Meditations in Fast Times: 29. Since we were talking about 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.

                29.

Since we were talking about words, and words inspired us

    To perfect language and clarify understanding,

    To practice communication with using past and future,

Let me review the epic failure of that enterprise

    That we thought would bring us renown.

We spoke in tongues,
but not with the tongues of angels;
full of and with self,
we sought to be known communicants with the Divine,
rather than in community with other people,
and so our words fell flat,
spiraling downward into obscurity,
so lacking they were in music
or meaning

—if the trumpet sounds uncertainly,
how shall we understand the signal?

If we are to spread love,
it must be into the field of our life and action,
even if we never know the result of our labor.

Love of place cannot rank above love of people;
people are the servants of creation;
they are all the gardeners of Eden,
just as you are—this what memory taught me:

To be free, the self must be regularly emptied,

a sign of giving and receiving in equal measure;
emptiness is the sign of a life well spent,
regardless of any past or future claims.


Of all that I ever knew about language,
of all the words and ways,
I’d rather have just five words
that I could speak with compassion and love,
that I could be compassion and love,
that I could truly be,
and be so for everyone.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 28. I'm not eager to repeat

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.

                28.

I’m not eager to repeat
those thoughts and acts I now regret;
they’ve been done, and now are gone,
—let it go.

Last season’s fruit has all been et,
it served the role it’s nature met;
it’s all done, and now is gone,
—let it go.

Let it go, let it go, let it go, let it go;
Help us rise up to new day, let it go.

From wrong to wrong, and then again,
we seek to find a better way;
lead us to an answer,
—let us go.

Come, labor on; when each soul prays
with heart, at break of day,
toward Your presence in the light
—help us go.

Help us go, help us go, help us go, help us go;
Help us rise up to Your light, help us go.

And when I leave my soul
out on the pure sands of some distant shore,
do not mourn my passing
—let me go.

Though beyond awareness,

I truly hope my purpose has been met;
Sing me to the heav’nly gate
—let me go.

Let me go, let me go, let me go, let me go,
Help me rise up to New Day, let me go.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

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