebration of that distinction–
But it gives me the opportunity to see my future–
A mathematically probable future.

He has collected uncountable treasures over the years–
“But it’s all worth money, it’s valuable,” –to someone,
Somewhere–maybe…but for all of it, there’s no cash,
No savings–no future.

I consider the collected treasures in my own apartment–
“I’ve hung on to this stuff because I thought I’d enjoy it
When I retired and had time for it; now, it’s too much;
I’m too tired and weak, not interested in it any more.”

Better decide what’s important now–enjoy it now,
Just in case the Future Mirror predicts true.
But then, the future’s in flux.
Nothing is impossible, only mathematically improbable…

Another long slow drag…rolling the heavy smoke,
Savoring its texture and flavor,
Letting a little roll out of the mouth,
Pulling it up through the nose,
Finally expelling it deep into … silence.

–LE

The Primordial Ooze

The Primordial Ooze

the darkness is
growing and I'm old
so what to do
one thing only
fight the growing
dark strike a spark
a match a candle
light a bonfire

spark it
wherever opportunity
presents tinder
make daily choices
that brighten not
darken our
collective
futures

don't be deceived
all actions have
costs impact
ever brighter
futures or breed
dark superstitions
reverse evolution
sliding back into the

primordial ooze

--LE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Early Onset Dementia --LE - Ink (Micron Pens)
on Multimedia Paper 8x8"

SS & Medi-dare

 SS & Medi-dare

SS retired - required - inspired
just plain tired - almost expired
expiration date all up to fate
emancipated  and medicated
perhaps need bruja-ha
or shaman help truer

SS short-shrift - left adrift
SS sucking sound as
austerity abounds - moving
wealth by fiat to leach-class
warehouses for the greed
brokers and their want-a-bees

medicare not really there
less money for private
providers pirate connivers
no vision nor dental -
no meds less parts
C thru Z - extra fees

Where's my bruja?

--LE

 

            VA Parking Lot

Past Professions (poem)

Past Professions

 

I’ve worked as a

plumber a

roofer a

strummer a

short order cook

a

waiter a

carpenter a

technical

writer a 

machinist a

qc inspector

a

programmer a

teacher an

ma instructor a

jack of trades a

master of none

a

six decade

wage-slave

career

finally done

 

--CN

 

In the Misty Woods - Watercolor

In Praise of Mediocrity

In Praise of Mediocrity

It slowly dawned on me sometime between my 30th and 40th birthdays. You know, the realization that even though you’ve always believed yourself to be something special, better than “average,” whatever that means… In reality, you are just that, average, mediocre, middling, You’re pretty good at some things that you’re interested in, but not so great with most everything else. And you never will be, even with dedication and perseverance. At most endeavors, you pretty much suck, just like most of the rest of us. Even so, most of us are able to “get by.”

When the realization first strikes, you’re devastated, in denial, depressed; the whole macho self-image collapses. But once you get past the initial shock, things begin to mellow out. No more rationalizing your near misses and downright failures. You quit blaming everyone and everything else for your lack of splendor. That takes most of the pressure off. You can start living with more realistic expectations, like that you’re probably not going to be a great rock/movie/journalist star, or become one of the influential elite in any category; learn to be satisfied with what you have, friends and family.

It’s actually liberating, in that it allows you to relax and just live your life the best you can, without apology or regret. You take your life in stride, accept your limitations, and do your best to enjoy the show. And you might as well enjoy it, it beats the misery of whining and crying about it. You create your own heaven or hell, depending on whether you enjoy the show, or beg for the mercy of oblivion. I’ve tried both, and enjoying the show works much better, at least for me.

And, yes you can make a conscious decision to enjoy it or not. Sometimes it takes some mental discipline, meditation, joking about it, or just taking a long walk, but you can make the conscious choice whether to enjoy it or hide in fear of it. It’s up to you. Ah, for a life of mediocrity…

–CN