The Ancient Greeks…
Studious yet peripatetic…
They pursued a noble notion of religion.
Nature based, gratefully borrowed from the mysterious Egyptians
And equally graciously passed on to their eager followers…
But when the ‘Hoi Poloi’ got wind of God,
Fear entered the arena and religion,
in the Mediterranean, at least, never recovered.
Without belief in a beyond,
There can be no thresholds…
…No mere forest this, but a jungle!
Foolish to venture in alone.
One would be eaten alive.
Far safer to mount an expedition.
An advertisement should suffice…
‘Only the bravest adventurers need apply.’
What, no takers?
In which case, alone, it’ll have to be,
It’s as well you’re the curious sort….
No rock – no base
But just an all-consuming-Hell
Or – empty space.
This special grace – this Earth
Where every grain of sand
Its special stamp
Its necessary place.
No vacuous hole
But threshold for the eyes,
The pathway to the Soul.
Cling not to people,
people are a prison.
Cling not to nationhood,
all nations are a lie.
Cling not to science,
its discoveries can be delusional.
Cling not to your own detachment,
lest you fly too near the sun.
Cling not to your own virtues,
lest by them you are undone.
First, ‘the act’ was valued for its consequence alone.
The Natural State.
Then, the origin of ‘the act’ was called into question.
“With what intent did ‘the act’ issue forth?”
This inversion can be deemed a first step in self knowledge.
We can see just how far from the Natural State this is…
And the second step?
Another inversion, this time to discover ‘the act’s’ unconscious intent.
Already, the conscious intent has become familiar as an apparel.
But it is seen as a surface only, which reveals some things but conceals more.
This is, ‘intent, as symptom in need of diagnosis’.
“Is there a Physician in the house?”
All you ‘men of science’…
Busy seeking spirit in matter…
As if mind were to be found in the head!
Small wonder you ever discovered anything at all.
Let every man aspire to a Silent Citadel in the sky,
and there live free from the crowd.
Eventually, if he wants to learn about himself,
he will have to climb back down into the throng.
Once here, what can he hope to glean from the squeals and grunts,
the coughs and splutters,
And all the dark muttering?
He will need a well tuned ear,
and a steady eye,
to pierce the irony of these cynics.
Cynicism is that form of expression by which the ‘common man’
finally approaches truth.
Spontaneous Internal Combustion.
You may have heard of the phenomenon?
It can now be regarded as the final death-knell for the Theory of Evolution by Natural Selection.
It is hardly likely that any ‘new species’ would simultaneously errupt on the face of the planet like so many hot flushes.
Yet, once a memory is framed, and accepted, it can be true at all times and all places without ‘compunction’.
It also means, that we are born into a past that never happened,
and pass-on into a future that is real.
Blissful in ignorance rather than poised,
tight-rope like, upon the very lip of uncertainty…
We have no words for it,
this ‘traffic jam’ of artifice
which we seem content to pursue.
Our infinite regress of virtuosity
is no more than a virtual virus.
Yet another blind-bumper away from the real.