Erroneous Monk

The cherry blossoms were in full bloom when the foreigner left on a pilgrimage. He walked for a long time, through many seasons, and when he came upon an old temple he was met with the unhappy news that the beloved master there had just died. Although he was exhausted, the foreigner expressed his wish to pay his respects, and was escorted to a shrine set up in honor of the master in the main hall. All of the monks and high priests had assembled in the hall for mourning. The foreigner was now before the shrine and bowed deeply to the floor in prostration. He remained there for several hours.

"Look at the devotion of the foreigner!" whispered the others, "We bowed for but a few minutes and he remains motionless for hours. Truly, he is enlightened. Let us construct a shrine in his honor."

Soon after the foreigner slowly got up, feeling very refreshed and happy and immediately set out again to continue his pilgrimage.

A Clear and Present Manger: The Role of Religion in American Politics

God's gone slummin' here in America, cruising the aisles of the House of Representatives for a vessel to inspire to act in His name and it's forever changed the complexion of our politics, this we know. But why? Why has God left us for the mean streets of D.C., prostituting His divine will for this bill, that proposition?

The clear answer is that he's only lurking around there 'cause He's not getting what He needs at home. That's usually the case, isn't it? His home, of course, is in the hearts of men, and his foray into the political arena is a symptom of our domestic neglect.

That's right folks, blame yourselves.

This age actually promises to be very fruitful in a way, insofar as it relentlessly saturates us with everything that is without, so as to lead us back within, where everything exists in perfect splendor -

you know, like a kingdom.

New Year's Letter

Dear 2009:

iHate sexy.

Please, stop bringing it back. Take my girlfriend (please), who's plenty sexy, but for good measure feels compelled to smatter her work, her life, indeed, with it as a kind of personal edge-cum-business utility, which is rather like putting one of these in one of these.

It's the world we live in, she would say, and she would be right. This year, though, after idling the foregoing years in darkness, I've finally hit upon the answer: live in a different world! Become expert in the constructions of yurts and live with a nomadic tribe in the outskirts of Mongolia. Find a corner of the earth where Steve Jobs, Justin Timberlake, et al. fall a distant second to a lactating Yak.

Oops. What's this? A Greek chorus, hmm? Well, let's hear what they have to say -

But it is the sacred and the profane!
They must exist together.
They are complementary.
You must embrace the one to fully embrace the other.

- well that is true, isn't it? Damn Greeks. There's a problem, though. Today, what passes for sacred (nationalism, religious dogma, ambition, bigdreams, money, the social contract I never signed) isn't really sacred at all and what passes for the profane (Britney Spears, E! Television, Hollywood, Carl's Jr. hamburgers, Mardi Gras) sure as hell ain't profane.

To have things like these form your constellation of that which is sacred and that which is profane is to do nothing other than be a dead human being. And not in a good way.

C'mon, let's go milk some Yaks, who's in?

Happy New Year.

Genealogy

to be perched high in wet clouds with
they behind, themselves the vessel

and I:

"Land!"

My Own Dear Terror

I sat alone on a park bench
(very alert quite alone I was)
holding a shotgun,

waiting. for

The menace, my own
dear terror there
beyond the horizon

you see and

In a second, any second,
there it would be:

swimming languid circles
quite without
appetite or purpose

and you see

In a second, any second,
here it would come:

instantly, absently, with a
wild mouth and the world's
malice on its tongue.

In this way, this is how
it would come,

and for me.