holy island

[...]

paradise

[...]

pentagram

[...]

strength - duration - change

[...]

Caramella #3

[...]

Caramella #2

[...]

Caramella #1

[...]

tree of live

[...]

mountains

[...]

breathless

[...]

awakening

[...]

way home

[...]

parent oaks

[...]

To know what we do not know

To fear death, my friends, is only to think ourselves wise, without being wise: for it is to think that we know what we do not know. For anything that men can tell, death may be the greatest good that can happen to them: but they fear it as if they knew quite well that it was the greatest of evils. And what is this but that shameful ignorance of thinking that we know what we do not know?

~ Socrates ~
.

Love

.
there is enough magic here
inside this one word
to change our world forever

mountain snow lying
across life’s pasture a
shadow reflected over
stone moss forest dream
man’s ability to under
stand nature’s living need

green comet seen in the sky
time’s gift, another
universe visiting our earth

rested bow spirit fly
into night’s seamless
ocean bring sea jewel
to land’s line touching
justice’s shore, man’s
ability to know freedom

green comet seen in the sky
time’s gift, another
universe visiting our earth

bridge between heavens’s
storm and fern field
pathway to a pollen canyon
mixed outside God’s vision,
our destiny painted in key ink
sand the touch of a woman

there is enough magic here
inside this one word
to change our world forever

Love

~ Joseph Mayo Wristen ~

.

Dass Vögel sind...

Dass Vögel sind!
Füsschen im Schnee!
Federn um Gesang
Kleiner Ball voll Gefühl.
Von Sehnsucht geschleudert
Aus einer Welt in die andre,
Von einem Klima zum andern.
Dass Vögel sind! Ziehende Vögel,
Rührend klein vor dem grossen Raum,
zarter Flug um Gott.
Wie möchte man knien
weil Vögel sind!

~ Claire Goll ~
.

whispers

.

They say hurricanes begin in Africa
Have you ever heard the sigh of bones
Lining the ocean floor?
Listen carefully
And you'll come to know
That soft green sound
Like elephant grass whispering
Day after day those whispers
Warp minds in the East
Keep iron-fisted rulers
Deaf to their people's pleas
And each year
Those whispers become a deafening roar
Pent up fury of souls undead
Rejecting the whip
Breaking the chains
Seeking justice once more
Their anger pushes West
And when they are done
Lashing
They return East
To whisper some more

They say hurricanes begin in Africa

~ Omololá Ijeoma Ògúnyemí ~

.

anthem [after the great Storm]

.

I am torn in two
but I will conquer myself.
I will dig up the pride.
I will take scissors
and cut out the beggar.
I will take a crowbar
and pry out the broken
pieces of God in me.
Just like a jigsaw puzzle,
I will put Him together again
with the patience of a chess player.

How many pieces?

It feels like thousands,
God dressed up like a whore
in a slime of green algae.
God dressed up like an old man
staggering out of His shoes.
God dressed up like a child,
all naked,
even without skin,
soft as an avocado when you peel it.
And others, others, others.

But I will conquer them all
and build a whole nation of God
in me – but united,
build a new soul,
dress it with skin
and then put on my shirt
and sing an anthem,
a song of myself.

~ Anne Sexton ~

.

Utopia [after the great storm]

Island where all becomes clear.

Solid ground beneath your feet.

The only roads are those that offer access.

Bushes bend beneath the weight of proofs.

The Tree of Valid Supposition grows here
with branches disentangled since time immermorial.

The Tree of Understanding, dazzling staight and simple.
sprouts by the spring called Now I Get It.

The thicker the woods, the vaster the vista:
the Valley of Obviously.

If any doubts arise, the wind dispels them instantly.

Echoes stir unsummoned
and eagerly explain all the secrets of the worlds.

On the right a cave where Meaning lies.

On the left the Lake of Deep Conviction.
Truth breaks from the bottom and bobs to the surface.

Unshakable Confidence towers over the valley.
Its peak offers an excellent view of the Essence of Things.

For all its charms, the island is uninhabited,
and the faint footprints scattered on its beaches
turn without exception to the sea.

As if all you can do here is leave
and plunge, never to return, into the depths.

Into unfathomable life.

~ Wislawa Szymborska ~

.

The Shapes of Leaves [after the great storm]

.
Ginkgo, cottonwood, pin oak, sweet gum, tulip tree:
our emotions resemble leaves and alive
to their shapes we are nourished.

Have you felt the expanse and contours of grief
along the edges of a big Norway maple?
Have you winced at the orange flare

searing the curves of a curling dogwood?
I have seen from the air logged islands,
each with a network of branching gravel roads,

and felt a moment of pure anger, aspen gold.
I have seen sandhill cranes moving in an open field,
a single white whooping crane in the flock.

And I have traveled along the contours
of leaves that have no name. Here
where the air is wet and the light is cool,

I feel what others are thinking and do not speak,
I know pleasure in the veins of a sugar maple,
I am living at the edge of a new leaf.

~ Arthur Sze ~
.

before the storm [expect nothing]

Expect nothing. Live frugally
On surprise.
become a stranger
To need of pity
Or, if compassion be freely
Given out
Take only enough
Stop short of urge to plead
Then purge away the need.

Wish for nothing larger
Than your own small heart
Or greater than a star;
Tame wild disappointment
With caress unmoved and cold
Make of it a parka
For your soul.

Discover the reason why
So tiny human midget
Exists at all
So scared unwise
But expect nothing. Live frugally
On surprise.

~ Alice Walker ~

.

The crying of the frogs

.
I

I had forgotten how the frogs must sound
After a year of silence, else I think
I should not so have ventured forth alone
At dusk upon this unfrequented road.

II

I am waylaid by Beauty. Who will walk
Between me and the crying of the frogs?
Oh, savage Beauty, suffer me to pass,
That am a timid woman, on her way
From one house to another!

~ Edna St. Vincent Millay ~
.

The Battle

.
However the battle is ended,
Though proudly the victor comes
With fluttering flags and prancing nags
And echoing roll of drums.
Still truth proclaims this motto,
In letters of living light, -
No Question is ever settled,
Until it is settled right.

Though the heel of the strong oppressor
May grind the weak to dust,
And the voices of fame with one acclaim
May call him great and just,
Let those who applaud take warning,
And keep this motto in sight, -
No question is ever settled
Until it is settled right.

Let those who have failed take courage;
Tho' the enemy seems to have won,
Tho' his ranks are strong, if he be in the wrong
The battle is not yet done;
For, as sure as the morning follows
The darkest hour of the night,
No question is ever settled
Until it is settled right.

O man bowed down with labor!
O woman, young, yet old!
O heart oppressed in the toiler's breast
And crushed by the power of gold!
Keep on with your weary battle
Against triumphant might;
No question is ever settled
Until it is settled right.

~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox ~

.

if everything happens that can't be done

.
if everything happens that can't be done
(and anything's righter
than books
could plan)
the stupidest teacher will almost guess
(with a run
skip
around we go yes)
there's nothing as something as one

one hasn't a why or because or although
(and buds know better
than books
don't grow)
one's anything old being everything new
(with a what
which
around we go who)
one's everyanything so

so world is a leaf is a tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)
so here is away and so your is a my
(with a down
up
around again fly)
forever was never till now

now i love you and you love me
(and books are shutter
than books
can be)
and deep in the high that does nothing but fall
(with a shout
each
around we go all)
there's somebody calling who's we

we're everything brighter than even the sun
(we're everything greater
than books
might mean)
we're everyanything more than believe
(with a spin
leap
alive we're alive)
we're wonderful one times one

~ e.e. cummings ~
.

moonchild

.
whatever slid into my mother's room that
late june night, tapping her great belly,
summoned me out roundheaded and unsmiling.
is this the moon, my father used to grin.
cradling me? it was the moon
but nobody knew it then.

the moon understands dark places.
the moon has secrets of her own.
she holds what light she can.

we girls were ten years old and giggling
in our hand-me-downs. we wanted breasts,
pretended that we had them, tissued
our undershirts. jay johnson is teaching
me to french kiss, ella bragged, who
is teaching you? how do you say: my father?

the moon is queen of everything.
she rules the oceans, rivers, rain.
when I am asked whose tears these are
I always blame the moon.

~ Lucille Clifton ~

.

solitude

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Works of art are of an infinite solitude, and no means of approach is so useless as criticism. Only love can touch and hold them and be fair to them.

Nothing touches a work of art so little as words of criticism: they always result in more or less fortunate misunderstandings. Things aren't all so tangible and sayable as people would usually have us believe; most experiences are unsayable, they happen in a space that no word has ever entered, and more unsayable than all other things are works of art, those mysterious existences, whose life endures beside our own small, transitory life.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters To A Young Poet ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The vision of the center of this mandala beleaguered me in the same night when I completed Kabeirô -- and I even was told its name: Worlds within Worlds.

Instantly, I sensed a profound aversion to both the image and the name, and for about one week, I refused to start with the work on the mosaic.

Then, one sleepless night, I had another vision which was very weird: before I saw anything, I had the sensation that my body was a tremendous, overdimensioned black sphere which had a very small white sphere in its midpoint; not till then, I saw the image of the black sphere, but somehow two-dimensional (onyl the small white sphere in the center was three-dimensional), but I knew that my body -- more precisely: my whole self -- and the image were one and the same, and that something with it was quite wrong.

Then, after some frightening minutes or hours (I really don't know), another image arose: a white sphere, much smaller than the black one, and with a small black sphere in its middle. This white sphere was outside of my body, I only could see but not sense it, and the feeling of something quite wrong got stronger, and very scary.

The third image which arose after another frightening minutes or hours, was exactly the same I already had seen after I had completed Kabeirô: Taigitu, the symbol of life itself as well as the symbol of the polarity which forms the basis of everything in this wonderful and appalling world.

Not until then, when Taigitu arose, I understood what was wrong with the first two images: the black and the white sphere were meant to compose ONE sphere: a complete whole INSIDE myself.

On the following day, I started working on the mosaic, for I was completely aware of the NECESSITY of creating it. I just had one wish: that I was allowed to find a second name for the mandala which was concordant with my longing for staying integrated in the world of Greek mythology.

I worked on the mosaic from sunrise to sunset, and late in the night, I finally got to know the name I could welcome from the bottom of my heart: Kybele.

Kybele (English: Cybele), the great God mother of the mountain Ida (Latin: Magna Mater), was a goddess who originally was deified in Phrygien, together with her lover Attis, and later also in ancient Greece and the Roman Empire. The cult of Kybele and Attis was -- similar as the cult of Mithras -- a widespread mystery cult up to the Late Classic Period. The whole legend concerns apparently the gender dualism; it explains the origin of the world by an interaction of the male and the female element of the universe: the heavenly Attis must inseminate the mother earth Kybele with its blood so that the world can arise.

The mandala is not yet completed; I suppose that it's going to be quite huge and that I'll work on it for a couple of weeks, but I don't know definitely... -- well, we will see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

creating

I can't give you any advice but this: to go into yourself and see how deep the place is from which your life flows; at its source you will find the answer to the question whether you must create. Accept that answer, just as it is given to you, without trying to interpret it. Perhaps you will discover that you are called to be an artist. Then take the destiny upon yourself, and bear it, its burden and its greatness, without ever asking what reward might come from outside. For the creator must be a world for himself and must find everything in himself and in Nature, to whom his whole life is devoted.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters To A Young Poet ~

necessity

.
A work of art is good if it has arisen out of necessity. That is the only way one can judge it.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters To A Young Poet ~
.

patience

.

Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer. Perhaps you do carry within you the possibility of creating and forming, as an especially blessed and pure way of living; train your for that – but take whatever comes, with great trust, and as long as it comes out of your will, out of some need of your innermost self, then take it upon yourself, and don't hate anything.

Allow your judgments their own silent, undisturbed development, which, like all progress, must come from deep within and cannot be forced or hastened. Everything is gestation and then birthing. To let each impression and each embryo of a feeling come to completion, entirely in itself, in the dark, in the unsayable, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one's own understanding, and with deep humility and patience to wait for the hour when a new clarity is born: this alone is what it means to live as an artist: in understanding as in creating.

In this there is no measuring with time, a year doesn't matter, and ten years are nothing. Being an artist means: not numbering and counting, but ripening like a tree, which doesn't force its sap, and stands confidently in the storms of spring, not afraid that afterward summer may not come. It does come. But it comes only to those who are patient, who are there as if eternity lay before them, so unconcernedly silent and vast. I learn it every day of my life, learn it with pain I am grateful for: patience is everything!

~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters To A Young Poet ~

.

Sturm

.
Ich bin wie eine Fahne von Fernen umgeben.
Ich ahne die Winde, die kommen, und muss sie leben,
während die Dinge unten sich noch nicht rühren:
die Türen schliessen noch sanft, und in den Kaminen
ist Stille;
die Fenster zittern noch nicht, und der Staub ist noch
schwer.

Da weiss ich die Stürme schon und bin erregt wie das
Meer.
Und breite mich aus und falle in mich hinein
und werfe mich ab und bin ganz allein
in dem grossen Sturm.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Das Buch der Bilder ~

.

courage

.
The place where I had freedom most
was when I painted.
I was completely and utterly myself.

It was more than a profession.
It was even a therapy,
for there I just told it as it was.

It takes a lot of courage in life
to tell it how it is.

~ Alice Neel ~

.

wherever you are

Wherever you are,
in any season,
I will come to you
from the flowers

she says, and always
call me
by your native language
lest men
think I am strange

or a woman known
only in books,
I am steady as sky
and no further away,

see me in your own
color, my lips
shape the same myths
you live inside,

whenever you do this
I am with you,
to kiss you often to sleep
or wake you
sudden or gentle,
a mouth
in the middle of things.

~ Robert Kelly ~

THE CLOUDHERD'S SONG

Learn the new way
whatever it is at all
the beginning and what will you do
the end and what is done

learn the green mistakes
your father fell
and when you young
are beautifully wrong

when they teach you
loving say No
say Yes in the middle of No
be kind in emptiness

no one knows anything
so believe them all
a style is seduction
and worth a kiss

but dont get married
learn ships and wind
and all ways to go
when the tongue leaves the mouth

and the sky is not just money
and the sea is mostly wet
and Anywhere Anywhere
your lovesong your anthem

and Everywhere Everywhere
should be your mother
ask nothing but to give
and never remember

what you'll never forget
a bright road running
when you want nothing
and there is no different from here.

~ Robert Kelly ~

TOWARDS THE DAY OF LIBERATION

Quiet and the shell
opens
a sound out
beneath any sea
we may have happened
to hear --
something
far, itself, no land
in sight, not
all this island music.

~ Robert Kelly ~

creation

Creation
happens to us, burns into us, changes us,
we tremble and swoon, we submit.
Creation -- we participate in it,
we encounter the creator,
offer ourselves to him,
helpers and companions.

~ Martin Buber ~

poetry

I decided that it was not wisdom that enabled [poets] to write their poetry, but a kind of instinct or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets who deliver all their sublime messages without knowing in the least what they mean.

~ Socrates ~