Defining Heaven

                                    "Everybody wants to go to heaven..."


This "What Defines Heaven" is a philo-theological question I have obsessed on.  I have written reams of paper searching for this answer.  I cannot say if I am a believer or not.  My friend Danny said, "Do you always look at things for the best?"  I see no alternative.  I want the  best for you and me and everyone.  If it is your heaven,  then I would like to visit.  I want to live in heaven.  Doesn't it feel so good?  Let's go!

My very dearest priest friend, Fr. DeJardin,  now deceased,  came to a kinder interpretation of Catholicism as he aged.  He believed theologically that all people would have the chance to enter the gates of heaven--very similar to Mormanism.  He also introduced me to Teilhard de Chardin, another Jesuit, who was prosecuted by the Church for his belief in evolution.  My favorite interpretation  of Teilhard's was that we humans play a role in the evolution of heaven.  That the alpha point of primitives would evolve/become the omega point of some human heaven on earth.  Doesn't that sound great.  Like we could actually create a heaven here on earth.  Let's evolve!

Then there is a largely held  belief  by many on the after-life--reincarnation.  Basically, how we transmigrate through many lives and forms to achieve a release from the physical into a more perfect spiritual world.  That's why they are always telling us men to get in touch with your feminine side and they say stop being a donkey.  This belief, too,  is saying that you have a personal responsibility to change or evolve into something better.  I cannot help but think this in turn would make the world better.  Let's believe!

Oh, oh!  Now I'm preaching like Mr. Flora Wonder.  It's fun!


"Just the poems sir, just the poems

     
                             How Rich
                   
                       If you are the person

Who must have a clear cut around your home

Then you have not committed to faith and love

You have risked nothing

You have lost even

Where will you spend your whordes

What will you get for it

The time is coming fast

Then it is over

As we have known it

The Omega prophecy is here

Not some ticker board bouncing speculator numbers

Happiness fat gardens friends

All will dwell in harmony


By being in the now do we live in zen heaven?
             

More Now


I hope I see you in heaven

But why would you like to leave this

Does a man need more than 40 acres

Not able to love them enough

Tethered to a dream

Why wake up

Why proclaim there are many mansions

Better than our fleshy bodies

Someplace far off we do not know

What is the matter with now

There are many paths to heaven, Grasshopper.

                         Salvation

I have been on the bus

I sat in the back of the bus

Rode to the blackest star planet

There seems to be a heavy dark plastic tarp

Can’t get it off

Fear strangling my breath

Gravity so heavy

Can’t get out from under it

A room with no doors

A planet with no light

The shuttle  nowhere in sight

Losing my hair gray despair

Technology will rescue me

Liar

Pharmacology will heal me

Liar

Religion will save me

Liar

POETRY

I believe in many heavens

                                 Nirvana Nirvana 


A snowflake in my hand

To be frozen suspendimated eternally

Would could it be that good

Resurrected into the clouds

Could you leave this fermented soil

I like visiting

I want to come again

I am not ready to forsake

Picotee pink begonia breasts

Autumn sun spinning gold in your hair

To not dwell in this our house

We call loves kissing madness

Would being immortal mean

There are no bodies to touch

No feasts of excess to share

Not to hold all that is us

Go away JesusBuddhaMuhammad

I want you darling 53

And finally, going back to my Christmas blog:  Heaven is grandchildren:  Defining Heaven

                                                                               

Confession of obsession

                                           Confessions of Obsessions

I promised you in my first blog, " In the Beginning," an expose' of my obsessions.  Confessions of obsessions.  I hope I am more forthright than our hero, Lance.  Still, there are things that we hide even from our closest soul-mate.   Sometimes even from our self.  I will give you a few and you will have to wait for more juice to come over the ether net.

Let me be perfectly clear (was it Nixon who always said that preface before he lied?)  you know what obsessive compulsive is.  Some people are bred with restraint.  Some have enough as to be at the edge, not of this political buzz-word cliff; but of a real precipice.  And a few have no boundaries.  I fall somewhere between the latter two.  I wish to preface this blog:  There is nothing wrong with obsessions if they do not hurt others or yourself.

Do you know what it is like to loose total control?  Have you ever lost control?  If you think that you are in control and your best, honest, true love says you fall beyond the range of normal in your habits/ desires in a certain area; do you believe him/her.  Is it intervention time?  Disbelief is easy.  There are others like you--worse than you.  There's that saying again, "Don"t laugh at yourself.  There's always someone worse off than you."  I don't believe I'm out of control, but then there is the total tally of the seed catalogs.  I get on a lust jag for seeds and I can't help myself.  Did it bankrupt us?  No.  Is it a sizable portion of my SSI check?  None of your business.  Will I recoup the cost in savings from my garden?  I need to share more.

In a discussion with my son, Tyson, we talked of how the onions, garlic, potatoes, squash,cabbage....
in the winter larder can be purchased much cheaper in the grocery but that there is such satisfaction in knowing that they are organic and that you grew them and they are yours when you cut those onions and spuds into a stew.  AND. There is no way I can monetarily justify the flower seeds except that they are food for the soul.  What does your soul need to feed to stay alive.  Baby Joe, more white water.  David B, another rare guitar. Mikey=steelhead. Yarn Reenster? (To the tune of)These are are a few of my favorite... obsessions... I just had a dream about you--I think it happened--I think it was real.

planting those seeds/their miracle

                       Waiting out May

How can you be so cold

The middle of May

A week past my birthday

You hail like there is no Mary

I know you can turn ice crystals

Into steamy breath with your hot glance

Then psychotic cold again

To freeze my joyous heart

When will you let me warm my hands

Smothered in the folds of your black earth

Plant miracle seed that will feed

  My body and soul



channeling seeking obsession


  Koan:  A Little Death


You cannot turn the tide of who you are

I found me in a thunder storm sheltered by a cedar

When that flash bang comes in a branched church

You have reached the end of your search

All things seem harmony shared

The noise of birds as if they cared

The yellow cry of a sea of buttercups interrupts

I too am a part of us

Just once to be there on that day

When Beni Maiko is the reddest

To freeze into that reaching wild sea

and there really was Tulipmania


                                                                       Tulipmania


                                                         Oh my Tulips my precious Tulips

                                                         Where have you gone

                                                         Whose hands are you in

                                                         You they fondle like Turkish bulb thieves

                                                         But you are to grow with me

                                                        Color fullest with me

                                                        Be alive in the Spring

                                                        You shall

                                                        We will

                                                         Swim back home in richest sea foam

More from the Moss Man

                                         

                         A message from the Moss Man

                         Amusing I hope it will be

                         Wisdom falling like hour glass sand

                         Time emptying to the bottom for you and me




     On Sacred Ground the moss is abundant because we live in the shadow of a mountain.  When the rain comes, always in abundance there are big creeks and little creeks besides our year-round Basket Flat Creek.  All of these have names and my favorite one was captured by Idlemotion (Tyson) on Flikr. This is a picture of the falls on


                                 



            Marieke Creek


You cut a little deeper into my heart

Every day month year

You are part of the view

We can never forget

The electric green moss 

Cloaking the silvery falls

Give Sacred Ground blessings

It is here where we live

Walk to open your eyes

The beauty is contentment

If you can only stop

See what surrounds you



                           Anatomy of a Waterfall
                        Or
How The Dissection Of It Pertains To Life


We come into this life a baby bare

We leave a graying bald

Lucky are you

That know nothing but happy smiles

Are you becoming a baby again

That forgets even bodily functions

How old are you not yet you say

Can still walk laugh talk in no gibberish

   Are you restless to get to where you are going

Memories of back on grandpas farm

Youths romantic simpler life 

Became the good ole days

That were great and not so good too

What will you remember and forget

Can I find again that football sized avocado

On a country rode somewhere east of San Diego


                        
Getting In Sync

Can you hear the heart beat of Gaia 

Thump thumps in deep tuba tones

Look out what do you see

Mirror mirror of yourself

Sitting on an empty shelf

Look what is reflecting beyond 

What noise is in the picture besides your face

Just the world you are connected to

Can you join in all the life around you

Harmonize with all that is found old-new

How can we change society

How demeaning is our society to individuals--cattle call # 1.  Recently, I have been exposed to what our culture has become.  So I don't read the directions:  Flying, Buzzers, bells going off "Sir step over there please."  Wanding: "Sir, you have something in your left pocket."  (Pack of Camels, I've since quit again to avoid this--I didn't know it could be a bomb.) Again. "Sir, you have something in your left pants pocket."  (One thin dime--After this trip I didn't know I had a cent left.)  3rd scan, "Sir, you have something in your right shirt pocket."  (I  didn't know I could start a forest fire or bring a plane down with a toothpick.) Now I'm getting worried.  "Please let me go home, I couldn't stand another hurricane Sandy.  I'll be good."

Second case--cattle call #2.  My son-in-law Scottie, who I must say I have become very fond of in the last 10 or so years.  He has taught me how to be a better red neck.  I now go out to kill fish and Bambi as he has taught me well.  Every time we go out to fish he asks, " You have your license."  "Yes boss, in my wallet."  Well I did have my license when the gamie asked, "Can I see your license?"  "Una problema sir, this is last years license.  I'll go check to see if you have a current one in the system"  Sick feeling.  I thought I might get a warning--nope.  "Your mandatory court date is set for 8:30 January 7."  "Do you know how much it will be?"  "It's up to the discretion of the court."  Wow if he would have told me then it was a class C misdemeanor punishable by 90 days in jail and a 1000 dollar fine and a revocation of my ability to obtain any sports licenses for 2 years, I might not have forgot about my court date until 7:40 Monday morning the 7th.  (It takes 45 minutes to get to the courthouse from our  neck of the sticks.  Traffic accident on I-5.  I think I could have made it on time speeding, thinking of the excuse I gave the cop about why I was speeding.  Don't think it would have flown.  So, I can't find a parking place close.  3 blocks away, pump the meter with 7 quarters, don't know how long this will take, off running, forget to lock the truck, still in range--beep.  Line all the way down the front court house steps. Where do I go. Talk to the guy in front of me in line--looks like he has had some experience down here.  "Talk to the lady at that desk after you get through the metal detector."  "Step back sir, one at a time."  They have to say that all day.  This time I search my pockets--not that same dime.  I think I'm cool, walk through.  Beeeeep!  "Step over here sir."  I was wearing my bib overalls and oops there is my tire pressure gauge and 2 pens in the top pocket right below my face..  He hands me my keys, pens, gauge, and the dime.  I say, "Keep the change"and he doesn't think it's very funny.

I hand the volunteer old lady at the desk my ticket and ask where I should go.  "I'm sorry, I can't read that small print."  She asks me my name and I find the K's for her on the 4th page.  I walk into court room 2 and the clerk interrupts the august proceedings to tell me to take my hat off--hey, I didn't know I was in church.  I sit by a couple of cute girls and ask what is the procedure here.  The cutest and closest says you can raise your hand if you wish to plead guilty then you can go next.  Oops, I also forgot my hearing aids so I can't hear #@#$.  She says go talk to the district attorney.  I talk to the d.a. (a girl maybe 30) and tell her my name and I can't hear you know what.  The pompous ass asks who wants to plead guilty.  I raise my hand.  The judge asks me my name but is flustered because he can't find my case because guess what the d.a. has it and she asks me to go outside with her.  It's like tv getting: you have the right to...and I say, "This whole process is very demeaning from getting inside this courthouse to here."    I tell her my story and she keeps going on no previous... and I say, "What's your bottom line?"  She says, "80 dollars."  I say, "Can't you go any lower?"  She hesitates but 80 bucks is already written down.  Get to go up to the bar, start to say something and he says that you can take this and shut up, or plead not guilty to 90 days, etc. I get one smart ass thing in when he says you will have to the end of February to pay it and I say that would be great because my 47 percent check will be in the mail by then.  I couldn't understand his rush to get this over as it was raining and he just didn't seem like the guy who would golf in the rain.

What's the point of the pictures of Basket Flat burning man and my cattle call experiences?  Society is sick.  Justice is not even a point to be listened to or cared about.  The whole experience of being a cog in a giant grinding wheel, a cow coming to the slaughter house,     (Where is the autistic lady that designed a more humane method?) is so sad.  "Just a number not a name"  Why can't we get crazy if it doesn't hurt anyone?  Did you hear Paul Hanlin's fireworks at burning Flat?  Did it wake you up?  I know his address if you want to turn him into the man.  Vince Kelly and I at our reunion had the same conversation we had 50 years ago.  That was Vietnam.  Now it's Afghanistan.  I didn't want to rant and the man makes you afraid that if he hears you, you will be in even deeper into his system.  Like Voltaire advised me to do:  "Cultivate your own garden."

                           A Hippy  Dream

When the darkness was but a youthful lark

I could ignore its flight

Now the wings block out every strand of light

There is only craving the light switch

Fingertips trying to catch my fall

The pavement racing towards me

Wanting you to save me

I am still tempted by the precipice 

Do not want to be an apostate or  apostle

Only to protest in bed Lennon like

To want a peace that is something more

Than between the sheets 

Of newspaper sensation and talk show truth or lies

That gossip around and only draw flies

No one recognizes Ruth or truth

Faces no one believes were ever real

We must escape our personal hell

Try once again to communicate

Out of this selfish strife

This complicated thing we call life

Spend all of our energy

Creating love and peace

Happy New Year

                                                       Happy New Year

                                                         
                The new year will soon be upon us.  Update:  Imminent.  The new year will be here if I don't get my rear in gear. Update it is already the 2nd.  Lucky # 13.  Marieke and I talked of resolutions.  What is a good resolution?  Is it a flooding of the gym for a month or less?  Is it I will be nice?  No one ever said that of me; so I guess that's a possibility for me.  Marieke said that she would try to gain satisfaction from doing things instead of having our UPS friend come to visit.  Free delivery.  I thought I would become the man of steel.  It made me laugh at myself and then that saying  who in the hell ever came up with, " Don"t laugh at yourself; there is always someone worse off than you."  I laughed at myself anyway because it inspired a silly poem with a Beatle line or I think in my case I lost the original poem and that is what has been delaying this blog.  When I'm 64!  Now I am trying to remember it.

                                                         Superman 2013


                                        I will be the body of steel is my goal this year

                                        The gym will erase all of my fat and growing old fear

                                        But how can you be what you are not

                                        For 64 is all of the body and mind  I have got


                Another beginning!  This '13!  You live 64 years and you expect things to make more sense and you know the answer to the meaning of existence.  I found the meaning and it is in this poem:

                                                         

The Explanation of Everything

The pain has gone away

I do not want to think of death and dieing anymore

  The kiss of sleep is so different

Not as deep not as permanent

Do insomniacs die

Or do they just wish 

That the kiss and caresses come

That love and friendship are one permanence

Not to be taken away

That meaning does not fail to become

What water oozels  do 

Bobbing to what music of the universe

Unlocking  this mystery could explain everything

Or it too could be just what it is

This last poem written 3/10/12  does not have all the answers--but maybe it does.  I do not text but I do know what wtf means.

                                           WTF


                                One has to wonder

                                Wtf this is all about

                                Who said you were prettier

                                Or I could be meaner

                                What does it make as an answer

                                Enjoy live well try to do what is right

                                Who is without sins past and present

                                 I love mormanism like some off-shoot

                                 Of Saint Augustine philosophizing

                                 Before he was saved

                                  Save me when I am dead

                                  I am having too much fun living life

                                  Do not worry what it is all to mean

                                  Just live like you are waiting

                                  For the last kiss of that koto note