love the moment

From Bob Sherman's daily email: The Seven Blunders of the World is a list that Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi gave to his grandson Arun Gandhi, written on a piece of paper, on their final day together, shortly before his assassination. The seven blunders are: Wealth without work Pleasure without conscience Knowledge without character Commerce without morality Science without humanity Worship without sacrifice Politics without principle This list grew from Gandhi's search for the roots of violence. He called these acts of passive violence. Preventing these is the best way to prevent oneself or one's society from reaching a point of violence. We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children. Native American Proverb

All through my life I have had my suspicions There have been those things Unexpected Some were shocking, some lovely All memorable Like the hero of the book Mrs. Ridell gave me Or the plot twists of more movies than I can remember They all pointed to a nexus, a convergence Just beyond my sight, just over the horizon Like that song you love so much but just cannot remember the title just now Or that girlfriend in eighth grade who though now almost forgotten, then Filled all the space in your small but brightly lit room What I'm saying or possibly trying desperately to say is There is a mystery here It is cleverly written and the plot is mesmerizing If only because I - and you - are the main characters We have seen triumph - we have seen tragedy We have met lovers and liars and louts more than we can number But through it all we have kept our wits And that alone should be enough to convince us But we have been burned once or twice and, by now, We are hard bargains But life persists a...

In my freshman year, I first became acquainted With that intrusive guest who will someday visit us all I remember the sunny day in a suit that did not fit Talking to convenient friends after the graveside service Young and stupid, we ignored the dark stranger standing nearby We ignored the fact that the buried one Had been our school's anointed Star athlete, teenage stud His status offered no protection That his end was not sudden - but long and agonizing Should have taught us But we would not listen So easily distracted by breasts, fast cars Rock and roll We ignored anything not listed in the college curriculum It is as American as pie, and V-8's with Holley Carbs and Hurst Shifters That I, we avoided the admission that Death must not be forgotten Life cannot be lived fully without it It is the electric shock that will jolt us Awake To know so well that we cannot forget That life is precious Though rich and abundant It is not free Every day we make a payment That ends with our...

Faith of our fathers A line from a hymn I once knew But I am thinking of old men Who remember things as they never were Women, blacks, gays All pushed aside or Inside any one of many Small, predefined spaces Faith once meant more than this Rigorous minds asking Hard questions That ultimately arrived at the point Of their own limitations Their honest confession a witness to What they did not know fully But hoped to be true A long journey, and tortured for some So that now, when I see that old, frail man Bowing low at a shrine to the ancestors I hope that I, too, will someday Bow low And honor the quiet knowing The rest enjoyed only by those Whose death marked - not the end - But the beginning Of their next, great journey dg 5/17/11 Sent from my iPad http://jdavidgamble.blogspot.com/

I meant to write today I really did I drove to Starbucks with that express intention A determination not unlike Patton's pivot to Save those besieged at Bastogne All week I have been water boarded by living The constant deluge left me gasping, confused I remember the disorientation of my freshman year The confusion of doors opened into worlds I had not seen Professors who spoke in code Blithely emphasizing points in a syllabus They no longer believed I did not know in my innocence that they lied I wanted so desperately to believe Seeking a home in a homeless world I resisted the truths in books not yet written Answers hidden in lives between the lines Lines, borders, boxes It was all I knew Rules, rulers, ruled out completely A childhood of no's It took some 35 years of education before I knew that Nobody knows Anyone who says otherwise Is either Deluded A liar Or a salesmen This is a hard and priceless truth The cost of knowing this Took every day...

Blowing lazily Lightly floating on dusty wind before Resting momentarily This piece of paper's journey is unknown to me Where it began or it's unlikely destination If life began as a whirligig launched by a Mother Maple or even an acorn fallen from a Majestic tree Then that long road from Sprig to sapling from Tree to tree to tree Taller, still Maybe even inspiring tales of Forest fires avoided or Mudslides endured till finally growth and Altitude such that it rises above the canopy green Then, a lumberjack's blade and a Logging chain A waterlogged route to a paper mill Such patient growth, such soaring life Over days, and months and years Ends as pulp Soon dried and pressed and cut To become sheets of white Black lines embossing Randomly chosen for love letters Or a laundry list of things to do Places to see Briefly loved But then, quickly cast aside An unjust fate for a seed who Once began so nobly dg 5/7/11 Sent from my iPad http://jdavidgamble.blogspot.com/