Sunday, November 13, 2005
I saw the car and its bright lights
coming down the other side, of Buchtel road.
Flinched a sec and hesitated
as I thought my fate would be sated, so the story goes.
Look around and still I’m here
between the force of every fear, the yellow lines.
I wonder why were scared of thoughts
that someday soon we’ll be gone, it fills our mind.
I read the words a wise man said
we won’t let go of what we never had…
It’s our life
It’s our life
coming down the other side, of Buchtel road.
Flinched a sec and hesitated
as I thought my fate would be sated, so the story goes.
Look around and still I’m here
between the force of every fear, the yellow lines.
I wonder why were scared of thoughts
that someday soon we’ll be gone, it fills our mind.
I read the words a wise man said
we won’t let go of what we never had…
It’s our life
It’s our life
So, yes I wrote this over ryme-ie piece after listening to my new Trial of the Dead CD. This music is so weird and dreamy and poppy and just damn righteous. I’m not sure what draws me into it???I just know I’m lost in its dream-like web from song to song. There was so much I wanted to accomplish today but of course I procrastinated and today I made a firm handshake of a deal with our best friend Sleep so my verbose endeavors will have to wait until Sunday. For many that is a day of rest (Saturday if your one of those 7 dayers) but for me it will be a day toiling in my aspirations of school work, house work and family time.
I would like to commit one of the biggest artist’s faux pas (before Mr. Sandman wraps me in his blanket of REM) and disclose what I meant by my lyrics above. I was driving west bound on Buchtel Blvd. and I saw a car coming toward me and I thought it was going to crash into me for a sec. Of course I realized my mishap in perceptual judgment was due to all the damn road work they are doing in my town and the car whizzed passed me in a non-threatening manner. I felt scared for my life my girlfriend’s life and I, in that instant, wondered why? I read a book where a man was upset with his three year old daughter for not wanting to share her new birthday toys with the kids at her party. He ended up realizing that she didn’t want to share them because she hadn’t felt what it was like to own them first. Did I fear for my life because I haven’t even lived my life yet? I’m not sure I even know how to take the reins of my life and just start living. I hope the only answer to “waking up” is not 30 years of Zen training. I guess if I want answers to such dilemmas all I have to do is blow the dust off of my Magic 8-Ball…but tonight “My sources say no.” It’s time for some Rapid Eye Movement.
I would like to commit one of the biggest artist’s faux pas (before Mr. Sandman wraps me in his blanket of REM) and disclose what I meant by my lyrics above. I was driving west bound on Buchtel Blvd. and I saw a car coming toward me and I thought it was going to crash into me for a sec. Of course I realized my mishap in perceptual judgment was due to all the damn road work they are doing in my town and the car whizzed passed me in a non-threatening manner. I felt scared for my life my girlfriend’s life and I, in that instant, wondered why? I read a book where a man was upset with his three year old daughter for not wanting to share her new birthday toys with the kids at her party. He ended up realizing that she didn’t want to share them because she hadn’t felt what it was like to own them first. Did I fear for my life because I haven’t even lived my life yet? I’m not sure I even know how to take the reins of my life and just start living. I hope the only answer to “waking up” is not 30 years of Zen training. I guess if I want answers to such dilemmas all I have to do is blow the dust off of my Magic 8-Ball…but tonight “My sources say no.” It’s time for some Rapid Eye Movement.
# posted by Nick D @ 12:31 AM 
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I enjoyed the zen comment. There's many a moment where I feel like my life is about to be snuffed instantly. These episodes usually occur on the road, my daily life as a computer geek offers little opportunity for swashbuckling or making great leaps. I imagine the accounting gig is similar in its banal nature.
When faced with these moments, I also dwell on those I love. I wonder how their life might be worse. I wonder if it might be better. I start wondering whether they'll get the epitaph right, contact my lost friends, or find my will among the 12 boxes of crap I've saved since I was a kid.
No amount of zen training can or should answer why. We are better to have these thoughts. We are better to imagine our own suffering. As the Dalai Lama says, it is through our own suffering that we first begin to imagine the suffering of others. This is a necessary step in order to develop compassion.
Genuine compassion might start as something so simple, a mere wish to avoid our own suffering. A lifetime of dwelling in this arena might be more noble and lead to a better world. But ain't nobody gonna tell me that I can't risk a little hearing loss at a Clutch show!
Nevertheless, when I was at the peak of what I call my first mid-life crisis, my spiritual senses were more attuned (or at least I spent more time playing with the tuning fork). I also wondered what would happen ten years later if I did activity A, B, and C.
In my view, the magic stuff sought by a zen master is here each moment. Lifetimes of activity A, B, and C may bring you somewhere greater. We may move faster than our evil twin who embarks on debaucherous rants every chance, at great risk to physical and spiritual health. But where are we going anyway? Does it matter whether it's faster or slower?
Ultimately, I think there's something in it akin to music. We follow our own beat. That beat is good. It is our own and it is good. It is a connection to all others. It creates harmony and that is good.
And hey, poop on anyone who says poetry has to rhyme. I hate forcing it to do so. Most of my stuff is just a stream of words and not altogether very entertaining. Rhythm doesn't come out in my words.
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When faced with these moments, I also dwell on those I love. I wonder how their life might be worse. I wonder if it might be better. I start wondering whether they'll get the epitaph right, contact my lost friends, or find my will among the 12 boxes of crap I've saved since I was a kid.
No amount of zen training can or should answer why. We are better to have these thoughts. We are better to imagine our own suffering. As the Dalai Lama says, it is through our own suffering that we first begin to imagine the suffering of others. This is a necessary step in order to develop compassion.
Genuine compassion might start as something so simple, a mere wish to avoid our own suffering. A lifetime of dwelling in this arena might be more noble and lead to a better world. But ain't nobody gonna tell me that I can't risk a little hearing loss at a Clutch show!
Nevertheless, when I was at the peak of what I call my first mid-life crisis, my spiritual senses were more attuned (or at least I spent more time playing with the tuning fork). I also wondered what would happen ten years later if I did activity A, B, and C.
In my view, the magic stuff sought by a zen master is here each moment. Lifetimes of activity A, B, and C may bring you somewhere greater. We may move faster than our evil twin who embarks on debaucherous rants every chance, at great risk to physical and spiritual health. But where are we going anyway? Does it matter whether it's faster or slower?
Ultimately, I think there's something in it akin to music. We follow our own beat. That beat is good. It is our own and it is good. It is a connection to all others. It creates harmony and that is good.
And hey, poop on anyone who says poetry has to rhyme. I hate forcing it to do so. Most of my stuff is just a stream of words and not altogether very entertaining. Rhythm doesn't come out in my words.
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