Joseph Campbell Meditation #1

"Metaphors only seem to describe the outer world of time and place.  Their real universe is the spiritual realm of the inner life.  The Kingdom of God is within you."  from Thou Art That

I owe Joseph Campbell a lot.  When I found Power of Myth, I understood I had discovered a work that would dramatically change my reason for writing.  I'd been living for so long without a center.  I was in a dry place.  I wanted to write but the writing was dead.  I still feel that sometimes, but now I know how to reach the center of my creativity.  Not that it's always easy and not that I'm always successful.  But at least now I know I have a center; I know how it feels to write from that place.

I was reading recently that Bob Dylan said that his spirituality comes from his participation in song.  I relate to that.  More and more I am learning to compose from within.  I've always done this, but the writing hasn't always been grounded in the reality of every day life.  My earliest writing efforts were boring and vague, not effective at all in conveying my consciousness.  I've been talking to students a lot lately about how stories and poems are records of consciousness.  We are separated from each other because of geography, worry, or fear; it's art that brings us together because in art we see another's mind and we understand we aren't alone.  In a flash, we experience a moment of wholeness. 

I don't mean that we should just write about positive or pretty things.  Ugliness also must be addressed. 

a rogue wave

may be the result of a number
of factors coming together
such as a strong wind multiplied
with other effects
the point is

you don't know it's coming
your life is really okay
your life is going as planned
your sea is calm
you take
your ordinary lunch with
a glass of red wine
you are actually bored

preoccupied
honestly the world
is dead except
unknown to you

there's the wave
the anomaly
the wine you notice

is a little bitter
tastes too much of oak
your bread is dry and those
birds in the distance
they are nothing but gulls

*I've been thinking a lot about the rogue wave that struck the cruise ship recently.  It seemed to me to be a perfect metaphor for the things in life that we never see coming.  This is just a raw, rough draft, but I really needed to get it down.  My blog is so great because it always invites me to compose.

A Poem (3)

been
so tired
lately

dreamed last night
of a magnificent palace
of polished wood and glass
through the front doors lay
everything the heart desires
I stayed a long time
and when I had to leave
I went to the back doors
as the rules required

beyond was flat desert
sand, scrub, and a washed-out sky
in the blinding sun
I saw a giant turtle
it was dead
trapped inside a weathered fence
its mouth was open 
its eyes slanted and fierce

I turned back 
the palace was crumbling
the doors had locked behind
and my beloved was nowhere
in sight

*I think this dream was inspired by the movie Paris, Texas, which I recently watched twice, once with the commentary and once without.  Also, I've been reading and writing a lot lately about the death of the beloved.

A Poem (2)

been
so tired
lately

dreamed last night
a student gifted me with a tall
bottle of ink

India ink, strong-black
I craved it like a vampire
craves blood

A Poem

A POEM

been
so tired
lately

dreamed last night
my pen kept running
out of ink