Writing to a Friend Who Has Retired to a Beach Shanty

author’s note:

Any big structure is held together with a lot of little structures.


WRITING TO A FRIEND WHO HAS RETIRED TO A BEACH SHANTY

Yes, I’ll admit
your theory sounds plausible:

the careless behavior
of the human race
may indeed indicate
a secret wish to fall.

Not that we want to end our life, no—
but the higher we build
the greater our anxiety
so maybe we feel tempted
to just give up, give in
and let the structure tumble.

But because we want to calm our anxiety
we struggle to maintain our stability
and so, for now, we are still standing up.

Like you, I feel nervous
about the way we teeter and totter.
So yes, I’d like to retreat
to the peace of the beach
but no—I know
my rest wouldn’t be
true equanimity.

No artificial peace for me—
no sitting down—
I’ll work to maintain my balance
and in that way
do my small part
to keep our mad tower
pointed toward the clouds.

Get the Message: a short guide for understanding dreams
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

The Little Farmer Feels Grand

author’s note:

I have met the space alien and he is me.


THE LITTLE FARMER FEELS GRAND

I claimed this land

then built a house and fence
that could withstand
the ferocity of the seasons

and under a sky, deep and wide
sowed a crop.

So I felt quite satisfied with myself
when I sat down to rest
but then

I began to sense a presence
pervading this broad valley.

Later that night I woke in the dark
to hear this message whispered:

you own nothing here—

you are a visitor, a stranger

allowed to take for a moment

then whisked away like a speck.

Though my ego felt wounded
I realized the truth of those words.
I was not mighty; I was a mite
supping on an indomitable creature.

I’d seen this farm as a monument
to my courage and endurance.
But after my passing
the elements would soon
erase all I’d done.

But I also knew:
if I stopped work—
if I abandoned this dot of earth
I would feel
even smaller than I felt now.

So I decided on this strategy:
during the long day
I would focus on the task at hand
and not let my eyes wander
toward those distant mountains—

not gaze across the sweep of this valley
to the horizon

and if I began to sense
that all-knowing presence
I’d shut down my awareness.

As a result of this tactic
my daily labor still seems meaningful.

But at twilight
when I’m done with chores
I sit down once more
and allow my perspective to stretch—
allow myself to again
feel the living presence.

Allow myself to remember
I’m nothing but wee alien visitor here.

An odd thought—a little disturbing
but at such moments
I regain my sense of wonder.

I never felt so grand
until I became
just a bit of airborne dust
living for a breath in a kingdom
of heaven and earth.

mythsteps · The Little Farmer Feels Grand

Get the Message: a short guide for understanding dreams
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

The Egg Surrenders to the Inevitable

author’s note:

We seem to be metaphor-making machines.


THE EGG SURRENDERS TO THE INEVITABLE

All that day I wondered
if we would ever change

so that night my deeper mind
gave me this dream:

I’m egg
trapped inside its shell

so I want to break out
but no—I feel safe
but no, I don’t really feel safe
because this shell could break.
I should leave such a fragile place
but no—
this space has kept me safe.

So I try to go but I try to stay

and remain locked in place
until I finally realize the obvious:
I can not live, unless
I accept this death.
So I surrender to the inevitable:

I let my shell break open.

But then
I can no longer live
as an egg

so I live as an open well—
humbly offering water to all
because I know
I don’t actually own that water.

The dream told me:
one morning we will finally
surrender to the inevitable
and then yell:
to hell with this shell!

mythsteps · The Egg Surrenders to the Inevitable

Get the Message: a short guide for understanding dreams
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Spirit Lost and Found

author’s note:

I hope my computer doesn’t realize what I’m saying about it.


SPIRIT LOST AND FOUND

Often after hours of tapping
on this flat keyboard
these fingers will begin to malfunction.

But I can easily fix my digits
by going outside for a spell
to see…to breathe…to feel.

My spirit then wakes

wakes
as that high-spiraling vulture
lifts my eyes with its glide

wakes
as that all-knowing stone
says silently:
sit down and ease your doubt

wakes
as I share an embrace
with that oak tree merging heaven and earth.

My spirit wakes to their spirit.

As for this hypnotic mechanism…
maybe it lives, but without spirit.
As a result, while tapping
I often feel too much alone.

So when my hands say stop
the cause is not merely fatigue
but also the weight of alienation.

Lifted
when I escape to the elemental reality
of rock and roots and leaves and wings.

Yet I return
to the manufactured reality
after just a short recess
because

with this cool tool
I can grieve publicly
over spirit lost

and also share
the joy I experience
when I resurrect my spirit.

mythsteps · Spirit Lost and Found

Get the Message: a short guide for understanding dreams
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

How Ego Saved My Tree

author's note:

"Poems are made by fools like me,
 But only God can make a tree."
            -- Joyce Kilmer

Maybe so, but we can damn well help.


HOW EGO SAVED MY TREE

Lost, I was—and tired
of searching for new life.

So when I found
a winter woman of deep roots
sitting cross-legged on the ground
behind a lonely gas station
I begged her for direction.

Without a word, she then pointed me
toward a gray hill covered with a stubble of stumps.

Yes, I said, she knows how much
that wounded land needs me—
needs
my merciful healing.

Now, after much uplifting labor
I have finally realized
the obvious:
I feel small when I feel
I’m not needed.

Maybe not the best way to be
but

apparently the ego
can sometimes serve the spirit:

as I battle to save this hill
I am green spring
and I am gold autumn.

mythsteps · How Ego Saved My Tree

Searching for my best beliefs: poetry book
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton