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

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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.

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The Moon Is Hanging Upside Down

And everything under the sun is in tune but the sun is eclipsed by the moon… Pink Floyd

The quote above gives the impression that the moon by way of a solar eclipse can become a bit of a trickster when it comes to situations here on earth. Add to that is the ability to raise and lower the tides or, induce a mystical exsperience from dogs, wolves, and coyotes to howl in her presence. Life would be a little less exciting if not for the earth’s only offspring tethered out there in space by way of gravity… juxtapositioned at an exacts angle which gives us the seasons of the year. Just think of all the books, movies, music, poetry in existence with the moon in character. Life would be dull to say the lease. So just what is it that moves us to romance this cold gray rock of a moon? I beleive that light and love have given us the greatest stories ever told, right here in the night sky above your house, stories that bring the earth, sun, and moon out to perform each evening.

Birth of the Moon

The earth in the heavens, a much younger age, on fire, molten lava, crust solidifying. A meteor crashes into the newly formed planet. It is pushed off axis to 23.5 degrees of tilt. A chunk of earth is sent flying into the heavens, churning, forming, taking orbit around the earth, the moon is born. Because of the impact, metals are left exposed and not buried deep within the earth’s crust ensuring the industrial and technological ages of the earth come into fruition.

The ancients named the sun after the Lion, as its flames are as loud as a lion’s roar. Along the Precession of the Equinox, it’s mystical path around the milky way, everything within the sun’s reach is given light. But trifle with the lion and she could take light away. Thus a solar eclipse is what the first inhabiters of this planet saw, appearing to be the sun growing darker taking light away because of some grievous sin brought upon humankind by the gods.

The sun is eternal, its light is never extinguished whereas the moon sheds its light… it is temporal and is associated with the snake which sheds its skin only to be reborn. The earth and her cohorts, the sun and the moon have evolved thru many different ages and changed in many surprising ways as the great mother she is. And all this is written in the heavens for our enjoyment.

Yes, the moon is hanging upside down, trying to recognize who we are, hoping to see our familiar faces again… jc

*copyright by jc 2020-9 image by pixabay

Song of Amergin

With all that is happening in the world, I think back to the Song of Amergin. Besides being poetic and mysterious in nature, it has endeared itself in the hearts of all who see themselves as one with the earth. On many levels, we are the earth’s people and we have her fate in our hands. For she has nurtured all who inhabit her rivers, mountains, forest, seas, and sky. So maybe it’s time to recite our truth as the poet did on these shores many eon’s ago.

I am the wind on the sea
I am the wave of the sea
I am the bull of seven battles
I am the eagle on the rock
I am a flash from the sun
I am the most beautiful of plants
I am a strong wild boar
I am a salmon in the water
I am a lake in the plain
I am the word of knowledge I am the head of the spear in battle
I am the God that puts fire in the head
Who spreads light in the gathering on the hills?
Who can tell the ages of the moon?
Who can tell the place where the sun rests? Who but I know the secrets of the unhewn dolmen?*

*unhewn – (of stone especially) … unfinished – not brought to the desired final state.

*dolmen – a Neolithic tomb or monument consisting of a large, flat stone laid across upright stones; cromlech

Mythology
While reciting the Song of Amergin, the poet by the same name which means ‘birth of song’, steps onto the shores of Kenmare Bay in Ireland for the first time, leading the “Men of Mil” into battle against the Tuatha De’ Danann (Fairy Clan). In his recitation of the mystical song, he calms the seas allowing his warrior’s safe passage to defeat the Fairy Clan. Whereupon, he tricks the Tuatha De’ Danann into going to the underworld where they now reside in the sidhes or fairy mounds. In this, the sovereignty of Ireland is laid claim to.

Thus the song subsequently affirms the sacredness and power of the land. It also implies a challenge to the gods in which the Tuatha De Danann are considered; do not interfere and disrupt humanity.

Amairgen’s accepted into the realm of the mystics and joins the spirit of the Cosmos which commands the elements and holds court over the earth and sky.

Conclusion
The Song of Amergin comes to us as a translation into English in 1905. But other copied have surfaced with different emphases as to certain text and meaning. It’s said that the poem should be taught in schools before the Odyssey or even the Canterbury Tales.

To those with an interest in the druids, it’s implied that the poem has an emphasis on being a druid that Amergin was. But he was also a poet and the poet’s lines occupy a space in each of us pointing to our shared humanity. We are all the Song of Amergin.

©jc2017-9 Image by Pixabay

The Natural Bridge

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 company
And to subsequently demolish the natural bridge to the universe…

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October

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

Looking back over my life, it appears October has been a singular event for me in many ways as the first frost, covers like a blanket of crushed ice across the top of lawns and the roof of houses and barns. And what are some of the things that remind me of October? 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 flying in formation… blackbirds sing in the dead of night… bats waking from the rafters of an old barn heading toward an ageless 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 reflected light from the setting sun… clear and cool nights… the cat sleeps longer… dogs bark louder…hobbits drinking beer in the post-dawn sun… bats returning from a hard day’s night as squirrels gather nuts and acorns for their winter stores… the month of my diagnoses…. red-tailed hawks… walking man singing frost is on the pumpkin and hay is in the barn… my daughters birth… owls… and you are on my mind.

*Copyright-2019-9-JC

Dragonfly

I’m told that your ancestors go back to the mystic mountains of old where there are stories of many a dragons lair teeming with gold. In truth, you’re one of the first creatures to crawl out from the birth waters of Mother Earth. Many years removed from those times not only in size but also in temperament as you witnessed the Bodhi Tree, the Sermon on the Mount, the first singing of the Veda’s. With translucent wings, you fly over a tranquil pond untouched by ripples, as your mind is calm and untroubled by the dance of time and space, going beyond the known world; fluid, poised and powerful as a dancer of ballet.

Either from the gods of old or from the universe as claimed by modernity, His is the method of our forefathers that you lay secret too, where one’s connection to one’s ground of being is one with all there is.

You are the harbinger of change and maturity mining from a deeper well. A red-tailed hawk in your service flies upward to the sky, retrieving a message from the west wind destined for you.

Like a still point, you hover, meditating in your quiet way, for the awareness of an enlighten Heaven and Earth. Then to fly with wings interdependent to the six directions, across land and sea as you give witness to Gaia. Is she doomed for giving life to her less than noble children? Is it time for Shiva’s dance of fire? But alas the destroyer is also the creator, a continuum of divine proportions.For you are the very epitome of change, as you make your way through the very air you call home, onward to time evermore.

copyright2019-9-jc… images by pixabay55

Road Trip

Dear Friends of WordPress,

You may have noticed that during the last mouth or so I’ve spent less time blogging. Nothing wrong, I just decided to take a road trip, as Jack would call it. And this one took me through out the south to places known and unknown. Who knows the riches in words that will fall from this tree. We’re on the last few miles before calling on home to guide us in.

Thank you for your support, JC

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Image courtesy of Pixabay