Today, I’m giving you a two-fer. A post based in my spiritual practice of photography that led creating something new (an animation) and a tanka! And then an invitation.
Invitation to Contemplation
Where is your light today? What is inspiring you? Transforming you? What is allowing you to be love to the world?
“Your purpose in life is to find your purpose and give your whole heart and soul to it”
― Gautama Buddha
…
rolling downhill
exuberant joy bubbling
authenticity
laid in unity with joy
foundation – loving kindness
…
…
…
Invitation to Participation
During Advent, the time for Christians where they are preparing for Christmas and the celebration of the birth of Jesus, we will be running a creative invitation based on scripture that are in the common daily reading plan for many Christian traditions.
I would like to invite people to pick a day and sponsor it.
What that means is, if you are a photographer, maybe you would like to choose a day such as December 10 where the focus in on the poor and needy being refreshed with water. That leaves a lot of room open for various images. On December 10, then we would post your photo here with the scripture and have an invitation to those around the world to offer their response via posting a link to their own blog! You would be leading the community on that particular day!
Is it necessary to be of the Christian faith?
No. It is sacred scripture for Christians, so please respect it. But you can approach it from your tradition (or from no tradition). The emphasis is on creative response and crystallizing meaning as it pertains to your path. Advent is also the beginning of the Christian calendar year, so a theme of beginning again is also in play.
Photography, artwork, mandala, essay, poems (and the many types there are), music, drama. Something that re-imagines what the words are saying and crystallizes meaning. The meaning may be a traditional point-of-view or it may be something that turns us upside down!
RSVP and Technicalities
Please contact me at cloakedmonk@outlook.com to negotiate the day or days you would like to sponsor. Deadline for submissions: November 10, 2013. I will ask you for your choice of scripture(s), a brief bio (2-3 sentences), any links you want to make to blogs or other things, and, of course, your submission(s).
REV. TERRI STEWART is Into the Bardo’s Sunday chaplain, senior content editor, and site co-administrator. She comes from an eclectic background and considers herself to be grounded in contemplation and justice. She is the Director and Founder of the Youth Chaplaincy Coalition that serves youth affected by the justice system. As a graduate of Seattle University’s School of Theology and Ministry, she earned her Master’s of Divinity and a Post-Master’s Certificate in Spiritual Direction. She is a contributing author to the Abingdon Worship Annual. (The 2014 issue just released!)
Wow, the first in the series of Poets Against War or Poets for Peace. Hopefully I can do it justice! In riffing on peace and war, several things came together in my mind – or rather, many things came hopping through it! I hope the resulting series of images, words, and music will act as a meditation for you on this first day of Poets Against War. This will be synchro-posted at my blog, http://www.cloakedmonk.com. Feel free to reblog or synchropost elsewhere just link back to here.
First, a meme (my new favorite weird thing to do – make memes)…
Second, I have been noodling this around and the predominant thought I had was to sing a duet with my son, Colin Stewart. Colin is 17 and much more talented than I! But we held it together in order to sing an old church song, Peace Give I to Thee. Colin is playing the ukelele and singing. I confess that our sound system is not wonderful, so we both tempered ourselves to not blow out the microphones. It is accompanied by photos I took in the Bellevue Botanical Garden which bring me incredible peace.
Finally, the nature of the quest: Poets Against War or Poets for Peace. So black and white, it begs a reflection.
dichotomy
war destroys peace
hate destroys love
butterfly destroys chrysalis
child destroys dandelion
lion destroys lamb
lamb redeems lion
dandelion redeems child
chrysalis redeems butterfly
love redeems hate
peace redeems war
unity
And another old favorite, “Breathe Deep” by the Lost Dogs which speaks to the unity of all-even when we are uncomfortable with that unity.
REV. TERRI STEWART is Into the Bardo’s Sunday chaplain, senior content editor, and site co-administrator. She comes from an eclectic background and considers herself to be grounded in contemplation and justice. She is the Director and Founder of the Youth Chaplaincy Coalition that serves youth affected by the justice system. As a graduate of Seattle University’s School of Theology and Ministry, she earned her Master’s of Divinity and a Post-Master’s Certificate in Spiritual Direction. She is a contributing author to the Abingdon Worship Annual. (The 2014 issue just released!)
Her online presence is “Cloaked Monk.” This speaks to her grounding in contemplative arts and the need to live it out in the world. The cloak is the disguise of normalcy as she advocates for justice and peace. You can find her at www.cloakedmonk.com, www.twitter.com/cloakedmonk, and www.facebook.com/cloakedmonk.
“Sudden massive coronary events” are dominating my thinking lately. I am reading Joan Didion’s account of her husband’s death in The Year of Magical Thinking and recently browsed the pertinent pages of Ekaterina Gordeeva’s book My Sergei while waiting for Steve to glean salable items from Good Will on Tuesday. I am also writing my own memoirs of my husband Jim in a Continuing Ed course. What struck me this morning was the role of the grieving person’s best friend as hero. Not the knight-in-shining-armor type hero, but the simple, calming presence modelling a way to be. In a moment when shock obscures all notions of how to act, having a trusted person exhibit some caring, helpful behavior is a distinct grace.
My mother was that hero to me when my sister was killed in a car crash. Alice and I were traveling across country together, enjoying the freedom of being 20 and (almost) 17 when it happened. My mother cobbled together connecting flights from San Jose to reach me in Nebraska the next morning. She got me discharged from the hospital and set us up in a hotel while she went through all the details of bringing Alice’s ashes back to California. We went to the mortuary the next day. I was still rather zombie-like while my mother handled the business. Then the director asked us if we would like to see the body. “Absolutely,” was my mother’s reply. For some reason, I hadn’t realized that was why we were there. I hesitated. Mom led me into the room while the director closed the door. “Oh, honey,” she sighed as she approached the table. “No, she’s not there. She’s gone. Look here…” she began to comment on Alice’s wounds, on her swollen face and how old she looked, as if she were a battered wife decades in the future. My mom said something about all the suffering her daughter had been spared. Then she tenderly bend down and kissed that pale, waxy forehead. My mother has never looked more beautiful to me in all my life than she did at that moment. Strong, compassionate, wise and incredibly beautiful. I wanted to be like her, so I kissed my sister’s forehead, too.
photo credit: Dharam Kaur Khalsa
Gordeeva writes about her coach, Marina, prompting her to go into the ICU room where her husband lay. “Don’t be afraid. Go talk to him. He can still hear you.” She goes in and begins to unlace his skates, a normal gesture that helps loosen her words, her tears, her emotions. I remember our priest asking me and two of my daughters if we’d like to anoint Jim with some olive oil, bathe his face, and prepare his body to be taken away. It was a relief to excuse ourselves from the people downstairs in the living room and go up to him together, to say our goodbyes together, to touch him one more time. I am so grateful someone thought of allowing us that right then. We had another opportunity to say goodbye to his body at the funeral home later when my two other children came home. By then, I could take the lead with them and encourage them to approach. I can’t remember who started humming “Amazing Grace”, but we all joined in, musical family that we are, and swayed together, arms and bodies entwined.
In the aftermath of Jim’s death, my youngest daughter and I fought frequently. I didn’t know how to talk to her, to listen to her anger directed at me and recognize that she wasn’t hateful, only grieving. Steve was the one who suggested that she was hurt, not hurtful and agreed to sit by me while we attempted an honest conversation. My instinct was to run away. I was grateful to observe someone who could be calm and present, reasonable and compassionate in the face of powerful emotions that frightened me. He is adamant about not rescuing me, but equally determined to be the best friend he can be.
I hope that I will have opportunities to be a great friend to someone in grief. I would like to be a conduit of such grace.
PRISCILLA GALASSO ~ started her blog at scillagrace.com to mark the beginning of her fiftieth year. Born to summer and given a name that means ‘ancient’, her travel through seasons of time and landscape has inspired her to create visual and verbal souvenirs of her journey.
“My courage is in the affirmation of my part in co-creation”, she wrote in her first published poem, composed on her thirtieth birthday and submitted alongside her seven-year-old daughter’s poem to Cricket magazine. Her spiritual evolution began in an Episcopal environment and changed in pivotal moments: as a teenager, her twenty-year-old sister died next to her in a car crash and, decades later, Priscilla’s husband and the father of her four children died of coronary artery disease and diabetes in his sleep at the age of forty-seven Awakening to mindfulness and reconsidering established thought patterns continues to be an important part of her life work.
Currently living in Wisconsin, she considers herself a lifelong learner and educator. She gives private voice lessons, is employed by two different museums and runs a business (Scholar & Poet Books, via eBay and ABE Books) with her partner, Steve.
Praying in Color is a prayer or meditation practice that utilizes what I would categorize as doodling to help focus on that which you would pray or focus on. I consider it to be fun, but as previously discussed, I have spiritual ADHD and am inclined towards using visual tools in my spiritual expression. I developed this practice for myself using the book Praying in Color: Drawing a New Path to God by Sybil MacBeth.
With a clean sheet before you (or a good computer finger painting app – I used the app “Fingerpaint” for the Surface) and pens, markers, crayons, or pencils in hand, I invite you to enter into prayer…
To begin, draw an imperfect shape and write the name of the person you wish to pray for:
Alternately, you could begin with your image of the divine, your own name, or even leaving the shape empty embracing the idea of the mystery in our midst.
Next, begin to add detail to the drawing…dots, lines, squiggles, wiggles, whatever you want! Don’t overthink, just go with the flow. This is not a place for your inner art critic to emerge. This is simple prayer. Continue to add detail to the drawing-each pen stroke an intentional prayer.
When you feel that this is complete, draw a new shape and add another person. But first, take a moment to close out the first person with some sort of closure to the prayer or meditation (amen, so be it, shalom, etc.). Also, you may want to take a cleansing pause before jumping onto the next person. Or you may want to immediately move forward to the next person. Do what is right for you and the situation.
Repeat the process of drawing. Add doodads, color, and details.
Add another person to the prayer list. (And so on).
The most important thing to remember is that there is not any rules. You should follow the process where it leads you. And you will then create a personal prayer icon for you to carry with you throughout the day or days. You may even choose to post in someplace visible like your refrigerator! or you bathroom mirror. Or begin to enhance it further as days progress by adding words to focus your intentions.
If the words are distracting, put them away.
There you have it! Praying in Color – yet another way to access the deep love, mercy, and justice that resides within us all. You could easily do this and zip out names of people and zip in parts of the world worthy of deep concern … Syria, Kenya, Afghanistan…
TERRI STEWART is Into the Bardo’s Sunday chaplain, senior content editor, and site co-administrator. She comes from an eclectic background and considers herself to be grounded in contemplation and justice. She is the Director and Founder of the Youth Chaplaincy Coalition that serves youth affected by the justice system. As a graduate of Seattle University’s School of Theology and Ministry, she earned her Master’s of Divinity and a Post-Master’s Certificate in Spiritual Direction. She is a contributing author to the Abingdon Worship Annual. (The 2014 issue just released!)
A few weeks ago we posted a Facebook video about a raven asking people for aid. The raven had encountered a porcupine and had quills embedded in its face. A couple of weeks later, we returned from our time in Maine to discover a severely injured a crow (close cousin to the Raven) in our back yard. Neighbors informed us the crow had slowly, with great intent, worked its way from the woods to our yard.
The crow appeared to have a broken wing and was having difficulty standing. Upon closer inspection we discovered its foot was caught in a vine. The crow allowed me to release the trapped foot which appeared to help a little. We then offer the bird food and water, which it mostly ignored; it seemed to welcome a little gentle stroking. We then made phone calls. A former bird rehabilitator suggested we provide a box for shelter for the night as rain threatened. We then waited to hear from the crow specialist.
Yesterday morning the crow was still in our yard. Jennie took a neighbor’s advice and offered it some hard-boiled egg. The crow ate a very small portion. It seemed to be in pain so we talked over next steps, carefully weighing our options. Then the rehibilitator called; he could not make it to our house till evening, but suggested we place the crow in a cat carrier to keep it safe until he arrived. I carefully lifted the bird into the carrier and the crow fell on its side. We removed the bird briefly and placed some rags in the base of the carrier to offer some cushioning. When we returned the very large crow to the carrier we realized the bird, given the broken wing, was too large for it. We also realized the bird was not likely to survive, and after consulting the crow specialist, decided to take it to a vet to be put down.
I lifted it once more and placed it in a large recycling tub. As I was about to put the tub in the car, the crow looked me squarely in the eye, squawked loudly three times, and died. My strong impression was that the crow was expressing appreciation for our efforts, and probably chastising us a little for causing it pain. Anthropomorphizing? One had to be there.
We carefully buried the crow, performing ceremony for it. We had seen no other crows since our return, a strange absence given their frequenting of our yard and woods, and the presence of an injured member of the flock. We wondered whether the visiting crow had been ostracized by the flock. During the burial and ceremony I heard a solitary squawk from far away.
We were left with great sadness that we had, in our efforts to aid, caused the crow suffering, yet gratitude the crow had come to us. Today the sadness lingers. We are reminded of Crow’s large spirit, great intelligence and keen intent. We wish this crow a speedy and safe journey into the spirit world.
MICHAEL WATSON, M.A., Ph.D., LCMHC (Dreaming the World) ~ is a contributing editor to Into the Bardo, an essayist and a practitioner of the Shamanic arts, psychotherapist, educator and artist of Native American and European descent. He lives and works in Burlington, Vermont, where he teaches in undergraduate and graduate programs at Burlington College,. He was once Dean of Students there. Recently Michael has been teaching in India and Hong Kong. His experiences are documented on his blog. In childhood he had polio, an event that taught him much about challenge, struggle, isolation, and healing.
Editorial note and reminder: Next Wednesday, September 25, at 7 p.m. we will host a second writing challenge (Writer’s Fourth Wednesday) featuring Victoria C. Slotto, novelist and poet. The subject of next week’s challange is Literary Allusion. So writers read on, enjoy, write and mark your calendars for next week’s event. Mr Linky, which enables you to share your work with everyone, will remain open for seventy-two hours. Victoria will visit all participants to read and comment.
Here British poet, author and poetry teacher, Myra Schneider offers some thoughts on the possibilities and pitfalls of narrative poetry …
Myra Schneider
Narrative poetry is so different from lyrical that in many respects it is like another medium. A narrative poem needs to be structured as carefully as a novel and is likely to be less dense than a short poem yet it must still carry a sense of poetry, be more than condensed prose. What excites me most about this form is the chance to use voices very different from my own, to explore character, viewpoints and situations over a period of time. A narrative can express an idea in graphic action rather than in presenting it as an argument. Importantly, this medium can offer a route to writing about material which couldn’t be tackled in any other way.
Narrative poems are often rooted in difficult childhood and family experience. The great pitfall here is the danger of simply relating events as they happened intermixed with an outpouring of feelings. Releasing every detail of a painful memory on paper may be essential as a starting point but of course raw writing needs to be transformed to communicate to others. Selection, structuring and sometimes a measure of fictionalizing are necessary to convey the underlying truth to the reader. Widening the context beyond the narrator’s own reactions is likely to be a valuable contribution to the poem.
Donald Atkinson in his semi-autobiographical book-length A Sleep of Drowned Fathers and Kate Foley in her much shorter poem The Don’t Touch Garden have both written brilliant narratives with lively dialogue and sharp imagery showing different viewpoints in telescoped scenes which feature key moments or situations. Atkinson presents family life and traces his relationship with a violent and abusive father to a climactic incident when he is in his teens. His mother, who is trying to stand up for the children, calls him to help when her husband attacks her. The boy punches his father who collapses and it comes home to the reader that in reality the brutal man is very weak. The last sections show him as rich, isolated, sad and dying by accident in an appalling sex parlour. Yet what emerges is the narrator’s compassion and love for his father.
In The Don’t Touch Garden the narrator is an adopted child trying to make sense of the feeling that she didn’t fit with her mother. The climax of her story is the discovery of a bundle papers which reveal her identity. The adoptive mother is as much a focus as the child and there are graphic scenes which depict sympathetically the story of her background, marriage, and longing to have a child. Foley’s father, with whom she had a much easier relationship, is characterized in telling scenes. Important too is the wartime period in which the child grew up. There are very poignant moments in this many-stranded narrative which is told with wit, humour and economy.
The memory of childhood and relationships with parents can bring up such a welter of material it is difficult to find a route to a poetic narrative even though there is a strong urge to do so. This was my experience. I wanted to write about the way I was dominated by my father during my childhood and adult life and decided to create a fictional parallel with a main character whose life was very different life from mine. However, I couldn’t keep the fictional equivalent of my father under control. He ‘demanded’ sections in his voice which showed him behaving exactly as my father did. The result was he blotted out the daughter character and the poem didn’t develop properly. Discouraged after six months, I almost abandoned the poem but Mimi Khalvati gave me some encouraging feedback and I saw how to proceed. Looking back I realize I needed to write these ‘father scenes’ to clear an overwhelming anger out of my head. When I began again I confined the father to a few short scenes and fleshed out the narrative, widening the canvas with characters all of whom had difficulties to face in their lives. After about eighteen months the compressed novel Becoming found its shape.
Of course childhood and difficult personal relationships connected with it is only one source of personal subject matter for poems with a narrative element. Many poets (and non-poets) feel the need to write about the death of someone close and such poems often have a narrative drive. Understandably there is a desire to record every detail of a last illness but, as magazine editors and poetry judges are all too aware, writers often fall into the trap of offering a sad but drawn out story in which the material hasn’t been transformed.
Douglas Dunn’s moving book-length sequence, Elegies, about his wife Lesley’s illness and his own life after she died has a narrative thread but it is worth noting it barely touches on medical details and it doesn’t hammer out the harrowing day to day decline of his wife’s strength. What Dunn does is to make skilful shifts in chronology so that poems which recall incidents when Lesley was well are juxtaposed with graphic moments during the illness such as the couple looking at a hanging mobile of three seagulls made by a friend, the night before she died. These poems are sad yet celebratory and reveal the kind of person she was. The later part of the book traces the stages of grief and mourning which Dunn goes through as he re-lives events and finds ways of continuing to connect with his lost wife. Very controlled language and different kinds of strict form counterpoint the overwhelm of grief in this very moving sequence.
Many different kinds of personal material can trigger narrative poems. Gwyneth Lewis’s book-length Hospital Odysseywas inspired by her husband’s serious cancer illness and the frustration and fear she endured while he was undergoing treatment in an NHS hospital with all its inadequacies. Lewis turned the experience not into a painful account but a hugely inventive epic in nine books. She drew on the quest tradition, in particular Dante, but also created an extraordinary world in which matrons and consultants turn into creatures, diseases are personified, and microbes hold a manic ball. Maris, the heroine, is accompanied by two helpers rather as Dorothy was in the Wizard of Oz. Her search for her husband, Hardy, and for a way to find a cure that would save his life, takes her deeper and deeper into the underworld of hospital which perhaps is also a metaphor for the space in the human body. Lewis, following the literary tradition, sometimes addresses the reader and she is speaking for herself when she says the odyssey is one of healing that takes place in the head:
…….I won’t feel well
till this poem’s finished and I find what I mean
about health and loving. It’s a hospital,
this place I am constructing line by line.
There is satire and burlesque, as well as extremes of feeling in this complex and ambitious story. The whole, written in five line rhyming stanzas, is an extraordinary achievement and a wonderful illustration of how trauma can be transformed into a work of art which universalizes it.
Life experiences which have no direct connection with personal difficulties can also be the basis of narrative. I found it exciting to draw on my years of teaching disabled adults in writing Voicebox. The poem is entirely fiction but the trigger for the pivotal character, William, was a composite of clients I worked with, each of whom was wheelchair-bound and had speech problems. William, frustrated by his disabilities and his over-protective mother, is intelligent but antagonistic towards his mother, generally obstreperous and he lives mostly in fantasy. His outlet for self-expression is via his computer. Inventing him was liberating, great fun and extended my writing. Here is a brief excerpt from a poem he wrote after he’s seen a heron in a local park he went to with Katie, a neighbour and teacher, who’s taken an interest in him.
At middnight when the moon
berns whitely in the sky
William kreeps out to kiss his grilfrend
and heron snaps his beek at Mum
awders her to come to the park…
The thirty page poem is written in the voices of the four main characters, one of whom is Millie, William’s mother. All of them are in one sense or another finding their voices. I had already delved into this subject which has been an issue in my life. In Voicebox I found a new way to explore it.
Drawing on myth or fable also offers possibilities for narrative poems. In her book-length sequence, Meadowland, Louise Gluck harnessed the Odysseus story in a remarkable way. She interweaves poems in which Penelope, Telemachus (the son of Odysseus and Penelope) and Circe, in particular, put forward their own views. These offer a modern interpretation of the legend which connects with the story, also told in voice, of two contemporary un-named characters, whose marriage is falling apart. There is cutting humour as well as tenderness and pain in these poems which clearly reflect on personal experience. Gluck often draws on myth. In her book-length sequence Vita Nova, which has a strong sense of mourning, she turns to the Orpheus and Eurydice story. Classical stories, when used effectively as a base, heighten and universalize subject matter. Anne Cluysenaar makes the narrative of The Epic of Gilgamesh a frame for Clay, a long poem with different strands of reference including a strong meditative element.
I found re-telling the Orpheus story in contemporary terms and placing it in the London Underground offered surprising opportunities. With its many escalators, corridors and dark tunnels the Underground always fills me with a sense of drama and often seems to equate with Hades and other metaphorical underworlds. Details about the buskers, the dreadful suicides on the line, individuals I’d observed such as a thin pale girl with syringe marks all the way up her arm, gathered in my head. I pictured Eurydice following Orpheus up a long escalator before collapsing and envisaged him as a flute-playing busker who falls for a drug addict. Then I saw the drug pusher on whom Eurydice had been dependent, as the underworld king who would separate the couple. Other parallels suggested themselves. The myth seemed to strengthen my story and it allowed me to treat contemporary material I would not otherwise have dared to touch.
Historical characters and events can also be potent subject matter for narrative poems. It is crucial, however, in using this kind of material or classical stories that the poet brings something new to it. If there isn’t a re-interpretation or if the poet hasn’t found in the original material a driving point which gives the poem an illuminating focus the result is likely to be little more than a re-telling and will fail because it has no life of its own.
Elaine Feinstein was drawn to Lorenzo da Ponte, Mozart’s librettist, because she identified strongly with his sense of always being an outsider. His story was a strange one. The son of a poor Jewish tanner he was assimilated into European culture by the accident of family baptism and education, managed to move from a profligate life in Venice to the Emperor’s Court in Vienna and then, when out of favour, he made his way to New York. Amazed by his nerve and his ability to live on his wits as much as his talent, she conceived the narrative as a dramatic monologue, making da Ponte look back over his past with all its ironies at the point when he is living a humdrum life in America. The skilfully written poem, a salute to the librettist’s survival, points up the ironies of his ever-changing fortunes. It moves swiftly through his story but with graphic detail and the teller sometimes steps out of chronological order to make comments. The five line rhyming verses in iambics are a marvellous counterpoint to the subject matter. Form, of course, whether strict or free is as crucial in a narrative poem as any other.
Dilys Wood
Dilys Wood’s poem, The South Pole Inn, was triggered by a desire to write about early Antarctic exploration but she knew she must find an indirect approach to this well-documented subject. She hit on the idea of a dramatic narrative set in Ireland long after the main expeditions, intending to show the heroism of the men through the eyes of a woman. She chose Nell, wife of Tom Crean one of the participants, set the action in the Creans’ inn in Ireland and interwove the expedition material with references to the Irish troubles. She also invented a love-affair between Nell and Frank Worsley, another member of the expeditions, presenting him as a man who was more understanding of women than Tom. Combining fact and fiction was a challenge. There were others, in particular researching into the Irish Troubles and life in Western Ireland in the 1920s and later. She went to Ireland to see the South Pole Inn and the area round it. She also had to make sure the voices of its characters, were authentic. Nell was perceived as a capable woman frustrated by the way her husband sidelines her from ‘male’ action and as her story developed the theme of woman’s role became a major one. It was a tussle to control the plot and integrate the themes but after several drafts a remarkable poem emerged.
Carolyn Norton, a long narrative poem is included in this collection
Research, which is often essential when using known sources for a narrative poem, can also be a pitfall. It is all too easy to be carried away by fascinating information and include it without considering whether it is really relevant. Driven by anger that 150 years ago women were so powerless and that many women in the world still are, I wanted to write a poem about Caroline Norton. She was the first person in Victorian times to gain some rights for married woman and my intention was to highlight this as I felt she should be much better known. The problem was how to select details from her complicated life which would show how much she had to fight against and endure so that the reader would recognize the significance of her achievements. To do this, however carefully I selected, many facts needed to be included but the danger was the poem would read simply as an account. It was only when I hit upon the idea of a repeat with variations such as “What she did”, “What she didn’t do” to give a rhythm and act as a hook for selecting material, that I could begin.
In the last twenty years or so narrative poetry has reassumed its place as an important genre for some leading poets writing in English, including Derek Walcott and Les Murray. There isn’t space here to examine the wide canvasses of their epics, Omeros and Fredy Neptune. Omeros is set mainly in St. Lucia and Walcott weaves together fictional narratives based on the island’s present, past and his own experiences, creating some parallels with the Iliad. The island has played a crucial part in Walcott’s life and in this poem, among others, it features as a dominant character. I should mention that place often plays key role in narrative and this applies to several of the poems I’ve written about in this essay – Hospital Odyssey, for example. In Fredy Neptune Murray writes in an alter ego as a rough and ready Australian of German origin to produce a verse novel written as Fredy’s fantasy adventures. These take him to many parts of the world and incorporate the history of the period from the end of World War 1 to soon after the end of World War 2. Early in the story the shock of seeing Armenian women burnt to death by a mob makes him his lose his sense of touch, a condition which has metaphorical implications. In the later part of book he rescues a mentally disabled German boy. This strand of the story, which is haunting, was a way for Murray to write about his autistic son.
Omeros and Fredy Neptune are among the highest poetic achievements of our age. There are many pitfalls to be faced in writing poetic narrative but I hope I’ve shown the possibilities of the mode are unending.
Publications:
A Sleep of Drowned Fathers, Donald Atkinson, Peterloo 1989
Migrations, Anne Cluysenaar, Cinnamon Press 2011
Elegies, Douglas Dunn, Faber 1985
Gold, Elaine Feinstein, Carcanet 2000
Night & Other Animals, Kate Foley, The Green Lantern Press 2002
Meadowlands, Louise Gluck, Carcanet 1998; Vita Nova, Carcanet 2009
A Hospital Odyssey, Gwyneth Lewis, Bloodaxe 2010
Fredy Neptune, Les Murray, Carcanet 1998
Becoming, Myra Schneider 2007; Multiplying The Moon (Voicebox, Orpheus in the Underground), Enitharmon 2004, What Women Want, Second Light Publications 2012
Omeros, Derek Walcott, Faber 1990
Antarctica, Dilys Wood, Greendale Press 2008
The illustrations were not included in the original article and were added here by me. The portraits are the property of Myra Schneider and Dilys Wood and copyrighted. Book cover art is copyrighted and used here under fair use. J.D.
cc licensed flickr photo by OSU Special Collections
In Christian tradition, there is a story of Jesus walking down the street in a foreign town, a mother seeking healing for her daughter, and a strange and unique interplay between Rabbouni and a woman stepping outside of her traditional roles, demanding healing for her very ill daughter (Christian scripture, Mark 7:24-30).
In extra-biblical literature, the girl who needs healing is named Justa. Justa means “fair” or “upright.” Yep. Justice.
A friend and I were speaking about this story recently and we were remarking on one noticing in particular – Justa’s immediate needs were met, but what about her deepest desires? There is much to ponder here. When we see someone hungry, do we give them food? Possibly-some of us do. But do we take the time to discover their deepest desires? When do we slow down enough to notice with wide open eyes the deepest desires of the other? And then, instead of fixing or fulfilling those deepest desires, can we just become a container? A facilitator? How do we let Justa and her mother tell the story, have their immediate needs met, and discover their deepest desires?
So many questions!! The truth is, we can be slow enough, mindful enough, noticing enough to discover the deepest desires of the other. The truth is, so often we don’t. The truth is, when we can become a container of compassion and love, we will discover our own deepest desires.
Below is a poem I wrote for Justa in September, 2011. About 10 days before 9/11.
Justice
the daughter of
the discarded
canaanite woman
was named justice.
when justice lay on her
bed half crazed from
demons or schizophrenia
or whatever unnamed
disorder that bedeviled
her she was all that was
wrong with the world.
a separation of the haves
and have-nots. those who
have access to healthcare
healers and those who
must die alone and destitute.
justice reached
and crossed boundaries.
her spirit floated through
the wooded path alongside
her mother as they desperately
sought the one who could heal
and put her fractured
psyche back together.
justice became a jumble
of screams as
nails on a chalkboard
incessant bees buzzing
sulphur burning
and constant drip-drip-dripping
clamored intently intensely
inside her skull.
time was running out.
her mother ran
searching and seeking
tree limbs slapping her
in the face as she sprinted
through the wilderness
seeking out anyone who
would promise healing
encountering charlatans
and just the misunderstood
and even those that would
send her away. calling her
a dog.
not worthy of healing.
she wasn’t one of them.
finally, she sees the one
some call love walking down
the street.
mother screams out as
pain is ripped from her
heart like a bandage from
a fresh wound seeking
hope once again for
justice and knowing that
the hopeless seems so
much stronger.
love keeps on walking.
once more
mother bares her
psyche screaming hope
with barely a glimmer
on the horizon like candle
snuffers putting out all
the stars that exist.
except this
last
one.
finally
mother is heard and justice
is walking with her heart
receiving confirmation
of the great hope mother
always knew was there.
somewhere.
deep within.
a great symphony sprouted
in the heart of justice
with melody sung by
a white-throated sparrow
and harmony enchanted
by love.
REV. TERRI STEWART is Into the Bardo’s Sunday chaplain, senior content editor, and site co-administrator. She comes from an eclectic background and considers herself to be grounded in contemplation and justice. She is the Director and Founder of the Youth Chaplaincy Coalition that serves youth affected by the justice system. As a graduate of Seattle University’s School of Theology and Ministry, she earned her Master’s of Divinity and a Post-Master’s Certificate in Spiritual Direction. She is a contributing author to the Abingdon Worship Annual. (The 2014 issue just released!)
Saturday, September 7, 2013, was a call for worldwide prayer and fasting to focus on peace in Syria. I have seen many things happening–prayer vigils, personal meditation practices, marches, and communications with elected officials. We decided to offer a Labyrinth Walk for Peace at Bothell UMC in Bothell, WA in the morning. I gathered inter-faith prayers, we walked, prayed, and focused on bringing peace to the world. What follows is prayers and photos from that journey that became deeply personal for each attendant. There was a certain transition that occurred for me as I took in my surroundings and noticed Farmer Brown’s Garden. I began to see, literally, a connection between peacefulness and being fed. You will see.
Entering Sacred Space
Sufi Prayer for Peace
Send Thy peace, O Lord, which is perfect and everlasting, that our souls may radiate peace. Send Thy peace, O Lord, that we may think, act, and speak harmoniously. Send Thy peace, O Lord, that we may be contented and thankful for Thy bountiful gifts. Send Thy peace, O Lord, that amidst our worldly strife we may enjoy thy bliss. Send Thy peace, O Lord, that we may endure all, tolerate all in the thought of thy grace and mercy. Send Thy peace, O Lord, that our lives may become a divine vision, and in Thy light all darkness may vanish. Send Thy peace, O Lord, our Father and Mother, that we Thy children on earth may all unite in one family. – Sufi Prayer
The Journey Begins
An Islamic Prayer for Peace
In the Name of Allah, the beneficent, the merciful: Praise be to the Lord of the Universe who has created us and made us into tribes and nations that we may know each other, not that we may despise each other.
If the enemy incline towards peace, do thou also incline towards peace, and trust in God, for the Lord is one that hears and knows all things. And the servants of God Most Gracious are those who walk on the Earth in humility, and when we address them, we say, “Peace.” – U.N. Day of Prayer for World Peace 2
Walking Together in Ubuntu
A Hindu Prayer for Peace
Supreme Lord, let there be peace in the sky and in the atmosphere. Let there be peace in the plant world and in the forests. Let the cosmic powers be peaceful. Let the Brahman, the true essence and source of life, be peaceful. Let there be undiluted and fulfilling peace everywhere. – The Atharva Veda
All Are Invited to Be Fed
Cheyenne Prayer for Peace
Let us know peace. For as long as the moon shall rise, For as long as the rivers shall flow, For as long as the sun shall shine, For as long as the grass shall grow, Let us know peace. – Cheyenne Prayer
Feeding the World in Spirit and Deed Farmer Brown’s Garden at Bothell UMC
A Jewish Prayer for Peace
Grant us peace. Your most precious gift, O Eternal Source of Peace, and give us the will to proclaim its message to all the peoples of the earth. Bless our country, that it may always be a stronghold of peace, and its advocate among the nations. May contentment reign within its borders, health and happiness within its homes. Strengthen the bonds of friendship among the inhabitants of all lands. And may the love of Your name hallow every home and every heart. Blessed is the Eternal God, the source of Peace. – From The Gates of Prayer: The New Union Prayer Book, by the Central Conferences of American Rabbis
Growing Spiritually and Growing Food
Buddhist Prayer for Loving Kindness
May all beings be peaceful. May all beings be happy. May all beings be safe. May all beings awaken to the light of their true nature. May all beings be free. – Metta Prayer
Loving Kindness through Loving Care
A Christian Prayer for Peace
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God. But I say to you that hear, love your enemies; do good to those who hate you; bless those who curse you; pray for those who abuse you. To those who strike you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from those who take away your cloak, do not withhold your coat as well. Give to everyone who begs from you, and of those who take away your goods, do not ask them again. And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them. – U.N. Day of Prayer for World Peace 2
Becoming the Light Unto the World
A Non Traditional Prayer for World Peace
Spirit of Life and Love, be present with all who are suffering terribly from violence. Lift up the hearts of those who fear. And inspire courage among the peacemakers. Be present with political leaders, ensuring a retreat from violence and a procession towards the peace table. Guide the hands of all those who are caring for the injured, the hungry and the grieving. And, open our own hearts to compassion. Remind us of our complicity and responsibility. And lead us towards generous engagement—always towards a vision of peace. –Adapted from the Unitarian Universalist Tradition
REV. TERRI STEWART is Into the Bardo’s Sunday chaplain, senior content editor, and site co-administrator. She comes from an eclectic background and considers herself to be grounded in contemplation and justice. She is the Director and Founder of the Youth Chaplaincy Coalition that serves youth affected by the justice system. As a graduate of Seattle University’s School of Theology and Ministry, she earned her Master’s of Divinity and a Post-Master’s Certificate in Spiritual Direction. She is a contributing author to the Abingdon Worship Annual. (The 2014 issue just released!)
Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rumi (1207-1273), Persian poet, jurist and theologian, and Sufi mystic
I’m trying to follow the theme of an essay, which I wrote for Into the Bardo, “Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat (Fortune Favours The Bold)”, which was published here at the beginning of August. It was a deeply thoughtful piece that probably comes from my own anxieties at the state of the world. In consequence, it became an overly long and involved treatise, in which I tried to encapsulate my understanding of what needs to happen to rescue the human race from itself.
An impossible dream, you might say, and you could be right. However, a couple of weeks after publishing it, I stumbled upon something that struck me between the eyes! It was an eight hundred year old poem, which felt as if it were a personal message from somewhere unknown! Also, another article that was posted here on Into The Bardo, last Saturday,A Biassed Mind Cannot Grasp Reality: A Message from the Dalai Lama, (Excerpts from His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s address to the inter-faith seminar organised by the International Association for Religious Freedom, Ladakh Group, in Leh on 25 August), spoke of how human ‘agitation’ was the cause of many of our woes. This was a particularly enlightening read; I recommend it to you highly.
The first three verses of this poem, appeared from Rumi’s Facebook page and struck me in a number of ways, not least of all because it represents a special milestone in the recognition of so much that I believe about the human condition, which is to recognise our own individuality, our own convictions and that, I would argue, we should take responsibility for our own actions. I had, therefore to seek out its source and find the rest of the poem, written by that much revered Thirteenth Century Persian poet, jurist, theologian and Sufi mystic, Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī.
“Everything you see has its roots in the unseen world” – isn’t this the space between our ears?
“Why do you weep? The source is within you” – ditto
I have, for a long time, recognised that, whilst we may cover ourselves with a veneer of sophistication, we cannot hide from the frailty of our very human condition. The Industrial Revolution, the engineering and technology, which has resulted over the following two hundred and fifty years, may have produced some remarkable examples of our ingenuity, but the problems of the world that remain, which are, for the most part, of our own making, are the same in essence as they were when this poem was written nearly eight hundred years ago, when humans were still humans, but without the technology. It seems a strange irony that this could be a sign that our resultant wealth, which is far more widely distributed than it was eight hundred years ago, has blurred our vision of life’s purpose, whilst at the same time (certainly in the case of this post) aided it, with computer technology.
When we’ve learned this lesson, when we’ve learned, not just how to recognise this fact, but how to respond to it, to imbue the young minds of future generations with the knowledge that they need to discover how they are going to embrace all cultures, all religions and all manner of human personalities (because we adults have not made a great job of it so far and are clearly not entirely capable of teaching them) then, and only then, will we be truly able to move on as a race … and awaken to that much vaunted new dawn, that enlightenment.
I give you the words of one, who probably knew much more and was more qualified than most of us living today to understand the human condition …
A Garden Beyond Paradise
Everything you see has its roots
in the unseen world.
The forms may change,
yet the essence remains the same.
Every wondrous sight will vanish,
every sweet word will fade.
But do not be disheartened,
The Source they come from is eternal—
growing, branching out,
giving new life and new joy.
Why do you weep?—
That Source is within you,
and this whole world
is springing up from it.
The Source is full,
its waters are ever-flowing;
Do not grieve,
drink your fill!
Don’t think it will ever run dry—
This is the endless Ocean!
From the moment you came into this world,
a ladder was placed in front of you
that you might transcend it.
From earth, you became plant,
from plant you became animal.
Afterwards you became a human being,
endowed with knowledge, intellect and faith.
Behold the body, born of dust—
how perfect it has become!
Why should you fear its end?
When were you ever made less by dying?
When you pass beyond this human form,
no doubt you will become an angel
and soar through the heavens!
But don’t stop there.
Even heavenly bodies grow old.
Pass again from the heavenly realm
and plunge into the ocean of Consciousness.
Let the drop of water that is you
become a hundred mighty seas.
But do not think that the drop alone
becomes the Ocean—
the Ocean, too, becomes the drop!
JOHN ANSTIE (My Poetry Library and 42) ~ is a British poet and writer, a contributing editor here at Bardo, and multi-talented gentleman self-described as a “Family man, Grandfather, Oc casional Musician, Amateur photographer and Film-maker, Apple-MAC user, Implementation Manager, and Engineer. John participates in d’Verse Poet’s Pub and is a player in New World Creative Union. He’s been blogging since the beginning of 2011. John is also an active member of The Poetry Society (UK).
John has been involved in the recent publication of two anthologies that are the result of online collaborations among two international groups of amateur and professional poets. One of these is The Grass Roots Poetry Group, for which he produced and edited their anthology, “Petrichor* Rising“. The other group is d’Verse Poet Pub, in which John’s poetry also appears The d’Verse Anthology: Voices of Contemporary World Poetry, produced and edited by Frank Watson.
* Petrichor – from the Greek pɛtrɨkər, the scent of rain on the dry earth.
Last night we went to the synagogue for a healing service and to recite selichot in preparation for Rosh Hashanah. During the service one of the Rabbis told a story about the Seer of Lublin, a Hasidic Master who lived from 1745 to 1815.
Briefly the tale is this. A Hasid travels some distance to see The Seer who looks at him and tells him that since he (the visitor) is to die that night, he should go to a hotel in a nearby village to do so. The Seer explains that as it is the Sabbath a dead body in his house would create enormous problems. The man dutifully sets off for the village, only to meet a cart filled with Hasidim on their way into Lublin to spend the Sabbath with The Seer. They ask him why he is going in the WRONG DIRECTION, and he explains that the Rabbi has sent him away to die. The Hasidim respond that if he is to die he should certainly come with them so as not to die alone. He climbs into the cart and they set off for the city. Soon the men ask our tired journeyer, seeing as he obviously has money, to buy spirits to keep them happy and warm on the trip. He complies and soon all are happily singing and swapping tales. As they travel towards the city our Hasid is heaped with praise, blessings, and hopes for a long a prosperous life. When finally the crew arrives back at the Rabbi’s house, the Rabbi looks at our traveler and says, “Oh, you are indeed lucky. The blessings of your fellows have warded off Death.” It is said the man lived well for several more years.
Having told the tale, the Rabbi spoke to the power of blessing. She assured us she was not convinced blessing another has power in itself, and express concern about magical thinking. She was more certain that gathering in community opens the door to healing. She also spoke about what she saw as shamanic elements in the story. I have long considered the best Hasidic Rebbes to be shamans. Indeed, in many texts The Seer is portrayed as a great shaman, as are many of the best Hasidic Rebbes. After all, he can see the future, determine whether something is fated, and utilize whatever wiggle room is available to aid the members of his extended community to a different fate.
Today I’ve been thinking about the story, as well as the service. It seems to me The Seer saw a way to awaken the Wise Healer within the traveler. Perhaps he knew the man would meet fellow Hasids on their way into town, as The Seer’s congregation was far-flung, yet united in the task of reaching the Rabbi’s home before darkness and the beginning of the Sabbath. Maybe he felt secure in the likelihood his congregants would never let a fellow Hasid die alone. Maybe he, like the founder of Hasidism, The Baal Shen Tov, could, through the good graces of All That Is, intervene directly in the man’s fate. We do not know, and that, too, is part of the mystery and the story.
So this evening we begin the Jewish High Holy Days, the time of remembrance, atonement, and forgiveness, a time we are invited to thoughtfully consider our individual and communal lives. Although I am not Jewish, the rest of our household is, and over the years this time of year has become dear to me. Like the Rabbi I, too, have doubts about magical thinking. Yet, I also believe in the power of compassion, prayer, and joy to awaken the Healer Within persons and communities. Luckily, we have these stories, arising from many traditions, to remind us of our connection to the Creator, one another, and the larger world.
MICHAEL WATSON, M.A., Ph.D., LCMHC (Dreaming the World) ~ is a contributing editor to Into the Bardo, an essayist and a practitioner of the Shamanic arts, psychotherapist, educator and artist of Native American and European descent. He lives and works in Burlington, Vermont, where he teaches in undergraduate and graduate programs at Burlington College,. He was once Dean of Students there. Recently Michael has been teaching in India and Hong Kong. His experiences are documented on his blog. In childhood he had polio, an event that taught him much about challenge, struggle, isolation, and healing.
I saw a bonsai tree earlier. Exquisitely arranged, perfect in its appearance. I admired it in awe, and then a thought crossed my mind and I couldn’t get rid of it: what exactly was it that I admired in a mutilated tree? The art of “educating” a plant to grow according to our own will? The way the small tree manages to “forget” about the cutting and the clumping and the trimming and the wiring and the all-together contortionism to which it is subjected, and simply grows?
What is the real beauty of a bonsai? Does it reside in the smallness? But smallness is relative – related to our own size. Do we create bonsais in order for them to make us feel bigger? An identical tree, though bigger than us, would be smaller than a mountain. But then again, an identical though bigger tree wouldn’t appear just as beautiful in different circumstances. We’d look at it with pity and say “poor tree, so twisted”, without realizing that the twisted one is our own view.
So, is it actually about the circumstances in which we look at it? Do we actually love the hidden wisdom of nature, letting us believe that we subdued it and forced it into shape, when in fact nature simply followed its course, surviving the circumstances? Is that what impresses? Or maybe the apparent resignation and submission of the tree under our touch?
Does the bonsai feel the awe in the eyes of his beholders? Does that comfort it in any way? Does our admiration in front of it MATTER? Or maybe what we actually do is subconsciously enjoy the tacit guilt spicing our admiration – a milder form of sadism under the pretext of art and beauty, excusing the cruelty. At this point at least half of you, dear readers, will protest and talk to me about the secular tradition of bonsai aesthetics and say that it’s not a proof of cruelty. Is it now? *smiling* Foot binding in China used to also be done under the pretext of beauty. How interestingly simple is actually the human essence…
But let me not divagate.
I liked the sight of that little bonsai. I sipped its beauty with all my strength and loved it and assumed the guilt for loving it – with awareness, with humility and shame. That bonsai bears the mark of human artistry – and maybe that is the “lesson” after all.
LILIANA NEGOI (Endless Journey and in Romaniancurcubee în alb şi negru) began to write poetry at eighteen – by accident – as she herself likes to remember, and has been exploring the depths of language ever since. Currently she is the author of three published volumes of poetry in English – which is not her mother tongue but one that she came to love especially because of writing: Sands and Shadows,Footsteps on the San – tanka collection and The Hidden Well. The last one can also be heard in audio version, read by the author herself on her SoundCloud site HERE. Many of her creations, both poetry and prose, have been published in various literary magazines.
I originally published this on my blog at cloakedmonk.com. I am reposting it here for a couple reasons – prayer is a great spiritual practice, whatever your understanding of prayer is. And I am at a conference called “Church Quake” in the DC area. It is a conference to aid United Methodist folks in helping to bring full inclusion to the church. Our theme has been “intersectionality.” What intersection of our understanding can come to the aid of an oppressed groups? We are related and interdependent as the prayer below says-we can see that when we consider our own woundedness and how we bring it to the altar of healing. Then what do we do? Consider the woundedness of others and help them find their way to healing. And so the pattern continues. Wounded becoming healing.
Henry Nouwen articulated the concept of the wounded healer quite well. Let me just share a quote from this Roman Catholic, PhD Psychologist, Theology teaching at Yale Divinity, depression suffering, book-writing, L’arche community loving, priest.
“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”
― Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Road to Daybreak: A Spiritual Journey
Here, in this prayer, I find the intersectionality of flowers, interdependence, loving one another, an altar for all, and the healing of woundedness for the inclusion of all who are diverse and unique – precious and beautiful flowers.
In the presence of these flowers,
These representatives of Creation’s profound beauty:
Diverse and Unique, but Related and Interdependent,
These flowers which come to us as gifts from we know not where
And which we, in turn, choose to bring to our shared and common altar
As gifts to one another
In their presence we turn our thoughts to the mystery beyond mysteries
to the most sacred—which we never understand fully
but which we are granted revelatory glimpses of
in each of these flowers,
in each of your faces,
and through relationships with neighbors near and far
May they remind us of grace we have known in days past:
Forgiveness we have been granted, and provided.
Love, unearned and shared.
Recovery, begun and established.
Generosity, unforeseen and most sacred.
And may they inspire us now, and in days to come:
To seek,
To notice,
To embrace and,
To re-create beauty.
To give unto the world as exuberantly as these flowers.
REV. TERRI STEWART is Into the Bardo’s Sunday chaplain, senior content editor, and site co-administrator. She comes from an eclectic background and considers herself to be grounded in contemplation and justice. She is the Director and Founder of the Youth Chaplaincy Coalition that serves youth affected by the justice system. As a graduate of Seattle University’s School of Theology and Ministry, she earned her Master’s of Divinity and a Post-Master’s Certificate in Spiritual Direction. She is a contributing author to the Abingdon Worship Annual. (The 2014 issue just released!)
Excerpts from His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s address to the inter-faith seminar organised by the International Association for Religious Freedom, Ladakh Group, in Leh on 25 August.
We are now in the twenty first century. The quality of research on both the inner and physical world has reached quite high levels, thanks to the tremendous stride in technological advancement and human intelligence. However, as some of the speakers said before, the world is also facing a lot of new problems, most of which are man-made. The root cause of these man-made problems is the inability of human beings to control their agitated minds. How to control such a state of mind is taught by the various religions of this world.” MORE
Photograph taken by an employee of the Executive Office of the President of the United States and as a work of the U.S. federal government it is in the public domain.
I was reading about John Cage today and his famous piece, 4’33”. As you may know, that is a composition conceived in 1952, meant for any instrument (or combination of instruments), and the score instructs the performer(s) to not play the instrument(s) during the entire duration of the piece, which is meant to consist of the sounds of the environment that the listeners hear while it is performed, although it is commonly perceived as “four minutes thirty-three seconds of silence”.
The reason why I was reading that is less important, the irony was that there was an awful amount of noise around me while I was plunging into Cage’s reasons to write a piece about silence. Now, precisely at the time when I was sort of praying for a miracle that would stop all that noise, my eyes fell on the fragment quoted below:
“In 1951, Cage visited the anechoic chamber at Harvard University. An anechoic chamber is a room designed in such a way that the walls, ceiling and floor absorb all sounds made in the room, rather than reflecting them as echoes. Such a chamber is also externally sound-proofed. Cage entered the chamber expecting to hear silence, but he wrote later, ‘I heard two sounds, one high and one low. When I described them to the engineer in charge, he informed me that the high one was my nervous system in operation, the low one my blood in circulation.’ Cage had gone to a place where he expected total silence, and yet heard sound. ‘Until I die there will be sounds. And they will continue following my death. One need not fear about the future of music.’ The realisation as he saw it of the impossibility of silence led to the composition of 4′33″.”
And lo! While I was reading that, the huge noise around me stopped, and I was able to hear the music of my neurons, chewing on the relative silence suddenly fallen upon my surroundings . Quite a poetic coincidence, if I may add.
But coming back to the point, what people grew to call as “silence” is merely the absence of sounds. An absence otherwise relative, as demonstrated by the quote above – for our own body always plays its own music, above the absolute state of silence. Sometimes we like it, sometimes we don’t, simply because silence, like all things, is sometimes necessary, and other times it should be replaced by something else. There can be silence in the middle of the storm, as well as it can lack in the middle of some anechoic chamber. What matters most is not the physical silence that we experience, but the mental one, when the mind comes to that state of silence called peace – because that is when we actually “hear” our soul.
LILIANA NEGOI (Endless Journey and in Romaniancurcubee în alb şi negru) began to write poetry at eighteen – by accident – as she herself likes to remember, and has been exploring the depths of language ever since. Currently she is the author of three published volumes of poetry in English – which is not her mother tongue but one that she came to love especially because of writing: Sands and Shadows,Footstep on the San – tanka collection and The Hidden Well. The last one can also be heard in audio version, read by the author herself on her SoundCloud site HERE. Many of her creations, both poetry and prose, have been published in various literary magazines.
A while back, I attended a writer’s conference session about character development. The speaker suggested using astrological signs as a means to create believable, consistent characters. My knowledge of astrology is scant, but I tried to apply it to the characters in my first novel, Winter is Past. The results weren’t what I’d hoped for.
When I worked in the area of nursing education, human resources and spirituality, I had the opportunity to delve into Myers-Briggs…a personality evaluation tool that assesses behavior based on four areas of response: Introversion versus extraversion, Intuitive versus sensate, Thinking versus Feeling and Perceptive versus Judgmental. The latter may not be so self-explanatory but I use the example of my parents: my dad would be ready to go somewhere 20 minutes ahead of time, while my mother would change her mind a few more times about what she wanted to wear. Think: structured versus easy-going.
I returned to my draft manuscript, and applied the Myers-Briggs, using this tool to help me re-create the major characters with the result of more consistent, believable players. For my second novel The Sin of His Father, I wrote out character profiles before I even began to write, again using the Myers-Briggs. It has made it so much easier.
Photo Credit: vivalamanosphere.com
There is an old book called Please Understand Me that explains all the possible profile combinations and how they play out in real life. If you can find it, it’s been a godsend.
I’m addicted to The Learning Company‘s Great Courses, university level programs presented by the highest quality professors. One of the courses, The Art of Reading is taught by Professor Timothy Spurgin of Lawrence University. The lectures are well-organized, clearly presented and as applicable to writers as to readers.
An important point from the lecture on characters addresses developing round characters. The concept of a round character, as opposed to a flat one, was presented by E. M. Forster in his book, Aspects of the Novel. Simply put, a round character is one who will capture the reader’s interest because of his unpredictability, his complexity and the changes he undergoes during the course of the story. And this is key: “The test of a round character is whether it is capable of surprising in a convincing way.” (Forster)
While a protagonist needs to draw the sympathy of the reader, he should have some character flaws. Inversely, your antagonist should have something that makes him, if not attractive, at least capable of being understood. Just like us–no one is all good or all bad.
As you write, reflect upon your own reaction to the key characters in your manuscript. Are you able to identify with them to some degree? Are there things that, if you were that person, you might be ashamed of or want to change? Are there events or reactions which are surprising without being totally out-of-character (unconvincing)? Is your character someone you would want to know, or avoid?
One thing I find helpful when writing fiction is to base my characters on a composite of people I know or with whom I have been acquainted. You can even take someone who is in the public eye. I try not to use one person because I would never want anyone to say to me, “That’s me, isn’t it?” My mother once thought a character was her because I set a scene in a room in her house! And this secondary character was not, initially, a nice person.
I hope this brief reflection on characters will be helpful to those of you who have an interest in writing fiction. In a future post, I’ll share a character development worksheet that I prepared for a character in novel #2 to give you something to hang your words on!
We’d like to invite you to share a brief paragraph or poem of your own presenting a character you’ve created or known somewhere along the road. There are two ways you can do it:
Preferably, post your description on your own blog or website, then copy and paste the direct URL into the Mr. Linky, which is included at below at the end of this post. He will also ask you to include your name or another identifier.
If you prefer, add your character sketch to the comments section.
It’s nice, though not required to read others and leave a like or comment. I will visit all of them.
Happy writing; enjoy the process!
– Victoria
EDITOR’S NOTE: Mr. Linky is below Victoria’s bio ~
Victoria at the Palm Springs Writer’s Expo March 2012
Continuing along the theme of sacred space, I would like to offer a method of creating sacred group space-especially in places of conflict or tension. Previous posts on sacred space are on the personal labyrinth and personal prayer patterns styled upon praying with beads.
Creating Sacred Group Space
Have you ever been in a situation where you needed to facilitate group sharing (or participate in) around a sticky topic or situation? It is really difficult to get people to move beyond finger pointing, conflict, and blaming. Eric Law developed a method that facilitates sharing in a sticky environment that offers mutual respect and honor to the participants. It is commonly called Eric Law’s Method of Mutual Invitation. I love using it!
Rev. Eric H. F. Law (c) California-Pacific Conference of the UMC
One of the problems with most decision making settings is that a decision must be made! That necessitates a winner and a loser. It is rarely a win/win situation. Most often if one person wins, there is another person who loses or gives in. Eric Law’s Method of Mutual Invitation is not a decision making process, it is a listening process that can lead to deeper points and through long and hard work, lead to a consensus building model where every voice is heard and honored. It is at once simple and profound.
The Method
Mutual Invitation is a small group process designed to allow for inclusion and disciplined sharing in diverse settings, especially where there might be a variety of ages, ethnic backgrounds, different beliefs, or personality types present. The process allows for each person in the group to have an opportunity to share, as well as to participate in group dynamics. The process of Mutual Invitation can be adapted for different settings and purposes, e.g. family meal time, small group sharing, and office meetings.
Someone begins the sharing, related to the chosen topic.
The facilitator will set a time limit for each person.
No questions, responses, or interruptions are allowed during the process.
After the sharing there is a brief pause to allow the others to reflect upon what has been shared.
Responding begins after the pause. The pause should be stretched to a couple of minutes or longer if possible.
Responding is done by asking open ended questions designed to allow the person sharing to examine further her experience.
In a group sharing session, the person who is sharing invites the next person after others have responded to him/her.
Avoid inviting the person sitting next to you. This avoids the tendency to “go around in a circle.”
The goal of mutual invitation is to randomly invite the next person. This random invitation prevents distractions such as anticipating or worrying about what to share. Random invitation also helps keeps the focus on the person sharing.
The invited person may choose to share, to pass for now, or to pass.
Pass for now means she/he can share later when re-invited.
Pass indicates that she/he does not choose to share during this session.
Regardless of what the person chooses, she/he always invites the next person.
The process is repeated until everyone in the group has been invited. And every person has either responded or finished with a final pass.
Pattern sample:
Facilitator states the question being pondered and offers their own response.
Then silence is held for a couple minutes.
The group then asks questions-they must be either clarifying questions or open-ended questions. One person at a time.
The facilitator responds to questions as they come.
At the end of the questions, silence is held for a couple of minutes.
The facilitator invites the next person to share.
The next person responds with either their own sharing, a pass, or a pass for now.
Then silence is held for a couple of minutes.
The group then asks questions-they must be either clarifying questions or open-ended questions. One person at a time.
That person responds to questions as they come.
At the end of the questions, silence is held for a couple of minutes.
That person invites the next person to share.
And so on, until all have shared or responded with a final pass.
This sharing methodology, as simple as it is, has opened up sacred space. I love using it! Especially when confronted with sticky situations and group conflict. It keeps things calm, peaceful, and invites a sacred and healing quality to the space. You could even use it in a study environment! Imagine opening up a text and sharing responses in a group in this sacred, invitational manner! Beautiful.
The most profound time I have ever used this method involved a group in conflict. It was a group coming together after a major loss all with different ideas of how to move forward and very few ideas of how to sit in the loss. We used this method and brought out people’s fears, hopes, sorrows, and even some joys. It became a place of healing rather than a cantankerous committee meeting. It forced us to be still and to hold each other loosely and gently. Creating sacred space.
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A bit about Rev. Eric Law: He is an Episcopalian priest, is the founder and executive director of the Kaleidoscope Institute, the mission of which is to create inclusive and sustainable churches and communities. He has been writing and practicing for more than 20 years. He can be found online at The Sustainist.
REV. TERRI STEWART is Into the Bardo’s Sunday chaplain, senior content editor, and site co-administrator. She comes from an eclectic background and considers herself to be grounded in contemplation and justice. She is the Director and Founder of the Youth Chaplaincy Coalition that serves youth affected by the justice system. As a graduate of Seattle University’s School of Theology and Ministry, she earned her Master’s of Divinity and a Post-Master’s Certificate in Spiritual Direction. She is a contributing author to the Abingdon Worship Annual. (The 2014 issue just released!)
Archetypal Gothic Lady of Sorrows from a triptych by the Master of the Stauffenberg Altarpiece, Alsace c. 1455
I had written a poem for Mothering Sunday, or Mother’s Day as it is commercially known, which was a few months ago, now. However, I somehow felt it an appropriate story to raise here on Into The Bardo. This is because of the meaning I understand the word ‘Bardo’ has; that is to say a ‘transitional state’ that the Stabat Mater must have entered whilst having to process the extreme emotions provoked by such a harrowing experience, perhaps not the transitional state intended by Buddhist groups, who conceived of this condition, but a transitional state that will, more likely, have provided a protective blanket to help her through the pain.
The poem A Ballad for Stabat Mater struck me on several levels. I had already previously written a poem for my son’s thirtieth birthday (The Fourth Age of Man), basing it on William Shakespeare’s Seven Ages of Man (a monologue, which he wrote to open his play, “As You Like It”). Incidentally, I found it particularly poignant to note that my son had almost reached the same age as Jesus Christ was alleged to be, when his own mortal life ended. So, the latter never had the chance to taste the next three ages; or, perhaps, he lived all seven in that short span of life?
This poem, written in the form of a ballad, was, once again, influenced by Shakespeare’s “Seven Ages of Man”, but this time includes all seven ages. Also, it was, perhaps not surprisingly, heavily influenced by the Stabat Mater, that unforgettable and extraordinarily moving image of this religious icon, Mary, the mother of all mothers, as she stood and watched her own son die, painfully. Stabat mater dolorosa, meaning the sorrowful mother stood, is a masterful understatement. How many mothers could submit themselves to such unbelievable pain! And yet all mothers do, albeit mostly to a lesser extreme, for as long as they live.
I salute all mothers, however good or bad a mother you may think you are, you have still had to suffer for your children.
JOHN ANSTIE (My Poetry Library and 42) ~ is a British poet and writer, a contributing editor here at Bardo, and multi-talented gentleman self-described as a “Family man, Grandfather, Oc casional Musician, Amateur photographer and Film-maker, Apple-MAC user, Implementation Manager, and Engineer. John participates in d’Verse Poet’s Pub and is a player in New World Creative Union. He’s been blogging since the beginning of 2011. John is also an active member of The Poetry Society (UK).
John has been involved in the recent publication of two anthologies that are the result of online collaborations among two international groups of amateur and professional poets. One of these is The Grass Roots Poetry Group, for which he produced and edited their anthology, “Petrichor* Rising“. The other group is d’Verse Poet Pub, in which John’s poetry also appears The d’Verse Anthology: Voices of Contemporary World Poetry, produced and edited by Frank Watson.
* Petrichor – from the Greek pɛtrɨkər, the scent of rain on the dry earth.
the work of Shakti Ghosal, posted again due to its popularity
Fluidity and discontinuity are central to the reality in which we live. (1990), Mary Catherine Bateson(b. 1939), American writer and cultural anthropologist
The other day, I sat leafing through the yellowing pages of that half a century old Peter Drucker classic, ‘The Age of Discontinuity’. This book never ceases to amaze me at the prescient feeling it can generate even after so many decades. Drucker of course could not have envisioned the internet and today’s information flows but his book does ask the question, “As technology becomes ubiquitous, how would we need to cope?” He also challenged us “to be prepared for the complexities”. Big discontinuities that he saw so many years back……. as yet unresolved.
Since the dawn of history, Mankind has experienced discontinuities brought in by adoption of learnt skills and technology. As the first human learnt how to seed and grow plants, Mankind did a makeover from a wandering lifestyle to that of settlers on land. Then with the successive arrivals of the steam engine and electricity, the agrarian lifestyle started morphing into industrial clusters and an associated urban way of life.
And so has been the cycle. A periodic massive disruption of the way we live, the way we work, the way we trade, all leading to a discontinuity. But always, Mankind returned back to stability. Adjusting back into the equilibrium of a new socio-economic format, till the next bout of discontinuity.
But methinks we now have reached a different arena. A space and time where technologies are no longer stabilizing. If at all, they seem to be changing at a faster and faster pace. One needs to just see what is happening to computing, information and communication to appreciate this.
As I reflect, I am left wondering if we are facing the mother of all discontinuities, a shift to a world without stability. A world in which extreme social and economic disruptions become the norm. Be it the ongoing financial turmoil in the global markets. Be it increasing volatility in commodity prices. Be it companies losing out their leadership positions at an increasing rate. Be it product life cycles becoming shorter and shorter. I wonder if these indeed be the symptoms of a world becoming increasingly unstable.
So how do we, the individuals, cope with such constant discontinuities and loss of stability? Wired as we are to cherish stability and continuity in life, how do we retain our balance and sanity?
I think of the Chinese concept of Shi. Simply put it signifies a propensity based on situation. So whenever there is the propensity to play out to an extreme, there also occurs the tendency to self correct and reverse course. And herein lies the magic of Shi- embodying the spirit of dancing in the moment.
Shi is a belief. It promotes lightness and a dynamic view of our world. In Shi, everything is in a state of becoming. So as we focus on the flows and the lightness of the moment, we lose our obsession with discrete people, objects or situations. Shi allows a holistic appreciation of the complex webs of relationships among people, objects and the broader environment.
In a world fast losing traditional reference points, the future may well belong to those who adopt a Shi mindset. Those who embrace the lightness of relationships and flows rather than the heaviness of resource ownership. I believe it would be these ‘dancers of the moment’ who would lead the world in this era of uncertainty and discontinuity.
Acknowledgements:
1 The Age of Discontinuity: Guidelines to our changing society
by Peter F Drucker,1969.
2. The Propensity of Things: Toward a History of Efficacy in China
Shakti Ghosal ~ has been blogging (ESGEE musgings) since September 30, 2011 and he is a Contributing Writer to Into the Bardo. He was born at New Delhi, India. Shakti is an Engineer and Management Post Graduate from IIM, Bangalore. Apart from Management theory, Shakti remains fascinated with diverse areas ranging from World History and Economic trends to Human Psychology and Development.
A senior management professional, Shakti has been professionally involved for over twenty-five years at both international and India centric levels spanning diverse business areas and verticals. With a strong bias towards action and results, Shakti remains passionate about team empowerment and process improvement.
Shakti currently resides in the beautiful city of Muscat in Oman with wife Sanchita, a doctorate and an educationist. They are blessed with two lovely daughters, Riya and Piya.