Capricious Chance and Steady Causality

These days I find myself reviewing Prajnaparamita/Madhyamaka philosophy (curtesy of wonderful translations by Karl Brunnholzl) along with some of David Bohm’s early writings (particularly his book “Causality and Chance in Modern Physics”). This morning I recalled a poem I wrote in the mid 90s and was amazed at its continuing freshness. I suppose that this shouldn’t be surprising considering the poem was originally entitled “Anew”!

Unknowable dancing vastness,
conceiving spontaneous present
that isn’t a moment.

Capricious Chance and Steady Causality,
Two sides of time, the coin of becoming,
Bursting fresh the universe
With a brand new me appreciating,
Playing music in the boundless hall
With notes a-noting.

Walking down the path,
seeing for the very first time.
Continuously born anew.
Never repeating
Never repeating!
Echoes of infinite difference,
of exquisite subtlety.

Open your eyes and disappear.
The seeing you is different from then.
Walking forth in the morning light,
A new,
A new,
A new!
Tuis tumbling through the sky
Singing with the pure wonder of it all.

All perception is a blur.
Everything moves, movings within movings.
No matter how fast our glimpse
the moment still smears itself across the retina,
Pretending to be discrete moments through photon limitations.

We live in a blur,
moving senses passing changing messages
to a never resting brain.

Discrimination is averaging,
probabilities calculating.
We ‘see’ with our hopes and memories,
frozen encounters
sculpted deftly
to support our stories.

‘AH’ but wait.
Perhaps we are not ‘seeing’,
That is, – seeing something waiting to be seen.

Perhaps the world is birthing
never before beholden.
The seer – the seen, the knower – the known,
mutually shaping infinite cause
makes causality meaningless,
and so everything is both mother and child
and mysterious choice is the father.

Infinite, spacious, awesome creation;
self and dollars, and addresses and business,
all seem so tiny,
so blind to the fullness.

Joy and gratitude pours from my heart.

Sarva Mangalam, Sarva Mangalam, Sarva Mangalam