poet, interviewer, musician, traveler
Faith
1
I make another in a long series of bargains
as I lift myself out of the darkness:
For a moment I hear a familiar call
in the scripted homily of a TV nun.
2
As a child I lay on my bedroom floor
moving a tiny ball of light through my body.
I learned it from my aunt —
always ahead of her time.
3
I set my traps to ensnare the divine.
I define God out of existence.
But then what is the light
that shines through everything?
/ / /
Jason Crane
6 February 2020
State College PA
Imbolc
I called to God in the night.
I knelt, I rose, I answered, I sang.
Beneath my shirt I hid my vow.
No one can say I didn’t try to keep it.
/ / /
Jason Crane
1 February 2020
State College PA
Had a big epiphany this morning. The religious zeal and calling I feel is directed toward the creation of an intentional community. I also feel a very strong love and gratitude for Buddhism. My Buddhism has been a solitary practice for so long that I’ve tended to dissociate the religious/community calling from Buddhism. With the recent creation of an evening meditation group, and a planned trip to the local Zen center this weekend, I feel a merging of my calling and my Buddhist practice. Maybe I’m finally finding my path.
particle & wave
peel back the flesh over the sternum, then slowly separate the ribs
there in the center is the light, both particle & wave
the light will spill into the room, but that’s to be expected
reach your hands into the chest cavity
it’s often best to do this part with your eyes closed
the fingertips are more sensitive than sight
as you press your fingers inward, you should feel
the hard edge of a jewel, concealed there in the light
were your eyes open you’d be unable to see it
your fingers, though, find it easily, willingly, hungrily
withdraw this jewel from the cavity & open your eyes
in the facets of the jewel there are universes reflected
some are worlds like this one, but with subtle changes
others are strange lands unlike any conceived of by the human mind
behind these worlds, at the very center of the jewel
is the home of the light; it sits in a perfectly spherical room
never flickering, never dimming, both particle & wave
knowing this is inside of you, what is beyond your grasp?
/ / /
Jason Crane
6 February 2018
Pittsburgh PA
An essay written by Hicks shortly before he died. Published after his death by his parents.
Leave a CommentI was born William Melvin Hicks on December 16, 1961 in Valdosta, Georgia. Ugh. Melvin Hicks from Georgia. Yee Har! I already had gotten off to life on the wrong foot. I was always “awake,” I guess you’d say. Some part of me clamoring for new insights and new ways to make the world a better place. All of this came out years down the line, in my multitude of creative interests that are the tools I now bring to the Party. Writing, acting, music, comedy. A deep love of literature and books. Thank God for all the artists who’ve helped me. I’d read these words and off I went – dreaming my own imaginative dreams. Exercising them at will, eventually to form bands, comedy, more bands, movies, anything creative. This is the coin of the realm I use in my words – Vision. On June 16, 1993 I was diagnosed with having “liver cancer that had spread from the pancreas.” One of life’s weirdest and worst jokes imaginable. I’d been making such progress recently in my attitude, my career and realizing my dreams that it just stood me on my head for a while. “Why me!?” I would cry out, and “Why now!?” Well, I know now there may never be any answers to those particular questions, but maybe in telling a little about myself, we can find some other answers to other questions. That might help our way down our own particular paths, towards realizing my dream of New Hope and New Happiness. Amen. I left in love, in laughter, and in truth and wherever truth, love and laughter abide, I am there in spirit.
unlocked
the surprise was
that the door opened
when I pulled the handle
so few do these days
as a kid pretending to be
a hero in a game
involving dice
I remember we could run
into a church
for sanctuary
when the monsters got too close
I need it now more than
my fictional self did then
I need a door to be open
the soft light through
stained glass
the quiet only holy places bring
/ / /
10 October 2017
State College PA
Ed, John, Kevin, Mike, Sid & Me
he stood beside me
(I was five)
dressed in black
white at the throat
when he spoke
others paused to listen
but it was a power
he didn’t abuse
I knew, in that moment
he was who I wanted to be
he stood in front of me
(I was 13)
cream-colored robe
trailing the floor
rubber chicken
in the basket of
his bicycle
which he’d ridden
down the centre aisle
of the church
I knew, in that moment
he was who I wanted to be
he stood across from me
(I was 15)
in the parking lot
at marching band camp
taught me a song by
Genesis (the band, not
the book)
told me he didn’t believe
in the invisible man
I hadn’t realized
that was an option
I knew, in that moment,
he was who I wanted to be
he stood in an alcove
(I was 22)
a statue of burnished wood
incense filling the room
with sandalwood
the temple was dim but
glowed nonetheless
I bowed my head
found my footing
took a deep breath
I knew, in that moment,
he was who I wanted to be
he stood before
the gathered workers
(I was 33)
spoke into a megaphone
salt and pepper beard
close cropped hair
a regular suit, but
that familiar white
at the throat
he led with a quiet fire
told them Jesus
stood on the side
of the worker, not the boss
I knew, in that moment,
he was who I wanted to be
he stands before me now
(I am 44)
a face reflected back
in the steamed mirror
of the upstairs bathroom
he looks older
still has the goatee, but
his cheeks are fuller
he’s taken a long road
to this place
to the comfort of
“I don’t know”
the strength of
“but I know what to do”
I know, in this moment,
who I am and who
I want to be
///
Jason Crane
2 October 2017
State College PA
sandbag satori
I settle like a sandbag onto the zafu
bones finding a resting place
a contented sigh & the smell of sandalwood
I close my eyes as the bell rings
/ / /
Jason Crane
6 April 2017
State College PA
the mystic
New Balance sneakers, worn soles
Builder’s tea, almond milk, one sugar
Nikon binoculars, Peterson field guide
a biography of Philip Whalen (of course)
all the trappings, none of the Trappist
there’s no “I” in enlightenment
oh wait, there totally is
/ / /
Jason Crane
17 March 2017
State College, PA
About a month ago, my partner and I started attending the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Centre County. This is the first time I’ve regularly gone to church in nearly 30 years. Turns out I really missed it.
I went to church from birth, or thereabouts, until my late teens. I started as a Catholic, and rather than going straight to atheism as many Catholics do, I was a fellow traveler with the Methodists for a while. As you know if you’ve read this, I wanted to be a Catholic monk or priest, then a Methodist minister. Once I realized I didn’t believe in god, it seemed like that just about wrapped it up for church. (Apologies to Douglas Adams.) I did attend a Zen center or two over the years, but my last regular communal religious experience was certainly 25 or more years ago.
Over the past year or so, I’ve decided I’d like to become a Unitarian minister. (As you’ll know if you’ve read this.) An important part of that is being an actual Unitarian. My partner, who was raised in a progressive Episcopal church, has also been feeling the call of the pew, especially since Christmas, when they went back to their home church for a visit.
And so we awoke one Sunday morning a month or so ago and decided to try our hand at the local UU fellowship. I’d been there before because my kids and their mom used to attend, although they no longer do. To be honest, I was a bit lukewarm on it before. I’m a “high church” guy – a fan of ritual and robes and incense and such. If there’s one thing this UU fellowship isn’t, it’s high church. I also tend to prefer very forceful ethical challenges to the congregation, and the few times I was there, I didn’t get the impression that those challenges were part of the deal. Just to reiterate, these aren’t criticisms at all, just reflections on how I felt at the time.
In the year or so since I last attended, my own thinking and needs have shifted, and I think I’m more open to the possibilities of the fellowship than I was before.
In any case, I’ve really enjoyed going. It feels good to gather with people in a place of moral and ethical instruction, and to be surrounded by people with at least some of the same beliefs and commitments as I have. The services tend to be fairly short but dense, in a good way. I like the interim minister very much. And because of my activity in the community, I feel like I know half the congregation already.
Last week O and I attended a monthly potluck dinner and spent most of our time chatting with a lovely English couple who retired to the United States to be nearer to their son. This past Sunday offered the congregation a chance to learn about all the various committees that exist at the fellowship. O and I volunteered for so many things that I think we’re both ordained now.
I look forward to going each week. It’s become a cherished part of my Sundays, and of my relationship with my partner. I finally feel like I’m walking the path toward becoming a spiritual leader in my own right, too, which is exciting and satisfying. As I said at the beginning, I didn’t realize how much I’d missed going to church. It feels good to be back.
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