Artwork © Richard Spisak
Chapter 15
If in coming here I presumed that the people of Honolulu, especially in light of American Christian missionaries and businessmen having coerced this union, would be less fervent in proselytizing empty Christian platitudes and fables, in this too I was mistaken. Signs on churches such as “Jesus is coming” are common (the fact that he was a late comer the first time around, with the species having been in existence for hundreds of thousands of years before his birth notwithstanding). In downtown, in Waikiki, and elsewhere, there are always the powerless seeking power any way they can. Some are madmen maddened in the Lord and their own struggles and demons of conscience, or former addicts substituting one addiction with another, and usually doing so without the ostentation of signs. But the more conspicuous stand in open air strapped with frontal and back signs proclaiming the existence of this everlasting being, as though God being God would need billboards and megaphones from members of this species of inferior human creatures to advertise his existence, and that in the everlasting past, before man made his presence, he had such a need but did nothing about it. The most conspicuous and personal of signs, the cross, whether pendant, necklace, or other ornamentation, would seem to any objective, outside observer as the wearer condoning that most barbaric form of torture, and for the Catholic Church and its opposition to all forms of human killing that has always seemed to me problematic.
Shoo away the pest as one will , the conditions that imbue In man to be “pesty” remain. For how could religion not be? Wherever one is in the world he can sense a predominant societal belief that the hegemony of homo sapiens, a sentient and sometimes logical creature in the world, is such by the will of god, as though there were no others, hominids or otherwise, who reigned high before the sword of Damocles cut off their heads and as though there aren’t other sentient creatures inhabiting the planet now. Likewise, there is an everlasting need to believe that an aspect of oneself is an everlasting essence even when knowing the vile deterioration of dead human remains that are no different than any piece of trash. Foremost, most solipsistically, most close-mindedly, there is a need for a caring God protecting self from the world’s precarious uncertainties even though clearly there are devoted Christians, like everyone else, experiencing horrendous fates, and plenty of good altruistic people who are destroyed by misfortune; and with that a need to believe that even in the gravest misconduct one can get off with impunity by thinking that the fate Christ endured in being crucified is atonement–Christianity allowing all who commit the gravest of atrocities to get off Scott free by being born again, although clearly Aristotle said that character is the summation of one’s actions. With needs and wishes so deep, and so deeply illogical, this illogic is pervasive and can never be eradicated. So what does one do but live in the illogic of society as there is no other choice? If a logical, secular man needs a holy example of logic in the insanity of the world, perhaps there is none better than the Catholic religious clergy, Copernicus. He resurrected the heliocentric theory invented by the Ancient Greek astronomer, Aristarchus, and did so by doing his observations on the roof of the Catholic church, his studies of Moslem astronomers in private, and by publishing his work anonymously.
And if Rousseau is right that the first societies were a response to a natural environment less conducive to wild fruits and vegetables than before, necessitating the hunt which corrupted human nature in multiple ways—bonding as hunters necessitating language which brought about mendacities to which the predominant one was ownership of property and the laws existing primarily to protect property– then of course the homeless are treated as destitute and debauched vermin who bereft of property are also bereft of morality. They are seen as less worthy of being protected by laws and immediate suspects for thievery. But inherent is the need for a cat to brush against its “owner” and surroundings as things owned, and Victor Frankyl mentions the torture Jews in concentration camps experienced in having all of their hair removed. Ownership is not only an empty abstraction created by language but is an inherent instinct. As such, it is one more aspect of society that one cannot be extricated from and the more one lives in a society based on ownership the more it exacerbates our vile instincts.
And then there is loss. Let us broaden an idea of Aristotle that a good man is grieved not by lack of money for himself but of not being able to provide monetary assistance to his friends. A good person senses those who are fragile and who seem likely to implode and he will, if to be of assistance, ruin his life to be their protector and would do anything not to betray their trust irrespective of it being a feline animal, a canine animal , a human animal, or other species. So, whether I am a good man or not, and perhaps not, I am nonetheless deeply saddened that I was thrown out of my container home at Sand Island for telling the case manager there that she was treating me and others like one of those ex criminal guards and guardians at the IHS Men’s shelter. I would have stayed there forever for the sake of the three cats that had placed their trust in me. I finally told a platonic friend in Bangkok who had stayed with me and used me for the decade that we were together and beyond that I could not help him any longer. The thought of myself as unable to be of assistance, and a breaker of trusts, hurt tremendously. I guess Adam Smith does have a point about the relationships of mankind being transactional and reciprocal, but for the good man, if I am such and not a fool, he can continue with one way relationships altruistically for a very long time, but not indefinitely.
Those who say that the world is run by Satan and most good attempts cannot be materialized in it are not entirely wrong. Of course, there is no eternal boogie man from the celestial kingdom inhabiting and making claim to this terrestrial domain, but life individually, collectively, and inter-collectively governs itself based on practicalities –I won’t say “practical considerations” as that implies logical sentience. And because of practicalities to which denial of reality with religion is one the ideal is little manifested here. As ineluctable as it is that that the pragmatic wins over the ideal in this survival of the fittest, this world of predation, so it is that change and loss occur. It reigned over me and it rained hard. In a short time I lost friends in Thailand, a country, a continent, a language school, a townhouse, and nearly all possessions. But Amor fati. Life is after all an adventure and it is easier not to fight but swim within the cataracts of change. If it takes off an arm or leg figuratively we are starfish and those things grow back, albeit different than before.
Steven David Justin Sills is a literary writer in Honolulu Hawaii. His early book of poetry is in many academic libraries in the United States with a scanned copy in the Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/americanpapyrusp0000sill. Sills’ early work can also be found on the Online Book Page at the University of Pennsylvania. After Sills finished his last literary novel “The Three Hour Lady” over three years ago, he began devoting time to writing a long war poem about what is happening in Ukraine. Most of those 25 cantos. including his most recent canto, can be seen at this particular journal. As his graduate degree is great books of the Western Canon, he has been hoping to write his own ethical treatise, and this forum affords him that opportunity.
As the Arkansas Gazette says, “Twenty-six poems make up this first published book by Steven Sills, 26, of Fayetteville. Sills’ vision is often a dark one. He writes of the homeless, the abused, the forgotten people. He is also intrigued with the mystical, the sensual, loss–as in losing those whom we hold dear, such as a spouse or lover–as well as the lost, such as someone who is autistic, who seems unreachable. Sills’ skillful use of the language to impart the telling moments of a life is his strength. He chooses his words carefully, employing a well-developed vocabulary. He is thoughtful about punctuation, where to break lines and when to make a new stanza. He’s obviously well versed in “great” literature. Sills’ command of language helps to soften the blows of some of the seemier passages found in his poems. Seamy may not be the best word to use. Perhaps gritty is a better word or just plain matter-of-fact and to the point… ”
Richard Spisak began his artistic career as a light artist in the Lumonics Studios of Mel Tanner, a legendary Light Artist. After serving under Jack Horkheimer as a planetarium operator at the Miami Space-Transit Planetarium, he left to begin traveling with Lumist Kenvin Lyman, whose show Dazzleland Studios traveled across America. Richard later worked as a Laserist with LASERIUM and Laser Productions, served as a technical producer for the festival company PACE Concerts, and later as operations Manager and Senior Producer at WWHP and WTCN-TV in Stuart Florida.
Richard writes for Theatre, TV, radio, and the web. He published two short story collections, Two Small Windows, in a Pair of Mirror Doors, and Between the Silences. Followed by his poetry collection 7370 Allen Drive and the recently released STONE POETRY. Richard also produces “POETS of the East,” a televised webcast featuring poets from across the globe.