Poem as a World, the first in a series about "Creation Crossover"

Dear IL folks,   Recently, I have been participating in an integral blog, which, contrary to the first impression of its title ("Integral Sucks"), has been very constructive. The blog was posted by Rob Smith. He devoted it to gathering ideas that might improve the quality and reach of the Integral Life community.  In a sense, the blog discussion is devoted to re-creating this integral collective experience. This collective is a a world within the (global) world.

I suppose we are talking "holons" here. A "world" seems to be a holon. Am I right about this point/distinction? The contents of the "world" would be the breadth, or spread, of a holon. The way that the world is included in larger worlds, or how it includes smaller worlds within it, would be the vertical view of a holon.  But "holons" are a bit too abstract for most of us to relate to. "Worlds" are more "user-friendly" than "holons".  Imagine the Seinfeild episode about "worlds colliding". Would the skit have worked if the characters said "when holons collide"? 

Recently, a group of IL members have been pouring themselves into the "Integral Sucks" discussion, accepting it as yet another "world" within the world of IL. As the participants in the blog discussion open themselves up to the project of improving IL, the project not only has greater access (and potential influence upon) each participant's inner "world", but it must tap into those inner "worlds" if it is likely to succeed. The project itself depends on the "gifts" emerging from the self-hood - from the inner worlds - of the participants. In the process, the project begins to subtly re-shape of each participant's inner world. We are "growing" while "fixing", while attempting to solve problems which limit the potential of IL.

If the project succeeds, and the IL community's changes-for-the-better are made, then we will each ask ourselves "How will I fit in with the re-created IL?" In turn, that question will take the form of: "How will I be (What "shape" will I take?) in that new community, in that new creation.?"  In this sense, as each participant strives to re-create the IL community, he/she is is re-creating herself or himself. 

Each of these worlds were (and still are, as each is ongoing) acts of creation. A world can be viewed as a "creation". This puts a kind of theological twist to the "worlds", puts them in the light of a "Creator". From this perspective, you could say that the co-creation of the "Integral Sucks" blog/discussion "crosses over" from one creation to another, from blog to the IL community, and from blog to each participant's inner world, including (especially including!) her/his "gifts". Here, we have the world as the world, we have the Integral Life community as a world, we have the discussion "Integral Sucks" as a world, we have each participant's "world", and we have each participant's "gifts" - all of which are "creations".  

Since the act of "re-creating" IL requires energy flow ( a bunch of little "i"s : insights, inputs, investments, and interventions, as well as big "I"s: the overall energy of a human being) from each of the above-listed "creations", then the IL improvement project requires what I call "creation crossover" - crossover from one creation to another.   

One of the discussion threads in Integral Sucks was about "harvesting gifts" in the online community. Mark Dubois, proposed that we consider making the network like "FaceBook on steroids". If by that, he meant (and I think he did) that Integral Life could have a similar quality of networking by individual interests and hobbies and gifts (Where there is smoke there is fire. Where there are interests, there are gifts.), but centered around a deeper, steroid-like, more intellectually and spiritually challenging,  overall discussion, then I wholeheartedly endorse that proposal. In fact, in the blog discussion, I already did wholeheartedly endorse that idea.

In one comment,  I used my poetry writing as an example of an-as-yet-unharvested gift. I have shared some of my poems in Integral Life discussions, but it was more like squeezing them in than having a place for them to "speak".  Also, when I shared my poems, no sub-community of other poets emerged. Non-the-less, I am thankful that several IL members took the time to read and appreciate the poems, and I came away feeling that there was a space (in the heart), if not a place, for poetry in the IL community. Is there a means to identify other Integral Life members who are interested in reading or writing poetry, or who may be interested in exploring Integral themes through poetry? Any poet/philosophers out there in Integral land besides me? 

So, this current blog is an attempt to create a place, at least conceptually, for poetry in the IL community. The conceptual vehicle, or "frame" that I am using is the "world" thing that I started off with. Just as Integral Life is a creation, and you and I are creations, and the whole (larger) world (including the cosmos) is a creation, so is a single poem. It is both a creation and a world. What I hope to do here is to effect "creation crossover" by looking at the poem as though it were a world. The next step is to examine the characteristics of that world and see if it parallels some of the other worlds. Much of my inspiration for this exercise came from recently reading David Bohm's book Thought as a System. Change the word "thought" to "poem", and the word "system" to "world", and there you have it !  Here we are. And here is the poem-as-a-world, and poem as a reflection of the modern culture version of "world", that I want to share with you. 

 

Drone

(as defined in Webster’s New World Dictionary) 

 

 

 Definition: a pilotless airplane that is directed in flight by remote control

 

"I like that blend. 

Gotta ask 'em tomorrow morning, 

'What was the coffee of the day yesterday?'

I assume Starbucks keeps a record of some sort. 

Maybe I better stop on the way home 

and find out before the day ends.

Can't count on corporate policy

covering me on this.

I'll buy a bag tonight, 

whatever the name is, 

grind it and brew it 

here in the office, 

sip it all day long

while I stare at the monitor. 

Lets see, what are the destination coordinates 

on that site sarge said to target?

Here they are.

There it is.

Drop everything.

Another one bites the dust. 

Damn, this coffee is good. 

Need a warm up. 

I think it was a village or something. 

What's next? Latitude... Longitude... 

That could be a training ground. 

Looks like a storage building right there.

Zoom in. Lock on. 

Bombs away. 

Huh, 

too many bodies for a warehouse. 

Three spots left. 

One, 

two, 

three. 

Damn, I'm good. 

The king of the joy stick, 

dirty fuckin' hair -trigger Harry, 

nice and precise, 

anyway you slice it. 

This coffee is definitely on the cold side. 

Done here.  Program Danny Boy 

to head home. I'll 

nuke the rest of this cup,

Then I better stop, if I expect 

to get any sleep tonight. 

Can't drink it after 3 . 

Wonder what time it is over there. 

Good job, Danny boy. 

There ya go, ease on down,

nice and easy does it.

Shut down your jets now, 

let the crew hook up and 

and haul your ass to the hanger.

Just like a stud horse,

you rode hard, now yer put up hot. 

Speak of hot, 

that's what I'm talkin' about!

A little strong though;

kinda leavin' a bad taste in my mouth.

Guess it has a shelf life. 

Do I still wanna buy a bag? 

Why not, won't hurt a thing.

The way we drink the stuff here,

won't be around long anyway. 

Gotta have it. Keeps us wired for sound - 

on auto pilot."

 

 

Definition: a male bee, as a male honeybee, which serves only in a reproductive capacity, has no sting, and does no work. 

 

"Gotta have some of that.

thats where it's at"

buzz,buzz, buzz

Why, oh why?

just becuzz.

Some love to fly, 

but, my, oh my, I

fly to love, I

love to love.

buzz, buzz, buzz, 

just becuzz.

Don't need to know 

no reason. 

It's what I do. 

Now's the season

of love, 

love sweet as honey,

the reason 

my season is oh so sunny. 

 

Let workers work

their wings to the bone, 

I'm a drone, 

and drones, well ...

drones just don't do that,

don't carry loads as fat 

as that. 

I tilt my hat 

to those who do. 

They deserve a word or two

of praise 

for all the work, 

all the days 

and days of work they've done. 

But my job's fun, 

It's not my place 

to work, or run 

a kingdom, let the Queen make rules,

I'll just make love.

I'll set the pace'

and put in place 

a wide array of subtle tools -

a wink of eye, a touch of hand -

to woo my Queen 

who rules the land.

See, I 'm one hellova lucky man -

bee, that is.

That's my biz. 

buzz, buzz, buzz.

 

 

Definition: ... sustaining a single low tone, such a tone.

 

The dulcimer haunts him,

rings Appalacian songs

that roll like mist across 

countless hills, between

forgotten people

who scrape meager livings 

from rocky ground,

piecing shacks on lanky stilts 

on difficultly-angled planes,

just hanging on, 

hanging in there, 

fragments of a people, sharing music

like a kindergarten's rope that 

kids hold onto when crossing the 

intersection and taking a field trip

in the community. The community

is woven into a rope of stories 

droned out with a poor

man's bagpipe, with twangy chords

(vocal chords and dulcimer chords),

salty dog love tales, like dog's tails

swinging, singing hardships into 

artful, heartful expression, 

into soulful mists,

mystical half-knowns of droplets felt, 

of lives lived, 

forming one song that echoes through

hallows, across patches of 

land and landscapes of being.  

 

Bluegrass songs 

stream

on the internet,

enhancing the workplace

where the young enlisted man, 

stationed stateside,

is charged with operating 

technologies reaching abroad - 

a bird, a mechanical bird, 

or big bee, a stinging bee, 

or sword without the grasp

of human hand and heart, 

an over-extension. 

The only reason

it is bluegrass, is that 

the young man likes it.

He was raised in eastern Ky. 

The music reminds him of home, 

clear across the country.

It brings a familiar touch, tone, 

to his California post. 

He especially likes the dulcimer's 

drawn out, low, slow, buzz -

only hearing it peripherally, 

almost subliminally, as he sips his coffee

and adjusts the monitor. 

 

That night, after work  

(after stopping by the nearest Starbucks

and buying something,

and after watching the Simpsons, 

and American Idol,

and going to bed a little late

because he drank coffee at 3:30 that afternoon, 

and finally getting to sleep, 

a fitful, fragmentary, sleep, 

but sleep, nonetheless), 

he dreamed of grandma and grandpa. 

 

 

 

© 2009 Darrell Moneyhon

 

 

 

Here we are, again. What did this world, Drone, say about larger world? Did the separate stanzas, frames, or worlds-within-the-poem-world, crossover from one another and converge? Is the poem, in that sense (in the sense of looking with separate, but related, frames), an "integral" poem? Does the poem say anything that might be applied to our current IL re-creating efforts? 

 

I invite you to answer these questions in comments. Lets see if we can discern  a "creation crossover" from poetry, to philosophy, to community-building, to self.  It's a neat exercise. Feel up to it? 

 

                                                          Thanks, Darrell