Tell All the Truth

If you See the Jesus on the Road:
Kill Him.

Don't be postponing joy & don't be
looking at him straight-on, but rather
side-wise & slant, corner of the I:
success in circumlocution lies.

"The suggestion I'd like to advance
is that what is important for avoiding
dissonances, which are the result of
imperfect perception, is a constant
shift in the way we perceive...it is
necessary that we continually shift
our [I's]; if these movements are in
some way inhibited, our vision becomes
impaired. It is by changing the vantage
point, changing the perspective, that
we avoid perceptual dissonances...
We need to know the basis for
developing a willingness -- indeed
a need--for reappraising goals and
attitudes"

(Peter Klopfer, author of Habitats and Territories,
& Behavioral Aspects of Ecology)

I need to see my
self as a part of
the system
like an actor
turned director
who will discipline
my wish to steal
the show, or a
monkey turned
Jane Goodall
who will look
& look & look
& find it all very
interesting, very
good. (me: elaborating on Barry Commoner)

The CURE Could be
Worse than the Curse

"My worry was simply in terms
of the difficulty of suggesting
Corrective Measures, since,
if these were devised with the
same conceptual limitations as
the original limitations, they would
probably produce similar
pathologies.

Even if the necessary, positive,
corrective measures were known,
it would be impossible to advocate
them in the oversimplified rhetoric
of public debate. I find this still:
that in a brief discussion of some
ecological issues I often can
counsel only non-intervention.

It will take many,
many people,
thinking in a
new way,
to evolve
an effective
positive concern
forthe environment,
to replace a hap-
hazard plugging
of holes in the dike.

In order to do this
[we] will have to
share a new style
of thought.

MC Bateson quoting
her father, Gregory,
in 1969)

"Heaven on Earth"
by Kristin Berkey-Abbott from,
Whistling Past the Graveyard.
© Pudding House Publications, 2004.

I saw Jesus at the bowling alley,
slinging nothing but gutter balls.
He said, "You've gotta love a hobby
that allows ugly shoes." He lit a cigarette
and bought me a beer. So I invited him to dinner.

I knew the Lord couldn't see my house
in its current condition, so I gave it an out
of season spring cleaning. What to serve
for dinner? Fish—the logical choice, but
after 2000 years, he must grow weary
of everyone's favorite seafood dishes.
I thought of my Granny's ham with Coca Cola
glaze, but you can't serve that to a Jewish
boy. Likewise pizza—all my favorite
toppings involve pork.

In the end, I made us an all-dessert buffet.
We played Scrabble and Uno and Yahtzee
and listened to Bill Monroe. Jesus has a
healthy appetite for sweets, I'm happy to report.
He told strange stories which I've puzzled over
for days now.

We've got an appointment for golf on Wednesday.
Ordinarily I don't play, and certainly not in this humidity.
But the Lord says he knows a grand miniature golf course
with fiberglass mermaids and working windmills and the
best homemade ice cream you ever tasted.
Sounds like Heaven to me.