I

In my beginning is my end.

In succession
Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,
Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place
Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass.

Old stone to new building,
     old timber to new fires,
Old fires to ashes,
     and ashes to the earth
Which is already flesh, fur and faeces,
     Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf.

Houses live and die: there is a time for building
And a time for living and for generation
And a time for the wind to break the loosened pane
And to shake the wainscot where the field-mouse trots
And to shake the tattered arras woven with a silent motto.

— Excerpt East Coker by T. S. Eliot

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Saturday morning, a brisk, chill wind is gusting.  Winter officially begins in a few days.  Nature knows nothing of calendar dates, or of anything else.  Blind cause and effect, without pity, or regretful longing — just an unrelieved chain of cause and effect.  That is the best way that I am able to show by words what I observe. 

Diabetes with which I am intimately acquainted comes to mind as an example, the constant rise and fall of glucose in the blood. Blood sugar is necessary fuel, but too much, and the spikes erode the tissues of the body.  Too little, and brain function slows, confusion comes, and the light dims.  Mindful of my condition, I can only respond as best as I can. 

The poem East Coker by T. S. Eliot expresses our condition, indeed the condition of “the world.”  There are infinite ways of description, no end to the language games available to characterize each observation.  Put another way, there’s no escape from unchecked perspectivalism, viewpoints, some far and some up-close, some above or below… of any event which we might choose to discuss.  It is not as if, you and I have the luxury of “objective,” privileged observation.  There is no God’s-Eye-View.   To make things worse, am I not, are not all of us aspects of the show, playing our bit parts?  Language, a human tool can do only so much. 

A conclusion was reached with a good friend last night on a discussion about organized religion and the legal system.  Each of us approached the difficult topic from divergent points of view.  Dissimilar viewpoints cause much effort, give rise to friction in our attempt at exchanging ideas.  Nevertheless I learned from our discussion.  The email exchange was fruitful.

The lines from East Coker suggest the rhythm of Nature.  Human endeavor is no exception.  Our projects however individual, such as framing a picture, or however epoch-making such as establishing an organized religion or a system of justice are all subject to the same rhythm. 

There is a time for building, and a time for breaking.  The fine imported oak trim of the wainscot, and the rare and expensive tapestry will not be on the sideline.  The earth on which I stand is already “flesh, fur, and faeces.”

And so with religion however deeply rooted, or an admired system of justice, however emulated.

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WTF you are probably thinking.  Lighten up, it’s the holiday season! 

So here is a song.  I like the tune because the lyric expresses beauty and sadness at the same time.  Shooting Star by Bad Company.

Shooting Star

By Bad Company

Johnny was a schoolboy when he heard his first Beatle song,
‘Love me do,’ I think it was. From there it didn’t take him long.
Got himself a guitar, used to play every night,
Now he’s in a rock ‘n’ roll outfit,

And everything’s all right, don’t you know?

Johnny told his mama, hey, ‘Mama, I’m goin’ away. I’m gonna hit the big
time, gonna be a big star someday’, Yeah.
Mama came to the door with a teardrop in her eye.
Johnny said, ‘Don’t cry, mama, smile and wave good-bye’.

Don’t you know, yeah yeah, Don’t you know that you are a shooting star,
Don’t you know, don’t you know. Don’t you know that you are
a shooting star, And all the world will love you just as long,
As long as you are.

Johnny made a record, Went straight up to number one,
Suddenly everyone loved to hear him sing the song.
Watching the world go by, surprising it goes so fast.
Johnny looked around him and said, ‘Well, I made the big time at last’.

Don’t you know, don’t you know, Don’t you know that you are
a shooting star,
Don’t you know, oh, yeah, Don’t you know that you are
a shooting star, yeah,
And all the world will love you just as long,
As long as you are, a shooting star.

Don’t you know that you are a shooting star, Don’t you know, yeah,
Don’t you know that you are a shooting star, now,
And all the world will love you just as long, As long you are you.

Johnny died one night, died in his bed, Bottle of whiskey,
sleeping tablets by his head. Johnny’s life passed him by like a
warm summer day, If you listen to the wind you can still hear him play

Oh oh oh, Don’t you know that you are a shooting star,
Don’t you know, yeah, don’t you know’, Don’t you know that
you are a shooting star,
Don’t you know, yeah,
Don’t you know that you are a shooting star,
Don’t you, don’t you,
don’t you, don’t you,
Don’t you know, don’t you
know, oh, yeah, you are,
Yeah, a shooting star, yeah, oh
oh oh oh oh……
Don’t you, don’t you know
that you are a shooting star,
Don’t you don’t you know……

Composed by Paul Rodgers