In the Garden of Delights: 4. Fault Lines

There, where you stand,
wherever you are,
there, unique fault lines lie;
the ground beneath your feet
is a monument of instability.

You and your kind
think in straight lines;
such do not exist,
not here, not anywhere
in this garden or beyond.

There, where you stand,
the ground is, nevertheless,
where you begin and end
your journey through now,
an experiment in ertia.

When the earth quakes and
the ground opens below you,
this signals opportunity
for movement, growth and change;
be not afraid—move and be free.

Your feet straddle an eternal gap
between the illusion of what is
and the limitlessness of possibility;
your heart hangs in the balance
between all past and future nows.

There, where you stand,
Wherever you may be,
you are the liquid catalyst for change
—the fault lines are your garden;
have a care, mind the gaps.

© 2012 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen 

In the Garden of Delights: 3. Cuach

I have made thee,
given thee two arms
a vessel to have, to hold, to be,
to rise up, cast by and keep from harms.

Ye, I have filled,
be therefore a loving cup,
overflow with love, be spilled,
for this needy world, so hard up.

Mouth wide for song,
voice alive with vibrance;
the world to which you belong
needs your care, love, and guidance.

Centering from the calm,

I cast this oath: observe!  
I pour you out to be a balm;
not to own the world, but to serve.

© 2012 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

In the Garden of Delights: 2. The Invitation

Whispers
in the wilderness:
a Voice.

like warming flame
flowing in a mirage,
calls,
reaching out
from the unknown
like the sunrise at dawn.

Come,
O come,
BE with me.

—[eyes open,
the slumberer awakes,
the recumbent one rises,
feet move forward,
step by mindful step,
heeding the beckoning call]—

Come,
I long to
refresh you.

—[forward momentum,
over trackless desert,
jagged tumbles,
deepest impressions,
and craggy peaks,
listening, listening]—

Come,
it calls,
the still voice.

the way,
it is crooked
and hard,
but I will make it
clear for you,
all will be made plain.

Come,
O come,
my friend.

when you arrive,
glad will be
the desert,
the rough places,
the bees,
the flowers,
and I.

Come,
let us be
together,
to shout,
to sing,
to love,
to rejoice,
to delight
in pure being.

Come,
that is all,
just come.

Celebration
awaits. 

© 2012 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

This entry actually appeared here in 2010, but I realized yesterday that it needs to be part of a cycle I am writing now! 

In the Garden of Delights: 1. et invisibilium

the thin veils
of invisible realms,
they softly flutter,
the breeze flowing
free upon the brow
—and I know you are near,
your vibrations pooling
in the autumn afternoon.

I have often wondered:
if I were to completely falter,
should I spark and go up like straw?

but, none has ever sparked such flame,
and I forestall madness
while time shifts at my foundations,
visibilium et invisibilium,
with gentleness and loving kindness.

had I tried,
I could have sent them away,
but they fly to me
—for conversation, mostly—
for I am a light, too.

we are all frustrated and
colorful intelligences,
reckless, even mad;
all that is missing
is the convivial cup of tea.

refuge is found in capitulation,
a weaving in with the pattern integral:
a unique delight, lightly balanced.

© 2012 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

The Irony of Labor Day

I have often thought that the way we tend to shunt aside problems is to crystallize them as holidays. Once the problem is a holiday, to which we can pay lip service once, annually, as we pour out our alcoholic libations, we put it completely out of mind. Labor Day is a case in point.

Labor Day has been celebrated nationally since 1882, if you can believe it.

The U.S. Department of Labor offers this explanation for the holiday:

Labor Day, the first Monday in September, is a creation of the labor movement and is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers. It constitutes a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of our country.

The irony is that Americans celebrate American Labor with a holiday observance while international business and government batter away at the average laborer's ability to earn a living wage under conditions that are safe and humane.

There is no sadder testament to this truth than the fact that California still has no legislation to insure that shade and water are provided for agricultural workers in the fields. This is not a new issue. I can remember marching with my parents in solidarity with farm workers in the 1960s and 1970s. A great many American authors, Sinclair and Steinbeck among many others, outline in their novels—often in shocking detail—how bosses and their political cronies take advantage of people in the workplace, wherever that may be—whether in the fields or in any office nationwide.

When you go to your local farmer’s market and purchase the “amazing” organic produce that you love to eat, remember those who harvest the food that sustains you. While you are attending your barbeques, watching ball games, try to remember that Labor really does sustain the world we take for granted, and that we are all the laborers of the fields of life.

And then think for a minute: How is your workplace treating you? In our hyper-connected high tech world, chances are you are tethered to your job more than you might want to admit, and being compensated a lot less for the amount of time you tend your job. It is well worth thinking about.

On this day, put yourself in the sandals of a worker in another industry, for just a moment.

And say a prayer of thanks for all who labor.