One might percieve consciousness as a metaphor for light – a candle flame, the lightbulb, the Sun. It's really the other way around. Physical light—the candle flame (a tongue of fire,) the light bulb, and the emination from the Sun is the expression and result of consciousness and awareness.
The first time this dawned on me, We burst, Cause contrasting Effect, and the Cosmos sprang into being. Remember?
Funny, that at the beginning, there was such division and separation—a splitting first. Wouldn't it seem more logical that the initial steps of Creation would involve more “gathering” and “putting together?” But that was not the case. And remains so.
Our cells have always followed after this kind of pattern. (Anything less than a cell is not life, and cells do not merge to grow, but tear.)
So then, why fear Darkness? It is the arena for Light.
Why resist silence? It is the space for sound, and voices, and music. Your name.
And Stillness? It is required for the Dance.
What of Lack? It is the Cup that is filled to overflowing.
Why fear the Valley of the Shadow of Death? It is Life.
--Marty Kummetz (firescarecrow)
Showing posts with label Creativity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Creativity. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Monday, May 4, 2009
a.m. cows
Inspired by the smallest fragment of a dream...I tugged a little on that thread, and this ballad almost wrote itself.
a.m. cows
In the gentle dawning quiet,
a Prophet wanders through the stalls,
strangely, pointing out the straight
from twisty halls.
Who’s this calling?
The Whys and Hows!
“This way to the a.m. cows!”
Almost, almost as if I’d never
left, I softly fade right in.
Drawn through a very narrow hall,
into this pure and silent place,
where timber rafters, limber walls,
breathe with timeless, supple grace.
Morning’s here, and it’s a glory.
“Let's hear some more or your life story,
and not meaning your biography!”
You'd s’pose this would evoke forlorning?
Not so, it’s just the whisper of each morning,
quite simply all that’s ever asked, you see.
Meekly shuffling, my heart pumping,
“Sorry, I’ve brought nothing here today,
guess I'll need to think up something.”
“Think up? Phooey!” He spits out.
Then I hear familiar shout
of my friend, the whys and hows.
“This way to the a.m. cows!”
He smiles, then lightly falls in hay,
straightens out his robes white cloth,
and wryly looks my way...
“When thoughts use you, you're not quite here,
Use the mind, not it use you,
and bring around what's truly new,
a poem, say, or an answer will appear.
It's you who've asked 'What is the way?'
So, be calm, and tell it quick—
yet, we’ve all day.”
More logical than it first seems,
I sort of know just what he means,
for, the whole tale’s here right now,
“Is that a great, big a.m. cow?”
“When one’s tense—past and pre, not present,
or in the ‘morrow dwelling, is that sin?”
I ask Zeke.
He nods.
I’m feelin’ kinda' wise somehow,
so, you know I pipe right in—
“This way to the a.m. cows!”
Soothy’s jumpin’, his staff thumpin’,
twirling, white robe flying,
now, I’m just dyin'—
laughing as he spins around,
several inches off the ground!
Then, mid barefoot pirouette,
he stops to sing--
“I don’t think that’s everything…”
Then a silence, a hint of death,
reflecting in those loving eyes
what's garnered here in this place’
very breath:
“Hear, let no man put asunder!”
(Here, insert some joyous thunder.)
“When not whole, one’s not Holy, therefore, wholly grieve!”
(Ahem, you’ll see…)
“Not Now did subtle snake deceive.”
Sudden movement broke my trance,
“Now we must resume the dance!”
Said the whys and hows.
“This way to the a.m. cows!”
“Don’t you think this solves all myst’ry?
Fills the holes in our brief hist’ry?
Please, dispense with all forlorn!
Now, with every breath let’s be reborn!”
“Not now, you now know all about.”
Then he gave a poignant shout.
“Always know, I am you Child, see?
Why not put all your how’s and why’s on me?”
Such simple stores from whys and hows,
it’s this way to the a.m. cows!
“Have I penned this familiar poem?”
I ask, “or read it, somewhere, someplace?”
“Yes and yes,” says the Sage, “you’re never alone,
here in this lofty, storing-space.”
How he got in I tried to guess.
His eyes on me gave utmost rest,
and whispered, “all this straw and hay you see?
So perfect for a baby’s nest.”
Always in the dawning quiet,
walks the Seer among the stalls,
leading seekers toward the straight
and narrow halls.
So all, seek your prophet—
Ask some whys and hows.
Hear ye, hear ye…Here ye, Now!
“This way to the a.m. Cows!”
--Marty Kummetz
--2007
a.m. cows
In the gentle dawning quiet,
a Prophet wanders through the stalls,
strangely, pointing out the straight
from twisty halls.
Who’s this calling?
The Whys and Hows!
“This way to the a.m. cows!”
Almost, almost as if I’d never
left, I softly fade right in.
Drawn through a very narrow hall,
into this pure and silent place,
where timber rafters, limber walls,
breathe with timeless, supple grace.
Morning’s here, and it’s a glory.
“Let's hear some more or your life story,
and not meaning your biography!”
You'd s’pose this would evoke forlorning?
Not so, it’s just the whisper of each morning,
quite simply all that’s ever asked, you see.
Meekly shuffling, my heart pumping,
“Sorry, I’ve brought nothing here today,
guess I'll need to think up something.”
“Think up? Phooey!” He spits out.
Then I hear familiar shout
of my friend, the whys and hows.
“This way to the a.m. cows!”
He smiles, then lightly falls in hay,
straightens out his robes white cloth,
and wryly looks my way...
“When thoughts use you, you're not quite here,
Use the mind, not it use you,
and bring around what's truly new,
a poem, say, or an answer will appear.
It's you who've asked 'What is the way?'
So, be calm, and tell it quick—
yet, we’ve all day.”
More logical than it first seems,
I sort of know just what he means,
for, the whole tale’s here right now,
“Is that a great, big a.m. cow?”
“When one’s tense—past and pre, not present,
or in the ‘morrow dwelling, is that sin?”
I ask Zeke.
He nods.
I’m feelin’ kinda' wise somehow,
so, you know I pipe right in—
“This way to the a.m. cows!”
Soothy’s jumpin’, his staff thumpin’,
twirling, white robe flying,
now, I’m just dyin'—
laughing as he spins around,
several inches off the ground!
Then, mid barefoot pirouette,
he stops to sing--
“I don’t think that’s everything…”
Then a silence, a hint of death,
reflecting in those loving eyes
what's garnered here in this place’
very breath:
“Hear, let no man put asunder!”
(Here, insert some joyous thunder.)
“When not whole, one’s not Holy, therefore, wholly grieve!”
(Ahem, you’ll see…)
“Not Now did subtle snake deceive.”
Sudden movement broke my trance,
“Now we must resume the dance!”
Said the whys and hows.
“This way to the a.m. cows!”
“Don’t you think this solves all myst’ry?
Fills the holes in our brief hist’ry?
Please, dispense with all forlorn!
Now, with every breath let’s be reborn!”
“Not now, you now know all about.”
Then he gave a poignant shout.
“Always know, I am you Child, see?
Why not put all your how’s and why’s on me?”
Such simple stores from whys and hows,
it’s this way to the a.m. cows!
“Have I penned this familiar poem?”
I ask, “or read it, somewhere, someplace?”
“Yes and yes,” says the Sage, “you’re never alone,
here in this lofty, storing-space.”
How he got in I tried to guess.
His eyes on me gave utmost rest,
and whispered, “all this straw and hay you see?
So perfect for a baby’s nest.”
Always in the dawning quiet,
walks the Seer among the stalls,
leading seekers toward the straight
and narrow halls.
So all, seek your prophet—
Ask some whys and hows.
Hear ye, hear ye…Here ye, Now!
“This way to the a.m. Cows!”
--Marty Kummetz
--2007
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