Thursday, September 18, 2014

Caterpillars
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

All summer long they are out there chewing
on something that is unable to shoo away their
multitude of tiny, suckered feet.

Maybe it calls out to the birds,

“Come! Perch here! Eat these!”

And, some birds do, definitely,
and toads,
and mantises,
wasps with effective yet questionable tactics, those
ladybird beetles that you naively think are
so lovely and kind,

but there are still more
scissoring away at the edges, sculpting, stripping,
all feeling fully entitled to gluttony;
there will be no acknowledgement of sin, oh no,
no repenting, no statements of any kind that
end with

Amen.

I love them.

Every single one is perfect in its beingness,
and I needn’t struggle with the ethics of it all.

***

I listened to the evening news.

How much longer until the butterflies emerge?

I’m not sure that I have the patience to wait.



©2014/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"
To be published by Homebound Publications in October 2015

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Acorns
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Within an acorn resides an entire tree.

Imagine! How clever the gods; they perform
this act and better it, enlisting scads of forgetful squirrels
to do their Autumn planting. This world is so ordinarily
miraculous. I do hope that you have noticed.


© 2014/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Plant Songs" (a work in progress)

Sunday, September 14, 2014

On Living a Life
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


“Be without answers at the end of every day.

Start each morning with questions.

Do what you want in the in-between,
but be sure that it gets you muddy,
and wet, and perhaps a bruise just below
your right knee cap. The briars will require
that you mend that hem. If I were you, I’d go
about naming something that you’ve never
before seen. Then you will be able to call it
and it will come to you and you can have
delightful conversations.

Be sure to introduce yourself first, if you
know your own name,

And, get curious about it. Wonder. To do a good
job, this is a must. And, be polite. Always say
thank you; how this world became so lacking
in gratitude I just do not know. Such simple
gestures could save us all.

On with it, then. You have this life to live,

And, I haven’t got all day to sit
here on your window screen.”


“What’s that?

Oh, you are most welcome.”


This happened.



©2014/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"
To be published by Homebound Publications in October 2015

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Friday, September 12, 2014

This Drab-Brown Field Cricket
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

How many times must a soul vanish into the dark abyss
before it can be known by the body that has been conveying
it across holy ground?

Maybe, at some point, I’ll be able
to tell you.

Any heart that has dared be present in this world knows despair.
Despair is what frees us from our attachments to illusion,
what takes us back to that place where the three worlds touch.
Despair whispers, “Now, go forward. Follow this path.”

But, you have to love yourself enough
to be able to hear these words.

I’ve been watching how the ravens fly in tandem
over the hazy blue ridgelines,
and how mushrooms emerge after rains
with little clots of red clay
settled on their heads; evidence that their soft bodies
broke through something hard. And, I’ve also noticed how
the little native bees with metallic green bodies share
in my love of bold flowers.

It so easy to find the sacred; simply
stop believing
in the mythos of the profane.

This drab-brown field cricket, ambling her short life
through a maze of dead leaves and dying grasses,
is the next being I shall choose to worship.



©2014/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World" 
To be published by Homebound Publications in October 2015

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Saturday, August 23, 2014

Listening to the Rain



















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

When the rain falls,
steady and long from clouds
resting their thick arms here on
the mountain slope,
I wonder about solitude,
how it teaches you to listen in ways that 
prevent you from explaining meaningful things to another soul;
who wants to be labeled crazy and locked up by
people afraid to have their hearts broken?

What is loneliness?
I don’t know.

For now, I belong to this world.
To understand the language of raindrops,
you must first believe yourself worthy
of their kinship.


© 2014/Jamie K. Reaser
From “Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this Word”
To be published by Homebound Publications in October 2015

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Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Comedy and Tragedy
















Image: Origin Unknown


Prologue

“Comedy aims at representing
men as worse, Tragedy as better
than in actual life.”

~ Aristole, The Poetics


Act 1: Comedy

To be the common man is the art,
ordinary and prevailing, overcoming of
hard-dealt circumstance,
believable, as is our belief in our
smallness, that only some are gifted
divine madness,

chosen to be the sacred fool.

What you are viewing is a place
that we have all come to together;

this scene. Watch it unfold, carefully.

This is what the masterful actor longs for you
to read

between the lines:

It’s a sad plot that we are laughing our
way through because we don’t want
to know that bad things are happening to good
people,

like us.

“Good morning!”

in context of mass causalities.

Where should we shine the light?


Act 2: Tragedy

A god will fall through
fatal error or misjudgment

and find suffering in humility.

Ah, but let time pass this way and he will understand,
And, oh my,
the audience will fear his revelation,

how they want it for themselves but not at
such a terrible cost; the ticket for this show should come cheap.

He never got to play this role.

How should we cast the darkness?


The Finale

When the curtain closes, the
hero always rises.

But which mask was he wearing?


© 2014/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Portraits" (a work in progress)

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Sunday, August 10, 2014

Full Moon















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


If you are a sensitive soul,
your body is speaking now. Audible
memories rising. Dusk
descending from the mountain,
asking for the quiet
that comes after you’ve let

it all go, however you do that.

No beauty demands an audience, nor
needs to: Nature has well-

organized witnesses.

How many are awaiting her, and what will they
think of this world when she arrives? Is this about faith?
Is it a prayer? If so, what are we praying for tonight? It

could be about peace, as long as the parishioners realize that
peace is not a passive thing. I can’t pray for that, 
it would be like praying for nothingness
and I want the world to be full.

Two hours more,
while the bright green katydids rub themselves into song and
the screech owl worries the dogs with its tremolo.
I’ll wait, if I can, to make my offerings of gratitude:
I’ll look up as I’ve done for lifetimes and
be thankful for each month’s opportunity

to become human again.



© 2014/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World" (to be published by Homebound Publications in October 2015)

Feel free to share