Drumming up Raison d'être OR Music to the Ear

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Still stressed out here, but where there's stress, there may well be - invariably so, in my case - a poem attempting to relieve it ...

Now, regular readers will know that I subscribe to no religion; the closest I identify with any sense of a God is as a philosophy that turns on nature rather than dogma which has, in turn, led me to identify closely with pantheism. 

My Religious Education teacher at secondary school once asked my fifth form class to put our hands up if we believed in God. A forest of hands shot up to confirm that, yes, most of the class did. Only a few of us kept hands on desks. One by one we were asked why we didn't believe in God. While most  simply shrugged and looked increasingly embarrassed, somehow found the nerve to insist that I could not imagine a personified God and saw no reason to take the word of any religious text since I saw religion as being one of the most divisive forces in world history. (I had recently read something along those lines and instantly empathised with the author.) To my surprise and relief, I was not taken to task for presuming to differ. Instead, the teacher asked me if I believe in nature, to which I managed a positive "Yes, sir!" 

"Then you are a pantheist, Taber," the teacher said, and went on to try and explain pantheism to the whole class. Someone asked if pantheism was a sin. "Not exactly," said the teacher, "because it does not deny the existence of God, only of God as an individual.The pantheist sees God as an expression of everything in the universe, especially nature; it is a philosophy as opposed to a Faith. A person's faith may well consider pantheism a sacrilege, but that is only according to its dogma. Whether we accept or reject any dogma, on whatever grounds, is entirely up to the individual. Taber's choosing to reject it, doesn't mean he is right or wrong any more than the rest of us who choose to accept it. Either way, attributing a meaning to God that is meaningful to the inner self will, hopefully, sustain us all our lives and beyond. Now, to move on ..."

I am paraphrasing in part, but this has to be more than simply the gist because those words were destined to remain in my head for the next sixty years. (I will be 75 in December)

Hopefully, I have also answered the question recently emailed me by a reader who  is offended by  my commenting - on more than one occasion - that religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality. The latter, this reader insists, 'requires a Belief in God as laid down by Holy Books.'

What can I say? I can only suggest we agree to differ, especially as he (or she) also has some nice things to say about my poetry, and is clearly a regular visitor to this blog.

"If you want to build a ship, don't drum up people to collect wood and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea."

- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

DRUMMING UP RAISON D'ÊTRE or MUSIC TO THE EAR

I smell autumn,

even as sounds of summer

drift by my window

on a gentle, southerly breeze;

Earth Mother

at my ear, ever warning me

against despair;

each season's heart beating out

the slow-quick-slow

rhythms of any given life span

on drums across the world

I spot swallows,

aware their time has come again

to elude winter's bite

before it's too late to take wing

for kinder climes,

taking their cue (invariably)

from a north wind

now plucking, now tearing leaves

from nesting trees,

like a bailiff serving due notice

to quit, little if any reprieve

Elderly couples,

grandchildren skipping alongside

mums pushing prams,

all pause to watch the swallows,

all noise and silence

asking a what-where-why 

mentoring humankind,

listening out for answers in the wind

that are a blur on the ear

manifesting itself in sciences, arts,

and philosophies of religion

Gone, the swallows.

out of sight, out of mind, like friends

who have moved away,

promising to have us come and stay

'one of these days';

loneliness, a snowfall of the heart

on mind-body-spirit;

Memory, keeping a weather eye open 

for swallows in the course

of its seeking answers to questions

posed by past-present-future

Time passes, winter 

melts into spring, swallows returning;

an invitation out of the blue

from friends moved away, anxious

to avoid speculation;

nature, left sleeping on sounds-smells

of other seasons

by way of its nurturing more life forms;

humanity, left asking

of arts and sciences such proof of life

as might nurture raison d'être

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2019; 2020