TH (August 25,1945 / Plainwell, Michigan)


Sometimes my spirit weeps

Sometimes my heart cries out in agony

Sometimes my feet are washed
in the blood of my tears

My reward is not here.

Consciousness gradually returned to me.
Something about a game of chess..

It was a Friday evening and
I was in my apartment,
but I had the overpowering feeling
that I did not live there.

I had been trying to enjoy a game of
with a friend, but the usual round
of weekend callers kept interrupting
our meditative state of mind,

each with their own agenda
of self motivated wants and desires,
preoccupations and intoxications,
demanding my time and my attention
as if I owed it to them,

languishing in anger, relishing threats
of ass-kickings and get-backs,
worshipping violence and mean
as if it were a religion.

I glanced helplessly at my friend,
who put his index finger
to the side of his head
as if it were a gun

and pulled the trigger.

I knew that I wanted to leave

but simply going to another place
was not the answer, because anywhere
I went
I would only take with me
the same frustrations and confinements,

the same conflicts over spiritual energy
bothersome grosser
each one chained to his or her own
personal desires
the appetites of the flesh,
the acquisitiveness for possessions
I knew that if I wanted to be someplace
I must first not be here.

that I could not escape this world
and still be in it.

I realized I must make the transition to the higher
the more spiritualized existence
if I am to escape the longings
and desires that cause suffering
I must become not,
no thing.

The Journey must begin today.
I must seek to embrace the void,
to understand the meaning of non
the annihilation of the self
to achieve Nirvana.

Because I had seen that
I have been fighting a battle
that I cannot win
that if I hadn’t overcome
the same stumbling blocks,
the same struggles
which had always tripped me up,
held me back,
kept me from succeeding,
after this much time, half a century,
that I was jiving myself
to think I could overcome them
in the time I had left

That I was exiled in a land
where worth was made of gold
and measured by its inert properties,
a world of matter in conflict with itself
at war with all other matter
seeking its self existence above all other
condemned to continue its
until the realization that
awakening cannot come from victory
that peace cannot come from anger
that awareness of the infinite
is the only cure, the only course
the only way to escape
the round of death and rebirth

it is the knowledge I have been seeking
it is the only relief from the
universal roller coaster
of peak experiences,
highs and lows
which by repetition
can ultimately
only remind you that death can not be
we want to feel the peace of mind
that sees death as liberation
and annihilation as
relief from suffering.

And with this realization,
it began to preoccupy my mind
I began to long for it
as one longs for a distant lover
and desire to hasten its occurrence

and with the knowledge
of its inevitability

I began to feel solace.

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Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

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