Take a gesture from an Indian;
guide your fingers upright, into your palm.
The invitation is indelible,
giving Placement to where you Belong.
Take on the detachment of a Monk,
and try to not add your voice;
see what a silent space might bring,
instead of adding to the noise.
Take the colors the sun makes upon skin,
and try to wear them all.
It's not possible, but you can pretend,
to elicit what you might Call.
Take on a mincing Asian step,
and find a view of being Among;
what your own Presence might distill,
and therein, the voice of Personal song.
Take on the furry hood of an Inuit's coat,
and see the world, re-framed, from inside.
Or wear a loincloth to expose your Self,
as done by a Massai's tribe.
Take on a Mediterranean or Grecian swaddling,
in deference to what you reverence, inside;
and present your Self to the world this way,
to learn that difference is the way of Pride.
But there is nothing to be Proud of;
you had no hand in coming in as you Are.
Nothing was overcome, conquered, or won;
in a whole, you are simply a Part.
We none can judge unless we explore;
we can only individuate by being en massè.
To adjudicate by the ruse of exclusion
only negates our own part in the Path.
Each meridian, climate, placement on the globe
adapts each embodiment that lives in that place.
Along with flora and fauna, we co-exist;
each, a Paradise of it's own, tailor-made.
Equably separate, and distinct,
in endeavor as well as terrain.
We were all made for each other, for sustenance,
for we each and all have something to trade.
I have roots if you have fruits,
As Above, so Below.
It's the way of Life, provision;
the more we share, the more we know.
By sailing ships, kayaks, canoes and slips
we've learned to navigate from place to place.
To spar over difference instead of embracing the Plenty
only demeans the nourishment of Agricultural ways.
The Spice Routes, the Tea Routes brought inter-change,
and created the paths by which we discovered
that God's sweet green earth has many zones
in order to tend, and feed, one another.
We can never supplant what lies underneath;
As Below, So Above.
To hone everyone's tools instead of imposing rules
is what allows the Heaven of earth; that of Love.
Graphic: 'Seaward,' by John Klingel