Maxims for trashmonks

As you've surely noticed, I like picking up trash. It's not exactly what I'd list under "likes" in a dating ad, but nevertheless. I often pick up trash around my town's river, beach, or streets. This has developed into a kind of meditation. I'm fond of calling it the way of the "trashmonk." Even though it has nothing to do with monasteries and monkhood.

Musing thoughts led me to these maxims.

Maxims for Trashmonks

Take care for your health
Respect others' territory
Respect others' possessions
Cultivate patience
Cultivate perseverence
Cultivate fortitude
Set goals and achieve them
What is clean one moment is dirty the next; what is dirty one moment can be clean the next
Don't be a burden on others
Don't preach
Set an example for others
Don't be troubled by those who mistreat you; just go on your way
Weather your hardships
Enjoy your rewards
Carry nothing that can't get dirty
Reduce, recycle, reuse
Educate others
Don't condescend
Take care to avoid righteousness
Keep your mind on what you are doing
Take things one step at a time
Step carefully
Prepare adequately
To be dirt is to be out of place
All things have their place
Whatever cleans tends to get dirty
Whatever can become dirty can also become clean
Mind your own habits before minding others'
Clean your own home first
Study waste: its materials, its effects
Rome was not built in a day
Trash is matter out of place.
Respect all matter.
All forms of matter have their appropriate place and time.
Diversity, not disorder.
As without, so within.
Clean without, clean within.

image: H.A. Shulte's trash art in Cologne

My friend's poem

Today was a day of contemplation. I woke to a clear morning, and went outside to sit in the snow for a while. Later I researched various forms of depth psychology, and under the same impulse wrote a musing on the foundations of religions. At various points I went outside to stretch, and watched the weather change from clear to blizzard-like, and back to clear again. Just now the stars came out and twinkled around the waxing moon.

I picked up some trash on my walks, but today's deed would have to be critiquing a friend's poem. Creative works are important to all of us, vital to well-being. I was happy to help my friend out. He's supported me quite a bit in the last few months.

The world is good. ;-)

ONE GOOD DEED: Offer constructive criticism on a friend's poem.

Poetry for a person in need

I love when the good deed finds you. I was sitting here wondering what in the world I could do for today's deed. While thinking, I replied to a person on an email list. When I hit "send," I realized I'd just done my deed. The person had said she was having a rough time, and asked for prayers and poems suitable from a pantheist perspective. I searched my notebooks and sent a few that might fit.

ONE GOOD DEED: Respond to person's request for inspiring pantheist poetry

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Here are the poems I sent:


Simile of the Open Queen

This Earth may be compared to a queen who declared her body's love open to all. She sent her animals to call those who had been invited to her bed, but none would come. Again, she sent her servants, saying, "Tell those who have been invited: Look, I have prepared my bed with green leaves, I have lined my eyes with dew, sweetened my breath with sea salt, and decorated my dark skin with sprouting things."

Then nine came to call upon the Earth. Of the nine, one neglected her while another took her roughly. A third took her weight and measure, and a fourth sang of her from afar. The fifth and sixth fought over her. The seventh cut the locks of her hair. The eighth made her lie down to be walked upon as a carpet. And the ninth made poetry and went away.

For the Earth has many callers, but few lovers. The nine left her tired, worn out, bitten, and bedraggled. Yet the servants are still spreading her promise: "Look, I have prepared my bed for all. Come. None shall I refuse."



The Earth! So Great (to the tune of Amazing Grace)

The earth! so great, so wide to roam,
That bore a bum like me!
I wandered lost, but now am home
Wherever I may be.

'Twas earth that bruised my tender feet,
And earth that humbled me,
I crawled, then ran, then took my seat
Beneath the ancient tree.

Through desert's fire and ocean's hail,
And dens of wild beasts,
I've passed and lived to tell the tale:
How green the earth can be!

And when these stony feet shall fail,
And earth embraces me,
Then other feet shall roam the pale,
And climb that ancient tree!

The earth! so great, so wide to roam,
That bore a bum like me!
I wandered lost, but now am home
Wherever I may be.



Lectio Divina Natura

The air is dark and dark and goodly so:
The more a subtle sense to open. Hush--!
A log is kicked, it fumble-tumbles slow
O'er withered leaves that crackle crisp and flush
For but a moment... then begins to blush
A spacious silence... next, a rising hum...
And last a voice as from the underbrush
Enrhythms, like to whisper something-some,
You can't quite tell, but all the world is in its drum.



Haiku Collection: Crows in Winter

When winter descends
The somber-veteraned crows
Do not fear the cold

Undisturbed by gust
Nor gale, the well-entrenched crows
Stare down the north wind

While thirsty birds wail
For winter's cruel frozen joke
The crows drink the snow

When others quiver
And curse, the crows swish and swoop
Without a shiver

Hopping and cackling
For a winter breadcrumb's joy
Like a royal feast

In dead of winter
When all else is white as bones
Still the crows are black

Perching on ice-sheets
The crows hold silent vigil
For the coming thaw