Nowhere Left To Stand, No More Anything
I saw it coming. I could not stop it.
Yesterday morning was hell.
This (from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance) is what it felt like…
Then his mind’s eye looked up and caught his own image and realized where he was and what he was seeing and — I don’t know what really happened — but now the slippage that Phædrus had felt earlier, the internal parting of his mind, suddenly gathered momentum, as do the rocks at the top of a mountain. Before he could stop it, the sudden accumulated mass of awareness began to grow and grow into in avalanche of thought and awareness out of control; with each additional growth of the downward tearing mass loosening hundreds of times its volume, and then that mass uprooting hundreds of times its volume more, and then hundreds of times that; on and on, wider and broader, until there was nothing left to stand.
No more anything.
It all gave way from under him. [Page 166, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance]
Little hints of my fractured state... like here. And here. And here. And here. And here. And here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here… holy crap!
The one constant here, I think, is anger, whether out in the open or latent.
Yesterday was Poetry Reading Day at The Black Cat Bookstore in Truth or Consequences, NM. I’d decided not to attend. I changed my mind. I drove through a pissy, misty rain, the perfect mirror of my mood. I considered removing my seatbelt and crashing. I changed my mind.
Invisible fingernails tore at my head as I sat waiting for the readings to begin. I was third to read. I’d brought four poems but read only two. First up, Balancing Act, Ergo the Ego. Polite applause.
Next was Ghost, Walking. My voice grew loud, agitated, then soft, resigned at the end. I’d sprayed my fellow poets with my hellishly inner state. Muted applause. I felt empty and yet, relieved. A purging.
Interlude…
Stephen Spiritwalker Rhodes was the first to lighten my mood as he read his poem…
Your Life May Not Be Right
-by Stephen Rhodes, 3/8/18
If You, yes You, personally speaking,
Do Not Have a Smile On,
a Pet to talk to and live With,
or not seeking fun and Memories;If You, do not, connect Love Streams,
or See & Hear & Feel Nature’s Gifts,
don’t take time for the Inside,
& are not laughing & Growing Younger....What Are You Doing Then..
You just could be
not Being a Creator,
And finding Psyche
temporarily Off-Balance.the Answers, my friend,
as Dylan said,
Are Blowing In The Wind,
there To Be Discovered & Taken In
It was like I’d been given a magic pill. Other poets added to my emerging sunlight. I wish I could share some of them here, but Stephen is the only person I have contact with via Facebook. The poems ranged from dark to light, from gritty to flights of fantasy. And all of them, all of them, added to my joy. No other word, but joy.
Stephen is quite the artist. He took these pix during the readings.
