Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning

Tuesday, June 6, 2017


“How did I get into the world? Why was I not asked about it and why was I not informed of the rules and regulations but just thrust into the ranks as if I had been bought by a peddling shanghaier of human beings? How did I get involved in this big enterprise called actuality? Why should I be involved? Isn't it a matter of choice? And if I am compelled to be involved, where is the manager—I have something to say about this. Is there no manager? To whom shall I make my complaint?”
                                                                         Søren Kierkegaard

It seems so unfair
That I should be so blessed
Growing up affluent, white, male
Relatively bright
Eventually somewhat handsome

A good education
No, a great education
Whitman, Princeton, SFTS

So many privileges

I have it all, and yet
Life does not always come together
It feels like Ikea without instructions
A jumble of things that don’t quite go together

And then I look around me
At people whose parents told them horrible things
Or abused them

At people who have never known anything but poverty
And who could not find a way
To get an education

Some of them are badly damaged indeed
But some of them, are happy
Loved and loving

Perhaps it is a matter of choice at some level
One chooses to be unhappy
Always looking for bigger, better, more
One can go for life pushing, grabbing, seeking, lusting

Or one can choose to accept life as it comes
Expecting love, looking for love, and
Finding it

Looking for what is best in a situation or
Even a person

And finding it

Perhaps one can go to the manager (who just might be God)
With gratitude
Rather than grievance

And maybe one can find a way
To be happy
To be

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