It's Elemental

Tag: Love

  • a tiny window

    a tiny window

    a tiny window gathers the world
    echoes morning’s rush of life
    amazingly, my fingers trace your carved shoulder
    like they have never known geometry
    somebody somewhere is getting coffee,
    walking the dog, dressing for a long day –
    but not we, whose worlds have just collided
    under the gaze of a tiny window
    that no one is looking through
    because we are beyond ourselves now
    and I know this by the way your hair
    threads lightly across the bow of your cheek
    by the way every gesture becomes music
    and because when you smile I am lost
    again, you have taken my watch, and found forever in the bargain –
    I pretend to be offended because my world is now upside down
    and I can’t understand why everything else isn’t falling
    drawn inexorably by the velvet honey of your eyes
    this must be what yes is
    this must be the future twining round our ankles
    lacing up our hands in unspoken prayer
    while beyond our reach the coiled leopard of time
    anchors claws to earth for its inevitable leap
    why should time be linear anyway?
    for it is the timeless in us that is now rejoicing
    in this spiraling pressing of bodies and souls
    upwards into the long arms of the sky
    through a tiny window

    1w


    a tiny window gathers the world
    echoes morning’s rush of life
    amazingly, my fingers trace your carved shoulder
    like they have never known geometry

    somebody somewhere is getting coffee,
    walking the dog, glancing at a watch –
    but not we, whose worlds have just collided
    under the gaze of a tiny window
    that no one is looking through

    because we are beyond ourselves now
    and I know this by the way your hair
    threads lightly across the bow of your cheek
    by the way every gesture becomes music
    and because when you smile I am lost

    again, you have taken my watch, and found forever in the bargain – 
    I pretend to be offended because my world is now upside down
    and I can’t understand why everything else isn’t falling
    drawn inexorably by the velvet honey of your eyes

    this must be what yes is
    this must be the future twining round our ankles
    lacing up our hands in unspoken prayer
    while beyond our reach the coiled leopard of time
    anchors claws to earth for its inevitable leap

    we care not of its landing
    for it is the timeless in us now rejoicing
    in this spiraling pressing of bodies and souls
    upwards into the long arms of the sky
    through a tiny window

  • Object and Process oriented languages and human development

    (Note, the Blackfoot people have a process-oriented language, which is much more strongly verb-based, while English and most other languages are object/noun based.)

    Blackfoot Indian Brave
    Blackfoot Indian Brave

    A friend of mine asked:

    Do the Blackfoot people go through a phase where they need to have conceptual boxes, and then learn to transcend the need to reify these artificial demarcations, or do they simply use a different process all together from the very start? So much of western development theory assumes that moving beyond nice neat conceptions is a phase that we can move beyond, but assumes it is a necessary phase; perhaps it is only necessary for those who are raised to think in a linear fashion?

    Which prompted the following response:

    I have this feeling that on a macrocosmic scale, humanity does have to “go through” a stage of categorical reification and abstraction in order to develop certain potentials relating to our “task” if you will, of becoming beings of freedom and love.  However, this doesn’t mean that every single human being has to do this, or in the same way (ex: the West has played such a huge role in this particular part of the human drama, while other areas have different things to bring to the play).

    I imagine that it would be possible to ‘use different processes from the start’, and while there will be similarities in developmental stages, these won’t always match up exactly depending upon what is being brought forth by the language, culture, and individual elements, and so forth.  It’s not like a Blackfoot can’t identify ‘a chair’ if they don’t want to… it’s just that doing so is a reduction or rather abstraction from a different way of understanding, just like if I were to reduce you to a particular image I had of you that came from one specific interaction, and then communicated only this aspect of you when I spoke about you to others or thought of you myself.

    Both the ‘objective’ or reified view of we weirdo Westerners, AND the process or time-sensitive view of people like the Blackfoot are ‘correct’.  The question is more, to me, about the overall appropriateness of each view given microcosmic and macrocosmic pictures of individual and collective development.  Sometimes, identifying “this chair” as a completely abstracted and separate, non-evolving object is appropriate.  Sometimes, seeing the flow of events that entwine themselves into the constantly becoming activity and relations that make up the chair through time is more appropriate.

    BUT, the imporant thing is that we develop the capacity to have both these (and other) options open to us, so we aren’t locked in by our habits of perception.  We — humanity as a whole — has won the capacity to objectify the world through a long and arduous and pain-filled path.  It is something that we shouldn’t abandon — rather we need to learn how to use this capacity responsibly, ultimately in service to the development of our freedom to become beings who can love not by virtue of a given nature (this would describe an angel), but through what has come to us only by virtue of the path we have walked, i.e. in freedom.

    Of course, this just a picture, a way to imagine.

  • swallowing the sun

    what spirit speaks the heart re-echoes
    its lofty chambers with choric ringing 
    twist and fold in timely rhythm
    the fountain’s deep moods springing  

    unshadowed now, revealed and waking
    all forge and fire, veils rent aside
    the swallowed sun, see! – beaming again
    ‘cross the rivers, stride in stride

    the call’s heard round from distant shores
    the ferryman’s change cast far away
    for the light, in the light of what must come
    all self’s entreating sleeps this day

    for no ‘troth be had ‘cept to purest gold
    with transforming beat of future’s time
    sounding now through wordless Love
    the spinning forth of spiral line

    seen from above, auricles embracing
    hearing blood’s poems shouting alight
    the heart, this heart, carries forth the sign
    and the eye awakens in the night 


    The Swallowed Sun
    The Swallowed Sun