To the Shores of Sure

 

Within the isolation of their remote land,
from inside the work of their silent meditations,
each sage had apprehended a light the night sky,
a light indeed so singular and so great that 

the light of ordinary day seemed dim.

This light appeared
in the person of a star,
speaking and singing,
brightening and ringing,
inviting the seers on a journey
to a distant land
to see the birth
of a baby of light.

So, out of the land of Un-Sure,
the seers went forth,
guided, fed and nurtured
by this amazing star.

Having finally arrived, they found
a humble stable,
a humble couple,
and humble witnesses
to a humble birth
of new light.

The seers bestowed
what gifts they had to give
to mark the occasion,
to bless the child,
this newborn star,
burning brightly
at his mother’s breast.

This bright star
—the embodied ancient of days:
maker-father;
wisdom-mother;
innovator-child—
then proclaimed:

All that has been,
All that is now,
All that will be
has waited for this new light,
which a light that lights 

beyond the brightness and clarity
of even the visible light.

Know that this light is always present:
within every person
there is a cave of mysteries,
the fresh and fragrant wellspring
of this inimitable light.

You are the light of the world!
How so ever you see the star
shows you in a role
as light embodied,
and in a form appropriate
to this and every moment,

Your inner light is not about
worship self-served in apathy,
but about discernment to
action in service to others.

Every person with a love of learning,
take heed of this truth:
the divided house cannot stand;
what can divide light?
Only darkness.

Yet glorious light pools everywhere;
there is no place untouched by this light,
very light of very light,
begotten, not made,
meant to bring an end to all mysteries
with the simple truth that
we are, all and each,
light for each other,
to lighten the world.

Therefore, the time of waiting is past;
it is time to rise from your dreams.

 

Awaken and go forth
to fulfill your light in the world,
that you may overflow
with benevolence and peace,
blessing all along your way
for all your days.

Thus, having blessed the light
and having been blessed by the light,
having heard the homily of light,
the seers returned home,
—ever after known as the Shores of Sure—
to live out their calling in service.

© 2023 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen & songsofasouljourney.blogspot.com

NOTES and COMMENTARY: This bit of writing (perhaps a work in progress) is my odd sort of commentary on a pseudepigraphical writing known as the Revelation of the Magi, extant in the form of an 8^th century manuscript in Syriac, preserved in the Vatican Library (Biblioteca apostolica, syr. 162) that may have a 5^th century antecedent in another language. This is an interesting hash of a tale that contains, among other things, the suggestion that the magi are twelve descendants of Seth in a distant land of Shir, who received stories or texts from Adam about “the fall;” a visitation from a polymorphous star being; a journey to see the birth of the baby; anointing of the sages and their return to the land of Shir from which they came; the arrival of Judas Thomas to the land of Shir to preach in summation to the sages.

A few lines stood out to me, when I read the translation of the text in Brent Landau’s dissertation on the work. “And you will see the completion of all the mysteries in Jerusalem, and everything that was spoken with you will become true for you,” is spoken by the star prior to the journey. “Therefore, rise and go in peace to your light-receiving land, because you have been deemed worthy to receive the perfect light of the heavenly majesty, and to come worship it with your gifts in joy. Behold, you have completed everything that you were commanded by your fathers, and you have also been deemed worthy to know and learn the ancient hidden mysteries, which were written for you from the first generations. Now, behold, you have seen the completion of your mysteries…” The star child sums things up, “And it was not in vain that you were created in the world, and heaven and earth and all the worlds came into being for your sake.”  

Meta-message to me: Clarifying light makes an end to all mysteries.

//

Religion, like politics and philosophy, is about governance. 

Ideally, the best kind of governance is self-governance.

Practically speaking, the only kind of governance is self-governance. 

Sages, seers and prophets suggest a self-governance that is inspired by awe in and duty toward a universal, parent-like deity. The christian writings that purport to record the teachings of Jesus have been eclipsed by redactions, sectarian battles over interpretation, apologias that strive to turn the hero into a god from before all time, and provide colliding sacred and secular visions of the best way to control the masses in conservative hierarchical fashion, so that an elite small group wields (hopefully benign) power and metes out a meager sort of justice (when it suits).

Millennia of competing religions behaving badly, in sectarian Technicolor, has had the effect of tossing out the holy child with the dirty bath-water of political corruption, most often reflected as authoritarianism that goes against all practical realities of self-governance. 

In the canonical gospels and within other texts that record what Jesus was apparently saying and teaching, the message is unequivocal that if you believe in the god of Mosaic law then you must self-govern in a way that serves others simultaneously with self. This is what is meant by righteousness and equity. This is what communion is all about. Jesus was talking about oppressed people turning the tables and rethinking their lot by understanding themselves as having a critical, on-the-ground and irreplaceable role in community. Religion stomps this message right out, countering with a top-down authoritarian model that states people can’t possibly be good, god should strike you down because of that, but Jesus took it for Team Sin, so that you don’t have to self-govern or be accountable. But then, because of that, you can’t have a say or a role beyond following a series of hollow leaders, doing what you are told, paying up your money and taking your chances.

If there is truth in all of this god-talk, it lies in the message that we are each a unique occurrence of light in the world; this means we have something to live up to and live for, through ethical self-governance that serves community and eschews the kind of personal power that is destructive and greedy. Self governance does not mean self-serving; it means an economy of duty to others, as well as self. Duty is best accomplished out of necessity, and more so by choice. We have not one, but many roles to fulfill for ourselves and for others; this is the significance of the polymorphic star-child. Living in a state of holiness and grace is living in the faith that your best efforts will be met by those of others, and that this is aided and blessed by the workings of the Divine Unseen. 

This is the Epiphany I have received from a lifetime of readings in and meditations on religion, philosophy and history, and I share it heartily with you. 

May you receive many blessings on your journey, and share your light with the world.

//

Revelations of the Magi: The Lost Tale of the Wise Men’s Journey to Bethlehem, © 2010 by Brent Christopher Landau, Harper Collins NY

Image: Gentile da Fabriano, Adoration of the Magi, 1423, tempera on panel, 283 x 300 cm (Uffizi Gallery, Florence)

This Business of Poetry, Part 7: Flow, Wherein the words flow onto the page

There are times when words flow onto the page. There is no doubt about it; inspiration frequently comes as a storm, even a flash flood. I mean by that, of course, that such storms do not last, but pass through you.

Those rare occasions when you are primed and ready, when you have pen and paper or keyboard to hand and the words start flowing like a waterfall onto your page, such occasions are absolutely amazing! Often, what flows out onto the paper started as a tiny idea and ended up as a torrent of unexpected text.

I cannot explain how this happens—or why—but it does happen. This started happening to me when I was about 12 years old. I would be awakened in the middle of the night with words on my mind; I was unable to go back to sleep until I wrote down what was on my mind.

To this day, much of my writing comes from these late night nudges.

Do such nudges “come from somewhere”? That is a question I cannot answer. Unconscious, subconscious, dream-work, lucid dreaming—these are all terms that may have validity in such discussions about creative work, and you can explore these on your own. Wherever the words “come from,” what ever hits the page is real and valid.

Is there a “muse” or “guide” that is “helping” you with your work? Here again, I cannot answer such a question for you.

I do tend to feel as though there is a muse involved with my own creative process. Is that silly? Perhaps. However, I believe that there is a revelatory aspect to the creative process. There are times when I read through the material that has “flowed” onto the page and I think to myself, “wow!” The “wow” can mean “I didn’t expect that train of thought to go there,” or it can mean “I can’t believe I wrote that,” or it can even mean “gee, I need to look at that more closely and think about it in order to figure it out.” The work that flows is a gift that leads to more thought and more work. It can often be a “note to self” about your life.

Is there anything you can do to make creative flow happen? NO. Absolutely not. If nothing is happening, don’t beat your head against a wall; the time is not right and the ideas are not ripe. Better to go for a walk, or listen to music, or read.

Creative flow is a marvelous experience, but I don’t think that absolutely everything that comes from such experience is necessarily complete or good. The work can often take turns that you do not intend, and it is up to you as to whether you want to retain digressions or cut them from work you intend to complete. Digressions can be useful to retain for further development.

Creative flow does not replace editing, revising or reworking material. Yes, there are rare times when the flow hits the page and you feel like it is done. Though you can’t expect this to happen often, you can treasure it when it does.

I am a strong advocate of saving work process in the form of handwritten notebooks. I sometimes work directly into the computer, but not often.

Whether you have a “muse” or work by means of  “automatic writing” or not, the experience of flow with regard to your writing can be thrilling, the resulting work is a passionate example of what is most authentically you. Savor such times!! They do not come frequently.

Could more be said? Of course, but this is enough to get you thinking about it all, in relation to your own practice.

_________

Next time: What To Do In The Desert While You Await Inspiration

This Business of Poetry, Part 6: Trial and Error, Blank Pages and Failures

So, now, we get on to the writing.

To the writing.

Writing.

And there is all this yawning space on the blank page or screen.

Waiting for you to write.

To write.

Write.

And that, in a nutshell, is all there is to it! (She says, with a false breeziness.)

Writing.

To write.

What that means is that you have to take what has been on your mind, in your mind, over your heart and between your ears, and the silent music that is there must form words that become a music that can be transcribed from your mind to the silence of the page or the screen—for what we are talking about is silent music that moves mysteriously into different silent venues before taking flight as sound. What you may be doing is a kind of translation from the music of your mind into the speech that you have been trained to use and understand.

Easy?

HA!

Here is an example of an idea I had that has never quite made it to completion. This past November, I got an idea. The idea was the title (this happens from time to time), and the development was supposed clarify my idea artfully. HA!

--* White Out *--

That was the idea. I was clear about what I was trying to achieve. The problem was, all I had was the title. The rest of the words were not finding a pathway onto the page.

I had, I suppose, a certain expectation that now that I had the idea and the clarity, the words would pour out. But they didn’t.

[I will digress for a moment to talk about the revelatory experience that can be an aspect of writing. This is an aspect that cannot be taken for granted. It is an aspect that cannot be overlooked. If you believe in something we will call, for the sake of discussion, “Divine Creation” and that life is somehow an integral weaving of communicative energies, then it can only seem natural that, if nothing else, your writing is a “note to self” of a sort.

I have done some work that I felt sure I had conceived and crafted, only to read it later be astonished at what bounced off the page at me. What I am saying is that the messages that bounce off the page can frequently be other than what you thought you were meticulously crafted. Be prepared for this. Be prepared to be amazed.

On the other hand, be prepared for this to be an unusual circumstance.]

So, the words weren’t pouring out, and I thought, gee, I guess I should make the words happen. So, I began…

“White Out” – Draft Notes

white flakes, snow moon

purify widening circles

like waves, rings

cause the negative cast

to surrender shadow to void

wideness of truth

“White Out” – Draft 1

If light is as easy as breath,
and liquid as the sea of stars
shining over the south seas,
then I can believe light wills
its journey to  fill the darkness

to white out and thus

cause each negative cast

surrender its shadowy mantle
for the wider array of truth.

If light is as easy as breath,

wrapped in the mantle of light

we shall be blind  to differences,

keener to our similar roles,

being, as we would, all of us,

points of light, pointing to one light

Light reaches out from a sea of stars…

…

    …

        …

 UGH!

No, this was not flowing. It was not feeling good. When you feel like what you are doing isn’t working, it is best to move on and come back to it.

(sigh)

So, I came back to it several days later. This time, I was armed with an epigraph that I thought might be helpful in channeling the proper words onto the page.

“White Out” – Draft 2 Notes

Epigraph: John 1:51

And he said to him, “Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending…”

“White Out” – Draft 2

One star,

one light;

one night

gives flight

to possibility.

Sparks fly,

moons sigh,
singing tales

of probable fails.

Positives shout:
white out
instances
of differences
to abiligility.  [yes, this is a neologism…]

Star lighting,
fly sighing,
shout outing
among any snowy shores…

…

    …

        …

(sigh)

No. It was just not happening, so I abandoned that draft.

I came back later.

“White Out” – Draft 3 Notes

What if an angel came in answer to a prayer? – refigure the piece as a question.

“White Out” – Draft 3

Moonlight frames her
as she scans the field.
Her visibility perturbs her not

[and then I remember a similar line in a Wilfred Owen poem,
            which disturbs me, but I keep going…]

--shameless self-promotion
is neither desired nor needed needed nor desired;
she is well-known,
if little understood—

outstanding in her field…

…

   …

      …

I now realize that I am writing about an owl. I ended up writing two poems called Night and Day from that material.

[So here is where I mention, casually, that everything you put down could actually end up being used and part of a completed poem someday, with patience and perseverance. So don’t tear the sheets of paper up and ball them up. Nothing need go to waste.]

I set “White Out” aside for a number of weeks.

In the meanwhile, my notebook records meeting minutes, grocery lists, calendar items and drafts of other poems that are now complete.

I return to my “White Out” – Draft 3 Notes,  thinking I can begin again.

(What if an angel came in answer to a prayer? – refigure the piece as a question.)

“White Out” – Draft 4

Complete white out
is what we need.

Answer our prayer,
if you dare,

Dear Angel,
do this deed;
prove wrong
the naysayer,
and all who clutch at doubt.

I feel you heed
by warmth of music,
and then you fall—
a daystar into the sea.

Your ribbon of flame
freezes the waters to ice,
reflection which blinds
as surely as viewing the sun
or sighting burning bush.

In white out,
deprived…

…

   …

       …

no. No. NO!  That’s not it.

(sigh)

Have I finished “White Out”? No. I have hopes.

Meanwhile, I have written a number of essays and other poems, have premiered a new piece of music, as wells as published some short interviews and a chapbook.  And I keep observing and reading and thinking.

You do what you do and the branches of the tree eventually bear fruit. Some of the fruit is easier to bring forth, but that is only normal.

Keep on writing!

----

Next time: Flow, Wherein the words flow onto the page