September – Fall Walk – Audio Update

The light is changing
The earth has tilted and cracked the veil once more
Eternity’s magic rushes in as the Mundane surrenders It’s hold
Spilling into and over from that Place where things are as they Ought to be

That place of consummation, the exquisite
Where hunger is satiated and longing finds rest
The light shimmers and sparkles and shines
Dancing off multicolored hues, moved about by the cooling breezes

Shades of green, yellows, reds, and brown
Are alive in the new light
My Soul is quickened
Sweet with a sadness who’s ache stirs a longing now frantic for life

Distractions vanish the fog lifts, clarity calls, nudges, and beckons me
Awake from the dreary dream and its shadowy forms
Smothered Soul surges from the depths desperate to break the surface
Filling the void, the vacuum, with substance

Past and future’s illusions fall away, Now is all
Eternity’s rapture rushes through spirit and flesh

Conquest complete, I am captured and held in the sway of my Beloved

Ego broken, Self surrendered to that which is Real and beyond the senses
Passion rises, staking an unequivocal claim to what is mine by birth

Yes, Yes, Yes, I am, It is, We are joined in the Creator’s dance and feel it’s power
Moved, broken, and remade in the image of what Ought to be but is now not, Yet
Joy and Sorrow live together there in that place between the Now and that which is coming

But that is living.  Being alive brings pain and pleasure sometimes at once
Holding them in tension is living and is the power of creation
First the sun, now the bright light muted in the cool quiet rain
Tender gentle drops fall and break on me
I hear them fall, kissing the leaves on their way

Communion with Her, the rest, the easy conversation heals and renews hope
The changing light transforms the sky’s tears into jewels to adorn my skin
My heart breaks with joy to know the living of it
I see, I feel, I breathe in the magic of what has always been hidden within view

And am grateful for the times when my slumbering soul blinks awake
My Soul’s secret and silent hallelujah erupts and thunders It’s release
I rise on the currents of spirit and flesh knowing the God of life
Then collapse, spent, humbled, sweetness feeds my spirit, gratefulness Her response

Even now Eternity recedes, flowing back into the depths, leaving me uncovered, unfinished
Longing’s lure and it’s exquisite ache points the way
Both sunshine and rain will fall
Bitter and sweet will fill the cup.
Don’t avoid one for the other.

Be nourished by both.

Rapture requires grief to balance what is not yet with how it Ought to be.
This is true living
For, “There are cracks in everything, and that’s how the light gets in.”

Thank you Mr. Cohen

Be Groovy 🙂

Creative Destruction – Reaching for the Real – Plato’s Groove

The idea of Plato’s Groove is creative and musical with the feeling of good jazz or R&B.  It is philosophical in that it seeks truth or answers or even better questions beyond the curtain of the Wizard.  It is spiritual for that is the energy of existence. It is that in which we live and move and have our being.  It will endeavor to speak to the flow of creativity, a pull on the Soul toward truth and meaning and purpose.  Answers to the questions of the heart, that which motivates the quest, and ultimately satiates desire, all are metaphors for the unique groove or flow our souls seem to seek, even yearn for.  I come at Plato a bit indirectly and claim no real expertise except that which I know from my own experience.  His cave analogy and rough ideas around the Real that exists and calls to us here in this shadowy and generally undefined existence are the hooks I hang such thoughts on.

Creative destruction seems an appropriate concept to describe the current experience of my soul.  Destruction is sure.  The creative is a blind statement of faith.  I am a man who loves his family yet have let them down.  I am a man with some small success and reputation yet feel unaccomplished.  I am a man who has experienced much yet feel ignorant and uninitiated.  I am a man who carries  deep compassion for others yet now have nothing to give.  I am a lover of words and of the “profound” yet they ring shallow and hollow in my being.

I have pursued various pathways seeking the answers to the questions, the mate to the desires of my heart.  I have always been afflicted by these motivations and they have brought both blessings and curses.  As a boy odd questions would occur to me for which I could find no answer.  The result was just more questions. This trait made me different in general and sensitive to process and in the higher levels of my education “profound”.  It is funny to me that just by not recycling the same old concepts bandied about got me rewarded with A’s.  Nothing really accomplished just mastered the education game.  I did similar things with the athletic game, the religious game, the business game, the judicial, and the political games.  Was rewarded with bits of paper and shiny things that allowed me to buy food, to survive, to keep playing the game.  Sometimes there was even applause.  Now mastered made be too strong a word.  Its not like I won all of those games.  It may be more correctly stated that I figured out that there were rules behind the rules of the games.  And each had a Wizard behind the curtain keeping the Munchkins in line.

At each point there was a destruction and a reordering of me.  So at least I have a history that re-creation follows the destruction.  That is the faith part.  The most recent experience had to do with the games that I had been playing.  No longer focused on the outer games.  Imagine my shock and wonder when I stepped, stumbled, and fell through my own curtain.  As I lifted my gaze a river of horror and disgust flooded my soul when my eyes met my own looking back at me.  I was the thing I said I despised, the Wizard.   And now that Oz has crumbled, or is even now crumbling I sit looking at the ruin seeking something, anything to salvage.  My sons have been watching this process for some months.  Recently my eldest reminded me of a concept that had meant something to me, Plato’s Groove.  My middle son reminded me of things that though true should not be printed in a public forum.:)  They both have assisted me in their own ways. They even tried to help an old man figure out how to blog.

So I will write.  To whom?  Ultimately I can not foresee.  But I know one guy I hope to reach.  He is in dire need.  I saw it in my ashen face when I saw myself behind the curtain.  As I sift through the rubble I find scattered all around me thoughts and ideas, poems and stories and songs that need a place to go and be.  I have made for them a place and I called it Plato’s Groove.  If you should wander in here be welcome.  If you find something you need please help yourself (within all relevant copy-write considerations of course).  And if you should like to leave something of yours please do as long as its helpful and honest and you are not stupid.  Ignorance is welcomed.  I have plenty.  Can’t do much about stupid and I have enough for this site already.  If something stupid is published here it will come from me.  Hope You find your Groove!

. . . . ways people grow

A Bird on a Wire
(L. Cohen – An Interpretation)

Where is your habitation
Origins unknown
Destiny’s dull desire dances out of reach
Longing lures
Lost, looking toward the next horizon
Drama of I played out once more
Familiar plots and themes and resolutions mingle with matter
Spirit and form and substance coalesce
Life again given to the Play
Like a bird on a wire
Held by grasping feet
Like a drunk in a choir
Finally at rest, secure
Safely stoned, at one with the Sacred
Fleeing frightening Freedom

Habitation is just habits
Origins, the Silent Stillness
Destiny done, already
Longing for what Is, already
Lost, lingering in the Mirror
Drama’s dance, Dread and Delight
Creature become Creator
Disconnected from Self
Seeking something Else
Surrender Godhood and see God
Let go grasping feet
Sacred Soul is the Lover
Freedom found when seeking surrendered

- Plato's Groove


Talking to the Wind

 I’ve been gone.
There are just some things a man must do alone.
So if they ask you where I’ve been just look at them and grin
And tell them – He’s been talking to the wind.

(1)I’ve been talking to the wind
Telling her the paces that I’ve been
And though she don’t have much to say
I think I like it best that way
And I can feel her tender touch upon my skin

(R) I’ve been gone.
There are just some things a man must do alone.
So if they ask you where I’ve been just look at them and grin
And tell them – He’s been talking to the wind.

(2)I’ve been singing to the breeze
Songs that have put me on my knees
And while she has yet to sing along
I know she understands my songs
And she fills me when it seems too hard to breath

(3)I’ve been raging at the storm
Standing at the place where hearts are torn
I look unblinking in her eyes
And I can feel the anger rise
I remember strength. And in the fire I am reborn.