Thursday, June 19, 2014
When oh when doth reality bend toward thine goals established in our youthful fantasies unannounced?
Can we but be driving our own unique molecules against the grains of time and place? Or is our fate a completely out of control mistress? Does time offer no reprieve from the everlasting ravages flowing within the swirling stars above or within?
Can it even know of us in our egotistical whimsies, as they haphazardly tease with their absurdities and misaligned oft times swirling waterfalls crashing to the rocks below?
These ponderings and more attempts to balance on my mind daily, with no truth nor equilibrium to show for the efforts. They come unbidden as small gusts of wind tugs at the edges just out of sight or unspoken awareness.
“Hush.” I often say within my ever-charging mind’s constant and unrelenting flow towards what? Madness, or just unbidden normalcy?
But saying so, nay, even secretly shouting it within doesn’t come close to altering its constant conscience provoking idiosyncrasies.
Nay, in this renowned oaken vault without a clear handle nor combination we balefully call life, a guiding light or beacon of sanity has no purchase. No foundation with which to lay our hopes and dream upon with credibility’s that hold with certainty.
Does the glass half full or empty have meaning beyond the elusions they playfully hint? Or are they just the wispy clouds formed from the never-ending waterfalls we’ve been given by who?
Who indeed? Does that in any real way matter? Is all within or without? If within, within what? These frail and temporary fleshings? Fleshings that seem to spurn or fade from lady lucks finicky embrace?
If without, without what? Another mad hatter musing us from above for its own benighted entertainment? Would that mad hatter be true, it would perhaps give some meaning or direction to pursue.
But clearly the Goddesses above and Gnomes below have in all their given names throughout mankind’s stand on this magical blue ball offered nothing beyond faith’s ambivalence and improvable suppositions and contrivances.
Then there’s the multiple follies of the demon in the box, some call Father time. We start as the ultimate innocents, barely aware, just out of the intimateness of the womb. Rudely ripped from the blessed calm dark and quietude into a strange world of swirling wisps of light and dark. Then unexpected assaults of sounds only heard until now through the insulate softness of Mother’s skin.
The only cares are intimate, immediate. Like bobbing on the storm waves of an ocean, an ocean presenting new vistas, vibrations and assaults with each new cresting. Showering moments of great confusion, the new feelings of fear, excitement and ultimately pains.
It’s then we learn of discomfort and need with inpatients at its helm. We learn to take in this strange new world through the mouth. Delightfully realizing that the liquid ambrosia sliding down our throats calms the monster wailing below.
After the feeding we slowly and luxuriously slide back down the long corridor to lay once more in the blessed piece and quiet of the land of fleeting dreams, along with ticklish feathers caressing our closed eyelids.
Oh, if only we could luxuriate in this in-between space for all time. A place where all our needs, desires, worries and silent wishes are solved, or at least soothed over as a baby turtle who soon learns to shut it all out by retreating back into it’s protective shell.
But its not meant to be. Father time turns out to be the devil in the details, forever moving us toward new highs and lows. We often lose our center in the continually changing maze of uncertainty and oft times delusionary madness we call life.
If we make it through the youthful period with our sanity still intact, mid life brings with it the clear-headed strength of body and mind. It’s the time of great dreams, some turned to goals and accomplishments stacked one over the next, like cord wood put up for the winter.
It’s a time when doing is more important than pondering. It’s a time when conquering the next mountain one step at a time is more vital than why its there. It’s an exquisite time when now is fully realized, if only for a moment.
A time for Yin and Yang to dance the dance of love and procreation, assuring the continuation of humankind on into the future. A future of constant change and newness only fools and false prophets claim to know, much less understand.
Inevitably father time grows weary along with all creation. With everything being temporary, illusive and fragile, the energy of youth slowly but ultimately wanes. With the assumptions of youth that everything would get easier with age variably crumbling around the ankles, its time for a reevaluation of all man thinks he has understood thus far.
It’s then we once more learn of discomfort and need with inpatients at its helm.
With pine scented fires, we have warmed well this oft times cold space and time
With a guttering votive’s flickering lighting our way
Sweet melodies amidst the cascading spheres
Breaks forth, a solemn yet entrancing sound
A harmony whereof the earth’s green hills
Give but the faintest echo, yet is there music everywhere
We do cool the tears of mortality and cover our fears with rationality
While hoping others tell of our poetry….