The focus of "The BeZine," a publication of The Bardo Group Beguines, is on sacred space (common ground) as it is expressed through the arts. Our work covers a range of topics: spirituality, life, death, personal experience, culture, current events, history, art, and photography and film. We share work here that is representative of universal human values however differently they might be expressed in our varied religions and cultures. We feel that our art and our Internet-facilitated social connection offer a means to see one another in our simple humanity, as brothers and sisters, and not as “other.” This is a space where we hope you’ll delight in learning how much you have in common with “other” peoples. We hope that your visits here will help you to love (respect) not fear. For more see our Info/Mission Statement Page.
The front The Cathedral of St John the Divine in New York. After services, writer Bill Logan stepped out the front door with a young woman he was trying to impress. The Very Reverand James Morton greeted them and asked Bill what he would like to write about. Bill said “Well… about Dirt”, On the spot the prelate offered him a room in which to write such a book. Which he did… (as well as wed the earthy young woman who came to services with him.) When published the book was graced by loud praise. One reviewer wrote, “A gleeful, poetic book…. Dirt is kind of a prayer.” And Bill Logan went on to marry the young woman … MORE
Four billion years of evolution have created the dirt that recycles our water, gives us food, provides us shelter, and that can be used as a source of medicine, beauty and culture. However, people have become greedy and careless, endangering this vital living resource with destructive methods of agriculture, mining practices, and urban development. The Movie uncovers the surprising ways we can repair our relationship with dirt and create new possibilities for all life on earth. You may never look at the ground beneath your feet quite the same. MORE
Our film adapted the spirit of the book: we filmed with pilgrims going to The Sanctuario de Chimayo to feel the hand of God by touching dirt, and taking some home with them.
Our film suggests that our connection to dirt and the natural world goes beyond stewardship to interconnectivity and a deep spiritual connection. As Okenagan writer, artist and teacher Jeannette Armstrong puts it: “ I am that river, I am that mountain, I am that dirt. I could pick a hand of dirt and that’s, that’s what my grandmother used to say. She, she’d pick up a hand of dirt and she’d say, “this is my flesh.” MORE
Directed by Gene Rosow and Bill Benenson, Dirt! tells it’s environmental call-to-action tale with interviews, stirring cinematography, and googly-eyed or storybook animation (images of fertile fields swaying with plants, giddy spade-holding babies, cracked deserts, third-world slums, and giggly, poo-shaped and -colored cartoon blobs posing as dirt particles; the latter are most disturbing when wielding knives to kill other dirt particles or lobbying with gavel and pickets to vote humans off the planet). Ultimately Dirt! does what a good environmental documentary should: enlighten, galvanize, and entertain audiences, and in this case, make them want to get dirty. Chrisine Champ, Seattle PI.com, review MORE
When I stared what was to become my flag-ship blog, Musing by Moonlight, two-and-a-half years ago, the first poet-blogger I discovered was Charles Martin. I was so enamoured of his work that I not only started following him regularly, but his was the first poetry site I added to my blogroll.
This particular piece is perhaps my favorite of all Charles’. Enjoy! We plan another post from Charles on Tuesday, July 12, but you can always visit him – and I recommend that you do – at his site, Read Between the Minds.Both the photograph and the poem were created by Charles. J.D.
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don’t let the door ….
by
Charles Martin
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after you’ve finished
ranting and raving
about how unfair
life has treated you
and
you’ve
told the last person
who will listen
all your misfortunes
perhaps
on your way out
you could take
a moment
to explain
to the child
in north korea
why they’re
always hungry
and to the ones
in angola
what happened
to their mothers
and fathers
you could even
take a second
out of your miserable day
to tell
the little hmong child
why they’re surrounded
by razor wire
of course
that is
if you
have
time
My friend and Christian poet and writer, Donna Swanson, writes here about creativity, the fleeting quality of success, and the things that really matter, like family and gratitude. No matter your definition of God (or not) or whatever your belief system is (or is not), the essence of the message here is core wisdom. Enjoy! … and thanks to Donna for sharing. J.D.
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THE HEART OF THE MATTER
by
DONNA SWANSON
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There have always been creators. To us creating is a display of God’s image in the world. Creating is an ache in our spirit; a compulsive reaching out to those who share life with us. We can no more not create than we can not breathe. Though there is a longing for our creations to be affirmed and applauded – anyone who denies that is lying to you – there is a deeper hunger to do the act of creating. The feel of a brush on canvas; the weight of a pen in the hand; a particular word that completes a poetic phrase: these are to our souls as oxygen is to our lungs. Though no one responds, still we must offer. Perhaps the next painting will invoke a response; the next book, the next poem, the next song…
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And success? Now, as I look back over my life, I have a much different perspective than I did in my youth. I see those things I created, and they are good. I know they have blessed the few people they have touched. And now I can put them to rest where they belong; in God’s hands. If there comes a time when He wants them widely known, they will be. If not, they were infinitely satisfying in their creation.
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Again, as I look back over my life, I see the successes that mean so much more than any amount of fame could supply. I asked God to give me acclaim and the praise of my peers. He gave me good children who rise up and call me blessed. I asked God to make me financially successful. He gave me a beautiful home set amidst towering pines given by those I loved. I asked God to make my name known. He gave me a husband who knows me and loves me just as I am.
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Our family has never been abundantly wealthy, but we have never gone without food or clothes or a warm fire. We did not have expensive indulgences or travel to exotic places, but we’ve had those small blessings that mean most because they were a surprise or a loving gift.
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Success is relative. Success is fleeting. Success is a carrot leading a donkey down many a rocky road. Success is okay if it happens, okay if it doesn’t. It’s the road one takes to get to the destination that builds the soul. The road has been worth it.
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Connect with the multi-talented Donna at the links below:
Leisure by W.H.Davies(1871 – 1940), Welsh poet and writer
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In 2007 the Washington Post posed the question: “Can one of the nation’s great musicians cut through the fog of a Washington, D.C. rush hour? Thus it came to pass that – masquerading as a street musician – the world renown violin virtuoso, chamber musician, and orchestra leader, Joshua Bell, played his Gibson ex Huberman (1713, Antonio Stradivari) using a bow made in the eighteenth century by Francois Tourte for the pleasure of DC Metro commuters. He treated them to the sweet strains Chaconne (Bach‘s Partita No.2), AveMaria (Schubert), Estrellita (Ponce), and closed with a Bach gavotte.
Bell concerts are packed to capacity and tickets can run to three figures. During the forty-three minutes he played in the D.C. metro, 1,097 people passed him by and he collected $32.17. Twenty of those dollars were donated by the only commuter to recognize him. Only four-or-five people actually stopped to listen.
When we marched,
Slithered
Through slimy mud past riot-shielded cops in Alexander
(This is the ghetto.)
While children peered wild-eyed from dark windows,
For some of us these were re-runs of earlier apartheid-burdened days.
But, then, it was defiant resolution that drove our hearts and braced our feet.
Now, sadness at betrayal sat sadly on our hearts.
Our shouted slogans hung heavy over us in grimy air.
We winced at familiar oft-repeated lies
Oft-repeated lies.
There are people for whom poetry exists almost exclusively as an aid to social change, to political discourse– not as some sort of didacticism – but as a discussion, a wake up call, a way of approaching some truth, finding some meaning, encouraging resolution. I’m not one of them. I am as likely to write about the beautiful flowers that have just popped on my orchid – at last – or something my mom said fifty years ago as I am to write a poem on a social issue. But it does happen and quite often: a horrific war photo, a news report of an injustice, a homeless person outside the grocery, a friend in pain that I can trace to some social issues, and the words start to flow. There’s the urge to respond, to do something – the urge to activism.
As I make my way around the blogosphere, I delight to see how many poets blog for causes – “worthy” causes as my mom would say – and I know that “worthy” is in the eye of the reader. War is big. For those poet-bloggers who are pacifists, this medium offers one means of passive resistance. Perhaps passivism is the strongest form of resistance and poetry the conscience of the collective soul.
In the 70s, the American author, poet, and musician, Gil Scott Heron, wrote The Revolution Shall Not Be Televised (video below). It comes to mind now. For those who remember, this might seem odd. It’s a Nixon-era piece, but we’re still struggling with the trivialities Heron is so beautifully strident about. And the revolution couldn’t be televised. It would be too big for one thing. Though Heron was addressing issues for blacks, I would submit that while we have different histories, we’re all struggling to stay afloat on the same broken-down raft.
In Dennis Brutus’ poem above, he points to the world we now live in. Having survived Robben Island with Nelson Mandella, he was freed only to find that while apartheid ended in South Africa it had become world-pervasive. The issue now he discovered was no longer race but economics: the few haves vs. the masses of have-nots. And those who have just a bit – enough to feel safe and perhaps a bit smug – are just a hairbreadth away from have-not.
I can’t help but think that the revolution so many of us seek is rooted in transforming values. Hence, it is more evolutionary than revolutionary. As such, perhaps it is too gradual and pervasive to be televised. Perhaps it is evident in our blogosphere and the heart-born prose and poems of simple folk like you and me with nary a pundit or politician among us. Perhaps it’s a bottom-up thing, more likely to be blogged than broadcast, rising from homespun poetry – outsider literary art – sometimes rudimentary and awkward, but always quiet and true and slow like a secret whispered from one person to the next. It is perhaps something stewing even as we write, read, and encourage one another. Perhaps there is some bone and muscle in what we do. Individually we have miniscule “audiences.” Collectively we speak to enormous and geographically diverse populations.
I think I hear army boots a-marching, marching across networks everywhere. Or perhaps poetic fancy has caught my spirit today and all is dream …I hope not. Blog on …
So let some impact from my words echo resonance lend impulse to the bright looming dawn
In February 1966, flood waters north of Ma’an, in Jordan, brought down into the Hasa Valley near Petra a single dying specimen of the species called Struthio Camelus Syriacus -the ostrich or, as the Chinese call it, the Camel Bird of Arabia. Since no ostriches had been seen on the Arabian Peninsulasince 1941, the unexpected appearance of even one specimen gave hope to some optimists that these ostriches – which once roamed freely through Arabia—were not extinct but in hiding. MORE [Aramco World Magazine]
Commercial interests with their advertising industry do not want people to develop contentment and less greed. Military interests in economic, political, ethnic or nationalist guises, do not want people to develop more tolerance, nonviolence and compassion. And ruling groups in general, in whatever sort of hierarchy, do not want the ruled to become too insightful, too independent, too creative on their own, as the danger is a threat that they will be insubordinate, rebellious, and unproductive in their alloted tasks. Robert Thurman
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Robert Thurman holds the first endowed chair in Buddhist Studies in the West, the Jey Tsong Khapa Chair in Indo-Tibetan Buddhist Studies. After education at Philips Exeter and Harvard, he studied Tibet and Tibetan Buddhism for almost thirty years as a personal student of His Holiness the Dalai Lama. He has written both scholarly and popular books, and has lectured widely all over the world. His special interest is the exploration of the Indo-Tibetan philosophical and psychological traditions with a view to their relevance to parallel currents of contemporary thought and science. Columbia University, Department of Religion
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Robert Thurman won the TED (Technology, Entertainment, Design) Prize in June of 2007. In addition to that and the accomplishments listed in his Columbia University bio above, he writes for BeliefNet and cofounded Tibet House in New York, which is dedicated to preserving Tibetan culture. One of his more recent books is Why the Dalai Lama Matters, subtitled “His Act of Truth as the Solution for China, Tibet, and the World.”
In the video below, the acceptance presentation for the TED Prize, Dr. Thurman talks about our hyperlinked world. He describes a world in which we can know anything at any time. This means that we are always aware of the suffering of others and cannot ignore our inter-relatedness. We cannot ignore the misery of others. He suggests that this is in effect a mass enlightenment and a step toward Buddhahood. J.D.
Thich Nhat Hanh (b. 1926) Zen Monk, Dharma Teacher, Social Activist, Writer, Poet, Peacemaker
Nhat Hanh is now recognized as a Dharmacharya and as the spiritual head of the Từ Hiếu Temple and associated monasteries. On May 1, 1966 at Từ Hiếu Temple, Thich Nhat Hanh received the “lamp transmission”, making him a Dharmacharya or Dharma Teacher, from Master Chân Thật.MORE [Wikipedia]
Though a Zen Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh combines traditional Zen with techniques from Theravada Buddhism, the wisdom of the Mahayana tradition, and ideas of modern Western psychology to teach meditation and spiritual values and practices in a way that resonates for people from diverse religious, political, and cultural backgrounds. He is a writer, poet, and peacemaker with over 100 books published (many in English). He was suggested for but never received the Nobel Prize for Peace by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Since 1966, Thich Nhat Hanh has lived in exhile in France. Based at Plum Village, a meditation community in the south of France, he is a leading Buddhist teacher, encourages engaged Buddhism (a movement for social activism that he founded), and conducts humanitarian efforts.
Thich Nhat Hahn coined the term “interbeing,” a pointer to the Buddhist principles of impermanence and nonself, which bring light to the idea and ideal of the inter-connectedness of all things. He founded The Order of Interbeing, the members of which include lay people. Link HERE to brief summaries of each of the fourtheen mindfulness trainings of the Order of Interbeing. J.D.
“If in our daily lives we can smile, if we can be peaceful and happy, not only we, but everyone will profit from it. If we really know how to live, what better way to start the day than with a smile? Our smile affirms our awareness and determination to live in peace and joy. The source of a true smile is an awakened mind.”
Here is a meditative interlude. The title of this post is a quote from the meditation, which is an excerpt from an album called Graceful Passages: A Companion for Living and Dying. It features spiritual teachers from many traditions offering advice to the dying – in other words, advice to all of us. Today and everyday : in metta, A.E., R.R., J.D.
Bodhirose (Bodhirose’s Blog) has been blogging about family life, things of the spirit, and her ashram-life experiences since August of 2010. In this short time, her sincerity and authenticity has earned her a loyal following. We so appreciate the ideals expressed in her most recent poem, that we asked permission to share it with readers here. J.D.
♥
NO BLAME
by
Bodhirose
Brown or white we won’t demean
Orientation will all be seen
Your beliefs different than mine
That’s okay we’ll be just fine
Call to prayer five times a day
Or none at all, we still can play
The dress you wear is not my same
Makes no difference, there is no blame
Language, culture, a variety
Makes for interesting diversity
Sexual preference, I don’t care
Love of all is my sacred prayer
Discrimination against our own
Is a hateful trait to be de-throned
Release all intolerable distinctions
Of racial, gender, religious institutions
Open mind, open heart
May compassion be our mark
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Photograph and poem courtesy of Gayle Walters Rose and Bodhirose’s Blog. All rights reserved, 2011.
If the only prayer you said in your whole life was “thank you,” that would suffice. ~ Meister Eckhart (c. 1260 – c. 1327), German mystic, theologian, and philosopher
“Gratitude is a memory of the heart. If we can remember, why can’t you?”
Gypsy (the grandkitty) and I blog together at The Cat’s Meow.She’s the creative/spiritual inspiration. I do the keyboarding. As you can see, Gypsy is rather outspoken.
Originally the blog was entitled The Peaceable Kingdom. We changed it when we realized that surprisingly – or perhaps not so surprisingly – that name didn’t invite traffic. It does, however, encompass the meaning and intent of the blog. While we hope to brighten the workday for readers with funny, cute, or inspiring videos and beautiful animal photos, the underlying message is about respect for our younger brothers and sisters in nature and for the connections among all sentient beings. Many of the posts are about interspecies friendships: animal and animal, animal and human. The implied question we posit is that “if they can do it, why can’t we?”
Animals give us so many gifts (lessons) including: companionship, unconditional love, and gratitude. This lion does indeed have “memory of the heart” as the Gypster says: Ten years before that video was taken, Anna Torres, who runs a nonprofit animal shelter on donations and the proceeds from her teaching job, rescued the lion, Jupiter. He was starving and dehydrated and ill. She cared for him and still does and he is grateful and shows it.
After a life-changing adventure in South Africa, Amy Nora Doyle – writer and intuitive – begin an adventure: celebrating the ordinary life in an extraordinary way. She blogs at Soul Dipper, where she shares her experiences and channels her guides, the Soul Group Ra. I particularly liked this story, such an honest one. Here Amy finds herself spinning on and making judgements and assumptions about someone, only to learn that she is totally wrong. I think we all can see ourselves in this story as both the judge and the judged. Enjoy! J.D.
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DON’T BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU THINK
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by
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Amy Nora Doyle
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A more evolved person would say: “What’s the big deal? It’s only a load of lumber. He’ll probably bring it tomorrow.”
Except, it feels like a big deal.
I put my life on hold to accommodate his schedule. “Thursday morning before 11:00″, he confirmed on the phone two days ago. It is now after 6:30 p.m. and the appointed length of lumber has not been delivered as promised.
The spot for storage is cleared. The prepared dumping site is barren.
Tomorrow is no good. I have appointments and he has other commitments. That’s why we agreed that he’d come today.
Good grief, here’s a mature man who is a member of a stalwart island family and he has not kept his word. He is supposedly trustworthy.
Come to think of it, I have noticed subtle gestures from his wife when I saw them together. She usually leaves a group setting when he joins the conversation. He sort of takes over the conversation.
Once she said it was their anniversary. “Congratulations. How long have you two been married?” I asked.
“Oh, I’ve only been married to him for 15 years”, she said. “I was married before. My first husband died. The children are from my first marriage.”
The absence of enthusiasm was as good as a confessional.
She continued, “He’s a good man, though. Been a good father to my children. But, you know…at times, I find myself wishing he’d talk about something other than his antique cars and farm machinery. He’s always looking for more information or parts. I know he wishes the kids would show a little more interest…”
A Gift From My Guides
Yes, I’ve noticed that little ‘something’ whenever we’ve talked.
Let’s face it. He’s a great hulk of a man who talks too much. He is not a man of his word. He bores his wife to death and most people just want to avoid him. He’s like all the rest of the people who never do what they say. If anyone asks me about his service, I’m going to be honest. People like him should not get away with this kind of nonsense. Look at this! It’s 7:30 p.m. No truck, no phone call and no lumber. And even worse, I did no writing today until now. I couldn’t concentrate with one ear at the door. He’s really screwed up my day.
The phone rings. 7:47 p.m. Why does that time appear on clocks so frequently in my life? What does it mean?
“Hi, I’ll swing by now and bring your lumber. I promised I’d call first.”
“Thanks. See you in a few minutes.”
The poor man. He’s still working! It’s going to be dark before he finishes unloading the lumber. He’s had a hip replacement in his retirement and he’s still working so hard. He must be starving. I’ll offer him something to munch on. I should have told him to not bother tonight.
Suddenly his white truck backs into my driveway. He parks perfectly by the prepared spot. He jumps out of the truck and cheerfully sets up the rigging for unloading the lumber all by himself.
“You’re working awfully late, aren’t you?”
“Well, I was doing a little fix-it job for the local Kids Klub and it took a little longer ’cause when I gave one of the young fellas a ride home, turned out his mother needed her washer fixed. Then, when I got to the lumber yard, some guy had jimmied his loader so I gave him a hand, you know, just so he could get out of my way. Then Old Rex Thornton drove in and wanted to know what he could do with his old ’49 Chevy. He figures he’s ripe for the old folk’s home. So after we had a little chat about it, I suggested we go and have a look at it. It’s in great shape. By gar, I think I’ll buy it. Then he got to showin’ me some of the other stuff that he wants to get rid of. I know lots of people who will be interested. Turns out his wife was having trouble with an old clothes line that she still wants to use – you know how women like the bedding to smell fresh…”
Link HERE and scroll down to read the guided commentary that follows this story on Amy’s site.
The BeZine 