Strange World

Strange world to which I've entered in,
Where I am scared to walk within;
Like culture-shock long days ago –
Familiar, yet it frightens so.

It's not that I must run and hide,
There is no place, here I abide;
Yet as I am of where I live,
It ruffles me inside to give –

And finance what important is;
To take on life in world of biz;
To care about what they do best;
And pass forever on the rest.

I did it once – compassion-land –
I lived and worked you understand,
Where other's gently walk each day,
And softly talked, and ‘Ahmmmm’-like prayed.

In other stretches of my life
I hung with teacher-types – that's strife
On wheels, if ever I did see
A world within – sure wasn't me.

I got so good at doing that,
Interpreter and guide I sat
Quite near the gate, a guide to those
Whose gift was elsewhere, and proposed –

A way for them to be themselves
While walking miles of books on shelves
They grateful were – few teachers though,
For they were home, their way they'd know.

The world of money and of biz
Is made of tribes where custom is
A mix of strangeness with some things
Shared by them all – the money gleams.

Though it's my gift as well, as kid
My family sought in me it rid
By pushing log beneath the stream;
'Twas kindly meant, they were not mean.

But later I had seen the light
Of who I am, then set things right –
My goal to learn as I went on
More ’bout that stuff than dad or mom.

Well, more than most – or all – in fact,
Ambitious yes, as I look back,
But Peter-like I jump into
The things I see I need to do.

I know to fix such shock as this
I need to learn what lingo is
Of current use; what matters most;
What's valued here; what things they toast.

I need to learn their conduct's code;
What things they carry as a load;
Location of their mines in fields;
Where they stand fast; where courage yields.

I need to run their paths each day
As they hunt game, and children play;
How life is lived in culture theirs;
And how with others' it compares.

But still, it is a bit of shock
To on these forests paths now walk;
Like mission kin from family past –
Commit my life, and yield my past.

This group walks silent through the bush;
They see, unseen, though hard I look;
I know they will come out at last
When understood – my ways and task.

For bridging has a pain within
From first of days when we begin –
A bridge stands firm on either shore
Bears press of feet from both sides more –

Than any other task in life;
Yet satisfaction trumps all strife,
For people want a bridge to cross;
When blown in war, they feel the loss.

Then once again when peace returns
They seek the bridges which were burned;
For though each culture lives alone
'Tis bridges which enrich each home.

I well recall a friend of mine
Said, “Like approaching dogs, you'll find –
Just go about your life each day
And let them sniff, and go away.

“Then soon they'll let you in their pack,
If you don't push them till they act;
You've lots to do – get settled in;
Before too long your life will spin –

“And whirl so fast you'll long for rest;
So let your needs now be addressed,
For learning lingo and their lore;
You'll need tomorrow for your chore.

“You'll be okay, one will appear
Who'll guide you through what's far and near;
Both seen and unseen to your eyes,
Explore it all, lest you despise –

“What's valued most; and hoped; and feared;
What's in dispute; how life is geared
To help them do their part each day –
Providing things for them to pray.

“Just note the folks that are sent by,
Think of their lives and wonder why
They've come across your path that day –
And harken what you hear them say.

“For like the waves of radio,
Across your daily life they flow;
Quite unaware you are of them
Until you start to tune them in.

“Thus hear the things they chatter on –
Things future, present, days long gone;
And soon accustomed you will be –
Find peaceful calm inside, like me.”

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