“Longing, we say, because desire is full
of endless distances.”

01 September 2008


Day Thirteen: Joy.
"The firmament/That spins at the end of a string in Your hand/That You offer to mine saying,/"Did you drop this--surely/This is yours."The brilliant turning wheel the light the air everything moving in a dance of light years and cosmic axis (bold as love). Z. learns from B2 to drink the dew from the tall grass along the way there and back without a lift from me and bounding along the home stretch i hear her bones growing and think about how the horses in kentucky are strong because of the calcium water and the dream i had last night about trees falling and dancing on water. there was subterfuge and predators but not for me and thats a switch. the pack followed me down the mountain along the trees up the stairs to the old place in the city where downstairs a big wedding commenced and your friends were there. again this morning woke way early but my head was cloudy and it was holiday so i went back to the white cloud in the cold dark of four a.m. breathing easy. september. wheel of fortune and the hearth fire, the seventh chakra wide open and streaming Light, both ways. Last night at dinner i learned that my grandfather drove a train across russia to take the italian troops to fight and along the way the train got stuck and while my grandfather fed the engine to keep it alive the thousand men died waiting in the cars.
"And if the question were asked: What is more real, the mundane or the sublime? most would hesitate before they gave an answer. On the one side, details: say, the aftermath of a breakfast, dirty chipped plates in the sink, their rims encrusted with egg yolk. Against this, the unnameable: small aching heart with boasts, what can you know? Outside the cage of everything we ever heard or saw, beyond, outside, above, there lies the real, hiding as long as we shall live, there stretch and trail the millions of names of God burning across the eons. When all through this our end will come before we even know the names of us.

For many the egg yolk prevails." -L.M.

"Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well." -V.V.G.

"The perfection of the Absolute where all Becoming stops and pure Being, immutable, timeless, unchanging, hangs forever like a ripe peach upon the bough." -E.A.

"...and the whole incident was incredibly frazzling and angst-rod and filled almost a whole mead notebook and is here recounted in only its barest psycho-skeletal outline." -D.F.W.

"At the top of the mountain, we are all snow leopards." -H.S.T.

"Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live." -D.T.
"Cometh a voice: My children, hear; From the crowded street and the close-packed mart I call you back with my message clear, back to my lap and my loving heart. Long have ye left me, journeying on by range and river and grassy plain, to the teeming towns where the rest have gone - come back, come back to my arms again. So shall ye lose the foolish needs that gnaw your souls; and my touch shall serve to heal the fretted nerve. Treading the turf that ye once loved well, instead of the stones of the city's street, ye shall hear nor din nor drunken yell, but the wind that croons in the ripening wheat. I that am old have seen long since ruin of palaces made with hands for the soldier-king and the priest and prince whose cities crumble in desert sands. But still the furrow in many a clime yields softly under the ploughman's feet; still there is seeding and harvest time, and the wind still croons in the ripening wheat. The works of man are but little worth; for a time they stand, for a space endure; but turn once more to your mother - Earth, my gifts are gracious, my works are sure. Instead of the strife and pain I give you peace, with its blessing sweet. Come back, come back to my arms again, for the wind still croons in the ripening wheat."
-John Sandes, The Earth-Mother (excerpt, 1918)