If Caring Matters, I Have Done My Part*

-If Caring Matters, I Have Done My Part-

 

Sometimes I marvel at how deeply I care about things that do not physically exist - For example, God - but also, iconic religious or historical figures, even my own literary inventions - But that is the way that things work for me. For if they did not work that way, my world would be even less like what I believe my physically non-existent God intended.

 

I think He wants me to think as He does, and my proclivity to care about or even love things that are largely my inventions may well be the attribute that most closely resembles the way He operates. Thus, I cherish the things that I create, so that the goodness of their existence reflects on the one who loved enough to create a person like me.

 

But to do so, I must endure a gauntlet overseen by a demiurge, one that distracts me from my intuitive sense of the Eternal and causes me to focus on my immediate needs and desires. Alas, once they gain my favor, they require my time and demand my allegiance - And then, I am detoured from the path that is clearly set before me.

 

But perhaps John Donne is right about God’s facility to translate our pages into a greater book in which our lives are fully written. That I may know in the “fullness of time.” But if caring about my inventions matters, I have done my part faithfully and with the very best of intensions.

 

-P-

 

You bid me make a book of dreams and won me, as we walked

Among the lilies of the field, and touched me, as we talked

 

You bid me, love what could be loved beneath your loveless sun

And loved me for the love I lost, and for the faith, I won

 

You bid me make a book of dreams and knew that I would weep

In beauties that I could not see and vows I would not keep.

Reviews

[Paris Hlad]

A Second Effort to Answer Your Question ...

Albert Einstein put it this way: "You can believe that nothing is a miracle or that everything is a miracle." For me, not a bad starting point when you consider that there over 200 billion trillion stars in the "known" universe. Moreover, when we view the Andromeda galaxy through a telescope, we are viewing what was existent 2.6 million years ago. Time (even space) may just be use human concepts. Therefore, we seem to be parts of something so big that we cannot even rightly conceive of it.

Thus, like the mystics of Judaism, Christianity and the other more sophisticated religions, I try to discover and follow the "logos" (the Word of God) - That to me is the path "clearly before me." What is on the path and even why the path exists is a total mystery. But, so far, it seems to break down into two basic things: (1) tragedy, and (2) wisdom.

[Paris Hlad]

Hi, Lisa -

I've been mulling a response to your question for several days. Eventually, it will manifest. For now, I can tell you that I do indeed believe that a path is clearly set before me. Life seems to be is a continual uphill journey, rife with tragedy, sorrows, and despair - And as you know, old age is not for sissies. It's an obscure quotation from Shakespeare, but that always strengthens me when I am under existential assault goes, "Then be strong and prosperous in your resolve." Which to me means, my life has meaning.

I'll get back to you.

Eugene

[Lisasview]

This one of yours Eugene brought tears to my eyes... as I sit here and reread your words and gaze out the window, at the end of the day, as the rain is stopping, I wonder why my heart is filled with the pain that your poem expresses so beautifully.
I just reread it again and find that your thoughts are oh so special...and, I appreciate that you share them....putting pen to paper for all of us to read.
Do you feel that your path has been clearly set before you? I ask because at the age of 75 I do not... For me each day is an opportunity ...perhaps even a challenge for me to work through...probably not the right word...
I find myself rereading your explanation again and again... in some ways it is very much like a poem itself..
Well, I feel I have said all that I can about this wonderful poem... The rain has stopped and so have my tears,
Lisa