Saturday, November 9, 2013

Standing On The

Standing on the highest hill 
with a sense of wonder
You can see everything 

is made in God
Head back down the roadside 

and give thanks for it all

- Van Morrison, 

* * *
We are bounded by the parenthesis of silence on either side of our lives: all that was before us, all that will be after us. Life goes on and on, but we'll be dumb to it. And I am dumb to tell a weather's wind how time has
ticked a heaven round the stars. Yet tell I will of the wind at the top of a hill, for when it is silent and we are no more, such a wind will blow on the face of another and if we don't leave behind some clue, some message about such things, such winds how will they know that endless others have stood on that spot and dreamed as they dream, loved as they love, lived as they live? Aren't poetry and song summery words, the summery breeze against you face reaching out across time to say: I, too, lived.

* * *

To be fucked is to be blind. Your pain, your fear, your worry is a darkening filter. You exist, but do not live. You have eyes, but do not see; ears, but cannot hear. Understand this, my fucked fellow, you are not here to see as others do, to live as others do, to hear what others hear, but simply to understand it is for you to do. You alone. There may be echoes and rhymes of others that comfort, support and sustain you (just look ot the right on this page and you'll see the listing of all who have sustained me), but the task of seeing is left to you to figure out.

What is it you see?
Tell me what you see.

A hundred years ago, on a cold, rainy, windy November night, I stood on a roof and understood for the first time that all that I saw, all that existed, all that had ever been, was from a single root and traces of that root could be found in everything: atomic residuals of the Big Bang. There are stories, the metaphysics of it all that explain the why of the bang. Beautiful stories of reunion, communion, of many rivers to cross, of prodigals and if you believe, then you believe and you have guideposts, touchstones, healing wells to help you navigate. I don't think you need to be a believer in the sense of religiosity in order to see wonder, to find connections between the myriad forms of this life, to see it as all being one: Life.

It is a beautiful thing to stand on a hill, to have traveled to that place (wherever it is for you) and seen, if only for a moment, that from one - all; all - one. It steadies you and fills you with a peace beyond my ability to say. It is cellular. But you have to go back, my new bodhisattva, you have to go back down that hillside. What you saw wasn't just for you.

What is it you see?
Tell me what you see.

* * *

You are the weather's wind and the heaven ticked round the stars. You are the hill and the trail. You are the steps taken, the skinned knee, the briar and the bramble. You are the fall taken. You are the thanks given. You are another line in the field of time. You are alive. You are eternal.

And if things are fucked, it is only for a little while. The question before you is this: Is that little while the length of your life, or just the time it takes to head back down the roadside and give thanks for it all?

* * *

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