Thursday, July 23, 2009

First & Third Noble Truths, in a nutshell.

The awesome rumble of a thunderstorm sneaking up behind the house, clouds swiftly shifting from docile and puffy-white to ominous, and gray

I sit in my room in wonder at the strange beauty of this place--
and yet so poignantly how I feel it is not my place

Another rumble, and I realize
in how many countless minds must that thought have crossed
this is not my place
-- 'tis a slaves cabin, after all;
and before my family moved in, home to a depressed man who liked to shoot at the trees from the back porch.

How many places are there, like this
whose fate it seems to be to shelter, protect, even nurture
an array of suffering foreigners?

And within these lovely walls, the walls that I love as my home,
I wonder,
how much of that suffering is mine, and how much of it simply the state that this place has known, indeed what it may offer?

The storm passes, the night is cool.


Barry said...

I wonder if we are separate from any of the places in which we find ourselves. Some places may not feel like home (my wife and I have lived in our house for over 2 years and it still doesn't feel like home) and yet where else could we be? What is this feeling of "home" that seems so elusive?

mama p said...

That is the million-dollar question, isn't it...

and worthwhile to explore in my next post, methinks! Thank you, Barry.

solsticedreamer~laoi gaul~williams said...

its interesting to think of vibrations from the past lingering...

mama p said...

...especially when they were so powerfully repeated, over many years. emancipation of the slaves was ~1865, after the end of the civil war; and likely this place was built in the late 1700's/early 1800's. that's a lot of *mulling over one's situation* to say the least. it's not for certain, but it is interesting to wonder how much of "our stuff" is really ours, and how much of it is a common joy/suffering lingering in the environment. it's humbling.