Autumn Leaves.

The fallen autumn leaves...not of defeat but it shows the reality of separation, of impermanence, and of decay. And it happens for a reason: to surrender and pave the way for rebirth, for vibrancy, for impetus, for freshness, for new growth, for new opportunity.

 

 

 

The cycle has to go on. A cycle of life and death,

And then of resurrection to a new genesis, a new

Lease in life, of a chance for others to evolve

And unfold and experience the exhilarating and

Delicious act of blooming and dancing at the

Instance and prodding of the wind.

 

This cycle is what interrelates us with the fallen leaves,

And the rest of the universe. An area where everything is

Non-discriminating, where justice does not need to

Be dispensed, where being a dog or a plant or a man

Does not matter anymore for the invisible lines

That separate them are already indistinguishable.

 

The rhythm of life has to flow to the tune of the

Throbbing of the earth and the pulsating of the stars.

The rain will come and go. They are designed at such

For they infuse life, freshness, hope and growth.

Just like the autumn leaves, they come, they go.

 

Thank you for the wisdom of the fallen leaves

As they elucidate fully the meaning of life,

Which is a matter of giving and receiving, in

Obedience to the dictates of the natural order

Of things in this existence.

 

Let’s look with melancholy and gladness at

The fallen leaves as they teach us about

The reality of life, about humility, about surrendering

To the perfect will that only the One above is

Able to dispense.

 

Autumn leaves must fall…goodbye and hello

Leading to another goodbye and hello, and it

Goes on and on and on. The wheel turns, but

No matter how many times it rolls, it is still

A gift…a beannacht.

 

I composed this poem as a token of gratitude to all my Multiply friends and readers. Have a blessed weekend.

 

Virgilio Gavia

04 October 2008

“I See My Beauty in You.” – Rumi

 

Oh! I love this line from Rumi’s poem. Very unselfish, very giving, very loving. No pretentions, authentic sharing, raw, organic, non- discriminative.

 

This line is a very fresh approach to expressing love – actually, an expression of the soul -  coming from a poet and a mystic of olden times. The object is the union of two souls. Very relevant even to this day. Ageless. Timeless.

 

It breaks down self-erected eccentric barriers, tames the wildness of the heart and transcends the illusory boundaries of false self. It also tells me that the person is close to me, body and soul…It’s an invisible embrace that makes two people dissolve in sweet intimacy where the flesh and the self that separate them can no longer be distinguished.

 

I love this quote from St. John of the Cross:

 

“I did not have to ask my heart what it wanted

Because of all the desires I have ever known,

Just one thing did I cling to

For it was the essence of all desire:

To know beauty”

 

Let’s look straight in the eyes of the people we love and lovingly say with dignity and fiery love, “I see my beauty in you.” It’s melting.

 

What are we waiting for?

 

Virgilio Gavia

29 September 2008

Look to this day
For it is life
The very life of life.
In its brief course lie all
The realities and verities of existence,
The bliss of growth,
The splendor of action,
The glory of power --
For yesterday is but a dream,
And tomorrow is only a vision,
But today, well-lived,
Makes every yesterday a dream of happiness
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well, therefore, to this day.

                                     -taken from the Rigveda

These words were written hundreds of years ago and still relevant to this day. Every day is a new day. It is up to us to create and spread “well-lived” moments throughout the day. Greet the morning with a silent invocation, give a warm smile, listen to good music, drink a cup of you favourite brewed coffee, look at the falling autumn leaves, make people happy, appreciate simple things, be a blessing to others… lots of things we can do. Again, it’s all up to us.

The big emphasis is on the now. The moment is as slippery as an electric eel. Before you know it, it’s gone like a mist. The fruit of a well-lived moment concretizes the dreams of happiness of yesterday and enhances the vision of tomorrow’s hope.

I suspect the very life of life being referred to is God’s grace operating in our lives. Don’t procrastinate. Seize it immediately and then embrace it and dance with it. It’s the splendour of action at the instance that creates the golden moments of life.

Make this day wonderful. It’s all yours really.

Have a sweet and blessed weekend.

Photo of a Blackbird (source: Wikipedia)

One of the most intriguing and mysterious poem I have encountered is the “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” by Wallace Stevens. I should say it was heavily draped by a thick black curtain that it will require a very sharp knife to cut through it and reveal its meanings.

 

The poem consists of 13 parts or verses, but I want to focus only on the first part:

 

I

Among twenty snowy mountains

The only moving things

Was the eye of the blackbird.

 

I was floored with mouth agape the first time I encountered this part. It is similar to the elegant Haiku, simple yet profound, delicate yet powerful. It cuts the heart like a sharp cutlass.

 

I am interpreting this part of the poem from the area of hope because I can relate to it.

 

There are times when I feel so alone, especially when I am facing struggles in life. I feel abandoned. It is as if I have no one to talk to, no one to spill and share my travails, no one to listen to my woes. I feel like a barren island after a nuclear attack. The first time I encountered this part of the poem, it communicated to me a very profound and reassuring message: that I am actually not alone in my struggles because I am with Somebody higher, who is in control of everything. I interpret the moving eye as the grace of God. That in spite of the coldness of being alone and having that feeling of helplessness, there is God’s grace that I can depend on. I can imagine it moving, like the wind, searching, touching, embracing and comforting lonely souls. Although the blackbird or the raven is associated with something negative, like temptation or the darkness of sin, for instance, it also has long been a symbol of divine providence. Elijah, the prophet, was fed "bread and meat" by ravens in the wilderness.

 

Other people may have different interpretations of the poem’s first part but, as far as I am concerned, it gave me a tremendous amount of comfort and reassurance.

 

Actually, it gave me every reason to hope…that moving eye.

 

Have a blessed day.

 

Witness

By Denise Levertov

 

Sometimes the mountain

Is hidden from me in veils

Of cloud, sometimes

I am hidden from the mountain

In veils of inattention, apathy, fatigue,

When I forget or refuse to go

Down to the shore or a few yards

Up the road, on a clear day,

To reconfirm

That witnessing presence.

 

This poem reminds me to stop from time to time and feel (really feel) the embrace of the cold wind as it penetrates the pores of our skin, to listen to the song of the larks, to watch the dancing leaves at the instigation of the wind, to smell the fresh air after the rain, to closely look at the dews resting on blades of grasses.

 

Even the veil of cloud that hides the mountain is a sight to behold if we will just give time to look at it.

 

All of these things are manifestations of God’s grace. Don’t miss them or you miss the blessings.

 

Have a nice day.

Quite Street

 

There is something about a quite street under a diffused sunlight after the rain. It brings my thoughts to slow down, calms my nerves and tames my wild emotions. An echo of another level of consciousness lingers, like a smoke coming out of a smokestack on a cold day, making the old and common surroundings look new and fresh. Loneliness is transformed into solitude as my mind slips into quite contemplation.

 

My mind is an open receptacle. I can spend hours immersed and totally absorbed in this clarified milieu, transfixed, and soaking up everything that my senses can accommodate, and be detached, even for a limited and cramped time, from the clutches of fear, of anxiety and of insecurities.

 

I melt and surrender to this wondrous moment of grace as I feel loved.

 

It resembles an open monastery,

A hermitage without walls,

Were contemplation is practiced

Under the gaze of the blue skies in day time

And the canopy of the quietly pulsing stars at night time.

 

The grey skies, the trees, and the man-made structures

Were in cahoots so well as to create an atmosphere

That waters and refreshes my soul,

Where I feel like a fictional character

In a fictional dream,

Where poems are born and nurture,

Where I can even hear the conference of the starlings.

 

This is a case where emptiness is filling, where there is fullness and wholeness, where the constant flagellations of the dark side of life are brought to a standstill. Lao Tzu once said, “Be empty, and you will remain full.”

 

Empty streets, empty feelings, empty mind.

There is stillness but there is also

A sense of movement, of changes,

Of something that is to be filled-up.

There’s nourishment. Soothing. Growing.

Even transforming. An epiphany.

 

I want to sit still and inhale the goodness of the situation, for hours, even for days, or even for a lifetime, for as long as the environment remains frozen. As much as possible, I don’t want to exhale what I have already inhaled. But reality tells me it is not possible. I may turn violet and expire. Ice will melt at some point in time. That I have to come down to the zenith of what I feel so that I can again enjoy how it is up there the next time  around is more of a necessity and a survival.

 

Empty streets.

An open monastery.

A hermitage without walls.

Solitude.

Contemplation.

 

A clear mind.

 

I am ready to face another day of living, warts and all.

 

Virgilio Gavia

17 September 2008

 

 

Early Evening

 

Maple leaves slow-dance

As the cold wind whistles

A flat tune.

The sun is still up

But with less blazing glory

As the sunrays languidly

Stream down to a greying

Landscape.

 

It is serene as people slowly amble their way towards the welcoming atmosphere of their respective abodes. They look listless after slaving 8 hours of work.

 

I like this time of the day

At 6:30 pm

 

People can’t wait to slouch on their couches, put their wobbly and perhaps arthritic legs on the ever reliable ottoman, flick on the TV set to their favourite programs until they snore them away.

 

Just like the slow dancing maple leaves.

Just like the whistling of the cold wind.

Just like the sluggish stream of the sunrays.

 

Darkness will eventually shoo away the remaining fading sunlight as it stakes its claim on this part of the world. And tired and weary bodies will snuffle their way to where dreams reside, to where Jungian analysts make their living, to where nightmares also take residence.

 

And the throbbing of the earth continuously

Secrete its bass tremolo sound as it slowly rocks the hammock of the night.

 

Most eyes will be closed by then to usher in temporary peace as the moon contentedly looks on.

 

Another evening.

We don’t know

What tomorrow may bring.

It may be the same cycle.

For now, palates vibrate in different tunes

In sync with the earth’s throbbing.

Virgilio Gavia

16 September 2008

massive stones

 

of a hundred years

 

defining moments

[New York]

Sunday, February 8, 1914

 

I wish I could tell you, beloved Mary, what your letters mean to me. They create a soul in my soul. I read them as messages from life. Somehow they always come when I need them most, and they always bring that element which makes us desire more days and more nights and more life. Whenever my heart is bare and quivering, I feel the terrible need of someone to tell me that there is a tomorrow for all bare and quivering and you always do it, Mary.

                                                                                      Love from Kahlil

 

(Taken from the book, Beloved Prophet – The Love Letters of Khalil Gibran and Mary Haskell and her private journal)

 

This is one of the most soulful love letters I have encountered because of this very intriguing line (2^nd sentence of the letter): “They create a soul in my soul.” For me, this is one of the deepest, if not the deepest, expressions of love from one person to another person. It is deeply emotional. Very intense. My interpretation of this phrase is that the letters of Mary Haskell enhance the very existence of Kahlil – his whole being. They penetrate every fibre of his being. They are his much needed oxygen to survive. It is as if Gibran is saying that the letter gave him every reason to exist in this world in spite of everything. They are his life saver (“Somehow they always come when I need them most and they always bring that element which makes us desire more days and more nights, and more life.”).

 

If I am to give a title to this love letter, it will be: “You Enhance my Existence.” Or, this may sound funny, but here it is, “Your Love is my Oxygen.”

 

Here’s Mary Gaskell’s Love letter to Kahlil:

 

And always, the moment I know I am going to see you, you begin to swarm in me, like bees in a hive-until I am filled and humming through and through with-Kahlils, kahlils, Kahlils. I feel like a river-about to meet the sea. Goodnight, goodnight, Kahlil-to the baby that is in you-and the planet-and the friend. I kiss your heart, that is the forge of life-and the touch blesses me.

 

A very fiery response. It ignites the soul, especially this line: “…you begin to swarm in me, like bees in a hive-until I am filled and humming through and through with-Kahlils, kahlils, Kahlils.” O my goodness, it ripped my heart.

 

Are there still love letters like these?

                                                     The Silent Tree

 

Weathered…beaten…but still standing proudly. This tree has been through a lot, with scars expressing silent wisdom, of silent maturity, seasoned by years of standing up against harsh elements.

 

There is dignity and nobility.

 

Noble scars…like an old but dignified Samurai warrior meditatively working his hands doing Ikebana.

 

Scars I prefer not to be obliterated.  Like the scars of the heart. It is a badge of honour for resiliency, healing and survival. An overcomer.

 

I am reminded of this quote by Rabindranath Tagore, Indian Poet, Playwright & Essayist, Won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913:

 

“When I stand before thee at the day’s end, thou shalt see my scars and know that I had wounds and also my healing.”

 

There are some people who cannot discern the validity of the scars, the sweet fruits of heroism though they seem to look sour on the outside. They shy away from the ugliness the scars externally represent. But they missed one thing though: that the scars can turn into stars in a deep night where people are asleep.

 

Reminds me of some very close people in my life who left this world leaving indelible imprints on the terrain of my mind, like scars, to join the stars.

The quite intensity of the branches and the leaves

In a posture of trying to reach out to something only God knows.

 

Perhaps an act of worship?

 

I’ve been looking at this photo for hours.

There’s an echo of an ancient Chinese Zen painting.

Something deep and sincere.

 

There is something to it…a soft silence beneath.

As if my soul is admonishing my heart.

 

I need to saunter while I reflect.

 

The meaning will find itself in due time.

The meaning is probably in the meaning.

 

                                                        -Virgilio Gavia

I am prompted to write this piece after my daughters asked me the deep significance of birthdays aside of course from coming out of this world. (My eldest daughters are identical twins – 26 years old - and they will be celebrating their birthday on Sept. 21).

 

Anyway, after hours of pondering, here’s what I think is the inner significance of birthdays:

 

I celebrated my birthday last June without much fanfare (just like the previous years). It came with a very soft thud, without the tooting of horns, which is my preference. We just had a nice quite lunch with family members and some close friends. That’s it. No hoopla. Perhaps the maturity factor has taken hold of me and provided me with a new set of perspectives in life. Maturity has a way of making one see the wisdom of pragmatism.

 

I know of some people, even in their 50’s and beyond, who still throw parties, lavish parties at that, inviting as many people as possible, measured only by the size of their pockets and wallets. There’s nothing wrong with this. But there must be more to it.

 

I believe that birthdays must be celebrated. It is a celebration for thanking the Good Lord for giving us a new lease in life. But this should not be a celebration alone. Something more has to be done which regrettably has been sidelined, neglected or has simply been forgotten in the bowels of time. And it’s about soul-searching. Birthdays must play a very significant role in inner growth.

 

Birthdays should serve as a vessel for self-evaluation. It’s time to ask those existential questions that inspired the likes of Soren Kierkegaard, Jean Paul Sartre and their ilk. In this way, we will be able to account for our failures and accomplishments, rekindle our aspirations or revitalize sagging and limping life goals and then reorient our life’s compass as we draw up fresh action plans.

 

In my case, last year, I went to my favourite haunt, Tim Horton’s coffee shop, all by myself, and reflected on what happened to my life the past year. Many things crawled like bugs in my mind. Things I did the past year made a pass-in-review like West point cadets in Annapolis. I vividly saw the things I did wrong and those that went right. And then I sought wisdom, guidance and strength from the Lord and revised my life goals and plans.

 

Barry Vissel, author of deeply moving books on relationship, family and healing, shared what he does on his birthdays:

 

“I began to spend most of my birthday alone. I would take a little day pack with my lunch and notebook and go off into nature. When I found a place that was inspiring to me, I would sit down and write in my notebook what I am most thankful for and the gifts of the past year. In my time alone, I reflect on why I came on earth and what I feel my purpose is. I ask the Divine presence for guidance and inspiration for the coming year.”

 

This is worthy of emulation and I resolve to do this next year.

 

Anyway, after I did my soul-searching, I came out of the coffee shop newly minted and refreshed like a freshly-watered plant on a muggy summer afternoon.

 

I left that coffee shop with a broad smile etched on my face.

 

Unbelievable! My children were howling! I don't know what the howling means but I still love them. Lol.

MyHeritage: Family tree - Genealogy - Celebrity

It’s almost a tragedy. A squirrel and a pigeon. Well, before the squirrel came within a very close striking distance, the pigeon flew away just in the nick of time. Phew! An intention disrupted, a life spared. Could be a tragic ending to a seemingly peaceful, nonchalant existence.

 

A whack on the side of our heads. Wake up!

 

The animal instinct, survival,

Knowing the smell of blood.

The impending danger that lurks everywhere,

Like a jaguar stalking its prey.

Discernment.

Just like the raw discernment of the pigeon

Against the wily squirrel.

 

What’s in between life and death?

It is where the struggle of existence lies,

Where Jacob wrestled with the angel

Or wrestled with himself?

Where everything happens…the paradox…the dichotomies,

Like joy and suffering, victory and defeat.

Sometimes the line curves and swerves unexpectedly,

Rattling and disturbing every fibre of our being.

Sometimes the line goes straight,

Giving us a breather to enjoy the sun,

The smile, the good music and the illuminating poem.

 

But no matter what form the line becomes, we stay in the centre.

 

There is something we can do about the struggle for existence. I guess it’s in going to the centre of our being, in a state of focus, clarity, peace and balance, where we can accept the different realms of reality and the realization that we will be in them at some point in time. It is in knowing how we can operate successfully within those realities.

 

Being open and attentive to whatever is emerging,

Cautiously submitting to the moment, and

Allowing the process to unfold by itself naturally.

Just go with the flow, but keep centered.

Jacob went through the motion of the struggle

But kept himself centred to what he wants –to be blessed.

 

Whatever is flexible and flowing to the centre will tend to grow.

The wisdom of the Streaming Sunlight

 

I am entranced in thought.

 

There’s something about the sunlight filtering through the in-betweens of branches and leaves, the brightness and the refraction, like a streaming of the divine light.

 

There is transcendence.

There is reaching out.

There is complementing.

There is a bath of newness.

There is a moment of solemnity.

There is faith, hope and charity.

There is even a glimpse of the Good Samaritan.

 

The wind blows, the shadows move.

 

It has been this way since Genesis.

The birds are silent.

There is muted enigma.

I look up with wonder as I get a glimpse of the unseen,

With the stream of light bathing me.

 

It is a privilege granted by the sunlight if you are willing to be silent and just be.

 

I heard a voice saying, “I Am what I Am!”

The heart sings, the poet gives the rhythm.

 

In the meantime, the sunlight streams unabatedly.

Until now, it is still a mystery to me.

                                - Virgilio Gavia

 

Note: I wrote this poem 2 days ago in one of my moments of solitude. There are lots of mysteries in this world, some are scary and some just makes you feel good, and the streaming sunlight is one of these feel good mysteries in my view. I believe that there are mysteries that are better left untouched.