Wednesday, December 12, 2007
God Is A Pedestrian
Podiatrist Father - A word from the doctor
The preceding "post" stands as something of an Intro to "God Is A Pedestrian." BTW, it was dad who, one way and another, led me to William Blake, though, to the best of my knowledge, he was unfamiliar with Blake's poems. However, he would, on occasion, refer to "the poet," quote or mis-quote some lines, and I'd ask, "What poet, dad?" and he'd turn red in the face and yell, "Goddammit, the poet!"
As for the reference to Palm Springs, dad moved from Chicago to Palm Springs in his 70s, passed the state exam, and started a new practice. Lots of people there with foot problems.
GOD IS A PEDESTRIAN
Palm Springs, CA
“Trust water, son, you can’t go wrong with water.
See, and it’s got dual arm rests,
pneumatic air switch,
a four-horsepower motor
“So, hold here, hold the grab bar—
get in, son. Take a ride on the plumbing express!
“Good for the feet,
good for the back.
they go together!”
I’m swept away.
“Schlimazel! Hydrotherapy is your friend. Hold the grab bar,”
“You want to know a secret?”
Please, dad, no philosophy.
“God is a pedestrian. God who is in heaven
is also a man, just like you and me.”
And what about angels?
“I’m telling you, if they looked after their feet
they wouldn’t need to fly.”
Dad, you’re nuts.
“Of course, everything is imagination. Rosicrucian says.”
“One saw the world in a grain of sand.
So, nu? I see it in a pair of feet.”
No, dad, not feet again.
“Yes, feet. Feet. The sun and the moon and the stars.
Feet, feet are heaven, too, a heaven filled with stars.
Rosicrucian says. The world is a man and the light of the sun
and the stars is his body.”
This is Rosicrucian?
“Goyisheh kop! Think! The two are one:
God exists in man so body is a form of soul.
Heal the soul and you heal the body.
Heal the foot and you heal the soul.
That world is in this world, and this world is in that.”
So what are you saying, dad? Maybe there is no ‘other side.’
“What am I saying? Wake up!
This is the other side. You’re there,” he says,
handing me a towel, “right
here, right now. You’re home.”
[From God is in the Cracks, Black Moss Press, 2006]