Honoring the Teacher

 Teacher

 
Monkey kings
bow their head in reverence,
while once studious and
well mannered students,
 clap and wave their arms about.
The teacher
speaks  only briefly to lessons
reduced to  fading words
and symbols  on
yellowed scripts,
translated and transmuted
into concepts that
hold  only grains
of the sand
Truth is.
 
Once a disillusioned  Indian Prince,
a humble Jewish carpenter,
a Saudi travelling merchant
 and the face of so many others
who have looked directly into the divine,
the teacher stands before us,
an accumulated morphing
 of centuries of shed outfits and forms,
 different languages and pointers
with only one lesson to share.
 
The weary teacher has  traveled far
along the silk road to the east,
the busy industrial path to the west,
over mountains and through dessert,
through  rice patty and through ocean,
through golden lined streets
and war -torn rubble,
to stand here today.
 
 
The teacher teaches,
not so much with what is said
but by what is embodied
within this meager form
that is worn as a cloak
around all that is.
The lesson is taught through
slow purposeful steps,
inspired speech,
and a light that shines
so brilliantly
from eyes that
offer Love to all of us
who so desperately want to know
what the teacher is here to teach.

© Dale-Lyn (Pen),  June 2020

Hmm! I was reminded of this poem I wrote a few years ago, Teacher,  upon doing two things: Firstly, I watched the mini series on Netflix called ,The Chosen, about Jesus choosing his disciples. Of course, he is referred to as "Teacher". It is historically very realistic in the fact that the actors are not blonde with blue eyes but actually look middle eastern lol. Though it doesn't refer to Jesus during those lost years from 12-30 where it is likely he travelled to the East along the Silk Route, it did show him able to speak fluid egyptian to a believer.  

Secondly, I am reading:  The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda. In the short time that he taught in the late 1800's he was all about pointing out the need to recognize the  unifying oneness in all religions.  He was also trying to explain Hinduism to his country's oppressors at the time. So I wrote the poem...not knowing exactly why I wrote it and then this. 

...the whole world of religions is only a travelling, a coming up, of different men and women, through various conditions and circumstances, to the same goal. Every religion is only evolving a God out of the material man, and the same God is inspirer of all of them. 

And when I read this...I was definitely reminded of my poem and felt compelled to put it up again (even if it is only bots chewing at it like termites lol.  I have learned to not resist these strong compulsions:) ) 

The star arose in the East; it travelled steadily towards the West, sometimes dimmed and sometimes effulgent, till it made a circuit of the world; and now it is again rising on the very horizon of the East...a thousand fold more effulgent than it ever was before. 

Anyway, it is what it is.  All is well.

The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, Kindle Edition

Netflix Series, The Chosen

Note:  If there is anyone out there reading this, please do not try to comment on this like I recently requested.  I do not want you to pick up these termites!