Metamorphosis, Pt. 4

Being
moved by a Dylan Thomas quote

while the Zimmerman who borrowed
both his inspiration and his name
croons overhead in this cafe
fueled by community rather than corporation.

A reminder that "You can find
beautiful instruments anywhere in the world."

Yes, beautiful conversations with beautiful friends
that embolden my resolve
to embrace mystery and revel in complexity.
Translating Baudelaire direct,
marveling at de Tocqueville,

Dancing away the despair.
Daring to hold both the light and the dark
within my weary soul.
Turn the corner and find beauty again.

Long Way Off // Gungor

So I’m born this bundle of skin and sinew, and then after a few years I learn to speak to these other egocentric mammals who have also learned to speak. And together we come up with grand stories and, who knows, maybe experience bits of revelation from beyond the vail. But these days of ours are very short and our experience very limited. We live a few moments, and then like mist, we disappear into the Mystery from whence we came.

So why are we so arrogant?

Why do we, the mist, the sinew, the breath think that the Mystery is so small as to fit into our little brains through the extremely limited data set of information that we have access to as we clutch for our lives to this ball of dirt soaring precariously through space and time? Because as clever as we can be, we are also fools.

- Michael Gungor,

Long Way Off

The erudite composed a thesis
Everything we see is all, all, all there is
But as an apophatic mystic
We’re a long way

We’re a long way

We’re a long way off

When the waves of time
Wash the shores stark clean
Of the memories, the last of me
With my castles gone to the constant sea
Will you stay with me
Stay with me 

Mysticism keeps men sane...

Mysticism keeps men sane.  As long as you have mystery you have health; when you destroy mystery you create morbidity. 

The ordinary man has always been sane because the ordinary man has always been a mystic.  He has permitted the twilight.  He has always had one foot in earth and the other in fairyland.  He has always left himself free to doubt his gods; but (unlike the agnostic of to-day) free also to believe in them.  He has always cared more for truth than for consistency.  If he saw two truths that seemed to contradict each other, he would take the two truths and the contradiction along with them.  His spiritual sight is steroscopic, like his physical sight: he sees two different pictures at once and yet sees all the better for that.  Thus he has always believed that there was such a thing as fate, but such a thing as free will also.  Thus he believed that childeren were indeed the kingdom of heaven, but nevertheless ought to be obedient to the kingdom of earth.  He admired youth because it was young and age because it was not. 

It is exactly this balance of apparent contradictions that has been the whole buoyancy of the healthy man.  The whole secret of mysticism is this: that man can understand everything by the help of what he does not understand.

- GK Chesterton, Orthodoxy

1.16.13

Today starts with yesterday.  Under an unusual compulsion, I jump into the shower before bed. I blow dry my bangs back - they're too long - and let the rest of my hair dry au naturale while I sleep.

Sleep in just a bit.  Begin morning routine, slightly thrown off by the tres au naturale hair.  Decide to curl it, pinning the bangs back.  It turns out well and faster than expected.  Makeup.  I realize, with my bangs back, I can do a smoky eye...first time in months.

Hair looks good.  Makeup looks good.  What do I have that's clean and will hide the holiday weight?  What to wear?  I pick a mustard yellow, lacy skirt.  Grab black tights, shirt, grey sweater (one of five), black boots.  Not too shabby.

Samara, you could drive in.  I could.  Forget the bus, I'm driving this morning.  Turn on the car so it will melt.

Keys x2, (brand new) iPhone, purse, book.

Not too bad of a commute... praying today goes better than the last two days.  Bob's back today.  It'll be a better day.

"I Will Wait" comes on.  Theme song of the season.

Paint my spirit gold...

I'm crying at the 4th street exit.

Park the car.  Dry my eyes.

Work away work away.  Compliments on the skirt "Oh, thank you..."  Work away work away.

Work is good - it is a better day.

Lunch - no LBD. Crack open the book for the first time.  Embrace fiction.  It's different, but I barely make it back to work on time.  Then I have a hard time leaving the book-scape and focusing on work.

"At some point you have to choose between life and fiction.  The two are very close, but they never actually touch."  I hear my mom quoting.  I'd rather not choose.  Eh, date a girl who reads.

Work away work away.  Cross off to-do list.  The afternoon goes fast.

Join the parade northbound.  Random musings during "five for the drive."  Why can people accept the abstractness of music but not of narratives?  They don't sit around frustrated asking - "but what do the notes mean?"  No, it's only when you complicate things with spoken language that people expect the speaker to have things figured out, sorted, wrapped in a bow.  They're not content to pass through the language and see what sticks afterward.  "Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept mystery."  Listen to the music.  Look at the paintings.  Read the books.  Watch the films.  Accept the mystery.

Arrive at destination = another silent soap box session over.

Massage appointment.  Car accidents stink, but I can't complain about consistent massages.  My therapist says I look "British."  For the win.

And finally... home.

1.16.13

"Once more the darkness is dispersed; once more the light is created. Let the people that sat in the darkness of ignorance now look upon the light of knowledge. The things of old have passed away; behold, all things are made new. He who has no mother in heaven is now born without father on earth. The laws of nature are overthrown, for the upper world must be filled with citizens. He who is without flesh becomes incarnate; the Word puts on a body; the Invisible is seen; He whom no hand can touch is handled; the Timeless has a beginning; the Son of God becomes Son of Man -- Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today and forever." - Gregory of Nazianzus, Bishop of Constantinople

ahhh! Merry Christmas everyone!!!

more Bright Star

This is perhaps the best explanation of poetry I have ever heard. It comes from a scene in the movie Bright Star (and can be found on the soundtrack, "Negative Capability) where John Keats (Ben Whishaw) is trying to teach Fanny (Abbie Cornish) a bit about poetry when Fanny says...

"I still don’t know how to work out a poem…"

"A poem needs understanding through the senses… The point of diving in a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore, but to be in the lake—to… luxuriate in the sensation of water. You do not “work” the lake out. It is an experience beyond thought. Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept mystery..."

ahhh...... yes!