Friday, October 02, 2009

Gaelic: A MAN'S RESPONSIBILITY TOWARD HIS GROUP

This is from The Gaelic Manuscripts, by Stewart Edward White. Gaelic was never published, but was mimeographed in a single run of about 200 and distributed to White's friends. And it is not like White did not know what he was doing. He had books published from around 1900 to into the 1940s, some of which are standards in the field of metaphysics. Included are two of my foundational sources - The Betty Book and The Unobstructed Universe. Those two books I ran across decades ago and have not found better in all the years since. For anyone interested in metaphysics, in channeling, in life after death, in why we are here, I cannot recommend any books higher.

...This passage is from Chapter III of Gaelic. Upon reading this, I thought of the age-old conflicts between cultures and nations, and I saw that the conflicts are there so that the people can work out the group "karma." Karma is not the correct word exactly, but it gives the idea. Just as the conflict in Northern Ireland lasted until the women stepped in and said, "Finally! Enough!" so will the other conflicts exist until some of those within it - NOT directed by some outside political force - decide that they just aren't going to do it any more.

From Gaelic:

5. A MAN'S RESPONSIBILITY TOWARD HIS GROUP

This seemed good, as far as it went, and quite cleared up a number of people with 'Uncle Peters' of one sort or another in their immediate families. But Gaelic was not through with the subject. At the next opportunity he continued with it.

"The individual man is a member of, not one narrow group only, such as the family, but also of a succession of ever more inclusive groups until he is to be considered finally, as far as your earth life is concerned, a member of that which comprises the sum-total of earthly incarnations. Each of these groups has its own type of problems, good and evil, to be worked out, all of which have the same characteristics of being beyond the power and scope of individual solution, but which may eventually be worked out by individual contribution toward solution.

"They have also the characteristic in common that they are individual problem and responsibility.

"The exact form in which, and the exact manner in which, they are proposed are dependent upon the individual circumstance. The human being is born upon your planet and conditioned by its limitations because his state of being fits those limitations. He is born Chinese or Arabian or African or Caucasian, and conditioned by the peculiar limitations which inhere racially, because his state of being fits more or less accurately those limitations. He is born into a family and is conditioned by the heredity of physical makeup, because his state of being finds a comfortable fit within those limitations. He is born with certain physical qualities of body which limit him in his possibilities, because his state of being does not, at that state of development, press beyond the bounds thus set for him.

"So, while one may say that an incarnate is by the fact of incarnation unable to reach the same powers of perception as the discarnate; while we may say that a man born, bred and educated in the criminal slums cannot by that fact be responsibly aware of higher ethics; while we say that a man born with certain glandular secretions cannot attain a normal balance, we must not therefore conclude that fatal circumstance is to bear the entire burden as an explanation. The state of being has not actually formed the outside envelope, as some schools of your thought would have you believe; but it has come by a sort of magnetic attraction of appropriateness to that circumstance which most nearly clothes it.

"Now the hope and the release come through the vital and intelligent working out by the individual according to his capacity and the opportunity of his own progress, toward harmony and enlightenment. Just as each embryo passes in review the whole biological history before it arrives at that point where it is to function as an independent human being; so, as a member of the group, will the human entity live through the spiritual history of that group before arriving at the point where it can function as an independent worker on its destiny. As the embryo wholly and completely lives its life as cell, reptile, fish, tailed animal, and so on; so the child lives wholly committed to the outlooks, the points of view, the beliefs, prejudices, temperamental vices of its own group, the family. It has the family attitude; it has the family loves and hates, tastes and religion, politics, sympathy, hardness, courtesy, rudeness, which is the atmosphere of its little group.

"So the youth in his larger group is provincial, ignorantly arrogant toward what he lumps together as 'foreigners,' ineptly patriotic without thought that patriotism means aught but self-assertion, and blandly indifferent to the peoples beyond his border.

"Only a little broader is the Caucasian within his race, is the Arabian, proud and self-centered beneath his desert stars, is the African, convinced that whatever powers of magic the white man possesses - he alone is the great man of earth. And so the Chinese, secure within the age-old serenity, looks with contempt upon the 'foreign devil.' And so the human race in its youth bends its eyes downward towards its speck of earth and cries out against the few who raise their eyes.

"But as the child grows to manhood, just as when the embryo grows to human form, it begins to appraise and utilize what has been unthinkingly a part of itself. It is knowledged in the family temper or the family pride, the family point of view toward human kind, the family religion and the family politics, the family traits of all kinds that make a group. He does one of two things: he controls and utilizes them by the alchemy of his personality: or he continues, unresisting, their tradition.

"If he does the former, there is either that much more or that much less of this particular impetus, which had originated far back in that particular group. If he does the latter, responsibility in his case has been passed on and must be worked out by others who follow. Furthermore, he has, by his indifference, so accentuated these certain qualities in himself that his magnetic attraction toward this type of limitation in the future is greatly intensified.

"On the other hand, if he has, by even ever so little, worked out a portion or a phase of this group impetus, he has not only removed just so much limitation from the world, but he has also lightened the human burden for his successors on this particular job and, naturally, qualified for a wider field himself.

"This can only be done according to his knowledge and his capacity. The child is not responsible for storming at the servants. It is the family habit, and he thinks it is the only way. The man who has literally never realized cannot be responsible for what he does not know. But intellect and the perceptions come into contacts outside the group, and they cannot fail to bring the seeds of enlightenment through comparison."

For the full Gaelic text, at no charge, please respond here to this post, or go to this link The Gaelic Manuscripts. I have put it all on one .pdf file, so it is easier to read in my copy. (And it is way too long to post in its entirety here.)

Quietly full undone - Poem

Quietly full undone

Engendering, generous woman, thee,
Offering growing moments, free.
How can I express my love?
How can I say yes to love?
How can I be less than love?

To you, for you, to us:
Rendering wonderful us -
Blended tenuous, close -
Sensuous sinuous:
Us.

What will be, when you are gone?
Who will we be then?
You still fleeing, stunned,
Me still being only one.


Cry I will, for what is done,
Quite a rill, for that not won,
Quietly full undone.

Quietly full undone.



Copyright 2009 Steve Garcia

My Heart is a Grenade - Poem

My Heart is a Grenade


My heart is a grenade,
And the pin's been in it for too long.
I've carried it
On a bandolier where its been all along,
Against my breast,
Where it rises with heartbeat and breath,
And where, I confess,
It's been for far too long unblown.


I sit beside the road
Of love, where I have marched along
And wondered when,
Or if the road does really go somewhere.
Again and again,
Eyes closed, I’ve heard the pairs go by,
Around the bend
And o'er the hill, till only stillness stays.

The wood is near.
It stands behind me, morn and eve.
Besides the beating
Of my heart, it's the only friend I have.
The sun, the dust,
Which both might be the friends of me
Have for so long
Become themselves my enemies.

Alone I sit,
Alone I stand, alone I fret,
Awaiting for
The woman who might get me yet.
With bated breath,
I've stood beside the road for her to come
And sighed inside
At those who've come and gone,

Releasing them
When they've not blown my soul grenade.
I apologize
For all flirtations sent or made,
Then waved goodbye,
And settled back upon my roadside rock.
They've all been nice,
But not enough to set my heart on fire.


Alone I sit,
Alone I stand, alone I fret,
Awaiting for
The woman who might get me yet...


Copyright 2009 Steve Garcia

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Poem - The Night and Me

The Night and Me


It comes with the night.

It does,

The muse.


The fuse ignites. . .


The silence does

Its deeds inside.

It needs the night,

And so do I.


I have to be there

When they come,

Connections

In their thrumming,

Drumming,

To the different hums.


I have to hear them coming.


Words on little cat feet,

As Frost expressed the fog.

Yes, fog it is

Enfolding, holding onto

Rhythms, warm and cold,

Flowings coming, swift and slow.


I have to be there,

Hear them clearly,

Share the air

They echo,

Bend my neck

To catch them,

Turn my ear

To hear them,

Net them,

Let them

Be consumed.


I am

Eater of words,

Digesting, testing,

Resting here,

To find the meter,

Hear them,

In the bright of night

To hear their light

To give them sight.


I need to be here,

Hearing them,

Feel them waking,

Meet arrival,

Taking note

Of what they wrote

Upon the night.


If I’m not here,

How can they live,

If I’m not here?


I welcome them,

Sometimes in glee,

Sometimes in tears,

No, never fears -

The gifts of them

In gratitude

They give me life,

My latitude.

I’m blessed they’ve

Not sent platitudes.


...Their life forms

Striving to be born,

Words flow foglike

In pre-morn.

Night is when

They come to life,

To take to sea,

A-scrambling down

From nest to surf -

The turtle words

That come to me.

Eager life forms,

Trusting me

That they can swim

Unnumbered free,

Unencumbered

Gleefully.


I bow to them,

They know it, too.

They bow to me.

We know it’s true.

They simply love me,

Want to hug me,

In our rugby

Game of glee,

Roughly tumbling,

Tackling free,

Muddy buddies

Joying to be

Wrestling, whistling,

Quietly,

When nighttime comes -

And they to me.


Oh, dead of night,

I worship thee.

What would I do -

What could I do –

With none of you,

Without

The din of you,

The fun of you,

The want of you,

The fount of you?

Oh, dead of night,

I bow to you.


Written this,

One dead of night -

Early Spring,

Two Thousand Nine...


Copyright © 2009