I have thrown my self back into the creation/evolution debate recently, and I'm asking myself "why?" Not because I don't care about the issue, or think it's important. Rather, because I seem to care too much. I had nearly forgotten the intensity of emotion that this can bring up in me - anxiety, fear, anger.

What's particularly interesting to me is that this emotion can't be coming from a need to defend a metaphysical worldview. I felt the same when I was a Christian and talked to extreme creationists (ie. young earthers). I can recall being nearly in shouting matches with some, virtually blinded by emotion (as were they, in my judgment), even though we shared a basic metaphysic.

So, that depth of emotion can't come from my metaphysical commitments. But, I sense that it does come from my commitment to what some would call a worldview - that of scientific rationality. Despite a radical change in my metaphysical views, that basic commitment to the methods and results of science has been a foundational part of my way of seeing the world. Science is simply the best, most universal way we have of determining truth about the natural world, and I feel sad, angry and fearful when I encounter people who do not take that seriously, who are so dominated by their metaphysics that they cannot accept the best knowledge of reality that we have.

I'm hoping that greater awareness of these emotions will help me to be with the emotions while not letting them take over conversations. I hope to be able to positively express those feelings when necessary and appropriate. I sense that it may help diffuse some of the negative tension when talking with the other side, to allow them to see that this has just as powerful an effect on my emotions as it no doubt has on theirs.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I Found Life  (11/7/09)


I found life
    Not in the highs
        on mountains,
        at the peaks
        of joy or ecstasy
    Nor in the lows
        of despair
        or loss
        or stark reality

I found life
    In the middle.
    In laundry
        and dishes
    In leaves to be raked
        and lawn mowed
    In wrenching pipes
        gluing toys
    In work,
        and patience
        and drudgery
        and boredom

I found life
    In the spaces.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Into the Bluestem  (11/7/09)


I let my fear
of ticks and snakes
flow down and out
through the soles of my feet
and I plunge
head first

into the prairie
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
wind stories  (11/7/09)


the wind tells stories
in the switch grass

taller than I am,
an endless sea
to the horizon

where tan-brown-red
meets milky-blue
that blends in subtle gradient
to vibrant hue

and holds the moon in place -
its grey-white face resting
on seed-head tops

 
 
 
 
 
 

Walking the Shunga  (11/7/09)

Walking the Shunga
    with eyes half closed, I am
    the life all around me.

I am the cardinal, calling
    from the top of a leafless tree.

I am the cat, prowling
    remembering a wild past
    for a time
    before returning to hearth and lap.

I am the grass, swaying
    with passing breezes
    and wind from the cardinal's passing.
    Nearing time for sleep now,
    to rest through winter in umber silence
    and rise again renewed next spring.

I am the cottonwood,
    and maple
    and oak
    and sycamore -
    long grown and ready to fall,
    and newly sprouted, fighting
    for light and space.

I am the red-berried bush
    ubiquitous,
    from woodland to backyard
    persistent and silent connector,
    this land all is mine.

I am the muffled roar,
    of traffic on 29th
    and Gage
    and Fairlawn.
    Not life in my own right,
    but a sign - of unceasing vitality,
    of the most ambitious and insatiable
    creatures to visit this watercourse.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Life crops up (9/19/09)

Life crops up everywhere
Pokes through, bidden or not,
Uncalled for

Mow the prairie and roll it up
Pave it over
Build on top

Still, it returns
In fields left fallow
From cracks in pavement

Between bricks and stones,
It thrives, entwines
And persists

A letter in the Fall 2009 issue of UUWorld caught my attention.  One can find it here: www.uuworld.org/issues/145376.shtml, and I'll recopy it here:

As a UU working in the field of biology, I am frequently distressed by the one-sided views of nature often espoused by those in our faith who conceive of god as “creativity in the natural universe” (as described by William Murry in his article “Natural Faith,” Spring 2009). I rarely hear these folk speak about the full, stark range of natural phenomena—about the old moose hunted to stumbling exhaustion by a wolf pack, about the wasp that paralyzes a caterpillar and then lays eggs within it that will eat it alive, about the Boxing Day tsunami and its wake of shattered trees and bloated corpses. Nature is indivisible; I feel one cannot with integrity deify its “creative” aspects while ignoring or deploring the rest of it. For this reason, I cannot be a pantheist or a “natural theist.” I respect and marvel at the natural world, but I will not worship it—instead, I choose to join with other caring beings to cherish nature’s beauty while working to mitigate its casual cruelty. For me, god is in this choice.

The writer makes an important point about a side of nature that we tend to gloss over at times.  However, I consider myself a pantheist not because I see nature as being wholly "good," not because I ignore the harshness, cruelty and brutality and see only the creative wonder - I am a pantheist because the universe is the closest thing to "God" that I believe actually exists.  The universe is the ultimate "is" - it is the most fundamental existence and the beginning and ending of reality.  The universe is my creator, and it is the creator of devastating floods and parasitic wasps.  It is not a person, it has no purpose, no goal, no feelings, no morals.  It simply is, and it is what it is.  I "worship," then (in the sense defined in an earlier post: prof-brian.livejournal.com/6806.html), not something which is simply beautiful and creative, but that which is the most fundamental reality, and which alone is the ultimate creator and destroyer of us and everything that has ever existed or will exist. 

 
 
 
 
 
 
Wonder (9/12/09)

I have learned the wonder
    of diversity.
Once, I feared
    the different, unusual, or strange.
But you taught me,
    guided, coerced, surprised
with foods, and places, and things
    I'd never known, never imagined.

Once, I saw beauty
    only in the known, in the majestic and sweeping.
Now, I see with awe
    the strangest creature, the simplest blade of grass.
Wonder is in the eye
    of the aware,
And that sight demands
    one risk, and reach, and dare.

 
 
 
 
 
 
Building My Own Theology

The concept of "personal theology" has been a tradition in Unitarian Universalism for quite some time.  When we first began attending UUFT just over a year ago, I had just recently completed a long process of moving away from the faith I had grown up with (see previous post here).  As a Christian, I certainly had a well developed theology - one that was of course largely handed down from others, but also my own to a large extent since I was always one who wanted to understand what it was I believed.

After moving out of my Christian faith, I felt that I knew what I did not believe, and why, but I did not have a good sense of what I did believe.  I had begun to form some vague ideas, but I had not put much thought into it and I certainly did not have any sort of coherent "theology."  Of course, one might think that not having a belief in a personal God would preclude having a theology anyway, but the term can be understood in a broader sense.  One might say that whatever one thinks about ultimate questions (the existence and/or properties of God, what one's purpose is, what happens after death, etc.) could be considered a "theology," though many people might prefer to call that one's "worldview."

Anyway, when the BYOT class was announced in fall 2008 I knew I definitely wanted to participate.  I hoped that I would find a structure in which to think about my ideas, share them with others and incorporate them into a more clear picture.  What follows here is certainly no attempt at some sort of "systematic" theology.  It is simply a recounting of some of the ideas I formed while participating in the BYOT class.

The process of the class helped me to think through several different areas.  I especially began thinking about what "spirituality" and "spiritual growth" now meant to me.  This required some redefinition of terms, since the definitions I had grown up with in a traditional Christian faith no longer fit my views.  Having adopted metaphysical naturalism, rejecting the notion of the existence of anything supernatural, the word "spiritual" became problematic.  Through readings and discussions I was able to develop my own understanding of what spirituality means to me - in particular, that my spirituality is one of awareness of myself and the world around me, and of awe and reverence for the natural world of which we are all a part.  This is a spirituality which is fully natural, but which still has a certain sense of the mystical and the transcendent.

Since having finished the class, I have continued to think about redefining terms that no longer hold the meaning they once did - "worship" is one such word.  Previously, this meant worshiping God, which meant giving reverence, praise, submission, etc., but, of course, I have rejected the idea of a personal God to whom one may direct praise and submission.  My sense of worship now is in experiencing awe and reverence for the natural world, for the infinite, intricate, interconnected wholeness of the universe.  If I set out to worship, then I am choosing to cultivate and focus on that awe and reverence; it is a planned experience, or an active, mindful experiencing of awe, wonder, and reverence.  This, of course, flows smoothly into my spiritual practice of awareness.

Another part of the class prompted us to think about human nature, and I settled on a notion of "original selfishness" - an understanding that our nature is to primarily be concerned with our own needs first, but with a great capacity for choosing to do what is best for others in spite of that natural tendency.

I was exposed to a variety of views regarding meaning, purpose, and ethics.  In parallel to the class I was also listening to a series of lectures on Existentialist philosophy which resonated particularly strongly for me.  I came to believe that while there is no external or inherent meaning in the purely physical universe that we inhabit, we make our own meaning and purpose.  Further, ethical behavior lies in making conscious choices from a foundation of respect for all beings, especially our fellow humans.

One of the exercises suggested for us was to picture our beliefs as a house.  Every group member came up with a different description of their "spiritual dwelling."  This was mine...

I picture a simple, square-frame building, with rough-hewn beams at four corners, a simple wooden floor and a round roof, peaked in the middle, thatched with bamboo.  Each wall is a simple wooden frame, covered in paper - movable to allow light and breezes to enter from any direction.  Inside is a single bamboo mat and a low wooden table - an altar bearing stones, leaves, fossils, a candle and a small bowl of water.

The roundness of the house reminds me of the connectedness of all - no starting or ending point, no first or last.  The natural materials of the house and on the altar represent my affinity for and reverence toward the natural elements, as does the openness to light and air.  The simplicity of the house reflects my desire for a simplicity of belief; no thousand-page systematic theology for me, just a simple, uncluttered worldview which is flexible enough to bend with the winds of new experiences, but sturdy enough to support me in difficult times - just enough and no more.

As a reflection of this simplicity, I like to summarize my theology (as it stands today) in a few short lines:
My metaphysic is naturalistic pantheist.
My religious community and religious principles are the UUFT and the seven UU principles.
My spiritual practice is awareness - internally of myself, and externally of the world around me.
My purpose is to know and understand as much as I am able, and to help others to do the same.


I am very glad to have been able to participate in the BYOT class.  Most of all, it gave me a chance to hear a variety of different perspectives on a number of topics that are important in shaping one's belief system, and it gave me the structure and motivation to think about and clarify my own particular beliefs in the light of those perspectives and my own experiences. 

Overall, I came to see theology as an on-going process of clarification and redefinition according to the lessons and experiences one has along the way of life.  Rather than a set of volumes of dogma or doctrine, I see theology now as a living, dynamic process that requires input from as many sources as we can access in order to arrive at our best understanding of our own meaning, purpose, and place in the world.

This is something I've been meaning to write up for sometime now...


Dear friends,

For some of you, it may come as a surprise to learn that I no longer consider myself a Christian.  If you knew me in high school or college or graduate school, you knew me as an active, thoughtful, evolving but reasonably orthodox, believer.  Over the past several years, however, I have moved steadily away from the faith that I grew up with, made my own in college and sought to understand better and more completely since then.  The purpose of this letter, then, is to describe a bit of that journey and explain where I am now.  I do not believe that any person's spiritual position should be a fixed one, and so what I will describe is an ever-evolving set of views and thoughts;  it is not a final version, nor will there ever be such a thing.  This note is also not intended as an apologetic for my current views, nor a set of theological arguments.  It is simply meant as a way to communicate who I am today to people with whom I may not have had this sort of conversation already.  I am happy to entertain questions and comments, though I have no interest in engaging in debates or arguments over anything said here.

First, some history.  I grew up in a fairly conservative United Methodist church.  The teaching was orthodox, but I don't recall hearing too often that we had to "save the lost" or that if we believed evolution we were going to hell.  So, conservative, but not what I would call "fundamentalist."  Because the church was small it did not have much of a youth group and so I became involved with a group from a nearby Evangelical Free church.  Their beliefs were similar, but they were definitely more fundamentalist and the youth pastor was very energetic about making sure that everyone in the group was "saved," knew the fundamentals of (this particular version of) Christianity and was reaching out to others.  On balance this was more positive for me than negative, as it helped me learn to be clear about what my beliefs were and where they came from.  In this case, of course, those beliefs started with the authority (and general inerrancy) of the Bible.  Every belief had to be supported with verses, etc. 

When I got to college, then, I had a fairly well defined and established belief system, but one which had never really faced any sort of challenge.  My first semester of college presented plenty of challenges!  I look back fondly, and gratefully, on those times now, but it was scary and a bit overwhelming at the time.  The philosophy and science courses I was taking presented the classic intellectual challenges to many of the beliefs I held, though we also read many of the classic defenses as well.  On another level, I had come to college to major in engineering, but my first intro course in the subject had me questioning that and leaning more toward pure physics.  This was somewhat tough, since I tend to make a plan and stick to it, but with the help of a career counselor I decided that majoring in physics, with the goals of a PhD and a faculty position doing mostly teaching work was what I wanted (and also what I have ended up doing!). 

While I felt strongly that this was a good choice (and it has been, though rough at times!), I did feel a bit worried that this would mean confronting the apparent contradiction between much of modern science and Christianity.  I felt like choosing this path was stepping out a bit into dangerous territory.  I soon discovered threads of Christian thought that did not see a conflict here.  Reading books that meshed the two, or at least showed that one could accept both lines of thought eased my fears significantly and ever since then I have worked on ways to permit the cooperation or at least tolerance between science and religion.  This is still an important issue for me today.

So, having overcome this challenge, and having worked through or decided I could live with most of the philosophical challenges, I began to explore the variety of Christian experience.  The major student group on campus was Assembly of God affiliated and rather charismatic.  I became involved there but also experienced Catholic, Orthodox, liberal mainline and other traditions. 

Moving into graduate school, as my horizons expanded, my beliefs adjusted.  I had long since moved beyond a literalist view of the Bible, with 6-day creation, etc., and now viewed much of the Bible not as literal, but as poetic - of value and containing truth, but of a deeper sort than just details of history.  Of course, I still held to the "fundamentals" of an orthodox faith for the most part.  But as I learned more, considered more, read more, thought more, my views on literalism and inerrancy loosened more and more.

While today I could name a long list of intellectual problems I see with the Bible and Christianity, it was not primarily intellectual (or scientific) issues that ultimately moved me out of the faith.  It was primarily morality, or perhaps more correctly, ethics.

I had been working for some time to try to understand the issue of salvation.  Eternal existence in an afterlife had never really made much sense to me, though I accepted it as part of my belief set.  I felt that working toward a goal which one could never really imagine, let alone understand, was hardly a good motivation for giving one's life to this faith.  In addition, it seemed like such a negative motivator - "be good or you're going to hell!"  So, I sought a "here and now" sense of salvation, which seemed to me to be provided by the idea of "sanctification" - being made better by God in this life, rather than simply waiting for the next.  This was very important to me, as I came to believe more and more that one's beliefs could hardly matter more than the ethical behavior that flowed out from those beliefs.  Holding a set of beliefs in this life in order to go to heaven, but behaving however one likes seemed so horribly out of sync.

Seeing Christianity in this light led me to look for evidence that indeed this sort of salvation was real.  I decided that while I might still give lip service to "going to heaven" as salvation, I couldn't be sure that was real unless there was observable sanctification-salvation in this world.  Two lines of evidence eventually convinced me that sanctification (as a supernatural work of God) was not real: 1) the actions of the church at large (the majority of Christians) and 2) my own life. 

My experience in churches, in watching the news, and in reading sociological studies of the attitudes and actions of Christians of many stripes convinced me that taken as a whole, most Christians were no better, indeed not really significantly different, than general society.  They are just as racist, just as violent, and even more hypocritical.  I saw the church I attended becoming more and more like a commercial corporation.  I experienced widespread anti-intellectual and anti-science attitudes.  I saw internal fighting and external hatred.  I knew, and still know, a handful of Christians whom I regard very highly and respect deeply - Christians who truly do well in living up to the standard set by Jesus to love others more than ourselves, to be selfless, loving and forgiving to all.  The statistical evidence, however, simply did not seem to point to a God who transformed people through "the power of the gospel."

Further, my own life represented a terrible failure of sanctification, or so it seems to me.  Much of college and especially graduate school were very stressful times - straining my very sense of self and my confidence in my abilities and goals at every turn.  For whatever reason, I had never really learned to deal effectively with my emotions, and as I found life getting harder to deal with I was like a balloon squeezed in a fist - the air has to go somewhere, and my emotions came out in anger and destructive behavior;  usually well hidden from others, but harmful still.  I got married just before the end of college, moved half-way across the country and started graduate school.  The first year was rough, though we worked though it, but as grad school piled on the stress, and kids were born adding more stress, I got worse and worse.

Through all of this I was seeking sanctification from God.  I believed that I had a responsibility for my actions, but really the message that I heard from Christianity was that God was the only one who could make me better.  And so I pleaded, and begged and vowed to improve, and tried to try and tried not to try and to "let God" and through it all I grew worse and worse and worse.  I slowly became more and more jaded with the idea of sanctification, of a God doing anything within me, of existing as a personal entity at all, and I gave up the idea entirely, basically cutting loose all beliefs.  A crisis eventually precipitated my getting counseling which almost immediately gave me the tools I had needed all along to deal with the stress and emotional difficulties.  Since then, with a lot of support from my wife, I have been a very different person.  I am not perfect, or even "fixed" and I have weaknesses, difficulties and flaws that I will work on for the rest of my life.  But, critically, I no longer look to an external agent to "fix" me - I know that I alone am responsible for myself, with the help of those around me here and now.

So, it was secular, human knowledge and help that "saved" me -- and now I see no need for, and no evidence of, a personal God working in my life, or indeed in most others, though I certainly know of those who would disagree with me.  I came through the intellectual challenges to the faith I had grown up with; the emotional, non-rational challenges that faith simply couldn't deal with.

And where am I now?  My worldview, or metaphysic, is that of pantheism.  My church is Unitarian Universalist.  My spiritual practice is present-centered awareness - of myself and the world around me.  My purpose in life is to learn as much as I can about as much as I can, and in turn to help others to learn as much as they can.

A word or two on pantheism as my worldview.  By this I mean that if there is a concept that I think of as “God” then it is the deep, underlying substance and structure of the universe, which is incredibly vibrant and creative.  I do not think of this “God” as a personal being at all, but as the creative power of the universe and life itself.  This is not a supernatural entity, not a thinking, purposive person, but it is nevertheless the object of my deepest personal reverence. 

To me, nature is sacred.  That word “sacred” does not mean “supernatural,” for I now consider myself a metaphysical naturalist – I do not believe that there is anything beyond or outside of the universe – but it means that I see nature as something that has profound and ultimate value and for which I have a deeply emotional sense of awe and reverence.  Further, by “nature” I do not mean “those woods outside of town” or “that mountain range in Colorado” – I mean nature in its fullness, from the stars of the most distant galaxy to the quarks that make up the fundamental structure of the keys which I use to type this note.

As a Christian, I saw meaning and purpose as imposed from outside, communicated through scripture or personal revelation – a “top down” sort of structure defining who we are and how we should live, handed down from on high and not open to discussion.  Having rejected the notion of a personal God I did not throw out meaning and purpose in life.  Instead, I now see life as having a “bottom up” sort of structure – purpose and meaning come from within each of us.  We must choose what we will value and how we will live; we are the meaning-makers.

I rejected the idea of a personal God and the top-down structure that I grew up with, but I did not reject religion because I see religion as providing a structure within which we can make sense of our experiences, putting them in the context of the wider human experience, and from this make sense of the world and define purpose for our lives.  The religious community that I have chosen to be a part of is Unitarian Universalism, a faith with a long tradition of thoughtful exploration of truth wherever it may be found. 

I hope that this letter has clearly explained my story and where I have come to now.  Nothing in the above is intended as criticism of any of the persons that have walked along side me at times in my life.  I would hope that while I now hold very different beliefs than many of the people I have known over the years, that this difference would be enriching rather than divisive. 

With love,
Brian

 
 
 
 
 
 
Sum-Over-Histories (6/20/09)

I want to live
A sum-over-histories life.
I wonder if Dick ever thought of that -
He did a lot, more than most,
But we all make choices that exclude
Other possibilities.

I chose this life,
And there's no way to know
If some other choices might have led
To more or better things.

So I wish I could be an electron
Traversing those infinite possible paths,
Only appearing to choose
A single one from here to there.

For us, life's so linear and finite
It doesn't seem quite fair to be
So restricted to this line or that, no leeway
To try some excluded possibility.

But that's the joke, I suppose,
Of this classical-quantum world
We inhabit.
To be made of such free things
And end up so determined.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Fit (6/3/09)

It seems so asymmetric,
    you and I
Your devotion,
    and my distraction.
It shouldn't be this way -
    seems likely I'm just pathological,
Or at least that's what I tell myself
    and others.

We were supposed to fit,
    weren't we?
Like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle
    that you're just certain go together.
So you turn them, force them,
    press them together
With the certainty that they simply must
    fit perfectly.

But they don't,
    and you just end up with bent corners
And a flawed pattern,
    which is only obvious later
When the other pieces are in place,
    and the picture is wrong.

We're supposed to fit,
    aren't we?
It's not like we rushed in,
    like some do,
All head-over-heels, no thought
    for the practical or mundane.

Of course, perhaps we do fit
    as well as can be expected.
After all, it's clear there's no design,
    and wonderful as the world is
There's plenty that doesn't
    quite fit.
So, we make do anyway
    bent corners and all.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Contentment (5/9/09)

I tried on contentment
    Slipped it on and strolled around in it,
    gazing at myself from all angles.
It fit nicely, was soft and comfortable,
    but the sleeves weren't quite right,
    too short.
    Not visibly, but perceptible by feel,
    and nagging.

Ambition, I found, was snug
    Not so comfortable,
    not soft, really.
But it drives me
    Like some sort of mechanical second skin
    that fits exactly, but is never still,
    not quite,
    and always wants to move
    from here to there, the next, the new,
    no place in particular, just somewhere else.
It tends to tire,
    so I slip it off at times,
    fed up with motion,
    and shrug back on contentment,
    for a time at least.

But I find that skin is haunting
    and hard to ignore.
    Insistent and persuasive,
    wriggling its way onto me unasked for,
    but not unwelcome, not quite.

Contentment is comfortable,
    but ambition fits me better.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Designed (4/12/09)

Yes, I admit it,
    the world does look designed.
Fine-tuned,
    to our exacting specifications.
But it seems we lack one crucial thing -
    there's no one there.

At least,
    I don't see anyone.
I hear no voice, feel no presence,
    beyond my own, and those I know from long experience,
Those I touch on a daily basis, half from fear
    I'll find they've drifted off to nothingness as well.

Yes, I see the symmetry,
    the balance, the fit.
Of course I know,
    it is amazing.
Miraculous even, that I sit here breathing,
    long odds against it.

But where is that presence?  Where is the hand
    of guidance, or reproach?
Perhaps it was us,
    did we offend?
Broke down that structure to find the template, only to drive off
    the one who erected it?

Some will say it's stubbornness, but no,
    it's more fatigue.
I've looked too long,
    found no one there.
Designed, perhaps, but short
    one designer.

 
 

 
 
 
 
 Certainty  (1/15/07)

"Embrace," he cried, "the refuge of certainty!"

"Enfold yourself,
In unshakable resolve.
Reject the slope, the slippery incline
Of caution, of humility,
Of confidence levels and caveats."

"Take up your blinders,
Your reality-makers, clarity-inventors,
        doubt-deniers, viewpoint-limiters."

"Narrow!  Narrow your vision,
Allow not evidence, investigation, reason, logic,
To dull your vigor, dim your sight
Of unquestionable fact handed down
From the unknowable Other."

 
 
 
 
 
 
 Leaf (10/13/08)

I move as I will.
Blown by the wind,
    but not aimlessly.
As a leaf drifting,
    aiming always for the ground
but flitting, rising, falling,
    lifted on currents
which vanish in a moment,
    giving way to gravity
drawing down,
but circuitously.

The following poem of mine will be published in the 2009 inscape literary magazine published by Washburn University.  I'll also be participating in the public reading event:

inscape 2009 public reading and celebration

Tuesday, April 14, 7 p.m., Bradbury Thompson Alumni Center, Washburn University, Topeka, Kansas

Existence   (10/17/06)

I realize tonight the treasure of my existence.
But, to whom do I owe my gratitude?

To the Universe, born from nothing,
    flung outward, in ever widening complexity.

To the Galaxy, island world
    of swirling stars and nebulae.

To a cloud, its subtle weight,
    its condensations and random eddies.

To the stars, great furnaces,
    refining protons,
    forging my atoms in slow stellar cores.

To searing death-shrieks of dying stars,
    sowing all those bits of me
    in well-tilled clouds,
    hungry for mass and impetus
    to form
    and birth my world.

To ancestors, whose traits survived,
    my atoms recycled through countless others.

Till here,
    I am in this brief time
    A tenant of these elements.

 
 
 
 
 
 
One (2/1/09)

I am of the universe
Completely unique, and utterly common.
Elements,
Stitched together by chemical magic -
    a DNA dance,
    on a stage of lipids and proteins.
Dust of the Earth I am indeed,
    consumed through plants, incorporated,
    corporeal.
Transient - is a single atom of me the same
    as it was when I was born?
    A constant flow of matter through me,
    held here a time, processed and passed on,
Back into air and Earth.
All one flow, one entity, one universe.

 
 
 
 
 

 A haiku....
 
Bare Trees (1/26/09)

bare trees and gray sky
remind me that death is a
part of all that is

 
 
 
 
 

Stellar Cycle (6/4/06)

Collapse
Condense
Heat
Fuse
Shine
Blow cocoon away
Emerge bright and new
Fired by collision and conversion
Burn
Ages
Fuse
Contract
Expand
Expel garments of gas
Share wealth of nutrients
Inspire
Seed
Compel collapse.