Robert Taylor:
CLASS OF 1964
Taunton High SchoolClass of 1964
Taunton, MA
Robert's Story
My Life
While maturing, and training my mind for a profession,
broader interests and questions emerged.
These were deepened
by dimensions of confusion and suffering in life,
especially those in my family.
Those somber concerns
displaced me from some
carefree components of new adulthood
(and some, too, of later still).
But they also grounded me
in essential and critical realities.
And now, in old age,
while parts of my life diminish and close,
those concerns, from so long ago, enrich everything;
and not only occupy space that opens,
but fill it all
with fruits and satisfaction, rewards and fulfillment.
Empty space, itself, is full.
All very appropriate for the concluding era of a life.
All very human.
A Merit to Little Things
My professional background is extensive,
but after many years and much effort,
I made all the connections, polished the edges,
and smoothed the package surfaces in all six directions.
My wife had a very big heart and a big mind,
so leaves abundant traces,
but not being here means
there is void behind them.
I've studied quite a bit,
but never really joined the groups,
so no one has authority
over how I should now put things.
By chance,
the puzzle pieces I've gathered seem to fit together,
so now have the smallest possible layout,
compared to them spread out apart.
Now my spiritual growth springs
from my little spot in the world,
and the seeds, tightly packed within me,
well settled in their place over time,
are slowly dropped onto the ground,
unhurriedly, and not thrown far a field.
I have no need to force anything
to anyone else's aesthetic,
since I disrupt little for anyone else.
Unfolding and growth is simpler and quieter
with greater harmony,
I guess, perspective of an old man.
It's a very small compound,
out of sight to most all,
with few regulations I must follow.
It's lucky, there may be merits
to a small home ground,
that are harder with larger ones.
For example, little things just don't fill the available space.
There's so much space left over...
"No one can tell me that I'm doing wrong today..."
Your smiling face - James Taylor
Mantra
At one time, many things changed for me, and it was a...Expand for more
lso quite serious. I had little idea of what was happening, and I really couldn't talk with anyone about this stuff. I had read and was reading things that applied. Meditation was helpful and often deeply at ease. But I was not in a position to figure this out, and trying to force anything was often painful. I tried to be gentle and open, but much was unsure.
In particular, I was not sure how many of the words I had used in my life still applied. I had taken words in naively, like anyone, and in a quite different context. How real were they? Or were they mistaken tags, or even deceptions - conceived from some narrow point of view but presented as universal. Now, what was this stuff in my head?
A mantra formed that was helpful:
I don't know anything.
I don't know anything!
I don't know anything!!
I don't know anything!!
I don't know anything!!
I don't know anything!!
Some days, I'd recite this quite a lot...
To Carry On
An early morning look
upon a quiet open yard,
The air is chilly, overcast,
all is still.
So the scene is held
until a gray squirrel
hops along the ground.
Sprightly and directed
along its way.
So too at our low points,
a spark of life arises,
and carries on.
Suffering
About to turn left out my drive,
I catch a small coyote to my right,
not far down side the road.
It is motionless, eyes toward me till I proceed,
and it goes quietly away.
Haven't seen one in quite a while,
though from things in the news,
and the tracks, they are all around.
So too suffering in our world,
as if it keeps mostly out of view,
except in the news and occasional close view.
But isn't it all around?
Poetry
Long ago I recognized
that with important things,
(and even the unimportant,
if we want to take care)
we need to use poetry,
such that space is present to allow the infinite,
that is part of the truth of things -
which cannot be contained and controlled.
The ever sweeping dimension of all that is real.
Now, be sure, so that we,
and those who perceive us,
are not deceived.
We and they are not the prose strings
we usually use to identify each one,
as if knowing is done, and it is all so simple.
You and I are also definitely, poetry!
Why Me?
End of afternoon, in my soft chair,
when suddenly from out the window at left
an enormous spotlight is shined directly at me -
sharp bright!
As I turned to see,
the Sun had dropped onto the horizon
from under a covering cloud.
This was the Big Sun, yellow.
With all the people there are,
God had chosen to point it
directly at me at that instant.
Don't know why?
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