weighing in

Time to weigh in, given such
surfacing substance, by way of
so many earthy outpourings

just where YOU comin’ out, jim?
i hear you asking
i hear me asking

yes, scribbler of little hesitation
tell us how it really is,
señor ernesto evrimon

all this dawning
from earned enlightenments
of underway lineup, these eco-prereqs

sunrise over the st johns, sanford, florida 9/21/11

ok, so dazzling eurekas of global import
but what lights up here at home re:
your sad beleaguered brite blue mom?

maybe time to confess
( old tradition, comes easy )
well then, i can at least own up

check it out dear reader
either of us yet rid ourselves
of one of those cars?

or even drive them somewhat less?
or even think to turn off the a/c?
or sometimes take the slow lane?

let’s face it
we’re formed here
here’s how we live

so what’s it gonna take now that
both of us know well what’s coming
… asking yourself something familiar?

you with me, friend?

o i’ve the best of excuses myself
bet you do too
shall we compare … ?

where’s any public alternative?
besides, open air’s much too noisy
and right now i’m in a hurry

not to mention, just this side of
3/4-century mark i’m entitled
damn well fully earned it by now

and this old house older even than me
never did get the insulation it needs
how’s soc security to pay for that?

move to another place you say?
hey, i’m planning to die here
. . . shall i keep going?

got kids? can hear you too
uproot kit & kaboodle?
you must be kidding

and so our very survival’s dumped
once again down to very last place
in bulging list of what’s daily to do

while grim reality of goodbye gaia
creeps up on us sure, no matter
learnéd warnings & evidence galore

this gets weary. still with me pal?

one thing of mine long a-pestering:
sealed in here, windows all rolled up
life out there’s become IRRELEVANT

no wonder this crisis all-of-a-sudden
i’m out-of-touch, lost sensitivity
can’t tell smell of storm-on-the-way

not so my cat- like his wild cousins
first to escape the oncoming cyclone
don’t laugh- ask abby the weather!

closer by far, yon eons of touch, that
native knowing and learning and
passing along, respectful & balanced

a way of living now gradually going for
encircling family much more immediate
trading it in for something of MINE?

still, ask any person we call aborigine
even farmer -you remember farmer-
just listen what you get back …

“things are not as once they were!”
yet on march we as if no change
look: sun’s coming up, projects press,

and yes, i gotta go, i’m in a hurry!
cut back to global, the picture-in-full
if how we live that’s got us here

then what’s to do different? could
marx after all have had it right?
“FROM each according to ability

balanced by TO according to need”
current reading now takes me there

with startling finale in fine crystal ball
( more on that in a coming posting )
does have this one cold warrior thinking

. . . aside from just who it is
doing the from-&-to, i’d much rather
GIFTS for that hard-edged ABILITY

helping our kids side up to their niche
but that old contest now long past
how ever’d we get off

living & breathing market has won!
well we’re sure paying for it now
our turn to fold from cold war of old

and this dear reader’s where i stop
left on my own i’m still in the woods
our way out? best keep on reading

and let’s keep meeting
at the rock in this place, ’cause
gilding, hertsgaard, mckibben & gore

agree: no matter harm already done
once awoken and made up our minds
we can do this thing

life resurrected
on orb we call

~ jim rucquoi

( posted by chance day following
major upheaval in human climate
centering in the state of georgia, USA )


the view from lazy point . . .

. . . A natural year in an unnatural world

when i consider what’s happening to our planet
i’m left mostly powerless: what the hell can i do?

the one that runs right under his nose
to begin with it aint the whole planet that tugs at me
what’s going on right here?

lazy point, long island

right here happens to be just this side of a sand dune
on long island’s north shore close to its remote tip
what he sees there is a world of life & change

and from that windswept hermitage he takes it all in
month by month, truth by truth
little chance for what the rest of us call reality

the man knows his wildlife friends, how they’re called
where they’re coming from, where headed
season by season, migration by migration

tapestry of movement & struggle
gurgling seabrook, moody skysong, life as lived
as only cousins on the wing can tell it

seen this close up, yes mother earth’s pure poem
carl’s writing does the moment justice throughout
listen . . .

Fishing in a place is a meditation on the rhythm of a tide, a season, the arc of a year, and the seasons of a life. The more repetitive, the better, because the experience is like a wheel that – by going around and around as though doing the same thing – continually covers new ground, bringing you to a very different place.  (p 112)

if those meditations of the life pulsing around him were all he wrote
those alone would make reading THE VIEW worth the reflection
but that peace & clarity bring him much farther

we stand to lose it all . . .

When it would have mattered, no one ever said, “Thou shall not pollute.” Now that it’s an issue, our wisdom traditions, and our economic system, lack adequate moral language to address it and the ethical consensus to deal with it. And because we’re not really in control of the vehicle we’re driving, the world is entering a truly new time.”  (p 79)

my ipad’s colored yellow w/ carl’s lessons to be learned
so again, if those lessons were all he wrote
those would make the book definitely worth the reading

in the end carl’s book is nothing less than spiritual revelation
his long windup to the final page bringing such tears of recognition
i had to run next door, read it fresh to adele

here is life pulsing at its most authentic & cosmic
the way the most gifted if not outright holiest of our mystics see it
the way teillard de chardin saw it himself  ( PHENOMENON OF MAN )

listen again . . .

We are self-assembled stardust aware of the universe and the future. Energy that had been headed across the eternal, infinite vacuum of space is at this moment running the thought machine that is the breathing you. We are one knot in a great web of being, building out of the vast past and ( with luck ) continuing billions of years into the future, until the sun dies, the last of its energy reaches Earth, and our local light goes out. The most appropriate response to the world is to realize, with awe, the ferocious mystery of being alive in it. And act accordingly. The worst thing anyone should be able to say about their life is also the greatest thing anyone can say: “I tried my best”.  (p  358)

lazy point long island / photo by mira alamy / national geographic traveler