The dream is always the same, though it occurs less frequently. I awaken, within the dream, to find myself in a house I don't immediately recognize; somehow I know it is the house you and I shared. I know without knowing how I know. All I want is out.
But none of the doors open to the outside. They open into the room where I was just standing, or to other rooms and hallways. All I want is out.
I don't know how long I spend futilely opening doors, perhaps it varies each time, before I give up and accept that I am trapped. There is no way out.
Monday, August 31, 2015
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Afraid to Love
Afraid to Love
I turn away
and close my heart—
to the promise of love
that is luring.
For the past has taught
to not be caught,
in what is not
worth pursuing—
To never do
the things I've done
that once had led
to my undoing.
~ Lang Leav, Love & Misadventure
I turn away
and close my heart—
to the promise of love
that is luring.
For the past has taught
to not be caught,
in what is not
worth pursuing—
To never do
the things I've done
that once had led
to my undoing.
~ Lang Leav, Love & Misadventure
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Something in the Way
O wild torrid consort, lurid breath of my beating breast,
Thou from whose unseen absence desire fled.
Lies cold, haunted like a ghost from our uncharted past.
I remember, afternoon sun bleeding gold, and hectic red,
Pushed and pulled, desire; refusal denied! O thou
Who chariotest to my dark wintry bed;
The winged perfection, the arrow, the blow.
Trumpet blast within its song a dirge, until
Trembling, motionless, I lie listening to
The clarion of the dreaming earth, and fill
Silent memory. Memorized perfection still.
Filled living, flesh and blood, smooth and frill:
Wild joyous which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh hear!
* In imitation of Shelley's “Ode to the West Wind.”
Thou from whose unseen absence desire fled.
Lies cold, haunted like a ghost from our uncharted past.
I remember, afternoon sun bleeding gold, and hectic red,
Pushed and pulled, desire; refusal denied! O thou
Who chariotest to my dark wintry bed;
The winged perfection, the arrow, the blow.
Trumpet blast within its song a dirge, until
Trembling, motionless, I lie listening to
The clarion of the dreaming earth, and fill
Silent memory. Memorized perfection still.
Filled living, flesh and blood, smooth and frill:
Wild joyous which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh hear!
* In imitation of Shelley's “Ode to the West Wind.”
Monday, August 17, 2015
The Spirit is the Lightening in the Light of an Eye
The Goddess said: 'Spirit, through Spirit you attained your greatness. Praise the greatness of Spirit.' Then Light knew that the mysterious Person was none but Spirit.
That is how these gods--Fire, Wind, and Light--Attained supremacy; they came nearest to Spirit and were the first to call that Person Spirit.
Light stands above Fire and Wind, because closer than they, it was the first to call that Person Spirit.
This is the moral of the tale. In the lightening, in the light of an eye, the light belongs to Spirit.
The power of the mind when it remembers and desires, when it thinks again and again, belongs to Spirit. Therefore let Mind meditate on Spirit.
Spirit is the Good in all. It should be worshipped as the Good. He that knows it as the Good is esteemed by all.
You asked me about spiritual knowledge, I have explained it.
Austerity, self-control, meditation are the foundations of this knowledge; the Wedas are its house, truth its shrine.
He who knows this shall prevail against all evil, enjoy the Kingdom of Heaven, for ever enjoy the blessed Kingdom of Heaven.
From The Ten Principal Upanishads, translated by Shree Purohit Swami and W. B. Yeats.
That is how these gods--Fire, Wind, and Light--Attained supremacy; they came nearest to Spirit and were the first to call that Person Spirit.
Light stands above Fire and Wind, because closer than they, it was the first to call that Person Spirit.
This is the moral of the tale. In the lightening, in the light of an eye, the light belongs to Spirit.
The power of the mind when it remembers and desires, when it thinks again and again, belongs to Spirit. Therefore let Mind meditate on Spirit.
Spirit is the Good in all. It should be worshipped as the Good. He that knows it as the Good is esteemed by all.
You asked me about spiritual knowledge, I have explained it.
Austerity, self-control, meditation are the foundations of this knowledge; the Wedas are its house, truth its shrine.
He who knows this shall prevail against all evil, enjoy the Kingdom of Heaven, for ever enjoy the blessed Kingdom of Heaven.
From The Ten Principal Upanishads, translated by Shree Purohit Swami and W. B. Yeats.
Seemed Important for Some Reason
Koi No Yokan- Japanese // the sudden knowledge upon meeting someone that the two of you are destined to fall in love.
Onsra- Boro // loving for the last time; that bittersweet feeling you get when you know a love won’t last.
L’esprit de escalier- French // the inescapable feeling you get when you leave a conversation then think about all the things you should have said.
La douleur exquise- French // the heartbreaking pain of wanting someone you can’t have.
Onsra- Boro // loving for the last time; that bittersweet feeling you get when you know a love won’t last.
L’esprit de escalier- French // the inescapable feeling you get when you leave a conversation then think about all the things you should have said.
La douleur exquise- French // the heartbreaking pain of wanting someone you can’t have.
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
In education, with its codes of rules emanating from a government office, with its large classes and fixed curriculum and overworked teachers, with its determination to produce a dead level of glib mediocrity, the lack of reverence for the child is all but universal. Reverence requires imagination and vital warmth; it requires most imagination in respect of those who have least actual achievement or power. -Bertrand Russell, 1916
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Writing a Love Poem
Sometimes it is a thing
you set out to do
walking--
the right of way
in some forgotten land.
Sometimes it is a thing
given--
mementos
Today it is a thing
you set out to do
walking--
the right of way
in some forgotten land.
Sometimes it is a thing
given--
mementos
one, two and three
and then the good-bye.
Today it is a thing
floating--
the motes of dust
the motes of dust
in the space between us.
Tomorrow it is
released
an exhalation--
mantra or chant--
less than
yesterday, more
than tomorrow.
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