be brave enough to say,
and know that it is incomplete.
be courageous enough to admit,
i understand, with an openness,
ready for change.
affirm your vision.
live by it. it is fleeting.
conquer the tyranny of words,
whose dominion, extends to nuance,
context moving on.
grasp the fog
and hold on tight
until your bundle relaxes.
never fear elusiveness.
is as it must be.
make friends with your innermost truth.
struggle for the space to give.
let go, that which binds your fear.
see another, as you know them to be.
in doubt, look at what is true.
play with it.
play in it
and beside it.
play on the truth
play at the truth
and play it back.
play before that truth as it grows.
playing with truth. it evolves.
…sound silence time light…
at the pace of a faint hue, light enters the dark. movement in time, brings on the morn, awakening the faint plaintiff of a whistle. a twit responds, followed by a twoo. the silent and sacred space of night turns, touched by dawn’s ritual celebratory dance of primal freedoms. the hunters have hunted. there is release from nocturnal danger.
and so sounds mingle with light and rhythmic movement curves, blending with staccatos, trills building to crescendos of tweets, peeps, coos and bobs; caws, warbles, whoops and whips, a screech and a crow and a highly strung bow vibrating, shaking, belly laugh to hoot. repetitive calling. creative song. a symphony of feathers.
be tenacious with your concentration on the morning mist dew and cobweb gossamer as you slip gradually into the silence of day. dawn birdsong quietens. human life floats into the sparkle of morning light. bright colour. sharp shadows. droplets refract the echoes of distant breakers. can you see the wagtail’s dance – tjitty tjitty, tjitty tjitty of silent confidence. therein, is the meeting place of lovers.
….plans, affairs, actitities…
In time. In space. In busyness. They become too busy with their own affairs. Too involved in their own creations. Where now is the sweet moment of youth, in the regrets of loss and wasted follies. Tainted with experience, with time and with age wandering and wondering through lost dreams. Wisdom speaks: There is a place for most things, but the folly of youth, is that it knows not about timing. ‘Its all in the timing’ they say. And it is. Youth spent, has little in reserve. Youth forsaken is used up in over confident consumption of absorbed moments. Who knows of the Flow? Who is it that is ready to turn? Who is it that can subside in decline? The present is overpowering. The present is all consuming. The present drives on relentlessly reactive. The present is not reflected in shafts of bright awareness. Clinging to the excitement of the new, we play with it, again and again growing in familiarity with nuance. Until again, the excitement of the new sucks our attention. In this there is the denial of our love. In this, is the trail of broken hearts, excitement of new conquests, anticipation of new love, beckoning. That the present is a ride, through cycles of surging and emptying, is an elusive reality. Confusion about self. Confusion about the other. Such is the grim sower of mistrust, disillusionment and the tragedy of betrayal in the affairs of each other, that too many children never grow up from.
Is it our nature to be born open hearted, needing nurture? We long for it, in our individual way, with our unique style, nostalgia for nurture. Is it last year, or yesterday? Maybe a century or eternity? In the comings and goings of our births, betrayal manifested in the hearts of humanity. And in betrayal there is no nurture. And so we lurch, as a rodeo cowboy, clinging to the wild steed of our life. Seeking nurture in youth, we build barriers soon enough to protect our betrayed hearts.
betrayed by the expectation of family
betrayed by laziness in the face of adequacy
betrayed by hope as it struggles for freedom
betrayed by the allure of a perfect day
betrayed by a sense of one’s inadequacy
betrayed by meeting with traitors of the human heart
betrayed by the promises, of the beauty and abundance of life
betrayed by one’s best friend
betrayed by the process of growth and ageing
betrayed by clutter and clamour
we are shapen and we are shorn
and we are ‘vikkeled’ and we are born.
Can we meet our Self, in honour?
Can we be there for our Sister?
Can we build trust in yet another Friend?
Can we tenaciously continue the dignity and beauty of our vision when the demons and dragons, the devils and their goatees, prey on the carrion of lost dreams, dreams given up, dreams not taken up, dreams forgotten, dreams undeveloped.
The dreamer falls with a thump, forgetting themselves. They are whisked away by the gleeful and beckoning guards, who sit and wait beneath the clouds, watching and betting excitedly on which dreamer will be the next to fall, awake. Are we all destined to fall awake? Is there space for dreamtime awakeness?
Awakened to the harshness of a literal world, we sometimes have respite and hark the angels call. Can we attend the gathering? Can we attend to our gathering? Can we gather the fragments and shards of our ‘self’ into one place? Will we even recognise which facets are indeed relevant? Having been vanquished by the emissaries of the senses, gossip and judgment, self doubt and power egoists, analysis and critical thinking, are we stuck in a limbo where meaning is forever to be forged in a waring furnace between logical classifications and emotional drives? Is it an illusion that it is possible to have a thought without having an emotion, linked and tied to it? Is it an illusion that it is possible to have an emotion without a thought, linked and washed by it?
….pieces, wholes, peacefulness…
What kind of awakening, disillusions the dreamer by creating a dissonance between his holistic Self and his fragmented critic, his visions and dreams and his bodily peasantries ? If this awakening is not part of a process calling for completion, then why continue? If falling awake into shards of fragmentedness is conspired by logic and reason, can logic and reason later recreate a new vision of synthesis and unity? Is it even possible to gather all of who we are, into a place of consciousness and then, is it possible to join these fragments into a seamless whole?
How does it work? It seems unlikely that it works like an archaeological dig where the shards are first collected and then later reassembled. That we are deeply motivated to gather fragmented reality into unified wholes, is not in question. That, much adult activity revolves around unification, is also not in question. But, it seems that we are all too often particularly unskilful and coarse in doing it. All too often we are driven by insecurity and survival, fear of difference and contamination, vanquishing efforts toward trust, interconnectedness and unity. Our effort betrayed by forces of division. So, be simple. Choose the way of the child who learns jigsaw puzzles. At first they just put any piece anywhere. Then they start looking at characteristics or attributes and are likely to emphasise one without considering all. An edge piece may be placed next to another edged piece, without considering colour, pattern or fit.
What we do is the same, with varying degrees of sophistication. Seeking pattern and understanding, sometimes one attribute works and we think we’ve found a truth. Then it stops working and we grapple on or give up. Each new piece of experience gets integrated or assimilated and accommodated in our psychi. Or, it will be wrapped up and placed in a closet or on a shelf for some benign future moment of readiness. Maybe now is the time for closets and shelves?
from the late 1990’s
first public publishing here now – 9 April 2020 during the time of a tiny microscopic thing that lives and multiplies in animals. Currently it is dominating the world, as a plague of Biblical proportions.