Meditations in Fast Times: 2. Tolerance, she said

                  2.

Tolerance, she said,
is well enough and good.
Acceptance is better.

Acceptance
of conditions,
a simple recognition
of a basic truth:
each and all are.

The storm, settling
in for a daily dose,
clattering, cluttering, close—
an exertion
gripping mind and soul
—holding self in a
grip of judgment,
casting a dark cloud
over possibility;
simple
is the most difficult
condition of all.

The rhythm of feet to floor,
the staccato of many voices
against a descant of driving rain,
these are reminders;
the vastness of experience
is no different than the center
that is home,
and each foot fall,
each whispered prayer,
each meal lovingly prepared
is refuge taken in now
and everything.

The thunder and lightning
startle one from reverie;
muscles suddenly tense,
then release
into realized truth:
acceptance is nothing less
than an intimate engagement
with all things.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Kind Heart

            For Janet W., and all who quietly go about the business of

                   life-changing-miracle-making

Kind heart,
loving, your art,
finds each open door,
all the ways in, and more;
smiles are not sufficient,
favors and deeds not efficient,
for ‘tis the lingering hour
of connection that ignites the power
to move mountains with eyes,
to conquer despair, save lives;
Love spins its tale true
by never resisting the urge to do.

La Habana, en versos libres: V. Dias Cinco

Not quite late, but nearly
—even so, time enough
to roll the dice
with the coffee machine;
guess who won?

To class, to class, to class!
—the last one
in which we attempt to learn
the most complex genre of dance.

The eyes,
the mind,
the heart open;
so this is the truth:
when they took the drum away,
on the continent,
The People were robbed of their language.

Expected to capitulate,
The People on the continent,
nevertheless invented a new language.

But the islands regained the drum,
by way of the invention of the clavés;
the culture survived,
even flourished,
despite unintended changes,
via telegraph and telephone,
that brought a blossoming,
a renaissance,
to the tropical paradise
of song birds
walking trees
and rum.

This is a true story
[though, from his library in Argentina,
Borges would have observed
it is a true story
just made up;
this would be both
right and wrong]:
There are two birds in the forest;
both are holy beings.

One bird desires
union with the other,
to achieve the basis
that is universal:
one.

The male plumps his colorful plumage,
while the female demurs.

Though the female seems plain,
she is the Queen of
sky, sea and forest;
it is she who is mother of all.

The male, the Fourth King,
he who enjoys a good party,
he knows the Queen is best,
so he reaches into the sky,
calling on Thunder and Lightning,
pulling their power
deep into his gravitas,
placido y not.

The Queen,
she can have anyone.

The King,
is he worthy?

Right now, what can he achieve?

Is this the opportune moment
and portal
for encounter
and engagement?

Can this be love,
or merely convenience?

And what will happen next;
what are the consequences;
will the cosmos be changed?

Harmony is a coordination
of chant,
rhythm,
and movement
—one language,
heard and understood
in all times and places;
call and response,
with an outcome,
is a complete revolution,
a return to stasis and rest,
that resets the stage
for a new play.

Oddly,
“The more things change,
the more they stay the same”
is not true;
this drama kicks forward;
the revolution is really an evolution,
but only when the ritual is
correct and also unique;
there is no empty repetition
if there is blessing,
but blessing only comes
when being is engaged.

This is why the true language,
composed of thought,
                        word,
                        deed,
expressed as rhythm,
                        song,
                        dance,
is not a trinity,
but one expression,
that is being,
only when being is fully engaged.

There is no emptiness in being,
nor is there perfection;
there is only engagement with possibility.

If you believe,
if you know,
you realize the future imperfect
need not be tense;
there are no winners or losers,
there is only change,
even growth,
perhaps even understanding
and healing,
if all goes according to what is possible,
while maintaining the integrity of being one.

This, my friends, is rumba.

© 2013 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

The Day We Were Together

It was the day we were together,
perhaps the only one,
and Holy Heaven opened above us,
a place so vast it overflowed,
pouring down flaming, music-like wind
on our eyes, our ears, our hearts,
and when we spoke,
it was as if we were one being,
speaking in all the tongues of humanity.

Together, we thought,
“Woe is me! I have gone mad!
I am among crazy people!”

But a collective thought-stream commenced:
Sad it is that I must remind you:
I have created you and blessed you;

I have given you a heart of flesh.

Hear, and now understand,
See, and now perceive,
Be healed, now,
and go to share the news!

Mistake not fulfillment
for drunkenness;
your purpose is,
and has always been,
to love one another
— in thought, word and deed,
in dreams and in reality,
to love is to serve.

Rejoice and be Glad!

It was the day we were together,
perhaps the only one.
Do you remember?
Or was it just a dream?

             *****

Prayers of the People on Pentecost

To Holy Wisdom, that came

In silence, wind and flame,

We lift our prayers, saying:

            Holy Wisdom,

            Lead us with your Spirit!

As we bring forth our different faces, colors, gifts and voices,
Please guide our vision, our work, our ministries and choices.

            Holy Wisdom,

            Lead us with your Spirit!

Strengthen your ministers, ordained and lay, all,

To heed what our minds, hearts and covenant call.

            Holy Wisdom,

            Lead us with your Spirit!

Move those who govern beyond profit, loss and liability;
Guide them to uphold freedom, truth, justice and dignity.
            Holy Wisdom,

            Lead us with your Spirit!

Guide us in the sustainable use and care
of this Earth, our planetary ecosystem so rare.

            Holy Wisdom,

            Lead us with your Spirit!

Bring comfort to those with any concern or need;

            (that you may now name, silently or aloud)

Support every earnest thought word and deed.

            Holy Wisdom,

            Lead us with your Spirit!

We offer thanks for every blessing and beauty;

            (that you may now name, silently or aloud)

May our gratitude show forth as joy in our duty.

            Holy Wisdom,

            Lead us with your Spirit!

We pray for those who have died and those who mourn;

            (that you may now name, silently or aloud)

May they be wrapped in Peace; may their spirits be upborne.

            Holy Wisdom,

            Lead them with your Spirit!

With one accord, in unity, and in all the voices of humanity,
Let us say: Amen.

© 2013 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

From Isaiah 6 to Acts 2, in places near and far, love has been declared the common language. 

What will you do to celebrate?

The Think System

Ideas float like motes of dust

through the sun charged ether,
of conscious and unconscious being,
waiting to be caught in a web
of substantial thought.

Fog lies thick
on the ground
of our doings,
sometimes hiding from view
what should be clear
and in the open,
measurable.

The world turns
on a scientific principal
that can neither be diverted
nor controlled,
but all other doings rely
on cooperative interaction
between two or more
ordered points
within a vector.

The magnitude
of the motion,
and whether it is
bound or free,
depends upon
what the carrier
is doing.

How shall you
carry the world forward?

Shall you force,
torque,
displace,
accelerate,
move
or abstain?

How shall your
motions be measured
from the initial point
to your terminus?

Shall you be
an angle,
a product,
an orientation,
a contravariant,
a semi-norm
a cross
or a null?

And when
it is all over,
and measured,
will any of it
have been worth
the exercise?

A web
of substantial thought
awaits all ordered points
that wish to engage in
consciously cooperative
interaction.  

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen
image: http://www.vectorjungle.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/11/vector-art-equations-graphs.jpg

The Point

Many people ask the difficult question,
“What is the point?”

This = ,
this point,
this is where we meet;
this is a place, both metaphorical and real:
now.

There may have been a before,
which speaks to some other point of fact or being,
or may even indicate a point of origin,
if such is possible,

But this is the here-and-always-now,
the ultimate point on which we must focus our attention—
all comings and goings depend upon ti,
all shall-be and ever-beens, as well—
the turnings of universes within universes
rely on how well met we are at this point.

Shall we dance like angels on the head of a pin?
The point is what we make of it, within it,
whether guiding or following it as a moving path,
in lines or waves,
flowing on it as a stream,
surrounding it, avoiding it,
on point or off,
melding into or averting from
(rendering either a going and a return
or a point of departure)…

Now is always;
whether we “decide” to meet there or not,
now happens,
here, there and everywhere.

Now is the wellspring of creation,
the hub,
the crux,
the point of being
and, more to the point,
of beingness.

How shall we make our point?
How shall we be?
What shall we do?

Now is an opportunity that requires action
(for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health),
but action depends on how we define our point.

Shall we dance?


© 2010 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen