Membership in God-aholics Anonymous

Dear Friends,

"Time to change channels," a friend writes to me about this never-ending god-business. Were it so simple. What I've learned is that there is no changing channels when the medium itself is the message. It's all TV. It's all bifurcated consciousness. It's all the God Game. I see myself now as a recovering god-aholic. And talking to you via this blog is my way of staying in a 12-step program that meets in cyberspace and staying sober. Talking, sometimes screaming, sometimes ranting, is my way of going to meetings. "My name is Dave and I am a chimera trying to stop chasing the chimera called God." One chimera is enough, as Ramana Maharshi might answer if I talked to him using such terms. 

A Zen master was asked how he treated neurotics. He said he gave them plenty of pasture but made sure there was a fence. As another friend so eloquently wrote me yesterday, giving plenty of pasture was the method of his/our teacher, Bawa Muhaiyadden. I remember once arguing with Bawa about the importance of a mantra given to me by a previous teacher. "I was told this was the sacred mantra used by sages throughout time to unlock the secrets of the universe," I pleaded stubbornly. Bawa said simply, "That was then, this is now. Time for something else."

I lost count of all the something-elses years ago. Only recently did I realize that the god-aholic was in a constant quest for new methadones to substitute for the original heroin. That heroin: religion. So the torments of sobriety bring new cravings and pain. Life without religion as a useable adjunct is very hard. Developing the theory of evolution cost Darwin his Judeo-Christian faith; but out of fear and compassion for others, he withheld his findings for years and years. 

As much as I hate to say this, religion is for me an incurable wound--like shrapnel embedded in some place too deep or delicate for a surgeon's scalpel. I have to learn to live with this handicap. That means meta-physical therapy.

This past weekend, I was readying boxes of books to take to a local thrift store. I put most of Bawa's books in the sacks I was loading. As I did so, I trembled, as if I was daring the God I am fighting hard to be done with once and for always to strike me down with a vintage bolt of his signature lightning. That guilt gave me an instant reading of the progress--or lack thereof--of my recovery. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I need this exchange. I need your company. I need to see how you cope with your drinking problems. I know I need to talk about mine. And from the beauty of your emails I know you need to talk about yours. I don't know if, as my friend Ed Weiss believes, evolutionary biology will explain the one remaining question: why Creation in the first place? I still believe in what is now being called "moral intelligence" and I still believe that there is a 100th monkey 10,000 miles away unaccountably, spontaneously ready to act in a higher-order way no creature in the vast immediate vicinity has before. Sooner or later, my mythology of ontogeny tells me, non-duality will become a permanent, common feature of consciousness--and that in this way we God-aholics are evolutionary pioneers. Unitary consciousness will become coin and custom of the realm. It is then that we will have the protection of revelation against the veils that keep us from it. Nothing to seek or find in a world of constant disclosure.

Please keep your cards and letters coming. Address them to the name Buddha is rumored to have taken after his enlightenment, "No One You Know"--Yet.

Love to you all, and I'll keep brewing green tea.

David

"Covenant"

COVENANT

            for the West Philly Ex-Pats

1

Until the heart stops beating

flesh is Zion and birth is homecoming.

Until the heart stops beating

mind teems with exile-thoughts it must learn to tame.

Until the heart stops beating

lives are sealed in tombs of time.

Until the heart stops beating

this body is locus of dreams and dramas.

Until the heart stops beating

these hands are handed the reliquary of relay.

Until the heart stops beating

this life is the only lit thing for miles.

Until the heart stops beating

the heart remains a captive of constancy

powerless to stop the power to be.

2

You have no choice

but to sing the Lord's song

wherever it is asked of you.

Your life unchained and reclaimed

is the temple rebuilt

whose walls do not fall.

You won't remember

the words of the psalm

until you write them.

Come sit here

where you're not a stranger

not even to yourself.

3

Spells won't bring it back

or make it last

a moment longer.

If you must conjure

learn to spell

you name

as one of God's.

--David Federman, Ardmore, March 4, 2014

"I Heard It Said"

1
A roaring river
is the shorest distance
between two places.
Once you got up the guts or necessity
to throw yourself into its flow
it took you to the next town
in a fraction of the time
it would have taken
if you had walked
or been running for your life.

2
No one looked as good
with her clothes off
as Helen from Troy.
I've seen men trade their tractors
sell their last hunting rifles
for a peek that proved
the man who started the rumor
as right as anything
in the Bible.

3
It's a sin to tell a lie
even if it gets you laid
or paid in full.
I'm still waiting
for lightning to strike
me dead or regretful
for those satisfactions.

4
Jesus is Lord
despite the flesh wounds
that even resurrection couldn't heal.
He appeared to his followers
like a mirage in the desert
40 days after the hanging.
By then most of his friends
had new lives going
identical to the old ones
he interrupted.

5
Don't believe what you read in the papers.
The truth is what suits someone's purpose--
someone who's got big plans for you
and bigger plans for himself.

6
Love your neighbor
as you would yourself.
I gave that advice a try
and offered my wife for his.
If you want to know what happened next
go back to the first poem
and pray you're a good swimmer.

--David Federman, February 28, 2014

Letters To My Grnadchildren

1

Dear Max and Maxine,

The coast is not yet clear.

Storm warnings are still in effect.

You couldn't have picked a worse time

for glad tidings.

Stay hidden

in the gauzy, tender folds

of dreamland

until further notice.

2

My Sweet Little Gossamers,

What’s the rush?

There is nothing left but consequence

of the industrial colossus

your parents’ parents were the last ones 

with liberty to take for granted.

When we walked away

we never dreamed

a day would come

when we couldn't find 

a spot of wasteland remaining

to spit on

in defiance or disgust.

3

My Wonderful Un-Created Ones, 

What can your progenitors offer

to make it worth your while

to trade paradise

for this parking lot?

This Eden is in rapid transition from Earth to Mars.

Deconstruction signs are everywhere.

The moment you are born

your bones will already be fossils

not worth finding

by anyone intent on seeing

signs of life

worth living.

4

My Foolish Urchins,

Remain in God.

There is no greater proof of Him

than the silence

He has no need to break

as long as you stay put 

in paradise.

5

My Good Little Godlings,

The newborn forget everything they knew

within days of their arrival.

A growing number of them

think the place they left

is filled with vestal virgins

just itching for the sex

they were promised

for blowing up a coffee shop.

Keep the remembrance

of true heaven alive

by laughing at any thought of leaving

that unruined realm of souls.

6

Dear Baby Jesus and Mary,

Please don’t become the price

your parents had to pay

for a roll in the hay.

Stay where you belong

and let the joy of their sex

be the reason

not an excuse 

for feeling it.

7

My Dearest Gleams,

I’m not saying to postpone

your travel plans forever.

What I’m saying is this:

Your parents have to earn the right

to dream of inviting you here.

The right to life

is the right to life worth living.

Those who force you on us now

can’t expect you

to fix the mess

they made of the place

and which your births 

will only make worse.

--Ardmore, February 27, 2014

We Stand By Our Words

The Nobel Prize has become a meaningless honor in just about every category in which it is given. In no area has this award been more besmirched than in that of world peace. Ever since President Obama was chosen as the Nobel Peace Laureate in October 2009, the committee has been making even more absurd, craven and irrelevant choices. We all know who deserved the prize in 2010: Julian Assange. And a year later it should have gone to Bradley Manning, followed by Edward Snowden. These men are the greatest peace activists in the world today. God bless them, keep them safe and secure their freedom from imprisonment.

Shortly after the announcement of President Obama as the Peace Prize recipient, Monique Frugier and myself wrote and circulated a petition to rescind the award to Obama. Only 134 people signed. When our commander-in-chief gave an acceptance speech that was comprised largely of a lecture on the necessity of "just war," he ridiculed the prize he was given and the people who gave it. It was a disgraceful performance. And we knew then, as we know now, we were right to have begged Oslo to come to its senses. Just for kicks, here's the text of our petition:

NØbel For Obama

When on October 9, 2009, Barack Obama became the fourth U.S. president to be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, the world's most prestigious human affairs honor, it was viewed both by giver and recipient as an act of faith that would be justified by future actions. President Obama himself said it was more "a call to action" than a recognition of any specific accomplishment. In explaining its bold faith-based gesture, the Norwegian Nobel Committee said its unanimous decision was based on Obama's "extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation among peoples." The Committee took special note of the president's restoration of "dialogue and negotiation" as the cornerstones of American foreign policy, lauding his leadership "on the basis of values and attitudes shared by the majority of the world's population" as well as "renewed US commitment to international organizations." We the undersigned believe that in the two months following this stirring announcement, President Obama has undermined the trust on which this award was made and by so doing sacrificed his eligibility for it. We cite two major violations of this trust: 1- the refusal to join the international Landmines Treaty five years after its ratification 2- the decision to escalate the war in Afghanistan by sending an additional 30,000 US troops to that embattled nation. In light of President Obama's failure to accept the Nobel Committee's implicit invitation to be a peacemaker, we the undersigned ask this august body to revoke this award and, instead, give it to someone who has shown by actions not just rhetoric repeated commitment to the principles on which this award is based. In asking the Committee to take this unprecedented action, we believe that this body will be acknowledging its premature and mistaken judgment and also defending the integrity of this momentous honor. Last, we believe that such a revocation will send a message to all future recipients that their most inspired words must be followed by significant deeds. Note: The following petition to cancel awarding the Nobel Peace Price to Barack Obama will be sent to Dag Terje Anderson, the current president of the Norwegian Parliament, to forward to Thorbjorn Jagland, head of the Norwegian Nobel Committee which is part of the parliament. 

Sponsor

Monique Frugier and David Federman, activists for Justice and Peace.

Poem: "Pilgrim's Progress"

1
Somewhere
where some of us
have learned
to sit still

the sum
of us
waits for
days like this

to become
every soul's
last known
whereabouts

2
You can't go home again
is an opinion held
by those who have never been
at home with themselves.

3
Revelation is a building permit:
Permission is granted
to make of yourself

the home
you have spent your life so far
failing to find.
 
4
Finders keepers
of the flame
no god would keep
for himself

Losers weepers
of the blame
no man has need for
once he is all

that remains

5
Home is habitat
where it is habit
to find what you need.

Lately it strikes you
the universe is designed
for competence.

6
Knock and the door shall open.
Ask and you shall receive.
How much clearer can the hanged man be
that every prayer for guidance is the answer to itself.

7
I can't sleep in rooms with crucifixes.
It isn't fair to leave a man stranded in agony.
Take him down and call an ambulance.
Resurrection is the good sense
to save the life of a man
who once saved yours.

--David Federman, Ardmore, February 23, 2014

Poem: "No Exit"

1
On the inside
looking out
no end in sight

no end of sight

2
God here
reporting for duty

God here
on the case

God here
using your eyes

to see
through

3
No other way
out

except to look
at it

with your eyes

4
Suppose you were
someone else

Suppose you were
the man you always wanted to be

Suppose you could be dead
in a painless instant

Suppose you could sleep
with Cleopatra or Bardot in their prime

Suppose you could turn shit
to gold

Whatever happens
nothing will be different

5
From the moment
you were born
you used light borrowed
from stars already dead a billion years.

From the moment
you were born
you were already living
in the afterlife.

6
Here is there
by being as far as
the eye can see

7
On a clear day
you can see forever.
On a cloudy day
you can see as far as
you need to.

8
You are so much like your father
the one with a capital 'F

9
Ways pursued
and ways abandoned
come to this full stop
of attention
paid
in panoramic full

10
Drinks are on the house.
The Milky Way
is crying rivers
of spilled milk
above the rooftops
this crystalline night.

11
No exit
from the theater
where you breathe
the fire that consumes it.

12
What's wrong with this picture?
Storm clouds so buxom
there can be no end of rain.
Yet the river does as asked
and stays away from your door.

13
You can't go home again

because

a) you never left.
b) your reasons for doing so aren't right.
c) it's an inappropriate question for a college admissions exam
d) it's none of your business.
e) it's the name of a novel by Thomas Wolfe


14
Mind is matter
and all the thoughts it is composed of.
No need to conquer
what you already own.

15
When asked how to find God,
Zen master Rinzai said,
"Looking for God
is like putting a head
on top of the one you already have."

"Do you mean
we should call off the search?"
a student inquired.
Rinzai answered,
"I would very much like to meet
the man you will call on to do that."

--David Federman, Ardmore, February 20, 2013