Archive for February, 2012|Monthly archive page

DUST THOU ART

WHEN NOTHING STANDS STILL IN THIS WORLD. AS THE GROUND CRUMBLES BELOW YOU.

The homeless. No longer able to fit in at home. No longer able to fit into the main stream. Trying to tie all of this together, but with this lingering restlessness? Which sprang from a Fear of the Lord.

From an old culture where you had to know and memorize, instead of knowing just where you left it. In a library, on pre-recorded media. In a book. To really know who you are, when the resource center was closed at night, when the kids went out, you used to have to memorize.

Earthquakes. As the world became borderless once again. The disrupted home lives. When a man needed a woman to contribute some upheaval to his peaceful home life. As a home became more intense.

Institutional power. With all of the human rules. Taking sides. Ollie North. Ronald Reagan. Iran. Iraq. Sunnis. Shiities. As the military invented the internet, with certainly access to all the information that people voluntarily posted on websites. And your cellphone signal was jammed, or you were just outside the range?

When you no longer fit in here, as Muslims. Like a poet in the wake of her grief who said: “I am still in the space of missing him, and finding it odd to be one instead of two.”

For the children and grandchildren of war, homeless, and coming to need God. When you were removed by either distant miles or time from the way of life which you had grown up with. Healing the fears of the abandoned, which always involved a perspective of distance.

In exile. The disrupted home lives. Groundshifts. Graveyard services. As the meek inherit the earth. With the ensuing great doubts when you had comforts and lost them. Like hot water, a wife, or shared belief.

Abandoned. As the world became borderless once again. With all of the disrupted home lives. The feelings which move the story. Missing. In exile, when God was more and more left homeless. When the visible became invisible.

The exile, away from the Promise Land. Going home, post war, to a better and fairer future? With the distance and alienation in the story. Or the one you carried with you?

The conflict in the world between those with the desire to remember with those who have a need to forget. The refugees. The homeless. The war vet, drafted at a young age. Absorbed into false ideals of human glory. The callousness of humans walking by the hungry. Nations looking on. The threat which came from hunger. To each other.

Grieving, in ordinary times. The feelings which move the story – the deepest of feelings of denial, anger, fear after facing an end. The ebbs and flows. Homeless. And coming to need God. In the unknown human world. The ensuing great doubts of the refugees. The deep feelings of abandonment. The sin of pride and identity and nationalism. When restlessness was directed toward a competition.

The Wasteland. Over and over THE contrast of the desert, the contrast of dust, to fertile land and fertility. The inner tension of a nomad. Confronting greatness within. The biblical reference was to the desert. It was a Fear of the Lord by humans born in His Image and Likeness. And consequentially it made sense to have a fear of the greatness within. Over my own fertility in such a harsh world. It did involve sexuality. And the struggle to confront the greatness within, in a future.

Contemplate the Stone Age and what Adam and Eve lived through, before the battle of church and state. Establishing the proper degree of order, of love and desire. Establishing the systems of the world. Or just trying. With your fertility. If I was too a creator. If I had money. IF I was rich. If I had the energy. If I had kids. IF I had the discipline. If I lost it all?

Real fertility stories. True, or not so true? The fears with beginnings and ends. In stories. If I were a rich man.