It is, It isn't
Posted on Nov 10th, 2007
by 
Catherine
Catherine
there was a dream
each breath, ah yes
the air had qualities (qualities)
inhaling brought me skyward
and I couldn’t decide
eyes open or eyes closed?
but the welling surged, like laughter posing a question
“what is Beauty?”
and it is
and it isn’t
and in the silence, the riddler grinned
smirking, sliding slowing, simply
to an honest smile
if everything really is sand
weather has much to teach us
and what of, fluttering pages
dampened scripts from the puppet parade
all such, scribbled dialogs, doggedly learned?
time’s quality is not a game of rations
to be divvied, small offerings to proud regularity
the safety gained in scheduled rhythm
(oh! but to be secure!)
can never change what it is
we really
fear
so, ply the moment for its colors
let all your circumstances reach your lips and tongue
and honestly
trust your lungs
(and the other one)
let them tell your time
they better know
the tick and measure
of your life
©2007 C.L.B. Callender
each breath, ah yes
the air had qualities (qualities)
inhaling brought me skyward
and I couldn’t decide
eyes open or eyes closed?
but the welling surged, like laughter posing a question
“what is Beauty?”
and it is
and it isn’t
and in the silence, the riddler grinned
smirking, sliding slowing, simply
to an honest smile
if everything really is sand
weather has much to teach us
and what of, fluttering pages
dampened scripts from the puppet parade
all such, scribbled dialogs, doggedly learned?
time’s quality is not a game of rations
to be divvied, small offerings to proud regularity
the safety gained in scheduled rhythm
(oh! but to be secure!)
can never change what it is
we really
fear
so, ply the moment for its colors
let all your circumstances reach your lips and tongue
and honestly
trust your lungs
(and the other one)
let them tell your time
they better know
the tick and measure
of your life
©2007 C.L.B. Callender
Access: Public
air
August 2008 
“if everything really is sand
weather has much to teach us”
Powerful lines. So much of the time, we resist the “weather”, don't we? Instead of accepting the wind, and the rain and the sun, we fight against it. Maybe that “fight” is in-born. The time it takes to go from resistance to acceptance is getting less and less, but the initial “digging in the heels” is still there.
“the safety gained in scheduled rhythm
(oh! but to be secure!)
can never change what it is
we really
fear”
You use verse to express this experience with beauty and poignancy. It's good to know we're not alone. Peace, Otter
Yes, the fight does seem to be in-born! I think it is because the fight itself is where the understanding and awareness is born that eventually brings us to acceptance… a reshaping of sorts.
children building castles in the sand,
tibetan monks carefully making mandalas of sand
the only difference, the tibetans destroy their artwork themselves
before nature can do the deed
I listened to a woman, Eliana Gilad, from israel this morning, speak of the peace there
in Galilee, and in her own heart and life, and she said to us fearful Americans
“Get over your fear, you will find a happy life there…” Her presentation was entitled,
“Calm in the Eye of the Storm”.
Hi Forrest :-)
you pointed out to me in a conversation last summer that I am kind of a stickler for the …. uh… finer points of meaning and language and human understanding?
(it is more a compulsion than a choice:-)
sooooooo
(grin)
I will ask: is the “only difference” really that the monks destroy their artwork?
Personally I have never been so impressed (or moved) by the Tibetan sand art… simply because from the beginning to the end, it is an exercise in control to point out that there is no “control”!… (therefore feigning the unchangeable “loss” that life always brings)… to make a… well, to make a religious point.
Humans crave permanence… but it is not in their power. So I ask myself, does a ritualistic destruction of something I would want to preserve change that?:-)
It is a mild form of religious “sacrifice”. A Christian Monk flogs himself because he is “unworthy” (and therefore what? proves he is worthy!) Through the millennia societies have sacrificed animals and children, and material objects to experience a “loss” and then presumably, experience a spiritual gain.
But I would say children's sand castles bubble with life, because the creators are absorbed in the creation while creating….that is the power of the metaphor for me.
hi catherine,
you of the precise use of language and meaning (grin)
i'm not a devotee of tibetan sand paintings. but how they impact people is probably
covers a wide range. It is a conscious act, and the destruction also conscious. Of course children often not only flow with nature destroying their artwork, but sometimes gleefully destroy it themselves. Destruction can be really fun, like wielding a sledge hammer and having at it.
Although i have generally experienced tibetans and tibetan monks as playful, childlike people, there are undoubtedly some who just go through the motions. And all traditions struggle with rituals and whether they have any juice, whether they evoke Presence in the present, or they are just going through the motions. I know that i grew up in a Protestant church world that was dying, and they attempted to revive youthful interest by getting rid of old musty rituals, and i remember playing electric guitar in church one early Easter sunrise (with a massive hangover from my drinking the night before!). But when i was in Santa Fe my singing teacher got me into the synagogue choir and i was blown away by the power when they evoked the Presence with ancient words and the shofar (their long ram's hom thingy). Then here in Albuquerque i was the tenor soloist in an episcopalian church and i was struck by the power of the communion (Eucharist), how shamanistic and powerful it was, to drink the blood of christ, and eat his body. and then on Ash Wednesday, to have ashes daubed on the forehead and listen to the words “ashes to ashes, dust to dust”. I know that most of the people in these institutions are completely bored and paying little attention, but i felt the energy that was put into these rituals long ago, it really moved me.
not sure where all that is coming from or going to! I guess it's just a feeling that form is fun to play with, and yet means nothing if we aren't present, if we don't breathe life into the forms. Maybe for my architect friend, it's like the power of the ancient cathedrals in Europe. One could just walk in them and take a few pictures and go home and tell our friends what a nice trip we had. But my god, what a lot of energy and power is still in those buildings! My dream is that someday we'll take all these old churches and cathedrals, and use them for the arts, for music and drama and yoga classes!
sacrifice is another topic, hmmm, no time for a rant on that !
but in general, i guess i would say that adults can get absorbed in the creation while creating, and that great beauty comes from that. So maybe the final thought i have on it is that when we are alive to the process, and not concerned so much with result (or who gets credit for the creation!), we can play like children and have a good time, and maybe create something beautiful, no matter how long it is before the waves wash it away.
and what is permanent has no form, no color, no shape or sound.
waves come and go, the ocean remains
our thoughts, our emotions, our bodies, come and go
who remains?
… it is just that nothing matters
…(and so does everything)
(dang!!!)
:-)
tarnation!!!
bit by the paradox again…
i learned this past weekend that ha is the sanskrit for annihilation
the last sound we make when we die
and of course it's also laughter!
oh, and can't resist repeating this one,
“when we are born, everyone is laughing and we are crying,
and when we die, we are laughing and everyone else is crying!”
:-)