This place called here
Honored guests spoke to me today.
The first was the host of people who silently arrived with the epoxy-seal paint which now covers the area of my garage which serves as the entrance and waiting area for my office. The second was – no surprise – the March 2, 2017 on Being conversation between Krista Tippett and the Irish theologian and poet, Pádrai ò Tuama.
During the conversation, Pàdrai recites a poem and tells a story. Both challenged me. The story was about a man attending a two-day encounter. The man had described himself as a fundamentalist Christian. At the end of the encounter this man says that he has a question for all the homosexuals in the room. He says, “I want to know how many times since we’ve met together in the last while, have my words bruised you.”
One of his poems Pádre ò Tuama recites is:
“Pedagogy of Conflict.”
“When I was a child, / I learnt to count to five: / one, two, three, four, five. / But these days, I’ve been counting lives, so I count / one life / one life / one life / one life / Because each time is the first time that that life has been taken. / Legitimate Target / has sixteen letters / and one / long / abominable / space / between / two / dehumanizing / words.”
Wow! This poem arrived like a force opening my heart and my mind. Even though some might think of me as a wordsmith I often need reminded of the power of words to bruise, uplift, nurture, challenge, delight, humanize or dehumanize.
Words arrive by people. They arrive directly or indirectly. Words are both what we verbalize and what we leave unsaid.
Words arrive on or via my IPhone, via the computer, in a book, pamphlet, letter, or from the mouth of a person who is nearby or far away. Words accompany all the ingredients I bring home from the green grocer or the can of epoxy-seal pain I bring home from Lowe’s.
For me to enjoy the luxury of this gallon of paint many people gathered many ingredients, designed and manufactured machines, carried ingredients via foot or vehicle, met and gathered together to eventually end up in containers which were carried by men and women in boats, cars, planes and some by foot until I am then able to retrieve this seemingly innocuous can of paint, bring it home where it will leave the can and reside on the floor only to be joined by the feet of all the souls who enter this space. Each of these people brings a history of thousands of souls.
Everything come together to create “here.”
These voices which gather in the “here” speak volumes. The words offered in response will soothe the bruises or create new bruises.
Written March 4, 2017
Honored guests spoke to me today.
The first was the host of people who silently arrived with the epoxy-seal paint which now covers the area of my garage which serves as the entrance and waiting area for my office. The second was – no surprise – the March 2, 2017 on Being conversation between Krista Tippett and the Irish theologian and poet, Pádrai ò Tuama.
During the conversation, Pàdrai recites a poem and tells a story. Both challenged me. The story was about a man attending a two-day encounter. The man had described himself as a fundamentalist Christian. At the end of the encounter this man says that he has a question for all the homosexuals in the room. He says, “I want to know how many times since we’ve met together in the last while, have my words bruised you.”
One of his poems Pádre ò Tuama recites is:
“Pedagogy of Conflict.”
“When I was a child, / I learnt to count to five: / one, two, three, four, five. / But these days, I’ve been counting lives, so I count / one life / one life / one life / one life / Because each time is the first time that that life has been taken. / Legitimate Target / has sixteen letters / and one / long / abominable / space / between / two / dehumanizing / words.”
Wow! This poem arrived like a force opening my heart and my mind. Even though some might think of me as a wordsmith I often need reminded of the power of words to bruise, uplift, nurture, challenge, delight, humanize or dehumanize.
Words arrive by people. They arrive directly or indirectly. Words are both what we verbalize and what we leave unsaid.
Words arrive on or via my IPhone, via the computer, in a book, pamphlet, letter, or from the mouth of a person who is nearby or far away. Words accompany all the ingredients I bring home from the green grocer or the can of epoxy-seal pain I bring home from Lowe’s.
For me to enjoy the luxury of this gallon of paint many people gathered many ingredients, designed and manufactured machines, carried ingredients via foot or vehicle, met and gathered together to eventually end up in containers which were carried by men and women in boats, cars, planes and some by foot until I am then able to retrieve this seemingly innocuous can of paint, bring it home where it will leave the can and reside on the floor only to be joined by the feet of all the souls who enter this space. Each of these people brings a history of thousands of souls.
Everything come together to create “here.”
These voices which gather in the “here” speak volumes. The words offered in response will soothe the bruises or create new bruises.
Written March 4, 2017
RSS Feed