r. hertz

Found a whole bunch of old poems, song lyrics, and other writings that I thought were gone for good... fun to look back at these after several years.

( Here are a number of them... )

bitter winter days,
reminiscent of my death,
with their longer nights

I have friends

think we have five more years
before everybody's favorite skeleton

comes alive.

go somewhere without question

like the sun makes you move.
just like the sun makes me see you moving.

like the water, go where you are going.

go straight, only go straight.

Is there a way to test the degree of truth represented by human conceptualizations? Recently, a friend allowed me the opportunity to skim over a few chapters of a book by a man named Dr. David Hawkins. Dr. Hawkins has several combinations of letters after his name, so we know his ideas are a big deal. He claims to have discovered a method of determining what degree of truth is represented by just about any discrete object or idea you can name. Everything from books to people long dead can now be ranked from 0 to 1000. The test is very simple. Just hold whatever object you'd like to test (to test a dead person, you just have to write their name on a piece of paper and crumple it up, or maybe use a picture) in your hand and place it against your chest. Next, hold your other arm out to your side and have somebody ask, "Is this object greater than 100?" and then have them push on your hand. If your hand goes down, then its truth is less than 100, but if it stays up it's more truthful than 100. Now just keep doing this until you narrow down just how truthful the thing in your hand is. ... ... ... ... .... ...... ?!?!?!

Oh, one more thing... the person holding the thing to their chest has to be ranked at 200 or above, so if this method doesn't seem to work for you, you might want to talk to your physician. Dr. Hawkins has written an entire series of books on spiritual truth based on this premise. It's a nice idea, however misguided and ridiculous.

Hawkins equates the level of truth of an object or idea to its level of consciousness. Something with a value of 1000 would basically be God, whereas something closer to zero would be... I don't know what.

Is not every single thing perfectly and truthfully itself? A rock should rate 1000, as it is exactly what it is. If it rates any less, this can only be a flaw in the understanding of the person holding the rock. Falsehood is a uniquely human endeavor. Same goes for value.

What about you? About God? You are perfectly the entire universe; though perhaps slightly confused about what that means. Any god constructed in the human mind is incomplete. Thus, all religion is conceptually incomplete, while still a perfect expression. However, perfect expression requires no religion. Theism and Atheism are also incomplete. Can you tell me why?

the fragile little heads
inside your mind,

they are going to be gone.

funny-legged heads
and all their friends,

on their way home.

my good friend was
struck down. big tree struck

him down. my good friend.

he is everywhere around.

Where do you think you are going?
You ought to stop chasing your own tail,
'cause there's a lot of pain in this world.

My friend ran through the rain,
and it never stopped falling down on her.
Who exactly do you think you are?

I leave my food bowl everywhere.
I leave my food bowl everywhere I go,
from the Shining Rock of Blue Ridge
to the living reefs of Cabo Pulmo.

there is a way to be
without you or me,
but it doesn't begin
anywhere we can see.

it doesn't begin anywhere,
it definitely never ends anywhere.

oh my dumb brother,
flowers shrivel, they die
just like you and I.

shalom. don't misunderstand,
I'm speaking of your end.

gassho. do not be deluded
by differentiations.

oh my dumb brother,
there's no room for knives
between husbands and wives.

lay upon this world
with your emptiness.

rest against this world
with all your emptiness.

it's a funny land of girls,
it's a painting full of bombs.
it turns to dust, but your emptiness remains.

often in the daylight
i'll emerge.

dizzy with my guts
left out all night.

they were searching
for you when i was unawake,
haphazard in that old dark sea of things.

and though so many times
i've asked them not to.

i've requested no more
searching, no more pain.

the funny land returns
still always altered.
you are long gone, but your emptiness remains.

upon this
comes a poem.

where does it come from?
it is only of a river.

no one writes a river.

a fool mourns a whirlpool.

this beard, it has no man.
this beard, it has no man.
still it hangs from my chin like an old violin,
and it grows the best it can.

this wheel, it has no hub.
this wheel, it has no hub.
still it turns every way all night and day,
both below and up above.

don't need no robe or bell.
don't need no robe or bell.
not one divide in the world so wide,
no heaven and no hell.

lord, i have messed
around. lord, i have,
messing around. you are messing
me up.

ayawaska. ayawaska.

you've been out messing
around. i've been here
glaring at myself. we here
messed me up, big time.

ayawaska. ayawaska.

pain is revealed, pain is revealed,
i show my face, ayahuasca.

let lung sting,
let lung scab.

"It seems that in the Tibetan culture people do not find death a particularly irritating or difficult situation, but here in the west we often find it extremely difficult to relate to it. Nobody tells us the final truth. It is such a terrible rejection, a fundamental rejection of love, that nobody is really willing to help a dying person's state of mind.

It seems necessary, unless the dying person is in a coma or cannot communicate, that he should be told he is dying. It may be difficult to actually take such a step, but if one is a friend or a husband or wife, then this is the greatest opportunity of really communicating trust. It is a delightful situation, that at last somebody really cares about you, somebody is not playing a game of hypocrisy, is not going to tell you a lie in order to please you, which is what has been happening throughout your whole life. This comes down to the ultimate truth, it is fundamental trust, which is extremely beautiful. We should really try to generate that principle.

Actually relating with the dying person is very important, telling him that death is not a myth at that point, but that it is actually happening. "It is actually happening, but we are your friends, therefore we are watching your death. We know that you are dying and you know that you are dying, we are really meeting together at this point." That is the finest and best demonstration of friendship and communication, it presents tremendously rich inspiration to the dying person.

You should be able to relate with his bodily situation, and detect the subtle deterioration in his physical senses, sense of communication, sense of hearing, facial expression and so on. But there are people with tremendously powerful will who can always put on a smile up to the last minute of death, trying to fight off their old age, trying to fight the deteroiration of their senses, so one should be aware of that situation also.

...

The whole point is that when you instruct a dying person you are really talking to yourself. Your stability is part of the dying person, so if you are stable then automatically the person in the bardo state will be attracted to that. In other words, present a very sane and solid situation to the person who is going to die. Just relate with him, just open to each other simultaneously, and develop the meeting of the two minds."

--Chogyam Trungpa, Rinpoche (from Commentary on the Bardo Thotrol, The Great Liberation Through Hearing in the Bardo)

walking around, my face
disintegrates with hoarse
croaks and mistakes.

i awoke caked in damp sand,
water brown and gurgle sound
in my left ear. what is this?

the ground hot and soft, crawled
up from shore towards a hole in
the beige stone wall, escaping
that sun.

inside, a man sat still
facing the wall. what is
this? i found myself cold
and left.

the sky began to move and darken,
wind soon blew the drying grains
from my naked body. i shivered.
what is this? i returned to
the small cave and became
angry.

i rocked back and forth on
the ground and the man continued
to sit and watch the wall.

"what is this?"
"this is you and there is no escape."

i went back out in the wind
and blew around.

i have a friend
who i see from time to time.

he knows where i goes
and where i goes he knows
what i find.

he says, "who
is dragging this corpse behind,
you?"

i know a girl
she knows a lot about the world.

she knows where i goes
and where i goes she knows
what i find.

she says, "who
is dragging this corpse behind,
you?"

out my window, a gash
in the beast of
this world.

limbs struggle to close
the wound, bleeding
blue, loving you
and asking

for nothing.

a sad old naked
bear, this world, alone
but full of fools dancing in
her sores, her streets, her sting.

she shivers.