Pink & Green: For Love, & for Eco-care, & for People-care, & for equal rights everywhere…

Made this yin-yang meme today (using MS Paint & Word), triggered by the latest Australian Greens kerfuffle… (Green is not Pink, Pink is not Green, but unless they embrace each other so, I see little hope for either, or for any of us & our descendants).

pg yinyang meme

WORDS & MATTER / & NO MATTER (a gleaning, from 1988(?), & a meme, from today

words matter meme.jpg


Words are things, as material things are things; words can be objects, of our thoughts or our actions, as can material things, but whatever matter is, words are not matter. You could say, like numbers, but numbers are also words, a certain kind or class of words. Like thoughts, then? Thoughts are immaterial, but in a different way: every thought is, unique, it passes through the mind and is gone, if it comes again, as a memory, it is part of a new thought, or if you think the same thought at a different time and recognize it, it’s still another thought though its content seems the same. And thoughts are composed of words. You might have a non-verbal thought, but you mightn’t call it a thought, and when you do you use words. Thoughts also involve action, and so material things like electricity and chemicals in the brain are part of the process of thinking.

Words are like works of art, though also not like them. People say words are signs, but they can be more than signs, and can also not be signs. Every word was once invented by someone, whether as a sign or something else, and that invention is always a creation like a work of art. And if you say you don’t use works of art as you do words, think again, because there’s a sense in which you do, and artworks do too when they quote other artworks.

But you don’t ordinarily just contemplate a word like you do an artwork, and that’s the major difference: the artwork was created for contemplation, the word was generally intended for communication. And when a word was created for contemplation, it was no longer just a word, it was an artwork, a poem, or a mantra, which are other immaterial things in the world apart from words, but are also dependent on words. Even the most non-verbal humanly produced artifact, even if created by a deaf-mute never exposed to words who produces it by imitation, was once thought of and planned and brought to execution and public sharing by the mediation of words. And to this day no artist who is not spoken and written about in words can expect to be known as an artist.

So what is not material in our reality is dependent on words for our recognition and our relating to it. Words themselves do not invent all that is immaterial: the musician composes or plays, the sculptor and painter make forms and like the poet but without words, images; the dancer dances. What matter words?

But then, all that is material in our reality we relate to through words. Or the words are the accompaniment to the music of our perceptions and sensations and emotions, we use the words to organize or to believe we organize these experiences. What do words matter?

The words we have, and the ways we have of putting words together create the parameters of the reality we can relate to and the ways we have of relating to it. In optics, it is apparently known that because of the lattice-work of blood-vessels that veils our sight, we actually see perhaps 5% of what there is to be seen, and we put together a whole picture with our imaginations, and we believe that picture is what is there to be seen. That may be what we do with what we think we know through words.

The word is neither the written sign or the spoken sound. We write it, we speak it, but what we write is not it. We can’t use it up. It? I write its sign, you read its sign, but where is it?

The word, all the words there are so far, all those I know and those I don’t know, some of which I might learn and some of which never, are always “there”, and also “here” in my mind as long as I’ll be around. The words are untouched by my use of them, I think, but that needn’t be so. Perhaps I work a subtle change in the scent of each.

As words, all words are equal. There seems to be no single word that is radically primal, so one could say that all words, and the very existence of words and such, derive from it. If there is or ever was a language that began out of someone simultaneously speaking and inventing a single word and someone else hearing it and understanding it as what it was, that word is unknown. There are radical words, that a number of words may derive from. Like in English you have words made from radicals with prefixes or suffixes. Have you ever thought of all the words that are made by putting prefixes before -cept or -ceive or -ception, or before -vert or -verse or -version?

No matter, words matter.

From 1987: “OKK” [Some poetry gleaned while Collating Smatterings of Memoirings (2)]

Thirty years ago, give or take a couple of months, I wrote these lines, with their exaggerated miscalculations of the speed of what was already then known to be happening . . .
Sydney’s still here, so are the other places, so far so good, thank goodness, but also so far not so good with regard to what’s still happening  …

okk meme

Some poetry gleaned while Collating Smatterings of Memoirings (2) / From 1987: GOOD BE WITH YOU …

When I imagined, made, & posted the ‘for / the good of all /& for / the goodness in all’ this morning, I had no memory at all of this piece (of which there is more in the file I copied this from)!


Some poetry gleaned while Collating Smatterings of Memoirings (1) / From 1987: “For Nitza”

spg from1987


“What’s this? A poem?
“You’re working much too hard.”
“This isn’t work, it’s poetry.”
“I hope you’re writing about me.”
“Not tonight, my dear.
“Well, now you’ve asked, maybe I will.”

Thank you for the hot tea on your way to bed thank you for
my electric blanket thank you for being there, loving,

mother dove
girlfriend love

you know: though all my memories
of scenes do blank
this I joyingly know

you are around me inside me beside me
also when I don’t remember


soft crystal
warm diamond
earth of my tree, tree of my earth
tho not
sea of my sky, nor sky of my sea

for my sea is humanity & my sky is its sky
as they’re yours,

in this cell
of the world to come.


let me tell you about the world to come let me
the world to come is the world that’s coming
now. Ev
ry now.
It star
ts with
& not
looking                        here
back in                        we’re
anger or
in angst
or seek
ing the A
lpha or O
mega. It
begins with the closed beginning open ended B_e_t_h of B_e_r_e_i_s_h_i_t_h_, G_e_n_e_s_i_s
which we’ve turned around, heading east as the earth rolls
westward, ho!

is where

going into
the world
that’s coming

& that’s all
I want to say
about it

for / the good of all /& for / the goodness in all

4thegood meme

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What this came from: while (in bed before sleep) remembering two of a set of four lines I learned from an erstwhile mentor, E.J. Gold (via his books) & during an early period in this bed in this room in the hills outside Mullum (we moved here in 2002) & used to repeat before sleep: “For the sake of all beings everywhere”, & “To relieve the suffering of the Absolute”, these lines came.

& what do I know? well, while I can’t say I believe that silently sending one’s good-willing energy “out there” can make a difference, as some people say prayers can, I also can’t say I believe that it can’t — & it certainly can’t do any harm. & it makes me feel good… & that’s good too…