A New Mythology

“Snow falling in the Mississippi darkness rolling down to the sea.” –Steve Goodmen

Recent events of the last few months still seem as foreign to me as snow falling on the Mississippi Delta. In as much as these singular events have happened before, they attest to our true colors, which are heroic and also a bit blinding at times. Still in other moments we seem to not be able to find our way home to where we owe at least a semblance of the truth. However these days the gods offer us a strange new set of hero’s… health care providers, nurses, bus drivers, first responders… they are the brave and all too few are left to deal with the aftermath. To all of us who maintain six feet of separation from one another we feel inadequate at our position in the ranks. We’ve built a fortress around our hearts and now the battlements must be set on fire

But through the flames and tears, I hear the laughter of children or is it the sounds of wildlife, a multitude of species teaming through woodland, wetland, town and country alike. Birds of all sizes and colors all returning to ancestral lands. The chemical skies and rivers below begin to clear as smog dissipates from major cities all as recorded by the eternal eye of time and space.

Is it really such a surprise that in our absence, nature is capable of making such a recovery to a time and place she knew in another age yet in the distance of only a month or so? Do we really think that we can go back to things as they were? Or should the so-called ‘new normal’ really be an ambassador to a new way of thinking? An archetype to understanding what was once hidden so deep but is on the verge of becoming. A new mythology for the Earth and its children.

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Pontchartrain

Heading downriver toward New Orleans on Christmas eve you can hear the bells from St.Louis Cathedral and the angelic voices of the choir singing traditional Christmas hymns. If you listen even closer, the sounds of horns playing out from Bourbon St… traditional jazz from Preservation Hall. These different sounds of syncopation… horns, bells, and singing in a blended rhythmic exchange of musical styles can only make the heart overflow with love on this magical night. But a peculiar thing happens on this night according to the National Weather Service that calls out for our attention. Every Christmas Eve winds out of the east rush from the Pontchartrain headed west toward a crescent in the river at the French Quarters… downtown New Orleans. All of this energy is pushing onward to the mouth of the river. Witnesses say you can feel the winds lift you up as though they were coming to take you away. Legend has it that Papa Noel, after his visit to the bonfires of the river parishes, leaves New Orleans from this very crescent in the river with these prevailing winds surrounding his sleigh guiding it downriver to the Gulf of Mexico and all points south. And yes the sound of someone in a loud voice or is it the wind against the currents, either way, ” Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.”

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The Student (again)

Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside dreams. Who looks inside, awakens. -Carl Jung

Where the Earth and Sky Meet

Relax and empty your mind of all concepts and temporal concerns. You are here to observe without prejudice… mindful of the environment you know nothing of. You don’t know what the sun or moon is or any other phenomenon by name or definition. The universe is there for you to ingest without any conceptualization. Let your first impressions be the sum of complete innocence as though you were the first human being to see the universe from the earth point of view. To see the world in this manner is not an easy experiment but try.

Build Me Your World

“The essential thing about a poet is that he builds us his world.”                                         -Ezra Pound

I love this quote and just maybe this is the only purpose of creativity of any kind… to build the world of the artist to others. Then what’s built inflects another and the flame of creativity passed forward. And what’s been said before is said again but with a different twist

Quote6

“I spent my entire youth writing slowly with revisions and endless rehashing speculation and deleting and got so I was writing one sentence a day and the sentence had no feeling…FEELING is what I like in art, not CRAFTINESS and the hiding of feelings.”
-Jack Kerouac

Blowing Rock

“Our life today is not conclusion; a sequel stands beyond where we will walk hand in hand. It is as invisible as music but positive as sound.”                          – Emily Dickenson

The morning air nips at my hands on this autumn day as I stand behind the blowing rock. According to legend, if you drop anything from this cliff, it will return to you. Myth, wind currents or magic? Maybe all are correct; for the wind is magic and myth point to truths unseen.