leonardcohenforum.com

So many bad things
happening every day
that being happy
feels almost sinful.

But you are strong
and dare lift your smile
like a lamp that shines
along a murky road.

Perhaps this is what
God intended.

But you are strong
and dare lift your smile
like a lamp that shines
along a murky road.

We receive our own strength
from the unlikeliest of places
sometimes, don't we...

I hope you're able to embrace
without guilt
the happiness that comes to you.
I know what you mean
with what you say,
though.

Perhaps this is what
God intended.

Yes, clearly so...


I hope you're doing okay, Geoffrey.
It's good to see you here, again.


Love,
Lizzy

lizzytysh wrote:
>We receive our own strength from the unlikeliest of places sometimes, don't we...


Well, you know that line: "I took the dust from a long sleepless night and I put it in your little shoe"? That is derived from the middle of Matthew's tenth chapter (10:14) - the part where Jesus tells us to "shake the dust from our feet" - meaning that we should move on. Strength is an elusive luxury, though must reside somewhere.


aug 06
a rosebush fertilised
with the smelliest manure
produces a bloom
of the sweetest fragrance

Geoffrey wrote:being happy
feels almost sinful.

Happiness is just a temporary lack of lucidity, not a sin
Serenity is a more realistic endeavour

Interesting irony here.

Happiness is just a temporary lack of lucidity

Lucidity...from Lucifer, the morning star, Satan; bringer of light!

So happiness is a state of mind unlike that of Satan's.

Where do we go from here then?

It is interesting that while we forever condemn "Satan" ; we also acknowledge that it is "Satan"(Lucifer, shedder of light/understanding), who seems to have taught us how to ask the big questions and how to think.

Thanks for reminding me of that Simon.

For Geoffrey ~

Counting stars, in a sky of billions
there appeared the notion that life is always in search of itself
that we are the stepping stones in a process
that knows no beginning or end

Plucking petals in a garden of earthly delights
there bloomed a rose
that revealed the secret of love
see through the eyes of the heart
and only the heart . . .

if you wish to touch the blossom.


H

Interesting insights, as always, Mat .

~ Lizzy

Dear Harriet ~

Your brief poem was written for Geoffrey, but I wanted to tell you how beautiful it is. From the macro to the micro, the nebulous to the very specific, it feels both Buddhist and Ecstatic.

I wish I could have written it, but at least I can feel it. Thank you for writing it. A wonderful gift for Geoffrey.


~ Lizzy

Lucid. Bright; clear, pellucid; with clear shining surface. ~ (interval) period of sanity, between attacks of madness.

Lucifer. 1. The planet Venus when it appears in the sky before sunrise; the morning star. 2. By misunderstanding of Isa. xiv. (where the Hebrew epithet 'shining one', translated as Lucifer in the Vulgate, is applied to the King of Babylon), Satan the rebel archangel, before his fall; now chiefly in phr. as proud as Lucifer.

Jiminy.

mat james wrote:Lucidity...from Lucifer

Thanks Mat for bringning this up. This raises in fact the question of the influence of language on one's perception of reality.

A french speaker like me would not spontaniously have associated lucid with Lucifer even though the notion of light or brithness is also implied in Lucifer.

Etymologically, French and English do not refer to the same Latin source for the word lucid. It is only a slight difference but it counts none the less.

English dictionnaries associate lucid with the Latin lucidus, from which Lucifer is derived. Lucidus is the adjectival form.

The French for lucid is lucide. French dictionnaries instead associate lucide with the Latin lucide and not lucidus. The French language has kept the same form as in Latin. The Latin lucide is the adverbial form.

So it is as if English emphasizes quality whereas French emphasizes maner, and in my first post above my use of lucidity was meant to mean "to see clearly", "the maner in which one sees clearly"

I guess we could say that my reaction to your poem Geoffrey is rather a buddhist one. In :

So many bad things
happening every day
that being happy
feels almost sinful.

I hear The First Noble Truth of Buddhism which is that life is suffering. Happiness, momentarily throws darkness on the maner in which one sees clearly that life is suffering. Happiness is a blindness to the crude light of reality. But happiness is not a guiltful sin. At best it is vulgar, but it is human just as much as sadness is also human.

But you are strong
and dare lift your smile
like a lamp that shines
along a murky road.

Serenity testifies of your strenght and puts that Buddha smile on your face, despite all the bad things happening every day. Serenity balances happiness and sadness, darkness and light. Lucidity, is that serene lamp that shines over both darkness and light.

I was thouched by your poem Geoffrey. Thanks.

Thanks for the lucid clarification, Simon.

...and to continue as the devil's advocate,

and in my first post above my use of lucidity was meant to mean "to see clearly", "the maner in which one sees clearly"

What of the "cause" of clarity?

How does one "understand clearly" without the hindsight of experience? ...and where does one gain experience if not in the world of the opposites, life?
Does clarity come "after the fall"?
or before?

...and as for "sin"; an old Greek word for the the archer that takes aim and shoots, but misses the target. His degree of sin was determined by how far he missed the "bulls eye" by.
We all sin because we all miss the target
we are all forgiven because no-one hits the target every time.
Isn't it better to have aimed and lost than to have never aimed at all?

If I were a wise man (buddhist) perhaps I shouldn't aim and shouldn't shoot and therefore I could claim that I never "sin'd".
But is this merely "opting out" and not playing the game properly?

Words are symbols. And it is interesting ,as you suggest, that different languages play with these toys differently.

Back to Geoffrey and his fresh observation:

But you are strong
and dare lift your smile
like a lamp that shines
along a murky road.

Whoever it is that smiles for you, in this case does not sin!
They have hit the target and given assistance "along the murky road" of life.
Great truth in that image Geoffrey.

I know I am twisting things around a bit Simon, but it is fun, and, thanks for your patience.

Harriet wrote:
>For Geoffrey . . .


"The wheel of fortune
around it goes -
and where it stops
no one knows"

This time it stopped here, with a lovely poem for me. You may know that 'Harriet' was the name of Shelley's first wife; I hope your life is longer and happier.

Thank you :-)
G

Lizzy, thank you for the compliment . . . thank you.

Geoffrey, I'm embarrassed to say that I've never read Shelly.

I'm glad you liked the poem; and for your kind words

my heart thanks you.

Mat, on matters of the soul, I’m just a pedestrian. Most of the time I have no clue what I’m really talking about. I’m not trying to interpret Geoffrey’s poem. My divagation is an attemp to understand why the « smile » in the poem puzzles me. It may very well be that I’m very far from Geoffrey’s intent or from the source of his insparation.

To dare smile, despite the murkyness of things evoked for me an aptitude to serenety. Serenity being the best we can hope for, not happiness. And yes serenity implies experience of both happiness and suffering, of a lot of suffering. And no, serenity is by no means opting out and not playing the game, quite the opposite in fact. "Today is a good day to die" as the Sioux would say before going into battle. History doesn’t tell though if they had a smile on their face saying that. But serenity can be a safe ground from which one can set out to help alleviate suffering.

There are lives, human lives right now, for which serenity cannot even be imagined, for too much suffering, or too much happiness.

It seems we might be following the same tracks but maybe with a different outlook. What you reffer to as opposites I tend to perceive as complements. I tend to or force myself to. As for The Fall, I tend to perceive it as the fall into language. Language being more of the cause of the human condition than it is of the cure. To me, deep inside, poets really aspire to silence.