The Trackless Path

It occurs to me that perhaps

I will do more by praise

Than ever I could

By precept.

In my life, currently, it appears that

The work that will yield immediate reward 

Is more difficult and pays less,

Whereas the projects that promise long-term 

And more substantial gains

Require less of my already limited physical strength

And more mental stamina, more patience, more persistence,

But with a larger payoff if I can forestall immediate gratification.

So it seems that the task in front of me, once again is faith -

To work at things that don’t pay right away

And to believe that my daily bread 

Will be supplied in the meantime.

When a problem perplexes you,

Clear your mind of it and relax completely.

To do this, you may need to lie down.

Take some time. Make sure to let everything go,

Including the problem itself, especially the problem itself.

I say let go, but of course, it’s there in the background, 

As if your subconscious holds it by a flaxen thread.

Then listen for anything that seems obvious.

Often we are not looking for a new insight.

We are searching for what we already know but cannot find.

And so it’s kind of like noticing something that was already there

But that you couldn’t hear for the noise.

I do not have as much drive as I once did.

A little work is enough for me.

After that,

Something begins to shut down

Because the soul has asserted itself,

And it claims more 

Of the bits and pieces of my time 

That I once paid for a seat

On the Rocket Ship of Life.

In short, my one-way ticket to the stars

Has been exchanged for a seat 

In the slow boat that drifts 

Down the lazy lagoon,

Because that is all I can handle

Which makes me poor at life for now

And rich in other lifely light.

And that is right for me,

So right,

And I am grateful.

But know this, 

That there are unseen treasures

In the depths of the slow.

There are pearls

In the lagoon.

So don’t be surprised 

When I rise with gold glistening.

I am surprised at how deep it goes.

Just when I think that I can’t leave the tension,

I find it in that state that comes just before sleep

When I am still awake, but my mind has already begun

To dip into the place of dreams.

Things get clear there,

And my soul finds peace and promise.

I am amazed at the change I feel

When I quiet down enough to hear. 

I have begun to make it a practice

To stop and take a quarter-hour or more 

In complete silence and relaxation

Before I begin an endeavor or make a decision.

And I am amazed at the clarity that comes

And the peace and encouragement I feel.

It makes me want to find that frame of mind more often.

I went off the road today

And dipped into the state trust lands

For a place to camp just outside of Tombstone,

Town of infamous report turned tourist trap.

But I like it - the little shops selling this and that,

The dusty street where they tore up the asphalt 

To make it seem more real - and it worked.

I can’t afford their trappings 

Nor their fare or lodgings.

But I don’t care.

I sit in my box truck,

A few miles out of town

And watch the sunset in perfect silence

As I eat macaroni and cheese I got for free

Because it was all I could afford. 

And tomorrow, I will sell my wares if they’ll have them, 

And offer to wash their windows if they’re dirty,

And soak in the people passing by

And be grateful to share in their vacation.

Step by step it unfurls,

The simplicity of a new economy,

More slow, more simple, more abundant,

Allowing us to relax into the more important things of life.

And it begins by looking close, not far away.

It is nurtured in the fertile soil 

Of gratitude and faith,

And best of all,

It rounces 

The trappings of debt.

I see, a few generations off,

A generation of simple people

Around whom springs every needful thing.

And their principal work is praise.

Nearly two miles high it rises 

Into the sky above the desert valley.

And by night, it blew a hurricane, a monsoon,

A late winter rain mingled with snow,

So strange. 

And I crouched low within my sleeping bag

And plugged my ears from the thunder

As Joey ducked for cover.

A late winter rain mingled with snow,

And the mountain shakes its shoulders 

In the white draped frock it dons,

Showing what it can do

Before the desert sun 

Chases it back into submission.

An abandoned theatre,

One, Two, Three Cinemas,

But not enough for the buzzing crowds.

They have moved on to busier venues.

And as they move out, I move in,

Into the parking lot at least.

And we sell our wares.

We wash the windows left behind

For the poor folk that rent in the dilapidated part of town.

How I love abandoned, broken, things.

How I love the fertile soil

From which springs

Abundance,

And not the type

That demands your soul,

The abundance that falls into your lap for a song.