Encouraging Encouragement

In conversation with friends yesterday morning, we got telling stories about times when we had been embarrassed in front of an audience. Everyone had something to add. My contribution was the day parents visited in my kindergarten classroom. The teacher had me lead the class doing the actions for that old song 'Here We Go Looby Loo'. As I remember, I managed putting my right hand in and shaking it all about; but I really didn't want to be the centre of attention while shaking the other bits. So instead of putting my left hand in, I wet my pants. As I recall, nobody followed my lead.

A few other things happened when I was five, but they have been forgotten because they weren't tagged with unforgettable angst and shame. We try to avoid the angst and shame. That's what they are for. Because of the angst and shame, I can report that I have never gone Looby Loo since I was five, although I have wet myself on occasion. 

Don't ask. I don't want to talk about it. 

Nobody made a fuss about the wet spot on my shorts back then. People are sometimes encouraging and that keeps one trying. Looby Loo is now just a fading memory, and I have been encouraged since to sing other songs. Here's A Very Special Day recalling some good times with friends.

Remember This

When wisdom comes in threes, it's unforgettable, or so I had hoped when I wrote this. Then I made the mistake of turning it into a poem, treating it as a puzzle inviting readers to find their own meaning. Quite forgettable. Anyway, it all wound up going to the curb with the garbage. Tomorrow is garbage day, you see. I must have inherited Dad's no-nonsense attitude to trash. Unfortunately, I took another look, and, like Mum, retrieved it hoping it might be of interest to someone. Waste not, want not.

This is for you to dispose of as you will.
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I've already written on respect, restraint and reciprocity, the keys to community.

Then grace, gratitude and generosity, the curriculum for a master's degree in peace.

I have another trinity in mind: being, belonging and becoming, three words each of us must add as authors to the existential book.

Existential has to do with being, not being beautiful or ugly, good or bad, strong or weak, just existing. Bare, unmodified existence is a miracle whether God thought us up or mum forgot to take the pill or we are the end result of 13.8 billion years of cosmic accidents. Each being is a naked miracle. Why would I say that?

Why not? Knowing I am a miracle should make me humble-proud. I am a miracle among miracles: stars and planets, princes and paupers, bats and gnats, worms and germs, lightning and starry night, whales and whelks and winkles, storms and streams and seas and desert sands. I am one among many, not a thing apart. Being is belonging to the miracle. Why?

Why not? Being is a story with paragraphs already written and chapters yet to be, not a finished book. Being is becoming the story.


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Three triplex tropes provide the magic tools,
mnemonics of the existential rules,
reminders where we store the fluid thoughts
to quench the burning questions: why, why not.

Respect, restraint and reciprocity:
three steps from ego to community,
to punish or reward, to praise or blame,
to motivate with conscience, pride and shame.

Grace, gratitude and generosity:
three steps to care for all humanity.
Compassion, love, forgiveness to release
inclusive and expansive global peace.

To be, belong, become: consider these
three clues toward the nameless Mysteries
to find our whispered purpose in the breeze
and arbitrary quarks and galaxies.

Then out of memories and what we know,
we reinvent our being, wondering how.
Belonging and becoming is a thought
to make a better being. And why not?

For when we're done with being and we're gone,
the timeless miracle will carry on
becoming something more long past our ends,
belonging to the stories of our friends.

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If that didn't put you off and you haven't had enough poetry, watch and listen to God's Garden with a sound track of Amazing Grace, arranged by Mark Hayes and played by a younger version of me.