What the Sciences Sing to Us

THE SCIENCES SING A LULLABYE
Physics says: go to sleep. Of course
you're tired. Every atom in you
has been dancing the shimmy in silver shoes
nonstop from mitosis to now.
Quit tapping your feet. They'll dance
inside themselves without you. Go to sleep.

Geology says: it will be all right. Slow inch
by inch America is giving itself
to the ocean. Go to sleep. Let darkness
lap at your sides. Give darkness an inch.
You aren't alone. All of the continents used to be
one body. You aren't alone. Go to sleep.

Astronomy says: the sun will rise tomorrow,
Zoology says: on rainbow-fish and lithe gazelle,
Psychology says: but first it has to be night, so
Biology says: the body-clocks are stopped all over town
and
History says: here are the blankets, layer on layer, down and down.
- Albert Goldbarth


thank you, Whiskey River

Here we are at Whiskey River again

It seems only yesterday I used to believe

there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.
- Billy Collins

This poem is especially apropos in light of my recent mishap in NYC, where I tripped and fell and, yes, skinned my knee and bled.  Not good.  

But what I want to think about today is the first part of the poem.  I love the image of "nothing under my skin but light."  And I wonder:  does that feeling ever really go away completely?  Yes, it's strongest when you're a young child.  I was fortunate to have a great childhood and oh my gosh, I wish I could recreate that feeling of complete security and trust in the world.  I had no and I mean zero worries as long as my mother and daddy were around.  They could do anything.  The light then was a bright, almost blinding white.

The light changed color around age 12, to a dull yellow-gray.  My mother had a health crisis and the aftermath was, in retrospect, tragic in every sense of the word.  I lost my confidence.  I didn't trust the world and I didn't trust myself.  

It has taken a long time and a lot of hard work, but at this point I visualize my light as white, but not a blinding white.  It's softer, and sometimes one can see undertones of the various colors that make up this white, much like holding a prism up to the sunlight.

Is there "nothing under my skin but light?"  No, that divine light has been tempered by my time in this life.  But the light is not gone.  If you cut me, yes, I bleed, but I also shine.

Food for Thought: The blossom fades, but...

From whiskey river:

"'Life has always seemed to me like a plant that lives on its rhizome. It's true life is invisible, hidden in the rhizome. The part that appears above the ground lasts only a single summer. Then it withers away - an ephemeral apparition. When we think of the unending growth and decay of life and civilizations, we cannot escape the impression of absolute nullity. Yet I have never lost the sense of something that lives and endures beneath the eternal flux. What we see is blossom, which passes. The rhizome remains.'
– Carl Jung
Memories, Dreams, Reflections"

Food for Thought: Whiskey River

Most mornings I have a fairly set routine.  I get up, read the paper, eat a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, and go to my exercise class.  When I get home from exercise, I get a cup of coffee and sit down to gather my thoughts for the day.  I always check for new posts on my son Cort's blog, FixMemphis, 'cause it's the best way I have to keep up with him!  By the way, "FixMemphis" refers to the type of bike that Cort rides - a fixed gear bike - rather than to any attempt to improve the City of Memphis.  Then I read the posts for the day at Smart City Memphis to get my adrenaline flowing.  This one does have to do
with ways to improve the City of Memphis!

I know, I'm pretty boring.

Lastly, I read Whiskey River (the intoxication of being swept along with the current.)  I use it as my meditation for the day.  I encourage you to bookmark it and check it occasionally.  What hits me may not necessarily hit you and vice versa.  In the meantime, here are the posts from the past couple of days:

For Equilibrium, a Blessing

Like the joy of the sea coming home to shore,
May the relief of laughter rinse through your soul.

As the wind loves to call things to dance,
May your gravity be lightened by grace.

Like the freedom of the monastery bell,
May clarity of mind make your eyes smile.

As water takes whatever shape it is in,
So free may you be about who you become.

As silence smiles on the other side of what's said,
May your sense of irony bring perspective.

As time remains free of all that it frames,
May your mind stay clear of all it names.

May your prayer of listening deepen enough
to hear in the depths the laughter of God.
- John O'Donohue
To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Invocations and Blessings

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"The wonder of a moment in which there is nothing but an upwelling of simple happiness is utterly awesome. Gratitude is so close to the bone of life, pure and true, that it instantly stops the rational mind, and all its planning and plotting. That kind of let go is fiercely threatening. I mean, where might such gratitude end?"
- Regina Sara Ryan
Praying Dangerously
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Don't you love the line about the water?

My driveway, November 2010