books, culture, God, Inspiration, Life, literature, religion, spirituality
No flowery tongued quotes today. Been falling back on ’em too much lately. The problem with quoting is it tends to put someone else’s words, and the books they are written in, too high up on a pedestal.
Don’t get me wrong, I love books and cherish the voices of authors throughout the ages, but Life is what matters, and Life is flowing through you and me precisely where we are, right now. Tap into what is passing through you this very instant, as it is passing through every insect, every flower and every plant and animal and indeed every living being at this very moment, and as Walt Whitman says ‘you shall posses the origin of all poems.’ Ok, but it was a short quote.
That, to my thinking, is the sole Wisdom spoken and written of throughout all space and all time.
It is later. Lunchtime, and I am sitting in an A&W drinking coffee. It is minus ten outside. That’s ok with me because it keeps the flies down. I wrote the above passage in my truck, waiting for a dock at a Co-op grocery store. Just finished a pickup at Costco, where a cutter and I were philosophizing on whether the tub of stale outdated meat was half full or half empty.
The point being that many find my job disgusting and are vocal in letting me know. I suppose it is, this throwing tubs of rotting meat around, week old fish heads and liver and dis-coloring chicken.
But what people don’t realize is that I’m laughing inside, pregnant and brimming over with this post that’s straining to see the light of day. You hear the song I’m singing? I feel like that gal in The Great Gig In The Sky on Pink Floyd’s classic Dark Side Of The Moon album. And now that I think of it, how appropriate that she lets loose right after someone intones ‘I’m not afraid of dying. Why should I be? I see no reason for it.’ Not long ago I watched a DVD on the making of Dark Side. They had space to fill so they sent this gal in to improvise over a simple two cord progression. She emerged from the studio to stunned awed silence saying ‘sorry, let me try that one again.’ But she had tapped into that something inside. Is she making love or giving birth or both simultaneously? No matter, the woman of the species has spoken and that is plenty enough!
This post? Crude? Awkward? Stammering? Absolutely. But this is my song and when I sing that all those amazing written documents contained in all the books and libraries the world over are all well and good, however, what this world really needs is more of us tapping into that ever nameless thing flowing through us I call Life for want of a better term, then my words and this simple post take wing and joins with all those others we’ve mistakenly placed up there on that pedestal. They belong among us; they are us!
I’m smiling inside because with this post I know I’ve joined those Giants of the Spirit up on the grand stage. Maybe I’m just there pushing around a dust broom behind them, but that’s ok with me. Then let the dust be my song and I’ll keep singing it ’till I’m dust too.
What’s your song? Not your song but Your Song? The world has need of it. It is the only revolution worth contemplating, the only paradigm shift worth considering.
It is precisely where you are, right this ever flowing instant. Still yourself and listen with all your being. Listen inside yourself, somewhere down low—towards the pit of your stomach I’d say— for The Great Passing Through.
Because Life is ALL there is…
But don’t quote me on that.
Oh, how I like this post. I have been reading all your entries, and when they grow heavy with quotes from books I have never read (Stephen King writes some pretty powerful stuff too you know), I begin to feel disconnected from the message.
Why is it that the posts with tubs of rotting meat appeal to me most of all?
I don’t know, but I like the idea of the Song in everyone waiting to be sung, or danced, or written, or carved into being. I think mine might be the cake waiting to be baked today.
Your words are poetic, so thank you.
Wonderful comment Lu,
Quotes can be crutches, for sure, but they can also fire me up like a tub of meat doesn’t quite… at times. And you’ve nailed the post with your comment: is your cake song vanilla, chocolate, or some other sort of hymn? I’m partial to chocolate these days.
Loved the post. And although I hate to reply with a quote, it reminded me of the lyrics of one of my favorite Grateful Dead songs, Black Muddy River,
I will walk alone by the black muddy river
And sing me a song of my own
Sometimes its good to just sing that song of your own.
Thanks, and I know so little of the Dead, you can quote all day long.
Miss Demure Restraint said:
I read this and the post just prior in the same sitting. In a strange way they feel like the sides of a coin. The one prior to this was extraordinarily erudite. It spoke in an academic voice. Today you asked . . . “This post? Crude? Awkward? Stammering?” The answer is NO. This post sang.
Thank you MDR. Eru-who? I do like the posts that sing though.
You must be busy having a ‘Freshly Pressed’ spotlight on you all weekend. Congratulations, but the avalanche of ‘likes’ and comments must be a little overwhelming.