Nature and Human Nature, Rites of Passage

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

As one season passes into another, so too the seasons of human life. For me, the relationship between human nature and nature is best summed up by the words of Albert Camus: “In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”

Spring, summer, autumn, winter ... not dissimilar a rites of passage as we humans (whoever, wherever we maybe) journey through the mind-body-spirit of any whose lives we may have touched by word or deed, lessons learned even ... to be passed on, and on again ... until no one remembers the original source yet something of its place on all our learning curves across a past-present-future to which we all subscribe and contribute, each in his and her own way. Such, to my way of thinking, is immortality.

For now, spring is here again. I look out of my window and am filled with the joy and wonder of rebirth. I may not be a religious man, but as I ponder the endless path of nature’s four seasons, I do not regret preferring nature to dogma. There is a spirituality in nature that touches and moves me more than any religion ever could.

NATURE AND HUMAN NATURE, RITES OF PASSAGE

As a new leaf on an old oak,

find a mind-body-spirit regenerating

greener centuries

As new buds on a rose bush

find all animal senses coming on heat

after a wintry frost

As new petals on a daffodil,

find emotions rising above their flaws

on a robin’s wings

As driftwood on home shores,

find young potential needing to be put

to better use than this

As seeds on a southern wind,

find life forces placing time and space

on a learning curve

As pilgrims to raison d’être,

find ghosts dead set on helping us live.

let live, have a voice

As fairy tales to a child’s mind,

find ancient legends wringing metaphors

from contemporaneity

As singing wires to cloth ears,

find rebel green campaigners messaging

the Earth’s naysayers

As ashes to ashes, dust to dust,

find art and science performing last rites

over tablets of stone

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Innocent, Until Proven Human (As Defined by Rites of Conscience)

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

I once saw a foal and a child born at different times of the same day. One had no conscience and would remain a picture of innocence until its slaughter for human convenience; the other would soon become wise to the ways of the world and learn to manipulate them … one way or another.

INNOCENT, UNTIL PROVEN HUMAN (AS DEFINED BY RITES OF CONSCIENCE)

Every birth, a celebration,
history redeeming
the very nature of creation

At break of day, an ovation
for each living thing;
every birth, a celebration

From its time of hibernation,
a glorious spring;
the very nature of creation

At the heart of every season,
find love enduring;
every birth, a celebration

If history pauses for no one,
find in its evolving,
the very nature of creation

Seeds of a world’s salvation
here for the nurturing;
at every birth, celebration,
the very nature of creation

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009; 2015

Unfinished Symphony

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

Strange, isn't it, how one recalls the oddest things about school days...?  I was listening to a bird singing its heart out on our classroom window sill and missed a question put to me by my English Teacher. Without thinking, I confessed the reason, adding for good measure that it sounded as if it was trying to tell us something. (I was known to be something of a dreamer even in those days and had written poems for the school magazine for which I was often mocked although never nastily). 

The rest of the class burst out laughing. 

My ears burned on receipt of some good-natured jeering. Expecting a reprimand, I was surprised (and not a little relieved) when the teacher commented, 'Nature is always trying to tell us something, Taber. The trouble is, only the likes of painters and poets can ever be bothered to listen. Now, where was I...?" whereupon he proceeded with the lesson without my ever knowing what his question had been. Such is life, I guess, where time - up to a point - is customised, and rarely (if ever) finished with us until we are finished with it.

This poem is a villanelle.

UNFINISHED SYMPHONY

Music of the Earth
invoking its biography,
at birth and rebirth

Come sorrow, mirth,
(womb-tomb of history)
Music of the Earth

Playing up to a dearth
of uncommon humanity
at birth and rebirth

Testament to its worth;
(crescendo, an epiphany)
Music of the Earth

At humankind's hearth,
an unfinished symphony
at birth and rebirth

Nature, eternal wreath
celebrating Man's integrity;
Music of the Earth
at birth and rebirth

Copyright R N. Taber 2009; 2018

[Note: I only recently revised this poem, and I dare say those readers who had already taken me to task for indulging in so-called 'poetic license' regarding its rhyming scheme will be disappointed, but that's poets for you, we cheat sometimes...]

A Harper's Song

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

As requested by a number of readers, the link below is to my informal poetry reading on the 4th plinth in London's Trafalgar Square; it was my contribution to sculptor Antony  Gormley's One and Other 'live' sculpture' project which involved 2,400 people doing their 'own' thing' for one hour 24/7 over 100 days during the summer of 2009:

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T [NB: Sept 19, 2019 - The British Library confirmed today that he video is no longer available as it was incompatible with a new IT system, However, it still exists and BL hope to reinstate it and make it available to the public again at some future date.] RNT

Meanwhile...

My mother once told me that the best thing a parent can do for his or her children is to encourage them to think for themselves, believe in themselves and stand on their own two feet. Oh, but that is all so true!

Ah, but she never said it would be easy for either parent or child. She certainly had a hard time with me and I am just so grateful she persevered. Although she died in 1976 at the age of 59, I like to think she would be pleased if not proud I’ve come as far as I have. True, this may not seem very far to some people, but to paraphrase the legendary Neil Armstrong, one person’s small step is another person’s giant leap.

A HARPER’S SONG

A child is born and its very first cry
plays on the heart like a harp to the soul;
instrument for a lifetime, you and I,
following every note’s rise and fall

A child is born and its eyes upon us
read the words in our hearts like a poem
about life’s great joys and its mysteries
if sometimes, the challenge, a battle hymn

A child is born and we’ll tell everyone
of this jewel come to light that is ours,
and may it shine like the morning sun
nurturing earth’s songbirds and flowers

Be there cheers or tears, let the harper play
and the child, like a flower, find its way

[From: On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]