Monday, July 21, 2008
String Quartet
It is a mess at first
The bow strikes and glides across a single string and back again
The note wobbles for a moment
Then settles to a steady call
Joined then by the rocking and striated rhythms
Of another set of strings
And another
Then another
The tatters of sound assemble
Like clouds and squalls
Of a sea storm
Then silence before the storm
Slowly comes the rain
The thunder
The wind
Singing softly its message
We are awash in a sea
Of harmonies and melodies
Here it is useless to navigate
This storm will take us where it wills
Surrender is always
The best option
When accosted
By beauty
-Theo
NOTE: The local Eastern Music Festival brought four young people to play before a group I attended last week. I was inspired to write this piece after their tuning and playing.
Posted by: Theophany at 9:08 PM
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It is a mess at first
The bow strikes and glides across a single string and back again
The note wobbles for a moment
Then settles to a steady call
Joined then by the rocking and striated rhythms
Of another set of strings
And another
Then another
The tatters of sound assemble
Like clouds and squalls
Of a sea storm
Then silence before the storm
Slowly comes the rain
The thunder
The wind
Singing softly its message
We are awash in a sea
Of harmonies and melodies
Here it is useless to navigate
This storm will take us where it wills
Surrender is always
The best option
When accosted
By beauty
-Theo
NOTE: The local Eastern Music Festival brought four young people to play before a group I attended last week. I was inspired to write this piece after their tuning and playing.
Posted by: Theophany at 9:08 PM
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Thursday, July 17, 2008
Blue Hole-Walk and Talk
Your now seldom trodden paths fall under new feet, withstanding each impact of soul and sole, bearing up upon unyielding and ancient rock the weight of another exploration, an adventuring spirit, another of the millions of creatures that you have felt wander across your very spine, and with thoughtless query your impatient question of 800,000 years rises again...
Will this be the one? Will this be only another impertinent and transient creature that errantly uses the earthy mystery of this space for gathering dirt and stone, or ripping foliage aside for consumption, or splattering in fury, another's blood upon you hoping you will shroud its evil form detection? Or will this one impede the conquest and domination long enough to pause momentarily, stand still enough - long enough to allow your archaic message to creep from the core of this vain of our origination and stir as deeply within them as it resides within you, the tendril of impervious and undaunted myth that is your message?
NOTE: Written after walking the Blue Hole path in Bermuda.
Posted by: Theophany at 8:32 PM
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Your now seldom trodden paths fall under new feet, withstanding each impact of soul and sole, bearing up upon unyielding and ancient rock the weight of another exploration, an adventuring spirit, another of the millions of creatures that you have felt wander across your very spine, and with thoughtless query your impatient question of 800,000 years rises again...
Will this be the one? Will this be only another impertinent and transient creature that errantly uses the earthy mystery of this space for gathering dirt and stone, or ripping foliage aside for consumption, or splattering in fury, another's blood upon you hoping you will shroud its evil form detection? Or will this one impede the conquest and domination long enough to pause momentarily, stand still enough - long enough to allow your archaic message to creep from the core of this vain of our origination and stir as deeply within them as it resides within you, the tendril of impervious and undaunted myth that is your message?
NOTE: Written after walking the Blue Hole path in Bermuda.
Labels: adventures, feelings, words
Posted by: Theophany at 8:32 PM
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Monday, June 30, 2008
Writing Work
A friend of mine has recently helped me get motivated to begin a writing routine. I have a story (maybe a book?) that I started several years ago. I have set a time to write for 30 minutes each day.
It is strange to me how difficult it is to do the work of writing. I love creating the story and the task of putting it to words isn’t that difficult, but something stands in the way of spontaneously writing.
When I first began this work, it was self compelling. I had to make myself stop and do something else. Somewhere along the way, the internal motivation waned and I found myself choosing to do other things.
I believe I am about a good tale and it smacks of a specific genre’ and has a bit of originality. It is worth telling. It is a tale that is alive within me.
So, tell me dear reader, why is it such work to write? What is your take on the passion of creativity turning to the labor of necessity?
Posted by: Theophany at 9:01 PM
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A friend of mine has recently helped me get motivated to begin a writing routine. I have a story (maybe a book?) that I started several years ago. I have set a time to write for 30 minutes each day.
It is strange to me how difficult it is to do the work of writing. I love creating the story and the task of putting it to words isn’t that difficult, but something stands in the way of spontaneously writing.
When I first began this work, it was self compelling. I had to make myself stop and do something else. Somewhere along the way, the internal motivation waned and I found myself choosing to do other things.
I believe I am about a good tale and it smacks of a specific genre’ and has a bit of originality. It is worth telling. It is a tale that is alive within me.
So, tell me dear reader, why is it such work to write? What is your take on the passion of creativity turning to the labor of necessity?
Posted by: Theophany at 9:01 PM
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Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Dolphin Musing
Using a writers prompt, I penned these words. May they bring you some of the peace that they brought me this day.
"Write a one-page description of what it would be like to swim with dolphins."
It seems like more than a few years ago. I stood on the bridge spanning the inlet at St. Augustine, Fl. Statuary of regal lions poised themselves as sentries guarding access, an access now in no need of guards, concrete or otherwise, a mere gateway from one tourist infested section of the town to another.
That evening, late, I stood on the crest of the low bridge and gazed blankly into the grey swirl of sea below. Small caps of sea foam occasionally formed and then faded, improbable punctuations, a writer's words quickly deleted returning the emptiness to the page. I had been unable to write for weeks. My mind blank, no, so filled with images and sensations falling over each other in chaos that no assembly of words could seem to contain my thoughts. So there the formless confusion of my mind was met by its reflection there in the dark sea.
The first one almost escaped my attention. A thin slice of light grey broke the ocean plain, a small twist of foam, and it was gone. I strained to see. I heard the song. At first I thought it was the wind carrying children's voices, softly to my ears. Then I saw them, dolphins. They swam below me, hiding just beneath the sea's veil, shadows, wisps of silver form. I leaned over the railing, dangerously far. They circled below me, entwining among themselves. There where three of them, two adults and a small one. They seemed unaware of anything but their own dance. What grace and poise they created with movements so fluid and quick; touches so gentle and tender.
I fell. Somehow my foothold failed and although I grabbed hold of the rail, my body already hung over the side and my one handed grip wasn’t enough. I tumbled the few feet and into the surf. I felt the sting of the water's chill. It had barely warmed from these early spring days. Something brushed my side and I felt myself being pushed toward the surface. I lifted my head to the night air, rubbed the salt water from my eyes, and as I began to tread water, was astonished to see the smallest of the trio of dolphins floating just inches from my face. It rolled onto one side, exposing one eye to the surface and lifting a fin as if to wave. I laughed. I heard them sing again. A gentle high note that seemed to hang in the air and settle in my soul, even more, it settled my soul.
The two adults were on each side of me now, and as I shifted my weight and began floating on my back, I could feel them moving around me. Soon, there dance included me. I joined them. I swam gently, rolling my body with the shift of the currents, allowing my hands to touch them and then the sea. I closed my eyes and listened to their song and swam with them.
Perhaps it was the caress of the sea, or the magic of the moment, or maybe just the release of my daily constraints, but, my head spun in delight and I felt a drug-like euphoria rise within my being. I was at once lost in bliss and fully present with myself.
Later, they bid me farewell and I felt a bit of sadness as they vanished into the darkness of the night and the vastness of the sea. I know that I found something that night. For even now, years later, I can close my eyes, breathe in the smell of the sea, and hear their song, the song I learned the night I swam with the dolphins.
Posted by: Theophany at 9:47 PM
|
Using a writers prompt, I penned these words. May they bring you some of the peace that they brought me this day.
"Write a one-page description of what it would be like to swim with dolphins."
It seems like more than a few years ago. I stood on the bridge spanning the inlet at St. Augustine, Fl. Statuary of regal lions poised themselves as sentries guarding access, an access now in no need of guards, concrete or otherwise, a mere gateway from one tourist infested section of the town to another.
That evening, late, I stood on the crest of the low bridge and gazed blankly into the grey swirl of sea below. Small caps of sea foam occasionally formed and then faded, improbable punctuations, a writer's words quickly deleted returning the emptiness to the page. I had been unable to write for weeks. My mind blank, no, so filled with images and sensations falling over each other in chaos that no assembly of words could seem to contain my thoughts. So there the formless confusion of my mind was met by its reflection there in the dark sea.
The first one almost escaped my attention. A thin slice of light grey broke the ocean plain, a small twist of foam, and it was gone. I strained to see. I heard the song. At first I thought it was the wind carrying children's voices, softly to my ears. Then I saw them, dolphins. They swam below me, hiding just beneath the sea's veil, shadows, wisps of silver form. I leaned over the railing, dangerously far. They circled below me, entwining among themselves. There where three of them, two adults and a small one. They seemed unaware of anything but their own dance. What grace and poise they created with movements so fluid and quick; touches so gentle and tender.
I fell. Somehow my foothold failed and although I grabbed hold of the rail, my body already hung over the side and my one handed grip wasn’t enough. I tumbled the few feet and into the surf. I felt the sting of the water's chill. It had barely warmed from these early spring days. Something brushed my side and I felt myself being pushed toward the surface. I lifted my head to the night air, rubbed the salt water from my eyes, and as I began to tread water, was astonished to see the smallest of the trio of dolphins floating just inches from my face. It rolled onto one side, exposing one eye to the surface and lifting a fin as if to wave. I laughed. I heard them sing again. A gentle high note that seemed to hang in the air and settle in my soul, even more, it settled my soul.
The two adults were on each side of me now, and as I shifted my weight and began floating on my back, I could feel them moving around me. Soon, there dance included me. I joined them. I swam gently, rolling my body with the shift of the currents, allowing my hands to touch them and then the sea. I closed my eyes and listened to their song and swam with them.
Perhaps it was the caress of the sea, or the magic of the moment, or maybe just the release of my daily constraints, but, my head spun in delight and I felt a drug-like euphoria rise within my being. I was at once lost in bliss and fully present with myself.
Later, they bid me farewell and I felt a bit of sadness as they vanished into the darkness of the night and the vastness of the sea. I know that I found something that night. For even now, years later, I can close my eyes, breathe in the smell of the sea, and hear their song, the song I learned the night I swam with the dolphins.
Labels: adventures, words
Posted by: Theophany at 9:47 PM
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Friday, March 14, 2008
In Absence
It is possible to forget, to lose one's investment in being connected and engaging. It is probable that lack of familiar liaisons will diminish the rush of passion, the surge coursing through sinew and spirit delivering vitality. We can forget even that which is primary to personal essence.
The unused muscle withers. Creative ideas become faded memories and memories are soon enough forgotten, evaporated wisps dissipating across expanding horizons.
Yet, there is in all of such profound leaving and loss something that endures and that piece, no matter how small, abides eternally engrained within. Leaving, being separated from those things and people that affect us so throughly isn't really possible, not really. We are made of the remnants that remain, woven, remembered into a quiet brilliance.
Posted by: Theophany at 8:06 PM
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It is possible to forget, to lose one's investment in being connected and engaging. It is probable that lack of familiar liaisons will diminish the rush of passion, the surge coursing through sinew and spirit delivering vitality. We can forget even that which is primary to personal essence.
The unused muscle withers. Creative ideas become faded memories and memories are soon enough forgotten, evaporated wisps dissipating across expanding horizons.
Yet, there is in all of such profound leaving and loss something that endures and that piece, no matter how small, abides eternally engrained within. Leaving, being separated from those things and people that affect us so throughly isn't really possible, not really. We are made of the remnants that remain, woven, remembered into a quiet brilliance.
Posted by: Theophany at 8:06 PM
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Thursday, January 24, 2008
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Fresh from Reality
I just found this via a contact at work. Strengthsfinder.com is a test that rates your natural tendencies from a list of 34 talents/skill sets. You can purchase the book and it includes an online code to access the test and get your results. The concept is based on the belief that we will reach success by knowing and capitalizing on our strengths rather than trying to become good at something at which we are innately inept.
The test gives you a list of your top five strengths and a report detailing the strength and offering suggested actions to move into that strength.
My top five are:
Empathy - People who are especially talented in the Empathy theme can sense the feelings of other people by imagining themselves in others' lives or others' situations.
Competition - People who are especially talented in the Competition theme measure their progress against the performance of others. They strive to win first place and revel in contests.
Futuristic - People who are especially talented in the Futuristic theme are inspired by the future and what could be. They inspire others with their visions of the future.
Communication - People who are especially talented in the Communication theme generally find it easy to put their thoughts into words. They are good conversationalists and presenters.
Ideation - People who are especially talented in the Ideation theme are fascinated by ideas. They are able to find connections between seemingly disparate phenomena.
The report includes several pages of definitions and action suggestions. I’m off to discover more about me… It is all about me, after all.
Posted by: Theophany at 8:38 PM
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I just found this via a contact at work. Strengthsfinder.com is a test that rates your natural tendencies from a list of 34 talents/skill sets. You can purchase the book and it includes an online code to access the test and get your results. The concept is based on the belief that we will reach success by knowing and capitalizing on our strengths rather than trying to become good at something at which we are innately inept.
The test gives you a list of your top five strengths and a report detailing the strength and offering suggested actions to move into that strength.
My top five are:
Empathy - People who are especially talented in the Empathy theme can sense the feelings of other people by imagining themselves in others' lives or others' situations.
Competition - People who are especially talented in the Competition theme measure their progress against the performance of others. They strive to win first place and revel in contests.
Futuristic - People who are especially talented in the Futuristic theme are inspired by the future and what could be. They inspire others with their visions of the future.
Communication - People who are especially talented in the Communication theme generally find it easy to put their thoughts into words. They are good conversationalists and presenters.
Ideation - People who are especially talented in the Ideation theme are fascinated by ideas. They are able to find connections between seemingly disparate phenomena.
The report includes several pages of definitions and action suggestions. I’m off to discover more about me… It is all about me, after all.
Labels: adventures, Curiosity, words
Posted by: Theophany at 8:38 PM
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Monday, July 23, 2007
Fanciful Disaster
There was a moment of inspiration just now.
Something flickered across my mind, an awareness of dissatisfaction with life - my life. I remember standing on the railing a top the tallest building, exhausted from the battle to get there. I could see my feet, bare, spatulated as they clung to the railing at the edge of it all. I felt the familiar ache of my joints as they urgently worked to stretch for balance, extending to lengths and measures long forgotten with the passing of years. I knew -what was it? - I knew that this life was void of any real and enduring victory. I remember the clear and final choice to fall, to plummet eternally downward and land in mediocrity.
Strange. Why did I feel that I had ascended to anything but?
Posted by: Theophany at 8:57 PM
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There was a moment of inspiration just now.
Something flickered across my mind, an awareness of dissatisfaction with life - my life. I remember standing on the railing a top the tallest building, exhausted from the battle to get there. I could see my feet, bare, spatulated as they clung to the railing at the edge of it all. I felt the familiar ache of my joints as they urgently worked to stretch for balance, extending to lengths and measures long forgotten with the passing of years. I knew -what was it? - I knew that this life was void of any real and enduring victory. I remember the clear and final choice to fall, to plummet eternally downward and land in mediocrity.
Strange. Why did I feel that I had ascended to anything but?
Posted by: Theophany at 8:57 PM
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Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Unrefined Contact
Recumbent desires and cumbersome guilt affords us little in the way of meaning. You shouldn't look at me that way, if you don't want my delicate demands. I can't say what ferment swells and requisitions our future from clasped hands. Nor do I dare impart a wish to want more than fanciful moments, minuscule ticks off our kindness. Your seemly essence troubles us.
Is that enough?
Hello?
Why won't you listen to us anymore?
Posted by: Theophany at 8:07 PM
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Recumbent desires and cumbersome guilt affords us little in the way of meaning. You shouldn't look at me that way, if you don't want my delicate demands. I can't say what ferment swells and requisitions our future from clasped hands. Nor do I dare impart a wish to want more than fanciful moments, minuscule ticks off our kindness. Your seemly essence troubles us.
Is that enough?
Hello?
Why won't you listen to us anymore?
Posted by: Theophany at 8:07 PM
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Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Words
machination: a crafty scheme intended to accomplish some usually evil end.
Posted by: Theophany at 9:01 AM
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machination: a crafty scheme intended to accomplish some usually evil end.
Labels: words
Posted by: Theophany at 9:01 AM
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