Flowers Set on Tables

eFlowers Set on Tablesf

 

An Ambivalent Take

On the Multitude[1]

 

-By Charles E. Tenenbaum-

 

And I saw that flowers were set on tables

In the Great Hall, according to my wishes.

 

And I was pleased to see that those I favor

Were among those that were chosen -

 

Some that were pleasant to look upon,

To smell, and to touch with my hand -

But others that pleased me

 

Inwardly

 

And deeply.

 

So, I thanked my servants

For having satisfied my wishes,

Though I knew from the beginning,

(As they knew from the beginning)

That my hopes would be fulfilled.

 

And I rejoiced in the knowledge

That I had blessed my servants

 

In all the ways that

Would please them;

 

And that my servants

Had received my love

 

With the satisfaction

Of having pleased me.

 

So, I left the sanctuary of the Great Hall

To walk among the multitude,

Confident that my servants

Were happy in my love,

And I, in their love.

 

Yet I could not keep pace with the many,

As I feared where they would lead me.

 

For the multitude was

Indifferent to my fellowship,

And pressed hard against me,

Which caused me to stumble

And, at length, to heavily fall.

 

But each time that I fell, I rose up

And continued to walk among the many,

Not fearing the press of their shoulders.

 

But now, a blind man stumbled before me,

And I stumbled in his stumbling,

And others stumbled on me

 

And mocked the one

Who stumbled

Before me.

 

And I said to myself,

“The blind man walks as he walks,

And the others walk as they walk.”

 

But those who stumbled at my heels

Overheard the things that I said

And began to mock me �"

 

And that caused me to stumble once more

On the one who stumbled before me.

 

So, I turned to look at the faces

Of those who scorned me -

 

That they might know

The harshness of my eyes,

And the steel of my judgment.

 

But I saw that those who mocked me,

Looked beyond me when I turned �"

 

Oblivious to the blade before them.

 

So, I pushed these men aside

And took the arm of the one

Who stumbled before me.

 

And we spoke of the Great Hall

Where flowers are set on tables.

Then, I climbed to the summit of a mountain,

One that overlooked a bed of soft clouds,

With the summit of a higher mountain,

 

Far off in the distance.

 

And I beheld a mighty trebuchet

And a line of many goat-like men

Who waited on a turn to be flung

To the higher mountaintop.

 

 

But I saw that no volley succeeded,

And that caused me to wonder

What was below the clouds

That softened the fall

Of the one who fell.

 

For I saw that a lift was lowered

To raise the fallen back to the summit,

So that they might seek success again,

Without having to re-climb the mountain.

 

And thus, I began to imagine

A blanket of white feathers,

Made from the wings

Of innocent angels.

 

And I marveled at the reasoning of the goat-men

Who were flung to the sky, knowing they would fail,

And yet, fall into a soft and comfortable breach.

 

And I said to myself:

 

“This trebuchet is an invention of marvelous jest,

As I have witnessed no incidence of success,

And know not what success might land on -

 

Happiness or rocks?”

 

And I admired the delusions of fools,

As I could find no fault in their intentions

And suspect it is better to presume failure

In a bed of clouds and comfortable feathers

Than to achieve success in a pile of rocks.

 

-

 

So, I came down from the mountain,

 

And I saw that the multitude

No longer moved like a great herd,

Pressing hard, one against the other.

 

For the many had come to a resting place

In the green foothills below the mountains.

And now, they conversed in brotherhood.

 

But I saw that a rare thing of great value

Had been left in the open, unattended;

And that some had moved close to it,

Admiring its beauty, and longing

To take it unto themselves.

 

 

So, fearing the intentions of those who drew near it,

I secured that item and spoke to the multitude,

Saying, ‘If this item is your item, then say so,

 

But if it is not yours, do not say that it is,

For then, this item will lose its value

 

And become a curse and not a blessing.’

 

And for a long while, no one spoke or moved,

As no one could say that the item was his -

And those who only desired it,

Saw risk in claiming it

 

Since many eyes would witness

 

Their dishonesty.

 

So, I continued to stand before the multitude,

Holding the item above me so that the many

Could behold it and admire its rare beauty.

 

But as the hours passed, I grew weary of holding it,

And angry with those who envied the hand that held it,

 

Even though the item

Did not belong to the hand

That held it and showed it.

 

And I began to fear that its owner would not claim it,

And that by default, the item would become mine.

 

So, I spoke again unto the multitude, saying,

‘Do not be ashamed of losing precious things

But triumphant about finding what was lost.

 

 

And then, a grieving woman

Arose among the many,

 

And in her tears of shame, she saved me.

 

For the item was hers and she had been dreaming,

Unaware that her treasure had been lost,

 

And that a stranger had discovered it

And secured it on her behalf.

 

And she embraced me

In thankfulness and love,

 

As I embraced her in love

And greater thankfulness.

 

 

But now, those who still coveted the item

Gathered together and began to whisper,

Sometimes lifting their narrow chins

And glancing at us suspiciously.

 

Then, one of them rose

And pointed his finger

Directly at me, and saying

 

 

“This is the man who did not fear our shoulders,

The one who caused us to stumble upon him,

And admonished us with his steely gaze.”

 

And another said, “No, this is the watcher

Who declined his turn on the great trebuchet

And dismissed our ambitions as ludicrous.”

 

And yet another who was among them said,

“Indeed, he is both of these men - and more!

 

For now, he is a thief

Who gives our treasure

To a grieving woman.”

 

And their whispers turned to chatter,

And their chatter to a cacophony

Of calumny and threats.

 

And this caused the multitude

To abandon the hope of brotherhood

And to argue among themselves �"

Many saying that the covetous

Were right to chastise me

 

But some saying,

 

“No, the covetous are full of evil and slander;

For we have seen with our own eyes

How they drew near a treasure

That could never be theirs,

 

And how this man secured that treasure

On the woman’s behalf, even fearing

That the item he held would

Become his by default.”

 

But now the grieving woman

Turned to address the covetous.

 

And her eyes fell upon them in judgment,

Though her voice murmured like a brook

In a calm meadow of melting snow:

 

 “What you covet, condemns you to vanity,[2]

And vanity condemns you to fear �"

And fear to all manner of evil.

 

You walk like a herd on a beaten path,

Trampling all things that are before you.

 

You immodestly fling yourselves to the heavens,

Knowing the heavens will remain forever above you,

And that their blessings will remain forever beyond you.”

 

And now, you slander the good

Because you cannot possess the good

But can only hiss like serpents at the good.”

 

Then, a villain who had been silent,

And who was nowise other than a goat,

Unsheathed his sword and raised it high above

The woman who had regained what she had lost;

But she neither feared his blade nor his goat eyes.

For that which is Eternal mocks what is momentary.

 

 

So, I returned to the solemnity of the Great Hall,

Where love is and flowers are set on tables.

And I asked myself what men will think

Who will think of things after me,

Except for what I have thought.

 

And I heard a voice say:

 

‘Yes, that is the fate of all men

Who will come after you,

Just as it is your fate

 

To think what men have thought before you.

“For all is vanity, a pursuit of the wind.”

 

And so, I spent some days contemplating

What the voice had imparted to me,

 

And those days turned into many good years,

And the many good years into a lifetime �"

And still, I was glad to contemplate

What the voice had said to me �"

 

Sometimes in the forsaken hours before dawn,

When I was alone and wary of the darkness,

And sometimes in the glow of twilight,

When my servants had prepared

A table for me in the Garden

Where I broke bread

With loved ones.

 

And each time that I did this,

I took respite in the loving arms of hope

And beheld the promise of a trusted face,

Which had for the length of my lifetime

Been a beacon of purpose and meaning.

 

But now, the end of days had come,

And I was summoned with others

To the quarters of the Master

 

And given an easy task.

 

For the Great Hall was in peril

And only we few had the means

To act on the Great Hall’s behalf.

 

And the Master did not hold back

His gratitude for our small service

 

But gave us new servants,

Even before we served him.

 

And I said to those who were mine:

 

‘See that flowers are placed in vases

And set on the tables of the Great Hall

As emblems of the honor that I am given.’[3]

 

And I knew that this would be done

Because those who were given to me

Were sons and daughters of the Eternal.

 

And so, in the ebullient glow

Of the next day’s sun, I awoke

And set out upon my mission,

 

Knowing that I would succeed

In the easy task I was given.

 

For angels, old and new,

Had placed flowers on tables,

And now, shouted triumphantly,

As I moved through their midst,

 

Taking each golden hand offered

In love and indubitable fellowship.

 

“[And] my yoke [was] easy,

And my burden [was] light.”

 

-POSTSCRIPT-

 

I could choose to walk with the herd,

Fling my body from a high mountain,

Or claim things that are not mine.

But none of these activities

Can alter the paradigm

In which they occur

Because they are

The paradigm.

 

A better paradigm is necessary �"

One that transcends measurable time

 

And has always been

Available within me.

---

[1] “Flowers Set on Tables” may best convey the poet’s ambivalence toward humanity. He said that its mystic narrator is based on his childhood recollections of an elderly widower and shoe store owner who occasionally came over for dinner and ping-pong on Sunday afternoons. He described this teacher as “a kind of other-worldly grandfather, comprised of hilarious insights and reasonably good intentions.”

 

 

 

[2] According to Paris, people covet a meaningful life, and without God at the beginning and end of the existential paradigm, many turn to the pursuit of advancing their position in the general human hierarchy. However, most people are too intelligent to believe that what they achieve is objective success; and thus, feelings of frustration and failure are ascendant. But it is difficult to go back from what has been internalized, and what has been internalized is that life is without meaning �" To Paris, the primary source of mental illness.

 

 

[3] Paris believed that the cost of doing difficult virtuous things is diminished by the practice of doing easier virtuous things. Setting flowers on tables is a metaphor for doing small acts of virtue, a laudable discipline that increases faith and reduces existential fear.