Saturday, May 14, 2016

After all, a heron (Hexagram 3, COMING TO BIRTH)


Under your hands
the soil moves
and is moved.
Creatures of the soft,
dense dark
stir and are stirred
and they wonder -- 
can they wonder? -- 
if light exists.
It does. One layer,
just one layer
above their earth-blinded
eyes. One layer, one small
labour from the floor
of one tiny soul. One
push, one intention
from beneath the soil,
beneath the tail, beneath
the seed. Break up
from the core. Break up,
break open, break 
through the shell and be
blinded anew by the resolute
wash of light that now is
inescapably everywhere.
We, too, must push. 
Must break through
the old grit.
Break open, break apart
the husk, the mind
and its concrete spoils.
Break away. Break up
with the night that we
have let go on too long. 
Furl the blinds.
Aspire through
the suffocation of our own
blindings. Break down
the membrane of fear 
and be blinded again
by the light until we
can see. Here is Spring, 
again. Here is
a poem. 

© 2016


From Hellmut Wilhelm's translation of the I Ching:

Times of growth are beset with difficulties. They resemble a first birth. But these difficulties arise from the very profusion of all that is struggling to attain form. Everything is in motion: therefore if one perseveres there is a prospect of great success in spite of the existing danger. When it is [our] fate to undertake such new beginnings, everything is still unformed, dark. ... In order to find one's place in the infinity of being, one must be able both to separate and to unite. 



From Hilary Barrett's lovely translation: 

'Clouds, thunder: Sprouting. 
A noble one weaves warp and weft.'

At the beginning, clouds and thunder swirl together in a creative ferment. The creative impulse rises like thunder and flows out into the world's confusion. 

The word for warp threads also means a canonical text and a channel where energy flows. These are the first principles: you can weave all the colours of experience into the structure they provide, translating creative chaos into a creative order. 


Chaos coheres into a heron
who streams past my window
as I compose ... 

 


(Photo of seedburst found at Spoken' in Portland. Photographer unknown; my thanks to you.)

(Photo of heron by warhead_71)
(Source: rcgroup.com. Thank you!) 

1 comment:

claimthisday said...

Thank you so much for your beautiful writing. Your poem generates such hope; I will return to it again.

I wanted to let you know also that I have sent you an email to the address associated with this blog.

Best wishes.

A.

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