“The moment good taste knows itself, some of its goodness is lost.”
– C.S. Lewis: Surprised by Joy

Socrates said “The unexamined life is not worth living.”
Sartre and his buddies said there is no exit from society
and one must be an authentic self.

I say: self disclosure is a dicey venture
and I comfort myself with an easy excuse
gathered from philosophers and sociologists:
“I cannot be me without sharing who I am.
After all, we ARE social animals.”

But I have discovered
some things -
the most profound moments -
should be left in silence
trusted only to the realms
for sharing them
erodes or erases their power.

Here I am lost on a stormy sea
here you are again with me
my life raft and my light

Our plants are looking puny
their leaves are drooping
and yet still they turn to the light
and soak it up
their life inspires me.

I get up out of my comfy chair
out of my observer self
and water them
and in that watering
my blood is circulating
I am breathing in their oxygen
giving back the life they give me.

I need to imitate our plants
soak up the light
and breathe it out.

How will you water today?

the cloud was gathering
and i could tell that it was filling up
getting saturated
with enough grace
to rain on and erode
self-will and hubris
the dark, jagged, and silly monolith
which is ego and pride
so wide in our species.

as the cloud completely filled and spread across the expanse
a feeling of serenity and strength
spread out within me.

after awakening
it occurred to me
that the membrane between imagination and soul
is so thin they burst out on one another
on occasion
and when they do
something marvelous happens.
i think it happens more often
in artists, mystics, seekers, believers,
poets and children.

It is an error
to think that I am my work
my paycheck is my worth
bosses are the ones
who define who I am
based on what I’ve done
or the profit I’ve won.

I’m not be a prince
or a splendid knight
with shield and sword shining bright
in the moneyed corporate kingdom.

But I can use my eyes to see
tell the pulsing heart of a tree
convey the glittery waters of the sea
listen, laugh, and cry with you
hold you when your life seems through
emerge from a hideous mucky dark
still sparkling with a dazzling beguiling
human spark.

In these first days of fall
the trees prepare for their journey into winter
summer’s green
yellowing.

Honey bees buzz the sage
enter its majestic green body
through the sweet portal
of its magenta blossoms
for one last deep drink
of nectar.

My winter approaches
may I imitate my brother bees
maximize what sweetness
there is in my small world
and pollenize
where I can.

I followed her into the field across the street,
our parents inside gossiping,
she sat down in the high dry hay
and that was the very first day
of a special innocent discovery
“You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

I can still remember the aroma of that hay.
When I was tramping through a field
thirty years later
I felt strangely excited and alive
I knew not why.
And today I recalled that day
I followed her across the street
to sit in the hay.