Questions 9 or 6 to 3

In the springtime of each year we’ve come to realize that like the flowers of summer we to come to bloom in the fresh morning dew, in the rich loom of the mind- jc

©jc2021-4

It was William Blake who stated that the ‘Doors of Perception’ need only be cleansed so one can see the infinite. Could’ve it be that to aid in our questions of life we need only to quiet the left hemisphere of the brain and start cleaning this door with the right hemisphere? Or as Robert Bly called it, “doing our kitchen work“, deflating our ego by performing the work of a simpleton, task that free the mind, holding our thoughts temporarily in reserve, as we earn the right to transcend this door which lays hidden, not known to exist. So in our kitchen work, we labor completely unaware of the task at hand as we scour the mind of fear and loathing. There is faith in this, the faith of the just and downhearted on the path to lite and love.

A Natural Bridge to the Universe… Elysian Fields

Many take shelter from feeling too much within
Some will tell you it’s a mortal sin
To fly so high and steep so low
Just as Perceval in tales of old
But to know when all else fails
When all is lost down the streets of desire
And the blind eye of regret is all that one feels
You will soon come to a realization that the truest feeling is within the heart.

That light and love are born of a sacred vow
And the only real freedom there is, inhabits this very moment
The only thing they can take away from you is the gift of solitude, to fear it, to be deprived of the comfort of one’s own jcompany
And to subsequently demolish the natural bridge to the universe…

copyright-jc-2021–5-10

 

The Sirens Song

The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over; thus the wise say the path to salvation is hard.
-Katha Upanishad

We’re a curious bunch, our thirst for knowledge is unlimited. This is especially true when talking about enlightenment which is sure to bring many to the discussion. But if we’ve learned anything we must keep in mind that those who seek will not find it, for it comes as a thief in the night, completely unexpected… that is the paradox. But still, we’re curious. What is it that drives one on this quest seeking illumination and transcendence.

In Greek mythology, The Song of the Sirens provoked many a sailor to fall into song-of-the-sirens, the sea to their death, so alluring was their song. It wasn’t until Jason and the Argonauts played a counter melody that the Sirens were destroyed. We also have a tendency to lose ourselves in our quest for answers in the deep oceans of life. We need our own counter melody to balance ourselves in the event we fall for the false sounds our own egocentric self.

In his short story, The Silence… of the Sirens, Franz Kafka wrote that a more fatal weapon than the song of the Sirens might be their silence. Indeed, where would we be without our wonder, our inquisitive nature, our song we hear in the deep recesses of our soul.

But all is not lost for the seeker on the spiritual road, for it’s said that one who travels this path and seeks an answer to life as we know it, is as a “dreamer of a beautiful dream where the dream is worth it, even if it doesn’t come true.”

Humanity has a need for metaphysical belief. Is this enough to imply its existence? Some say that because it’s contemplated to such a degree throughout the ages that this questioning is proof enough. But we can’t help but ask the questions. It’s in our nature. Thus there are more questions than answers or so it seems. Just look at the multitude of beliefs. And what of the questions… the existence and silence of God? Why are we here? What is the purpose?

What would life be if from the beginning we knew all the answers? Void of wonder, the end of seeking, of life itself. For it’s the experience of being alive and the enchantment of the ordinary that fills our days and our dreams at night.

©jc2021-9

*Photo’s courtesy of Pixabay

Prayer

…said at dawn

I step into the day, I step into myself, I step into the mystery…

(Anishinaabe: Odawa, Ojibwa, Algonquin First Nations)

Dear Friends, This prayer of the First Nations was given to me years ago and I have treasured it. But as time slips by the mind let go of one treasure for another. Or so I thought. And what we thought was lost is found again with I dare say renewed vigor and meaning. Maybe these few words are what is needed to put this troubled year behind us.

For me, the meaning in the poem is in its stillness when each part is seen in conjunction with the whole. Try and see each day such as this.

jc

copyright 12/2020-9 jc

Evening Tide ‘You and Me’

On this road, my life begins
Forgotten love, forgotten friend, a forgotten child that dwells within…

Who could show it all to me as we sit on the edge of creation
Perhaps in another time, another place
So what part of me have you become
Is it you or is it me?

And in this love, I commence doubting
What part of me can I live without
Who holds the mirror that reflects to me?
Who I gave think I am to be
Is it you or is it me?

When I seem too far away
In a hole where you can’t playfull
And if I leave will regret win out
A pain I wear that leaves a doubt
Oh whom I think I am to be
Is it you or is it me?

Mirror, mirror on the wall
Of all who’s left a mark on thee
Who’s the fairest one you see
For within another I see me.

*copyright jc 2020-11 images by pixabay-9

Echo’s In The Dark

I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all,” -Richard Wright

In a musty old cave lie’s a treasure chest and inside are scattered amongst the various pages of an odd notebook or two contain collections of poetry and prose without a home, with no prospects in sight. These words are to the point and do not own any lavish pretenses of grandeur. They simply speak their truth as directly as possible, such as the truth a child will convey out of sheer innocence. I fear that these short verses will fill volumes if I allow them as much and bring me to task for my truth. But I will do away with my unwanted disposition of fear and let this long and winding road of words take me to where they might lead, to the river of my memory, with its rich loom on the alluvial plain of my mind.

*copyright jc 2020- 11 by 9 image9

October

A state of mind…

“All things on earth point home in old October; sailors to sea, travelers to walls and fences, hunters to field and hollow and the long voice of the hounds, the lover to the love he has forsaken.” -Thomas Wolfe

The richness of fall to the last leaf, the last birth, the last miricale. But we’ve yet to realize that in death life must rise again. In this, we may lose light to darkness but we are gaining something far more precious; a mystical light.

Days of light growing shorter give way to darker days and the merriment of witches and goblins by months end. The ritual of Halloween, a precursor to the holiday season as death and decay allowed one last dance. County fairs and festivals are familiar to October as a sense of community; coming home which guides us to Thanksgiving, Christmas, the New Year and ending with the Feast of the Epiphany on January 12.

The reflected light from the setting sun causes brush strokes of orange and blue…the night sky seems clearer and closer as the cat sleeps longer… dogs bark louder…hobbits drinking beer in the post-dawn sun… bats are returning from a hard day’s night as squirrels gather nuts and acorns for their winter stores… the pumpkin patch…scarecrows…red-tailed hawks.  

Autumn begins in late September under the cusp of the September equinox in the Northern Hemisphere. In the Christian calendar, this is known as the Feast of St. Michael… the darkening of days into longer nights. This year we can add a lunar eclipse to this sacred threshold as the dust settles on the last days of September, the world bundles up tumbling toward the shadowy world that is October.

The richness of ‘fall ‘colors, create a sense of wonder as it hides the secrets of death and decay as we are holding on to the last leaf, the last miracle of life. But we’ve yet to realize that in death life must rise again. In this, we may lose light to darkness but we are gaining something far more precious; a mystical light.

October is a ‘thin place’. Thin places mark the boundary between what was and what is; light and dark, good and evil, the reconciling of opposites; this is the month for meditation, mindfulness, and awareness. For one can easily get lost in October’s beauty and live forever inside the mind.  However, we are not meant to live in only one hemisphere. We are of both, time and space. And we can make October a month of peace and transition.

Days of light growing shorter give way to darker days and the merriment of witches and goblins by months end. The ritual of Halloween, a precursor to the holiday season as death and decay allowed one last dance. County fairs and festivals are familiar to October as a sense of community; coming home which guides us to Thanksgiving, Christmas, the New Year and ending with the Feast of the Epiphany on January 12. 

But what does October mean to me? Looking back over my life, it appears October has been a singular event for me in many ways as the first frost like a sheet of crushed ice across the top of lawns and the roof of houses and barns jogs my memory. The end of the harvest… the harvest moon… the music of Bach… sleeping with the windows open… old dogs warming their chilled bones by the fire… geese fly in formation… blackbirds… bats rising up from the rafters of the barn heading toward a nocturnal ritual…the sweet fragrance of Gardenias… the delicate colors of Pansies… freshly brewed coffee… the season’s first hot chocolate… days of contemplation and wonder. The birth of my daughter,

Still, other events I associate with October are the end of the fishing season and the beginning of the hunting season…the picking of apples and the season’s first taste of apple cider… long walks in a deep wood… the laughter of children out for recess in the chilled air… the sweet taste of sugar cane…my grandmother’s red and white checkered apron, reading Poe’s Raven by the fire.

The reflected light from the setting sun causing brush strokes of orange and blue…the night sky seems clearer and closer as the cat sleeps longer… dogs bark louder…hobbits drinking beer in the post-dawn sun… bats are returning from a hard day’s night as squirrels gather nuts and acorns for their winter stores… the pumpkin patch…scarecrows…red-tailed hawks.  And so much more… jc

copyright jc 2020-9… photos by pixels

Solstice

solstice

“The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart.” Helen Keller

As equal days and nights embrace each other  in a dance of the highly mystical, the winter solstice appears at a time of great change when the earth readies herself for the harsh winter that enables the spring by way of the autumnal season when the harvest is reaped . And as the hay is in the barn, the first frost has settled on the roof of houses everywhere as the smell of sweet wood resonates from the hearth. The pumpkin lay in the patch waiting for Halloween and the sheep have returned from the highland. Everything is as it should be or is it ever really? 

Solstice literally means ‘stand’ and the whole of humankind seems to obey as the sun keeps a watchful eye on the frozen north for the river run is deep and wide as it is long even when frozen. All is as it should be when the gatekeeper to the Land of Nod holds you to the sacred task… riddle me this… how do you keep the one you love? Love is not kept nor can it be as a flag of selfishness  flying over its castle walls. Love is patient, love is kind, love is good, love is all.

…copyright by jc, 2020-9, image by pixabay…

 

Perceval

Just as Perceval left the forest in search of the Grail he knew little about, there are new adventures at hand for you and for me that we can’t at this time perceive… new worlds to embrace and old ones to conquer. But it’s all for naught if you never enter the world. I have done my best to teach and guide you… to keep you on the road to the secret knowledge which rjjjreturn again.

So my final advise on this day of reckoning is to breath deep and fly the middle way through the Southern Cross as you touch them

. Beware of flying too close to the sun, as well as deep oceans, and keep firm in the face of adversity. For it is the manager who was going through it was just so he could be the same and I cannot it would have a lot to say that never speaks out who walks about as though he were already in the grave.

Copyright- JC 2020-9

Valhalla

I said momma can you tell me about the love between the moon and the deep blue sea. How long did they ride the tide to the horizon where little secrets are told from afar that no one will ever hear. I remember our wings where we promised the world to one another. Running wild through miles of smiles talking to the clouds amidst the spent leaves of oak trees crushed under the foot of our shoes. And here we found the secret in the secret rite of spring… all things must pass and likewise return… the sailer to the sea, the farmer to his fields and the warrior to Valhalla and its hall of 108 doors said to be in waiting for the return of Odin.

*copyright jc 2020 TO YOU I LOVE