Sin

Sin

Lead us not into temptation
And deliver us from evil.
Amen.

We blame a class, a race or other group—
There are professions that are often blamed.
But it’s the nature of the human beast
That’s still the culprit for the mischief done.

For every virtue, every angel-trait,
We’ll find a vice, a sort of devil’s taint,
That mars the soul within a human or
Perhaps within all beings sentient.
 
If we had only virtues, then perhaps
We might be far too boring.  Light and shade
And vice and virtue, good and evil are,
Like yin and yang, in constant interplay.

So some might say that vice gives virtue place,
As hunger gives to plainest food its taste.
Without the sins that sinners multiply,
Could even saints be duly recognized?
 
And what, to me, is virtue could be seen
As vice to one whose values are reversed.
And yet, there still are basics that appear
To be the common ground on which we stand.

So save for prophetesses such as Ayn,
You’ll rarely find that people disagree
That selfish actions lead to evil ends,
While love and caring make for brighter lives.

For this, we might invoke a spirit that
Is root and essence of what’s seen as good,
And all that’s evil might be then ascribed
To visions clouded—or to a spirit dread.

But others might look back at what we were
When we were closer in our lives to apes
But rose and flourished from that sharing which
We still perceive as good—which touches hearts.

So "good", to them, is that which served us well
In eons past, when mind and body formed
To suit the circumstances then—for though
The times have changed, we still remain the same.

I will not enter into these debates.
I’ll only say that instincts old and deep
Respond to kindness—and that meanness brings
Yet other, meaner instincts into play.

To strive to be as supermen is fraught
With danger. We are always what we are.
We should be cognizant of what’s within
And seek a balance that sustains us all.

For when that balance is disturbed, we see
The sorrow that is not of earth or air
Or water, but is made by acts of men
And leads to yet more sorrows, turn on turn.

The earthquakes and the storms and floods may leave,
But fires rage and droughts and famines come.
Yet all of these, by men and all, are borne
With lesser pain than monstrous deeds of Man.

A fire may burn a forest down and yet
It leaves a part of it—and then with time
That forest lives again. What Man has touched
With devil's hands, no heaven can restore.

Be watchful then. Remove yourself from that
Which leads to conflicts with your inner god,
Who then is either silenced, leaving sin
To flourish, or cries out in pain within.

The ones, who cannot silence conscience, live
With ceaseless war within themselves, unless
They speak and act to change what often is
Impossible when others shrug and sin.
 
It wasn’t Adam or his partner, Eve,
Or a serpent leading both of them astray.
It’s we, who look to God to salve our sins,
Forgetting god and devil are within.

We lose our way and cannot find the path.
We lose our reason and we close our hearts.
It later seems that we were not awake
And so committed acts we shouldn't have.

The heart expands with kindness and with love,
Which spread like blessings when they’re acted on.
The heart contracts with meanness and with hate
And all our words and deeds of violence.

It’s difficult, within the fire, to be
As cool of temper as we’d like to be.
It’s hard, when we are stressed and desperate,
To be as kind and patient as we should.

So what are we to do?  Perhaps it’s best
To move away from all that meanness breeds—
To distance selves from where it’s fear and greed
That drive the engines of economies.

Although that’s easier said than done, to see
The source of evil, of disturbance, is
To step away from it, towards that calm
That gives us time and space to see and love.

We come like water and like wind we go.
So said Khayyam, Fitzgerald’s paraphrase
Purports.  If we should pray, perhaps we need
To ask for courage and for innocence.

So let us then release the things, to which
We hold, that rob us of our clarity.
That freedom might be difficult to reach,
Until we see we’re sullied by our vice.

There’s anger, greed and hate and jealousy.
And each of these, and even pride, has place
Within the workings of the mind that lives,
But each of these can lead us into sin.

For sin is not the thought that comes and goes
Or even stays awhile.  For thoughts may rise
And feelings too.  It’s when they’re nurtured and
They’re acted on that sin is birthed and born.

So let us heed what Buddhas past have said
To free ourselves of what some others call
The burden that we carry of our sins.
Let’s set it down and go upon our way.

We recognize a thought, a feeling and
We see, perhaps, its provenance as well.
We watch its rise and then we watch its ebb.
We do not ask that it should go or dwell.

We do not fear the feeling that we have,
And even fear, we know, has time and place.
We come like water, and we go like wind.
Forgive us, for we know that we have sinned.

And knowing this, we then might lose, perhaps,
Our hubris and might also find the strength
To heal from wounds that others might inflict,
Forgiving them, in our humility.

Lead us not into temptation
And deliver us from evil.
Amen.

2015 September 3rd, Thu., 2:30 am
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York
  

A Gray Christmas

 
A Gray Christmas
 
Gray is the ocean, as Christmas arrives,
Gray as the clouds up above.
Bleak is the season.  It's windy and cold.
The trees by the roadside are bare.
 
But as evening approaches, the lights will come on – 
The lights that were made in the east. *
And carolers then might gather in halls
To sing of the child that was born.
 
The season is winter in parts to the north.
The hour of the solstice has passed.
The nights have been long and the days have been short –
But now they will lengthen, at last.
 
The year that has passed has been brutal and sad.
The woes and the deaths are in minds.
The year that's to come will be brighter, we hope,
So that more of the children can smile...

Gray is the ocean, as Christmas arrives,
Gray as the clouds in the sky.
Bleak is the winter.  And yet, in the gloom,
The hope for the light will not die.
 
2014 December 25th, Thu.
Brooklyn, New York
---------------------------------

* The second line in the second stanza originally read:
"The lights that in China were made."
I changed it to what it now is now, on 2016-12-29.
-- Arjun
  

Reflections on Dukkha

   
Reflections on Dukkha
 

Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. with Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese monk, 1960's
image source: http://easyyolk.blogspot.com/2011/07/living-buddha-living-christ.html

 
We see, around us, things that make us sad
and angry, while there’s little we can do –
injustice, needless pain and suffering –
and we ourselves may be affected too.

And seeing this, some sink in dark despair,
or simply shrug and go about their life.
There’s only so much we can fix, repair –
or vainly seek to stem the tides of strife.
 
And some of us might see and yet not see –
or turn away from what discomforts them.
And others might find refuge in their gods –
or take recourse to lie or stratagem.

Philosophies exist, in ancient lands,
and even newer ones, that seem to help.
“It’s fortune, karma.” or “That’s how it is.”
Acceptance helps the sad, beleaguered self.

And some would say, "There's night that follows day.
There's hunger and there's satisfaction, and
without the first, would food retain its taste?"
We suffer – and we start to understand...

And others yet may speak or write – and some
may even act – in ways they think are best
or can imagine and achieve – and then
may fail or may succeed upon their quest.

And some see villains, whom they seek to crush,
and others relish being rescuers.
But few are they, who try to understand
the causes and connections, seeking cures.
 
For much of what we see, the sorrow spread
by actions, words and thoughts compulsive, are
pathologies that stem from ignorance –
or vision clouded by the smoke of war.

Gotama woke from this, our lifelong sleep,
and saw our sorrow and the root of it.
And so he bid us to awake and watch
the fog arise and leave – dissolving it.

But who can do it?  We are trapped by self
and all that’s built around to cage us in.
So passions rule, or calculations cold,
and newest sin is heaped on older sin.
 
But if we are aware, that all is not
as we imagine it – and that there’s light
within the deepest darkness, then we’ll pause –
and in that pausing, find the gift of sight.

“The other cheek” is what the gospel says
we should be turning to the ones who strike.
Yet who can do this, who is not a saint,
when death and utter devastation strike?

Of all that is compulsive, be aware.
Amidst the madness and the rushing, pause.
Release the breath and feel again the heart.
Let kindness be, without a need for cause.
   
2014 August 26th, Tue & 27th, Wed.
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York