Great Comments 3, Liz’s Day

Liz at Letting me Be is my guardian angel. Without her I wouldn’t be blogging any more. She’s posted a comment to add to my little blog contest. I think she chose this because she knew I’d like it. It’s my kind of spacey rumination. Thank you, Liz. The post is called Glittering Flower Commerati.

Blogzilla’s ‘Zilla posted the comment to a post called The Flower.

‘Zilla said…
“The flower spends no time
thinking about being a flower.”

Who presumes what a flower thinks about, or does not think about?

Perhaps one of the many beauties of a flower is that, if it dares to speak of what humans may be thinking, we cannot hear it.

D. T. Suzuki would have been proud. Just be the flower and speak in flower thoughts.

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Empty Nature

Empty nature whispers its secrets more clearly, uninhibited by our inhibitions.
Empty of paper, we free trees, and grow with them.
Empty of water, we die. Water is sacred and must be cherished.
Empty of land we fly, light as air.
Empty of air we suffocate. Breathe with respect for air also breathes us.
Empty of fire, our hearts grow cold, unable to burn love.
Empty of mind, we know everything.

Great Comments 2, Clive’s Day

From Clive’s Gone Away, some amazing comment strings. He saved the real Chateaubriand for the end. I decided it was too dense for breakfast. So I chose this juicy piece of tenderloin to chew on, certainly an acceptable light meal for an Englishman, even in America. And also because it inspired a poem.

Ken wrote in response to Some Doom and Gloom:

History suggests to me that any imperialist culture which boasts of its own power has failed to understand that the seeds of its own mortality have already been sown. Leaders who define their ability to act in terms of the size of the budgets they wield rather than the social unity of their people have missed the point and have nothing to contribute except further ruin. Any society that reduces human life to an actuarial transaction designed to advantage those who already control the lion’s share of the wealth is bound to destroy itself in the longer term. We are in the endgame and the outlook is bleak. The carnage in New Orleans and the recent bombings in London are merely symptoms of an underlying illness which takes in huge areas of the planet. I wrote a poem recently which I called “Earthspeak” and, having read your piece, I think I’ll post it tonight.
Date Added: 02/09/2005

Ken did post the poem and it gives food for thought too.

Sounds like someone has been into the Toynbee jar. Can the US rise to the challenge of the next world age, giving birth to a new global civilization? Or will it slide into firey oblivion festering in its own hubris? Toynbee argued that “Civilizations die from suicide, not by murder.” Stay tuned for next centuries exciting episode.

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Great Comments 1, Melly’s Day

Melly at All Kinds of Writing decided to take the plunge and posted this playful comment by Josh to a post called How Does the Singularity Affect Writers.

I have a friend who is a physicist. We have discussions.

Him: “If you think 4 dimensions is hard, try eleven.”

Me: “Ahh, but what is a dimension, outside of something we as humans have invented as a benchmark of perception?”

Him: “Now you’re just being difficult.”

Me: “Ahh, but what is difficulty?”

Him: “Get out of my house, you metaphysical titwomp.”

Where is Bill Clinton when we need him? “That depends on what the meaning of titwomp is.” I bet Bill knows.

Ok kids, the waters fine. Who’s next?

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September Haiku

September suns rays
slice across verdant gardens.
Cold nights chill my toes.

Summer emptied.
I use days up as they come.
Silk breeze on my thigh.

Kitchen counter full.
Fall bounty clogs big pots.
Earth oars down the clock.

Rake dreams with windows open.
Kaleidescope trees.
Leaves need many big bags filled.

Pace this day’s flight with tastes
of Summer’s ripe bounty.
Pesto’s delight greens my mouth.

Morning mist weighs down dawn
Between Summer and Fall.
Coffee tastes better in cold weather.

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