A Little Mix of Money, Poetry and God

Wednesday, April 2nd, 2025

By Robert C. Koehler

As I stumble into my later years, I seem to know less and less. And I find myself – often in desperation – pulling what I think of as my childhood rabbit out of its hat. That is to say, when the conversation seems to be drifting away from me and I’m starting to feel out of it, I find myself turning to what I know best: dumb-ass humor.

For instance, at the bank the other day, my daughter and I were discussing significant financial matters. At one point, the banker asked: “Do you have any questions?”

Uh oh! I almost couldn’t help myself. I responded: “What’s the meaning of life?”

Hey, I got a laugh. The conversation went on. Life went on. But what is the meaning of life? I guess I’ll have to try to answer it myself, not that I have any clue whatsoever. The best I can do is toss in a little of my own poetry, just because poetry, like humor, shatters the certainties of life: breaks the glass, you might say, and in doing so expands our awareness beyond what we think we know.

How about this one? It’s called “The Divine Truth of Broke”:

Before I die
maybe I’ll go bankrupt.
This is not on my
bucket list, but
I have only so much
salve left
in my savings account
for the monthly wounds that
keep getting bigger.
Who am I not to
deserve learning
the divine truth of
broke?
Money bites
when it’s not in the room.

Financial uncertainty goes hand in hand with financial certainty. That is to say, money rules, whether you’re Elon Musk or a homeless guy living on the street. Poetry doesn’t exactly change that, but it cries out, “The emperor has no clothes.” OK, so what? He’s still the emperor. But somehow that larger awareness matters; without it we couldn’t evolve.

How about simply being awake? As we wake up and get dressed, we also put on our certainties about the nature of our lives. More certainties to shatter! Doing so doesn’t necessarily change anything, but it cracks open the door of awareness just a little bit further. Thus I wrote this one: “Time To Dream”:

I lie quietly nestled
in the soft now of heartbeat and breath,
of being, of letting go.
The day undoes itself,
boundaries melt,
sleep slowly tickles
the edges of my knowing
and my neurons dance.
I open
the coloring book of my soul.

I’ve always been swept with a sense of awe by my . . . not simply my “ability” to dream but my psycho-spiritual insistence of doing so. This is what we do without trying, at least when we’re in a state of unconsciousness, also known as sleep. Indeed, dreaming is the antithesis of consciousness – sometimes, you might say, its court jester, often turning our conscious certainties upside down.

The ability to dream in a state of consciousness is essentially what writing is, at least as I understand, and practice, it. Finding your own voice! That’s always been my core principle when I’ve taught writing over the years (from elementary school through college). Our voice comes from a place deeper than what we know, just as dreaming does, pulling from God knows what to create and shape a larger sense of reality.

And speaking of God, let me toss one more poem into the mix, which attempts to address what is perhaps the greatest uncertainty – or, for some, the greatest certainty – of all. It’s called “Do You Believe in God?”

Do you believe in God
you ask, as though
yes or no
is an answer.
Kneel, please,
breathe, inhale
the deep what and please
let there be
let there be
help in the times of trouble,
love at the door
of death.
Yes yes yes
I believe
with frail not knowing
and without
giving it a name.

I think another way to put all this is that the greatest certainty in my life is uncertainty, whether i/m at the bank, in bed or in a state of need and prayer. One final thought: The god I reach for has a sense of humor.