Are you sad?

A few days ago, a friend said to me, “Are you ok? You look sad. Are you sad?”

I hadn’t been thinking about sadness or happiness. I assumed that, given the general emotional place of my life at the moment, I was very, very happy, in a deep-inside way. But I guess I’m just one of those people who still feel overwhelming sadness in the midst of great joy. There’s never one or the other, both are always present. My life is in a general state of gratitude and joy. Not happiness, which, to me, is transient.

There’s still a pervading sadness. I can feel it, touch it. It’s always there, will always be there. It’s not really mine as in of me, made of my thoughts, harboured in my heart. It’s just a quality of the Darkness That Is. Maybe this is why addicts are addicts. Even the middle of their joy, they still feel the pain and they want to run away to euphoria, even artificial euphoria. I don’t know. I think many artists, poets in particular, are given over to dark as much as light. They become conduits for darker things that others put away, hide in religion or mysticism, compartmentalize, refuse to talk about, pretend aren’t there. A poet, a true poet, can’t put those things away. Can’t hide. Won’t hide. Pain and sorrow and sadness becomes the texture of their life just as much as the heights of love, joy and pleasure.

I know people who think that because they’ve felt pain or sadness, they know what I’m talking about. That the dark is woven into their lives in the same way. Not so. Everyone has felt pain or sadness, but only a few dare the madness that comes with constantly looking into the dark. Are you willing to feel the sadness for the rest of your life, even in your happiest moment? Are you sure? Do you want to leave your wedding to walk into the forest and cry? Do you want to hold your first child and weep for the heartbreak inside the joy? Do you want to walk the edge where oxymorons pave the road and paradox falls from the sky? Is that the landscape of your life?

Do you want the constant need to get away from all people, while needing them immensely? Do you want the agony of never being able to reconcile the two?

Am I sad? Yes. Why do I cry? I have no idea. It doesn’t matter. The question “Why?” is so irrelevant to me in this afternoon of my life. I don’t care why. I just do. And within the tears lies the pain of the world, the salvation of my soul. But salvation from what and for what eludes me. There’s nothing rational about it. I abandoned rational life a long time ago. All that is left is the vast landscape of the mind when you refuse to put things into categories. Into compartments. The Wild Things spill over into your work day, gnashing their terrible teeth and rolling their terrible eyes. And you leave your day behind to join the Wild Rumpus.

Or maybe I’m a liar. Maybe all people who feel that “something” in their soul are all liars. All of us. Maybe we just need to give voice to our delusions. Our wild imaginings that darkness has shape and beauty too. Maybe we’ll never get it right, never understand, and are doomed to keep trying, like this “Glimpse into the Beyond.” (jca, I love this.)

Get used to it

i guess i just have to get used to not sleeping, but it would certainly be nice to get a full night of sleep. who knew good things could make you this crazy?

at least i’m writing everyday. lol.

on monsoon nights
the air is full of redolent
desire
breezes sigh
curling around your ears
like the tendrils
of your lover’s hair
rain falls
pregnant with life
with love
you see where he leans
against the damp
walls
the trees blow
swaying like seductive
dancers in the downpour
his voice rolls
across you
thunder over
a parched plain
like a bird
suddenly seeing freedom
your heart leaves
you behind
to stand wondering
as rain kisses
you

Tolkien Reading Day

Each year the Tolkien Society celebrates Tolkien Reading Day on March 25th (Sauron’s final downfall). Wellinghall, our smial here in the GTA is meeting up for an afternoon of food, laughter, reading and discussion. If you like Tolkien, consider this an invite to come on down (up or over) and join us. We’ll be meeting at 1.00 this Saturday (March 24) at the Pickle Barrel, Yorkdale Mall (in Toronto). It will also be our first anniversary of smial-hood. 🙂

The group is open to anyone and everyone, of all ages. And you don’t need to be a fanatic or a scholar, although we love those. 😉  In the spirit of the day, what we do is we each select a favourite passage, poem, or song from any of Tolkien’s works and read it. Even our Entings get into the spirit. So, if you’re interested, bookmark your favourite passage(s) and let us know over at the forum so that we can make sure we have enough seats for everyone. Hope to see you there.

The White Tree sighing

(A song of Gondor)

Children, do you hear?
In the breeze, beyond the meadow?
Carried in the echo of tears
the echoes of time,
it is the White Tree sighing.

Love, can you feel
the weight of blessedness,
the love of the gods?
From the first Silver Tree
to the blossom in the courtyard,
the breath of light
leads us all.

Borne afar on winds of sorrow
past the death of hope,
knowing that its end would come
rejoicing all the more in life
White Tree! White Tree!
I hear your ancient sigh.

Flowers bloom
and flowers wither;
leaves flutter to the black water.
The tree dies aged and ageless
while in the mountain snows
a sapling sprouts
sad seeds, waiting
quietly breathing desolation.

My liege, my liege
can you lead the way?
Can life o’ercome crawling
death in the darkness?
Yes, for yours are the hands
of healing and of light;
pure, silver, as the eldest
of all the lamps of Heaven.

Children, do you hear?
Wafting on the sound of love,
Tree and King,
Love and Life,
joined at last together again.
This joy you hear is
the White Tree sighing.

The dragon

the dragon peers at me
asking questions with his eyes
beckoning me to come closer
i should hate him
he is my enemy – or so i’ve been told
but i can’t see the malice
cannot hear the venom
he sees me as i am
and it is intriguing
gently he warms me
with breath that could scorch
this flesh to vapour
if he chose it
what do i make of his choice
mercy instead of death
understanding instead of anger
i can speak no words
for they are too rough and
bound to this world
my mind answers him in
thought pure as crystal
and he laughs
i am so near to him now
that glowing eye focused
on all my smallness
all my weakness
but he does not move
to him, i am intriguing
softly he sends tendrils
of thought down my shoulders
cascading like golden
droplets inside my skin
i drink in his burning gaze
before i approach
and lay my palm on copper scales
with touch we are one
it is the way of dragons
so i’ve been told
we will always dream of one another
a silent kiss in my mind
so gentle, so gentle
i cannot stop my tears as i
draw close to him
to hear his heart beating
he leaves only love behind
when he flies into the rising moon

Falling in the twilight

I wish I could be funny and light right now. If there is a God, he/she/it knows I’m trying. But there is so much, so much on my mind. I put away the post I did the other day but I’ll bring over this bit:

Love is the border around the known map. Don’t play there for beyond that place, there be dragons. Be sure or begone.

It’s wrong actually. Love, real love, not the infatuation, obsession thing, is the land around the border around the known map. It’s that twilight place. No wonder I’ve been falling over my face, tripping over Faerie every 5 seconds. This place where we dare to dare, where we don’t just dream of the adventure – we become the adventure. This place is love’s playground. And it’s scary to me.

What would you do if the same moon shone on you twice? Would you know? If you got a second chance to see everything you had missed about those silky beams of silver, would you look? What if there was danger in the looking? What if to look meant to be profoundly changed, opened like a night flower – a flower that might die in the light of day. Would you look? If you knew that you would be so incredibly blessed by what lies within the moonbeams, but your heart would break, would you open yourself? Would you dare to dream of that second chance?

And if your reality and your dream merged? Where would you be?

there is an angel on my pathway
and he ushers in the end of times
the end of me and all i know
the start of something completely new
but i don’t want to end
i quieted my heart with so many lullabyes
i don’t want it to wake up
and wound me for sport
i don’t want to be reminded
that i’ve built a house of cards
where i hide my love inside
but he beckons and i can’t stop
i walk to him and find out
i never left his side