Meditations in Fast Times: 30. There is a time for building

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.

                30.

There is a time for building,
a time for collapse,
a time of reckoning,
a time for remembering,
a time of forgetting,
a time for forgiving
a time of returning;
all these times are the same time,
past, present and future,
all apparent in the blooming eglantine,
all apparent in the salt clinging to each blossom,
all apparent in everything awaiting its due season.

We rise, we fall, we crumble;
Our old wood burns quick, hot
cinders into ash; we return to earth
and the wind carries us, like seeds,
to every corner, every place—
we are the song on the wind
as sunlight fills the empty pool;
neither shadow, nor light,
but we are there, in due season.

We are in the running rivers,
we are in the waving grain,
we are in the slowness of trees,
in the speed of the hummingbird,
we are the cries, smiles, laughter and dance
that turn to mourning and remembrance,
we are silence and sound, which together are music,
we are the songs of sadness or rejoicing—
we are the time and seasons,
and we await our due,
our return.

We are quietness at rest,
if we could be content so to be.

We are the dream,
if we could be content so to be.

The house of mirth and the house of mourning
are one and the same dream;
the clinging salt does not harm the beauty of the rose,
and the rose does not rebuke the embrace of the salty spray—
they are content to be thrown together,
for it is grand to be;
being is the grandest dream of all.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 16. let sunrise break through fog

Note to Readers: Now that I am nearly half way through, I wanted to say a little something about what this series of posts is all about. “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, others from my own readings. The intertextual approach Eliot used in his writing could be cryptic, as he was alluding to many other writings, as well as personal experiences; the average person would find annotations helpful, but he did not annotate the work. A few scholars have made attempts to do so; I have worked on my own annotations. While the style of Eliot’s writing was considered “modern,” “post-symbolist”, even “neoclassical,” it must be said that all writing, throughout time, has carried subject, rhythm, tone and trope, forward from the past. Eliot did not invent intertextuality; it can be said that every text is a product of intertextuality. One of the ways that we draw listeners or readers in to whatever new idea (if any) we might have is by offering familiar context from the past, much like making a hat-rack available, on which we can hang something familiar and then introduce something new, or ponder what never changes.

                16.

let sunrise break through fog,
that there be joy in the morning!
yet, even so, even so,

for though the flowers bloom
under beaming majesty,
there is continual cause for wonder.

let me ponder my flight
that fonder I might grow
of this childhood,

for what and for why
did this seed burst forth
into bloom?

let me consider
self as emerging
from some deep interior,

for it must be
that there is every
purpose under the sun,

let me seek mine own,
attempt to outgrow
the stories of my youth,

for it is true
that most being seeks
to find completion in purpose

let me therefore accept
the world and
serve it,

for surely it is all life
that being supports
and, mutually supported, is;

let me therefore give thanks that
being is and teaches continually
through osmotic exchange

for what purpose, then,
if not to fold and enfold,
to mix and mingle?

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 13. Getting off the train

                13.

Getting off the train,
thinking to leave behind the clutter of old ways,
our old, shabby thoughts drift across the platform
and flow up the escalator with us,
flowing amid the general mess
of commingled thoughts and emotions,

—really the wants of the rough and tumble masses—
whose sound has gone out into all lands.

Strive as we might to stay in possession,
sometimes rummaging the lost and found
to reclaim half-baked ideas,
the mobile phone dropped yesterday,
or cans for the recycle,
we miss the small presence,
the unprepossessing gift
that arrives, unasked for,
in the face of the flowering weed
growing out of the blighted cracks
of the forgotten and foreclosed factory;
seeking so much beyond our ken,
we fail to see the ordinary
(still very much noteworthy,
in as much as it is woven into the fabric of our being).

Whether we see it or not,
the weed is, in our time or any other,
and exists to be;
that it purifies the air is beside the point,
but for that we should give thanks.

We struggle forward,
making plans,
rehearsing incoherent speeches,
wrestling with emotions,
but Truth interrupts,
does it not?

Truth is neither of passion or dispassion,
but it constantly crosses our path,
manages to derail all our plans
and frequently sends unwanted messengers,
as if to say:
here I am,
pay attention.

Truth is,
Truth is what happens
when we are making other plans;
time and place cease to matter,
acceptance is all in all.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

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

Meditations in Fast Times: 1. Coming down from the highs

                        1.

Coming down from the highs,
coming down from the heights,
separating from the rights and rites
to settle,

first formless,

then in form,

informed
by stillness at its fulcrum,
stillness as close to rest,
as can be achieved in a lifetime
—neither a resignation,
nor abdication,
but an embrace of liminal space,
in which to consider
the moment;
clay, after all,
            can only grow so tall
before gravity,
or a confusion of tongues,
causes it to fall;
But now, at least,
is an acceptable time
to consider the limits of dust,
the rewards of oblative ablution
and what treasures lie
beyond substance,
within, perhaps,
the gift of apprehension
or the embrace of possibility
as—sic transit mundi—

we flutter in moth-like suspension
before the light,
betwixt and between.

 © 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Stop and See—Contemplate

Let me celebrate Life at all times;
may a song to beauty always be on my lips—
May all my days glorify the sweetness of Being!

Friends, join me in singing;
let our music weave a celebration of Life!

We, who search and strive for truth,
are sometimes so woefully unaware:
truth constantly surrounds us
and is continually being revealed.

Let all who seek find,
and all who realize glow with dignity;
May all who suffer find relief
through transformative possibility;
Let none of us be confounded.

This lowly person asked for truth,
and was given an answer:
The Spirit of Life surrounds all those
who fully engage with the world.

Stop and see—contemplate
by resting in the goodness of Life.

Blessed are all
who love,
who do right by others,
who speak truth and beauty,
who make and nurture peace.

All who find the goodness of Life
and share it abundantly
cannot fail to be blessed.

Together,

Let's celebrate Life, at all times;
may a song to beauty always be on our lips—
May all our days glorify the sweetness of Being!

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

***

Stopping (concentration) and Seeing (insight) are integral halves within Buddhist meditation practice. “The Great Stopping and Seeing” is a collection of lectures set out to explicate the various methods of meditation practice, as realized by the 6^th century Chinese master Chih-i.

While filtering Stopping and Seeing through my own experience and practice, the thought drifted into my head that Stopping and Seeing sounded somewhat like “o taste and see” from Psalm 34, and so this offering is a sort of re-envsioning of Psalm 34.

The interesting thing about Psalm 34 is that its heading indicates a relationship to the story of David’s adventures in Nob, as told in I Samuel 21. David, in this situation, acted as though he was insane, in order to escape from danger. Is the Psalm a crazy outburst, or does it reveal method in madness? Likewise have those awakened to enlightenment been thought, at times, to be crazy.

At any rate, we could all do worse than throw ourselves headlong into celebration, at every opportunity! 

Total Exposure

In the dream, I am reaching forward to keep from falling, blinded by the radiance of the light that has come upon me. In this moment, there is no place that is in shadow, & because light is all there is, lacking any contrast by which to find landmarks & bearings brings me to my knees. I, too, it seems, am light; I am swimming in and breathing light. In this indefinite moment, there is no darkness at all. What is this place? Where am I & why am I here? I hear the questions in my mind, & they echo about me, clattering like pebbles on pavement. In this inexplicable moment, there is no place to hide & no place to be, but here, revealed utterly within the complete exposure to this element of light. No voice replies, & I find that I am alone, blinded by the benign radiance that has captured me. Lucid stillness settles around me, body & mind, & settles over the All that must surround me, a mantle like a sky. All falls deeper into hushed presence. All reaches out an incautious tendril of silent curiosity and invitation. I hesitate, not quite sure how to respond. The tendril stirs from its kindly pause, & reaches further, touching me, touching me, oh! Touching me, in depths I did not know possible within my fragile frame; touching with least energy. And yet, oh, oh agony; oh, oh agony—agony of joy-ebullient brilliance! A touch smaller than a pinprick, penetrating my soul with an unendurable lightness of warmth. Oh, agony of joy-ebullient brilliance! Radiating throughout my mystified senses, supersaturating my consciousness, until it seems as though I am flying omni-directionally, but I am still in the midst of All—until suddenly I realize that I have just been embraced——

I awaken.

Tears of charged light roll over my soul as I return to myself.

No answer was required of me. 

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Image: Human Bulb. http://www.smashingmagazine.com/2008/07/14/let-there-be-light-light-paintings-and-sculptures/