Meditations in Fast Times: 27. The children are swinging in the tree

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                27.

The children are swinging in the tree;
they have been eating apples,
dropping seeds and cores everywhere
and laughing, l a u g h i n g!

Curious and playful,
the robin cocks a quizzical head,
as if to say,
what are they going to do next?

They jump down,
grasping at healing leaves as they go,
into the soft green grass
— then they see the bush.

Let’s play!

And they enter the ring of flame.
Ring, oh ring the roses!
Then strike some fancy poses!
Ask me, ask me;
I’ll make a claim!

And they run and run,
around and around,
until at last they collapse
in the shade of the tree,
laughing, l a u g h i n g!

And thus it has ever been
in the garden of delight,
as bird and tree would tell you,
if you could hear them.

They would also tell you,
laughing with mirth, l a u g h i n g!
We are all made for this,
and that’s the Absolute’s truth.

 © 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 26. We only have words

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                26.

We only have words,
we only have words
to convey meanings
that so often only mask,
in the naming and speaking,
rather than illuminate;
words are fallible tools
that can only begin
to make the song
that is the hum and flow of reality.

We only have words,
we only have the words
with which to move mountains;
words are the only tools we carry with us,
and are sometimes only able
to interrupt and stain
the purity of awesome silence.

And this is how the question arose
about the abyss of unincorporated now.

‘The possible waiting to happen’
might be more accurate,
but the simple statement
is too small to contain
the math and science,
the magic of attraction,
the incomprehensible will
of music to form in the
concert hall of being.

Krishna tried to explain it
using Arjuna’s clumsy tools:
there is utter freedom, but not from decision;
reality is a chemical reaction
resulting from a creative attraction between
the divine and any other,
but only the other is
intoxicated with
universal compassion.

Right action is not ordered by any mandate,
nor a completely designed moment,
but an internal, intuitive idea,
that is willed and nurtured
by a commingling within possibility.

Said another way,
fun and games,
trial and error,
discovery and loss,
experience of life,
death and resurrection
can only occur
when the ardent heart
wills an authentic choice,
intuitively meeting Divine energy
in the sacred wood.

Using our fallible words,
the burning bush says,
“I’m ready to play when you are!”

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 25. If there is a reality we cannot bear

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                25.

If there is a reality we cannot bear,
it is the unknown tomorrow.

Indeed, it is the menace of tomorrow that drives
the need to consult apostles and prophets,
to follow gurus and miracle workers,
seek out faith healers, politicians,
spell-casters and semioticians.

This urge to cast runes,
read palms or plot the stars,
reaching back to reclaim
a nostalgic vision of the past
and cast it forward on a formless future
provides entertainment, certainly,
and obsessive preoccupation,
but is a wasted exercise,
in which we miss this moment.

But this moment is where science and magic lie.

The Divine can only meet you
in the abyss of unincorporated now.

The ardent heart enters the sacred wood,
answering the call of the music of the spheres,
offering the only gift there is to give: selfless self.

The right action
of the ardent heart
meets unforeseen moment
in surrender
and is nearly subsumed,
but awakens to a newer identity.

Turns out,
potential and possibility are bits of future
that comingle during the indelible union
of ardent heart with unforeseen moment;
an infinitude of such meetings,
where opposites cannot avoid attraction,
are creation incarnate or, if you will,
a live concert of the continuous music
of every iteration of the very next now.

That’s how it works.
All the rest is a waste of effort,
for time will not be outwitted.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 24. Many are we, but one

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                24.

Many are we, but one;
myriad leaves flow from one root,
as all bow in the sun,
entrained we are to follow suit.

They who sing, dance or write,
by such action serve all the world;
changed, all are made bright,
with diamond intersections knurled.

Together, into age from youth,
as the pages turn through time,
we, entangled, form truth;
we, knotted inextricably, rhyme.

To live is to love and share;
earthly meaning, laid bare.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 23. Not at the farther shore

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                23.

Not at the farther shore,
but the nearest one,
Not only for the ducks,
but for every living thing,
life-giving bread is cast.

When clouds are full,
they empty their tears
upon the grounded years
of all our knowing,
a gift and a blessing.

Loaves divided with love,
fragments of fish add flavor;
give a portion to seven
or even one thousand,
for who knows about tomorrow.

Sacrifice cannot be denied;
we receive only by giving,
water and fire cannot destroy
the meeting of I and Thou—
it is for this that we were made.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 22. We are born of time

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                22.

We are born of time;
surely it is time
that makes the river of life.
This river of unstable water,
drop upon lively drop,
carries our substance
from one and another adventure,
then on to each newer start.

We are woven of time;
surely it is time
that writes the book of life.
Life is written in
the language of experience;
death translates our essence,
by a more complex language,
into the stardust of creation.

We are the Music of Time;
surely it is Time
who writes us into songs
that dance with rejoicing waters,
drawn from saving springs!
The Book is full of our songs,
therefore, sing! Sing, for you are
the undying music of the Music-Maker.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 21. The truth of the rose

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                21.

The truth of the rose,
lies in no ghostly apparition,
but as that sweet music,
borne among clouds as a dream,
that passes through the waves of the sea
to be born into the garden of our seeking.

The truth of the rose
defies test tube and lab;
for in as much as the volatile ester
can be created beyond cloud and sea,
the truest circadian emission of rose
can only be realized in the garden of experience.

The truth of the rose
lies enfolded in the mystery of eternal, recurring Spring,
which willfully disturbs the world with vibrant color and
soulful perfume that cannot help but rise like delicate music
through our tender senses and memory,
in the gardens of earthly reality and of Paradise.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen