Dromedary Dreams

 

Journey of the Magi, James Tissot, c. 1894

Silent footfalls belie big burdens
—traces of feet will be gone by morning,
shrouded by wind-sifted curtains.

God is completely present, even
in these evening breezes;
every desert is wholly a part of Eden.

With all the planets aligned
to the fullness of ascended moon,
light is abundantly consigned,

Accompanied by comet and star
—all is made bright and visible;
no matter where you stand, there you are,

seen. Yet, onward we ply and plod,
destination unknown,
as they say in the Land of Nod.

Being—to be—good, by deed,
word and thought, is to lodge in a place
so full of goodness, there is no need

to be elsewhere; such is the goal.
To find, there within goodness, a refuge,
where to coalesce and be whole,

in spirit, mind and body,
this is what the dromedary dreams of,
while traversing the ancient wadi.

12/23/2021

For Epiphany

© Elisabeth T. Eliassen & songsofasouljourney.blogspot.com

Notes/Commentary: 

* Genesis 3:8-9, some translations suggest the Divine Being enjoys a walk in the cool evening breezes.
* Moon, Jupiter, Saturn and Venus to aligned around (Dec. 10), joined by the moon.

* Comet C/2021 A1 (Comet Leonard) will be visible throughout December 2021 and into early January 2022

* The mythobiblical Land of Nod is located east of Eden, from which Cain was banished for murdering Abel. But this is less about a story and more about a language. Nod is the root of the Hebrew verb “to wander.” Related words reflect meanings ranging from vagabond and fugitive to being disturbed, agitated or moved. To “live in the land of Nod” can mean “to live a wandering life.”

My friend Bajun R. Mavalwalla posted Tissot’s work on his Facebook page, along with some thoughts on the magi, from the traditions of his family. I woke up a week later with the words “dromedary dreams” in my mind. Since the words showed up, I thought I’d better work with them!

This poem is meant to be lighthearted and from the point of view of dromedaries, the common pack animal of the middle eastern deserts. Humans (with their baggage) run all over the place, trying to find the person, place or thing that will make existence perfect (“destination unknown”). The dromedaries in this poem rather think you don’t have to run around to find that—well, perhaps they would prefer to find, stay and experience the goodness of a single place, any place that is illumined by Divine light. (This would certainly save wear and tear of the desert sands on dromedary feet!). 

Ultimately, this is a story of immanence, the holiness of the seen and unseen. People run all over, looking for holiness, when in truth they are surrounded by it, if only they could see and be illumined/informed by the signs, and act in accordance with them--that is, with responsible stewardship and benevolence. Rather than make this a story about astronomers from Persia with three gifts for a baby messiah, my rendering is intended to honor the traces of Zoroastrian monotheism that come to us through the Hellenist Judaism of Philo and Christianity—the transformative threefold ethical path of good thoughts, good words and good deeds.

E.T.E.

Meditations in Fast Times: 5. August and loveliest

                 5.

August and loveliest,
the middle-way tree
stands at heart, soul and center
of the garden of our seeking;
where we start from is home.

As clerkes fyndyn wretyn,
said tree was a delight to the eyes
and desired to make one wise,
if only one hooked the bait
and took of the fruit and ate,
though it was against park rules,
as surrounded by pits and pools,
confounding most efforts to harvest;
though a few did win the quest,
they were banished for their saucy ways,
setting a poor example for latter days,
even if felix culpa.

That was a kind of start.

All the places we go from home
are where we derive experience
and knowledge;
we all learn from our mistakes.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Slipping Along

Paddles dip softly,
fanning circles out,
canoe slips along
over lily pads
through silken waters.

Draw in, hold steady,
let the ducks float by;
the rings and ripples
of your movement
will fade in the mirror.

Centered in quiet,
centered in peace,
away from words
pressing in torrents,
begging for shallow response—

Here is respite from noise,
a place of reflection
on no mere surface tensions,
but inviting greater depth,
welcome, if unfamiliar.

© 2012 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Culminations

that dream of long ago
has proved prescient, and
now lies manifest, in a being
of sorts and sundries

for, into the eye of the storm,
into the ring of fire,
as into a vivarium,
my soul has wandered
from the places of desolation

voices, as song and wind,
make their vital way center,
make their offerings heard,
and depart on wings of flame

i gather their many threads,
some of silver, some of gold,
some bronze, all bold,
and weave them by stead
on the canny loom
of my ruminations,
where they bloom
by culminations
into soft embraces
of shimmering folds

likely no final destination, this,
in our soul’s journey,
and how i arrived here,
i know not, but how
surely purposed it was,
this centering:
to tune me now,
to test me,
to gather and
to weave me
to ravel and
to give me
as my thoughts
to God

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Stillness Sings

This flower opens to the silence within.
The silence within opens
to the supreme stillness without.
Stillness sings;
the flower knows this
because it is alive:
the song is what draws
the bud to bloom.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

within silence

withdraw, withdraw from the noise!
withdraw into the stillness of creation,
like burrowing into the folds of a warm cloak.

stillness invites silence
to the center of self and every living thing,
and to the interiority beyond,
which is the beauty of creation.

when silence speaks,
receive the message,
and be its instrument.

let silence play through your soul
like the breath of a song
on the beat of the sacred drum.

like the flower,
unfolding from the bud
to make a bed for the bumble bee,

silence will call blessed rest,
will speak beauty to your dreaming,
and greet you warmly in the truth of dawn.

withdraw, withdraw from the noise!
withdraw into the stillness of creation,
like burrowing into the folds of a warm cloak.

stillness invites silence
to the center of self and every living thing,
and to the interiority beyond,
which is the beauty of creation.

when silence speaks,
receive the message,
and be its instrument.

let silence play through your soul
like the breath of a song
on the beat of the sacred drum.

like the flower,
unfolding from the bud
to make a bed for the bumble bee,

silence will bring the blessing of rest,
will speak beauty to your dreaming,
and greet you at the dawn of day.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

At Storm Eye

Whirling winds, like loud voices,

writhe in circular emotions;

seemingly at war with one another,

they call and draw forth clouds
from far off lakes and oceans.

Rushing waves, ringing, raging,

roar in circular courses,

overtaking what lies in the way,

from here to the far horizon,
flooding with its forces.

Sacred storm blows and flows, 

driving madness round about the way,

but your wave and mine can meet;

joining within the calm storm eye may,

challenge violence to stand down.

Joining hands in friendship,

once rogue waves form a unity;
together stronger than any storm,
our choice forms a harmonious purity

that must drive stormy madness away.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen