Friday, March 18, 2011

Adam's Sacrifice - Reprise

The Creation Of Adam

This poem glances off the myth that informs one facet of my spiritual walk. I say of my life that it is a gesture of witness. I am not gathering witness of everything but only of certain things aimed at a kind of legal argument, something like that. Not really legal but as if I was an attorney gathering for an upcoming arqument and this with no less than God as the judge. As if I could ever win... But still, it is intensely important that I present the human side. That of course is the witness, the human side of the thing.

It is so beautiful here, such a wonderful chance. It is beyond belief the miracle and all that. But it is matched and more by the pain and loss. The price is too steep. That the Buddhist first principle has to be "all life is suffering", that is too much, too big. That you or I or anyone can decide that it is all too much and decide to quit in some way, that you or I or anyone really cannot be blamed even as we withdraw from such a person to protect ourselves or they withdraw to be free of persecution, all this is too steep a price. That is the argument, that it costs too much here.

Adam's Sacrifice

That you should require
My separation from you
Is what baffles me.
It feels bleak and hard
That I must walk out the door.

I know I started
This situation in truth
By my argument
And I think I'm right
But still, what a steep deep price.

And on top of it,
At the high capstone,
You want me to do this thing
As if willingly.

January 7, 2009 11:51 AM
First Posted, May 28, 2009

As I say, this is a myth and only one side of spiritual things for me. I deeply honor the Bodhisattva ideal also:

Guanyin, Bodhisattva of Compassion

Wiki says: Guanyin is the bodhisattva associated with compassion as venerated by East Asian Buddhists, usually as a female. The name Guanyin is short for Guanshiyin which means "Observing the Sounds (or Cries) of the World". She is also sometimes referred to as Guanyin Pusa (simplified Chinese: 观音菩萨; pinyin: Guānyīn Púsà; Wade–Giles: Kuan-yin Pu-sah; literally "Bodhisattva Guanyin"). Some Buddhists believe that when one of their adherents departs from this world, they are placed by Guanyin in the heart of a lotus then sent home to the western pure land of Sukhāvatī.

It is generally accepted (in the Chinese community) that Guanyin originated as the Sanskrit Avalokiteśvara (अवलोकितेश्वर), which is her male form. Commonly known in English as the Mercy Goddess or Goddess of Mercy, Guanyin is also revered by Chinese Taoists (sometimes called Daoists) as an Immortal. However, in Taoist mythology, Guanyin has other origination stories which are not directly related to Avalokiteśvara.


  1. this morning over bacon and eggs i was thinking some of the same, that birth/being born is so so hard. that no matter how much we are loved, my god, we are alone. it is a painful state of alone that we struggle to escape our entire lives, i think. and yet as long as we're living we can never quite escape as it is simply how we are constructed, single souls on this single self journey. and so we are drawn, aren't we, beyond this single state, toward something larger, less lonely, whether that be through love or family and friends, behind the shield of acquisition and power, or through drugs or alcohol - a persistant trial at escape, or through mindful and open living, perhaps revelation. and yet still we are alone. and so we go to the hill and we witness the tree, the sky, the bird. witness beauty. and still we are alone, although now though it is less unbearable.

    i look at my children and think, i can not love you enough. i love you with all that i am as a mother and i grieve for you and i yearn to love you even more but to love you more i have to take your life, your burden, and live it for you. and of course, that takes from them their delight, their lessons, their journey. and so i watch them go off and i am a steady five feet from them as the chickadee was in the tree for me this weekend. close so close but still, i was alone.

    so i come home. i take off my jacket. i come here. i witness you. you witness me. the journey is less unbearable. it is in fact magical beautiful at times. deeply painful. always interesting. never over.


  2. Holy shit, take this one and post it if you haven't already. I love you straight up sweet woman. Spice girl.

    No, we cannot love each other enough, although at this late date in my own life I notice that the aloneness of my state is not that much in high relief as it is in your description. Instead I find the trouble to be the hurt, and not really my hurt but all the rest of it. Mine is not so bad to bear, my space is not so thorny, but two blocks over someone is dying of pain (you really can and it is usually slow unless you act) and over somewhere else the children are suffering worse than death. And I say "TOO MUCH! TOO STEEP THE PRICE FOR A FUCKING BEAUTIFUL FLOWER!" But that is really, I try to say just me, just my path and I am really okay if I am alone in it.

    But I am not alone. I do have people. They really do care. I know I am not so easily approached even though I am wide open. Maybe not so open as I like to think.

    Anyway, I fell for you long ago and am really quite grateful for your participation with me. We play well with each other I think. My best to Robert, if you don't mind. And the kids. I rarely mention your children but I never really forget they are there. So my best to them too.

  3. Christopher((())))
    what a world we live in
    and yet what a gift to know you.


  4. I feel your frustration.There are many things in my life that I have to pay WAY TO STEEP A PRICE FOR. Love being one of those. My childhood as well. This poem hits me dead center, on the dot, bulls eye. This post is to high a price to pay(mine not yours)-you know me there is no spell check, no advice bar. So I give you one of my most intimate fears; if I wright they will know: that i can't spell, that I cant differintiate from the different spellings of the same word, that I cant bluff here. This is real, no hidden meanings, no double talk. This is a price that I have felt was to high to pay. To bad, I'll have to pay it any way, this was but my first installment. To leave or not to leave is a painfull place to be, And I'm not willing damnit, not willing. I shouldnt have to be. I love this poem, but I hate the way I feel when I dwell on it. With love, He ment well.

  5. Ask me what I tried to post. The internet gods must have been hungry. They ate it! and it was to painfull to write again.

    He ment well

  6. Dear He,
    The comments, coming on an old blog, were flagged by Blogger as Spam and went into a box where they were waiting my moderation. Perhaps they told you in some way but you didn't notice.

    Spam is commonly posted to the older published pieces. I had to delete one post I had on my uncle who was a pro wrestler because my nod to the WWF was a draw to spam.

    As for your comments, perhaps this is the reason you feel connected to me more than all the others, that I know this place. As I posted, it is not all sides of the issue, only one side. The point is to not deny this side, and yet not deny the other sides too. Any reconciliation of life has to include all of life.
    With love to you, my friend.


The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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