Solitude

Ambivalence (Audio)

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I have found that most of what I write is an attempt to be descriptive of some process at work in me.  And then if I go back and look at it I find that many times it was in some ways prophetic in terms of where I needed to go next.  Or perhaps it is that this student is slow and can only take what I need in small doses and must return again and again until the lesson is finally learned.

When I wrote this piece some years ago there was a stubborn anger and a blind faith that refused to move from where I was.  It was during the beginning of the rebirth of me or at least of my awareness of the process.  Today it is less desperate anger and more a statement of faith that somehow living in the paradox is the path for me.  That in deep places I already know and am slowly developing a new language to contain the sights of the undiscovered territories of my Soul.  In the end I wonder if the idea of “choice” is a bit overrated.  Especially if the conscious options keep one blinded to that which is hidden within view.

Am I terribly weak, or terribly strong?

I am pulled between forces stronger than the earth.

Yet I am not utterly destroyed.

I may yet lose my mind or I may find it.

I am ambivalent yet I choose.

I choose ambivalence.

I wait.

I will not choose out of fear of loss.

I do not fear loss.

I fear being lost.

And the man is lost.  His fears have come upon him.

Who is he?  Where will he go?

What will he do?  What does he want?

He knows.  He waits.

He is seeking the answer to the un-thought known.

Born and Raised

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The summer this album was released my eldest son was doing an internship with Mick Management in Brooklyn, NY.  Mick was managing the release and tour for John and it was a great opportunity for the boy to be around and learn some of the ropes.  My children, especially the boys,  have been responsible for keeping me somewhat updated with what is going on in the music world over the past 10-15 years.  They grew up on Parliament, Earth Wind and Fire, Old school R&B, Merle Haggard, and George Jones.  I taught them the three or four chords I knew on the guitar and they both passed me up in about a week.  They have become some of the most exceptional humans I will ever know.  Courageous, creative souls who are already on their way.  They are twenty years ahead of where I was at their age.  I am so grateful for that.

So, they had introduced me to John Mayer years ago when he was in his twenties.  I have always appreciated his poet’s sensibilities.  Intelligent, creative, with some Soul.  What I noticed about this release was that Mr. Mayer had matured.  The themes were not about High School or College or bodies being wonderlands, and being lost in the angst of young adulthood. The themes were deeper and multilayered.  He added a little country to the mix and it works exquisitely.  I enjoy the whole album but this is one song that elicits emotion from me every time I hear it.

“Walt Grace’s Submarine Test.”  It at first glance is a rather hokie song but from the first time I heard it, I was moved by it.   The themes of solitude and personal responsibility.  “Cause when you’re done with this world, the next is up to you . . .”  I don’t think we will discover who we are around other people.  The desert and the grief of loneliness seems to be pathway that leads to the “next world.”  Enjoy and be encouraged.  Though the way may seem dark and dry and without direction from the Outside, that which lies within will guide.  Living between the paradox may provide pathways never imagined.  Be Groovy!

Bubbles in the Dark (Audio)

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There are times when my pathway is hidden.  When the next step seems to lead off a cliff in any direction.  I find at such times that there is an anxious impulse that will arise.  I will tend to consider things in dialectical categories; yes – no, good – bad, right – wrong, etc.  There are many times when reason is appropriate and can be a reliable guide.  But, there have been others when the choices break down and there is no good choice or even bad choice.  I think maybe the hardest thing to do sometimes is nothing.  The impulse to move, to act, to make a choice can become quite strong.  But how does one choose?  The wise folks of old have left some clues.  Be still  . . . Don’t be anxious about tomorrow . . . Go out not knowing . . . wait and your strength will be renewed . . . the farmer plants the seed but the Creator makes it grow . . . death before rebirth . . . the Creator will complete what was begun in you.  One of my mentors taught me a long time ago that if I felt like I must do something then run like hell.  There is less desperation now than when I wrote what follows.  There is a quietness and an awareness of the impulse to jump.  So for now I sit in the ferment of me content to watch what might bubble up.  Be Groovy!

Ferment

In the dark

Conversion

From one to another

Sweetness transformed

Energy released expands

Bubbles in the darkness

Changing, rearranging

Separate, watching, or not

It continues

Out of my hands

The fruits have been pressed

Latent potentials emerge

In keeping with the fruit’s nature

Patience, quiet Self

Watch the bubbles but refrain

The ferment requires no assistance

Bubbles in the dark

Reveal the Soul of the grape

 

 

Tap-Tap-Tapping (Audio)

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Обои завязанные глаза, девушка на поле ...

I wish I could write something beautiful
I wish I could write something so real that it would change how things are
I can see it in my mind, a picture so clear, I can taste it and inhale its fragrances
The desires of my heart have burned me, they have hollowed me out
The landscape of my soul has been altered
Or perhaps it is just the overgrowth that has been cleared
For now I seem to see better the rise and fall and shape of me
It seemed as if the fire would consume me and I would be no more
As the last ember died and the wind hurried away the final wisp of smoke
I remained, still there, naked, scarred, and raw, but separate somehow from all that had been
I found only dry bitter ashes and the black barren solitude of my grief
I wandered in that place, alone for many days and many nights watering the ground with my tears
Remembering what was and what could have been, wishing for what is now, Not

I hope I will write something beautiful
I hope that my Soul will find Her voice and learn to sing a new song, one that has always been
I can hear a simple sweet strain rise and fall, strangely familiar like a dream of home
For now I make my way like a blind man, sight requiring new senses
Cautiously my words tap – tap – tap before me, through the ash and the unknown
Seeking their way, reaching out, feeling for the next step along this new path
Scribbles on a page, symbols seeking structure enough to contain the melody of Her
Clever words and ego were burned in the clearing of me, the illusion of my intellect brought low
Yet with what small vision remains I catch glimpses of green arising from the soot
Life indomitable pushes through the ruin and back into the light, buds break and blossom
The landscape is bare but not barren, even the ruin enriches and reveals the soil of me
Salt tears are still needed to water this place and in my laughter new seeds are sown
What was is no longer, what is to come is yet to be, so Now patient I wait, just tap – tap – tapping

Specters in the Dark (Audio)

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A cry, a soundless wail in the distance

Calls, seeking relief, redress

Images, memories emerge, awaken

Wanting to enter

Wraith at the horizon, the boundary of vision

Treads, leaving no prints except those familiar pathways in my soul

I grieve the dead

I mourn the now cold life that was

Ought is now not and haunts me still

But what have I do to with specters in the dark

Except, breathless, trembling I turn

Knowing the wraith is me

Weeping alone there in the shadows