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"And now, weak, short of breath, my once-firm muscles melted away by cancer, I find my thoughts, increasingly, not on the supernatural or spiritual, but on what is meant by living a good and worthwhile life — achieving a sense of peace within oneself. I find my thoughts drifting to the Sabbath, the day of rest, the seventh day of the week, and perhaps the seventh day of one’s life as well, when one can feel that one’s work is done, and one may, in good conscience, rest."

Oliver Sacks


I hope you read the entire essay at the URL below.

~~~
humble humble,
jester self-mocking, calling out, giving oneself the bird,
who me?

indeed,
the greater fool,
utilizing, thriving on self-contemptuous thoughts,
you are no Oliver Sacks,
what are you doing
messing with his essaying,
go back to being a standardized human,
the detritus of thine mortal coil,
that employs you as a full time slave,
a scab-working seven day affair,
is that insufficient?

you,
in your sixth
decaying-decades day,
forsook the ancient Sabbath long ago,
keeping it for ****** rest,
cheaply tired from the liturgy of
straitjacketing of do's and dont's
of excruciating detail,
that put only distance tween you and
your essentials

Sacks invades directly to my eye's clouded storage,
two brains cross wired,
histories, his story, my story,
all too familiar,
indecently similar

here I am
nearer my god than thee,
for on this Sabbath day
of my ancestors,
(a hand-me-down gift to the world's conceptual heritage),
working hard,
as an everyday day laborer,
looking for work on street corners,
busy busy searching my conscience,
angel wrestling,
sacked by questions -

is one’s work done,
and when,
may one,
in good conscience, rest?

this is work,
hopefully, that is not
a violation of the Sabbath commandment,^
even if it is, no matter,
for by now,
this lifelong dialogue
whose contradictory dialectical
does not contain the word
final or finished
~~~
as I essay out this poem,
(this work?)
in a place of beauteous natural calm,
so easy to agree with the passing schooners,
whispering via genteel breezes,
later, not sooner,
no need to decide, let it ride,
answers will come,
perhaps all on their own,
all on that day
when,
you're within hailing distance
of the shores of the Isle of Surcease

the answers will come contemporaneously,
when you have leave to
exorcise from your calendar's,
Siri's spouting, inexorable,
pop-up perpetual reminders,
that today's first thing on your
to do list is

"relearn the meaning of
good and worthwhile"

for then,
you will have all the answers

~~~
^ "Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days you shall labor, and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God. On it you shall not do any work, you, or your son, or your daughter, your male servant, or your female servant, or your livestock, or the sojourner who is within your gates."
~~~

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/08/16/opinion/sunday/oliver-sacks-sabbath.html

~~~