Poem - Box

Sep. 18th, 2015 07:25 pm
kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
A new online acquaintance asked if I could write a poem about tolerance. Their observation was “everyone seems to want everyone to fit in only one and only one box, without difference… One should not be gay or one should not be religious, if only all the world could accept the other one as he is, without judgment, without trying to modify his inner personality.” Good stuff! The resulting poem “Box” illustrates why people attempt to put others into only one box. The outward face of this seems to be about tolerance and understanding. Reality defies this, with the box being a very ugly solution to the messiness of diversity’s beauty.


Box
Poem for Day 260 – 20150918

We’ll pick the biggest box,
the one that fits all of us.
We’ll meet the goal of tolerance
by blanching out diversity.
Don’t ask, don’t tell, don’t rock the boat.
Peace will be kept when differences
are buried where none can see
the breadth of who we’re meant to be.

Wear this mask to calm my nerves,
it is really better for the all of us.
You’ll thank me when you are the same,
saved from yourself when you are us.
Allow me to review where you must change,
to be as good as those in the box.
Allow me to confide the pains
I feel when you’re revealed.

The beliefs of my masters do call,
they allow me to tow the line.
We do exist in a state of FUD
in pursuit of most pure politics.
Opponents are inhuman beasts,
and I see you as not one of them,
so please speak not to our differences
or I’ll question what I’ve been told.

I keep my divinity at arm’s length,
or blind myself with roaring rage.
Your alternative path is unwelcomed
especially if it speaks to my heart.
The structure of my life is concrete,
foundation of who I believe I am.
To see God outside of these confines
would call me to the true design.

Your sexual identity is so confused,
speaking to the whispers in my head.
Check the locks on doors closed tight,
you’ll not break out the waking beast.
Begone bedroom provocateur,
I’ll not admit my desires are similar.
To echo the thoughts I do repress
is your greatest sin to this day.

You ask me why I’m open minded,
desiring cooperation of the masses.
This is for the good of all of us,
says the little voice in my heart.
That voice so full of fear and dread,
unable to accept those unlike mine.
Something must be done to set things right,
to whitewash the stains in my eyes.

You see that what I ask is best,
that you join in with the rest of us.
The box is large enough you’ll see
if you lose the untidy parts of yourself.
They’ll be no judgment of you friend
when your slate is wiped clean.
Take the mask and stand in line,
the box only consumes those of like kind.

© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.
kokopelle: Horse Totem (On-Target)
On a pagan oriented LJ group I found a message that made me both react and think, a good combination. The entry referenced a webpage written by a generic Christian who went to Wiccan and then to Pentecostal. She now proselytizes to those who can be turned away from Wicca. My first reaction was comment on the blanket assumptions the proselytizing message contained. My second reaction was to think about the nature of the message, one of a personal experience, is a first-person commentary. This brought me back from roundly condemning the world for this one person's expression of life experience.

The first-person commentary is a common format for tales of spiritual change, growth and adventure. Often the names of the author's associates are changed or the occurrences happen in a place and time distance. The events cannot be verified in a scientific way. Indeed, this is the nature of the personal experience. Carlos Castaneda is a excellent example of this phenomenon. He published many books about his experiences in the Mexican shamanic world. While the books contained many details about people, places and events, the ability to verify these experiences has not been possible as Castaneda chose to shroud his life in mystery. I read all of Castaneda’s books. They did richly inform my spiritual life, giving me glimpses into the possibilities of shamanism. According to his words, Castaneda’s life was one of spiritual adventure.

The tales were inspiring, prompting me to read other author's stories of shamanic initiation and change. I continued to do this for several years. The settings, beings and magicks in each story varied. The common thread was one of shedding of the past, spiritual growth by struggle, opening of new realities, adapting of spiritual tools, and ascension to a place of power/responsibility. Again, this was inspiring, but there was something missing. I realized that the stories were about other people's lives. While my eyes were opened to opportunities, my own life was not truly enriched by merely reading these stories.

I was reading these books during the incubating period of my shamanic walk. A dear friend of mine would ask, "what are YOU doing?". Her point was that reading about all these other people did not necessarily mean that my life was developing. In time I put aside this form of shamanic literature. Reading the "personal stories" of others, in the first-person narrative format, only told me about what others were doing. The words they shared were their own. The experiences they had were fantastic and unprovable. It was time for me to have my own fantastic and unprovable experiences. My shamanic path continued.

This brings back to my second reaction to the proselytizing message. The message was personal. While it contained echoes of a larger school of spiritual beliefs, the story was only one person's expression of their own experiences. My cynical condemnation of an entire group was not a valid response. The world has it's share of people creating characters to express an ideological agenda. The world is more full of people who are sincere and real, expressing their first-person life stories. On the other hand, the unquestioning accepting embrace of an entire group based on only one life story is not valid. It is up to me to both validate and create my own life story. In my story the cynical condemnation would be replaced with discerning judgment. In my story my unquestioning accepting embrace would be replaced with the wisdom of personal knowledge.

Now, my own life journey has become paramount to me. I see the stories of others as mirrors to my life. While other people's stories inform me, it is my life's own prism by which I discern the world. I rejoice in the educational interactions with others even while I seek to discover who I truly am, who I truly am destined to be.

(x-posted to allpaths)

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