Back in March 2021, when I sent that first installment of “Sharing Trickster’s Hoard” flying out into the unknown, I wrote: “I’ll start by posting once a week on Fridays. Then we’ll see whether Trickster has something else in mind.” I’ve stuck with Fridays for almost two years — 94 posts. As much as I dislike deadlines, they are often life-lines for me — forcing me to stop galloping off in a dozen different directions & focus my thoughts. So, once a week it has been — a good, rhythmic journey from which I’ve learned much more than I had ever expected. Now, however, Trickster is taking me by the hand & suggesting I try something else.
Over the last 10 years or so, my body has developed a number of issues, the main one being my heart — its crumbling architecture & its tangled and unreliable wiring — blood unable to proceed smoothly on its expected rounds, wildly erratic heartbeats, no steady rhythm on which to build. With unpredictable days when neither my brain nor the rest of my body get all the blood they need, my life has changed. I cannot depend on my body to cooperate with my plans & schedules.
Sharing Trickster’s Hoard continues to be a precious & liberating experience for me — and I love hanging out with all you wonderful & amazing people. So, I’ve decided not to say my farewells. There are so many unfolding wonders & wonderings & stories still to play with. And l love hearing your responses & your stories in return! Such gifts you have given me!
I will send out letters to you as I can — quite randomly. And randomness is certainly in keeping with both Trickster & what many scientists tell us about the underlying nature of the Universe! 🙂
In the January Reflection sent out by The Center for Education, Imagination and the Natural World https://www.beholdnature.org/ , I was delighted to see this quote from Thomas Berry:
“Through our contact with the natural world we learn that the universe throughout its vast extent in space and throughout its long sequence of transformations in time is a single multiform celebratory event. Our role is to enter into this celebration in a special mode of conscious self-awareness, for this celebration is the divine liturgy, the purpose of all existence, a celebration begun in time but continued through eternity.”
Questions I’ve been asking myself today:
“If the Universe is an on-going Emergence, how am I emerging at this point in time?”
“How am I — as part of the Universe — celebrating?“
I’ve been spending long moments, even hours, beholding the land behind our house: this morning’s dense fog; my teacher, Old Oak; the birds that gather at the feeders in such a perfect & perfectly surprising array of sizes, forms, colors & personalities; and the shifts & plays of winter light. Such beauty! And I no longer have much doubt that Beholding, Loving, and Praising are “Real Work” — maybe as important to the Cosmos as any other form of creative work I might undertake. It’s not as tangible as a woven mask or a story or a garden or a tasty stew, but could it be just as essential? Certainly it is Celebration!
And what of praise?
In his poem of the same name, the Polish poet Adam Zagajewski implores us to “Try to Praise the Mutilated World.” https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/57095/try-to-praise-the-mutilated-world-56d23a3f28187
Pattiann Rogers has written a lovely poem imagining the role of Praise, which I may have already shared with you:
SUPPOSITION Suppose the molecular changes taking place In the mind during the act of praise Resulted in an emanation rising into space. Suppose that emanation went forth In the configuration of its occasion: For instance, the design of rain pocks On the lake's surface or the blue depths Of the canyon with its horizontal cedars stunted. Suppose praise had physical properties And actually endured? What if the pattern Of its disturbances rose beyond the atmosphere, Becoming a permanent outline implanted in the cosmos --- The sound of a celebratory banjo or horn Lodging near the third star of Orion's belt; Or to the east of the Pleiades, an atomic disarrangement of the words, "How particular, the pod-eyed hermit crab and his prickly orange legs"? Suppose benevolent praise, Coming into being by our will, Had a separate existence, its purple or azure light Gathering in the upper reaches, affecting The aura of morning haze over autumn fields, Or causing a perturbation in the mode of an asteroid. What if praise and its emanations Were necessary catalysts to the harmonious Expansion of the void? Suppose, for the prosperous Welfare of the universe, there were an element Of need involved.
Well, why not?
photo by Luke Stackpoole (unsplash.com)