From the day of Her budding She has longed for the sun
Her being is drawn towards the light
The very core of Her aches for the life-giving warmth
In the night-time she hopes for a light to shine on Her
But all that shines is not the Sun
All that has warmth does not give life
So even though she may dance in the reflection and the distraction of the moment
She knows that it will pass
It will not beckon her to put down roots into the dark rich soil
She waits for the morning
She longs for Apollo that she might be made whole
Her face ever toward the sun, seeking the heat and life her Soul craves
Yet to see Her, to know Her is life-giving
The Sunflower is strength
A symbol of beauty and faith and life and vitality and intelligence
She already possesses that which she seeks, out There in the heavenly Sun
Orbiting Her eternally, yet never accessible
She does not understand that she is venerated like she does Apollo
She is longed for like the Sun
That there are those who turn and follow Her movements across their skies
Who mark their days by Her appearance and in Her leaving
Rest O Sunflower, put down your roots
Allow your blues, browns and golden facets to grace the green of your new growth
You are already everything you desire
Plato’s Groove with Aaron Dick free-styling on the keys
A little over two years ago I began to feel in a totally new direction. Ego shattered, directionless, like falling in a dream. There was nothing solid to cling to. I began to slowly try things that seemed odd to my old self. Something called me into a new way of being a me. My hair grew outside the older restrictions I had placed on it along with my Soul. In this new and strange land I began to find solid and hauntingly familiar steps to take. It was like coming home to a place I had never been. I had written this piece some years before but it had no voice. I had some vague wish that somehow my very talented children might take up my writing and give it life but that was not for them to do. I remember how nervous I was when Aaron started playing how strange it was for me to attempt it. A couple glasses of red wine helped and we created this together. I began to find my voice, even if it was timid and unsure, it was heard. Now I do this and more on a weekly basis and think very little about it. What was dangerous and new has become comfortable. What I know though is that there are new worlds I need to explore and inhabit still. I also know that moving from this horizon to the next will feel exactly like it did before I came here. And I will never figure it out before I get there. It is only in the going that I will know.
The clock ticks.
It fades in and out of my awareness.
The clock ticks.
Marking Time as It winds down to finally rest in Eternity.
The clock ticks.
Independent, without regard It plucks the very strings of the Cosmos.
The clock ticks.
Time now divided makes meter possible and cadence contingent.
The clock ticks.
The fabric of possibility is woven, lining the womb that is time.
The clock ticks.
Sacred Space emerges between the beats of past and future. Seeds can only be sown in the Now.
The clock ticks.
Slumbering Soul, never at rest, seeks completion of Its’ chord unresolved.
The clock ticks.
All existence is in motion, potential, moving toward harmony or dissonance, creativity or chaos, Life or death.
The clock ticks.
The metronome beats out the call to choose or not to choose. Both require a choice.
The clock ticks.
Whether background or fore, whether conscious or dreaming, It makes possible the awareness of Plato’s Groove.
The clock ticks.
Out of the shadows Life calls to life. There is underlying order within the chaos. The pilgrim seeks that which has always been hidden within view.
The clock ticks.
The artist’s heart does not create ex nihilo but rather chooses one and not the other, manifesting particular harmonies that resonate and call them into Being.
The clock ticks.
To act or refrain from motion is the artist’s prerogative. Variation ads pigment, or not, to the evolving tapestry.
The clock ticks.
Soul becomes more harmonious; at rest in the body, powerful its resonance with the Real. Dissonance no longer a mystery to be feared but rather consciously strummed to accentuate and more clearly articulate the Soul’s growing chorus.
The clock ticks.
Oh, Traveler strain through the dissonance to hear the notes which resonate with the pattern of your soul. Choose it at the cost of all others.
The clock ticks.
The clock ticks.
The clock ticks.
Each Soul’s resolution is to cultivate and balance It’s own polytonic sound in preparation for joining the romp with all other pure souls in harmony, dance, in art, in mathematics, and all other lenses through which we glimpse the mystery of the Eternal celebration that is Life.
I have a question for you
It was put to me, now I lay it at Your beautiful feet
In quiet expectation and trust I await Your response
From my lips to Your heart I cast it
“What is the difference?”
Does it matter
What does it mean
And like a pebble it breaks the surface of the Deep
Fluttering, slowly sinking, falling into the silent Unknown
Quiet, unmoving I remain
The surface of the water now still, a mirror
I gaze un-blinking into Her eyes
Green, brown, and golden windows
Falling like the pebble I sink into the Unknowing
Silence . . . Senses forsaken
“Nothing . . . and Everything,” She says
You have given all and you have also received back
Yet I needed not
You have scaled the heights of the exquisite and ridden on its golden light
And you have been flayed and spilled out by grief too terrible for words
But I am here
You have sought Me in exotic far off places and the adventure it brought
Even in the familiar paths within your reach your steps sought Me out
I never moved
You have dreamed, and built, and created magical things
And you have seen it all laid low in the dust
Yet I remain
You have chased the ancient knowledge, gathering together secrets of the Ages
But in the end only learned of your ignorance
I have watched it all
You ask what is the difference
I tell you there is none
The meaning you seek is fleeting like the Spring flowers
What matters is still beyond your comprehension
You ask what is the difference
I tell you all is changed
You have come to Me
You now sit by My still waters
You know the I Am
We are and shall ever be – One
So go my Love, seek, climb, create, and learn
Explore the world of the senses, the playground of the body and the mind
Thrill yourself with new adventure, people, and places
Walk the barren paths of solitude and grief
Exult in your victories and feel the pain of your failure
Fear not, cast it away from you
You are mine and I am Yours
My Love for you is all that has ever really mattered
Two countries I knew
Two roads I walked
Both were exquisite and fine like the edge of a razor. Exquisite was the joy. Exquisite was the pain
Both flayed me, opened my soul to heights and to depths for which there are no words
One was ruled by the Sun
One was ruled by the Moon
One was filled with light, and joy, and the thrill of growing things
It is hard to breathe there, the air is thin and the light hurts your eyes
One was dark with a sweet, saturating, sadness heavy as the earth
It’s hard to breathe there under that weight, in the stillness, in the dark
One Kingdom promised the answer to dreams and desires of the heart
One Kingdom answered the dread of my deepest fears
Back and forth, back and forth, long I journeyed the bi-polar pathway
As high as I soared, even touching the sun, that far I fell, down, down, down
Longing’s ache, movement, hope’s teasing tug pulled me into the glorious fire, my wax melted and I fell
Great was the fall, epic was the ruin, dry, dusty, darkness, solitude, empty hollow ache
Long I lay there, time’s ticking warped, stretched into intervals that only the shifting Earth can reckon
As the mountains grew and continents shifted, dust settled over me, nothing grew but the rocks
Only silence and solitude and stillness were my companions, grief my nourishment
Then something stirred in me, a movement, an energy, a foreign force that frightened yet awakened me
I rose from the dark earth and made my way into the place between places, that space between light and dark
A region rarely traversed. The powerful pull of the poles seeking to claim me for the left or the right, the good or the bad, for gods or the devils
But I refused, something had changed, I rebelled against them both and was reborn on the utterance of the word No
Neither was my mortal home, neither was the land of my true habitation
The new way was neither/nor, but Both at once
The path, at first unstable, unfathomable, impossible like a drunk man on a tightrope
I learned to let go my clinging, my addiction to knowing, to allow the currents of emotion to wash over me
Stillness, the only way to move in that place between the paradox
And as I surrendered movement I was moved by forces larger than I, changed and rearranged
My pattern resonating with that which has called to me from forever
The lie of the either/or is tenacious and It’s powerful spell can only be starved slowly, never broken
The black sorcery practiced by the ancients continues still, hidden in view
The promise, the lure of distraction, life lived falsely, divided, unaware, asleep on the square, a bird in a cage
The Kingdom of Both is among us, can you not perceive it? Awaken to reality’s dream
Come walk with me here. I need a companion. We need companions to help us balance along the razors edge
Come and lay down your striving, lose all, and find everything here in the Kingdom of Both
