ruminations III

I am a strong knifeblade word,
not some if or maybe,
dissolving in air.

Am I that word? Are you?

This is the language I want to speak. It’s the language Jesus’ spoke. Apparently, Rumi knew something of it, too. He calls it the language of the Lover, I think he is correct.

Let the lover be disgraceful, crazy,
absentminded. Someone sober
will worry about things going badly.
Let the lover be.

Yes, that’s the business Jesus was about—being. He had little tolerance for self-important sobriety. He said YES, and it was so. He said NO, and it was complete. Jesus never says if or maybe. A lover truly loves when he forgoes the convenience of maybe and if, and says Amen and Never.

There is nothing compassionate or loving in the idea of tolerance. Tolerance is dignified religion; the logic of self-preservation. Love and Hope and Faith forgo these trifles for a higher cause, the disgrace of self-sacrifice and desire.

[Jesus] looked them in the eye, one after another, angry now, furious at their hard-nosed religion. He said to the man [with a withered hand], “Hold out your hand.” He held it out—it was as good as new!

I don’t want to fiddle around with the niceties of religion. I don’t want to succumb to the seduction of ease and routine, and the self-importance of duty. I want to be disgraceful and crazy that I actually love Craig across the street, and Kerry in a wheel chair a mile down the road. It’s so grand to love humanity, and so dirty to love one’s neighbor, but what shall I accomplish with so-called love for humanity and big ideas? I will gain a friend, share and create life; I will gain the world when I love my neighbor in the drunkenness of today, tomorrow, and the possession of moments.