Trees … and Phone-Trees

I’ve been a little too serious lately… so hopefully this is more fun!

One of my favorite poems was published in 1914 by Joyce Kilmer:

Trees
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

My comedic version:

Phone-Trees
I think that I should never hear
A poem lovely as, operator here.

A phone-tree hungry time consume
Against our lives it doeth presume;

A phone-tree that takes us all day
To find the right end we will pray;

The phone-tree may impatient wear
On thee, and cause radical loss of hair;

Upon our bosom a telephone is lain
As we wait on hold for something lame.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only Insurance companies
….. can make a damn phone-tree.

Thomas Mann… on democracy

A work called “The Coming Victory for Democracy” by Thomas Mann was written in 1938.  I’ve found it fascinating.  Some excerpts that seemed very applicable to our times and our challenges are captured here.  Mann’s premise at the time was that for democracy to win over the coming conflict with fascism, it would require democratic peoples to understand, know and properly reflect on the higher values of democratic principles.  I believe we need to re-examine our commitment to democracy and remember always that its future survival is not guaranteed.

Thomas Mann… (parenthetical material is my editorial comment)

Democracy is friendly to intellectual thought, to arts, to literature (and free press).  Distinguishing itself from dictatorship, which because of its belief in force is thereby obliged to be remote, foreign, and hostile to intellectual pursuits. But this assertion only acquires real value as a definition of democracy if the concept of intellectual life is not understood as one-sided, isolated, abstract, superior to life and remote from it, but is characterized as closely related to life, as directed toward life and action — for only that and specifically that is the democratic spirit.  That is the spirit of democracy. “Democracy is not intellectual in an old and outworn sense. Democracy is thought; but it is thought related to life and action.

… In a democracy which does not respect the intellectual life and is not guided by it, demagogy has free play, and the level of national life is depressed to that of the ignorant and uncultivated.  But this cannot happen if the principle of education is allowed to dominate and the tendencies prevail to raise the lower classes (here, in our times we’d refer to the social-economic challenged)  to an appreciation of culture and to accept the leadership of the better elements.

… They consider fascism a protective bulwark which will save them from the real, the Russian, proletarian bolshevism and from socialism in general (today, we need to avoid thinking of authoritarianism as a false choice against progressive policies)

… Now, as life is constituted, truth depends to some extent on the man who speaks it.  From certain sources even the truth becomes a lie.  There is no doubt, among the variations and the emotionally intelligible modifications of the idea — truth, freedom, justice– it is what we call justice that is closest to the conscience and the heart of humanity today.

https://ia601601.us.archive.org/4/items/in.ernet.dli.2015.221831/2015.221831.The-Coming.pdf

 

Embrace Gray

I’ve been thinking about the complexity of the world, about business issues I’ve been involved in, about relationships, and about how we experience all of it. Increasingly this is good, that is bad, or more imminently it seems, it is THEY are good and THEY are bad. In business I see decisions being made based on limited analysis. In politics I see decisions made based on abstract ideas with no grounding in life’s realities. Thomas Mann in his encouragement to the defense of democracy, warned against “pure abstraction”, and “the complete isolation of the mind from life itself” … because it allows us to see the world as black and white, right and wrong, and ignore the complexity of life. He also worried about our susceptibility to “the charm of novelty” … Grabbing on to the latest new idea without understanding the implications, and most importantly the unintended consequences. New is not bad, nor is it good, new is just new, something to be understood, and folded into the complexity of the real world.
Some are even proud of seeing the world in stark terms; black/white, good/bad, with-me/ against-me. As if ignoring the complexities of business, politics, of life is something meritorious. I believe that exploring complexity allows us to see in those gray areas as opportunity. Goodness hiding in the margin of sunrise, and sunset, when the colors shine, it is not day or night, it’s that gray-time in between. We are not wholly good or bad, but we are all gray. Business or politics is not win or lose, its compromise for a purpose. Computers can see through the RGB model 256 shades of gray… why can’t we see some ourselves? Complexity exists, and must be seen and embraced in order to be mastered. Education, and principled hope leads to wisdom and understanding, and advancement.
I think mothers know this better than fathers. They know that nurturing is always a case of operating in the gray zone. Finding the potential in a malcontent, in someone that is resisting learning, resisting change, when they are changing the most. Those that claim the high ground of right and wrong and black and white, are only doing so to bludgeon to death the gray and its inherent beauty in their own lives. Embrace complexity, embrace conflicting information, evaluate and then decide and promote, and grow, and learn even more. Then when you understand, it is possible to communicate a position clearly.

The Thomas Mann quotes were from an article by Nadia Schadlow in the WSJ, titled Thomas Mann’s Message for America in the Digital Age.

Thomas Mann won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1929.
A quote attributed to him: War is only a cowardly escape from the problems of peace.

Soreness

 

Soreness

I woke this morning with numbness in my fingers
That came from my shoulder’s arthritic stingers
It is by the stretch of something that shouldn’t
Stretch beyond what I thought I couldn’t
And so, I’m proud of this, this precious sore
For it is work to strengthen to the core
This body that I let go to waste and age
When it need not be the end nor last page
That was written when I had the busy excuse
And I told myself, my mind was only thing of use

January’s Soul

We are changing the climate, we lack empathy for our world, our future, each other, we are sure to make our mother’s weep and our Mother Earth’s tears will either bring us back or not…

For January’s Soul

Yesterday a moist breeze of summer
Interrupted winter’s hold as an affront
To coolness, to dry, to what we expect
Of January’s soul
And although we lean from the sun
It warms us still
As if a mother’s love is endless
And no matter how
We stray we are brought back
To summer by the warm
Moist breeze of tears
For the cold of January’s soul

Before the Internet… we had the Yellow Pages

Ode to the Yellow Pages

You will never see, I believe
Something as artfully industrious
And hopeful as pages like these

To work all through the year
Gathering from all who sell product
And services from far and near

Putting it altogether, the offers
The artistry, locations, phone
Numbers of all good proffers

This busy, well done deed
Organized by categories you
Know and should want or need

Believing value will be shown
Proprietors and sellers in faith
Buy their presence to be known

Today these pages are seldom perused
As internet search is all the rage
And books are evermore rarely used

These pieces of yesterday’s industrious art
That raised young boy’s bottoms
And ensured success for excursions before depart

Will now depart the Americana stage
Without nary a bow or applause
For all their fame came in a forgotten age!

Let your fingers do the walking…

Merry Christmas

Christmas Love

Ah this morning with smiles bright
The tree and gifts arranged just right
With child-like joy our hearts leap
As we brush aside our morning sleep
To find our way around the tree
Somewhat shy about what we’ll see
And hug and hold greetings as we hum
Christmas songs as if we were alum
Of another time and place in our minds
For the child within us, remembers those rhymes
And after all isn’t that what it’s all about
Regardless the gifts we shall gush about
So that our appreciation is shown
And our love for each other known
For the gift is not the present
It is all the love they represent

A Collection of Christmas Poems…

Christmas Imagined

It is the spirit, it is love and care
That joy of Christmas we can share

For a moment a world perfect
Free from discord and defect

Placed in winter clarity of white
Snow as a blanket of beauty right

Colored lights, gifts, decorations red and green
Borrowed from ancients, this spirit of evergreen

A perfect setting for redeeming ourselves
For believing in each other and Santa’s elves

For knowing Angel’s get their wings
When hearts sing and the bell rings

And a child’s birth allows the world to cope
As the child in us smiles with wonder and hope

Everyone regardless of their belief can openly share
Our Christmas miracle, by opening hearts of loving care


Christmas Throughout the Year

I know a happy soul that always whistles a Christmas tune
He whistles just as happily regardless if its December or June

For him Christmas joy is not for a certain time of year
Rather it is an everyday spirit through his whistle we hear

If only Christmas was all the time
Then love and peace would forever shine

It’s not the decorations, the presents under the tree
But our time with friends and family we love to see

If only Christmas was all throughout the year
Then children would never know a single tear

It’s not the stores, the elves and Santa we need
We need the joy and spirit of God’s grace indeed

If only Christmas’ perfect meaning was clear
In our hearts, it must live throughout the year

And if you get a chance, especially in June
I hope you’ll whistle your own joyous Christmas tune!


Christmas Over the Years

Excited I stand there at seven
Tree, lights, toys, it must be heaven

Smiles of wonderment and joy
Anxious to play with a new toy

Soon it’s Christmas morning again
Anxious at twenty-five this man

Will the girls enjoy and be pleased?
Will my wife’s gift be well received?

Waffle maker surprise was not a hit
But the girls brought out smiles, every bit

Then soon its grand-babies Christmas time
Happy faces and smiles, I love this time

I’ll make breakfast and smile, knowing
At fifty-five my gifts are no longer blowing

And Grandma makes sure all is joyous and fine
Maybe, just maybe I’ll make waffles this time!


Christmas Morning

Christmas morning quiet and slow
The clock ticks softly on the mantel
Santa’s work in stockings hang just below

In this hour of quiet solitude of thought
About meanings of His promised peace
So more important than gifts we bought

In a world of turmoil, strife and pain
He was born to bring us joy and peace
It’s time we seek His miracle once again

Be like children in heart, faith and yearn
He taught with a smile not so long ago
See in children’s smiles today and let us learn

I hope to be like a child and see
A world with faith in message of peace
And know how beautiful this world can be


Christmas Beautiful

Christmas tree is up, decorated sparkle and bright
It cops a lean to the left, but shh it’s still beautiful

Decorations everywhere red, green and bright
The third light from left is out, shh it’s still beautiful

Its just turning dark outside, lights timed for night bright
Porch timer ugh, let’s synchronize our times for beautiful

Ready for church dressed nice, everyone looks so right
My tie is not great, but I’ll fix it late, so I too seem beautiful

Presents and gifts, wrapping paper and bows make season bright
Now a mess of paper, boxes, children and child-like smiling faces beautiful

Dinner finally served, everyone helped to make this spread so right
All in joy and happiness, a toast or two or three, and all is beautiful

Evening, quiet seasons music, another toast under tree alight
It leans a little left, and so do I, as we match its Christmas beautiful


From Christmas Eve 1822… a wonderful poem

A Visit from St. Nicholas

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the housetop the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

A Network Of Thought

At the risk of too many ideas all in one place…

To become as one with others, gives our ‘I’ an ‘us”, and lives of many to augment the one we were born into, to expand knowledge, thought and the human experience. This thought was part of a question about language.

Specifically, does language spur thought, or is language an outcome of thought? Can you think without putting words to the thought? Possible, if we keep it simple. You can feel things like hunger, as a child does and express it without words. I think you can even reason in a temporary way, but that doesn’t really build memories, because you need words to replay memories, otherwise it is like muscle memory, something that is repeated but not consciously applied. Your mind can recognize patterns, but how do you communicate such memory, how do you share with others?

I think that language acts as an accelerator. With language we become something more than just an I, something more than the imperative of bodily needs and feelings. We have the ability to express and more importantly to learn in the abstract. Meaning we don’t need to experience it to find a way to communicate and internalize knowledge. Written language and oral histories in poetry, song, and art capture ideas, events, and make them part of a collective, tribal, clan, nation, and humankind experience.

Art is a form of language. A picture is worth ten thousand words. We even equate art with the words it would require to communicate it, as if there is an equation of sorts that could be discovered. Math is another means to communicate, and create a memory of something learned, but to apply it properly, we need words.

We experience a vast network made possible because of language. Something that is universally human. In every corner of the world humans developed language. An evolutionary means of survival for sure, but also a means of social expansion. Knowledge, learning, wisdom ensures not just the survival of our species but the advancement to something greater as a whole.

As a contrast to our admiration of rugged individualism, I contend that our social connection to the human network through language, empathy, curiosity and search for knowledge is and should be our priority. Our network of language allows our individual intellect to become part of a community that takes us beyond ourselves. It makes us part of a social and intellectual community with a legacy. Vibrations in this network, some louder, some higher pitched, connecting with thought, and sharing, adding meaning, emphasis, amplification or dampening.

I believe there is possible an even higher-level of connection, we still give words to it, but a telepathic experience will be something of humankind’s future, born out of something even deeper in our souls, deeper in understanding and empathy. Thoughts, feeling, that transcends words that we can hear or see. Something to look forward to the evolution of the network of us. In the present, we will relish the simple joys of a conversation over dinner, or a coffee, as well as the beauty of song and poetry, and stories and writings that moves us.

My Stories, Poetry, Thoughts of the day