When young we identify with Alyosha His optimism and his innocence His fragile, flowering Orthodox1 faith A happy, almost-holy fool for Christ
When older, the sensual Dimitri, With irresponsible lusts and desires Grasping for the rewards of the moment Now, ever now, wanting everything now
Then older still, as intellectual Ivan Sneeringly aloft, above all faith and flesh A constructor of systems and ideas From the back pages of French magazines
Though never do we identify with Nest-fouling, leering, lurking Smerdyakov Our secret fear, unspoken fear, death-fear: That he might be who we untruly are
But hear, O hear, the holy bells of Optina2 Those Russian messengers3 singing to us Inviting us to meet Alyosha again At Father Zosima’s poor4 hermitage
1Russian Orthodox 2The name of the real monastery upon which Dostoyevsky modeled his fictional one 3The Brothers Karamazov was first published as a serial in The Russian Messenger 4Poor only by earthly standards
Another adventure begins On a day to remember On the 11th hour of the 11th day Of the 11th month in 1918 WWI ended But the war continues Between the material and spiritual The Grand Inquisitor in all of us (Dostoevsky) Tries to encapsulate the formless
We're all searching for the magic pill Red or blue What would you choose? Fortunately, there is no choice You become who you are eventually It just depends how many lives It takes for a full realization Of this reality
A spiritual warrior is always in transition I'm spending the next few weeks traveling from Portland to Los Angeles Maybe on to Peru from there I plan on writing in realtime In spacetime, I'll be riffing Suggestions of where to explore are appreciated That would put a big smile on my face
I told my Cree friend of this journey She laughed and called me Thotin Thotin is wind; wind in all forms I told her I identified with water She nixed that: 'water is too predictable, wind is just ****** nuts' We lol'd
