Then the Prose….

(Because I don’t want to force the poetry, many of my poem days will also have a doubtless boringly pedantic bit to follow on.)

Why do we like what we like?

Have you every thought of why you choose what you choose, specially things you choose over and over again.  Or things/people you choose that seem at odds to deeply held beliefs?  Yet you hold them precious and won’t give them up?  Why?  Why?  Why?

I am always asking “Why?”  I get in trouble for it, too.  “You think too much!”  “You can’t ask ‘why’!”  “That’s none of your business!”

DreamcatcherI contend that if we are to be human beings and humane beings, that is our ONLY real business — to find out the whys of what we do.  All those English class “What, where, who, when, and how” questions are utterly inferior to the Big Question: Why?  Because why we do a thing/love a thing/hate a thing determines the what, where, who, when, and how!

This morning, the Minotaur husband and I made our mental rounds of the labyrinths of our lives, discussing trauma and recovery among other subjects.  I have long created techniques of healing and repairing of broken bits of self – I now call these “rituals of restoration.”  Sometimes these are unconscious things, sometimes artfully deliberate.  Some are charmingly childlike and utterly undetected for what they are by even the closest people in our lives.

Why, for instance, do I love kaleidoscopes?  Because they look like beautiful wholes made out of shattered bits.  They tell me I can pull my own shattered bits into a beautiful whole.  From within the beautiful glittering field of a kaleidoscopic image, I can compare my personal microcosmic existence to that macrocosmic entirety to see where I join the “dance” and where I stand aside as observer, or critic, (or priestess?) until it is time for me to step back into the music.


Poetry Month – One

gold heart beadsUnseen, unspoken,
Rituals restorative,
Mystery unfolds!

April is poetry month!  So I shall torture you all with a daily poem – or I shall try.  Usually I do haiku because I can almost always squeeze out seventeen syllables.

I am considering a theme for the next couple weeks, if not the entire month.  My near silence here and at other blog sites has been occasioned by some deep work and self-analysis.  Now and again I will struggle for weeks on end and then suddenly make some sort of intuitive leap forward.  I think my “winging” work over the last few weeks helped a lot, giving my imagination and focus permission to take flight.

Understand, when I say “ritual” above in today’s poem, I don’t mean drooping sleeves and  candles a-light in the night.  I mean something quite humanistic: a reaching through the individual intricacies of fight or flight into the macrocosm of humanity at large to come back bearing linkages that illuminate dark corners with laser-like precision.  How I can (if I can) incorporate those into seventeen syllables remains to be seen.  I think that might be altogether too forced.  (And yes, I categoried  this in “pagan life” because my ideals ARE pagan — very Un-One, if you get my drift.)

So, we shall see.