february 24, 2024
moon shadow
february 24, 2024
Category: threshold
february 24, 2024
Destroyers of World
last evening, i finally finished watching the film “Oppenheimer” — a biographical film centered primarily on two forces of physics:
J. Robert Oppenheimer and the Atomic Bomb
in the film, the cohort of physicists involved in the development of the atomic bomb postulated that the force and heat of the nuclear explosion could trigger a runaway atomic chain reaction by igniting atmospheric nitrogen —- thus, engulfing and destroying the entire planet — their confident mathematical conclusion: “near zero” — but not absolutely zero;
that infinitesimal quantum potential was apparently played to over-dramatic effect for the film — curious about the validity of this apocalyptic concern, i learned that this was never more than a scenario that required elimination in early mathematical and scientific due diligence;
still, the possibility instantly struck me as a parallel for the runaway greenhouse effect — where the greenhouse gas concentrations in Earth’s atmosphere trigger feedback loops that indeed ignite and fuel further feedback loops — causing abrupt climate change, planetary inhabitability and then mass extinction — where no adaptation, mitigation or survival is possible and plants, animals and humans die en masse —
conditions of which, we are on the cusp right now — an anthropogenic-caused-and-accelerated global temperature event horizon that is postulated as a very real probability by climate scientists and evolutionary/conservation biologists across the globe even as it’s played out as something that could occur over the next centuries or millennia rather than in this or the next decade or two —
yet, that more-than-zero-possibility scenario was detailed in a January 2024 article in Popular Mechanics based on a published model in the journal Astronomy and Astrophysics
i write today to pay my belated respects and sympathies and to process my retroactive and present grief and rage:
Continue reading “Destroyers of World”the recession
i witnessed the last of the snow piles
hand-shoveled or machine-threwn
and the natural drifts too
and the mound in the hollow
of the hügelkultur crescent moon
slowly recede, in a mesmerizing, seemingly molassic, week’s long retreat
then finally and sadly, concede
to the undormant grasses and soft ground beneath
to the sunlit warmth
of these nouveau
great lakes winters
my god,
what global madness
this adored microcosm, my priceless homestead, reveals
and catechizes for me:
our violent, human heat
an unrelenting torrent of accelerant that would
vanquish the ancients
melt greenland’s sheets of ice,
calve antarctic glaciers, strand polar bears,
expose or drown granite, basalt, gneiss
all, in the time of
that old sugar maple’s life
the year of unmagical thinking
all delusions were set out in the meadow for scavengers
along with all the seeds she didn’t start this year
she had prophetic dreams
she barely touched her tarot
he now lives entirely outside of her heart
she showed up first, but only as her second, or third choice
then, she died days later, in hospice, at 56,
and presumably,
knows now that she couldn’t take it with her, Egyptian-Pharaonic style
blood and cultural descendants of holocaust survivors are revelling in an ongoing genocide
and someone finally inspected his spots,
but leopards cannot change theirs
some of us, are just about ‘dat’ life, she re-learned
others, lie to themselves about their innocence,
or responsibility, including me,
we are all stereotypes
radical self-promotion and self-reinforcing mediocrity are apparently the new power couple,
she didn’t make it to the Remedios Varo show at the Art Institute of Chicago – with, and on, purpose.
her bones began to ache during sunlight, too, so that’s new,
”People incapable of guilt usually do have a good time.”
the visitation
absolutely familiar
though this composite
is arresting and near unrecognizable
appearing as face and form of a human woman
who never endured, nor knew of, disease
wearing pleromic countenance
without tongue for human words, without neurons for human thoughts
yet fluently exuding
all the truth
that is
now hers
Continue reading “the visitation”the mourning cloak
near invisible,
imagine silk organza, chameleoned
peach-pink colored, when i Am naked,
the color of water as i bathe.
sky blue, golden, sherbet, grayed or midnight black,
when i Am outside
ever-shifting with the time of day and weather,
once, even green,
as i knelt down in the cold grass
while diaphanous to all the unobservant
i Am dressed in this cloak of mourning
and the hem is lined with lead
Continue reading “the mourning cloak”the last meal of a woman
the last meal that She cooked for herself
was in the late afternoon of the 18th of September the Year of Our Hearts, 2023
that same evening
She would spend the last night together alone with her only child, her son, in Their house on Adams Street
he had already stopped at Chik-fil-A
– or Quesabroso? for his dinner
he, sixteen forever, for Her, not even licensed for a year yet
She thought, then said aloud to him
“pasta. i want some pasta.”
and so She very slowly set about
choosing saucepans, boiling water,
sautéing a little ground beef with a bit of diced onion, and minced garlic from a giant container from Costco,
adding in a half jar of Rao’s Original, some dried herbs — nothing too spicy or fancy now,
cooking her favorite gluten-free rigatoni,
or was it penne, mostaccioli?
She ate, rinsed the pots, loaded and ran the dishwasher, put the combined leftovers in her fridge
and at dinner time the very next day,
She told her oldest and dearest friend about it
her friend listened, and watched Her plate, reheat, and sit down to eat those leftovers — She wanting to do all that for Herself, still
She taking the smallest and most intentional bites possible,
every delicate swallow and cough amplified in the too-big-for-two, unusually quiet house, the parade of Her friends and visitors gone until tomorrow
“i’m not supposed to drink with these meds, but lemme have just one lil’ sip of your wine”
Continue reading “the last meal of a woman”Harvest Moon, northern hemisphere, 2023
i missed the rise of the
Full Moon last night,
preoccupied in thought
hands busy in work
she missed the rise of the
Full Moon last night
preoccupied in pain
early to bed, early to bed-ridden
i say, i will witness Her tonight
waning only slightly, gibbous,
99, 98 percent
or next month,
with confidence, and guilt
i say, she won’t witness Her tonight,
or next month, or any phase
Zero percent
wondering if she ever considered the Moon,
with confidence, and guilt
the word “full” lingers on beyond the Moon’s illumination
— as relative,
in these lives of ours
the opposite of maternity
I am not nesting
for the birth of a baby
I am harboring
for the death of a friend
art appreciation: thresholds
first in a series
The Entrance Gate on the far bank of The River Tuoni according to the Kalevala and as depicted by Finnish artist Hugo Simberg
oil on canvas
Hugo Simberg, 1873-1917
Finland
In this piece, which is an interpretation of one of many universal myths which impart the water crossing and trek we all are to embark upon after death,
most of the departed climb up the steep, barren embankment and enter the tunnel individually, while a child and a dog are tenderly escorted — led by the hand or carried by chthonic monks into the tunnel leading to the
Underworld
the tunnel appears under geological strata — presumably the surface of Earth, with blue sky and forest in background above it
interestingly, the artist’s limited use of perspective also allows the sky and forest to be viewed potentially as the Great Beyond itself — as a Northern or Alpine “paradise,” a Valhalla, beyond the sojourn in and through the tunnel
a high, solid, wooden fence bisects the river, embankment and tunnel and prevents arrivals from observing the exiting monks — only one-way vision and traffic for the dead
and while the monks do not cast shadows, the human figures continue to be accompanied by their shadows; for those who subscribe to Jungian analytical psychology or gnostic texts, the physical shadow depicted may be interpreted symbolically as the anima/animus of the person — which would ultimately disappear during the tunnel upon the full reintegration of the Self/Soul/Spirit
through re-unification with one’s divine twin (which is sometimes also called the cosmic/celestial twin or daimon) after having been separated during human incarnation and birth.
author’s note:
i often and prefer to call the underworld aka afterlife “The Great Wide Open of the All” — which in my liminal gleanings is a supremely contented blackness of universal consciousness, devoid of thought or sensation — a perfected existence in the dark cosmic fabric of nothingness,
there may be levels in the afterlife which may manifest our own personal imaginal constructs of paradise — far beyond what our limited sensory perception and experiences of life on Earth are - such as, an Alpine Paradise upon emerging from the tunnel -
i know full well the breathtaking beauty and feeling upon exiting a scary and lengthy mountain tunnel where my heart and eyes are stunned by a grand vista of forest, peaks and sky — from my many road trips in the Western U.S.
yet, i truly prefer the former — when i die, i want to rest for all eternity — although with just one desire, one sensation: warmth.
Continue reading “art appreciation: thresholds”
in the Limineen, on the threshold
"[S]he said that a [hu]man had to escape to the country to see the world whole and that [s]he wished [s]he lived in a desolate place like this where [s]he could see the [S]un go down every evening like [the] [g]od[head] made it to do."
~ Flannery O’Connor
in the Limineen of light and dark
as witnessed in The Great Lakes
of the North american continent
April 11, 2023
limineen
as imagined with
The Flammarion Engraving
Limineen : limin + een
noun: the time and space of the thresholds; attendance to or presence in, the in- betweens, the interregnum — of becoming and nonbecoming; of beingness and nothingness; of the material and ethereal; of sacredness and profanity; of love and hate; of calm and rage; of the authentic and the engineered; of inertia and energy.
limineen is both mood and State of this author, an Earthling, human, woman and entity, who finds her self present within and attendant to the thresholds of the corporeal, incorporeal and surreal.
from liminal / lim·i·nal
/ˈlimənəl/ adjective
- occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold.
- relating to a transitional or initial stage of a process.
Continue reading “limineen”
Carl Jung: if you become radically vulnerable and true to yourself — through your life’s expression, you will attract your people
“Neither propaganda nor exhibitionist confessions are needed.
If the archetype, which is universal, i.e., identical with itself always and anywhere, is properly dealt with in one place only, it is influenced as a whole, i.e. simultaneously and everywhere.
Thus an old alchemist gave the following consolation to one of his disciples:
“No matter how isolated you are and how lonely you feel, if you do your work truly and conscientiously, unknown friends will come and seek you.”
It seems to me that nothing essential has ever been lost, because the matrix is ever present within us and from this it can and will be reproduced if needed.
But only those can recover it who have learned the art of averting their eyes from the blinding light of current opinion, and close their ears to the noise of ephemeral slogans.”
– Carl Gustav Jung: Letters, Volume II, p. 595
Continue reading “Carl Jung: if you become radically vulnerable and true to yourself — through your life’s expression, you will attract your people”Gnostic Gospel of Transition
All light
That’s what you are
That’s what you always were
But, you’ve got to move on, now
Ready to go home, true.
They’re waiting for you.
All light,
I promise; it’s alright
