Poetry, Imagination, and Living the Questions - Barque: Thomas Moore Network2024-03-29T07:04:37Zhttp://thomasmoore.ning.com/forum/topics/poetry-imagination-and-living?feed=yes&xn_auth=noand more...
Rest in Mystery…tag:thomasmoore.ning.com,2008-12-11:658526:Comment:74612008-12-11T20:01:05.000ZWakinghttp://thomasmoore.ning.com/profile/Waking
and more...<br />
<br />
<i>Rest in Mystery<br />
For it is the cradle<br />
of the divine in each of us.<br />
<br />
Rest in Mystery<br />
For it is the crucible<br />
wherein our gold is given birth.<br />
<br />
Embrace Unknowing<br />
For it is the unraveler of the thread<br />
That holds together our mistaken certainty.<br />
<br />
Embrace Unknowing<br />
For it is the sea that binds the raindrop<br />
In great tides of mystery.<br />
<br />
Embrace Unknowing<br />
For it is the weaver whose silken web<br />
Enfolds us in Eternity.</i><br />
<br />
(in Richard Moss: <i>Words That Shine Both Ways</i>, poem by Gill…
and more...<br />
<br />
<i>Rest in Mystery<br />
For it is the cradle<br />
of the divine in each of us.<br />
<br />
Rest in Mystery<br />
For it is the crucible<br />
wherein our gold is given birth.<br />
<br />
Embrace Unknowing<br />
For it is the unraveler of the thread<br />
That holds together our mistaken certainty.<br />
<br />
Embrace Unknowing<br />
For it is the sea that binds the raindrop<br />
In great tides of mystery.<br />
<br />
Embrace Unknowing<br />
For it is the weaver whose silken web<br />
Enfolds us in Eternity.</i><br />
<br />
(in Richard Moss: <i>Words That Shine Both Ways</i>, poem by Gill Goater)<br />
<br />
<br />
This brings to mind another beautiful observation about life’s mysteries.<br />
<br />
“I know no better definition of life than Jung’s, that ‘<u><b><i>life is a luminous pause between two great mysteries which yet are one</i></b></u>.’ <b>‡</b> The mystery which can be known by the narrow band of being we call consciousness is not the whole mystery. We never arrive at the day when we know finally and for sure what the journey has been about. We are only called to live it as consciously as we can.” <b>†</b><br />
<br />
<b>†</b> James Hollis, <i>The Middle Passage - From Misery to Meaning in Midlife,</i> p.114<br />
<b>‡</b> C.G. Jung, <i>Letters</i> vol.1, p. 483 a couple additions ...
Hymn…tag:thomasmoore.ning.com,2008-12-05:658526:Comment:74012008-12-05T20:07:53.000ZWakinghttp://thomasmoore.ning.com/profile/Waking
a couple additions ...<br />
<br />
<u><b>Hymn of the Universe, Pensees #36</b></u><br />
By Pierre Teilhard de Chardin<br />
<br />
Fold your wings, my soul<br />
those wings you had spread wide<br />
to soar to the terrestrial peaks<br />
where the light is most ardent.<br />
It is for you to simply wait<br />
the descent of the Fire -<br />
supposing it to be willing to take hold of you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<u><b>PART FOUR: TIME AND ETERNITY</b></u><br />
by Emily Dickinson<br />
<br />
THE SOUL should always stand ajar.<br />
That if the heaven inquire,<br />
He will not be obliged to wait,<br />
Or shy of…
a couple additions ...<br />
<br />
<u><b>Hymn of the Universe, Pensees #36</b></u><br />
By Pierre Teilhard de Chardin<br />
<br />
Fold your wings, my soul<br />
those wings you had spread wide<br />
to soar to the terrestrial peaks<br />
where the light is most ardent.<br />
It is for you to simply wait<br />
the descent of the Fire -<br />
supposing it to be willing to take hold of you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<u><b>PART FOUR: TIME AND ETERNITY</b></u><br />
by Emily Dickinson<br />
<br />
THE SOUL should always stand ajar.<br />
That if the heaven inquire,<br />
He will not be obliged to wait,<br />
Or shy of troubling her.<br />
Depart, before the host has slid<br />
The bolt upon the door,<br />
To seek for the accomplished guest—<br />
Her visitor no more. yes...early this year i had t…tag:thomasmoore.ning.com,2008-11-25:658526:Comment:73282008-11-25T01:17:57.000ZWakinghttp://thomasmoore.ning.com/profile/Waking
yes...early this year i had the great pleasure of attending an event at UCLA where she read her poetry for a couple hours. and i often drive to her poetry readings recorded in "<a href="http://www.beacon.org/productdetails.cfm?PC=1751">At Blacwater Pond</a>"<br />
indeed, nature is a soul-balm i sadly often forget my kinship with.
yes...early this year i had the great pleasure of attending an event at UCLA where she read her poetry for a couple hours. and i often drive to her poetry readings recorded in "<a href="http://www.beacon.org/productdetails.cfm?PC=1751">At Blacwater Pond</a>"<br />
indeed, nature is a soul-balm i sadly often forget my kinship with. "Though I play at the edges o…tag:thomasmoore.ning.com,2008-11-25:658526:Comment:73252008-11-25T01:07:43.000ZBill Johnsonhttp://thomasmoore.ning.com/profile/BillJohnson
"Though I play at the edges of knowing,<br />
truly I know<br />
our part is not knowing,<br />
but looking, and touching, and loving..."<br />
<br />
Mmmm....the final stanza is a state of surrender, in which she's graced with the very thing that had eluded her.<br />
It stirs in me the very feeling I most crave--a surprise of fullness and company, in the midst of apparent emptiness and loneliness. Nature absorbs and reflects the soul that we bring to it, which is why it is such good company and always instructive.<br />
Mary Oliver…
"Though I play at the edges of knowing,<br />
truly I know<br />
our part is not knowing,<br />
but looking, and touching, and loving..."<br />
<br />
Mmmm....the final stanza is a state of surrender, in which she's graced with the very thing that had eluded her.<br />
It stirs in me the very feeling I most crave--a surprise of fullness and company, in the midst of apparent emptiness and loneliness. Nature absorbs and reflects the soul that we bring to it, which is why it is such good company and always instructive.<br />
Mary Oliver is such a fine poet, isn't she? Always hinting at soul, but occasionally asking the direct question, as in your selection. you know, the following poem…tag:thomasmoore.ning.com,2008-11-20:658526:Comment:72832008-11-20T19:36:15.000ZWakinghttp://thomasmoore.ning.com/profile/Waking
you know, the following poem from Mary Oliver ought to site right next to the one above...<br />
<br />
<b>BONE</b><br />
by Mary Oliver<br />
<br />
<b>1.</b><br />
<i>Understand, I am always trying to figure out<br />
what the soul is,<br />
and where hidden,<br />
and what shape<br />
and so, last week,<br />
when I found on the beach<br />
the ear bone<br />
of a pilot whale that may have died<br />
hundreds of years ago, I thought<br />
maybe I was close<br />
to discovering something<br />
for the ear bone</i><br />
<br />
<b>2.</b><br />
<i>is the portion that lasts longest<br />
in any of us, man or whale;…</i>
you know, the following poem from Mary Oliver ought to site right next to the one above...<br />
<br />
<b>BONE</b><br />
by Mary Oliver<br />
<br />
<b>1.</b><br />
<i>Understand, I am always trying to figure out<br />
what the soul is,<br />
and where hidden,<br />
and what shape<br />
and so, last week,<br />
when I found on the beach<br />
the ear bone<br />
of a pilot whale that may have died<br />
hundreds of years ago, I thought<br />
maybe I was close<br />
to discovering something<br />
for the ear bone</i><br />
<br />
<b>2.</b><br />
<i>is the portion that lasts longest<br />
in any of us, man or whale; shaped<br />
like a squat spoon<br />
with a pink scoop where<br />
once, in the lively swimmer's head,<br />
it joined its two sisters<br />
in the house of hearing,<br />
it was only<br />
two inches long<br />
and thought: the soul<br />
might be like this<br />
so hard, so necessary</i><br />
<br />
<b>3.</b><br />
<i>yet almost nothing.<br />
Beside me<br />
the gray sea<br />
was opening and shutting its wave-doors,<br />
unfolding over and over<br />
its time-ridiculing roar;<br />
I looked but I couldn't see anything<br />
through its dark-knit glare;<br />
yet don't we all know, the golden sand<br />
is there at the bottom,<br />
though our eyes have never seen it,<br />
nor can our hands ever catch it</i><br />
<br />
<b>4.</b><br />
<i>lest we would sift it down<br />
into fractions, and facts<br />
certainties<br />
and what the soul is, also<br />
I believe I will never quite know.<br />
Though I play at the edges of knowing,<br />
truly I know<br />
our part is not knowing,<br />
but looking, and touching, and loving,<br />
which is the way I walked on,<br />
softly,<br />
through the pale-pink morning light.</i>