breathe receive
wind loam
root sun
i am am not
i arise from many
tree grass moss
i arrive from afar
seed blossom thorn
i demise ever
termite aphid fungus
impartial embrace
manifold manifest
repose awake
i am am not
March 11, 2011
breathe receive
wind loam
root sun
i am am not
i arise from many
tree grass moss
i arrive from afar
seed blossom thorn
i demise ever
termite aphid fungus
impartial embrace
manifold manifest
repose awake
i am am not
March 9, 2011
breath upon breast
slow in sleep
drinking in dreaming
Sujata Sujata
giving mother
grace of gods
child of charity
life from love
Sujata Sujata
grateful recipient
bowl of buttermilk
gift of gruel
travelling to temple
Sujata Sujata
worshipful pilgrim
sees one sitting
humble and hungry
frail and fragile
Sujata Sujata
open hearted
bowl under banyan
meal to mendicant
feast at feet
Sujata Sujata
giving mother
March 3, 2011
When the Prince stepped into the stables the horses rocked in their pens and snorted.
A dappled one bucked and feinted and the frightened Prince backed against the far wall.
“Forgive them, Honorable Prince–” Said the stableboy Channa “horses know not of royalty.
They obey only quiet, trusted voices and their love of open spaces.”
“And the stableboy Chandra–does he recognize the crown?”
“Sir, I serve crown as my father before me. But I admit I have long studied the horse’s philosophy.”
The Prince expressed an interest to be taken outside the palace walls.
Though Chandra knew it was forbidden of the Prince–who was Chandra to deny others open spaces?
Chandra led the Prince in a chariot pulled by loving Kanthaka.
The horse and charioteer drank the sun and the wind as the Prince’s heart raced.
They passed an aged man along the road and the Prince asked of Chandra,
“This man’s great white beard and cane–is he an actor portraying a sage?”
Chandra may have lied and almost did but to lie would dishonor the man’s
great wisdom and years and replied, “Great Prince, he is old his body is ravaged by time.”
The Prince saw a sick woman laid on a mat and sores covered her body.
“Tell me Chandra, this woman who is spotted, is she fathered by a leopard?”
Chandra may have lied but to do so would deny the woman the great dignity she retained in illness.
“Dear sir, she is ill and her body is faltering.”
The Prince saw a dead body aside the road, the first he had ever seen.
“Tell me Chandra, why does this child sleep by the wayside?”
Chandra may have lied but to do so would steal from this child her tragedy, her promise, her very spirit.
“My friend–she is dead. Her life has ended.”
The two were carried to the open spaces above the city and Chandra watered and brushed Kanthaka there.
The Prince exited the chariot and for a great while listened to the quiet, trusted voice of the evening wind.
March 1, 2011
The trees gave shade
gave fruit gave rest
to the Queen and her attendants
Songs from the maidens
accompanied the wind
and the sound of the brook
The eldest had been present
at the birth of the Queen
wise was she with women
The time was full
the hour had come
one brought a stick to be bitten
The maids worked as one body
their bodies caring, tender, alert,
and alive they wove with her body’s becoming
The Queen looked upon them
through tears, she saw her maids as
sisters, as Brahma, as Indra
In the weary mother’s arms at last
the maids laid the child to rest
their bodies one and they one with them
Servants of life and motherhood
they gave honor to Vishnu
at the foot of an asoka tree
March 1, 2011
Queen Maya sat motionless on the wall
that overlooked the ravine
she watched birds return to their nests
Maya walked silently along
the walls of her maid’s chambers
she heard lullabyes quiet cries
With quiet grace she blessed
the children held before her
in the pressing crowds
Upon her bed in the dim
light of her oil lamp she
wept stinging tears
The Queen grew old
King Shuddhodana became infirm
anger, fear, loneliness, regret
rested in her and took root
One night as the moon was full
the King came to her and they mourned,
wept, laughed, celebrated
Again they had found love–
the love that first bound them
encircled them again
That night while Maya slept
a white elephant appeared
as a dream
Asleep in love
asleep and dreaming
asleep alive awakening
January 10, 2011
(silently punctuated only by bells
she moves on feet whose slippers I am not worthy to untie
her hands burnished flashing out of blossom sleeves
brazen calves daring in flight upon court steps
an oasis she withdraws when the fire of my thirst rests upon her)
you have filled my cup even as your myrrh daubed wrists
reach me upon the air through my grate
the stone gods are muted at the epiphany of you
their personages are silent upon the wall
but I am awash again in the dried laughter
of an old man–a man whose face had befriended patience
whose face is but a tarnished mirror of silver
hollowed by faith and postponement
we are not unalike you and I
(though I shiver with humility)
both made to serve powers beyond our ken
we both don clothes not of our own choosing
the prisons of silk and hairshirt
cut perhaps from the same cruel bolt
born to paths whose ends like wavering mirages
darkly visit me in dreams and leave me awakening bathed in doubt
you draw near your bells announce you
descending dark stairs you suffer me
like a deer pants for water I breathe in cascades
of a deeper sky, a larger world,
of oils, and the youth that swirls about you
your gentle dread allure haunts this gaol
of living ghosts our chains our only applause to offer
upon your tense ankles hover cast lots
upturned runes
your eyes hide sad divinations
drear wroth machinations
in your practiced balance my future wavers
but who has called the song
which dance has been ordered?
my love, my muse
unmarried go I, and chaste
my body undone, before you languorous
opened as a tapestry unraveling
for you my story streams in ragged threads
and ends in matchless bliss
from a grace in a glimpse as simple this:
your hair, the comb of a finer honey,
escaping the corners of your veil
With thanks to Oscar Wilde
January 9, 2011
I hope that other marriage rights advocates will join me in putting away charges of hate against those who would discriminate against us, our loved ones, our fellow Americans.
Recently, Matthew Franck of the William E and Carol G Simon Center on Religion and the Constitution at the Witherspoon Institute wrote an essay in the Washington Post asking that advocates of personal liberty not “play the hate card”. I promise that I will not ‘play the hate card’ and I also will ask that others will join me.
Why? Because my goal is the fair and equal treatment of LGBTQ folks and their families and I know the law is on our side. I know from history that with consistent hard work of justice minded people, the Constitution will protect individuals from the tyranny of the masses. We are not backing down and the wheels are set in motion–with our perseverance and courage and social justice co-laboring and allied work we will win what is rightly due.
So I will be as kind, compassionate, and understanding as I can be as we continue on our righteous path.
Just as we justice workers have learned the language difference between:
“You are a racist” versus “What you just said sounded racist”
we can learn to approach our those who would withhold liberty by not calling them hateful or bigots.
Franck in his essay says he and others feel tired of being compared to those who stood in the way of civil rights and supported anti-miscegenation laws. While we don’t need to compare Franck and detractors of liberty to those movements, we can most likely agree that Franck and many members of those past movements were honestly doing their best. They had good intentions, were motivated by perhaps their faith, their care for the nation, their care for society. That is a hard pill to swallow, but gay marriage advocates would do well to accept that for any given individual from the ‘traditional marriage’ movement, it may be love (albeit misguided and twisted) not hate that is motivating them.
This is to our favor to recognize. Who better to speak the language of love than those who wish to marry and their loving allies? We know what it is to love, so let us engage them at the level of love. Franck may be right on this point: call someone a ‘hater’ and the conversation is pretty much over. Begin to share to your experience of love and romance, and you may well have their attention.
A few words about ‘hate’:
So while I’m not going to level charges of hate against individuals, I think it is important to see why the use of ‘hate’ has been used to describe the anti-liberty movements.
1. Hate speech laws. Hate speech laws need not investigate the interior emotional state of a person or their disposition towards the aggrieved party. All that is needed is proof that there may incite prejudiced action or violence, or may be libelous towards a lawfully protected group. When an individual advocates the discrimination of a protected group, it can be valid to investigate whether their actions qualify as hate speech. It is always well for us LGBTQ folk and allies to remember to remind our detractors that we would do the same if someone sought to discriminate against them. We can remind them: “Its not personal. I’m just standing on the side of righteousness and justice. If you ever are denied justice, I’ll be in your corner too.”
2. ‘Hate’ has a variance of meaning. For example, Jesus said that to follow him, one had to hate their parents. That doesn’t mean one must scowl at their parents and begrudge them. Many preachers and commentaries have pointed out that Luke 14:26 says one must ‘hate their family’ as well as their ‘own life’ and simply means that one must ‘value with less esteem’ or with ‘lower priority’ these than the Divine. By Jesus use of hate, is it hateful what Franck and the Witherspoon Institute are doing? Well, being made into a second class citizen would seem a bit like being given ‘lower priority’. Discrimination and poor treatment need not have ‘gut feelings’ of anger, spite, vitriol. Again, we advocates for marriage equality would do well to remember we cannot see the inner state of another. We can take a page out of the Christian scriptures some like to use as a weapon: “judge not”.
I’m happy to put aside “hate” because US law and the common grounds of reason are on our side.
If ‘hate’ language like Mr. Franck says, stops a debate I won’t use it because I am assured that the grounds of reasoned debate will favor LBGTQ families.
Be very sure of this: just because I won’t use the “hate card” doesn’t mean I will stand by for a minute and allow any word or deed that may incite violence or disparage my loved ones. In the public arena through compassionate debate and vigorous social justice action and through applying all the laws that protect against discrimination, I will be steadfast against those who would molest liberty and my loved ones’ full enjoyment of life.
Our cause is assured and our goal is near. Just because some oppose me does not mean I need make of them my enemy. When this issue is settled I will extend to them the very Christian forgiveness and love that they seemed unwilling to share to us.
NPR’s coverage of Franck’s essay:
http://www.npr.org/2010/12/21/132235150/the-word-hate-ends-debate-on-gay-marriage
Matthew Franck’s essay in the Washington Post:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/12/17/AR2010121702528.html
December 29, 2010
Its not unlike me to stare Death in the face, but usually its
in the guise of a busted condom, not a rainstorm!!
I know that God has been angry with southern California for a while now, and I definitely know that I’ve personally been tempting His wrath, but I just can’t believe the incessant raining He’s pounded down at us.
Of course, I’m no stranger to danger. I’ve been fighting off Death since the day I was born.
My doctor says I’m a “Statistical Anomaly”.
The last time I was at the doctor’s, getting some regular maintenence done,
you know: lancing, lasering, shaving, and freezing things off
when Dr. Hendt says, “Ryan, you’ve got one foot in the grave.”
And I says:
“Yeah? That’s what they said about Frankenstein and Jesus too!”
“Ryan, listen to me…”
“No, YOU listen to ME! You can’t tame a lion.”
“Sure you can. Liontamers?….At the circus?”
“……Whattabout Biggie Smalls?”
“He’s dead. What about him.”
“Right…Which is the one that’s coming back from the dead? Left Eye?”
“Tupac.”
“Right! I’m like Tupac, Dr. Hendt.”
“He died from being shot a bunch of times. Not from having the heart and colon of a 70 year old.”
“Touche, Dr. Hendt. Touche.”
But in the end, whether by earthquake or by not…I’m not scared of dying.
I’m no stranger to death.
I’ve eroticly asphyxiated myself to death 14 times,
but the light at the end of the tunnel keeps sending me back.
No prison can hold me!
Heaven won’t take me!
Hell is full!
December 29, 2010

i apologize for putting these feelings, these experiences into words
this silly thing i call Tao has swept me up and my heart whispered childish poetry
whatever it is i am trying to say is not enough
if i were to write for the rest of my life
i could not summarize
it would fall short
i am but one voice, a single finger
pointing at Luna
Io, Triton, Proteus
your heart knows much
about Tao without any words
Tao is as natural to you as sneezing
you, the perfect expression of Tao,
are the living scripture, the embodied hymn singing
deep cries out to deep
December 29, 2010
a mother stoops to help her child loosen a knot in her sneaker
she uses a fork tine
this will take a while
she is in no rush
the child is watching and learning
not about knots but about choices of patience
love is sometimes illustrative of Tao
the more it is celebrated and chosen
the more it spills over
love is not exhausted
Tao can never cease
a child wipes the food from her aged mother’s chin