Tuesday, January 10, 2017

soft pedaling through your own time lapse



from the sea (5) –  merging and menopause, raga intro, part 1 of 2 by freda karpf

"The events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance to ourselves, they find their own order…the continuous thread of revelation."  Eudora Welty

     Kavanah is what takes a routine act and makes it sacred. It is the intention that transforms habit into ritual. Stirring the soup creates meandering matrixes of thoughts. This act, made deliberate, becomes sacred.  A great woman, a walker in the world, shared these thoughts. She walked along the path with Mrs. Scattergood from grief to a new life. You never can tell in advance of your journey all that you will come across. Whether people or different skies, that is the one true thing about every journey, no matter how much you prepare, you should expect the unexpected. Thankfully, Mrs. Scattergood met the graces on her path.
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     Everything, Alan Watts, everything is a ‘differentiation or form in the unified field of the Tao.’  Every flower calling for our attention, the yellow zucchini flowers calling for breading and frying, the peppery nasturtiums warming your heart with their deep oranges and yellows, the tiger lilies, long flowers on long stems, great in salads and calling you into the sun then leading you toward the pale violet of the hastas in the shade. Everything is a form in the unified field of Tao, even scarves mulled through the rainbow colors of left over skeins in the basket, even the small coquina clams you feel on your bare feet where the water’s a thin layer over the wet sand, even the crow’s call and the conversations they have up in the treetops.  Everything is a part of the Tao, even mistakes. Even love that wasn’t meant to be. Even the change from a talk to a conversation with your loved one in their other realm.  Even quick impressions of the chipmunk darting off the porch. Even the threads of your mother’s voice coming from your lips. Everything is part of the Tao. Especially soup.
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      Memories have push. They have calories to burn that time might trim down but there’s still heat in many of them. The stronger ones. The ones that go past the tripping, trollipping sense of thought and language and burrow into your sinus cavities or wherever it is in your body that houses memories triggered by smell or sight or the combination of senses not yet named, like the ability to recall a certain breeze when the air is warm or the cold memories that winter brings when you are thawing out. The senses that are so many can be lost to the daily beating they get from the new bark or neocortex on the frontal lobes; or walloped by the hard line reality of the clock world and forced to go subterranean in a body filled with juices and ligaments.  Oh, what a cruel fate.  And we think salmon have it tough. Not really. They just swim and rely on the memory of the water passing by their scales and use the changing temperatures of the waters they pass through like a rudder to steer them back to the place of bones and bottlenecks where they were born.
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     Something either causes forgetfulness or forgetfulness is the cause of something.  The issue is really about how fast time is distorted when someone dies and how soon you realize that the world of memories is unreliable. The body knows better what it misses but the mind remembers dates. The days chew up the remnants that you struggled to keep intact and there is nothing but the empty spackle of struggle and the fishnet of grief left when you wake up and realize, ‘Holy moly, there was someone there and there is not anymore. Yet I am.’
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     There is beauty all around and in the life we are given.  If we can remember to look and listen, some of the very first lessons we were given will swim in the stream with us.  The song will never end. It is a raga of beauty, courage too, some difficulties. Hope is there to comfort and point the way.
~
     We are sometimes asleep to our own voices and our own needs.  It was only later that Mrs. Scattergood realized that when she told someone her version of the story about Demeter and Persephone she was also listening to it.  She heard, “Find her.  Find her,” and didn’t know till she shared that story that she was also looking for her mother.  Stories repeat.  Choruses are sung.  Desires return.  Cycles cycle.  She just never realized that this urge to tell this story, was a way for her to find her own. 
~
     Was she cut from the path or did she take a long turn around the earth looking for Demeter? Her mother said you never forget how to ride a bike.  But Mrs. Scattergood wondered where to begin.  So many missed opportunities for seeing these connections between her mother and herself; between missing her and realizing the gifts she received from her. Summer was the big gift. Of course coming after the life she was given. Summer and soup.  Seeking this connection, finding her way back to life, coming from the deep below to the great above, she felt like a seed of a pomegranate soft-pedaling through her own time lapse.

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