Tuesday, July 29, 2008
The Raw Honey of God
The Raw Honey of God
Sometimes people ask me why I write poems such as (many of) these, so apart from the modern tradition, tongued in the syllables of the ancient sacred voice.
Such poems are the raw honey of God. They are not written for critics, those who have wrapped themselves in the defenses of irony and disbelief, but rather for those who know the world of the deep spirit, the regions of love where the open heart speaks to the open heart. They are like a treasure chest, flung open to all who pass by. Some will glance in, see nothing but trinkets and baubles, and hurry on to seek more tangible rewards. Others will discern pure gold, theirs for the taking, and claim these ancient coins in sheer delight, or as guides to aid them on their way.
I have had the boldness to use the word "God" in the title, but of course, I am not talking about the austere being who was introduced to us in Sunday School or mass. “God" carries heavy connotations of gender (the mighty He of the Old Testament.) But, as we now know, God is beyond sexual typing and definition, being pure, indescribable, ineffable, boundless, uncreated Love. That's all he/she/it is-(the dance of the atoms in the blood, the rocks, the pull and tide of the seas, the eternal communion of the stars in the endlessly turning heavens.)
Those who have known awakened kundalini have discovered the truth of this reality in their own bodies. For (when all goes well) as the divine spirit enters, God (in the most comprehensive sense) invades every cell and corpuscle, each nerve and fiber and inner molecule, with immeasurable rapture, spinning the being like an atom whirling on its own axis of joy.
It may seem like pride to link these verses to such ineffable Mystery. I do not mean to imply that they are the "literal truths" of sacred script, infallible messages from an invisible supernal realm. Merely that at the time many "came through" I often felt (as poets have from the beginnings) literally in-spired, infused by holy presence, breathed by god. Those who know the language of mysticism will recognize that the descriptions are those of a well known path, that of the traveler seeking source and the essential union which will, finally, bring the spirit home.
Dorothy Walters
July 27, 2008
Sometimes people ask me why I write poems such as (many of) these, so apart from the modern tradition, tongued in the syllables of the ancient sacred voice.
Such poems are the raw honey of God. They are not written for critics, those who have wrapped themselves in the defenses of irony and disbelief, but rather for those who know the world of the deep spirit, the regions of love where the open heart speaks to the open heart. They are like a treasure chest, flung open to all who pass by. Some will glance in, see nothing but trinkets and baubles, and hurry on to seek more tangible rewards. Others will discern pure gold, theirs for the taking, and claim these ancient coins in sheer delight, or as guides to aid them on their way.
I have had the boldness to use the word "God" in the title, but of course, I am not talking about the austere being who was introduced to us in Sunday School or mass. “God" carries heavy connotations of gender (the mighty He of the Old Testament.) But, as we now know, God is beyond sexual typing and definition, being pure, indescribable, ineffable, boundless, uncreated Love. That's all he/she/it is-(the dance of the atoms in the blood, the rocks, the pull and tide of the seas, the eternal communion of the stars in the endlessly turning heavens.)
Those who have known awakened kundalini have discovered the truth of this reality in their own bodies. For (when all goes well) as the divine spirit enters, God (in the most comprehensive sense) invades every cell and corpuscle, each nerve and fiber and inner molecule, with immeasurable rapture, spinning the being like an atom whirling on its own axis of joy.
It may seem like pride to link these verses to such ineffable Mystery. I do not mean to imply that they are the "literal truths" of sacred script, infallible messages from an invisible supernal realm. Merely that at the time many "came through" I often felt (as poets have from the beginnings) literally in-spired, infused by holy presence, breathed by god. Those who know the language of mysticism will recognize that the descriptions are those of a well known path, that of the traveler seeking source and the essential union which will, finally, bring the spirit home.
Dorothy Walters
July 27, 2008
