Readings from Walt Whitman, Christianity, Buddhism, Tao te Ching, discussion of 60s, Karoac, poverty
posted by Todd Park Mohr at
12:34 PM
Thursday, September 08, 2005
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4 Comments:
Todd:
Thank you. I feel cleansed, if that makes sense.
I'm glad. I know this is a dense episode, with a lot of readings, but I enjoy hearing the "song" or "poem" of Flower philosophy. It's like standing under a waterfall, and I'm struck by new and refreshing thoughts at every listening.
I appreciate your ability to articulate ideas from many different faiths. I also appreciate your ability to put together a podcast such a the one on pessimism with its darker overtones and then turn around and post something in such contrast as the flower philosophy.
I particularly enjoyed the story of "The Sower" and the quote from Jesus about living in the moment.
Can you clarify something for me though? I am a little hesitant however to use the word knowledge. I believe that word is a little over-used, probably because one of my first exercises in philosophy were on the hierarchy of knowledge. Unless we are talking about knowledge of our own mental life, our own experiences, I generally tend to stay away from using it.
Enough rambling... You said that something to the effect of “not all of the past is lost…the parts that stick is knowledge.” What part are you referring to?
To reflect on Robert's question, I would venture to say that the “parts that stick” encompass the grounded, almost instinctive sort of knowledge that comes from our experience as individuals, that of those who came before us, and as living creatures in general. All is one.
I love Whitman. I wept listening to the beginning of this podcast on my way to work this morning. Don’t feel bad. Whitman, for me, is a deep, satisfying breath.
More refreshment:
ROOTS AND LEAVES THEMSELVES ALONE
Walt Whitman
Roots and leaves themselves alone are these,
Scents brought to men and women from the wild woods and pond-side,
Breast-sorrel and pinks of love, fingers that wind around tighter than vines,
Gushes from the throats of birds hid in the foliage of trees as the sun is risen,
Breezes of land and love set from living shores to you on the living sea, to you O sailors!
Frost-mellow'd berries and Third-month twigs offer'd fresh to young persons wandering out in the fields when the winter breaks up,
Love-buds put before you and within you whoever you are,
Buds to be unfolded on the old terms,
If you bring the warmth of the sun to them they will open and bring form, color, perfume, to you,
If you become the aliment and the wet they will become flowers, fruits, tall branches and trees.
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