Thursday, 28 April 2016

Please... Ears to Hear within the Silence.

When I consider my life experience to date it occurs to me that it is framed by an excess concern for and supply from, the material plane and a deficit of the more intangible, albeit life enriching qualities, which some identify as being; if not the cobblestones, then perhaps the mortar that binds them and therefore a key component of, the "spiritual path."

As a frame of reference, I have read in the "bios" of others the claim of "urban mystic" or "monk" God knows (pun intended) "ordained" by whom. I would prefer to avoid comparisons despite I suppose it now being too late - however I hesitate to lay claim to such labels/titles partly because I don't know when I would have attained apt experience to wear the cloak and also to apply such tags are bound to illicit preconceived notions in both the reader, not to mention in I, that is doing the writing.

I can say I've been a life long seeker of truth; even when I spent as much time tripping over or falling on, the sword of acclaim, as wielding it with anything a kin to prowess or finesse. Perhaps even still my skills might be better suited to a dry-land sort splitting rough cut logs than possessing the necessary sensitivity to perform a delicate surgical extraction (no offence intended to woodsmen or surgeons).

I  am in awe of the heart and soul of those who walked paths of their own - perhaps only to reveal that it never was theirs to begin with; their passion inspires every fibre of my being. But no longer  do I want to reference in my writing what they have said or done; preferring now to both live or die on my own experience.

Can I lay claim to a "calling" when I initially sought to ease my own pain? My short answer (which is practically impossible for me) is I now know the "pain" was not recognizing I was being "called" and therefore ignoring that which sought me, not to anaesthetize, but to love me. To be clear, this in no way  makes me "special" - I believe anyone and everyone can and is "called" but can choose when or if, to listen.

I suppose I would be completely hamstrung - without utilizing some forms of definition particularly as I choose to express through writing; each descriptor simultaneously limiting. At best, I attempt to hold them lightly allowing all expression to have an organic expansive quality.  Having said that I consider my writing to be contemplative; conversely at present, as I write this; rather than the solitude of a "monk's chamber," I am in a downtown coffee shop where an "open mike" is underway. Though I sometimes wear the clothes of an "entertainer" tonight I'm hear (ing) to provide the listening (I had no idea this event was on tonight).  I came alone - though I suppose it could be said I am here along with everyone else. Not being sure how one establishes the truth of a particular claim - I would say nonetheless, that I have mined my aloneness and loneliness long enough, to find the door to solitude and now cherish it's spaciousness and portability.

What a sonically diverse menu of styles, song choices and expression that is being served as I sit here - for me what is worth noting, is the heart and soul of each man (the opening performance was a female vocalist/musician and has been all male since) I watch as each in turn shines that much brighter having extended their offering and receiving the love and appreciation of an audience that is easily out numbered by the collective performers. " Brothers with arms" - musical arms - while I am engaged in writing I am present to my part in the give and take of appreciation. Seamlessly I appreciate them showing up, while extending them appreciation. I can't even begin to ascertain how the energy they are sharing is influencing my expression. I suppose I might take further license to "jam"(or use that as an excuse for my writing that is pretty much free association and "stream of consciousness"all the time; while at the same time, I have an opportunity to express my appreciation - to see to it that these folks know the love that they are (what they do with that later is not my business).

So I'm not sure "it's better to give than receive" I can't tell where one ends and the other begins - I can say it's better than just taking.

All these people are putting "it" on the line - they are risking of themselves. I know the balance between encouragement, confidence building and willingness to show up again. It can't be completely about external approval, at the end of the day internal fortitude might be more important in order to suit up again; but some appreciation along the way is certainly of value. If I find "my world" is lacking in such things as appreciation that might then behoove me to be the supply of appreciation or at least the vessel through which it flows.

It seems to me increasingly unlikely that my part is just to point out what is missing in the world - instead I could be conceiving how I'm going to ensure, that I do my part to fill in the gaps.

The coffee shop was about to close - I expressed my appreciation directly to some of the musicians and walked the short distance to a bus stop. While I waited I observed the atmosphere and changing face of the Victoria streets after dark. There is no question I was richer for my time spent. I pondered the apparent struggle of some that roamed the streets - looking to be seen, wanting to be heard and understood; many angry and in pain. I can best serve by trying to understand and loving rather than judging.

Now at home I consider some of the ideas that went through my head as additional tangents to what I have written. At this point it seems even to me, a stretch to try and weave them in now. Perhaps it is preferable to just allow them to fade into the silence as I allow just that, to envelope me within my sanctuary.


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