Everything (Always) Is Full Of Life

Look At That, He Said Pointing

i passed an epiphany on the floor one day

missed the point and left it lay

growing none the wiser

JB - 09/01/11

We’re all still trying to get to that concert; the one where our favorite band sings a song of freedom to the heart; when our friends gather together, growing bold and new from the experience; when everything is different after, seen from the perspective of one who stood on the threshold of ecstasy and looked down over the sea of life, understanding it all.

Always it rides on the edge of our vision.  Every moment and none are that concert.  We live unaware of the splendor that surrounds, never having consciously acknowledged the import of it all. 

In the end, only the end matters.  If we could lift our heads to gaze out on the horizon, all would come into focus.  Yet, even knowing this, we are distracted by that which blazes past as the world spins madly on.

Life, as always, couches its answers in a new mystery to solve.  It is not the passing epiphany which carries import, but the implementation of that which one knows they must change.

Decades? We Ain't Got No Decades. We Don't Need No Decades. I Don't Have To Show You Any Stinking Decades!

In the Baha’i Faith, the number nine carries symbolic significance.  The unity and oneness of mankind is seen as one of the fundamental truths which humanity is newly mature enough to accept and cultivate in this era.  As the largest one digit number, nine is, therefore, seen as the symbol of this truth.

In roughly two weeks, my wife and I will privately mark the anniversary of nine full years having passed since that night (and subsequent morning) that we spent chatting on AIM and decided to go down this road... and in another eight months or so we will mark our ninth wedding anniversary.

Nine years ago, my roommate (Asher) had to stop into work and I decided to go with him.  What ensued was one of the few nights in my life when I literally did not sleep at all.  Instead, I chatted with this girl I knew – first in a public radio computer bank on Purdue University campus and second in Asher’s room (the only computer we had) while he slept.

What better way to celebrate an unconventional beginning to a relationship than an unconventional, yet spiritually significant, anniversary party?  We haven’t decided what we will do, precisely, but we will be treating this anniversary as one of the big ones.

THE big one, actually, so please save the date.

One can keep its paper, five its wood, and ten its tin.  Gold?  Diamonds?  Who needs ‘em?  We’ve got better.

After nine delightful years… we got soul.

A Revolution: Not To Change, But To Return

I attended the Green Lake Baha’i Conference this weekend.  I enjoyed myself thoroughly, and was even introduced to the work of Anis Mojgani – a slam poet who produces amazing, expressive, thought-provoking work.  Potential poetry, his is not.  More to the point of the story, however, one of the breakout groups they had was about telling your story.  The description mentioned blogs, so I wandered in.  Wandering out, I took away the view that expressing ourselves is one way of encouraging understanding.  There was more to it, but those are the words I have settled on for the moment.

We spent maybe 3 minutes writing about our spiritual journey, starting sentences with “I remember.”  From there, we then just started writing what came to mind for another 10 minutes.  Afterwards, I spent some time putting the resulting words into a semblance of order and this is what resulted.

As I post this, I am no longer in the same place emotionally.

~~~

I find myself thoughtful without direction.  My over-active nerd-brain runs wild, stampeding violently past as I try to lasso a stray thought.  The ones I capture are but mere shadows of the stallions I see blazing past.  I circle back.  I circle back.  I circle back, but I never see them again.

Recalling the Genesis of Ourself

i remember a little girl

i remember a hill

i remember a drink dispenser

a conference at camp tecumseh

i remember mysterious paths

cars in the woods

hidden schools just over the hill

rocky inclines where water used to be

i remember friends and community

gathered at happy hollow park

i remember the speech they had us practice

and the games based on virtues

i remember memorizing a prayer

on the way to somewhere i’ve forgotten

and the feeling of pride in the accomplishment

i remember our father snapping his fingers

when we talked during prayers

and the sternness of disappointed stares

i remember wrestling and jumping on the bed

sent to play after devotionals

i remember a number of things

enough to reflect

too little to recreate

-JB 08/27/11

I know that I come back to the same thoughts, the same emotions.  I’m a record skipping willfully - an out-dated version of myself trying to hold onto cherished relics from a past era.  One such is recycled regret over, more than the loss of innocence, the forfeiture of myself (even if just a little) to a world that continually moves on, allowing no return to pick up the pieces of poor choices.

If I could find that truer self who I took out in the woods and told to stay, I’d let him know that I don’t think remembering him is a waste of time, and I try to remember as often as possible.

In the absence of Marty McFly… remembering will have to do.

The Idiot's Guide To Group Introductions

As part of corporate orientation, each new(ish) hire was paired with another new(ish) hire so that we would have a buddy during orientation.  We were given a script of questions to ask about each other, and then we were supposed to come to orientation with a gift idea (you don’t actually have to buy it) for the other person.  Here is how I see my speech going:

**Names of people and places have been changed to protect the identities of individuals involved**

Thank you!  Well, my name is Jamal Black and I am here to introduce Bilary Hecker.

(start as if regaling the group with a delightful story of profound human interest)… You know when you meet someone and you make that connection that says:

“We talked for, like, a half hour... (dramatic pause)… and we asked some pre-determined questions… (dramatic pause)…and now we know some random facts about one another…” (pause for laughter)

Well that’s what we have.  So, I’ve been wracking my mind for at least… (pause to think)… a few minutes… (pause for laughter)… and I’ve been trying to decide what I should get, as an imaginary gift, for my new partner… (dramatic pause)… in crime… (pause for laughter)… that would represent this new… (with emphasis)… thing… (continue)… that has happened.

After not so much careful consideration, I decided that I would get some green play-doh.  Green, because it represents growing things like… (pause to think)… grass… (continue with hesitation as if you are having trouble coming up with ideas)… or broccoli, or spinach… (continue as normal).  Play-doh, because we can form this friendship into whatever we want… (dramatic pause)… and then bake it in the oven of life… (dramatic pause)… and it will stay that way for… (pause to think)… a while… (trail off questioningly)… I think…

Shh... There It Is Again. Did You Hear It?

Somewhere in the distance a clock is tick-tocking.

Mostly the sound gets drowned out by the buzz and hum of day to day life as it drones inexorably on, but there are times when I imagine that I can almost hear the repetitive soft mechanical clashing as my swiftly passing days go by.  Aware as I am in those moments of the fleeting nature and unknown length of my existence in this world, I am at once disarmed by the entirety and magnitude of it all, while simultaneously I feel empowered by the urgency of needed actions which will raise the sum of my life to something worthy of the gift.

When I was 19 and 20, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.  I signed up for college under the belief that I was “supposed” to, but had no internal drive for it and no end goal in mind beyond the supposition that I might stumble upon a subject which interested me enough to pursue as a career.  In the end, I found some interesting subjects, but not nearly enough of them and fewer still maintained my interest beyond the first few weeks.  After a few semesters, I failed out of Purdue University.  I did not, in fact, Boiler Up.

Faced with the vastness of infinite choice, I floundered.

Many instances upon a time, I have again had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.  I felt then, and continue to feel, the persistent need to live a life of consequence but what does that mean, even?  Yeah, there are the universal principles of service to God and service to fellow man, but how do I apply such principles to my own specific life in a way that suits my strengths and interests?  How do I achieve something uniquely me - or should that even be a consideration?  Well-intentioned but non-confident action is better than inaction, but what if more thought and consideration before acting would magnify the effect of future actions?  What if it doesn’t?

There is a fine line between planning and floundering - a razor’s edge, even.  I have faltered in the past but, though I lived to regret it, I used that remaining life to work hard and recover from my first pass at college.

The Great Newspaper Upstairs is writing my story even now.

The deadline approaches.

tick-tock… tick-tock… tick-tock…

Do I have time to recover again?

Please, Sir, I Want Some More

Shelly and I stayed home for the first full weekend in what feels like the entire summer.  We baked fresh foods with ingredients from our garden, walked to a coffee shop and grocery store, cleaned, weeded, cut my hair, and generally relaxed.

Home, Again, At Last

cicadas singing, fan turns round

peaceful nights and summer sounds

it's finders keepers - life is found

-JB 08/21/11

Life is made up of minutes, days, and years; but is lived only in such moments as are stolen and sufficiently and joyously squandered in the simplicity of togetherness with loved ones.

From Sixteen To Marriage

Paranoid Loneliness

cloaked in shrouds of brash words

and the false bravado of youth

eyes unsmiling tell the story

of almost men and near women

searching frantic for someone

who reminds them

of what Jackie Wilson said

- JB 08/15/11

Per normal, I have little meaningful to say - though even less this time.

I was just remembering today what it was like to be single.  Fortunately, I married young or I certainly would have gone crazy.  Everyone I met was first considered as a potential mate and second as a person.  I was an almost man on a mission, for certain, though in many ways it was a waste of time.

I was rarely interested enough to try a relationship and even then didn't commit to it.  Man is nothing if not often self-defeating and I fit the bill more often than most.  Eventually I came to a point where I decided that it was going to happen or not, and I gave up trying.  Within months Shelly and I were dating.

You've Eight Years? More Like Eaten Them.

When I got married, my mother said that we would grow together or grow apart. Eight years later, and that statement still makes me stop and think.

Voyeur Moon

my wife’s music plays loud

driving south as the moon shines down

she belts out the tunes

on the way to a good friend’s wedding

i listen as she tells me how good each song is

and which ones used to remind her of me

over the years i’ve learned the words

and offering my voice brings peace

-JB 08/12/11

Love is like the wind; a stirring up of emotions.  Love is like the wind; it can be there and gone in moments.  Love is like the wind; it helps by pushing you onward.  Love is like the wind; it will break your umbrella if you aren’t careful.  Love is like the wind; refreshing.  Love is like the wind; you’ll fall on your face if you lean into it when it doesn’t blow back.

There is no recipe for love, nor is there a snake oil cure for being unlucky in it.  It’s human nature to want to share experiences when one feels they are relevant.  This isn’t a self-help book and I’m not opening an ashram, but life teaches as one goes and I find myself valuing two lessons more than others. 

1. Speak from love, and hear love.  Assume the best of the others’ intentions.  When an argument arises, it’s more likely miscommunication than ill-intent.  Have the maturity to let go of frustration and remember that the other person is trying to understand your crazy self just as much as you are them.  Rarely is somebody not trying, so don’t let that be your reflexive response.
2. Be willing to lose yourself to the marriage.  Open up and find the new you.  Your mannerisms are not solid gold to everyone and may not even be solid gold to you, if you only knew better.  More likely, you stumbled onto your habits through happenstance and repetition.  That’s hardly a good reason to cling to anything, and may be just the reason to run away therefrom.

Mid-Mountain Meditations / Math and God

We've all got our paths to walk, but as I look up from somewhere part-way up the infinite mountain, I find myself both exhilarated by the journey and stunned by the impossible-to-mind-wrap magnitude of it all.

Un Enlightened

my mind careens wild

down roads known

yet never explored

a path worn well

to a destination

never reached

light floats in the distance

ghostly, ethereal

never to be attained

-JB 08/08/11

The thing about the infinite mountain is that, no matter how much further I go up, I never quite get to even a percent climbed.  I can look back down the mountain and track the path from whence I came.  Even so, I haven't even begun to climb, statistically speaking.

From where I stand, (part-way up and guessing at it all), that is what the Prophets of God mean when they discuss Him as "unknowable."  My philosophy teacher liked to claim that as contradictory, for even to know God as "unknowable" is to know God.  Statistically, though, it is less than irrelevant.  I know of God, I do not know Him.  To me, that is a significant difference.

Some also ask:  

Why climb if you can't get to the top? 

I can't answer for you, but for me it is simple.  I can always move up relative to where I was/am, and that is quite rewarding... when I am able to mind-wrap the significance.

Measuring The Apple's Distance From The Tree

I'd rather make sense than cents, though I don't know that I often succeed at either.  Too often, my search for the words to express the sentiment that I feel deep within my spirit comes up empty.  It's just one of the many things I am bad at.  I try my best to be unpredictable too, but it seems that the only surprise I've managed to pull off so far is when I realized that I wasn't.  Still, I can't but ride on through the night, laptop desperado that I am.  Besides, writing gives me the Pinnochio effect.  (I feel like a real boy)

Organic Apples

songs ring out in my head

wrapt in memory

everything means more when you’re young

and your parents believe

time has passed me by

until even the man in the mirror

doesn’t know my name

but it’s still teaser putting me to sleep

and firecats run wild in my dreams

where i’d rather clean windows

than be a rich man

on comes the call

social justice

sounding in the distance

behind walls

i hear the screaming

left then right, left then right

a solider marching

all the time i’m left

until i make it right

no, my father’s ghosts don’t haunt me

and my mother’s sorrows don’t get me down

but i’ve both their hearts within me

and my own small thorny crown

- JB 08/04/11