World Bible. Religions of Man.

The Moon

The Moon

It was as a young student in high school that I first encountered the scriptures of other peoples, in a class on world religions, which used The Portable World Bible. Instead of historicism, I believe I got the real message, since I did the reading, of the writings themselves, the universalism at their core. And it may have been that I was fortunate in the teacher of the class, who may have introduced me to a new style and way of manhood. Looking back, I see an intellectual man, more sophisticated and nuanced in sensibility.

And then, a year or two later, after more and wider reading, I took a college class that included Huston Smith’s The Religions of Man. That book opened new vistas, ordered things in a new way for me, even as I couldn’t really relate to the instructor, dropping the course before the end. But I had the book. And read it.  And re-read it. It was true to my experience. For soon, I had “gone off hiking into Baha’i.” But it was not “too quickly” of a decision. I had spent a few years reading and thinking about virtually every Baha’i book that had been published up until that time, 1976. I searched through several libraries from the suburbs to downtown Detroit to find them, and thought and prayed, prayed and thought, while continuing to read widely in the poets and literature.

It was more than a decade later that I heard of Joseph Campbell, through Bill Moyers’ The Power of Myth on PBS, another powerful influence, one I immediately recognized as true to my experience, re-watching it many times, reading some of his books. By 1982, while I was still in Japan, I had already begun to make notes for The Parliament of Poets. Campbell’s work was startlingly congruent with where I already found myself to be, confirmed me in the direction I would take. But it wasn’t until about 1993 that I had written down, perhaps, I think now, as a result of his interview with Moyers, where I would travel.

Frederick Glaysher

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What is Art for

Lunar Orbiter 1, 1966

Lunar Orbiter 1, 1966

What is Art for? It’s a commonplace thought that we used to know, but have lost, the answer to, along with God and other deeper dimensions of life. Materialism, commercialism, politics in the worst sense, anomie, nihilism, solipsism, and all the other fare out of the intellectual soup kitchen of modernity now provide the meager gruel of our existence. As though there were only one thing that art is for.

Before there was art, beyond the modern panoply, there was worship of the Unseen Essence, and human beings of all tribes, in every aspect of their lives, expressed, recorded, honored, intimated, found metaphors for their experience of what the Lakota Indians, for one, called Wakan Tanka, the Great Mystery.

We’ve been colleged. We’d never fall for that. After all, what was Marx and Freud and the great Enlightenment all about? What were they for? It’s either one or the other…. One is either an educated person or one is….

Frederick Glaysher

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Unity of Being

Unity of Being

Unity of Being

W. B. Yeats struggled for, but never achieved, Unity of Being, seeking it throughout A Vision. For all his phantasmagoria, he could not create or renew a convincing vision, a Unity of Being.

I believe a vision can be achieved but on the moon, or from the moon–our time has seen and felt the impact of the great symbol, Mother Earth, her circling embrace, as her arms wrap around us, a celestial Rose Image, terrestrial oxymoron of the Universe.

Viewing our homeland from space, who can doubt that Unity of Being begins to return?

Frederick Glaysher

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Footprints on the Moon

Johnny-Come-Lately

Johnny-Come-Lately

The Detroit News headline for Monday, July 21, 1969, reads, “Footprints on the Moon!” I can still vividly recall watching, as a young boy, it happen on black and white TV, along with my family and the many millions around the world. It fired my young fifteen-year-old imagination like nothing else I had known. I had always been thrilled by the entire space program, my father having worked on making the heat shield for one of the re-entry capsules. And then the incredible event itself, in prime time TV, “one giant leap for mankind.” I was there with the astronauts, walking on the moon.

My family saved the complete front-page section of The Detroit News for that day. Eventually, it became my copy of the great event that dad and all the nation had worked for, the greatest technological achievement of human history. As the years went by, I found myself still thinking about our human visit to the moon, going back and re-reading that section of The Detroit News, as it has increasingly yellowed and frayed and brittled. The writer of the main front page article made one revealing comment which he seemed to think everyone would understand and agree with: “it was not necessary to send poets to the moon.” What? The falsehood and injustice of that comment increasingly struck me, as my study of poetry and culture deepened with the years. Who did these Johnny-Come-Latelys think they were? The hubris and arrogance of scientism seethed in that one sentence, the “two cultures” implicit in it.

Poets have been on the moon for millennia.

Frederick Glaysher

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