When mankind contemplates the infinite, and ponders upon origins, he is often led to the conclusion, or hope, that there is meaning in the interplay of the natural forces that he sees about himself.

     And the concept of a Creator of everything, while uplifting, can be intimidating also.  To whom does one direct one’s prayers and supplications in the hope that that great All is not entirely oblivious and uncaring to the goings on of conscious beings?  How can one presume upon such a high being?

     The Catholics seem to have decided to not importune the High Creator so much, but to call upon lesser deities such as angels and the saints which they have determined can intercede for people.  Other religions have populated the cosmos with small gods also.

    This can be seen in the beliefs of the ancient Greeks, Hinduism and Shinto, and Sumer and many others, with the beliefs in many gods.  Shinto for example populates natural objects with spirits or kami.  Such beliefs people the natural world with spirits and essences, the spirit of a spring, or a boulder, a valley, mountains, etc.

     Thus one can possibly achieve one’s needs by consulting a lesser deity without bothering the supreme being

I was holding a great golden leaf that had fallen from a Big Leaf Maple last autumn.  It was much bigger than my hand, and it had fallen onto a wide carpet of these leaves that lay over my usual walking path.  I was admiring the pattern of veins that was revealed, marveling at the intricate and convoluted detail, and I began to think of the cells that made up the leaf.  I thought of how normally this beautiful yellow color was hidden by the green chlorophyll in the leaves.  As the winter approached the chlorophyll in the cells broke down revealing the other pigments that were in the cell.

The green chlorophyll is contained in the chloroplasts, tiny organelles which are hypothesized to have been once free living cells of blue-green algae which gave up their independence eons ago to begin living inside other prokaryotic cells, eventually becoming specialized as centers of photosynthesis for the larger cell (see endosymbiotic theory).  I thought of the interior of these green chloroplasts, little oblong structures with a double membrane and with stacks (the granum) of disc-like membranes (thylakoids) inside, which was embedded within a matrix (stroma) where the chemical reactions of photosynthesis occurs.  I thought of these reactions which used the energy of the sun and the raw materials of carbon dioxide and water to make sugars and give off oxygen as a byproduct.

I got to musing about it all, and I thought that perhaps that with a complete knowledge of the workings of the cells in these leaves,  photosynthesis being just one process, one could explain the entire tree.  That is by understanding the workings of its parts, we could understand how the entire tree functioned.  Maybe it was possible to extend this knowledge and figure out how animal cells functioned, and from that knowledge we could progress to the understanding of the individual animal.   Perhaps from understanding one tree’s function and the workings of one animal, we could go on from there and explain the workings of the entire forest ecosystem.

I drew myself mentally to a halt.  Perhaps I was starting this process from the wrong level.  Perhaps I needed to go down further…into the workings of molecules, of atoms, of atomic particles, of the very basic particles of the universe.  If we knew how these particles worked, could we proceed from there and explain everything on the macro level?  And as physicists say there are only four forces that run the universe: gravity, electromagnetism, and the strong and weak nuclear forces, could we start with these four forces and proceed to explain everything?

I raised my eyes to look upon the mist floating through the forest, glowing in the light of the rising sun, the golden and crimson leaves of the great trees contrasting with the dark greens of the fir, and I began to wonder.  Could quantum mechanics and the actions of subatomic particles explain this ineffable sense that I felt when I looked upon such beauty?  Could it explain the sense of wonder that I had?  Could it explain my sense of self?  Could it explain consciousness?

I was reading this incredible book (God’s Demon by Wayne Barlowe) about the demons of hell and the story of one demon who attempted to regain Heaven and I came across this character called Lilith.  I had heard of Lilith before, of course, but I really knew nothing about her.

Much has been written about Lilith.  There were stories of demons named Lilitu and Lilu in ancient Sumeria and Assyria which took on various attributes, but  often interacted with people in a number of sexual ways.    One source describes her as:

“A female demon of the night who supposedly flies around searching for newborn children either to kidnap or strangle them. Also, she sleeps with men to seduce them into propagating demon sons. Legends told about Lilith are ancient. The rabbinical myths of Lilith being Adam’s first wife seem to relate to the Sumero-Babylonian Goddess Belit-ili, or Belili. To the Canaanites, Lilith was Baalat, the “Divine Lady.” On a tablet from Ur, ca. 2000 BCE, she was addressed as Lillake. ”

There are many ancient allusions to her, but the accounts that I find the most interesting is the references to her from Jewish FolkloreSome of these stories said that God created Lilith before Eve as quoted below from an article in Wikipedia. The photograph is also from Wikipedia:

“After God created Adam, who was alone, He said, ‘It is not good for man to be alone.’ He then created a woman for Adam, from the earth, as He had created Adam himself, and called her Lilith. Adam and Lilith immediately began to fight. She said, ‘I will not lie below,’ and he said, ‘I will not lie beneath you, but only on top. For you are fit only to be in the bottom position, while I am to be the superior one.’ Lilith responded, ‘We are equal to each other inasmuch as we were both created from the earth.’ But they would not

listen to one another. When Lilith saw this, she pronounced the Ineffable Name and flew away into the air.”

The angels chased after Lilith to bring her back but she would not come, agreeing to one hundred of her babies dying each year as a penalty, but having dominion over boy babies by causing them sickness for eight days after birth, and female babies for twenty days after birth.

When the angels insisted on returning her, she agreed to leave the babies alone if they wore an amulet with the likenesses or names of the angels upon it.  Thus for over a thousand years the Jewish people made amulets for their children to ward off her daughters who were called the Lilim.

Thus two traditions of stories portray Lilith in two ways: one as an incarnation of lust that leads men astray, and another as a baby strangling witch.  Here is an interesting account of the legends.

Long ago I read an early English comparison of a man’s life to that of a sparrow, who flies through a mead hall out of a stormy winter’s night.  The sparrow is briefly exposed to the light, warmth and safety of the hall before it vanishes back into the night and storm.  I have always remembered this and have thought of how apt it was, but I had forgotten the reference until now. 

         I looked it up and found that this story was told by The Venerable Bede in his The Ecclesiastical History of the English People.  In Northumbria of the seventh century, King Edwin called a meeting to decide if missionaries should be allowed to preach.  Paulinus had tried to convert Edwin to become a Christian, but Edwin wished to consult his friends and advisors.  The chief priest Coifi recommended that Edwin follow the teaching of Christianity, and another advisor agreed saying:

“The present life of man upon earth, O King, seems to me in
comparison with that time which is unknown to us like the
swift flight of a sparrow through mead-hall where you sit
at supper in winter, with your Ealdormen and thanes,
while the fire blazes in the midst and the hall is warmed,
but the wintry storms of rain or snow are raging abroad.
The sparrow, flying in at one door and immediately out
at another, whilst he is within, is safe from the wintry
tempest, but after a short space of fair weather, he im-
mediately vanishes out of your sight, passing from winter
to winter again. So this life of man appears for a
little while, but of what is to follow or what went before
we know nothing at all. If, therefore, this new doctrine
tells us something more certain, it seems
justly to be followed in our kingdom.”

The below site depicts a sparrow in flight through such a mead hall:

http://www.pastperfect.org.uk/sites/yeavering/images/sparrowclip_c.html

           We are self-aware entities cursed, or blessed, with the foreknowledge of our personal extinction.  We realize that our passage through this amazing universe is a short, fleeting journey.  And as we pass along, our journey seems to accelerate, and with growing apprehension, we watch the wonders flash by us as we approach the inevitable.

          Our actions become influenced by this foreknowledge.  We grasp at the flashing seconds, trying to savor more fully the fleeting, evanescent scenes that seem as dreams as we pass by,  looking back with astonishment like travelers in a speeding train, trying to discern the landscape behind us that passes into shifting mist and then is lost.

           A blessing and, yes, a curse.  But as our existence accelerates, we can make a conscious decision to…put on the brakes, to pause and examine closely, in detail, each moment like a precious golden coin, squeezed between our fingers, savoring the details, the look, the touch, the taste and realizing that in this great universe there are wonders beyond belief and imagination, beyond comprehension, and then we can appreciate how incredibly blessed we are to have had this journey, not only to have had it, but to have been fully conscious of its wonders.

           Make a conscious decision now to decide just exactly what it is in this life that is important to you.  Decide this and then decide to consciously be aware of each precious moment.  Then take it and live it!

Sometimes I get irritated…irritated at the shifting nature of reality.  Change, always change, like quicksilver…when I think I have it, it morphs, chameleon-like into something else.  People I knew in my youth have grown grey, wrinkled.  I expect people to act the same, but they don’t.  Why do I have to constantly readjust my way of thinking about things?  Why can’t I rest, complacent, comforted by the thought that at last I have it.  Why am I always knocked about by that irritating, shifting veil (Maya) out there?  Why do I always have to be on my toes, ready to dodge the next encounter?  Why must…I change?

And yet I have met people who don’t seem to change.  They live out their lives stuck in an ancient mode, ossified…inflexible…  Are they happier this way?

I just read this:  “They say that the moment of death can be terrifying, especially when it comes suddenly and one is unprepared. No one wakes up in the morning and thinks, today I will die in an accident, today I’ll be murdered, but one never knows. So prepare. In order to meet death consciously and with a composed mind, begin each day with a death poem.”

   As I have said many times before, I often use this forum to explore certain subjects about which I am totally ignorant.   I recently became curious about justice and mercy.

          Below is the definition of both from the free online dictionary:

Justice:

1. The quality of being just; fairness.

2. a. The principle of moral rightness; equity.

b. Conformity to moral rightness in action or attitude; righteousness.

3. a. The upholding of what is just, especially fair treatment and due reward in accordance with honor, standards, or law.

b. Law The administration and procedure of law.

4. Conformity to truth, fact, or sound reason: The overcharged customer was angry, and with justice.

Mercy

1. Compassionate treatment, especially of those under one’s power; clemency.

2. A disposition to be kind and forgiving: a heart full of mercy.

3. Something for which to be thankful; a blessing: It was a mercy that no one was hurt.

4. Alleviation of distress; relief: Taking in the refugees was an act of mercy.

          In one sense the two qualities seem to be contradictory:  if one is just then how can one be merciful?  If one receives justice then one is getting what one deserves.  If one receives mercy then one is not getting what one deserves.

         And yet the idea of justice not tempered by mercy appears repugnant.  But how should these qualities be meted out? 

         Justice in the hands of the people can lead to vigilantism, whereas too much mercy in the hands of the government can lead to contempt of the law and perhaps socialism. 

          If one knows that one can expect not justice but mercy when breaking a law then it can lead to increased breaking of the laws.  

    Obviously a careful balence between the two is needed.  It appears that people have been discusing this primordial conflict between Justice and Mercy for many years with many scholarly tomes written on the subject.   Obviously I need to think about this further.

      By the way: HAVE A GREAT CHRISTMAS!  My father is coming to visit the day after Christmas for two weeks, so I shall probably be absent for a while.

It was with sorrow that I recently read of Tony Hillerman’s death.  Mr. Hillerman was of course the author of many fine books, with perhaps the series about the Navajo policemen, Joe Leaphorn and Jim Chee, being his most famous.  Hillerman presented these mystery stories in the context of the Navajo culture, showing the difficulties that modern Navajos face and at the same time instructing the reader in the culture.

If you haven’t read Hillerman’s novels then you have a rare treat ahead of you.  If I were just beginning his novels then I would start at the beginning and read each in chronological order.  One thing that he describes in lovely evocative detail is the land in the four corners area.  He describes the canyons, the desert, the plants, the colors, the weather in such a way that, although I have been through this area before, he makes me want to go back and spend time there.

However, what made me want to write a note about him was a passage that I was just reading in his second book, The Dance Hall of the Dead. Leaphorn, the Navajo policeman, was standing by some men who were digging the body of a brutally murdered boy from an embankment.  As the men dug the body out in a slow methodical sort of way,  Leaphorn was watching the sunrise and how it shown and illuminated the buttes and canyons of the area.  He seemed to be concentrating on the beauty before him and not upon the horrendous scene unfolding at his feet.

Here is another passage in the words of Jim Chee which reflects his peoples attitude toward not only beauty but of the interconnectedness of this existence:

“Everything is connected. The wing of the corn beetle effects the direction of the wind, the way the sand drifts, the way the light reflects into the eye of man beholding his reality. All is part of totality, and in this totality man finds his horzo, his way of walking in harmony, with beauty all around him.”

The Navajo people have this sense of appreciating the beauty around us and have written several poems, chants and prayers about it.  The following is one version of a prayer from the Navajo Nightway Chant:

Beauty is before me

and

Beauty behind me, above me and

below me hovers the beautiful.

I am surrounded by,

I am immersed in it.

In my youth, I am aware of it,

and, in old age,

I shall walk quietly the beautiful trail.

In beauty it is begun.

In beauty it is ended.

I pray that I will be able to “walk quietly the beautiful trail.”

     The idea of simplicity in our lives seems to be growing in our awareness.  We find that in an increasingly complex existence, simplification has an immense appeal.  We seem to have too many things, and our lives become filled with clutter, both physically and mentally.  Sometimes we yearn for simpler times when the world was easier to comprehend.  However, as I talked about in the Haiku section, simplicity can in itself be extremely complex, e.g.  fly fishing, ideograms, haiku.  Most activities, if enough skill is involved, can be reached through hard effort only, where the inherent complexity is reduced to apparent simplicity.  And beliefs…does one begin with elaborate formulations of thought only to simplify with study and time?  Do the gods and goddesses with their elaborate history become over time the one god and then a generalized “creator” that has no corporeality of any type?

     The movement toward simplicity seems to be spreading.  David Bruno has started what he calls the 100 Thing Challenge.  He is attempting to whittle his possessions down to just 100 items (See Time Magazine article June 5, 2008).  One thing this effort taught him was deciding what was really important in his life.

       I have only once experienced the exhilaration that comes from having almost nothing.  I was living in an apartment at the time and awoke about 3 am for some reason.  The door to my bedroom was half open and I could see a flickering orange light reflecting on it.  I rose and rushed into the living room to see that a fire had started in the corner of the apartment.  As I looked for something to put it out, the flames caught a large paper Japanese lantern that hung in the corner and with a loud whoosh and crackle the lantern, the curtains, the couch practically exploded in flames.  There I was, naked, the heat singing my face, my hair.  I could hear the window glass break and the distant shouts of somebody on the street.  Dense choking smoke filled the room.

     The smart thing to have done was to immediately leave the apartment…but I was unclothed, and loathe to run naked out on to the cold January streets.  So I ran back into the bedroom, pulled on a pair of blue jeans, ran back into blazing living room and tried to open the door which led into the hall way.  For some reason the door stuck, and at the first few tugs refused to open.  Since this had never happened before, I am not sure of the cause.  Perhaps the door expanded in the heat, or there was a pressure differential caused by  the superheated air.  I felt a moment that almost verged on panic, but then with a great tug I was able to open the door and go out into the pitch black hallway.   If I had been smart, I would have gotten to my hands and knees and crawled along that choking hall.  The next day I could see where its walls were darkend by the black smoke to within a foot of the floor.  Instead, choking on the smoke, I groped my way to the stairway door and made my way down to the first floor and then outside.

     Later, going to the hospital wearing nothing but my blue jeans, no shirt and no shoes (no service?), I felt a sense of release thinking about the loss of all my possessions (few though they were at the time!).  A new start!  A new beginning with nothing to tie or weigh me down.   I remember this sense of freedom and exhilaration today, when I ponder the immense burden of possessions that weighs my life down.  I think of the 100 Thing Challenge and wonder if it might be a worthwhile endeavor.  I would have to exclude my books from the calculation of course!

More infliction… 

Leave Taking 

 Shall I leave in the summer

 while cicadas shrill and

The nights are full of gardenia

and honeysuckle?

Or shall I leave in Autumn

with Crimson maples and

The harvest moon?

Perhaps in Winter with

the sting of sleet and

the rattle of bare branches

in a hopeless wind?

No! I want to go in

early Spring with

crocus and nodding daffodils

in a light mist with

rain dripping from the eaves…

“May I live simply, that others may simply live.” Mahatma Ghandhi 

I thought that I might put some of my poems in some of my posts.  This is one:

Reflection

When you ponder the

Calendar of your days,

Do you recall the times

Of strife, of betrayal,

Of heartbreak?

Or…do you recall the

Quiet calm times filled

With beauty and tranquility?

Basho (Matsuo Kinsaku–ca. 1644-1694) was one of the most influential of the Japanese poets, famous for his hakai and clear haiku poems.  I first encountered him while reading some of his accounts of his wanderings across Japan in which he combined his description of the journey with his poetry (The Narrow Road to the Deep North). Check the links for more on the life of this wonderful man.  I will be adding some of my favorites of his poems in the days to come…

This first fallen snow
is barely enough to bend
the jonquil leaves

Into the ancient pond
A frog jumps
Water’s sound!

(see here for 30 translations of this poem, probably the most famous in Japan)

Breaking the silence
Of an ancient pond,
A frog jumped into water —
A deep resonance.

On a withered branch
a crow is perched:
an autumn evening.

Wikipedia article

A very readable account of his life…part of this wonderful site

Some say that when the Buddha began his travels throughout India, two guardians followed him in order to protect him. These Nio brothers, were manifestations of the protector deity Vajrapani. Adopted by Japan into their own pantheon, the Nio, or Benevolent Kings, often stand at the entrance to Buddhist temples to guard the grounds from demons and thieves.

These fierce wrath-filled figures stand in wrestler-like postures. Named after particular cosmic sounds, Agyo stands with his mouth open baring his teeth; his hand is outstretched and he bears a thunderbolt stick–a symbol of overt violence. He is uttering the sound “Ah” meaning birth. The fierce figure on the other side of the entrance, has a closed mouth and is called Ungyo and relates to “un” or “om” meaning death. He stands straighter and wields a sword and symbolizes latent strength.

“Ah” is the first letter in the Sanskrit alphabet and “Un” is the last (similar to Japanese also), and thus the combination of these figures represent all possible outcomes from Alpha to Omega in the cosmic dance of existence. It is interesting that these muscular Nio brothers may have been inspired from the Greek god Hercules adapted from the Hellenistic culture of Central Asia.

I find this highly interesting…this fusion of western belief with Indian, and then the fusion of Indian beliefs with those of China’s Taoism, and then the peculiar blend of such a fusion, Zen Buddhism with Japan’s shintoism. The beliefs vary in their details, but it seems to me that in this syncretism there is some underlying motif to it all…some underlying truth that different cultures seem to sense.  And if there are universal “truths,” then we we would expect them to endure and to be expressed in religions world wide.  Perhaps we can search out these underlying truths to inspire us as we go through our own personal “cosmic dance of existence.”

Sunday, April 17, 2008, 12:46 PDT

ADDENDUM:  I happened to come across this entry the day after I had written the above.  The similarity of thought here is remarkable.

Every May when the large rhododendron by the driveway begins to bloom, eventually producing this incredibly lovely display of pink blossoms that cover the entire plant, I begin to feel this tension. As I drive out every morning I stop and roll down my car window and look at the exquisite details in the pink flowers–the stamens, the pistil, the small brown speckles in the throat of the flower. At night when I return they seem to glow in the darkness welcoming me home.

And yet at the very height of the blooming period, I begin to experience a curious feeling of delight and apprehension. When I first felt this tension upon viewing the flowers, I was confused as to its origin. Why should I experience this sensation? Then as the blooming period reached its zenith and the flowers begin to turn brown and fall about the base of the huge plant, I understood. As I gazed on the brown withered blossoms clinging to the plant and strewn about the ground, I knew that the sweet, exquisite loveliness of the blossoms was transient, fleeting, and that soon they would wither and die. The presence of such exuberant life in sharp juxtaposition with decay and death produced this tension in me–produced a mixture of sweet melancholy and joy at the same time.

Upon reflection I realize that I have often had this particular feeling throughout my life. I remember once looking at the hand of a girl that I was holding. Moonlight shown down on us, and as I looked at her hand in mine, I thought of the beauty of the smooth flesh and how soon it would in the not too distant future become wrinkled and old before it eventually turned to dust. I became filled with a sense of how transient life was and a sadness filled me. “Bones,” I muttered which caused her to jerk her hand back in surprise.

I felt the same emotion reading war time letters from my father to his family and looking at photographs of him and my mother during that turbulent time. I felt it especially strong looking at photographs of my father and his best friend. They had grown up together in a small Texas town, gone to the same schools, played football on the same team. This friend had a car and would carry my father and my mother about during their courtship. They both had graduated on a Friday and both went into the military service on Monday–my father into the Army-Airforce, and his best friend into the Marines. I used to look at their picture together standing in front of my father’s house with their arms on each other’s shoulders —two young men with all their lives ahead of them.  My father lived through the war and now has children, grandchildren and great grandchildren and is still alive and healthy today at age eighty-three. His friend? He died a hero’s death at Iwo Jima and was awarded the Navy Cross. He lies in the black sands of that bloody island far from the dusty west Texas town in which he grew up.  Youth, promise…transience…

There were many other times that I felt this melancholy, this sadness, and I was surprised to learn that the Japanese had already recognized this emotion centuries ago and had even applied a term to it: “mono no aware” (AH-wah-reh, three syllables, with the accent on the first). “The phrase is derived from the word aware, which in Heian Japan meant sensitivity or sadness, and the word mono, meaning things, and describes beauty as an awareness of the transience of all things, and a gentle sadness at their passing.” This sense of the precariousness of life and the certainty of its passing permeates Japanese art, poetry, music and religion.

4October2007, 9:37 pm

A while back, I became interested in the idea of what it would mean to lead a simple life. I found this one religion/philosophy which seems to embrace this idea. Some of it’s major tenets are: