Wisdom’s Seven Pillars – Pillar #5 Mercy –

“Wisdom has built her house, she has carved out her seven pillars:” Proverbs 9:1. The aim of this series is to present a non-cliche, non-religious point of view of wisdom. I do subscribe to some religious interpretations of the subjects addressed, but wish to here, only point out the common understanding of the principles.”
Pillar #5 – Mercy
 
“compassionate or kindly forbearance shown toward an offender,an enemy,or otherperson inone’s power” – Dictionary.com
 
I have always found that mercy bears richer fruits than strict justice.”
Abraham Lincoln
 
Mercy is crucial to wisdom, allowing it to function by bringing constructive resistance to the force of knowledge. It directs the power of wisdom to accomplish its highest objective, that of bringing and nurturing life. Without it, wisdom may be a cruel master, harsh and unrelenting. Religion, philosophy, intellectualism, and government, followed without mercy will surely end in violence and the destruction of the individual. I yield to the powers that be, hoping for mercy as I address my issues, learning that, as I expect it, and it is necessary for my growth, so I should express it in my dealings with others. There is no greater power than wisdom applied to a life with mercy as it’s arms to lift, to teach, to heal, and to encourage.
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03062012

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Disease

“I swear, gentlemen, that to be too conscious is an illness – a real thorough-going illness.” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground 
“Despair filled his skull even more tightly than his own brain. All around him cars filled with normal people perfectly unaware of the disease turning Perry’s body inside out. Fucking normal people.” ― Scott Sigler, Infected   

He folded his arms, tightly, like a knot by a five-year-old, and scratching an unconscious itch, wondered at the bloody drop rolling down his aging skin. Wiping it away, he couldn’t help but taste the irony of death. The tics and eccentric behaviors that manifested since the incident made him an odd sort. It wasn’t his fault, he was told about the consequences of playing with the dark. The dark, always forbidding, forever in tales of lore and fables of heroes and damsels, wasn’t he warned? He wanted to see what was hidden, what moved and was caught out of the corner of his eye, begging an explanation. The blackness held an allure, pushing him into a sort of night that comes on those depressed and abused, and holds them, protecting and discouraging at the same time. On that night, he witnessed what others only pretended to know. 
Praying to the powers that kept life and death apart, he fell forward into the darkness, wholly accepting whatever lived there. As he strained to see, he knew that his senses were his friends, and not the eyes that betrayed him. The shadows boiled and rolled, threatening, yet, comforting. Things calling him, bringing whispers and tickles on the back of his neck. The holy house stood confident at the beginning, though the shadows within betrayed that camouflage. Some shadows were darker than others, malevolent and unforgiving. These fear provoking shades are the ones he desired, the dangerous, the despised, and angry forgotten ones, forgotten by fear and ignorance, chased away, but only in their minds, they drew his curiosity. As one gathered itself from the rolling chaos, it writhed up from the depths and called his name, not his given name, but a name he never knew, a name that reminded him of fairy tales and legends. This began his love affair with the dark and conceiving a hatred for the cursed disease called life. Others longed to live, but he, only to die. Life offered no solace, no hope, but the great emptiness of death, there a lover waited that never left and forever hissed the affection that only cold embraces can show.

Clouds – Promise of Change

“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.” – Rabindranath Tagore, Stray Birds 
alxndrasplace

When it comes, like clouds, forming mushrooms in the afternoon sky.
In their power, change.
Solo plumes and powerful gathered masses, threaten and bring life
In their power, change.
Eternal questions erased in a moment of violence, life given solace
In their power, change.
Take the water of pain, given without invitation, let it rain
In its power, change.


Also published in Wingposse
08012011

Love In Hiding – Why is love so evasive?

“Maybe it’s just hiding somewhere. Or gone on a trip to come home. But falling in love is always a pretty crazy thing. It might appear out of the blue and just grab you. Who knows — maybe even tomorrow.” – Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart
hop3lessdreamers

Why is love so evasive? It hides behind impossibilities. Dancing around dashed hopes and crushed dreams, it laughs, seemingly immune. Attempts to force its hand are met with indifference. It scoffs at the futility of such manipulations. It can appear dead, then, resurrect itself in spite of all logical resistance. Contrary to reason, it brings to madness the mind of the genius. Delighting in the bafflement of its adversaries, it raises strong arms to show defiance of prediction. Having disarmed reason and logic it takes the journey into sweet insanity, a wandering exploration through places beyond imagination. Struck with its seduction, a mere touch becomes a fire of uncontrolled passion. A whisper transforms itself into an echo that continues long after the source had taken its leave. Having then all power held in suspension at its will, surely the proverb is true, “now abide faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” I would have to agree, and that is the reason for love’s evasiveness – it is because it can.

Also published in Broowaha
Also published in Wingposse
10252011

The Power Is Yours – Allocating your energy to create

“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost.”
Martha Graham
 
You have energy in you. You feel it building, through the hours, through the days, and through the years. Perhaps from success, perhaps from suffering, no matter how, it builds. It longs to be let out, to be used. You feel the need to do something. Celebrate, cut loose, anything! Slow down for a second. You can use this energy for great things, wait before you spend it. Acknowledge it, then use it to create something…words, music, art, or an idea. Anything to bring life. The energy is there. You will do one of two things, destroy or create. Harness and direct the energy to create a powerful positive force in your life. Turn the potentially destructive energy generated by suffering into creative energy and create something positive. Bring life from it. The power is yours.

Also published in Broowaha Magazine 


12282010

Watching Porn – An intellectual assessment of the viewing

“Pornography is about dominance. Erotica is about mutuality.” – Gloria Steinem

It started when I was little, so little that my body scarcely knew what to do. Though guilt inflicted itself on me by nature and nurture, still I found solace in the pictures, a sense of peace and pleasure. The assuaging of my guilt, an advantage, as others commit that which intrigues me. The sordid interactions of the players on film and paper exempted me from the game of life. Watching removed me from the elements of rejection and worthlessness, instilling a pleasure that gave me sweet relief from the pain of this torturous childhood that cursed me.

The acts depicted were a reminder of those forced on me. By seeing those acts replayed by others, and gaining pleasure from the same, they gave me a sense of control over what had and would happen to me. Bodies flow and move and engage, bringing climax or a heightened sense of control as they guide their passions toward mysterious goals. Who can know what is in the heart of the one taking another sexually? Perverse and vile thoughts abound in that stormy atmosphere; refreshing rain on one hand, a lashing and punishing wind on the other. So I watch. 

Gaining a surreptitious sense of control over things done to me by the beautiful lewdness of naked and bound play things. Of great interest to me are the abnormal psychological patterns expressed in my thoughts as I see the engagement. A baton of deviation passed on from generation to generation by not so subtle players who leaving the film of their imagination, now commit those acts on the fledgling innocents, and not so innocents, in life’s journey.
 

The act of sex is not so much the goal, control is. Control and power. Control over those acts which I had no choice, power over those who have hurt me, the faces of those violators superimposed on the victim in the play. So I watch and pray that I will never commit those acts that run so vividly through my mind. So I watch. Is there a choice anymore? What drug will relieve me this way? What counseling will subdue the raging fire, the misguided but ever true passion?
 

None ever has, nor will any ever, keep these demons at bay but one, that is my God, strong and ready to hold me by the reigns and never let me go, giving me the gift of choice. I must choose wisely, the way is costly. The power of this thing is so strong, I don’t want to admit the choice. I want to give in and never whisper a prayer for forgiveness. Prayers are hard now, harder still, the choices.

Also published in Broowaha Citizen Magazine 
06192012

Gentleness of Strength

“Silk is a fine, delicate, soft, illuminating, beautiful substance. But you can never rip it! If a man takes this tender silk and attempts to tear it, and cannot tear it, is he in his right mind to say “This silk is fake! I thought it was soft, I thought it was delicate, but look, I cannot even tear it” ? Surely, this man is not in his right mind! The silk is not fake! This silk is 100% real. It’s the man who is stupid!” ― C. JoyBell C.

“Be like water making its way through cracks. Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way round or through it. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves.” – Bruce Lee
dewdropzgarden
 Gentle, striving to be easy with the hardness life brings. Being gentle when the attack is not against me is easy, but let my lover betray me, let a random act of violence occur, let my child be molested in spite of my best efforts, then it proves supremely difficult to resist hardness. When gentleness is discerned by the predators of man and beast, it signifies vulnerability, a sign that brings pursuit and attack. There is however, a side of gentleness that is contrary to weakness. Warriors learned long ago that deftness, a soft touch, is as deadly as brute force. The less effort, the faster and more powerful you will be. Gentleness learned is self control gained. To deny the victim demeanor and become a survivor, a warrior, requires a necessary application of gentle traits. Hold the knife easy. Squeeze the trigger softly. Bend not break, as a willow in the breeze. Bruce Lee taught the principle: be like water. Water is soft, yielding, and enjoyable to be around, but still maintains a fearful power. Gentleness is not weakness, it is power under perfect control. I’m this gentle soul, the water that gives way, and still I possess a force to overcome the most difficult opponent, whether it be in the form of man or circumstance.