Malcolm James Furst

Words, words, words

Archive for October, 2008

Cold Seeps In

My life: shredded, tattered pieces
woven into an awkward tapestry.

Cold seeps in,
in places, light breaks in,
at times, mine for the wearing.
Or shall I go naked.

Even then, My life is an awkward tapestry.

Even then…

Personal Responsibility

Though it’s much easier to blame all our problems, conflicts, and difficulties on others, our greatest struggles are not with other people, fate, nature, or time; our greatest struggles are with our selves.
Some of us spend our entire lives blaming others without even understanding the joys of knowing self, taking responsibility for our problems, and earning plaudits for our achievements.
On a deep level, many of us shift the blame to others while trying to feel proud of our accomplishments. Unfortunately, when we make others responsible for everything that goes wrong in our lives, we also come to believe that external forces must also create our successes.
Believing that this is the way the world works can lead to a sense of despair and hopelessness that many of us medicate with alcohol, sugar, caffeine, fat,. . . . The feeling of detachment from the forces in our lives can be subtly pervasive, yet very powerful. When we start to take responsibility for our failures and successes, we discover that what powers our lives is within us. This realization can be very powerful. This discovery can lead to a greater understanding of the interconnectedness of all aspects of our lives as well as the ways we are attached to the world.
Some phenomena may begin outside of the sphere of our influences, like a power outage. Our reactions to the phenomena reflect how much responsibility we take for what follows. Do we panic, blame the utility companies, and generally feel helpless and at risk? Or do we assess the situation calmly, adapt to the new situation (cookouts in the fireplace), and feel in charge. Even in these situations, when we don’t directly create the incident, we can take responsibility and grow as a person.

Old questions

A seldom-seen mist settled into my mindscape, obscuring nothing, yet dulling everything in sight. There is no mystery in this; nothing is masked by this fog. When I see blue sky, all else seems more intense and meaningful. Now that the brightness is gone, I see things merely as they are, though to say as much suggests that when these things are illuminated by that pervasive brightness that I see not merely what they are; I know this is false. The sun shines.
The problem with always living in the moment is that one gains no perspective on things. A person who sees the ups only when he or she is joyous and the downs only when he or she is dolorous may never understand the relationship of joy and heartache. We must find a balance between being in the here-and-now, and considering the past or planning for the future.
What am I? I am not this flesh, this pile of bones. If I were these things, I would not be able to step outside my body or ignore hunger and pain in moments of great joy or great fear, though a slap across my face often gets my attention.
I am not these thoughts, these scattered ideas. If I were them, I would not be able to rest in a place apart from them. Though when I sleep, I go with my dreams, or they go with me.
I trust that I will discover what I am through careful introspection, examination, or meditation, but I cannot be sure of this.
Perhaps I am that which asks the question, but if I am only that, what am I when I ask not? Do I cease to exist? Ho ho! No! Like a great riddle, I will only know I have the answer when I have it, and once I have it, I will know that I do, though I may stop asking the question before then.

You…

The scent of you, undeniably you,
lingering, yet elusive.
A light comes in the darkness
Sound comes, softens.
You come back to me
Not just my last memories, but my headiest ones, deepest ones.
Then, a piano . . .
I go there with my voice.

You

You tore the pages, several, from my loose-leaf soul.
You added new pages, unknown joy.
You removed your pages, eternal longing, loss.
You tore the joy from my soul.

Sure does Taste Good

Even though I have flown over the globe a couple times,
making the world seem small,
thinking I know it all,

Still, I come back to the well,
where that cool, sweet water sure does taste good.

Even though I have sipped the finest wine money can buy,
eaten savory meats,
the most decadent sweets

Still, I come back to the well,
where that cool, sweet water sure does taste good.

Even though I may one day be battered, frail, old, and gray
I will walk, crawl, or creep
To those deep waters, deep.

Still, I’ll come back to the well,
where that cool, sweet water sure does taste good.

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