Thursday, January 7, 2010
This morning I sat in bed with my coffee and treated myself to some Pablo Neruda jewels. This one was a balm to my worried, jobless heart, and so I wanted to share it. Maybe it will speak to you as it did to me.
Now we will count to twelve
and we will keep still.
This one time upon the earth,
let's not speak any language,
let's stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be a delicious moment,
without hurry, without locomotives,
all of us would be together
in a sudden uneasiness.
The fishermen in the cold sea
would do no harm to the whales
and the peasant gathering salt
would look at his torn hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars of gas, wars of fire,
victories without survivors,
would put on clean clothing
and would walk alongside their brothers
in the shade, without doing a thing.
What I want shouldn't be confused
with final inactivity:
life alone is what matters,
I want nothing to do with death.
If we weren't unanimous
about keeping our lives so much in motion,
if we could do nothing for once,
perhaps a great silence would
interrupt this sadness,
this never understanding ourselves
and threatening ourselves with death,
perhaps the earth is teaching us
when everything seems to be dead
and then everything is alive.
Now I will count to twelve
and you keep quiet and I'll go.
(The end-that's not in the poem, it's just the end. Back to the Emily channel.)
All I want is this stillness, where the truth about life and the earth can be felt. I know people worry about me because I have no job, no money, no savings. But I think all of that stuff is secondary. Of course it matters because we live on this earth in this way and need food, shelter, and cute boots. But it's not what really matters.
What really matters is finding the truth and light inside ourselves and spreading it to the world. I am finding that truth and light, and thanking the stars that I have the space and time and opportunity to do that. I haven't found a way/am not ready yet to spread the beauty that I find to the world, but I will when I'm ready. I'm not sure if that will be through singing or writing or teaching or something that I can't even see yet, but it will happen. When the time is right.