Over the last few days, I've been drawn
into contemplating a new perspective on the long dark night of the soul. In
search of some reasonable perspectives on the rapid (sometimes painful) and
seemingly endless spiritual awakenings of our times, my mind wanders
optimistically through a landscape in which great pain always leads to a
greater depth of spiritual awareness, compassion and connection with The Divine.
Buddhists might refer to this phenomenon as "turning poison into
medicine". Oh yes, every healer knows it. Everyone who shines brightly understands
the grit that makes the pearl - the pressure that creates the diamond.
Yet, how do we speak of this pain, in
these times of positive thinking and 'can do'/'go to'/law-of-attraction-fuelled
sunshine and lollipops philosophies, without being considered to be making a
virtue of suffering? My guide, Peter, answers with his characteristically generous,
ever-loving and endlessly patient tenderness.
"You don't concern yourself with
this. You simply speak your truth for those who will hear it and be comforted."
Every artist or mystic knows that sometimes
great works of transcendent beauty and depth are the positive by-product of unbearable
pain. Pain that was not meant to be borne. Pain that was always meant to be transmuted
into something sublime when the bearer could find no other outlet for it. No
other source of comfort than 'the everlasting arm', when the back against the
wall suddenly sprouts wings and learns how to fly up to Heaven.
This morning I, once again, hesitated to
share these words, for fear of misunderstanding. I then felt myself being
slowly drawn into the worlds of Billie Holiday and Charlie Parker, as my guides
encouraged me listen to some good music and study their stories again - not as
a lifestyle guide but as a reminder of something real and infinitely more
eternal than life itself. Well, after a long and delicious detour down YouTube avenue,
via 52nd Street (when there were so many other things I "should" be
doing with my time) I was reminded by the lives of two of my all-time favourite
inspirers that beautiful roses grow even in the stoniest ground and white
gardenias cannot be tainted by blood, sweat or tears.
There's comfort to be found in the chaos;
there's inspiration hiding in the cracks. Yet, these are the days when a deep
and abiding connection with the Divine is discovered far more easily through
meditation than by medication. The purest and truest sources of artistic
expression are all around us in the form of a multitude of guides and angelic inspirers,
if we could only learn how to hear their precious utterances.
How the heck does one describe the
experience of receiving these beautiful inspirations and flirting constantly
with a gradual merging with God?
Here's my brave attempt.
This poem is for all the beautiful
writers, poets, artists, musicians, healers and mystics I am so very blessed to
know in this lifetime. Channels of Divine creativity and love, I know what you
have given, even when all we see are the results - those timely and much
deserved 'overnight success' stories. Even when you have nothing left but those
unheard and unfinished symphonies that call to you and tug on your sleeves in the
dead of the long dark night, in spite of your daily duties, I see you.
Thank you for the beautiful medicine you
have made for the world by transmuting the poison of your pain. Thank Heaven for you! Your time is now. The world is ready for something
beautiful.
Inspiration
Hungry for Heaven,
I struggle to describe its truth
Painting pictures with words -
Holograms from my mind -
I bring forth fruits
Longing to hear its music,
I curl into a tune of my own
and offer it up for open ears
And here I go
Searching for love on the dark planet
Endlessly seeking
Angels in clouds
Jesus in shrouds
Screaming out loud
"I surrender"
I fall in with the sound
Knowing that
With every drop of be bop
Every comma, colon, full stop
Every waft of heartache
Drum break, remake
I am travelling lighter..
Four to the bar
Leaning in closer
To the endless song
And every ignorance spurs me, gently,
Consequently on.
To deep restoration?
Soul celebration?
Oh, sweet inspiration,
Beyond satiation
Rejection strengthens my complexion
Nothing grates
Nor penetrates
Bemusement waits
In some transcendent state
As if by chance
It draws me in
This incidental reckoning
These God-kissed vapours
Glistening..
I fall, obediently, in
Tumbling deeper ..
Slipping now,
these soporific drips,
into The River of You...
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