Tao Te Ching #35: G-O-D

If I talk about

YHWH (the name not a name),

I wave my hands around first,

run my eyes across the sky,

draw a picture of Nothing= Everything

with my fingers

and then, and only then,

reluctantly say

“God.”

Reluctantly,

because the sounds of

G, O, and D

only diminish

All-That-I-Am-Trying-To-Say

with my

hands, eyes, and fingers.

Reluctantly,

because the sounds of

G, O, and D

don’t sound to you

as they sound to me,

so What-I-Am-Saying

may mean to you

something altogether different

than what-it-is

my flailing arms,

my sky-spanning eyes,

and my cursive-curling fingers

are trying their best

(and doing a fair job of it)

to get across.

Tao Te Ching #34, the Source

In perfect receptivity,

rivulets of morning’s gathered dew-

rivulets no wider than an eyelash

blink

down between grains of sand

down through the green grooves

of coastal grasses

down around the ridges

of sand crab journeys

down

always down toward the source:

the omnipresent

gravitational destination,

the source, the destination

the beginning and the end

and the beginning.

Deepwater, flowing deeper

and down and down

between through around over

all that emerged from the depths

and is returning to those same depths.

 

The cacophonous silence,

the luminescent darkness,

the holy wholeness.

Tao Te Ching #33, Mirrors

Qoheleth declared all to be

Vanity:

emptiness encased in

shiny superficiality,

marketed as meaningful,

but quickly forgotten in the glare

of that which is shinier,

newer,

and just beyond our reach.

Vanity, my name is Vanity..

until I learn my true name.

And that name can be learned

only

by leaning into the image of myself

in the mirror of a pine tree’s

sticky, sap-stained bark;

or in the mirror of a mountain range

where snow-covered peaks are hidden

behind winter’s-grey/golden clouds;

or in the mirror of a thousand soldiers’

graves at the edges of a

Pennsylvanian battlefield;

or in the mirror of flashing fish scales

or a red/yellow/blue/white supernovas

or in a drop of sidewalk rainwater.

There

I am, too:

in Meaning without words

in Reflection without plot

in Holiness without divinity.

And my true name?

My true name is that

I have

no name.

Tao Te Ching #32, One

In that space between you and me,

and between me and the tree,

and between the three of us

and the rose

and the four of us

and the sky, the moon,

the porpoise, the rabbit, and the

oceans..

that space, that seeming

emptiness

full now, we know now

of strings- strings of being

which bind all that is in a

mass of light years long

connectivity in which time curls

in on itself and becomes space

more space filled too with

that which has no name

and will have no name

because there is no name

pronouncable or

teachable or

of any meaningful

etymological consequence.

So, let us breathe

that space instead

that is between us

but also

in us

around-under-over-through us,

without naming anything

only allowing everything

to be

One

 

Tao Te Ching #31, War*

Arms don’t fit in the biblical story

unless one is a literalist-

then, swords are allowed

(and the occasional slingshot).

However, should you choose to use a sword,

even if it’s only to slice off

a soldier’s ear,

expect to be

sharply spoken to.

Wars aren’t won, they’re over.

Bullets kill faster than nails.

And no matter who is chosen to die,

the decision-makers become wealthy.

Left, right, left, right..

into the slaughterhouse

where hope floats in

coagulating pools of blood.

It will different this time!”

No, it won’t. It never is.”

Right, left, right, left..

it really doesn’t matter.

My God, my God, why have

you forsaken us?”

You fools, why didn’t you

listen?”

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* The Tao is one of the original anti-war proclamations. It is harsh in its message, but true.

Tao Te Ching #30, war songs

Mine eyes have seen the glory

of the coming of the Lord

He is trampling out the vintage

where the grapes of wrath

were stored but now

are turned into land mines,

and buried.

On the third day

(or the second or the fifth,

or maybe some day years from now)

some unsuspecting chump

will step on a long-forgotten mine,

rise,

and ascend into heaven

on the loosed lightning of TNT,

in a smear of furious death.

I believe in the Holy Spirit:

I’ve seen him in the watchfires

of a hundred circling camps.

And I believe in the holy catholic church-

they’ve builded him an altar in the morning dews and damps.

I believe in the communion of saints

and the forgiveness of sins,

the resurrection of bodies,

(even blown-apart ones)

and life everlasting.

Even though

Our god

Our god

Our god is marching on.

other reactions to the TTC: http://taochow.wikispaces.com/