Freedom to Think

wisdom

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I AM GOING TO WRITE A FEW WORDS ABOUT WISDOM. I THINK PERHAPS AT A LITTLE PAST 50 I MAY JUST BE WANDERING IN THE LOW FOOTHILLS OF TRUE WISDOM, BUT I LEARN I GUESS THAT THERE ARE DEEP WELLS OF WISDOM ALL AROUND US, DEEP WELLS THAT ARE INVITING, THAT WE CAN TAP INTO, BUT THAT VERY OFTEN WE ARE TAUGHT IN OUR RUSH RUSH, HURRY HURRY WORLD TO TURN AWAY FROM.

THESE DAYS WHEN I THINK OF WISDOM I PICTURE A DEEP EARTHENWARE BOWL AND A LADLE. I GUESS TO LEARN AND KNOW THAT THERE ARE THOSE WHO WOULD DIP INTO THAT BOWL AND WILLINGLY SHARE ITS CONTENTS HAS BEEN A REVELATION TO ME, AND I HOPE HELPS ME TO GROW.

WE ALL HAVE WISDOM, BUT I THINK THE AXIOM OF ONE PERSONS WISDOM HAS BEEN FLAWED, AT LEAST IN THE WEST, BY OUR ATTITUDE TO, AND FEAR OF, GROWING OLD........

TIS STRANGE TO ME THAT SO FEW PEOPLE I HAVE KNOWN TRULY VENERATE OUR ELDERS, TRUTHFULLY ACKNOWLEDGE THAT THEY HAVE A WISDOM OF EXPERIENCE THAT HAS PUSHED EACH UPON A SINGULAR JOURNEY UP THE SLOPES OF LEARNING TO THAT INDIVIDUAL WISDOM THAT IS THE PRIZE FOR US ALL.

I HAVE ALSO SEEN I THINK EVIDENCE THAT A GOOD MANY PEOPLE GROW OLDER AND EARN WISDOM AT A PRICE THEY DEEM BITTER; AND SO OFTENTIMES STANDING AT THE DOORWAY TO WISDOM, OFT EARNED THROUGH PAIN, THEY TURN AWAY, SUGGESTING THAT THE CONTENTS OF THEIR OWN EARTHENWARE BOWL MAY BE BITTER TO THE PALATE.

I STRONGLY URGE THAT TIS A GOOD AND HONOURING THING TO SEEK THE SENSE IN THOSE THAT HAVE JOURNEYED BEFORE US, THEY ARE INEVITABLY FURTHER UP THE MOUNTAIN, AND EVEN THE MOST BASE FOOLISHNESS IS I THINK JUST AN OPPORTUNITY TO LEARN AND TO GROW.........

wisdom1

Tis just my thinking mixed with a little fun

WISDOM The saline solution abrades us with committee, Thoughts drip drip daily, pithy and rye Waiting for change that never comes freely, Looking for the right cloud, in a cold grey sky The one true path neon clear in the fog, Every soul turned aside, stuck in damp bog Reason and rationale, season and passion now Lesions and legions, and pain, pain oh how….. The answer at the bottom, did you score ten from ten? The slain committee in your head, your guide once again. Thorn birds in a hedgerow chirping all day, ‘I seen a house fly’ and the like they mumble away The spikiest choice I pray is the one to let go, To look up at the sun and surrender all I know. Let go all the clouds, let sky be grey or blue And maybe, just maybe I will find you What then of the finding, what comes after Risen so high now floating in the rafters Learning so hard to just defeat the day Finding even wisdom won’t keep routine at bay. The yogi leaves his mat, the master ceases prayer, A sight to behold as they remain in this world’s care Visions of true learning, the ceasing of such yearning, The path beyond restraint laid bare by love deep and burning....