Ultimately! That is a good word to have in our backpack and pull out and contemplate a bit, milk it the best we can, if things get too rough on the trail, and any dreams, hopes, or just some simple pleasures aren't working enough. And I like the primary definition of that word: finally in the end. At last. 

And I might add to that above definition: O Boy! Holy Cow— this was sure worth waiting, sweating and crying for.

Yes, what are we Ultimately? I think what awaits is some kind of Trillion dollar lottery prize with no taxes. And we should start getting a little more mileage out of holding such an astonishing winning ticket. Maybe leave bigger tips to waiters and servers; give more to the homeless; be less concerned about alimony or a light bill. 

I heard that the phrase, “Who are we?” was once taught to an exceptionally smart and beautiful parrot in cage; and she would say it whenever her owner appeared. And the parrot was very cared for and loved, but she would bang her head against the bars sometimes, especially if there was a window open in the day time and a breeze came in and caressed her, and she could see other parrots in a wonderful tree close by, coming and going as they pleased, playing, laughing and sweetly grooming each other. It was then the parrot would sometimes say, “I am you,” and then stop banging her head for a while. And even seemed to sigh in some kind of relief, a belief, that indeed— someday she would be free and laughing, and with her wings able to taste the sky, and be more near the sun...whenever her heart wanted. 

With the world events of this last month— specifically with the horrific atrocities that happened when Hamas invaded Israel— and now the retaliations and more brutal deaths on both sides, looming, that may go on for years on various levels; and with the horrific, really rather unbelievable, ongoing events with Russia and the Ukraine; and all the, to me, political and religious insanities— I find myself thinking: “I know exactly what I am going to ask Carl at our next session, or Buddha, if he gets close.” (That Carl, being Carl Jung by the way.) 

I have been saying this last year, at times, that Rumi and Hafiz are, in ways, Carl Jung times ten gone poet. And in having been floating around in the wine barrels of Hafiz and Rumi most every day for some 30 years now, what is it I have learned and can say to myself— or offer as help to others— about all one can see on the news or read online? Or even experience just in their own life…in personal ways, in personal, ongoing, sometimes very affecting events? 

My last blog: “Don't Die Again” is such an offering! All my blogs are, in a real way; and surely all my books are: a wanting to help!

There are two lines from a Rumi poem in the book The Purity of Desire; those lines go:

                 There have been thousands of things for you to

                pick from to put in your backpack on this journey.

Yeah Carl, yeah Buddha. Yeah Rumi, yeah Hafiz. You are on now; here is the mic. Tell us something that can really help. And we may surely put that in our backpack for this journey of every hour and day, and for our whole, really miraculous life. But you got to make that— juicy! It has to— boogie! Be some intelligent comfort when needed, aka: it can really hold up to all the elements that can rain upon us.

I woke up in the middle of the night with some thoughts that got me started on this blog. It is about 3 AM now. And some other words about all this that came to mind were: preschool and daycare.

And it occurred to me, though not wanting to jump off the playing field of most, that this entire earth is something of a daycare center, and a preschool; where the soul is gradually being weaned from form and names into more light. And that the world's great teachers throughout history, are still very much here (in spirit), as much as they ever were in a body—  though they can appear to have walked out of the classroom, and then the mayhem can begin— the horrible and so deeply affecting mayhem, and great pain.

What is the ultimate Truth of everything? Who really— are we? There are probably only a few people on earth, at any given time— who carry that around in their backpack; and can really live that, and really share that via human ways—like a vital trail-mix snack and drink of pure water! Who have truly advanced beyond the vast preschool and daycare-needing realms, where consciousness is still evolving.

The great Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh, who was nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize, tried to help us understand more of the Truth, when he wrote this remarkable, very sophisticated poem. 

I think I have said enough on this blog. But I feel this subject is so important to many— truly vital— that for my first time in over 40 blogs now, I think I will offer a “part two” to this at some point, or maybe even a short series. I already see that shaping in my head.

A couple last things. One more key, key word, phrase, in all this to me is:

L-Chaim (to life)

And to close, some lines from the challenging depth of Hafiz, where he will use, at times, a reality-physics in the natural world to symbolize. Though I felt it was best to edit some, change-disguise one word; I just did not think I could go cowboy to cowboy— cowgirl to cowgirl— with most on this one. But you could figure it out if you really want. Or ask a good Zen Master or real Rabbi. 

                    “Look at the moon's light. How is it possible She

                     can click her glass equally against all things?”

What chalkboard did that come from? What elite, elite classroom where the eye and heart and mind graduates into a perfect equanimity— into our destined, glorious Ultimate love and, “at last” true Knowing, True Caring! So way beyond the daycare centers of so many institutions, the preschools, where there can be harm to others and the environment, and there is greed, lies, and fear.

         “That chalkboard the sky; beyond every name but One. Where 

         the caged parrot will become the Sun; and its wings Existence.”