Mary Magdalene, a disciple of the Lord:
She said, “I saw the Lord in a vision and I said to him, ‘Lord, I saw you in a vision.’ He answered and said to me, ‘Congratulations to you for not wavering at seeing me. For where the mind is, there is the treasure.’ I said to him, ‘Lord, how does a person who sees a vision see it? With the soul or with the spirit?’ the Savior answered, ‘The Mystic does not see with the soul or with the spirit, but with the mind which exists between these two, That is what sees the vision’” (The Gospel of Mary 7:1-6a).
How does the seer see?
Does anybody know?
The eyes of the spirit,
the eyes of the soul
or perhaps with the mind
that swings between the two.
What does the hearer hear?
Has anybody heard?
A whispering of the spirit,
the sobbings of a soul,
or perhaps with a mind
that imagines them all.
How does the empathy feel?
Does we really know?
A tremor in the spirit,
a disturbance through the soul,
or with the mind
that experiences the whole!
Who knows when IT began, perhaps IT doesn’t even know, for Time never has existed. Maybe it began in a big bang or maybe it just appeared here one glorious day. But we will never know, since we were not there before the ball started its roll. Our memories began shortly after IT happened. This is how our stories came into being.
When the past, present, and future all collapse together into a singularity, this is what is called Eternity.
Human Creation
I saw in a flash
After it ALL BEGAN
A light
An energy
Warm and pure
Love IT is
Truth IT gave
Birth to All the Universe
Life began in the Image of IT
To ITS most precious IT gave
Spirit, Mind, Soul
Just like IT
Human it was
Humanity is
We Were Born
Little silvery images
Living energy
Innocent
Intelligent
Scattering out away from IT
As they traveled
their personalities and egos grew
(bigger and bolder as time went by)
it was me i saw
one of those small bright silvery blobs
then I was back in this bag of flesh and bones
eating a sack lunch in my VW Bug
awed, spent, and full of joy
Was I gone for a million years
it must not have been more
than the flutter of an eyelid
(Spring 1985. Willamina, Oregon ~ Noon)
{Note to a potential reader: I am trying my damndest not to editorialize between the lines, but to lay them down as I wrote them. And at this point I’m doubting whiter or not I should even share my first stuff at all. And hence, lies the intent of this exercise. Humility. But I will share the experience I had when I first composed them. It was as if these thoughts didn’t originate with me. I still have this experience from time to time. Words will come out of my pen, almost automatically written, and I’ll marvel at them. I’ve come to realize that this process is how I connect to that greater transpersonal realm that exists outside of self. This also, sometimes, happens when I perform poetry, participate (and actually engage) in the Eucharistic sacrifice, contra dance, and go to black metal shows}
