Meditations in Fast Times: 6. Down the garden path

                 6.

Down the garden path,
testing serenity with math,
and the music that rises
from the bushes surprises
even the studied guide.

Where have we been?
Where shall we go?
Shall we know what we’ve seen?
Might we encounter snow?
(Our thoughts, as we march along, glide.)

This journey is the set to which we dance,
even if the music is unheard;
we all make the same contract with chance,
might face an outcome absurd.

There seems nothing on which to anchor,
though the seasons return to redeem us, from loss
of perspective or frame, or exposure to dross;
time serves neither favor nor rancor—
results neither impress nor move,
nor bow to any conscience we might behove.

Time is a game played by children,
an ancient guidebook once said;
the author, sadly, is now dead,
but we can presume his advice
was meant to encourage and entice.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

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

Meditations in Fast Times: 4. Flowers were our guests

                 4.

Flowers were our guests,
stopping with us
and blushing at our attention
to their beauty,
as if to say,
we just are;
in them is crystallized
the liquid potential
of increase and decrease,
of here, of now,
of gone, of loss,
of remembering
and return.

On the crowded city streets,
of a Winter day
the silent array
of lax and flaccid faces
reflects a vacancy, promoted
by distraction to distraction
by means of empty distractions
or at least none that edify.

Winter came to those streets,
but not to this garden,
where Spring still manages
to surprise with bright colors
to delight with intoxicating aromas
—ah, how intoxicating!

High in the trees,
the wise hoopoe bird
makes the rallying cry:
lost atoms, faces, hearts:
return to your center;
the outlier calling
is an empty journey.

Rose and jasmine,
hyacinth, Persian blue allium and iris,
showing through twisting honey suckle,
our flowers, our friends,
having come to visit,
are grateful to retain their seats;
the dusty bowl of petals
is no fit ending to their story
or ours.

© 2014 Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 3. The continuous rumble

                  3.

The continuous rumble,
the watery babble,
the trending of disaffection
continues apace;
forward we tumble,
we rabble scrabble,
neither ending the dejection,
nor seeking to displace—
this no-wise movement
is how houses usher,
divide and fall.

Birdsong and flowers,
dappled light through trees,
lure one away from the smoky,
first world drawing room;
out through the French doors,
in through the hedge,
and into the garden we go,
following deception,
we do not know.

Ah, to breathe!
The lively stillness
dispels all former torpor
and mindless twittering;
the freshness of all that is real
reaches out from the day,
singing like a merry bell peal,
tugging the spirit, as if to say
your cares I beguile
for the while
you are here.

The soul cannot well thrive,
no matter what plot might contrive,
away from the gardens of Paradise;
tending the diverse flowers,
for weeks, for days or just hours,
allows one to realize
the duty bounden
on each person’s part
to nurture the beauty in one’s heart,
the garden of where you are.

© 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!