When my career was young,
My companions snickered
At me.


They knew I would never make it
In the game of life.
They knew I lacked
The taste for cruelty
It takes to win.
They knew I would not
Succeed.


My companions did not even
Consider me a challenge
To their unmatched skill
And prowess.


They invited me to
Some
Of their activities
So that they could
Laugh
At my incapacity
And feel good about
Their Superiority.


But they never asked
Me to join them in
What they were really doing.


And, aware of this,
I always felt left
Out
And wondering what it was
They really did that
Was So Important
I couldn't be a part.


(I still wonder, but
Now, I suspect it's nothing
And they seem to think
So too.


(Debilitating activity appears
To be the heart and soul of it,
Such as, presumably,
My presence would make them
Feel guilty
For doing and being.)


As a group of US Congressmen
Put it to my uncle:
'David is such a good boy,
It's too bad for him.
Take care of him.
The world hates good people.'


My uncle hates good people,
Too.


What did I lack?


Good looks -- the girls
Whom we were supposed to
Admire
Never looked at me
Except, occasionally, in pity.


Money -- the boys and girls
Both knew my father was
A preacher
And mother was
A teacher.
And they hated each other.
And they did not thrive from
Southern California aerospace
And academe,
As my companions' parents did.


House -- good neighborhood
And excellent house
But old New England,
Not new ranch-style.


Cars -- 1936 Chev 4-door
And 1952 Chev wagon
Until 1963 and I am gone.


Education -- indifferent performance
Precludes prep school.
Indifferent high school
Precludes Ivy League college.
Overall indifferent college
Nearly precludes graduate school.
Entrance secured on
Representation by retired prof
Who is a friend of the family.
Her name is Lyman.


(I never wanted to go to
College because I considered
That
Would be a waste of time.


(It was.
And so was graduate school.


(I had absorbed the Ground
By grade eleven, when
I was giving guest
Lecture
At Claremont School
Of Theology.


(Weak-minded.
I should have refused
To go.
When I told the graduate school
Faculty
That I did not need a PhD,
They got outraged at the
Insolence.
'You'll never have a career,'
Said one, threateningly,
Meaning,
He would see to it.


(Actually, I didn't need
A BA.
BABA is all I need.)


Clothes -- I had a taste
For Fashion, but it was
Not universally admired,
Being unique,
And perhaps, indescribable.


Health -- I had spent
Three months in an
Iron Lung
And six months in two
Different
Recuperation Facilities.


This was my reaction to
The first grade teacher
Ridiculing my underwater
Finger Painting
Of a great Sea
Turtle and friends.


The doctors called it
Polio.


Swami called it
Light Paralysis.


My body didn't operate
As adroitly as it otherwise
Would have
On account of this
Disease.


There was some deformation
Of the face.
A scar in the neck.
A body thin, clean, not bruising
Brawny, the Southern
California Ideal.


The mind was affected, too.
Slowed.  Paralyzed.
Un-bound.


Those who haven't been
Paralyzed can't begin to
Grasp what it does,
What it is, what it precludes.


Paralysis is very difficult
To sympathize with and
Occasions terror such
As makes sympathy appear
Undesirable.


A paralyzed person is
Bad luck, aren't they?
God, I don't want
To be like that!
Poor fellow!
(Bye-Bye, I'm history.)


For all these reasons,
My companions laughed
At me.


They would not stand with me.
And they would not ask me
To stand with them.


So I started out
On life's course
Wondering why my
Companions felt I was
Incapable.
I didn't think I was.


I took this road
Instead of that
And thought this way
Instead of that.
But isn't independence
Encouraged?  I always
Felt it should be, anyhow.
And we were told not
To be Orwellian, after all!


My companions did indeed
Succeed in the game of life.
They got this and that
And became respectable.


I went along alone.


Pretty soon, my companions
Wanted what they did not
Have.  They borrowed lots
Of money.  They stole
What they couldn't borrow.
In fact, they stole whatever
Wasn't secured against them,
Which wasn't much.


They left me very little
And would have left
Me nothing
If only they had been
The Sole Determinant
Of the terms and conditions
Of the game.


More deeply, then,
I went along alone.


But now,
My companions began to
Notice
That I was still in the
Game.
I was on the field,
Not the side-line,
And I was not in an ambulance.


My presence disconcerted
Them.
They got jealous and
Envious.
I was not supposed to
Be viable.
They had wanted to assume
That I was not
A factor affecting their
Operations.


But here I was,
Affecting.
And also, effecting.


Jealousy engendered rage
And my companions grew
Threatening.


But their own conceit had already
Enfeebled them
And precluded their gaining
The very objectives
They had thought
Were their own best interests.


While they were heaping
Up their piles,
I was extending my front
Beyond any possible flanking
Attack mountable by
My companions.
And this I accomplished
While also maintaining a
Density of strength per front-yard
Sufficient to check
And envelop any assault
On any segment of my front.


I got ready for any eventuality
At the same time that
My Companions
Were deep in their cups,
Their roach-clips,
Their plots
And their divans.


My survival was allowed by
Their own bad habits,
The very things they laughed at
Me for not having.


Now my companions began
To notice that I was
Well ahead of them
And was going to win
The game, hands down.


The reason:  I was happy
And they were in debt.
I had accomplishment
And they mere success.
I had earned Peace
And they had earned stress.
I was gaining strength
And they were losing it.
I was going to win the game
And they could not.


My companions did everything
Possible for them to do
That would end my career.
In this, however, they were not
Successful.


Not once were my
Companions with me.


First, they snickered.
Then, they envied.
And finally, they raged.


But never were
My companions companionable.


And it is true:
I will win the race
And they will lose it.
I am a better person
Than they are.
I have more Love
Than they do.
And that has made
All the difference.


This I have observed,
I, a Tortoise,
Coming down to the finish,
Alone,
And without applause from
My companions.


Like Bede,
I have pined
For a mead of praise
That will not pass
With the breath that
Gives it.


My companions were
Not so fortunate,
Not so clean,
Not so respectable.


They made fun of me
And said I would never
Make it.
But I am making it
And they are cut off.
And that is Swami's
Grace for all of us.


Dharma supports
Those Who
Support Dharma.