Your Sunday Poem

A friend vacationing in Ireland, sent an email saying. in part, that she was staying in "Magherafelt (Machaire Fiolta = The Plain of Fiolta) originally Teach Fiolta (The Monastic House of Fiolta). The guest house, Laurel Villa, was built in 1870 for Doctor Murdoch.  On his gravestone in the Church of Ireland graveyard opposite his tombstone reads, "was called away from a life of usefulness in Magherafelt in 1882." Which, you must admit, is a pretty swell epitaph for any of us.

Anyway, she was staying in the Longley Room.  Dedicated to the Ulster poet Michael Longley, born Belfast 1939 and now "reading" Classicas at Trinity College in Dublin.  I am unfamiliar with his work, but here's a wonderful poem of his (and her added footnote) which she sent along to share.

The Lifeboat 
I  have imagined an ideal death in Charlie Gaffney's
pub in Louisburgh: he pulls the pluperfect pint
As I, at the end of the bar next to the charity boxes,
Expire on my stool, head in hand, without a murmur.

I have just helped him solve his crossword puzzle
And we commune with ancestral photos in the alcove
He doesn't notice that I am dead until closing time
And he sweeps around my feet
     But it's Charlie Gaffney
Who has died, how do I buy a fishing license?
Shall I let the dog out? Would the fire take another sod?
The pub might as well be empty forever now.  I launch
The toy lifeboat at my elbow with an old penny.


(The toy lifeboat is on every counter; a fundraiser for the National lifeboat Association, a volunteer organization. Sod is peat, a traditional fuel harvested and dried from the peat bogs.)  

DOMA Dust

Calhoun's Cannons for June 27, 2013

Well, there's no mistake, now.  The Supreme Court, that ideologically muddled hot mess, has made it vaguely clear, sort of, that when it comes to marriage, gay people are finally semi-full citizens, maybe.  At least in California and several other states, they can get married, just like regular folk.  And with the fall of DOMA, that politically motivated piece of cynical, shameful expediency, federal laws will now treat them like their married straight brethren. 

But being full citizens will have to wait until the Supreme Court finds the courage to apply the motto above its front door --equal justice under law --and/or Congress stops dicking around and  passes ENDA, among other laws that will at least give gay folks some federal civil protections in the workplace.  Without those measures, full civil rights for gay people will have to wait until the Court weighs in again and again on more un-civil state laws, a grindingly slow legal version of Chinese water torture that eventually ensures that the arc of history bends to equal justice under law.

But even quasi-equality is bringing with it delicious muddlement -- How to sort out the practical, day to day changes needed to ensure equality of marriage.  And if the devil is always in the details, it's the details themselves -- all those little things one never thinks of -- that offer a fascinating glimpse into just how many and how far-reaching are the presumptions, assumptions, accommodations and benefits behind the word "married."  And just how much of their "civil rights" straight married people have taken for granted. 

Meantime, the country finds itself once again divided into free states, where gay citizens have full rights and social acceptance, and decidedly un-free states, where gay citizens better head for the state line before the sun goes down. It's all a creepy rerun of the civil rights battles of the 1960's.  Which is both hopeful and dispiriting, because once again we have to face the same slow social slog to a more perfect union, with no guarantee that real parity will ever be achieved.  Bigotry has deep, deep roots and religion-fueled bigotry goes deeper still. So, we will have to wait generations for most of the poison to abate.

But, in California, at least, gay folks can once again head for the altar.  Yes, yes, I know, this is proof positive that the state is surely doomed and damned.  But California has always been sliding into the sinful sea, a condition that's been its original fatal attraction to so many straight arrow Baptists from Butte heading west for the street of broken dreams or maybe a movie contract.   

So, bring money, boys and boys and girls and girls and boys and girls. The wedding industry is gearing up for a blow-out, and the state's economic recovery needs a shot in the arm, complete with balloons, confetti and rice. Mazel tov!  

Life, Redux

The Great Mother Mallow

   

The Mother Mallow after the heavy rains came.

Starting over:  The Mother Mallow's cutting.

Mother Mallow II, 2013

 

And her triplets.

And who says, given a chance, life will not renew itself?

Silently a flower blooms,
  In silence it falls away; 
Yet here now, at this moment, at this place,
  The world of the flower, the whole of 
  the world is blooming. 
This is the talk of the flower, the truth
  of the blossom: 
The glory of eternal life is fully shinning here. 
                               Zenkei Shibayma

Aural Assault

Look!  Up in the sky!  It's a bird?  It's a plane?  No, it's SuperDooper KerFlooey Man!

It's Rococo Man! (If one is good, 79 are better!)  It's Kettle Drum Man! Bring on Hans Zimmer screaming , "Ach tung! You VILL listen to my music! MORE LOUDER!" until the audience is crouched under their seats, fingers in their ears.

It's Demolition Man!  See Superman fly through buildings! Again and again and again and again.  It's Building Crumble Man! See buildings crumble and fall!  Want to see that again?  You got it!  How's about buildings crumbling and falling and .  .. disintegrating!  Want more of that?  Sure, here 68 more!

It's Bring on the Earth Disintegrator Ray! No, bring on TWO Disentegrator Rays! More Rays! More Rays! Who's got the cow bell?

It's "Man of Steel," an interesting, often touching take on Kal-El's  origins, a sweet story of young Clark Kent's coming of age and his search for his place on earth that was mercilessly hijacked, not by Kent's nemesis, General Zod, but by Blockbuster Movie Makers who only know how to appeal to 14 year-old BoyFans who are addicted to obsessively repetitive masturbatory CGI effects and endless, ridiculous Ka-pow! fist-fights, MORE! MORE! Faster! Faster!

Until the audience is bludgeoned into exhaustion, whimpering at the screen, "I can't take any more of this," while Hans shreiks, "MORE LOUD! MORE LOUD, jah?"

For 2 1/2 hours.

Oh, the humanity!

A Thought for Sunday

This by the always sly and witty, Rumi, is from "Love Poems from God; Twelve Sacred Voices from the East and West, " translated by Daniel Ladinsky.

                           Spiritual Health

A good gauge of spiritual health is to write down
           the three things you most want.
                If they in any way differ,
                      you are in trouble.