Neruda Ode to Clothes & the environment

Ode to the Clothes

Every morning you wait,
clothes, over a chair,
to fill yourself with
my vanity, my love,
my hope, my body.
Barely
risen from sleep,
I relinquish the water,
enter your sleeves,
my legs look for
the hollows of your legs,
and so embraced
by your indefatigable faithfulness
I rise, to tread the grass,
enter poetry,
consider through the windows,
the things,
the men, the women,
the deeds and the fights
go on forming me,
go on making me face things
working my hands,
opening my eyes,
using my mouth,
and so,
clothes,
I too go forming you,
extending your elbows,
snapping your threads,
and so your life expands
in the image of my life.
In the wind
you billow and snap
as if you were my soul,
at bad times
you cling
to my bones,
vacant, for the night,
darkness, sleep
populate with their phantoms
your wings and mine.
I wonder
if one day
a bullet
from the enemy
will leave you stained with my blood
and then
you will die with me
or one day
not quite
so dramatic
but simple,
you will fall ill,
clothes,
with me,
grow old
with me, with my body
and joined
we will enter
the earth.
Because of this
each day
I greet you
with reverence and then
you embrace me and I forget you,
because we are one
and we will go on
facing the wind, in the night,
the streets or the fight,
a single body,
one day, one day, some day, still.

– Pablo Neruda

Poems that take the mundanity and animate it, supply magic to our every day. Pablo Neruda could do this; he had that particular talent. When I read about clothes as he writes about them in his poem above, I think about a time when clothing was made better, when items were sewn to last. Objects and tools used to have more value over the longer term. I long for those days, when we had such great care for our possessions, not in a purely material sense, but in such a way where there was longevity in the relationship–which to me, is a little bit different from attachment.

To me, this appreciation for these material items in our lives goes along with my background and appreciation for animism, how I consider that all of life is considered ‘alive.’ The official definition for animism is, “the belief in a supernatural power that organizes and animates the material universe.” To me, however, the power is more magical, and need not be supernatural. Again recently I was reminiscing of the story of the Velveteen Rabbit, the rabbit who was ‘made real’ by love.

To me, animism as a philosophy is more harmonious and congruent with nature. It is in sync with material durability, in communion with time. In our expendable economies today, we have a “use once and throw away” culture. While I enjoyed seeing all the Halloween decorations this year (more than usual), I couldn’t help but think of the world’s trash problem, and how desperately we need to change our ways in society and in our economies. As an anthropologist, I would say that cultural change is necessitated first. I get excited when we learn about new bacterias or enzymes that can break-down plastic and resolve the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, but we are still far from having the intellectual wealth and intelligence of our planet focused on solving these problems. Many people don’t know, for example, that it rains plastic.

My post is an appeal and a wish to “put the mental and emotional energy” for the planet on solving these problems. We need to have solutions for protecting our Earth, and we need to support our scientists. Yes, each person can make a difference by using re-usable items, and reducing their foot-print; however, I think we have to highlight using our voices, and sharing our hearts so that more people are inspired about what can be done.

Thank you for listening!

Happy Peppering!

working it out

science has this passion

to discover,
or re-discover

it depends

on who is looking,
what is personified.

but,

when being the butterfly
(or chuang tzu?),

feeling the metal pin slice
through dried wings,

and the suffocation of
entrapment,

that is, having to be a ‘thing’

as on a shelf, labeled, glassed,
obtainable,

found a niche,
now perform well…

if you are a butterfly under glass,
then play dead.

takes the fun and the
joy out of the science of

discovery, out of the
playtime of role-play

and temporary assignments,

exploration, even quantum theory.

we all know nightingales
like to be free, as do

butterflies and whispers

poems don’t love

to be scrutinized nor analyzed
for their psychic material

poems are more like butterflies

than psyches, more like butterflies
than like freud

than like rorschach,

than like LSD.

a poem is not an neurotransmitter,
nor a stimulated receptor, nor the electrical stimulus,
nor calcium

but it can affect you.
social media affects dopamine,
like crazy!

check your ventromedial prefrontal cortex

maybe a non-sequitur, but all things
have namable parts that don’t add up
always, but are still whole processes,
like healing
rarely makes any sense,
exactly

albeit the words are happening

thick, fluid, magical,

ungraspable.

untouchable-tangible

symbols have not 1:1
correlation-symmetry
more like 1: ad infinitum

we, who need to be free
take our freedom

in the moments of our breath,
use dashes, and make dashes,
or take our time,
on purpose.

find truth in
chuang tzu, in

freud, even, if necessary…

poetry as word
isn’t fake, nor outrightly
understandable.
it doesn’t have to be beautiful!

not all poems want to be
delivered with song

but you can see an internal
frequency,

even a trapped butterfly

may effect chaos theory
for theories are more easily

affected than are

the winds, with the momentum
of, say, a hurricane numbered 5.

my prayers were heard,
even when i didn’t pray

the way, i was expected to, with
the authorized format, given to me

by those who would punish me,

by those who would punish anybody,
by those who do not know self-love.

chuang tzu is not my god/goddess,
i reject capital letters right now
except for this one,

Process –

but even so, i yearn for another
language, to facilitate this meaning

***********************************************************************
This poem was written in the attempt to recover the creative adolescent
archetype, when expression was honestly exploring and feeling like the systems of the world were restraining forces, rather than assisting and engendering forces, a great questioning. It’s about being awkward, and being as a poem at the same time. When poetry didn’t have to be about rhyme or song, tradition – nor be didactic in any way. When poetry was about experimentation and “finding oneself” in the world. When poetry was about the journey and not the destination.

Also, this is integration work, and not meant to be viewed as a polished piece, final product, or current commentary. This is art-in-action.

Finally, once I found a coffee-shop, where at the readings, the host’s poetry sounded surrealist/da-da, and I felt like I fit in there at times.

My Rainbow Path

Image from globalminds.com

Each sister has said to me

At least once:

“I saw a rainbow,

And it reminded me of you.”

REAL –LY?

A rainbow,

I was taught, was God’s promise

Never to be mean to all of us, ever again!

(at least not by flood)

Maybe,

I drew all those rainbows

From ages 3 thru 8,

Because life wasn’t always easy,

and people: They

need colorful bridges to escape onto /(

Take refuge In.)\ On. ^Above^ _or_ Under the Rain…

Look at the pictures;

I thought it

was the #Number of

Rainbows that could staircase the Way Out-

UP, Around ~

Each Arc

Another Step, a Progression

What I see now is that ‘rainbow’ was

simply MY FAVORITE COLOR.

The early years:

Rainbow Native Rainbow with Trees

*End in Light* ~ Introducing poetry by Kai Coggin from her new book: Periscope Heart

Dear Friends, Readers, Co-hearts, Star-lovers,

This year I was blessed to be reunited with another poet of the heart & viscera. She is Kai Coggin. From the beginning, when I read her words, it was confirmed for me that Spirit had put me on the path of meeting and connecting with soul family; and she is One. She’s one of those co-hearts that transcends space and time. Our connection was quick in understanding; and roots run deep. She’s given me permission to share with you now one of my first favorite poems from her new book. It’s called, ‘End in Light’ p.99  Thank you, Kai, for sharing the gift of your voice and with all your heart!

⌘  End in Light

A Ghazal

Every footstep on the ancient wise path is worth the fight.
There is no other true purpose in life than to end in light.

Deviation is normal – not every journey starts out right,
but there is an internal compass steering to end in light.

Truth blindness and deaf ears defeat your heart’s flying,
everything is open – the source begins and ends in light.

Your first heartbeat is a star being born in the blackness.
Each beat and breath brings you closer to ending in light.

I have lived through the chaos of becoming illumined,
shedding false skins and shells, screaming to end in light.

This can be a dancing of spirit if your heart can break through,
be the ever virgin song that aches to fulfill the ending in light.

Life is a burning ground, a filling of a chalice that you hold inside.
My dear, fledgling soul – death is not the only way to end in light.

Let go of what you have been forced to believe is your self,
become everything that you know you are, that bends in light

and is not broken, but transforms into prisms and eleven rainbows,
and knows “I AM” becomes everything you are that ends in light.

 

Peace Crane from Kai

Kai sent me this beautiful peace crane pictured above. She’s an amazing person, author, and educator. She has touched my heart. The edges of the book’s pages are already dog-eared with love.

I’m not alone in celebrating her…

“I first met Kai Coggin as a blazing fire of energy, a supernova educator in the Houston high schools.  Now she is on her light path, teaching through her own poetry.  Her words are spells, chants, prayers, invocations.  Thank you, Kai, for work of the spirit, for illuminations like desert thunder and a night sky of benedictions.

Sandra Cisneros, Internationally Acclaimed Author of The House on Mango Street”

Please visit her at http://www.kaicoggin.com/ and explore her wonderful site where you can read more reviews like the one above, and purchase her book.