Mind Gardens: 2005

Two Desperadoes

I don’t like pretense and posturing when
I encounter them in others, and when
I sense even a mere hint of either in myself,
I reject them quickly, like swatting away a
venomous insect before it can poison my system.

These two interlopers seem diametrically
opposed to what we most naturally seek,
which I believe is an authentic, honest Self.

Still, I remember the awkward adolescent days
when pretense and posturing often served as
temporary pseudo-Selves useful for trying on
different personalities in the sometimes very unsettling
search for identity. These desperadoes were useful,
especially when one’s Self felt like some kind of elusive,
wispy character playing now-you-see-me, now-you-don’t
head games on a hormone-rattled, stressed out teenager.

It was a relief when I no longer found them useful.

Copyright © 2005 Robert D. McKinley All rights reserved.

Some Goodbyes Are Hard To Do

Some goodbyes are hard to do.
Some are easy — even sought.
My hardest was losing you
and the awful pain it brought.

It has been a very long goodbye,
nor is it almost over yet.
As, you see, I still ask why
in fear I shall too soon forget.

This sad house is not a home
since you left and took your
noises and your scents to be alone
with your promise of evermore.

It is such an unkind building now,
for you still call from hollow rooms
so clearly, if asked, I would vow
I’ll surely see you here again, soon!

Copyright © 2005 Robert D. McKinley
All rights reserved.

John Offenbacher

John Ofenbacher

played soccer

everyday he could

in his childhood.

Didn't do much else at all

but kick a ball.

Until he met a girl

Named Shirl.

That changed everything,

even made him sing.

He didn't do it well

but he couldn't tell

and Shirl didn't care.

She liked his hair.

They got hitched

and now they're rich

with a little boy Ofenbacher

who plays soccer.

That's all.

I get it.

This piece came to me via a multi-recipient email a few years ago. It had no author’s name attached to it, though of course someone or more than one person wrote it. I did some edits on it, made some revisions, and added to it.

If you pay attention there will come a time in your life when you finally get it, when in the midst of all your fears and insanity you stop dead in your tracks because you hear a voice inside your head cry out — ENOUGH! Or, it just may sneak up on you, tapping away at your mind until you finally stop and listen to the message — ENOUGH!

Enough fighting or moaning or struggling to make some final breakthrough, some clear sharp feel-good, catchall answer to the Great Mystery of Your Life. Like a child quieting down after a blind tantrum, your moans begin to subside, you shudder once or twice, and as though with bleeding bare feet, you have just crunched your way over a field of brittle old complaints, you arrive at the edge of a beautiful open valley. You begin to look at the world through new eyes. This is your awakening. You realize that it's time to stop hoping and waiting for something to change, or for happiness, safety, and security to come galloping over the next horizon. You come to terms with the fact that he is not Prince Charming and you are not Cinderella or that she is not the cheerleader you drooled over in high school and you are not God’s gift to women! In that moment, you understand that in the real world there aren't always fairy tale endings (or beginnings for that matter) and that any "happily ever after" guarantees must begin with you and, in the process, a sense of serenity is born of acceptance. You are beginning to get it!

You awaken to the fact that you are not perfect and that not everyone will always love, appreciate or approve of who you are, and that that is OKAY! You learn the importance of caring for and championing yourself and in the process self-approval gives birth to a sense of newfound confidence. You stop complaining and blaming others for the things they did to you (or didn't do for you) and you learn that the only thing you can really count on is change and the unexpected. You learn that people don't always say what they mean or mean what they say, that not everyone will always be there for you, and that it's not always about you. So you learn to stand on your own and to take care of yourself and in the process a sense of safety & security is born of self-reliance.

Then, low and behold, other unheard-of miracles begin to happen. You stop judging and pointing fingers. You begin to accept people as they are and to overlook their shortcomings and human frailties and another birth takes place; a sense of peace & contentment is born of forgiveness. You realize that much of the way you view yourself and the world is a result of the messages and opinions that have been ingrained into your psyche over the years by others. You begin to sift through all the horse-hockey you've been fed about how you should behave, how you should look, what you should weigh, what you should wear, where you should shop, what you should drive, how and where you should live, what you should do for a living, who you should sleep with, who you should marry, what you should expect of a marriage, the importance of having and raising children — and whatever else others think you should do or think or feel. You learn to open up to new worlds and different points of view. You begin reassessing and redefining who you are, what you really stand for. You learn the difference between wanting and needing. You begin to discard the doctrines and values you've outgrown or should never have bought into to begin with, and you learn to go with your instincts.

You learn that it is in giving that we receive. You sense the self-fulfilling power of creating and contributing. You stop merely existing as a "consumer" looking for your next fix. You learn that principles such as honesty and integrity are not outdated ideals of a bygone era but are the mortar that holds together the foundation upon which you can build a good life. You understand, cherish, and nourish good friendships. You begin to practice tolerance and acceptance with the undeniable knowledge that you have truly never walked in their shoes and that to judge another says far more about you than them. You decide to not ever form an opinion about another simply because someone else has told you "all about" them. Instead, you realize that you are merely hearing one person’s self-serving words at the expense of another whom you really do not know at all. In the doing of these things, another wonderful thing happens: Your opinion of yourself improves dramatically: You begin to like yourself more. It feels good.

You learn that you don't know everything, it's not your job to save the entire world and that you can't teach a pig to sing (I’m not sure about that one). You learn to distinguish between guilt and responsibility, the importance of setting boundaries, and learning when to say YES and when to say NO. You learn that the only cross to bear is the one YOU choose to carry — and that martyrs get burned at the stake.

Finally, you learn about love — what love is and is not. You learn that love really is about caring and giving and expecting NOTHING in return. You learn that love is a verb, that it is active and alive and dynamic. You learn that learning about love is not easy and you decide to learn about it, anyway. You learn that loving and liking are not the same thing— that you can actually love someone you don’t like. Yet as hard as it is to learn about love, the process is made easier by its inadvertent by-product— that of loving and liking yourself more.

You learn not to project neediness or irrational feelings onto another person or into a relationship. You learn that you will not be more beautiful, more intelligent, more lovable or important because of the man or woman on your arm or the child you have had. You learn to look at relationships as they really are and not as you would have them be. You stop trying to control people, situations, and outcomes. Instead, you learn to put into practice the new things you have learned. You learn that just as you and others grow and change, so it is with love. You learn that you don't have the right to demand love solely on your terms — just to make you happy. You learn that alone does not mean lonely. You look in the mirror and make peace with the fact that you will never be a size 5 or a perfect 10 or Arnold S. You stop trying to compete with that alien image inside your head, agonizing over how you "stack up."

You come to know that you deserve to be treated with love, kindness, and respect. You are now treating yourself and others that way and you will not accept less from anyone. You get it.

mind stretches

there's a place beyond which

i cannot go where

mind stretches taut,

to Know ...

to pierce the God walls

that entomb the Truth,

the Answer …

or something

more important

and final

celestial mental minders cling to

my thoughts like jealous cats

guarding secret mouse lairs

locking, blocking, stopping

Thought Processes,

forbidding entry to the Fruit

of Final Knowledge on penalty

of ...

something more is intuited

without the thinnest edge

of reason to justify pursuit

nothing cannot exist

sayeth the little mind of man

to its Self in its dream -

or His, or Hers, or theirs, or ...

there is no sense to this

only nagging, fleeting innuendo

teasing my highest faculties,

taunting me to follow, to wonder,

to ponder, to surrender to

... nothing

where nothing lives or dies,

or laughs or cries

wrecked on deadly shoals

off sealess shores

I scratch futilely

on the immutable wall-face

of Forbidden Knowledge

to gain entry,

which never comes

where are the Gods they speak of

when our fears reassemble

our eternal atoms into adversarial

random patterns of chaos?

the illusions of well being

evaporate for one terrifying

moment of truth

and we see ...

if there's a hell, said daddy,

this is it

and at least that's

... something

if it is

but who's got that proof

no one has it

hell or not

not allowed are we

to know anything

... important

Sweet Mary

Sweet Mary had a madman for a boyfriend.

He was crazy like in nuts, mean like in dangerous.

Mary loved him.

Mary was sweet and gentle and soft of voice.

Donald, her boyfriend, was coarse, crude, loud, and evil.

Mary was not naïve.

Dangerous Donald viciously attacked innocent people

and took whatever he wanted from them.

Mary knew.

Donald, night or day, mugged tired, weak old ladies.

He spent their money on booze, drugs, and other women.

Mary thought she could change him.

Dangerous Donny went home to Sweet Mary most days.

To eat, he went, and to sleep. He was less than a creep.

Mary fed him and slept him.

Mary and Donald were young and getting old fast.

Mary had a sense of time. Donald never thought about it.

Mary knew it might run out.

Drugged up Dangerous Donald came home one soft night

and bludgeoned Sweet Mary to death as she slept.

Mary would not have been surprised.

Rite of Passage

It’s hard to love well, again.
Brittle bones of loves lost
litter fields of sorrow,
commanding the heart’s vision,
stifling the souls voice.
With painful consistency
their sad refrains whisper
through restless, endless nights,
reminders of what is no more
and give that awful power
to the emptiness that’s left.
Indifference sought becomes a
prayer of hope for … deliverance.
Oh that with time and effort
and the grace of Happy Gods,
this battered spirit may
reassert its will to life—and
join its Rite of Passage
among the living humans being.

Copyright © 2005 Robert D. McKinley
All rights reserved.

Make Love To Life

Live lightly with the wind and sun
and the seasons of the earth.
Move softly with the thoughts of life,
the sense of life, the landscapes of life.
Make love to life when love needs a place
to be and see what you have done there.
Steady and straight toward the truth of life
is the way, dear friend. There is no other
path is so honored. When Survival begs
your Soul to hear its Song of Death, trust
that which speaks from within your Heart.
Abide within the house of Love and travel
on the road of Wonder else you miss the
landmarks of your journey, the promise of
your life—whilst you walk among the dead
and dying, blind and dumb to the wondrous
light outside your inner night. Listen closely
to your primal memories, to the lessons of
the ages, the wisdom of the sages. Make love
to life when love needs a place to be
and see what you have done there.

Copyright © 2005 Robert D. McKinley
All rights reserved.

The Silence

The Silence moves through a boundless sea of manifest energy, its inexorable principle proceeds unfettered always and forever beyond comprehension to be seen by those who see without eyes, hear without ears, touch without hands. It is here, there, outside, inside, nowhere, everywhere. We are in it and of it.

The Silence is without measure. Its reach is beyond all, its grasp complete. Its emptiness is full, its silent voice compelling as it whispers through creation like an omnipresent cantor informing the eternities wherein Gods share Forever stories and shape new worlds from ageless cosmic Stuff!

Listen to it! Be quiet and listen! Be still and You shall hear Your voice among the voices of the Gods. You shall hear the startling, glorious music of the Universe—the eternal One Song. With the Gods, You shall joyously dance the Dance of Eternal Life ... Danse de la vie éternelle.

You shall witness the ineffable Force as you voyage through the infinite dimensions of the Process! Be still and know. Be fastened in Your moment of Truth and know the glory of Your completeness, Your oneness, Your was, is, and shall-be-ness.

Oh, listen, my Dear One, please listen. Without ears to hear nor eyes to see, nor any senses five of Yours, You shall attend the School of Knowledge, of All There Is, Was and Shall Be. Listen to the Silence wherein All shall be proclaimed to You.

Discover Your Self among the rest with which you are One. Listen without listening and all things shall come to You as You wish, in the order of Your wishes. You shall dream the dreams of Gods, witness Their schemes and know the Truth which shall set you free! You shall Create as They created You.

Just be perfectly still ... My Dearest One.

The Oddest Thing Of All

What to make of this
thing we call Life?
Some offer answers from
the Book they say is “God’s”
while others assert and insist
it’s all a matter of random odds.
Perhaps we’re in a dream not ours—
but of the One Complete.
Yet if this be so, I wonder
more at His troubled sleep.
The oddest thing of all is that
I find it odd at all, absent
a memory of ... what?
Another life?
If this is all I’ve known,
what other world could I divine?
What mad notion compels me to
entertain something more sublime?
Then too, perhaps the dream is mine alone
to write and play as I may choose,
with schemes and scenes and lesser
dreams for others to consider thus.
If that, then have I the Gods designed?
Is my self-deception so complete?
Is such genius stuff in me so devised
to lay great Mysteries at my own feet?

Copyright © 2005 Robert D. McKinley
All rights reserved.

Willie’s Perfect Dive

It was a beautiful night in June

and the Angels were in tune

when Willie went off the bridge

after leaving his wife and kids.

It’s not a new story, you’ve heard it before.

Still, let me tell you some more.

What drove him to commit such an act?

I’ll try to separate fiction from fact.

He had tried very hard to succeed in life

yet his efforts seemed to bring only strife.

A good woman, his wife, of that he was sure

but there were things he could no longer see her endure.

So he left. What else could he do?

He hoped she could start life anew.

Willie had wanted to do at least one important thing right

but he failed so often he had lost all his fight.

Now, it seemed, it was the end of the line

and, at first, he sought solace in a bottle of wine.

But his hopes went down with each swig he drank

and he kept having visions of walking a plank!

His mood got worse and his suffering got deeper

til’ finally he decided it was time for the Reaper.

By now, there’s no doubt, his thoughts weren’t too clear

and the juice in the bottle had dispelled all his fear.

So, Willie decided it was time to let go

not understanding he was his own worst foe.

But, he thought, “How do I do it, it’s all new to me.

shouldn’t it be easy to set oneself free?”

Willie pondered on this for a good space of time.

How does one go about a Reaper to find?

What should I say when I finally meet him?

There must be some rules about how to greet him!

It troubled him greatly not to know these things.

Was this knowledge reserved for Princes and Kings?

Why have I not been taught all this stuff?

Is it because I am not important enough?

Ah well, he thought, “What can I do?

If I do it all wrong, who’s gonna sue?

I’ll play it by ear, I’ll learn as I go.

Anyway, other than Him, who’s gonna know?”

So, with firmness of mind, he concluded his pact;

he was determined to make it a first class act!

For once in his life he was going to succeed;

he would make this history’s best-ever last deed!

As he walked, he envisioned himself at the edge;

with courage and grace he’d make good his last pledge!

His last act on Earth would be perfect and bold,

a thing of great beauty, a thing to behold!

And, then … he was there, on the edge of the steel.

It was all quite exciting and so intensely real.

He felt more alive than ever before!

He felt like a God in mythical lore!

He paused for a moment to feel his new might.

At last he was going to do something right!

He savored the moment, gazed up at the stars

absent the notion that this was bizarre!

And then he was off—out into the air,

both subject and watcher–a selfish voyeur!

He spread his arms wide like an eagle in flight,

back arched, legs together—straight and tight.

His face was radiant with a smile of great joy,

his emotions surpassed even those as a boy!

My God, he thought, “I’ve never felt so alive!

Last long, last long, you beautiful dive!”

Of course gravity had it’s own thing in mind

and his fall was measured precisely in time.

Still, his style was perfect. His angle just right

and the splash from his entry was ever so slight.

The water felt good, he felt a rush in its grasp.

It was cool and refreshing, a perfect end to his task.

Because of his entry, so smooth and so sleek,

he slipped through the water, descending quite deep.

But his arch, so perfect, so tuned to the act,

soon turned him upward ‘til, alas …. he was back

at the surface, still smiling, alive and quite well,

thinking, “Dear God, do I have a story to tell!”

Well, life can be fickle and succeed he did not,

at least in the sense of his self-devised plot.

So what, you may ask, is the rest of this story?

Well, it’s all about Willie’s ultimate glory.

You see, Willie’s intentions were not as they seemed.

The pay-off he got wasn’t part of his scheme.

At least that’s what he thought in his desperate mind.

Yet, what he got was exactly what he set out to find.

You see, he got what he wanted so much in his heart;

he got a new Willie and he got a new start.

A new beginning was Willie so desperately seeking.

He really wasn’t ready for the Great Final Reaping

and in one powerful, beautiful, great single act

Willie was able to keep his own pact,

to do something big and to do it just right.

It was just what he needed; he was back in the fight!

He had never felt better and he had a new life!

So, with dignity and pride, he went back to his wife.

Haiku Two

Haiku One

The Humor Of The Gods

Laugh heartily at the humor of the Gods
Who built the stage and wrote the scripts
and cast the plays of Life in which
we play our self-important parts.
Smile broadly at the Irony they made for us to see.
Grin oddly at the mystery hidden from our view
and wonder at their motives—of which we have no clue.
Scream loudly at the horror of the wars we're made to fight,
at the cosmic ghouls that sometimes cackle in the night,
at the dimness of our sight and the fullness of our fright.
Then quietly, softly, deeply … weep for us all.

Copyright © 2005 Robert D. McKinley
All rights reserved.

Beauty is …

Beauty is where Beauty sees
a Rainbow in a Storm
or children see through eyes
of wonder the waves upon a shore,
or marvel at the drops of rain
upon a magic windowpane.

It's not the rainbow or the waves,
or the windowpane, or rain that
hold the beauty there—nor our senses
that contrive these things alone.
It's a union in our hearts with all,
so there the Onesong does enthrall.

Thus, dear one, with thoughts of you
my heart sees beauty everywhere.
Those places last seen in the dark
are now seen new in joyous light.
So you see dear Isabella,
just being you, has with love,
made all beauty true.

Hound Dog

Have you ever heard a hound dog bark?
It’s a lark to hear! It sounds like
it’s putting you on, or its ancestors
caught a cold on the Ark!
But it is quite serious, you know,
and while doing their nose-work,
they put on a marvelous show.

Copyright © 2005 Robert D. McKinley
All rights reserved.

Mind Gardens

A Child Born Pure

A child born pure and wise
‘til adults, determined, would revise.
Themselves victims of those before,
they set about to create one more.

Their infant memories less than scant
with good intentions spewed their cant.
What else could they have done
not knowing that we are one?

Separate, apart, survive or die,
their argument to support the lie!
Oh, some know the truth, I must confess;
curiosities they are, among the rest.

Yet most, a singular vision share;
get through the day, from here to there,
to survive, stay alive—the common goal,
avoiding questions that confront the soul.

Still, could theirs not be the natural state,
at which we and others may arrive late—
another scheme, a greater theme,
than those, thus far, we can glean?

Ah well, as Don Quixote once did spin:
“The road is better than the Inn”
and so it is for me. Roads twist, turn,
rise, fall, divide, converge, and I yearn
for more, seeking the roads of life,
the dance of life … the mystery of life …
the joy of life!

So it is for me …

Copyright © 2005 Robert D. McKinley
All rights reserved.