Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Ash Wednesday (2.25.09)

RememberingLux Umbra Dei

Ash Wednesday
In the Dharma hall
Few words
Tell it all

Are you
Ashes now?
Bless your ashes
Anoint my brow

Am I
Your Dharma heir?
Sprinkle your ashes
Upon my hair

Ash Wednesday
In the Dharma hall
"No Question"
That is all

We may never know.



I mean this quite sincerely: of the many gifts in life I have received, "knowing" Lux is/was one of the greatest.
From "The Wind on Beartooth Plateau":
"I am weary, feeling my age multiplied by illness and responsibility, seeing the changes coming, and knowing how much distress they will cause some on the short term. But the Plateau endures and so shall our species; we are contemporaries after all, and all this tumult is so much wind, so many fleeting photons ghosting through the ringing air.
Obama shall surely win and become one of the greatest presidents this country has ever had. And simultaneously with our country's fall from haughty financial power, may come a new golden age where a great and lasting peace will be shared by all.
Such is my hope and prayer and I contemplate these things late nights as markets tremble in the balance, and the world waits to see what our choice will be, and the eternal winds blow the trees in my city park and those up on the plateau of all of our hopes."
Thank you, Lux, for words of benediction.
And thank you, TheraP, for honoring Lux. Wherever he may be, he is not forgotten.
I feel the same way. And the word "remembering" above links to the very post you quote.
This is a holy post. You understood.
In Nomine Patris, et Filiis, et Spiritu Sancte.
Spelling probably off. I got so mad, years ago at the RCC that I used to dip my finger in my ash tray on Ash Wednesday and cross my forehead. I aint so angry about it all anymore.
The cycle of life is reflected in all religious rights and more poetically, in my lowly opinion, in the oldest and largest religions.
Ashes to Ashes and Dust to Dust
The Sacred Rites
Become a must
They can shake us to the bone
In fear and awe we are struck
Without them we are alone
Lux's ashes could make saints of us all!
If you are unacquainted with T S Eliot's poem, Ash Wednesday, you may want to read it at this lovely site:
I just miss him. And Fredkin, his toaster-sized supercomputer that regularly did battle against the Ice Weasels.
I just prefer to work on the assumption that Lux's last comment still holds:
"Snowing here in is so beautiful!"

He had a ability to appreciate so much. To connect with us in so many ways. I now read some of his words differently... As if he knew more than he was saying or was encoding things to be read later for the future.
Here again is TS Eliot (Four Quartets):
Fare forward, travellers! not escaping from the past
Into different lives, or into any future;
You are not the same people who left that station
Or who will arrive at any terminus,
While the narrowing rails slide together behind you;
And on the deck of the drumming liner
Watching the furrow that widens behind you,
You shall not think 'the past is finished'
Or 'the future is before us'.
At nightfall, in the rigging and the aerial,
Is a voice descanting (though not to the ear,
The murmuring shell of time, and not in any language)
'Fare forward, you who think that you are voyaging;
You are not those who saw the harbour
Receding, or those who will disembark.
Here between the hither and the farther shore
While time is withdrawn, consider the future
And the past with an equal mind.
At the moment which is not of action or inaction
You can receive this: "on whatever sphere of being
The mind of a man may be intent
At the time of death"—that is the one action
(And the time of death is every moment)
Which shall fructify in the lives of others:
And do not think of the fruit of action.
Fare forward.
O voyagers, O seamen,
You who came to port, and you whose bodies
Will suffer the trial and judgement of the sea,
Or whatever event, this is your real destination.'
So Krishna, as when he admonished Arjuna
On the field of battle.
Not fare well,
But fare forward, voyagers.
Excuse my ignorance but what happened to Lux?
We do not know, oleeb. Last we heard he had fallen unconscious, while coughing, just before his last post. In addition, he had acknowledged cancer, surgery, chemo, radiation, and fatigue. If you read the first link, you can see how fatigued.
We've asked around. But no one seems to have had a direct way of contacting him.
This is not an announcement. But a remembrance. A kind of fest schrift.
It's been 2 months.
Well I had noticed the absence but didn't pick up on what might be the cause until reading these things. Thanks for filling me in. It's hard to know what to say.
I understand. I've been mulling this over for 2 months - but for you it's new information.
I'll tell you that the idea for this post came in the middle of the night. I literally was up for several hours working on the poem and putting up the blog. It came from very deep inside. Where it had likely been percolating for weeks.
It's all very disturbing news.
Thera, thanks for putting this together. It is hard to know when it is appropriate, and what is appropriate and I think you've walked that line nicely.
I think we've all been missing him, but were afraid to ask the question out loud. He will be long remembered here, as well as in his "real" world.
What a lovely sentiment, TheraP, thank you. It's difficult for me to find words ... any words. Yet somehow, he understands.
I am so sure you are correct. This man's heart reaches every sincere heart. And always will, I believe.
I appreciate the feedback. Yes, I did try to walk a careful line. I'm glad I managed it!
That was for stillidealistic. :)
Lux's absence leaves a huge hole here. I miss his wisdom and his serenity.
I agree. We need to do our best to carry on his spirit.
Your brief but beautiful tribute is part of that. He was a man of simplicity, humility, and so grounded.
Lux is somewhere, smiling and happy, on a bench enjoying flowers and a nice breeze is tugging at his sleeve.

I miss Hreb too.
Here is his description of exactly that:
If it had been another era we might have wound up sharing a bench in a river pavilion, drinking yellow wine and singing poetry to a summer wind-blown moon! Hreb would be there too of course, the old tramp!
You've channeled him for sure!
Yes. Where is that bodacious bunny cat? I miss him. Helloooo, Bunkitty -- phone home.
I've seen hreb (The Reb as I call him) a few times of late.
But yes, Dear Reb, please phone home. And come home!

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