Rilke asked God what He will do when Rilke dies.
Who will call His name?
Who will beg His succor, then thank Him daily?
Who will praise Him? Need Him? Adore and despise Him on a regular basis?
Good question, Rainer. Did He ever answer?
I too have come to know God. I know longer seek Him, because I know that I know that I know where He resides; what He would have me know and do and be. Stupidly I sometimes choose to ignore His simplest requests. He knows me. It’s okay in the overall scheme of things.
It seemed enough to finally know; to say I know and truly mean it; to relax into that knowledge, and to wave off those who would interfere with my peace, my personal satisfaction, if you will, that I no longer need to debate the existence of my life and soul source -God. Believe It or Not. Get thee behind me, Satan. Go away, I say, Go away, Son, y’bother me (Foghorn Leghorn). I am comfortable with my God, and He with me.
There is a challenge within the knowledge, however. It is not enough to know that you know. You must DO something with the knowledge, or He might disappear. He might become nothing but a passing thought. His power and gifts may never again be requested, and so our collective strength will weakened.
Mein Gott, as I’ve written this I understand what Rilke was saying! He was not threatening God, not pretending he was himself God, but rather he understood that all power, might, love, friendship, community, prosperity, health – all require acknowledgement and celebration – nods of acknowledgement one of the other. God of Man and Man of God. Neither exists without the other. Both are essential. The chicken AND the egg are essential, each for each.
It is not that God made Man in His image, nor that man made God in his image. The image is not the thing! Life is the point of it all. Life and living it and acknowledging each other as we do so.
Oh, My, as George Takei would say, it might be time to re-read E.M.Forster, and Hesse and others my professors and friends have presented, and my old Bible, perchance. Not for the rules, but for the connection! I need to think on this further as an opportunity for tapping into the joy of it all, that we each define each other. Our strength morphs and grows as we believe in each other, and we each live and prosper.
Life is Good – Life is God
The concept has been in front of me all this time.
May 29, 2022
suggested reading: Poem “What Will You Do/” by Rainer Maria Rilke
Short Story “The Point of It” by E.M. Forster
I have a friend – an old friend of thirty plus years now – with whom I enjoy an occasional chat across a table solving all the political and theoretical problems of the world, laughing with veiled innuendo (not so veiled, actually), toasting with good scotch (or coffee as the time of day dictates), and shoving away a bad breakfast burrito without unnecessary comment (the shove says it all – ha),
who does not hesitate to call BS when I’m ranting too far off the beaten path;
who loves his new cars, and his backhoe, his bargain RV, and blasting the roadway to his historic old stone house at the top of a mountain that once a beloved of his tried to burn to the ground (no one has seen her since…hmm).
Like me, he has helped finance hundreds of homes, and has sometimes made good money doing so.
He has been an international soccer referee, and an annual mate on a sailboat in the Caribbean, paid mainly with rum and fresh lobster.
I’m glad for the occasional sit down, gossiping about who is doing what; which gorgeous woman has spurned him (her loss, I’d say).
He doesn’t judge me. He doesn’t bullshit me. He doesn’t insult me – often, ha.
Once, nine years ago, after a lunch at a favorite pub (no drinking at lunch, truly) I turned to wave tata to him, tripped on my clogs and fell face down in the crosswalk shielding my recently mastectomized chest with my arms. He screeched to a stop in his old Porsche, held up traffic, and ran to make sure I could walk to my car. I could. Don’t fuss.
He’s allergic to cats, something I’ve never understood, I suspect it’s more he doesn’t like them.
He’s a friend, and I’m glad for it.
We had coffee and discussion at a cozy diner spot up Turkey Creek yesterday.
We’ll likely touch base another time or two this coming year, now that the snow is moving out.
I hope you have a friend or two like this in your life…someone whose company you enjoy, though you cannot really say why…
Finally the sun is warming the sidewalks.
The shivering leaves are beginning to unfurl,
And the blue jay in the big pine behind me is screeching just because he can.
I do wonder at times,
how I will be able to go alone all the way;
how it will be when I see no one I’ve known in the biblical and non-biblical way.
Will I remember things? Remain vibrant?
Or fade, no longer caring, no longer relevant.
I cannot say with any certainty
that the love I have known on occasion will somehow aggregate
into one solid rock at the end of the day, but so far it seems likely.
It is NOT my tree, do you hear me?
It cracked under the weight of the snow, then crashed onto my new fence and my car, loudly.
It is YOUR tree. The tree YOU do not trim, water, or care for. It sits in the yard you do not mow, or keep clean, filled with weeds and torn papers, cigarette butts, and sometimes are car or two pulled up to the house on what passes for your lawn.
I piled the broken pieces at the edge of your yard. I have spent enough money putting up a high fence, and hauling out piles of your caca to make my house livable.
YOU clean it up! I am done with it for the day.
May 21, 2022 Spring Storm, Denver, CO
Yesterday morning I made pea protein pancakes for breaky
without background music and/or the noise of the daily news, just my budgies nibbling on millet.
I realized as I slowly broke one egg into the mixture and gently beat it with a small whisk that I was actually taking my time making breakfast. Cleaning as I went, watching the pancakes bubble on the griddle, giving them time to dry just a bit on the edge before flipping them after all the bubbles had burst. I had no schedule to keep; no need to hurriedly squeeze in breakfast between my shower and my drive somewhere, nor the urge to drop a frozen waffle into the toaster turned up high making it crispy enough to carry in one hand while locking the back door in another.
I kind of like it, being aware of how things come together without rushing them. I actually heard the egg crack, saw each ingredient meld into something entirely new.
THIS be one of those lessons to be learned while growing more, shall we say, mature. Hmm.
Never say never
Never, never, never, not ever
For shit will happen.
05/21/22 after my neighbor’s snow laden tree broke and fell on my car
Exactly 2:15 PM the wind whipped up twisting the trees, rattling the ristra outside the back door, and startled my budgie quietly snoozing on his perch after a morning of loudly chirping and tearing at the millet. So glad he is feeling at home enough to eat.
2:17 PM, the wind has stopped, all is quiet. I wonder who got riled up about what. Hmm, the Powers- That- Be should take note that it is rude to threaten havoc, only to chuckle and move on. Something like an annoying sibling who jumps out from behind the door, then just shrugs as you pick yourself up from the floor.
That’s about it for the day. I watered extensively this morning, front and back – before 10 AM, of course. I’ve learned to stop standing over the seeded soil in the back waiting for new grass to appear. It won’t, y’know, while I’m watching it. All I’ve tossed out over the last two months are beginning to appear, stretching into their tertiary leaves. I pray every day that they will grow before the squirrels realize there are bulbs, and sunflower seeds just under the surface. Little rats that they are.
The daylilies are reaching tall, and OH, I need to go plant the pumpkins and squash while I’m thinking of it…
To be continued…