"Woman with Hawk"
From a rapidograph series circa 1974 NYC by AlexRa (unfinished and damaged)
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"In Other Words" (Composed Spring/Summer 2012)
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In Other Words
The hardness of
soft living engages my understanding. The freedom from wage slavery is much
appreciated, but the attrition of stimuli, the lack of camaraderie and the absence
of a spouse and the silence it engenders, accompanied simultaneously by the clamor
and hyperactive activity of the mechanized world creates an often disquieting
contrasting condition.
Acute feelings of
separation from time, place and station are the consequence of numerous
journeys and changes of residence, the seduction of masterworks and fantastic,
hallucinogenic sequences of haphazardly associate imagery that resulted in revelation
and awe. Thus ensnared by my susceptibilities, my sensibilities were entangled
and the ennobling thoughts of peace and equality that may have been a
consequence of this incongruity, instead detail with incisive exactitude what
others may sense, but have not encountered and cannot understand.
Nevertheless
although it is believed by some that all of life is maya*, the realistic laws of nature alarmingly continue
to prevail in their inalterability and pitiless priorities. The extraordinary
complexity and majesty of creation concurrently provides me with life-affirming
reassurance and veneration prevails, but it is also this structure and contrast
that also allow reproof for my dissatisfactions and the recurring shroud of
melancholy.
The mixed
blessing of empathy for nature and love of family, friends and animal
companions co-exist in tandem with thoughts about the end of life -- -- be that anticipatory relief, resolution,
respite or liberation.
Remembering the
opportunity and privilege of youth, at this juncture of aging -- confidence,
except for occasional concern and periodic fractious instincts, appears to be shelved
permanently.
Despite the boon
of a eureka moments, even modest self-induced assignments appear to fail time
and time again. Even a simple compassionate, altruistic offer was recently
rejected and the desire to be useful frustrated -- more often than not because of
the necessary interaction and dependence
on the surrounding peopled milieu, which only serves to demonstrate what some
would deem the reward of a surplus of experience and others, a jaded
perspective.
The brothers and
sisters of the 'love generation,' with whom I had such great rapport and who I
believed comprised a much larger part of the population than they (we) actually
did, seem to all have dispersed. No
doubt, because of the necessity, like me, to make a living. They were, for the most part, once again assimilated
into the establishment that was so
fervently denounced and was sought to be discarded entirely.
Insofar past
tender aspects, assiduously nurtured, with my love interest are concerned,
they more or less lie fallow. The ripening memories are no longer constantly prolonged
and amplified by daydreams and the grandness of his tributes have only remote bearing
in the unadorned closeted days of my existence.
Albeit admiration for craft and beauty remains -- perhaps because art,
contrary to romance, need not sustain the fanfare of edifying and housing reality.
The chance was
then -- when we took for granted the zenith, the mark and tenure of energy and
youth and more, the place… the time of being when the fulcrum of change and
innovation germinated and was not reprimanded or curtained by actuality.
Now, when brief,
wordless connections do occur, the impression
is at times aggressive and imperious, once or twice plaintive and most
agreeable -- pleasant, forthcoming and supportive.
A reminder? A call to action...or
relief and/or thankfulness for silence and inaction?
In lieu of appropriate
graveside words, of which there shall be none from either of us -- art is a concrete signpost that all was not
negligible. The sacrificial lamb
yielded, cloaked in honor and the twin constellations provided pleasure and sustenance to a clan who
acquired enlightenment while at the same time being kept in the dark.
Anguished
unheeded admonitions were part and parcel of my existence and to me reasonable
explanations in the experience of boldly casting about for a life. The
aesthetic pleasure, the challenge to attain rapture and magnificence was achieved, but perfect alignment was
the result of passion of some time past and activity toward achievement is now whittled
to a hand span.
These comparisons
festoon my bower with the privilege of knowledge and the irony of attending a
feast shared with my counterpart only symbolically.
And on this clear
deck -- the waves cascade unanswered and uncelebrated, but the way is, for a
time, even tempered and purposeful in every day commonplace matters, only if to
subsist with more is not available and may, in fact, strike one as avaricious
and while ideas, dreams and projects beget failure and undermine me, I beguile
myself with the imagined comfort of there may be reasons why things developed
as they did.
It is as if in
this sphere of constrained simplicity my nature acquiesces to revisit the
innocent virtuousness of long ago, before the mating game was afoot, before the
deliberateness of a particular accomplishment goaded me mercilessly and relentlessly
to discover consanguinity and assuredness with a helpmeet -- long before
enchantment and imposing aspirations were at stake.
At peace with the
past is the realization of the inevitability of what comes and what cannot be
resurrected, rather than the hope, aspiration, desire that heretofore provided
the momentum. In that, lies not the
clarity and charity of forgiveness or the lucid comprehension of why and how, but
the resolution of sanity.
Of course in that
life often demands recompense, the consequence of this unfettered state of mind
is the failing compromised garment of self and the specter of extinction that
will come to pass when all functions cease and are extinguished and the body is
vanquished to join the timeless universal consortium of matter.
Setting aside a
stoic outlook or proclivities of martyrdom, freedom is granted to my pride and
all prayers ascend, what matter the origin of feathers that lift the wings that
kiss the wind and strive heavenward?
The delight in
nature’s treasures and appreciation of every day comforts and entertainments
nurture and sustain. While not the
cherished and protected feeling of early childhood, the goodness of life and
appreciation of counted blessings have presented themselves in the unexpected
benefit of attitude adjustments, embedded in the chemistry of emotions that is
stabilized and tearful aspects, for the moment, no longer have such an
penetrating impact on my life as I am privileged to live it.
Albeit no cosmic
proportions are readily apparent in the mundane perspectives of daily
activities, every living thing nevertheless arrives at its uniqueness and
complexity and although humankind strived and achieved to tread on the moon, no
living thing has yet to be created without nature's building blocks. The cycle of life and death is grounded in
indisputable fact and its remorseless certainty will make even the most
self-confident and arrogant take notice.
And in the relative scheme of things --the fateful insufferable shortcomings of the poorly chosen partners of my past, the wolf slavering at the door, betrayals by friends, the toxic miasma I breathe and restrictions and disadvantages of various sorts give rise to the thought that whereas humankind cannot live by bread alone, eloquent words, fabled dreams and love professed and promised have mitigated sorrows and concerns, but have not entirely compensated.**
Be that as it
may, like for many, a loving, faithful lifelong relationship with a spouse
revealed itself to be unattainable for me. (Lest I forget -- fate did grant me a few years of happiness, as if to give me a frame of reference, so that in
retrospect, I know that what I was striving was actually possible!)
Be that as it may,
evidently I still aspire to share with one I think understands better than
anyone in the world the ambivalent feelings that evolved pertaining to the
process of struggle and travail to realize desire that was purchased with
irresistible sentiment and creatively expressed by him with skill that left my
being vulnerable and overcome by want but tethered my soul to bliss and
concurrently entertained the intellect and gratified the need to be
acknowledged and appreciated.
Memory replays
the striving for access to what proved to be insurmountable – a house of many
windows, but one door, the key for which was never to be discovered. Had it been presaged, I would surely have
disdainfully deemed it a craven malediction but to now, in the present, to interpret
the matter as not only unconventional, but sheer madness, would only serve to
undermine sensitive, artistic, romantic hearts.
Never once was
there question of forgetfulness -- having established surprising compatibility
in an incomparable liaison and having been granted the experience of
inspiration remains to this day invaluable and touching.
Few in life can
lay claim to a grand passion and even if our friendship, as it is commonly understood, is circumscribed and compromised by
parameters set by fear and uncertainty -- within the established fixed goal
posts of distance, separation and communication, cradled in artistic
expression, our connection is seasoned by a mind-set that exonerates
disappointments and has resolved into a conciliatory impasse and rapprochement
that is sustaining and comforting. ***
* in Indian religions,
has multiple meanings, usually quoted as "illusion", centered on the
fact that we do not experience the environment itself but rather a projection
of it, created by us. Māyā is the principal deity that manifests, perpetuates
and governs the illusion
and dream
of duality
in the phenomenal Universe. For some mystics,
this manifestation is real.[1]
Each person, each physical object, from the perspective of eternity, is like a
brief, disturbed drop of water from an unbounded ocean. The goal of enlightenment is to understand this—more
precisely, to experience this: to see intuitively that the distinction between
the self and the Universe is a false dichotomy.
The distinction between consciousness and physical matter, between mind
and body (refer bodymind), is the result
of an unenlightened perspective.
** Too much by far to expect, no doubt.
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shocked
to consciousness in the dead of night
his
calls like grim shots shatter diverting dreams
a
stalking, insolent sound -- brutal and
rapacious
-- far off a cackling jackal
mocks and taunts
awakened
from desired rest, identity manifests
individuality
is revealed and awareness salvaged
recollections
of perilous explorations surface
and
remembrance of a dutiful life are exposed
gentler
by far -- the tone at the break of day
conjuring
treasured, opulent, melodious songs
resurrecting promises that apprise me of interest
a
connection, a signal of past times
shared
empathic,
familiar, convivial, feelings are unveiled
an
affirmative wordless pledge of loyalty and solicitude
the
guardian reminds me of avariciousness and trepidation
but
silence brings only bitter despondent lifelessness now
instead
fear of malice is momentarily suspended
liberating
insight and a pledge of constancy prevail
dreams
doomed to failure are temporarily revived
and
the heart permits sentiments of trust and faith
he
lives! a signal of value and welcome
reassurance
an
indication of gratifying acceptance and tender consent
a
shy response demonstrating ardor and earnestness
a
reminder of what was once exclusively ours
alone
encouragement
developed years ago is unveiled
a
smile of assurance and wellbeing touches my lips
and
once, in truth, in shame… a whimper of
gratitude
even
if uncertain of intent... inimitability is mine to celebrate
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pause,
rest, peace
prospecting
for words among unlimited resources
by
recommended spokespersons with watchful minds
i
needed them to proceed, to reawaken and regenerate
to
try and capture the wayward considerations of your heart
i
explored my mind's innermost inchoate being
to
lay bare emotion acknowledged but incarcerated
by
way of loan and borrowing we clamored
evermore
seeking to enhance riches of meaning
your
incandescent back pages transgressed ideology
and
in a voice reserved for potent preachers
you
read my mind and prompted me to expose
almost
all.. like you, to a judging world
never
will you know exposure's fragility
and
the hopefulness your objective is honorable
as
we examine and reassess all that went before
with
steely resolve to right a wrong with word and song
this,
that we sought to keep untouched pure
advanced to expressions of vile and wanton conflict
never
dreamt of, never intended to cause grief
why
did words lead, where hearts could not follow?
if
before me you depart, you know I will weep
unable
to have ever resisted what you had wrought
be
that neutral or amorous and chivalrous
sagacious,
redemptive or chastising
again
to struggle to be exonerated from wickedness
that
so thrust us into mad impulse and despair
to
again raise rational orthodox ways and
means
to
redeem a lad and maid we once cared for
****
****
I'll Remember You - Bob Dylan
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The times were fast, my friend, and we rode that train 'til it rusted into the ground. Music, poetry, thoughts, feelings and memories were ours. They're on the shelf for safe keeping. Behind the wall, this karmic bond remains it seems -- for how many lifetimes more, one can only wonder. In the amber eventide at the gate -- solitary, silent, listening, waiting -- all that might have been.
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Remarks re: writer's block deleted 1/24, also "Law of Detachment" : author: anon)
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Light Fare
Perpetuating nobility of heart-- persuasive in its intent, encrypted with sage advice, giving rise to liberating confirmation and redemptive assurance.
Devoid of time worn phrases...perfect in delivery, response and ancient universal sentiment -- revisited, refreshed and renewed.
Harken and behold the messenger welcomed lighthearted intrusion -- assertive and direct.
Dramatic presentations from unknown well-springs of creativity distracted, emboldened, celebrating the energy of being.
Gratified to be trusted and worthy of comment, secure to be understood... a consolation.
Grateful existence was enhanced by art, fortunate in the belief tributes were inspired.
Reassured of appreciation in an uncaring world -- elevated, set apart from the everyday in a niche of private thought...there to escape and dream, choosing benevolence over misalliance, accord over misery.
