Day 4
I mean to write as things come to me: if time reveals me as the More Fool, so be it. As if I am not already, what?
Selective attention/selective inattention: this came to me as I walked from school to the stop. Again, this quiet peacefulness in me, like a wave that stays and moves through me all at once. Mulling over again my Christ-waffling, and yet feeling as if it his presence as much as anyone else's in this wave of peace. Bringing me to the notion of attention. Given: THEY are always present: WE may not be. Attend, and they are experienced. Inattend, and WE disappear. Inattention is less my problem: willfully shutting them out - that is my style.
Who they are, I suspect is as relevant or irrelevant as the names of our childhood "imaginal" friends. I name them Mary, Yemaya, sometimes Tara, because I am comfortable with these names, they resonate, because there is - certainly in the case of Mary - a very old sense of devotion, from early early childhood. Yemaya, because she came to me, adopted me. I was going to say that Christ never came as did Yemaya, for which I have given him a fair amount of grief as one of my many straw dogs. But, consider this possibility: he has been in the room with all the rest, and I have willfully neglected his presence. Striker in the corner, quietly smoking his pipe. What does Frodo feel: suspicion and hostility.
Open the windows: see who else is in the room.
But again, to the names: we name as we see fit, as we are led.
It was a morning for visitors: Rh, the magpie; Larry, with stories; B, with stories of Harcourt and Randstad; Queen B, back from he own walkabouts. My own visit to Sh, to wish her well as she leaves. All these folks, I think, blessing me in my own search, somehow easing the way.
Scorpio to the last: the latest obsession: pre-crucifixion story, the man in linen who follows for a while after the disciples have fled. Seized, he flees naked, the linen torn from his body. Google him, and you find: the gospelist Mark himself, Saul before Paul, nobody in particular, an initiate into Jesus' mystery school, and/or Jesus' lover. Chatter about the "Secret Gospel of Mark." I'm not particularly drawn to any of these suggestions, though I am certainly drawn to the mystery. The words that are there do not explain the significance of their being there: what is unsaid is what carries the weight.
Selective attention/selective inattention: this came to me as I walked from school to the stop. Again, this quiet peacefulness in me, like a wave that stays and moves through me all at once. Mulling over again my Christ-waffling, and yet feeling as if it his presence as much as anyone else's in this wave of peace. Bringing me to the notion of attention. Given: THEY are always present: WE may not be. Attend, and they are experienced. Inattend, and WE disappear. Inattention is less my problem: willfully shutting them out - that is my style.
Who they are, I suspect is as relevant or irrelevant as the names of our childhood "imaginal" friends. I name them Mary, Yemaya, sometimes Tara, because I am comfortable with these names, they resonate, because there is - certainly in the case of Mary - a very old sense of devotion, from early early childhood. Yemaya, because she came to me, adopted me. I was going to say that Christ never came as did Yemaya, for which I have given him a fair amount of grief as one of my many straw dogs. But, consider this possibility: he has been in the room with all the rest, and I have willfully neglected his presence. Striker in the corner, quietly smoking his pipe. What does Frodo feel: suspicion and hostility.
Open the windows: see who else is in the room.
But again, to the names: we name as we see fit, as we are led.
It was a morning for visitors: Rh, the magpie; Larry, with stories; B, with stories of Harcourt and Randstad; Queen B, back from he own walkabouts. My own visit to Sh, to wish her well as she leaves. All these folks, I think, blessing me in my own search, somehow easing the way.
Scorpio to the last: the latest obsession: pre-crucifixion story, the man in linen who follows for a while after the disciples have fled. Seized, he flees naked, the linen torn from his body. Google him, and you find: the gospelist Mark himself, Saul before Paul, nobody in particular, an initiate into Jesus' mystery school, and/or Jesus' lover. Chatter about the "Secret Gospel of Mark." I'm not particularly drawn to any of these suggestions, though I am certainly drawn to the mystery. The words that are there do not explain the significance of their being there: what is unsaid is what carries the weight.
posted by murat11 at 12:52 PM
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