Poetry Journal Monthly
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I love this poem by Alison Luterman.
I first heard this poem read to me during a silent retreat(the teachers give dharma talks, yogis listen).
Jesus Incognito
Don’t tell anyone, but I love Jesus.
I love his big dark Jewish eyes, so full of suffering soul,
like an unemployed poet’s, and his thick sensuous Jewish lips,
and his kinky curly hair, just like mine, uncontrollable despite conditioners,
and the way he always argues with everyone
and will go to hell for love.
He’s just like that Buddhist god Avalokiteshvara, the bodhisattva of compassion,
except his name is easier to pronounce.
When you’re in trouble it’s hard to remember to yell for Avalokiteshvara,
but “Oh Jesus!” arises naturally
every time a crazy driver hot-dogs past me on the freeway.
I know I should say the Shema when I’m about to die,
but will I be able to remember Hebrew at a time like that?
I don’t want to die saying “Oh shit!”
I’d like to leave my body consciously, like a Tibetan lama, sitting in full lotus
with my head turned toward where I’ll reincarnate next.
But let’s be realistic: I probably couldn’t meditate enough to become enlightened
in the however-many years I have left.
Jesus seems easier. All you have to do is love everyone.
Well, seems is the key word here.
Sometimes the more you try
to love people, the more you hate them.
Maybe it would be better to try
not to love people, and then watch the love
force its way out of you like grass through cement.
Anything is better than organized religion.
I don’t like the singing in churches — all those hymns in major keys.
I don’t think religion should sound so triumphant.
It should be humble and aware of the basic incurable pathos of the human condition,
and in a minor key and sung in a mysterious ancient language, like Sanskrit or Hebrew.
Is it OK for me to love Jesus but not be Christian?
I could try to open my heart and give away all my possessions.
It’s not that different from being Buddhist, after all, except for a history
of witch burnings, the Inquisition, the subjugation,
rape, and pillage of indigenous peoples all over the world,
not to mention twenty centuries of vicious antisemitism. That’s a lot to overlook
to get back to a baby born among animals to a Jewish mother, Miryam.
And what about that other Mary, the sexy one? Jesus, I don’t believe you died a virgin.
I think you needed to taste everything human, to inhabit the whole mess:
blood, shit, flies, regret, envy, why-me.
I owe you and all the other bodhisattvas and sages
and newborn babies a debt of thanks
for agreeing to come back and marry yourselves
to our painful predicament again and again —
and I do thank you, bowing to the infinite directions.
I love his big dark Jewish eyes, so full of suffering soul,
like an unemployed poet’s, and his thick sensuous Jewish lips,
and his kinky curly hair, just like mine, uncontrollable despite conditioners,
and the way he always argues with everyone
and will go to hell for love.
He’s just like that Buddhist god Avalokiteshvara, the bodhisattva of compassion,
except his name is easier to pronounce.
When you’re in trouble it’s hard to remember to yell for Avalokiteshvara,
but “Oh Jesus!” arises naturally
every time a crazy driver hot-dogs past me on the freeway.
I know I should say the Shema when I’m about to die,
but will I be able to remember Hebrew at a time like that?
I don’t want to die saying “Oh shit!”
I’d like to leave my body consciously, like a Tibetan lama, sitting in full lotus
with my head turned toward where I’ll reincarnate next.
But let’s be realistic: I probably couldn’t meditate enough to become enlightened
in the however-many years I have left.
Jesus seems easier. All you have to do is love everyone.
Well, seems is the key word here.
Sometimes the more you try
to love people, the more you hate them.
Maybe it would be better to try
not to love people, and then watch the love
force its way out of you like grass through cement.
Anything is better than organized religion.
I don’t like the singing in churches — all those hymns in major keys.
I don’t think religion should sound so triumphant.
It should be humble and aware of the basic incurable pathos of the human condition,
and in a minor key and sung in a mysterious ancient language, like Sanskrit or Hebrew.
Is it OK for me to love Jesus but not be Christian?
I could try to open my heart and give away all my possessions.
It’s not that different from being Buddhist, after all, except for a history
of witch burnings, the Inquisition, the subjugation,
rape, and pillage of indigenous peoples all over the world,
not to mention twenty centuries of vicious antisemitism. That’s a lot to overlook
to get back to a baby born among animals to a Jewish mother, Miryam.
And what about that other Mary, the sexy one? Jesus, I don’t believe you died a virgin.
I think you needed to taste everything human, to inhabit the whole mess:
blood, shit, flies, regret, envy, why-me.
I owe you and all the other bodhisattvas and sages
and newborn babies a debt of thanks
for agreeing to come back and marry yourselves
to our painful predicament again and again —
and I do thank you, bowing to the infinite directions.
Please share your journaled poetry with me, using the links below.
I had a wonderful evening of fellowship with my friend Melissa and enjoyed our dinner together at the new Japanese place in Black Mountain.
I am going to say some good things and first I hope they read this and take this advice.
I am going to say some good things and first I hope they read this and take this advice.
Change the name. It's called Sake - Sushi and all anyone is going to call it with that name is,
"The new Japanese Place" and after awhile that will get old.
Get rid of the garish food photos in the windows, and open the place back up.
One of the reasons to eat here is the view, and those pix are just not Black Mountain!
Overall, the meal was ok, just verging on good.
The plate appeal was high.
Above is the avocado salad, mostly a bowl of iceberg lettuce, cukes and a dressing I cannot identify the ingredients, aside from something orange, sesame and too sweet.
Ask for it on the side.
Our other starters were Harumaki, a Japanese style veggie spring roll.
They were good.
I passed on the dipping sauce, not knowing what might be in it, i.e. food dye , sugar and fish paste.
Melissa had a noodle bowl. All of the veggies looked and tasted fresh. It had chicken in it so I didn't try it.
I asked for brown rice- a big plus that they offer it, and they gave us white.
The service was very attentive, and we were the only folks in the dining room.
All of the portions were very large and we both took enough home for another meal.
The menu calls this a veggie Bento box- no box!
Big bonus for asparagus in the tempura, which was hot, light and not greasy.
The tofu and veggies would have been excellent without the sauce which was way to sweet and gloppy.
The nori in the avocado roll was chewy- aside from that it was tasty.
The little dumplings were very good, light and pan fried just right.
I've had better and had worse.
I'll go back again.
All we drank was water so hop over to T is for Tuesday to see what fascinating beverages are being served around the world this week!
Comments and Questions Welcomed!
13 comments:
Your Asian inspired meal looks far better than the one I had on Saturday. I was assured I'd have veggies, and got chicken, instead. I offered it to my friend Sally, because I was not about to take it home with me.
Like you, I prefer brown rice. Too bad they didn't check to make sure you got what you ordered. The food mostly looked good, though.
Congrats to Beth on the Poetry Journal Monthly win. I'll be back later in the month with something. Not sure what, yet, because I'm busy trying to catch my breath after November's marathon.
This poem hit on so many fronts I am speechless. All of it speaks truth - how I imagine most of us think if only we take a moment in these crazed, hectic, moving faster than the wind times we live in. I certainly don't want to die saying "oh shit"!
Hugs,
Beth P
What a wonderful poem - love your page and all this yummie food looks so delicious!
Happy T-DAY Robyn!
xxx
Susi
Love the poem. The food is making me hungry as my chicken curry is cooking
lovely food thats making me hungry, great sketch and thoughtul poem that makes you think..I am an Unitarian so I like to have an open mind about Jesus and make my own kind of fatih
The food looks good. It's certainly pretty on the plate.
I can't imagine why any restaurant would obscure a view. I hope they open it back up.
Enjoyed the poem. The food looks good to me but of course looking and tasting are two different things. I like my bento in a bento box as well.
Darla
very thought-provoking poetry...and irresistible-looking food! happy T day!
Oh! You're mean! I'm starving now! Looks so good!
Hello and Happy T Day! The food looks good, I need to remember to eat before reading our T Day posts, makes me hungry. That poem was something, lots to think on.
Although it had issues your meal looked good! Thanks so much for sharing. I hope you have a fabulous T day! Hugs! deb
I've never been to one of those restaurants that serve sushi and such. My son and DIL love them. A lot of it looks quite alien to me--LOL! Happy belated T-Day! :)
That food looks so yummy! I love sushi. In fact I'll be making some on Friday night. I like the raw fish kind though...not just veggies. :)
Happy late T day!
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