NAN - Not A Number

 
    NAN – Not A Number: a purported numeric representation found invalid by any CPU

Face down with my eyes closed for a moment on a brilliant summer day

Switching my thoughts from dry and empty words to illustrative imaging

Arms outspread and feeling for earth’s smooth rotation underneath me

Smelling the moist brown sod beneath the green grass that’s tickling my nose

Ears pricked to catch the silence of our planet’s revolution about its star

Feeling the moon tracing around us, constantly changing her expression

Alert to the momentary minuscule changes in the output of our sun on my back

Aware of its rotational plane with respect to our own Milky Way

Observing as I move slowly upward and somewhere away from myself

Brain waves smoothing into that ancient, nearly-forgotten, frequency and rhythm

Relaxing, smoothing and soothing every part of my conscious anatomy

Anchoring at a center from which all things move away at the speed of light

NAN is not a number but it is the sum of all of my small experiences

My own unique personal version from one of the uncountable different infinities

Feeling my heart slowing as it nonetheless inexorably tolls my 3 billion allotted beats

Hearing an old German church bell again on that quiet Sunday morning in October

But, jet-lagged and sleep-deprived or fit and well-rested, my dust will be the same

Merging with smaller galaxies we encounter, on a route that seems to be directed

Tracing a path through the cosmos without conscious purpose and to no planned end

Aware of the bee as she buzzes about a neighbor of mine standing here in full flower

All that dry space between the raindrops

in the icy waters tumbling

          actually dancing in that shining spume

in the blowing hoarfrost crystals ignited by the wintry sun

          beckoning through their many prisms

part of the gentle sounds of spring creeks flowing

          splashing about upon their rocky floors

souls of patterns seen in far-off clouds

          also glinting from mosses, green upon the stones

neither evil spirit nor mythic god

igniting any reason for their invention

glimpsed while considering galactic clusters

          filling probabilistic emptiness within the atoms

inside the sound of wind and rain

glowing golden in the lion’s eye

neither possessed of emotion nor conscious intellect

          touching yet deeply and yielding wisdom

in the colors of the birds and the fish of the oceans

shining from her eyes without her even knowing

deeply moving yet quite untouched

          without a will but quietly consistent

unaware of the pulsing life force

          but part of the larger cosmic evolution

all that dry space between the raindrops

          mysterious force that builds up rivers

sense that makes the oceans restless

          unnecessary beauty of the morning

answer to all the orphan’s questions

          nameless void from which life briefly sparks

beautiful patterns left without any explanation

          tracings there as if something passed

things we finally learn we should have always searched for

          mystical back-drop, mute to all our wasted folly

what the children are afraid of

          why the old ones have no fear at last

riddle of the victim’s expression

          blur of twenty years sensed in a single instant

revealed in the short lives of crushed dragon flies

          meditated upon near one huge, decaying stump

on the golden line of sun reflected in a breaking swell

          of the snapping and the popping of our campfire burning

feeding the feeling arising when making music

          grateful use of ideas that arise unbidden

joy we take as children play with puppies

why we cook and sew, safe and warm at home

neither in the snow nor of the coldest winter

          sensed by the wolf and he begins to howl

all these tiny life forms dancing, fully animated within but a raindrop world

Relative To One Another

I am slowing down as you are speeding up and we pass at an angle to time

They go up and we move down with the vast oceanic swells between us

Rotating slowly I see the beauty of the stars and galaxies all around us

Spinning too fast in my time I became disoriented and confused

I am folding up my ragged tent as you stake your newest claim

Her mother can no longer stand but your child has just learned to crawl

I am passing you as he is passing me and we cannot yet get out of their way

There is a new well in your village and we celebrate by our swimming pool

I read my book as you send one-fingered messages off somewhere into the ether

The snow that sent you off the road was welcomed by the farmers

We carved different ellipses around an invisible center of gravity

They waste more than they can ever use as we eke by on castoff remnants

I traveled quite slowly but was struck head-on by a speeding semi

When at last I returned it seemed nothing had changed but no one recognized me, either

The loss of the microscopic diatoms spelled disaster for the whales

Parts of seconds were to seconds as seconds were to the age of the universe

Her long lifetime could not be seen on the smallest of geologic time scales

All their simpering adulation could not push his boat across to heaven

We pass closely heading in different directions in all four known dimensions

Their silly propaganda changes timbre, Doppler shifting with the passing election

We observe a planet perturbing its sun as we are swarmed by microscopic mites

We attack our enemies while trillions of our cells hungrily struggle for their blood supply

Gentle winter sunlight shows the soft side of nuclear fusion on a truly massive scale

We destroy expensive, sophisticated satellites with simple high-speed brute force collisions

I am spinning slowly around in circles but you - You are really making a mark

A sun-glassed business woman phoning in a leased car distractedly strikes a fawn

I am sliding down the hill smiling, never to ascend again

He still climbs upward, his fatigue masked by the anticipation of the run

We both stand quite still as my train leaves you behind at the station

I briefly continue moving in small arcs after stepping off the merry-go-round

This seemingly small increase in temperature rippled through the biosphere

The insects hatched early, the chicks starved and the trees were decimated

My bobber went down just as you roared by shouting hoarsely from your speedboat

I sat down to be served as she struggled with the wood for their cooking fire

Our music and fireworks filled the air but not a sound went into space

I paused behind my muddy ox as your silvery jet gleamed far, far overhead

The difference in our ages would make a full lifetime for someone else

Our fossil bones would mix and date to plus or minus a thousand generations

The look in the eyes of the mutely destitute mother spoke too much to me

He thought disdainfully of all the little words he could ever hope to write

The poverty, filth, sickness, slave labor and lack of hope were as nothing -

Given the wondrous future paradise he learned of in the magnificence of the mosque

The clockwork universe was underpinned by the chaos of quantum uncertainty

Our most basic assumptions proved devastating to our ecological niche

I lay on my back with arms outspread in a field bright with spring flowers

20000 miles above, a geo-synchronous satellite moved right along with me

I breathed deeply as my beautiful vehicle turned oxygen into gases, poisonous to me

You survived by cutting firewood as your goats denuded the drying hillsides

He had his two sons and their daughter-in-laws, so he did not work any more

He strove hard to attain a corporate jet and to earn a 7 figure bonus every year

She remembered as a child that it snowed very heavily and it was always cold

Now, her obese youngsters went about smirkingly in baggy shorts and tees all year round

Each small change was imperceptible but the first and last photos were truly of different men

The runners showed amazing speed, but you casually drove by them so much faster

Dinosaurs dominated the earth for 160 million years but left here 65 million years ago

Our written history began about 5000 years ago with simple bookkeeping records

The sunlight that sustains me takes 8 minutes from its surface to my forehead

Four and a half years later, at 186k mps, it reaches the very nearest star

He looked at me with those soft brown eyes and I just had to stroke his ear

A long line of crowded stinking semis brought more cattle to the slaughterhouse

I am slowing down as you are speeding up, but for a while we have communications

I stand still on this rotating earth, orbiting the sun which revolves about the Milky Way as it moves towards constellation Hydra at a mere 600 kilometers per second

Unrecorded Sunsets

butterflies fluttering through this thick green august haze

and the universe quietly expands away forever, at light speed, in all directions

ancient dragon flies mating on the wing whirling in a gentle breeze

unaware there will be no skies nor even any stars before they could know it

the sun slowly melting the sky red as it sets in the west

how long will that starlight travel on after that one star is gone?

the clouds building up again in their fantastic formulations

how many of the infinite sunsets every day go simply unrecorded?

although life may be evolving from quite simple to more complex,

it seems that cosmic entropy will always be increasing

our naked toes wiggling delightfully in the cool, moist grass of june

so, where then are our memories when matter's density approaches zero?

the present exploding all around and directly into our senses

always faintly echoed off that backdrop we have merey labeled as the eternal void

the mountains lifting high enough to support fantastic snow in summer

someday the planet must be covered uniformly, once again, by the sea

birds calling and their songs replay inside our heads as we are walking

so much more than they had to be, simply to survive just to procreate

the tiny streams endlessly improvising infinite fractal solos upon a single theme

how can those beautiful tinklings have meaning only in our minds?

wildflowers showing different lovely patterns in the spectrum of the infrared

layers of beauty that only insect eyes could naturally appreciate

finding rich evidence for biological progression throughout the long millennia

we can only wonder if the life force itself is somehow self-aware

the restless sea always bringing slightly different waves to the shore

it may be a random pattern, but really, it is not so simple

the sunshine, the clouds, the insects and the plants create a sustaining expectation

another almost-grasped sunset passes us by, perhaps pregnantly, once again

Wisdom In Small Waters

In the mossy rocks along the bottom of a stream that we watch gently glide

There is another world than the one from which we stand upon this bank

Down in the depths where light fades to only green and blue

The stones hold cold secrets left them by the melting snows

Underneath the surface, currents come and go with the seasons

Just as the sound of running water is different through the ice

The streams where we waded as children were old long before our time

They had polished many pebbles and undercut their green and spongy banks

In the deep pools where eddies ripple, the stream still pauses to reflect

In the weedy backwaters, the overflow irrigates wherever it collects

Behind the beaver dams tiny reservoirs are managed yet today

The wetlands hold the moisture until they freeze thru once again

This small creek spins different versions of its many tales, all at once

The wind strokes the grasses that thrive in the moist soil by the water

People come and go but the water keeps rolling on from somewhere

Behind a resting boulder the large trout fans in its soothing eddy

Though moving in many directions all the water still ends up together

Tiny wavelets lap the shore in a diorama of the entire cosmos

In the shade of a tree on the bank it is cool on the hottest summer day

Though restless and ever-changing that brook is clearly timeless

Passing over rocks it is smoothing, the water takes a deep and cleansing breath

It gurgles happily like a long and purring cat twisting on its back

Sometimes in spring, between its slurping, you can hear it knocking stones

Such small waters might bring a short and unaccustomed peace to a wandering folk

Morning Rain In A Dry Land

In a dry land, a morning rain brings on an early smile

as the wet birds are calling between the drops

peace need not stir to leave, from this house

the sounds of falling drops and dripping runoff mingle

and the old ones are speaking even as she calls to me now

- the great emptiness softened briefly by the gentle rain

the earth is washing like a healthy, purring cat

and I count the blessing in every single drop,

storms that come with first light define a special day

I hear as drops plop up among the leaves in a nearby tree

A part of the rain chant known by a thousand generations

She comes in fits and starts with a fog, then perhaps a bit of hail

Raindrops ripple across the puddles and it is all, just as simple as it seems

Slowly it grows lighter but there remains a calm and easygoing dimness

The moss soaks up the moisture growing spongy, soft and green

What falls stimulates the earth to exude a misty cloud of peace

I remain in silence, engrossed within this quiet symphony

This rain knows neither here nor how in its wet and simple certainty

The mist off of the lake arises, to greet the lowering clouds

The wind stays resting, somewhere far away

And here once again comes the hope that we might yet, find our way

Small Prophet – The Garter Snake’s Tale

    This, from 'Lives of the Reptilian Saints’

I saw a slender garter snake resting near the road

I wanted to believe he had made that journey safely,

all the way from the other side

I was so amazed that he was even still alive

Something of a miracle with the way this traffic flies

Something of an accident or maybe, a not so simple, random magic chaos

Now he’s left free to disappear forever, down into the weeds

Just a chance encounter with another world that’s disappearing,

just a glimpse of things as they’d always been: Living and not building

Surviving not creating, adapting not administering, belly to the earth,

moist tongue probing ever so gently into that warm summer air,

Not driving behind dark glasses with the tinted windows all wound up

And as I savored those delicate, mottled stripes

the wonder overwhelming,

I finally saw that he had shown me, that I had, indeed, lost my way.

Sounds I Should Have Heard

I heard that temple gong, amid their padding footfalls upon polished stone and old wood

I listened as the peaceful church bells tolled out once more with the coming of the evening

The mystic loon calls carried from far out across the lake, honoring that long June twilight

Their meditative chanting briefly revealed a place where I had always hoped to remain

An eagle cried out from impossibly far above my thoughts in that deep blue mountain sky

The wind spoke through the pines and then went off, sighing to itself among the aspen

For hours I listened as the entire world made music there, upon that one tiny creek

I felt so safe as the warm evening rain tinkled softly down upon that old metal roof

I spaced my thoughts between the bird calls, and so they came and went

The distant thunder rolled across and away in echoes, one peal cascading upon another

All during the night, the peaceful sea took a restful breath with each single wave

Their music carried me to a place where I just wished that I might someday abide

Wolves howled in cold and lonely wonder at the mystery that stood their coats on edge

Fingers scraped the strings between the beautiful chords they strung together like pearls

I heard nothing but my own footfalls for such a long time, so far out on that empty trail

Their roosters began calling just before the dawn, helping to set me on my way once more

Huge branches creaked above me as those giant sequoias stretched up for the coming rain

Familiar elder voices carried gently up the wooden stairs and I fell securely into a child’s sleep

That wind chime bore a message about something that I felt I should have always known

The simple croaking of those wet green frogs briefly made everything seem alright again

I found the white noise of the waterfall once more, carried along within that giant crowd

The roar of my own heavy breathing filled my ears where the way was long and steep

In that Apache sandstone, the wind drifted and eddied, as ancient shadows came and went

The rich timbre of her voice lingered in my memory and often came to me in dreams

Our crackling fire brought a deep sense of well being despite the vast surrounding darkness

I passed long hours to the purring of that calico cat who rolled on the wool blanket in my lap

After my escape I noticed the internal deafness caused by always having to shout out my thoughts

The soft sound of snowflakes upon my cap, many at once, began, at last to set me straight

The mysterious music sometimes emerging from my flute both delighted and surprised me

I took a sideways satisfaction in that here, the jets were too high for their sound to reach me

The quiet repetition of that empty phrase helped settle my breathing and clear my head

I noted drowsily that the shouts and laughter of the playing children did not disturb me at all

I saw that, from a great enough distance, the ugly roar of heavy traffic faded to a soothing hum

I nodded saying nothing until, at last, even they had finally heard themselves for quite long enough

I turned ever so slowly to the surrounding silence, so very pregnant with everything, all at once

Atmlast things maybe even begin to sound like the rest of my life really should have always been