Special Memorial Section

Eulogy for Eugene

Tom stirs us with his poetry, at times making us laugh at death.

By Tom Greening

Eugene Taylor

Eugene was...how shall I say this?
...large...in his body, mind, ego, and
most of all, spirit.
Karate, lecturing, writing, drumming, eating—
he could play profoundly at all.
How did I know the moment
he slipped out of his coma
and off to that transpersonal world
he already knew well?
As I hurried though Los Angeles' samsara
I saw his largeness distilled and compressed
into the form of a small black bird
perched alone on a high branch
silhouetted against the sky,
gazing down at me.
On the car stereo I played
George Kahumoku's "Hawai'i Aloha"
and the bird flew slowly away,
and I miss him very much. 

Tom Greening


Making Room for Eugene

This has not been an easy week for God—
making room for Eugene next to
William James and Henry Murray,
and having to listen attentively
to a lecture on Jung and The Red Book ,
but that is his job. 
If he insists on creating such characters
then he must somehow accommodate them.
An especially buoyant cloud had to be found
and angels briefed on transpersonal psychology,
which they found more complex
than ever imagined.
I'm sure they will all work things out,
and any thunder you hear
portends the evolution of heaven
to the beat of this scholar/drummer
who so moved us in our mortal dance. 
  
Tom Greening

My Immortality 
Channeled by Eugene Taylor through Tom Greening
Quite like a Phoenix I will rise again,
but frankly I can't tell you where or when,        
nor can I tell you any reason why
the gods allowed someone like me to die.
I thought I had an iron-clad guarantee
that I could count on immortality.
Do I deserve it?  Yes, most certainly,      
but will the gods abide by their decree?
If they do not I'll see that they get fired,
or tactfully but forcibly retired.
I send warm greetings from Carl Gustav Jung
whose praises I have eloquently sung. 

Tom Greening