No, we are not lost but locked hand in hand with a destiny not always understood. We set forth not by force or a lack of responsibility but in love; a love which rules with the heart’s intensity for truth… jc
I’ve arrived back from my sojourn, none the worse for wear guided by Hermes, the messenger of the gods… seeking the grace of his good council. Such wisdom as has been drawn from a cauldron of nine maidens for centuries on end.
It isn’t necessarily the physical miles that earn one trust on the road but if the distance isn’t owing to any fan fair or parade as such but to what might be called an eternal state of mind or being. For example, how bizarre would it be to see the eternal in William Blake’s grain of sand, to sense it on a spiritual level? The miles that role can achieve this phenomenon for you. Some may call this day a daydream but all give evidence toward a spiritual exsperience.
As we see that it is the journey that is of most importance and not necessarily the physical destination. So what of this trip we’ve been on. It is indeed relative to call it long or even arduous. It’s relative to each of us.
One feels the need for the open country, the crowded city, the mesmeric ocean, or the reclusive mountains at any one point in life. And as time moves on to an uncertain fate, so does the wandering spirit we give title to as the gypsy, the pilgrim, the bohemian.
Is our faith blind? Maybe not, but still allow me to sail to the other shore to live, to learn, to contemplate. And I will be sure not to walk before its time, to only setting forth when the red-tailed hawk appears in the new dawn light with a secret from the sky and calls me on to another home.
As many of you know I struggle with Parkinson’s disease. In the years since my diagnoses so much has changed either because of me or in spite of me… work, moving, kids, meeting new friends and renewing old ones. Never was I one to try and deny my circumstances for it was cathartic just to know this is what ails me, now what can I do. Sure I tried to conceal my tremors and the way I walked but time has a way of liberating all secrets. In the guise of this generative, physical and cognitive condition I do battle with the dragon time and time again for time comes to the aid of every decision under heaven, be it an angel in heaven or devil in hell. There is much truth in this as Perceval and the ailing Fisher King, seeking the question, “what ails you, Sir, what ails you”? Compassion flowering the good earth. Perhaps it is also a bit like Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote, “man must not distance his brotherhood even with the worse of men.” For sometimes your the dragon and sometimes not.
Once upon a dream not too long ago, while sailing sleeps silent gate in the vicinity of the Constellation Crux which harbours the Southern Cross, our pilgrim found himself immersed in unmarked writings, wordless readings, and silent teachings, for he now understood that nature was his true teacher, however not so much that he hadn’t abandoned a life of books and study but the true measure of that study, enveloped and afforded him the real test of insight which he called intuition, instinct, a sixth sense. Continue reading CRUX
“Words used in different form and measure tell the story of our lives. Such stories conjunct other stories creating a collective story, word for word. When perfected, and connected, they sound of music playing in perfect harmony. They dance to the rhythm of meter and time on the road to meaning and understanding.” -jcContinue reading Mother
There are moments in time when we try to reassemble life’s rich pageant; assigning the pieces as neatly and securely as we can into a box of our own subjective thinking; a box that hasn’t any room for fresh interpretation. The analysis is so in sync with the cerebral brain that we fail to sit back and enjoy the epiphanies that are present especially when the pieces of this puzzle seem not to fit as we think they should…if our narrative comes together, we call it a miracle, if not we’re disgruntled. We tend not to appreciate that in the perforations of this chaos there are considerations waiting for our attention. It is only when we trip into overload from this temporal way of thinking, thus spilling forth into the mysteries, do we expand our thoughts into the universe of a higher understanding. It is then, I come to realize that what I don’t know is more than I thought I knew and I’ll never know it all. Thus, I stand blessed and open to all there is on the road of perception raining down in the pale moonlight. This is mindfulness at its best, waiting to hand you something you didn’t have an inkling you were in need of.
“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 an old damp cave or a treasure chest under the sea, scattered amongst pages, worn out pencils and to-do list, I’ve collected fragments of writing 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.Continue reading Echo’s In The Dark- Words
The Divine Fool Laila and Majnu (Qais) -Ganjavi (Persia) Qais falls in love with the moon princess, Laila whose name means sweetheart. Sadly her father marries her to another man. Qais love is so obsessive that he’s deemed insane and forbidden from seeing his beloved Laila in the flesh again. Thus he sees her in everything else. Qais roams the streets known only as Majnu, which in Persian means, “love stricken, possessed, madness, a lunatic”. Continue reading Onward To the Palace of Wisdom- Love, Pt. 1
My nature is light, nothing but light. When the world arises, I alone am shining. -Ashtavakra Gita 2:8
I stand transfixed; my mind’s eye takes in everything before my brain has time to confuse it with reasoning. As this subtle untarnished revelation unfolds, I search my coat pockets for a pen and paper and transcribe into words what I’ve witnessed.
A mysterious orb has exploded while still retaining the contour of its original shape. It reminds me of an eye, dark and luminous rotating in its socket. An Continue reading The Lamp and the Abyss
The Lakota say that it is not uncommon To hear something calling your name In the stillness of a dark moonless night. This is ‘shungmanitu thanka‘, the Great Wolf.
One night our pilgrim found himself walking deep in a dark wood; overhead a new moon disguised as its shadow self-juxtaposed to an array of stars, as the sound of spent leaves crushed underfoot sounded in the autumnal air. It seemed as though the wind was guiding him towards an expected destination as he found himself facing Sirius, the Dog Star. At this moment, his vision caught sight of a light moving swiftly in front of him in the shadows of an oak grove. Like a slow waxing moon, a white wolf appeared before his eyes lending a radiant glow to the maze of yellow, red, and green on the forest floor.Continue reading Revival