Letter To the Leaves: God Does Exist. And It's Spelled W-E

My Fellow Contributors,


One of the books I am reading at this time is Eckhart Tolle's book, The Power of Now. This book was actually recommend to me by Slick a few months ago and I have been devouring it every since. The tagline for the book is, "A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment". I recommend it to everyone who is searching for their own inner voice and presence.

I bring this book up not to discuss philosophies, but because their is a section of the book that I feel resonates with what I have discussed in several of my previous blogs.

Here is the section I want to point at today,

"Don't get stuck on the level of words. A word is no more than a means to and end. It's an abstraction. Not unlike a signpost, it points beyond itself. The word honey isn't honey. You can study and talk about honey for as long as you like, but you won't really know it until you taste it. After you have tasted it, the word becomes less important to you. You won't be attached to it anymore. Similarly, you can talk or think about God continuously for the rest of you life, but does that mean you know or have even glimpsed the reality to which the word points? It really is no more than an obsessive attachment to a signpost, a mental idol....

...If you had a strong aversion to the word God, which is a negative form of attachment, you may be denying not just the word but also the reality to which it points. You would be cutting yourself off from the possibility of experiencing that reality."

 Jack and I were having a conversation after the last open mic. You see he's been writing a bunch of physics poetry lately and asked me if I believed in God. I told him, that I was raised Roman Catholic and my views aren't as simple as whether or not there is a God. I told him that I view organized religion as a medium through which I can find my spiritual enlightenment or presence.

In rebuttal he told me that I had to acknowledge that science is the only universal truth. That God is only used as a weapon against groups and that it is worth not believing in because it is only used for evil. He told me that he was raised christian but has now come to the realization that there is not a God.

I read the passage from The Power of Now after this conversation, and felt that these were a few lines I should have quoted in defense of my position.

The way I see it, God is only a signpost used to get everyone connected to a universal truth. Jack, and other people like him, are asking the wrong question. Its not whether there is a God, but why would a God be created.

I was doing some research for an article on the relationship between business and religion. In my research I came across an article about Karl Marx. He held the view that God was created by men, and was used to keep the laborer in the chains of the capitalist. I agree with Marx in one respect, that God was created (the word and the way its delivered) but rather than a means of oppression it is a means of liberation.

It is a way for all of us to "be on the same page"; to focus our attention on one idea. Rather than getting caught up in the how of religion, we need to get focused on the Now of religion. The feeling that it makes us experience and the sense of freedom, warmth, love, and tenderness it opens us up to feeling.

So don't get caught up in words. Don't get caught up in other peoples opinions or in their religion. Everyone is searching for the universal truth. They are searching for their own god-essence and they are teaching us that we are all connected.

Physics, God, Science or Religion. These are only tools teaching us to transcend.


As Always

Undoubtedly Yours,

Bermuda the Man

Building Your Writing Toolkit: Part 7 - Voice as Stain

Many writers don't know literary voice from their asshole. They write plots and poems just trying to get from Point A to Point B without thinking about how their work sounds inbetween inception and completion. This is reqlly quite sad because the authors through history who have been loved (and perhaps more importantly, remembered) have strong, complex, delicate literary voices. Scroll down the page. Look at what Jack has written this week, find Leena’s most recent post, check out Nick and Slick's musings, read Rainamoinen’s writings. Can you hear them? Can you hear the author here? It doesn't matter if you know these people: if you read three of any of their blogs you will start to hear a voice coming through - you'll begin to know who they are by what they say and how they say it. Jack sounds businesslike to me when he's writing a blog (please note that Jack is a man who will open our meetings by saying "Alright Motherfuckers, what are we doing today?"), but he sounds resignedly whimsical in his poems; someone who is tired of wonder but wonders nonetheless. Leena has a delightful wit, almost as sharp as the sadness frequently found in her writing – she is more consistent in different styles than Jack is, maintaining a very precise diction that balances artfully on the edge of juvenile joy and cutting maturity. Nick writes in questions, even when he writes in statements, asking with his poetry and prose “What is this world we’re in? Isn’t it grand? Isn’t it large and lovely? Aren’t you happy to see it?” – Nick’s writing is full of gentle cheer, warming his readers with its comfort and peace. Slick is a card – hard and churlish and jutting in direct, entendre riddled phrases and sly thrusts of jest. He writes like he wants you to think he fucks: each piece is a fun and sometimes-sloppy romp, to the point but never forgetting that reading is for pleasure. Rainamoinen is a budding rhetorician; he guides his readers neatly to the edge of a tall, stark cliff and happily drops them off, letting them land precisely where he intended. There is a charming contempt in his voice – he writes simply and elegantly, as if it doesn’t matter to him whether you read his work or not, but he’s well aware that you read it anyway. And if you’ve been reading this Writing Toolkit series for any length of time you’ve probably noticed that my voice is somewhat schizophrenic – to quote my own poetry (as any good schizophrenic should) “I’m a casual cynic who prays for optimists, but it’s hard for me to be one when I’m talking with my fists.” I want joy and wonder and sadness and comfort in my writing (humor too, if I can get it,) but I also want to make my point brutally, unmissably obvious (sometimes in the bitchiest way imaginable.) Now think of the Big Names – the writers we all know. How do you know you’re hearing Shakespeare? How can you identify Dickens at a glance? What is it about Emily Dickinson that shrieks out of her poems and declares “I AM EMILY!”? Some of it is style – Dickinson poems are pretty easy to visually identify and if you’re looking at Early Modern English iambic pentameter there’s very little chance that you’re reading anyone BUT Shakespeare. Dickens can be spotted by density alone. But what we read in the authors we love is voice – Shakespeare’s lazy attitude about proper word usage and correct grammar created a unique sound that caught the ears of audiences, creating mnemonics for concepts that other authors had explored but never defined. Dickens’ intense descriptions reshaped the way that novels were written. Dickinson’s disregard for accepted forms and heavy use of atypical rhyme sticks, disjointed, in our minds and helps us remember that it can matter when a bird comes down the path. It is the voice in an author’s writing that speaks to us – that’s why it’s called VOICE. We hear authors in our heads and so novels and poems become conversations, we know these writers as friends because we hear their warmth and sorrow and joy and love in the way they speak to us. Voice is the most important part of a writer’s repertoire because it is what makes an impression on readers. So write like you mean it, write like every paragraph and stanza is a speech, or wedding vows, or a eulogy, because everything you write IS a speech, wedding vows, and eulogy to your subject, your readers, and yourself. Good writing becomes permanent eventually, great writing is immediately indelible. I’ll be back in two weeks with more on voice and how to assert your voice in writing. After that we’ll be back with character voice and separating what your characters say from what you mean. Speak well, Cheers, - Alli

Not a Pot to Piss in or a Window to Throw it Outta!

Good evening everyone, I hope you are enjoying the rousing discussions which have been so thoughtfully prepared by all of us here at the AFLM family. Now, I have promised you concision, and in the spirit of faithfulness I am going to make sure I give you concision. And as furthering this enjoyable, yet admittedly gratuitous, introduction belies this promise, I will, now, simply vault into the matter at hand.

I was having a discussion with a friend today about writing and publishing (go figure) and he asked me whether it would be more advantageous for his career to write something widely marketable and pleasing instead of what most English majors aspire to write, the MAGNUM OPUS OF ARTISTIC ENDEAVOR! We discussed this for the better part of two hours, volleying back and forth the pros and cons of each potential decision and ended up lousy with hypotheticals. And that is why this question has made it to all of you good people. If a writer was to write something mass-marketable and tasty, as it were, which would lend to a higher chance of publication into novel, screenplay, etc., equaling a great deal of money on his part, is it artistically ethical to do so, or should this person continue to try and sell his esoteric opus? I think it is something interesting to think about, if only for the "thought experiment" nature of it. Now, understand that when I say "mass-marketable", I mean blithering trash. Also, I know some of you will say, can't the two be accomplished as one? Can't art be mass-marketable? Well, seeing as certain seemingly erroneous circumstances make it impossible to give a definitive no, I will say its not likely. Be honest with yourself, as much as you may love Ulysses, Song of Myself, As I Lay Dying, or The Decameron, these works will never be as grotesquely profitable as . . . dare I say it . . . Twilight, or any other revolting heap of worthlessness your mind can dredge up which would serve as ample example of a sideshow monstrosity which has garnered way too much profit for its putrid, hell hound charlatan of an "author."

So, there you have it, my thought provoking gift to you. I hope everyone gives this some thought, or, perhaps, if you are reading this, stunned by its elementary nature, please be so kind as to respond and educate the rest of us.

Thoughtfully,

Eric W. Strege