let me live among you
let me show you the essence of who I am
let me uncover the depths of your life
perhaps we will be able to hold one another
discover what God has intended for us
and figure out our place
here in the great and growing universe
I stand in the midst of your noble ethos
having devoured manuscripts and stapled packets
I know a central truth lies sleeping in every faith
and that when sitting on the head of a pin
one may survey the divine landscape
I see that history works like a ragged dog
licking the wounds of our blood-soaked theology
I try to explain why I tremble for God
why I choose to remain in the land of my mother
I purchase my neighbor's danger
I live out my menace in a poor context
I am a white boy reading Sonny's Blues
fighting back tears of communion
because I do not want to stain the pages
I think about the Christian presence
ripping to shreds the fabric of foreign culture
seldom acknowledging history or pain
yet even as the grand quilt unravels
I can sense humility and imagine a second coming
some of us are thousands of miles away from respect
I take off my shoes and open the Bible...
I have no idea how much I am affected
my friends laugh at God and worry about sex
I try to entice them into fervent reflection
to take a step back and then look out beyond
past the dim picture of what has real meaning
beyond what is empty and alien and spoken
my friends point to me and whisper..."stranger"
I pray for the Christians in Buddha's land
that there might be moments of dual transcendence
that the void created by Romans and riches
might collapse in bright flashes of over-abundance
that God's circle might come spinning
giving birth to new cycles of time and space
that angles of geography might become angels
I ponder each myth we’ve been taught to believe
we foolishly cut them and sever the truth
carelessly dancing to a fruitless rhythm
but those who slice with a delicate hand
leave a sharp edge known as ritual
and those who point with the remaining shards
give to the world a gift we call symbol
I try to see meaning through the eyes of another
I write down my visions and give them away
the secret truth in what I am singing
is lost and betrayed by interpretation
it sings to me its singular song
and three thousand people come singing and running
we are alone with all of God's children...
I am living within life's tension and passion
that space from which no myth can run
God is at work in my non-comprehension
heaven's patience cools my desires
my intellect tempts me with familiar patterns
my intuition tempts me to sell my possessions
but I possess wisdom and I see my own patterns
I attempt to find meaningful movement and grace
I try to evoke moods that reflect transcendence
I review the great books I have read
I find new teachers and listen intently
another day comes and I forget the last
so I rely on charisma to carry me through
I play at becoming a magnanimous rascal
we are all archetypes, we are all Gilgamesh
we are modern spirits in the midst of crisis
our faith bends in submission to machinery
as Muslims prostrate themselves towards Mecca
we are god-fearing because we are primal
and as long as we remain unrationalized beings
we will continue to be deeply and absurdly religious
I try to be and become instead do and be done
I shirk my tendency to practice shirk
above the Lord there exists no other
Jesus and Paul both uttered these words
the prophet Mohammad shared their conviction
and realized the messiah and apostle within him
and became the most effectual teacher in history
I flee from my own persecution
tradition, rebellion, and mysticism taunt me
each providing me with alternatives
my mind drifts to thoughts of India
where I sense the subtle transcendence
the surface of life, both water and oil
allowing only for mixed visibility
I have lived with holy creators and destroyers
with ones who personify their creations
for the first time, I encounter one who is none of these
one who cannot be captured or even named
I am my own reflection
I have discovered within myself
a continuity with ancient civilizations
I am holding texts I cannot comprehend
I am inspired to doubt my own existence
I see how words are spread and digested
and retain the mists of their essence
various peoples lay claim to their voices
and for centuries the resonance is heard
the echo is born into the lowest caste
I am holding two volumes written in Sanskrit
a finger is gently tapping on my shoulder
"that one, tad ekam, that one"
whose voice could possess such a whisper?
whose voice could take my breath away?
at my feet lay the Upanishads
the newest fingerprints, the oldest dust
there is an apple with three cores
the first of the cores is entirely liquid
at the heart of the fruit is continuous change
even the seeds are free flowing vessels
bite into it and their rudders may be damaged
still, they will sail beyond comprehension
regardless of context, they reach their destination
the second of the cores is less fluid
mobility is possible, but is seldom swift
action and effort are seeds of their own
bearing the fruits of their own performance
dancers moving upon a volatile stage
the audience silently heads for the exits
withdrawn and disquieted but also connected
I sometimes forget that the third core exists
the rarest in life, its taste is the sweetest
some believe that to savor its nectar
is to liberate oneself from the ego
that in resisting false urges
one might bite into it again and again
but only when guided by disciplined gurus
my goal is to be alone in my bliss
to know the truth in solitude standing
yo lose myself completely in Brahman
to experience duality not through being
but by tempting myself to sample life's secrets
and when I see God, I'll know that it's you
because what I am seeking is looking for me
I am living in sin with my own knowledge
I have reached the end of the Veda
I have accidentally named the divine
and have stumbled upon three great truths
the first is that I have always been
the second is that I have been too loud
the third is that I have always been you
I realize it's all been said before
that belief sleeps silently in my hands
so I devote myself to ritual vision
I cut myself on the sharp edges of transcendence
startled, I awake from a vivid dream
the landscape is clouded by dusk's fingers
the Buddha lies sleeping under a tree
Chinese children invite me into their circle
to even accept is an act of defiance
but I am a member of many communities
one of the children fingers a broken twig
and asks me where my chariot is
I tell her that my driver is on holiday
and has left me to ponder the meaning of suffering
nothing is permanent other than awareness
condition and context are lighting and sound
I think of my life and surrender to a smile
I think of my friends and deem them essential
as darkness sweeps over my sleeping head
I think about time and its power to erase
and about how little being somebody matters...
these currents create a false sense of rhythm
from out of life's springs we are brought up
we ease cautiously toward the suffering of the sea
illusion masks our ignorance until it is exaggerated
our murders are turned into theatrical pieces
we stare at our mirrored reflections
and see many things at once
I come upon three paths in the woods
the first is the path of morality
it is straight but on both sides are deep ravines
the second is the path of mental discipline
it is straight but on both sides grow thorn bushes
the third is the path of wisdom
I look but cannot see where it leads
the right understanding is in my left hand
my thoughts are dimly mirrored by my speech
my actions seem to ignore my commands
all my efforts are focused on livelihood
I am mindful not to walk too quickly
but each step requires much concentration
being conscious, I seldom feel full
I awaken from a dream and find myself surrounded
by those who are the roots in their own systems
they speak with the tongues of angels
and spend their lives standing in a forest
they are encouraged to grow just as tall as each other
but if any one of them grows even one inch taller
they are brought to the earth and cut into pieces...
some of them escape persecution
long enough to share what they feel is true
some of them reach their potential through God
while others journey without ever arriving
and live in harmony along the way
each of these persons has somehow known truth
none of them avoid the scrutiny of their neighbors
I try to use nature to effect its own change
my environment has grown both friendly and cold
the people of this land need to send me home
they understand what I am trying to do
they have been trying themselves for all of their lives
I thank them for sharing the universe with me
I shall see them again in the world beyond
a mountain grows in my hometown
I am standing at the foot of it now
I wonder how I might reach its peak
and that if in choosing different paths
I will alter the vantage point of my destiny
seven people are standing next to me
we each choose a path and begin to climb
I am one quarter of the way into my ascent
the early climbing is the easiest
the forest is thick and the ground is soft
I can see nothing but the green of the leaves
many hands help pull me upward
and soon the woods begin to clear
just as quickly, the hands have all vanished
I am unsettled by the present terrain
I live in constant fear of death and falling
I turn my head to absorb the view
my chest is tight, it hurts to breathe
I long for the valley, the river and forests
I decide to let myself fall
but seven hands are holding me and pulling me upward
I can see the icy perfection of the peak
the winds are singing songs of endless beauty
I do not know where my friends have gone
my strength seems to be giving out and I let go
I feel as though I am spiraling downward
after what seems like years of rapid descent
I open my eyes and look out from atop the mountain…