“Its substance was known to me. The crawling infinity of colours, the chaos of textures that went into each strand of that eternally complex tapestry…each one resonated under the step of the dancing mad god, vibrating and sending little echoes of bravery, or hunger, or architecture, or argument, or cabbage or murder or concrete across the aether. The weft of starlings’ motivations connected to the thick, sticky strand of a young thief’s laugh. The fibres stretched taut and glued themselves solidly to a third line, its silk made from the angles of seven flying buttresses to a cathedral roof. The plait disappeared into the enormity of possible spaces.
Every intention, interaction, motivation, every colour, every body, every action and reaction, every piece of physical reality and the thoughts that it engendered, every connection made, every nuanced moment of history and potentiality, every toothache and flagstone, every emotion and birth and banknote, every possible thing ever is woven into that limitless, sprawling web.
It is without beginning or end. It is complex to a degree that humbles the mind. It is a work of such beauty that my soul wept...
..I have danced with the spider. I have cut a caper with the dancing mad god.”
― Perdido Street Station
We are both spirit and body. All creation is both spirit and body. We know things we could not know. We experience things there are no explanations for. Our brain can only remember so much; there are things that get left out, and things that fall out if we have not made extrasensory actions to park in the right memory space. We hear, all the time, about becoming more aware and ways to do so. There are mysteries and the mysterious. We have more than selective hearing. We see light but not the vibrations of things. We know plants make sound and yet , for the most of us, we do not hear it. We think we see the whole picture, but what we are seeing is refracted light. Do we even really know what we look like? We know we have bones, but we only see them in x-rays. There are things we cannot know. That is the way of things in the web of life.
We do not always see connections, nor are we conscious of connections, for the most part. The more sense we use to know something, the more we know things. We know that vibrations can be seen with proper instruments, but most of us do not see, hear, feel, taste, the whole of anything. Imagine the things we are not conscious of, nor can understand at a sensory level.
There are patterns in creation that we do not see or may not be aware of. Were you aware that your aura has color and that it vibrates? Were you aware that our soul does not fit exactly inside this skin covering? Have you ever wondered why we naturally sit a certain number of inches away from someone else? Are you aware why we do not like, cannot stand, someone to point their finger in our face?
It is said that we have spiritual umbilical cords that connect us to First Mother? All things are connected in ways we cannot even imagine. We do not see past our idea that everything in life is separate. It is not. There is a web of life.
We were, sometimes, so busy with education, that we forgot natural learning, learning that our ancestors were highly educated in. Are we losing that connection as well as our ability to connect with the whole web of life? It is said that once Creator was finished creating, he had only so much energy in the creation that there was room for no more, and so, when something leaves, that space is filled up with another energy form. That means, there is a constant level of creative energy. That is a beautiful thought, in that, when a plant dies, a whole species becomnes extinct, that energy is given to something, someone, somewhere else in his Creation. When I die, something will be made of my energy. Am I putting in the work to be the right kind of energy? Just imagine.
A pen friend has written the most magnificently soulful poem about just what I am talking about. His grace and dignity, and, oh, his pen...
Birthday Poem
Soon, I will be born -
perhaps as an Aardvark or activist,
a Bobcat or bear, a Coyote or Cottontail.
Maybe I will be a Dog or Damselfly.
I hope that I will motate, walk, crawl,
swim or fly, that I have a voice to
sing, cry, celebrate my place on the
Earth or in the sky.
I might be an Earthworm or Emu,
a Frog in the spring orgy, a Feral Cat.
What if I'm Gooniebird again, or a
Giraffe, waiting for the next Dali
to paint me?
That would be cool!
I could be a Hummingbird, beloved
Bumblebird, or a Heron, a fisherman
again, any one of a million insects,
an island, a Junebug under the porchlight,
the last jungle.
I might even be a Kangaroo, a King
Salmon, a Lion, or, yet again, a lout,
a Mouse, a Mayfly in the frenzy, a
Naked Mole rat, a Nighthawk at the
diner, an Osprey or Opossum in all her
ugly finery.
Birthdays are a wonder. Under the sky,
on or in the Earth, another birth: something
awakens to take in Mother's gifts with awe.
Could be, I show up as a Paper Wasp,
unwelcome at any outdoor outing,
a Pheobe, a Quail, a Quetzal, a bird of which
you've never heard, a Rhino or Rat,
a Sand Shark or a Sawfish, a Tiger,
burning bright, a Tasmanian Devil, a
Uinta Ground Squirrel, a Ulysses Butterfly,
a Vampire bat, a Vulture, a singing Wolf,
a Wombat, an Xanthippe's Shrew, an Xolo, a
Yellow Baboon, a Yellow - Bellied Marmot, a
Zebra or Zonkey - resulting from a Zebra crazy
Donkey.
Who knows, I might even be a star, another
light looking down on all of my Mother's
fine citizens.
I'm hoping for Coyote...
© Rob Ganson
What kind of energy are you? If you come back as a different form of energy, what form would you wish, or think, or dream of coming back as?
Nice writings.
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