Archive
Alternative Facts?
We must remain vigilant and test everything and anything coming out of the White House. Don’t be deceived. Stay awake. Shine your light. And as William Stafford wrote in his poem: “A Ritual to Read to Each Other” —
“For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give — yes or no, or maybe —
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.”
Let’s keep the signals very clear!
Here’s my response to #alternativefacts:
Alternative Facts
Do facts alternate?
Are they sometimes true, sometimes false?
Are they bits in a computer,
Sometimes zero, sometimes one?
Facts can evolve.
Humans are learning creatures;
This makes facts always relative,
Ever changing as we grow.
And sometimes facts can flip,
Like from zero to one.
Science is like this:
Old theory disproved, new theory proposed.
But it is rare for facts to flip, flop, flip.
They are not bits in a computer to turn off and on.
Alternative facts are devolutionary;
They take us back to old “facts” disproved.
©2017 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
Inauguration Day Thoughts
Not so many words, just thoughts, and feelings:
Transfer of Power
The motor fires, turns, idles;
Yet there is no movement, no action
Until the transmission engages
To transfer power to the axles.
The wind blows, spins blades;
Yet there is no change, no traction
Until the mill turns generators
To transfer power to the grids.
The tides heave, ebb, return:
Yet there is no launch, no sail
Until the turn from full, to flow
To transfer power to the ships.
The trees stand, grow, clear air:
Yet there is no transition, production
Until the axe clear-cuts for lumber
To transfer power to building.
The government pauses, idles:
And there is no action, no change
Until the constitution orchestrates
To transfer power to the chief.
Fire, Wind, Water, Wood all transform.
Power is transferred into the Earth.
Chiefs go and chiefs return, no change.
The transfer of power remains.
©2017 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
A poem for a rainy day: Inner Practice
It is a dreary day here in Maryland. It is dark and gloomy with rain coming down steadily. It is a good day to practice!
Inner Practice
The breath begins with emptiness.
The inner curve of the belly
Is a waiting, a pause,
An anticipation of the new.
The breath proceeds with a rise.
The curve of the belly fills with
An action, expansion;
Excitement lifts on an inner note.
The breath rises on its inner path.
The spine straightens and lengthens,
Action peaking, seeking the crown,
Expanding outward and upward, reaching.
The breath follows the inner curve.
The skull bone directs its passage,
Downward through the hollows of the face,
Ending in the empty space guarded by teeth.
The breath remains in this inner space.
This is a waiting, a pause.
Inaction holding, resting in peace,
A suspension of the doing – just being.
The breath descends from its quiet rest.
The inner curve of the chest opens
With soft action, a contraction,
A sinking downward and inward.
The breath expels what no longer serves.
The inner curve of the belly forms,
Compressing, flattening, sending out
The last of the used, the spent, the old.
The breath ends in emptiness,
The inner curve of the belly restored.
Resting, contemplating, anticipating
The inner practice of breathing.
©2017 Richard W. Bredeson. All rights reserved.
Men and The Goddess 