A Life in the Day of Mind-body-Spirit

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

“Make the most of your regrets; Never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it ’til it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

“Age has no reality except in the physical world. The essence of a human being is resistant to the passage of time. Our inner lives are eternal, which is to say that our spirits remain as youthful and vigorous as when we were in full bloom. Think of love as a state of grace, not the means to anything, but the alpha and omega. An end in itself.” – Gabriel García Márquez  

“Look closely and you will see almost everyone carrying bags of cement on their shoulders. That’s why it takes courage to get out of bed in the morning and climb into the day.” ~ Edward Hirsch

“Happiness quite unshared can scarcely be called happiness; it has no taste.” – Charlotte Bronte

Now, as each day passes, my 77th birthday looming (in December) I am often hard pressed to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life. I so miss being young, fit, able to make plans and feel confident that I will be well enough to not only carry them through, but also enjoy and learn from them. I miss having friends around for cosy chats and a laugh; many have moved away now and mobility problems make travelling difficult.

Ah, corny though it may sound, the human spirit really can keep us young at heart and soul, if only we will let it, Rarely (if ever) easy. We can but try, even if, as life itself invariably proves, it’s a case of ‘win some, lose some…’

A LIFE IN THE DAY OF MIND-BODY-SPIRIT

There are times in any life
when the flesh is weak, but the spirit
remains as strong as ever,
whatever its reasons or seasons,
be it a spring, summer, 
autumn or winter of mind-body-spirit;
it perseveres, encouraged
by a heart-and-soul, wiser beyond its years
to sources of human tears

There are times in any life
when waking after a poor night’s sleep 
leaves the body too weary
to even raise a smile at dawn’s rising
above early mist and cloud,
trying to force its way to half-open eyes 
and ears, through drapes 
at windows obscuring Everyman’s perception
of life, love, regeneration…

Finally, though, mind and body
takes its cue from what lends it sense,
sensibility and stability,
from birth to death, whatever in-between
may lie in wait, ready to pounce
and test us to limits sure to weigh heavy
on any host body, 
all the love attending it beseeching its survival
of Humanity’s heart-and soul

Alas, not every ear that hears
can comply with every caller’s bidding;
no call, though, is ever in vain,
no matter of the human outcome be loss,
and pain, in whatever form;
living, partly living, or stored in Memory’s
vault of eternal springtime,
there remain such ways for all selves to choose,
every which way, then…loose?

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

Nature Study

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Today’s poem has been slightly but significantly revised from the original version that appears in my collection, Love and Human Remains, Assembly Books, 2001

Now, a reader writes in to sat yesterday’s poem was “... a typical over-reaction to the amount of media attention given to fluke weather conditions this year...”

I usually respect intelligent points of view that conflict with my own, but this is hardly an intelligent response to a global crisis... well, is it?

NATURE STUDY

Brightness, falling from the sky
like summer rain, makes the flowers grow,
and the world shine
like rainbow trout on a school kid’s line
at a local stream,
who should be playing in a football team,
but his dad beat him
black and blue, with ma laid out
on the kitchen floor, and he’s not ready yet
to even take a shower

Brightness, falling from the sky
like acid rain, making the trees cry, as leaves
die like fishes everywhere
and other species, carefully laid out
under glass for science
and future generations to reason,
(or agree to differ)
how killing off a species smacks of depravation,
but biology, that’s education

Shadows, much like corpses
on the ground where skylarks once flew,
now a forgotten sound
at a spot where revelations in the clay
suggest a once-busy stream
in a world that aspired to give progress
a good run for its money,
no hint of humanity neatly laid out
under corporate glass for its endangered species
to argue rhetoric and excuses

High time humankind held Progress to its word,
encouraging a kinder, safer world...?...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; rev. 2021

Spirit of Autumn

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People often tell me they find autumn a sad month because it means winter is closing in, but as I have often pointed out on my blogs… after winter, spring.

Better, surely, to look forward to spring than dread winter? 

In the meantime, let us enjoy autumn for all its glorious colours and the sense of eternal optimism these are surely meant to inspire in us, an optimism that well may fail us from time to time...but, as my late mother once said, there is an eternal springtime of the loving, hopeful heart sure to inspire and help us through all the seasons of life, even the hardest of its winters...if we will but keep faith with it. When I pointed out that I was not a religious person, she simply responded to the effect that no religion has a monopoly on love and hope since we are all born with a potential capacity for both. How far we choose to apply it, she would argue, has more to do with human nature than religion. (My mother was a Christian, but like all the more remarkable religious-minded people, whatever their religion, she closed her heart and mind to no one.)

SPIRIT OF AUTUMN

Autumn leaves... 

Drifting by my window

like dreams I have nurtured

with love and care

in the garden of my life

where some flowered

in their season while others

were battered by wind and rain,

never to be seen again

Autumn leaves...

Whirling by my window

like dervishes in a frenzied

dance of life and death,

sustained by a rage to seize

the day, come what may,

on the battlefields of my life

where I have risked all to prove

a born capacity for love

Autumn leaves...

Clinging to my window

as Apollo clings to the last patch

of blue before sunset,

bids nature and human nature

rest on hard won laurels,

so-brief enough reprieve before

more rude awakenings to a world

falling on its sword

Autumn leaves...

Ripped from my window

like pages of memory best left

to whims of wind and rain

while I enjoy each dreamy leaf,

petal and blade of grass

found in the garden of my life

whose choirs heard singing each day

of my pride in being gay

Autumn leaves, tears of Earth Mother 

for any that cannot see beyond winter

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014; 2020

[Note: This post-poem also appears on my gay-interest blog today] RNT

World Without End

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Climate change, coronavirus, these threaten an already much-divided world all but destroying the very foundations of a common humanity;

Racism, sexism, undermining any individuals human right to their own points of view without resorting to violence or - at the very least – bad feeling. As I have asked before on the blogs, whatever happened to agreeing to differ?

Sadly, human nature is unlikely to change even if needs must we evacuate to another planet in some distant future. On the plus side, though, there will always be those whose sense of humanitarianism transcends being pressurised by any socio-cultural- religious mind-set to which they may well have been introduced during formative years but have resisted taking for gospel, keeping an open mind-body-spirit where it counts, open to friendly persuasion and always up for debate, but a closed door to any devils-in-the detail.

The world as we know it may well come to an end someday, but humanity will always find a way to give its free spirits and positive thinkers have a voice; a voice as universal as the universe itself, the voice of love.

It may sound corny and trite, but it is on the power of love that the better, kinder, stronger side of nature and human nature turns, guaranteeing us a world without end who consent to playa part on it, however big or small, wherever and whoever we are.

WORLD WITHOUT END

Pitting itself against the human race

like a marathon runner bent on making history,

challenging time and personal space,

conceding neither grace nor favour, no matter

for leaving mind-body-spirit drained,

but up to its finer life forces to go the last mile

or go down fighting, to whatever end

in store around the next bend, homing in on a blur

of some spurious course

No vaccine to give humanity any space

to tackle some win-or-lose agenda defying culture

and religion to come into play,

fulfil any promises made by dogma or whatever,

bent on refuting any sweet mystery

of life that might see mind-body-spirt take heart,

regenerate, prove itself a force worthy

of Earth Mother’s mentoring in readiness for staying

this or that spurious course

Humanity, fighting back the only way

it knows how, mind-body-sprit drawing regeneration

from a well of hope and determination,

drinking in waters of an earth whose natural quality

lifts endurance and perseverance

 of such magnificence as redefining humanity

for centuries, making and reworking

its history, something of an apology for past mistakes

for this or that spurious course

Covid-19 will take its toll, toll, leaving

its mark forever, but the pulse of human life beats on,

driven by a capacity for hope and love

capable of defeating even the worst circumstances

nature and human nature have delivered

since the beginning of time, history a learning curve

for better, for worse, guiding us

away from any spurious course, enabling all humanity

to listen and learn, to look and see

Such is life, its ethics undermined (if well-meaningly)

by divisive socio-cultural-political expediency

Copyright R. N Taber 2020

Seeing Red

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Preparing a new collection of poems, as I am, is proving more stressful than ever before, probably because - like most if not all of us - I am already stressed out by the Covid-19 pandemic. I keep coming across poems that are fine as far as they go … but strike me as not going quite far enough in saying what they mean to convey. Today’s (considerably revised) poem is such a case. I hope you will enjoy it as a poem offering food for thought, while bearing in mind that the poet’s own thought processes are as if feeling their way through an early morning mist right now.

I confess I’ve always had a great affinity with mist, a curiosity with and certain expectations for whatever it may reveal, especially as it lifts like the stage curtain on a play. Invariably, we human beings will need prompting, by mind-body-spirit no less, in whatever drama places us there in the first place, whether it be romance, tragedy, comedy, tragi-comedy, wicked satire … or a combination of all three. Most likely, the latter, bearing in mind the various parts we needs must play, each and every one of us comprising an all-star cast in a common humanity, called upon to play our part by a variety of life forces - love, hate, jealousy, regret, joy, grief, pain … to name but a few. That’s life. We can but address its various ways and means in an even greater variety of circumstances if only to have alter-ego whispering in our ear that we did well, but could have done better.

SEEING RED

Shades of red, colouring global reasoning

with a world of differences;

shades of red, colouring needs to weather

climate change;

shades of red, confronting world religions,

denying political agendas;

As I opened my eyes, I’d see but red, colour

of lives left bleeding;

as I opened my heart, I’d see that same red,

the agony of missing you;

though I open my mind, more shades of red,

chasing lost opportunities

Red, too, shades of last sunsets waiting upon

all human choices;

red also, on the flag that covered your coffin,

bugler, playing you home;

red, these lips that will never kiss yours again,

yet reassure generations

Shades of red, nurturing a growing disillusion

concerning ‘society’

Shades of red, humanity’s blatant stereotyping

its natural diversity;

Shades of red, confronting a history of shaping

 a much-divided humanity

Now, as I open my eyes, I still see red, a colour

of lost horizons, yes,

but opening up my heart to a splendid rainbow,

the sum of its colours

declaring an affinity with an only too human rage

to live, and win through it all

  

Copyright R.N. Taber 2007, 2020, 

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title ‘Red’ in Accomplices to

Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

D-O-G-M-A, Templates for a Divided World

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

Today, the recently revised version of a poem that last appeared on the blog in 2014. To those readers who have kindly asked when the new collection will be ready, I had forgotten how much hard work is involved and have several health issues to contend with at the moment (no Covid-19 though) so am aiming for publication around mid-late September.

Now, integration is the key to a successful society so why are there so many ghettos and pockets of people from around the world determined to follow a policy of separatism wherever they settle? Here in the UK, I have expressed the view for many years that Faith Schools, for example, have a lot to answer for in this respect. Dogma of any kind is fine, just so long as it allows for  - rather than discriminates against - anyone's human right to agree to differ; if others can be persuaded, fair enough, but forms of indoctrination by way of suggesting that any alternative is sacrilegious (or worse) are tantamount to threats, and beneath contempt.

Children and young people are the citizens of tomorrow. How can they, as adults, be expected to properly integrate when so many have been encouraged to feel they have the moral high ground over those of other faiths (or none at all)?

2014 marked the 100^th anniversary of the start of World War 1, the war that was supposed to end all wars…

How much more fighting and suffering will it take, I wonder, for more of our so-called ‘betters’ across the world to understand that various socio-cultural-religious differences do not make us different, only human?

United, the human race may have a chance of surviving its Armageddon; divided, it stands little if any at all.  Common sense, you say? So whatever happened to common sense?

May more  socio-cultural-religious (and political) leader)s take note, be seen to emerge from their various boxes and rise above their rhetoric...while  the rest of us follow a basic instinct for common sense in doing our best to heal divisions within our communities... as (surely?) only to be expected of and deserving a common humanity.

World religions have as much if not more to answer for than the vagaries of world politics; both profess to promote peace and a common humanity ... while the divisions they create in the process across that same humanity are  as unsubtle any suggestions that we apply a sledgehammer to crack a nut.

Everyone is entitled to their own personal space and human nature is a diverse entity as a result. Why, oh, why can't more people  accept that, and agree to differ instead of letting loose poison various slings and arrows of antagonism and discontent...? We are all, each and every one of us, part of a common humanity, after all.

This poem is a villanelle.  

D-O-G-M-A, TEMPLATES FOR A DIVIDED WORLD

Unsubtle divisions,

tablets of stone;

our world religions

Dark contradictions

(sure conviction)

unsubtle divisions

Unholy conditions

(dogs at a bone);

our world religions

Fine godly lessons

few clerics learn;

unsubtle divisions

Posturing politicians

(daughter, son);

our world religions

Holy constitutions,

bloodily written;

unsubtle divisions,

our world religions

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared under the title 'Divided We Fall' in an anthology, Have Your Say, Poetry Now (Forward Press) 2004 and subsequently in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Out of Africa OR P-r-e-j-u-d-i-c-e-s, Weapons of Mass Destruction

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

Feedback suggests that a number of new readers have been visiting both poetry blogs since the coronavirus, COVID -19, began to spread around the world, forcing many of us to stay at home and find new ways of distracting ourselves from the harsh realities evolving all around us. One reader writes: "Homosexuality is a sin, and trying to pretend otherwise simply because the cap happens to fit you, is nothing short of pathetic ..." Another reader writes, “The coronavirus is also a pandemic, right? Only there is nothing new about it.” Yours truly can but echo the latter comment, arguing - as regular readers are well aware - that our differences do not make us different, only human. RNT

Now, there will always be those opposed to change, especially where certain aspects of socio-cultural-religious dogma are concerned. Thankfully, though, common humanity (and science) invariably gets the better of them or civilisation as we know it (or think we do) would never have developed, albeit it still has a way to go ...

Today’s poem is not new to either blog, but one I have been asked to repeat (after some revision) by several gay-friendly as well as gay readers from various African (and other) countries; to those readers who email me from time to time, asking why I feel any need to support gay people in what someone recently referred to as 'this Golden Age of Equality', it perhaps offers an answer. Sadly, even well-meaning legislation (and religion) can only go so far in tempering that too-common element of human nature called bigotry. (I am gay, yes, but ask any woman or victim of racial abuse about this Golden age of Equality...!)

As I have said many times on my poetry blogs - in both poems and preambles - a minority of readers who get in touch from time to time in support of the vilification of LGBT people will just have to get used to the fact that we are all part of a common humanity

Evangelical pastors preaching homophobia and worse across the world - not least, much of Africa - have to be among the worst diehards. They have much to answer for, and bear no small responsibility for anti-gay legislation in many countries; such is their influence that a newspaper editor in Uganda once called for the deaths of known gay people.

 David Kato (photo from the Internet)

  

Eric Lembembe (photo from the Internet)

David Kato (Uganda) and Eric Lembembe (Cameroon) - both gay activists - were murdered in January 2011 and July 2013 respectively; the number of gay-related killings across Africa is likely to be much higher.

But there is hope for us all yet. Evangelical leader and author Jen Hatmaker publicly changed her views on gay marriage in 2016. Both a Facebook entry calling for LGBT acceptance and comments about supporting same-sex marriage in an interview led Life Way Christian Stores to quit selling her books.

 “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”- Martin Luther King

“Hypocrisy and distortion are passing currents under the name of religion.” – Mahatma Gandhi]

"The death of dogma is the birth of morality." - Immanuel Kant

"From the beginning men used God to justify the unjustifiable." - Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses

“I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.” - James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time

“Animals don't hate, and we're supposed to be better than them.” - Elvis Presley

OUT OF AFRICA or P-R-E-J-U-D-I-C-E, WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION 

'Kill the homosexuals!’

a local pastor cried;

and true to his words,

many gay men and women

have since died

"Homosexuals are sinners!’

the impassioned pastor yelled

at a congregation

that took up the cry, would

see us killed

"Homosexuality is an evil!"

the demon pastor screamed,

‘and no known cure

so kill it, and let its sinning

be redeemed

‘Man shall with woman lie!’

The pastor furiously exhorted

his flock to heed verses

from Leviticus, Christ’s coming

conveniently aborted

Someone in the congregation

dared point out that Christ said

we should love

and help our neighbours, not

wish them dead

‘Blasphemer!” the pastor cried,

near hysterical, refusing to relent

on a demonising

of homosexuality undermining

the New Testament

Africa, why are you (or is anyone)

even listening…?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2020

[Note: This poem first appears under the title ‘Out of Africa’ in the 7^th and (so far) last of my mixed general/ gay-interest collections, Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012; it was inspired by a Channel 4 ‘Despatches’ program, Africa, the Last Taboo, 2010, and is also repeated on my gay-interest poetry blog today.]