Oh it's so hard to be tranquil.
But I'm doing the least that I can
to harvest passionate experiences
in the cargo-cult van.
To divest of stress and worry.
To divest of uncertainty and dependency.
To opt instead for calmness and tranquillity,
in a state of untroubled stable ataraxia*.
Neither denying nor affirming anything in
shadows that cross my path, beyond my control.
I’ve got my stuff together, with my life
back in balance, stable,
serene and harmonious.
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* Ataraxia is an Ancient Greek term used by Pyrrho and subsequently Epicurus and the Stoics for a lucid state of robust equanimity and tranquillity when free from distress and worry.
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Life is for pleasure
Who needs the pain
As you exit this world
What have you gained
Keep your upper lip stiff
Deny yourself fun --
You might as well be
An ascetic or nun...
'Course at yon pearly gates
There's this matter of sin
Epicurus cries 'til it hurts ~
But he never gets in
You are only a failure if you fail to live;
If you obey, rather than question,
Envy baubles as if they matter,
Hate official enemies, when they are humans,
Believe in public idols, when they are empty,
Accumulate things, not moments,
Pander many, rather than cherish few,
Play approved games,
Worship fashionable gods,
Buy fun-in-a-can, when fun is free,
Exist for fear of what they’d think -
If you lived.
There's a lady I know as pretty as primrose,
With innocence of soul,
how I know ----
None whom has walked this wide world 'ere
more lovely than her dimmest delicacy;
The sweet of lavender envious in her passing....
the King-Rose longs her deeper crimson lush,
and divorce he the earth, to marry her but a day;
And death dare not take her
lest he die in her love,
For holy her heart,
where the angels take leave
to but watch mere glimpses of her beauteous art;
with eternal pledges the very ground 'neath her feet
hallowed with heals,
Her wind as cherubin lungs to fill the sails of saints,
a messiah for Epicurus ----
for no ail shall last long in her soothing shadow;
Nay,
the sun shall not shine
with same vibrance in her leaving,
But the stars align with her remembrance,
and God in all His glory more joyful for her making;
For He made her from His finest silks
and honeys from heaven.....
a mentor for Venus,
(ma belle femme)
maybe Epicurus might'a been furious
if he'd lost all of his desire
combed the ground, to look around
for lost wants to quench his ire
where'd he drop his taste for food
and pour out his tongue for wine
no lyre to pluck his ire for good
no nimble lover to limbly entwine
no want for jaunt to walkabout sea
or hope to climb pinnacled knowledge
the soul enslaved to desireable plea
too hard released from its bondage
just might want philosophy to be
freeing of fears brings tranquility
no purpose repurposed for plan B
afterlife ever after an impossibility
yet, today is right here, right now
and we all can provision it wisely
accept what joy providence will allow
see, as he, an Epicurean view blithely
© Goode Guy 2011-12-05
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epicurus
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epicureanism
You must follow
Follow whom?
One who knows!
Knows what?
The chief end of life!
Where does it lie?
In the now!
In what does it lie?
In pleasure!
That, may be a lie?