More Than Imagining I Try To Be
When I imagine the lake
and the fields and the trees
and the murderous foxes
and dead hens
and the proud fatally
wounded cockerel
and the snowdrops hidden
under the Bay Tree
I swim in the dead dry lake
a fish now on dry stone
the walls of the small
dead-end road
surrounding me walking
no hedgerows just rock
and nettle roots and dock
the honeysuckle dormant
the dog roses sleeping
the hips all eaten or wasted
More than imagining
I try to be these things
I dislike the lake’s wetness
cold water on my flesh
I sink in the darkness
of crypto and zebra
I become the great pleasure
of the buzzard flying
rising on the currents of air
not concerned with hunting
stalking only the territory
of the sky engrossed by it
not concerned with rabbit
or small mammal
nor falling like a stone to earth
not part of a system
which is to be a mechanism
but ensouled in its meeting
my meeting with the law of air
The Hug of Gaia 
Tony, you are marvelous. How did you know just when I might be sitting here, open to the words in your poem? And then open still to more in your blog. How have I forgotten to read it? I have. Thank you. Such depth of truth and beauty. I am grateful. Love Jane
Sent from my iPhone
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Jane…So lovely to hear from you…how is the singing? Can you still do it? Well I guess we are all feeling the conflict of negative images and destructive forces and hope for the future…and trying hard to transcend all this lockdown …imprisonment of spirit…soar with the eagle …as an American singer ..who I am not allowed to play …says it …nice song though….you know who.
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Herein you seem to succeed in describing the indescribable through incredibly deft imaging. Your images are so very evocative. If we all had the power to see them or images akin to them, our meditations would lighten and EN-lighten us considerably.
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Thank you so much Marcia…I value your erudition in these areas…hope that isn’t patronising it isn’t meant to be ….what you been reading in these times? I have found it difficult to read lately I must admit…I’m back with Pema Chodron !!
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Truthfully, Tony, I haven’t been reading much either—for the first time in my (readin) life. I did just finish “Actress” by Ann Enright, which Beth gave me for Christmas and am thinking of starting “Jack” by Marilynne Robinson—novels feel right to me in this suspended moment in time. I think you would enjoy Robinson, who examines “spirit” in a very Protestant way. For solace I retreat into Woolf. Sending love to you and Max.
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That’s cool ha ha …we missed out on a calendar this year and all I could get was “Irish Lighthouses”, so I thought I would make it more literary: I added to February: (Loop Head, Co. Clare) “Odious little man, thought Mrs. Ramsey, why go on saying that? Perhaps you will wake up and find the sun shining and the birds singing.” Yes “solace” indeed. I will look out the Robinson thank you. Any suggestions on the lighthouse theme for March?
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Hello, Tony. Well, Woolf’s “To the Lighthouse” is of course what I think of for its abundance of beautiful lighthouse images. She was thinking of Godrevy Light in Cornwall which was visible every summer during family vacations. Here is one image I love:
“Only the Lighthouse beam entered the rooms for a moment, sent its sudden stare over the bed and wall in the darkness of winter, looked with equanimity at the thistle and the swallow, the rat and the straw. Nothing now withstood them; nothing said no to them. Let the wind blow; let the poppy seed itself and the carnation mate with the cabbage. Let the swallow build in the drawing room, and the thistle thrust aside the tiles, and the butterfly sun itself on the faded chintz of the arm chairs.”
This is part of the “Time Passes” section of “To the Lighthouse,” in which human events, even the Great War, are secondary to the pure passage of time and Woolf speculates, “What power could now prevent the fertility, the insensibility of nature?”
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It must be thought provoking when a stranger decides to read your posts and through you a comment on your thoughts. I’ve been trying to read more as well, but like so many others I’m finding the times to be very distracting. All the numbers and statistics being shown to us on the news keeps me thinking…when will numbers stop defining our existence?
Numbers. As an accountant I cherished my numbers, I kept them orderly, organized and in line with all the other numbers that had to coexist in my world. There was(perhaps still) a time when I looked forward to seeing the results of time period, I could hardly wait to compare them to other numbers I’d already become familiar with, and comfortable with their ability to tell the truth.
When I have no reference to put numbers into perspective I find them so unimportant. Do I do this in other ways? Maybe I’ve pushed aside numbers because I don’t know what to believe anymore. I think that this forced isolation has gotten us all to slow down and take inventory of the important things in our lives.
And then there’s Yoga. I spent months, dare I say over a year, searching for pain relief after my experience with a “bad back”. I had never had a pain that wouldn’t just go away with a bit of gentle caring and recovery time. I was 29 and had suffered a “muscle spasm” in my lower back, one that had rendered me physically helpless in the sanctity of my own home. I suffered through the most uncomfortable and painful situation I had ever encountered. It lead me to Yoga.
I tried all the chemical solutions and had been to Chiropractic, neurological, physical therapy and acupuncturist to seek a relief from my pain. Then, some force that I’d never considered before began pulling me toward a lifestyle change that I’d only ever thought about but never fit into my life. I had been to see many professionals for relief from a chronic pain and was not finding much relief from pain but rather only monetary relief for those offering their solutions to my problems. On one summer day after a nice morning sail on the bay, I was returning home and stopped at a traffic light when I looked to a sign on the second floor of a building at the corner. It read…. Y O G A …
In that moment while we wait our turn at the intersection, it had registered with me that I never tried yoga for relief of my pains. Somewhat excitedly I jotted down the phone number and head home. I though about the yoga experience I had in high school during an Asian studies class I loved so much, and decided to make the call to try a class. That was 21 years ago and yoga has been an influence in my life since then. Regrettably I haven’t been as faithful to my body as I should and have let my yoga skills lapse.
So, here I am reading a poem about yoga and meditation written by a person that I’ve only recently had the opportunity to become familiar with. I realized that I needed to get back in touch with my “body and mind connection” recently and I have been contemplating a return to my yoga mat.
With that said, how did you know there was someone to be inspired by your thoughts, your words, your poetry? By whatever force of the universe, whatever timing the stars and moon, thank you for deciding to put your thoughts and words out to the Blogosphere. From one small soul lost in the blogosphere of life, I hope your able to cherish all those thoughts that emerge from your yoga meditation 🧘 .
William the 1st!
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That’s beautiful William…I replied yesterday and it seems to have got lost so I plan to reply as a blog follow up “Meditation During Yoga 2” I hope the Catskills are getting Spring-like. You inspired me to say more.
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I inspired you. Hm, wasn’t expecting that!
Good.
W1
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Morning Tony,
How are you?
Some pictures of my latest adventures! The snow drops as mentioned in your poem. The crocuses look beautiful. Did you plant some in the front garden?, I’m sure you told me you did. We must catch up on zoom.
Love to you both
Jenny x
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