Emily Dickenson reminds us, The word is dead when it is said, some say / But I say, it just begins to live that day.
I have found that in each ‘word’ chosen there is a sacred becomingness. A becoming, at each and every articulated moment. A weaving of reality in the now and the becoming. Emergence.
John Shotter reminds me “that Goethe shows us there are mysteries we can ‘enter into’ and begin to find our ‘way around’, there is a ‘poetic’ way of talking and writing – what we may call ‘withness’ writing – we express what we find in our criss-cross journeying over often befogged landscapes. Ways of taking and writing are like signposts erected at recognisable landmarks, ‘pointing to’ what is next in the world of our everyday, practical affairs.”
The poet Eric Ormsby knew this, when he wrote, I have the feeling that words lead a private existence of their own, apart from us, and that when we speak or write, especially in moments of strong emotion, we do little more than hitch a ride on some obliging syllable or accommodating phrase.
And from Fink, language has a life of is own .. (and) while we have the feeling, much of the time, of choosing our words, at times they are chosen for us.
This is the power and the healing of journalling, of blogging. Words crafting, exploring, bringing out lived experience and insight.
Words allow me to know self as flow.
Welcome to my first post in a series of wanderings that will unfold forward and backward through the journey of my life. A journey exploring the nature of being. A journey that has stretched me and those with whom I inhabit our beautiful planet. My site is inspired by the enigmatic words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, taken from his Circles Essay … under every deep, a lower deep opens …
With fellow travellers, I have lowered into the spaces between lightness and the deep. Deep ecology, deep wisdom, deep understanding, deep enquiry, deep faith, deep questioning, deep experience, deep love.
Satish Kumar, a wise elder and pilgrim says, a pilgrim is someone who sees life as a journey, who sees the heart as a sacred home, who sees the universe as a process … we make the outer journey to make the inner journey.
My blogging words will stumble and stutter, sometimes flow and sometimes run dry. My life has been a delight of collecting the sentimental and the precious, and I will post musings, photos, poems and the unexpected. This photo I took while wandering one day through the streets of Rome looking for the Goethe Institute. I delighted in seeing this man rowing through the stone streets of Rome – it spoke to me of a powerful phrase by Gide that I had only just discovered – to find new oceans, one must lose sight of the shore. I delighted in my time with Goethe.
My dream is to explore Thomas Berry’s wisdom that the world is not a collection of objects but a communion of subjects. Let the communion begin.