Just Come Down and Hold My Hand!

 The following is a quote taken from Stephen Levine’s Biography “Turning Toward the Mystery”.  It is one of my favorite expressions of Love.

Late in his life, J. Krishnamurti (the writer, philosopher, and spiritual speaker) addressed a large assembly.

He spoke with his accustomed softness and care for a few minutes.

Then he called on a fellow who had raised his hand with a question.

Krishnamurti answered slowly, then stopped and began again, then stopped again. 

Then he said his aging had caused him to not always be very sharp and would the fellow just come down and hold his hand.

It was a teaching for us all that someday all that might be left of us is our love.

On Prose and Poetry
that Open the Heart  

     This weekend, I was inspired by Robert Henri's The Art Spirit. Quotes from his book appeared in Doreen Gildroy's column in the May/June issue of The American Poetry Review.   Like the above lake, his words reflect my own experience.

There are moments in our lives, there are moments in a day,  when we seem to see beyond the usual.   Such are the moments of our greatest wisdom.  If one could but recall their vision by some sort of sign.   It was in this hope that the arts were invented.    Sign-posts on the way to what may be.     Sign-posts toward greater knowledge.

*

The object of painting a picture is not to make a picture—however unreasonable this may sound.  The picture, if a picture results, is a by-product and may be useful, valuable, interesting as a sign of what has past.  The object, which is back of every true work of art, is the attainment of a state of being, a state of high functioning, a more than ordinary moment of existence.  In such moments activity is inevitable, and whether this activity is with brush, pen, chisel, or tongue, its result is but a by-product of the state, a trance, the footprint of the state.

      These result, however crude, become dear to the artist who made them because they are records of states of being which [one] has enjoyed and which [one] would regain.  They are likewise interesting to others because they are to some extent readable and reveal the possibilities of greater existence.

*

There is an undercurrent, the real life, beneath all appearances everywhere.  I do not say that any master has fully comprehended it at any time, but the value of [their] work is in that [they] have sensed it and [their] work reports the measure of their experience.

It is this sense of the persistent life force back of things which makes the eye see and the hand move in ways that result in true masterpieces.

Writing Meditation

 ONENESS

                                                   (after Andy Baggott )    

                                    

"L eap-splash – a frog."  

~ Basho (1644-1694) 

Look,

just this bowl...

and

images struggling

to contain its contents:

Air, light, shadow, stillness.

Thoughts...

More thoughts...

Letting go...

More letting go.

  

Look,

just        this       bowl...

and

the chatter

of "me/not me.”

Who is entering the stillness

Looking?

Look, Basho!

Leap, Splash - a bowl.

~ Cedric ~

One of the joys of this summer is practicing "meditative writing."

Here are the guidelines that speak to me.

Practicing Meditative Writing

    1.   Find   your place, and sit comfortably.

2.   Get in touch with your breathing.

3.   When you become still and relaxed,
     close your eyes and slowly count your breaths to ten.

4.   Now open your eyes (and other senses),
     and be present to the moment.

5.    What are your first impressions?

6.   Write them down as simply as possible,
     without getting caught up in critical thinking.

7.   Now sit quietly, reading the words,
     and recalling the feelings the first impression evoked.

8.   Close your eyes again, and listen.

9.   Again note down any deeper impressions.

10.Now allow the notes to guide your writing.
     Or, as I like to say, "Simply stir and enjoy!"

Saved by a Promise

Dusk—

Birdsong floating through
my open window.

"You do not know,"
I hear myself saying.

And in floats

this new song through

my sad heart. 

“Listen. Sense the promise.”

How wonderful!

~ Cedric ~

Prelude to a Poem

I wrote this poem recently after experiencing a

deep sense of “promise” at the end of the day.

It was the first day of summer.

Along with summer, there came the realization

that I no longer had the physical stamina to continue

leading the Thursday Meditation Circles.

In two short years, this group had become a

significant part of my life.

I had been touched in so many ways

by so many people.

 As faces and echoes of conversations

floated through my consciousness,

I was filled with feelings of sadness and loss.

 In giving up these sessions,

I was losing something very precious.

What would the future bring now?

It was then that I was grasped by the insight

that one never knows the future.

Unknowing is a part of life.

 This led to a surprising feeling of joy and trust

flooding into my heart, and I experienced

a promise of new possibilities.

I do not know what will unfold in my life,

but I do know that the Divine Presence

is fulfilling my life and all life.