9/11. This day has become a symbol. A political symbol that has been used to mute our true feeling of grief and horror for that day, and ignite in this nation a national terror, a political terror that was then used by Bush and Cheney to advance their perverted political ideology that otherwise would never have been accepted. The terrorists could not have hoped for such success. I remember President Double-yuh saying with fist pounding emphasis: “This will not stand!” and he was right. It did not stand, but was advanced by him and his puppeteers. I watched in disbelief as people were jumping from the windows of the towers and falling to the pavement like stunt doubles in an everyday Hollywood movie. But this was no movie. Then the collapse of the buildings, like hot wax melting and the dust clouds that seemed to have been released for the purpose of covering, finally, the horror of the scene. I kept saying, in my profound American ignorance, What do these people want? What are they so pissed off about? I was ignorant and detached, just another cookie-cutter Ugly American picking his nose in disbelief.
As a nation, we had a chance on that day to wake up and smell the stench of our selfishness and ignorance. Sadly, we blew it. Instead, what is now called 9/11 has become a call for our deep seeded bigotry to rise to the surface. Hate, hate, and more hate. Us and them. Axis of Evil. How many innocents killed since then in the name of American Freedom? The rise of a frightening nationalism (Nationalism is always frightening!). Religious zealotry. The invocation of God’s fucking name to somehow justify our pitiful anger and fear. We are a nation of morons. Tens of millions of us voted for Bush – the SECOND time around, and we are about to do it all once again. Why? Because we are angry. Angry that our pillows have not been fluffed properly. Angry that a black man is now the President of the United States. Angry that our greed and stupidity is finally catching up with us. Angry that our “I’ve got mine, and fuck you!” attitudes are no longer paying financial dividends. Angry that our precious, polluting, greedy, selfish nation is in deep decline, a decline from which we will not ever recover. The poor are angry because they want it all. The rich are angry because they can’t have more. The sick are dying. The children are ignorant. The hard working are unemployed. The wise are silent. The singers are mute. And the masses are pointing fingers at one another. Hate is our touchstone. Fear is our god! We worship fear and will kill for it. Why? Why, all this? Because we are not alive. Because we are not vital. Because we are not singing with the birds and swimming with the fish – the few that remain. Because we are all stuck in the spinning mantra: Make a living. Face reality. Do your duty. Pay your dues. Suck it up.
We have but one job in this life and that is to live. LIVE! Live our vitality. Live our dreams. Live in each moment. Live together as the brothers and sisters that we all are. Live the truth. Share the wealth of all this life provides. Help those in need and ask for help when in need. Don’t want for anything; accept everything. There is enough on the earth for all of us. Everything is provided. There is no need to hoard out of the fear of not enough.
This day can be transformed into a day of thanksgiving – thanksgiving for the moment in time when we, as a nation, turned away from the darkness of fear and into the light of hope and trust. This day can be transformed into a holy day, a celebration of life. It takes only our will and our dedication to joy and our renouncement of fear and our acceptance of the abundance of life of which we are an integral part.
Don’t worry, be happy!
Peace and love.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Friday, September 3, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
Pod Cast: GENE BERSON READING HIS POETRY 08/07/2010
Gene Berson circa 1070s
From HONEYDEW magazine
10/10/16 Podcast no longer active. :(
On August 7, 2010, Gene Berson read some of his poetry at the Center For The Arts in Grass Valley, California. On that night David Meltzer ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Meltzer ) and Neeli Cherkovski ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neeli_Cherkovski ) were the headliners and Gene read during the Open Mic segment. Gene renewed his friendship from the 1970's in the poetry scene in San Francisco with Neeli, and met David for the first time. David and Gene have since been in frequent contact and have developed a mutual respect for one another's work.
We recorded Gene's reading with a handheld portable recorder from the middle of the audience. 11:20
You can enjoy more of Gene Berson's poetry at: http://jeweltrance.blogspot.com/
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Pod Cast: CLASSICAL EDGE with TOM REDDOCK
Tom Reddock - way back when
Photo by Larry Miller
10/10/16 Podcast no longer active. :(
Eric Tome is the host of "The Classical Edge", a quasi-weekly music interest pod cast produced by KVMR fm in Nevada City, California. On August 23rd, 2010, we recorded the following radio show which focuses on many of my musical compositions, called Sonic Sculptures. Durring the 1:48 min show we discuss how I came to the idea of making Sonic Sculptures, the concepts involved in the process, and the inspiration behind some of the compositions.
Please enjoy the show. Your comments are appreciated.
TR
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Please Call Me By My True Names
Don’t say that I will depart tomorrow -
even today I am still arriving.
Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.
I still arrive, in order to laugh and cry,
to fear and to hope.
The rhythm of my heart is a birth and a death
of all that is alive.
I am a mayfly metamorphosing
on the surface of the river.
And I am the bird
that swoops down to swallow the mayfly.
I am a frog swimming happily
in the clear water of a pond.
And I am the grass-snake
that silently feeds itself on the frog.
I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks.
And I am the arms merchant,
selling deadly weapons to Uganda.
I am the twelve-year-old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself in the ocean
after being raped by a sea pirate.
And I am the pirate,
my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.
I am a member of the politburo,
with plenty of power in my hands.
And I am the man who has to pay
his “debt of blood” to my people
dying slowly in a forced-labor camp.
My joy is like Spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.
My pain is like a river of tears,
so vast it fills the four oceans.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up
and the door of my heart
could be left open,
the door of compassion.
Thich Nhat Hanh
This poem was written in 1978, during
the time of helping the boat people. It
was first read at a retreat in Kosmos
Center in Amsterdam, Holland,
organized by Niko Tideman. Daniel Berrigan
was there.
From the book: Call Me By My True Names,
The Collected Poems of
Thich Nhat Hanh
even today I am still arriving.
Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.
I still arrive, in order to laugh and cry,
to fear and to hope.
The rhythm of my heart is a birth and a death
of all that is alive.
I am a mayfly metamorphosing
on the surface of the river.
And I am the bird
that swoops down to swallow the mayfly.
I am a frog swimming happily
in the clear water of a pond.
And I am the grass-snake
that silently feeds itself on the frog.
I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks.
And I am the arms merchant,
selling deadly weapons to Uganda.
I am the twelve-year-old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself in the ocean
after being raped by a sea pirate.
And I am the pirate,
my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.
I am a member of the politburo,
with plenty of power in my hands.
And I am the man who has to pay
his “debt of blood” to my people
dying slowly in a forced-labor camp.
My joy is like Spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.
My pain is like a river of tears,
so vast it fills the four oceans.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up
and the door of my heart
could be left open,
the door of compassion.
Thich Nhat Hanh
This poem was written in 1978, during
the time of helping the boat people. It
was first read at a retreat in Kosmos
Center in Amsterdam, Holland,
organized by Niko Tideman. Daniel Berrigan
was there.
From the book: Call Me By My True Names,
The Collected Poems of
Thich Nhat Hanh
Thursday, June 3, 2010
THUS BEGAN MY DAY
Walking back from Yvonne’s, having discussed the new day’s weather, on my porch two skinks, six to eight inches in length, prehistoric legs with tiny toes and claws, lizard heads, cold patience, one’s mouth open and clamped onto the head of the other, their bodies erotically side by side, eyes open, frozen in mid-gesture, obviously in the throes of passionate reptilian intercourse when interrupted by the clomping feet of my arrival.
I stopped to stare.
In a synchronized flash, one jaw still latched to the head of the other, they dashed in perfect unison across the deck and leaped off the side onto the grass beneath an oak tree. There, again frozen in reptilian time, open jaw still clamped onto the head of the other, side by lizard side, they waited. I, flustered for having interrupted their passion, paused and then stepped inside and closed the door quietly.
I stopped to stare.
In a synchronized flash, one jaw still latched to the head of the other, they dashed in perfect unison across the deck and leaped off the side onto the grass beneath an oak tree. There, again frozen in reptilian time, open jaw still clamped onto the head of the other, side by lizard side, they waited. I, flustered for having interrupted their passion, paused and then stepped inside and closed the door quietly.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
The Living Universe
The first thing God had to do when he decided to create the universe was to sacrifice himself. He needed the raw materials to do the job. God is the matter of which the universe is made. God is the living universe, all the various forces of energy, including spiritual, and all living things, and things inert.
And each individual part encompasses the whole. That is the miracle. When you pray to God you are praying to yourself and to everything else, so listen carefully.
We have a job to do. Our job is to live. Beautifully.
And each individual part encompasses the whole. That is the miracle. When you pray to God you are praying to yourself and to everything else, so listen carefully.
We have a job to do. Our job is to live. Beautifully.
Friday, April 9, 2010
ESCALATOR DREAM
1985
I am sitting on a small white beach. The sand is clean and fine. There are a few others on the beach, but not many – some children playing in the waves, as their parents watch from near by, and a few other groups sitting quietly, or wading in the lapping surf. The beach is enclosed by sheer cliffs and fronted by the empty sea. High over the cliffs where they cannot be seen run broad fields of tall grasses, stretching as far as can be seen in all directions. The green grasses wave in the afternoon breeze. In the distance graze a small herd of white horses.
It is pleasant to sit like this on this beach with no sense of urgency or need of anything. I feel that I could stay on this beautiful beach forever.
Presently a man of about my age jogs past and continues on to the far end of the beach, then returns. As he jogs by he turns to me and smiles in a friendly way. I get the feeling that he looks familiar but do not recognize him. At the other end of the beach he turns again and jogs toward me. As he nears he motions for me to join him. I jump up and run along next to him. He increases his speed, as do I to keep up with him. Soon we are running at top speed, exhilarated and laughing.
Near the end of the beach I notice a small group of people gathered together and I stop to see what they are doing. I see that there is an escalator going down into a hole in the beach. Some of the people are stepping onto the escalator and disappearing into the darkness. A woman, who I suddenly recognize as my friend Susan S., is helping the people step onto the escalator. She notices me and waves for me to come over. I wave back, but decline to go over to her. My jogging friend passes by and I join him again for another run across the beach. As we return once again near the escalator, I look at him and suddenly realize why he looks familiar. He is me! As I realize this he laughs and waves good-bye. I stop in amazement and watch him as he runs down the beach and gradually fades from sight. I hear Susan calling for me to come over. She motions for me to step onto the escalator, but I am hesitant. “It is time”, she says, and holds my hand as I step on.
The steps of the escalator are as wide as I can see. There are a few others scattered along the steps, but no one close to me. In a few moments it becomes pitch black, and I cannot see or hear anyone. As I glide smoothly down into the darkness, I notice that the temperature is rising steadily. The further I go down, the warmer it gets. Far down below me I can now see a small light. The temperature continues to rise and it is getting hard to breathe. The light is growing larger as I move closer toward it. Soon the heat becomes near unbearable, and the light is growing brighter as it becomes hotter and hotter until I can’t stand another moment, and then I hear a pop and I evaporate, and I am back on the beach sitting quietly on the sand.
My double jogs past again smiling as he goes by. I watch him pass without responding, and he fades from sight. Without thinking I stand up and walk over to the escalator. Susan is there urging me to step on, but I say, “No, I just tried that.” She smiles patiently and reaches out her hand to me saying again, “It is time.” I step onto the escalator once again and slide down into the darkness. As before, the temperature begins to rise as I go deeper into the darkness. The light is down there as before, and grows larger and brighter as the heat rises. The heat is pressing against me and nearly suffocating. I stare into the bright light determined to reach it this time, but as the heat becomes unbearable there is the pop once again, and I evaporate as before, and there I am once again on the beach, and Susan is waving for me to get back on the escalator.
“But why must I go?” “Because it is time”, she says, and once again I step onto the escalator and sink down into the darkness. As the heat rises I stay focused on the light. I feel that I must reach the light and am determined to make it this time. The heat is pressing me as I get closer and closer to the light. It grows hotter and hotter and just as I come very close to the light I hear the pop and I evaporate once again.
This time I am sitting on a bench in a very large room the size of Grand Central Station. The floors are marble and the ceilings are very high with glowing lights hanging down from the peaks. People are walking together or sitting quietly on the benches talking. There is no sense of urgency as one might feel in a railway station, but on the wall across from me is a large clock with the second hand jerking from second to second. The time is 11:29 PM. I stand and walk across the room. I pass through a tall door and there, once again, is the escalator and Susan helping people get on. She waves for me to come over. As I reach the escalator she smiles, reaching out her hand to me, and says, “It is time”. As I step onto the escalator, I glance at the large clock on the wall just as it turns to 11:30 PM.
Down into the darkness I glide once again, this time determined to reach that bright light. The heat begins to build and far below in the darkness glows the small white light. As the heat increases my determination is focused and fixed on the light, which grows larger and brighter. Hotter, and hotter the heat builds and presses against my body, but I am determined and keep my attention focused on the light, which is now quite bright. As the heat intensifies I feel as if it is pushing me in a throbbing motion. I realize that I could not stop now if I wanted to. The heat is throbbing, and the light is larger and brighter, and coming nearer and nearer, and just as I am about to suffocate from the pressure of the heat I suddenly emerge through the opening into the brightest light I have ever known and I let out one long scream. The doctor who is holding me in his hands smiles up at my new mother and says, “It’s a boy.”
I am sitting on a small white beach. The sand is clean and fine. There are a few others on the beach, but not many – some children playing in the waves, as their parents watch from near by, and a few other groups sitting quietly, or wading in the lapping surf. The beach is enclosed by sheer cliffs and fronted by the empty sea. High over the cliffs where they cannot be seen run broad fields of tall grasses, stretching as far as can be seen in all directions. The green grasses wave in the afternoon breeze. In the distance graze a small herd of white horses.
It is pleasant to sit like this on this beach with no sense of urgency or need of anything. I feel that I could stay on this beautiful beach forever.
Presently a man of about my age jogs past and continues on to the far end of the beach, then returns. As he jogs by he turns to me and smiles in a friendly way. I get the feeling that he looks familiar but do not recognize him. At the other end of the beach he turns again and jogs toward me. As he nears he motions for me to join him. I jump up and run along next to him. He increases his speed, as do I to keep up with him. Soon we are running at top speed, exhilarated and laughing.
Near the end of the beach I notice a small group of people gathered together and I stop to see what they are doing. I see that there is an escalator going down into a hole in the beach. Some of the people are stepping onto the escalator and disappearing into the darkness. A woman, who I suddenly recognize as my friend Susan S., is helping the people step onto the escalator. She notices me and waves for me to come over. I wave back, but decline to go over to her. My jogging friend passes by and I join him again for another run across the beach. As we return once again near the escalator, I look at him and suddenly realize why he looks familiar. He is me! As I realize this he laughs and waves good-bye. I stop in amazement and watch him as he runs down the beach and gradually fades from sight. I hear Susan calling for me to come over. She motions for me to step onto the escalator, but I am hesitant. “It is time”, she says, and holds my hand as I step on.
The steps of the escalator are as wide as I can see. There are a few others scattered along the steps, but no one close to me. In a few moments it becomes pitch black, and I cannot see or hear anyone. As I glide smoothly down into the darkness, I notice that the temperature is rising steadily. The further I go down, the warmer it gets. Far down below me I can now see a small light. The temperature continues to rise and it is getting hard to breathe. The light is growing larger as I move closer toward it. Soon the heat becomes near unbearable, and the light is growing brighter as it becomes hotter and hotter until I can’t stand another moment, and then I hear a pop and I evaporate, and I am back on the beach sitting quietly on the sand.
My double jogs past again smiling as he goes by. I watch him pass without responding, and he fades from sight. Without thinking I stand up and walk over to the escalator. Susan is there urging me to step on, but I say, “No, I just tried that.” She smiles patiently and reaches out her hand to me saying again, “It is time.” I step onto the escalator once again and slide down into the darkness. As before, the temperature begins to rise as I go deeper into the darkness. The light is down there as before, and grows larger and brighter as the heat rises. The heat is pressing against me and nearly suffocating. I stare into the bright light determined to reach it this time, but as the heat becomes unbearable there is the pop once again, and I evaporate as before, and there I am once again on the beach, and Susan is waving for me to get back on the escalator.
“But why must I go?” “Because it is time”, she says, and once again I step onto the escalator and sink down into the darkness. As the heat rises I stay focused on the light. I feel that I must reach the light and am determined to make it this time. The heat is pressing me as I get closer and closer to the light. It grows hotter and hotter and just as I come very close to the light I hear the pop and I evaporate once again.
This time I am sitting on a bench in a very large room the size of Grand Central Station. The floors are marble and the ceilings are very high with glowing lights hanging down from the peaks. People are walking together or sitting quietly on the benches talking. There is no sense of urgency as one might feel in a railway station, but on the wall across from me is a large clock with the second hand jerking from second to second. The time is 11:29 PM. I stand and walk across the room. I pass through a tall door and there, once again, is the escalator and Susan helping people get on. She waves for me to come over. As I reach the escalator she smiles, reaching out her hand to me, and says, “It is time”. As I step onto the escalator, I glance at the large clock on the wall just as it turns to 11:30 PM.
Down into the darkness I glide once again, this time determined to reach that bright light. The heat begins to build and far below in the darkness glows the small white light. As the heat increases my determination is focused and fixed on the light, which grows larger and brighter. Hotter, and hotter the heat builds and presses against my body, but I am determined and keep my attention focused on the light, which is now quite bright. As the heat intensifies I feel as if it is pushing me in a throbbing motion. I realize that I could not stop now if I wanted to. The heat is throbbing, and the light is larger and brighter, and coming nearer and nearer, and just as I am about to suffocate from the pressure of the heat I suddenly emerge through the opening into the brightest light I have ever known and I let out one long scream. The doctor who is holding me in his hands smiles up at my new mother and says, “It’s a boy.”
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Thich Nhat Hanh and Henry Miller
I’ve been reading both Thich Nhat Hanh and Henry Miller at the same time. They speak the same language in different tongues. They sing of life with exuberance, skill, and clarity. The force of their honesty cannot be ignored. They oppose fear and all of its extensions: anger, greed, authoritarianism, power lust, denial, dependency, ambition, materialism, boredom, inadequacy, failure, self incrimination, disrespect, selfishness, hopelessness, in short, all the common qualities of politicians, lawyers, cops, military generals, university officials, bureaucrats, and most school teachers, priests, and business leaders as well. They opt for life in the moment with the fire of love in their eyes and peace in their hearts. They refuse to kill for any reason, especially patriotism. They open their hearts to everyone without exception, reaching across the great divide of ignorance to the forces of fear on both sides while refusing to take sides. They speak with everyone in mind, including the Hitler’s and Bush’s of our life and times, because they recognize that we are all here together in this wonderful moment, and they sing with forgiveness and grace in their hearts. Their goal is peace on earth in this singular, beautiful moment.
Friday, January 8, 2010
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