Mark Gowan's Blog, page 16

Arrogance

When the arrogance of humanity becomes too much.

For those who have thought about sharing their homes ther...

For those who have thought about sharing their homes there is only one answer: do it. Whether it is fostering an animal in need or inviting a stranger in for coffee, home is among other things a place to share.

A comfortable place to put your stuff, yes. An abode to put your feet up and relax, it should be. Home ought be a place of comfort and security, of contentment, of letting your guard down, and letting your muscles go from taught to teetering.

Be faithful to your home, and make it your own. Home is a place to be happy. Home is our own, and if we have one we should consider ourselves lucky.

There was a time when naivete was the norm, and home was taken for granted. But those days are over and no longer hidden in the fog of innocence.

Kindness does not have to last for months or days, but simply for hours. Home, however, ought to last for a lifetime.

From Poems from a Recent Future

Days

The days went by, leaves in the wind; just passing and falling to the earth.

Yes, we watch them; not all of them, one or two perhaps, and then we were bored.

The days offered nothing anymore; we looked for new ways, new entertainment but could find none.

we were left alone with our days.

They came to us like clockwork until, in the end, we were sick of days and felt as a goose must feel,

locked in a box and propped with corn.

We bloated ourselves on our days and we the last one finally did come, we begged pitifully for more.

A Christmas Wish

A Christmas wish. So simple. To you, and to me.

All the light flickers in the night and into our eyes. A smile on our lips, a glimmer of happy thoughts.

Words, from thoughts unspoken, unselfish, our intentions are clear, always there.

Give so much, ask for so little. We can be Christmas all year round.

The flickering lights from the night never leaves.

Down to the tree, so beautiful and innocent in the window. So proud and smiling, shared.

If I had one wish to take, I’d wish happiness, never-ending love, sunshine and days.

Days filled with joy, and flickering lights in our eyes.

A Christmas wish. So simple. So wonderful.

Merry Christmas!

Humbleness

While not a comfortable feeling, the feeling of being humbled is healthy. It reminds us that we are human, that we are limited, and that we can learn if we give ourselves a chance. It doesn’t matter what it is that we are humbled by as long as it is truthful, worthwhile, perhaps virtuous.

Do not being fooled by false humbleness or being tricked by things not worthy of being humbled. Be humbled when it is warranted. You will know this. It grows through passion, an honest desire to do better and to realize when there are those that are capable. Don’t have idles.

There is no easy way to be humbled other than putting yourself in difficult situations, making yourself vulnerable and accepting that your best is maybe not good enough. These things are reminders that we are living and that we have a lot to learn if we choose to listen, to try. To put down our facades and face the truth that we might not be able, that we might not understand.

To learn is uncomfortable. To live is difficult. To admit is embarrassing. Do these things and watch how far you can go.

Excerpt from Poems From a Different Past

#3

Coming back from NYC-it’s a place that once was beautiful and now walks in its filth and yet, calls itself beautiful.

It’s a place that has all and yet gives away nothing free.

It is a place that has a welcome mat in its doorway and a gun in its kitchen.

It is a place where people have proven that money is god and god is money.

It is a place of fear, gossip, destitution, fortune and meaningless black anger.

It is a place of lonely crowds, crowded madmen, mad crowds and lonely madmen.

New York is a place that knows nothing and is all knowing; is nothing and thinks that it is everything.

New York is a caricature of humankind, a farce, a joke, a good fuck on a rainy day, a pimp-bitch.

It is a place of joy and dreams and dreams of joy; past, futures and future pasts, genius and chimps, want-to-be’s and stupid attitudes.

It is a place of lost religions: dumb doilies, saints, elephants, swords and pillars, bellowing ministers.

New York is the place of ending and human sacrifice; no-goods and “why me”, suits, ties and Halloween.

It is the place of no reason and shallow culture; those underlings of ignorance and high aspirations.

New York is the achievement of whores for those who do not want to know anything; the house that is filthy and proud; the worthless shit of forgotten sewage.

New York is humanity, cluttered in its quick and hidden remorse; sheltered by its looming doom and peaceful with its ghosts.

It is the place where gods and thieves dine together at the table of many on the bodies of the few, not knowing that death lays in the plate.

New York is what New York was destined to be, never was, always will be, has been, not for long, forever.

The Crux

“Extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice,” he said. “Moderation in the pursuit of justice is no virtue.” -Barry Goldwater

Such quotes as Barry Goldwater’s are not limited to politics. Such attitudes persist at every level. It is easy to let difficult conversations slide, small slights made on the sly pass.

The attitude becomes, “It’s not worth it.”

But it is. It is necessary. Because not all claims are hard and fast, backed clearly by evidence, because not all claims are zero sum, because not all claims are made clearly with their intent out front, easily identified.

The question to Goldwater’s quote might be: “Why is it worth it?”

And even then it will tempting to say, “No.”

But we must always keep one question in particular in mind because with every slight, every inconsideration, with every smiling lie, with every irresponsible decision made in dark rooms and in dining rooms, with every selfish endeavor and choice to simply look away and walk off we answer another question.

What kind of society do we want to live in?

The Value of Money

We are born into a system. There is seldom choice, but simply the sense that we are herded and pointed. Trying to do the right thing we find the impossibility of it overwhelming. Soon there is no time to care, but only the urgent need to find value or bury the longing we have for it.

Money is easy. We want, we desire. And money is able to give us those things we want and we desire. Money. It gives us safety and security and it motivates us. It changes us. It makes us into its image. Soon we have forgotten that we have no choice and we do not feel the prodding of the stick in our sides as we are moved along the metal shoot.

It all becomes so easy. To get money we must work and so work, that indelible, human concept, becomes something we must do rather than a passion that we desire. Work brings us that single thing that we have now come to desire. Work is a means to an end. Work. It takes our time up and defines our worth.

The value of money is that we no longer need to care but simply to move. There is not time to slow down or the gentle prodding becomes a sharp pain in our sides. No longer caring what we do. No longer caring how we do it. Our work is defined for us and we are given ways to fill our lives up, themselves ways of making money for some. We become a number.

This, the number, is the value of money.

Truth

Truth will catch up. No matter what we say, or do, or believe, or hope, or dream about, or desire. Truth will override, overrun, and out pace. It has time, and time reveals persistently. It may start as an uneasy feeling or maybe giddy excitement. It may be as simple as a statement made without thinking. But, truth will have its day.

It’s not always popular, that old minion, Truth. It holds its own and doesn’t care for opinion. It has no filter and no social graces. It has no one that it must answer to. It answers to itself and that it what Truth abides by, itself. Truth is not always invited to the parties and the get-togethers. But it is there, nevertheless, with a smile on its face.

Truth is the only friend to trust. It is the only friend that will not hold back, not give in. It will not abide ignorance or arrogance. It will not smile when a frown is called for. It will not worry about yours or my feelings. It will simply be and it expects no less from its friends, which are few.

We can lie and Truth knows it. We can turn away, and Truth remains. We can hide, but Truth will not come looking. It simply waits because it knows that one day we will need it to be what it is.

Those Little Things

So easy to miss and so important, those little things that we pass by without a thought. They grow between the cracks unnoticed and we, always on our way to some other place or thinking about some other thing don’t even forget. We simply don’t notice.

Little blades of grass, little flowers and the bees in those flowers. The hawk sitting on a powerline wondering what the hurry is. On our phone while our dogs enjoy the sunshine and the smells. Dismissing what we deem as unimportant.

Those little things like consideration for others, respect for our neighbors. We are busy. We are not aware. We have excuses but we don’t notice those after a while. so easy to miss and so important, those little things that we pass by without a thought.

Just like the cracks and crevices in our lives, that other thing, some other place. we don’t forget. we simply don’t notice. And what is the hurry? Why are we not down on our knees with our dogs enjoying the smells and learning about what we so easily dismiss.

Well, it’s just those little things, after all.