12358 / life in our words
poem + reflections from Saugatuck, and a lil doorway to cymatics for the unfamiliar...
12358 / life in our words
the voice of God
(tremendous, satisfied, elated)
skipped like a stone out across space and time
little ripple touches—living vibrations
carrying memory of the voice
outward circles sounding harmonies
overlapping waves on waves
invisible hands drawing the raw clay and water of matter
and flinging that mud, that harmonic joy, sounding
with all the glee and precision
of the gods at play
only and ever vibrating, trembling, ecstatic fear lifting out and overflowing
down and cascading, central and tumbling, roiling and laughing,
teeming and shouting, weeping and sighing, and singing, always singing
the endless variation of the might of the depth of the awful joy
of the great voice, from which light itself emanates
which touched all the edges of being, life, matter, emptiness
(and still sounds)
and called it
(all of it)
very good
there is life in our words ...
yes, there is life in our words
and they sound truest
(and sweetest)
when they find harmony with that great voice
which was speaking before the first word,
before the first lips were made
—ZW
As I was walking down from the dunes next to Lake Michigan and into the woods, I wandered and I wondered—why does it feel so fantastic to be surrounded by earth and green and pine trees? and why do cities sometimes feel so brutal and monstrous in comparison? why does one make me feel like I can breathe deeply and the other make me feel stifled?
don’t get me wrong—I love cities. but often my favorite thing about them are the people, and the places those people make into their gardens and sanctuaries. places where our humanity and the good of our earth are brought near. backyard gardens. coffee shops and restaurants where the space opens up to the sky and trees are part of how you feel you inhabit the place while you’re there. they feel restorative.
Q: where is your favorite place in your favorite city? where is somewhere that feels integrated and restorative for you?
I began to think about the will that guides and shapes our cities. in my favorite spaces to be—the gardens, cathedrals, cemeteries, cafes, and parks—there seems to be some will towards the good. something charitable, magnanimous. and maybe that good can be as simple as “do for others what you want to be done to you.” (maybe this is why being invited into people’s homes and cultivated spaces is so lovely—they get to share with you their side of “what you want done to you.”)
but without under-bussing my least favorite parts of cities, you can probably imagine some of your least favorite parts of cities. and it probably won’t be a huge leap to imagine that the place or places that come to mind were not likely guided by that same charitable will towards the good. perhaps you can think of the driving will that constructed some of those places…
we live inside of the outcomes, the constructions, of those wills.
As I kept walking, I began to think of music. and supposing that God’s will is like the fundamental or root note, then suppose that we are like the harmonies all vibrating along with our own unique frequencies, or notes… and maybe suppose too that the pines on the edges of the Saugatuck dunes vibrated with their own overtones, bringing all-spectrum color and modes of harmony and ecstatic joy into the song of the waves of Lake Michigan…
perhaps we are at our best not when we try and prove the goodness of our own separate, individual notes, but when we are at home in the great root note—at home within our harmony, radiating along with the great song of the whole cosmos.
ah, and when I think of the words, and God said, let there be…, I sometimes reflect back on this little video that introduces cymatics:
and if you’re keen for a chaser, I’m particularly taken with Tolkien’s creation myth in the Silmarillion (it’s here on pages 26-33).
cheers for now.
thanks for being here. I write weekly sharing poetry, songs, musings, thoughts on creative life, and hopefully some encouragement… send me suggestions. the poems I share are from my first collection of poetry, Snowmelt to Roots, which you can pick up at my shop, on Amazon or on B&N.
peace,
Z
other poems I’ve shared here:
attempted contemplation at the breakfast table | MORNING
cup / path / song / house | MORNING
excerpt from a prayer | MIDDAY
God and the guest room | EVENING
I wonder if ever a buffalo | MIDDAY
instead of / why not | MORNING
morning translation | MORNING
San Antonio, Dec 2 | MORNING
squirrels | MORNING
taking her for granted | LOVE
the darkest night of the year | EVENING
the first page | MORNING
the moon sees me, and I see… | EVENING
tidal | LOVE
Dude I was hoping the whole time I was reading this from the end of the poem that you would mention The Silmarillion ha.
Love as always, brother🔥