Tag Archives: ts eliot
East Coker
Burnt Norton
Litanei
I am a story with no beginning, and no end. I am our story continually untold. Seen sleightly. History objectively pronounced. Widthless I, emergent reality we.
Histoires, eglantine entwine. Tsunami of becoming.
Mine und dein. Aller Seelen. Gilt mesh, braided golden vine in guiltless compassion wound.
Wherein.
Electric pain imprison’d, refracted joy enprism’d. Fire and Rose.
Infinitely time divides, bounds and binds – differentiating an all-embracing integration.
We are mystery with no beginning, and no end.
Though as we flow – we shine.
A conversation
What is the colour of silence?
Here presently co-occupied
Where fire and petals concresence
Our rose-garden life be descried
But, Mirror Mirror here inside
Deep blue-black pool, the vista wide
Mine the immortal hand and eye
Selfie-framed frozen symmetry
What pattern the fret-saw begets
The knot-stich embroid’ring reliefs?
The surf-line that curves as it whets
The sharpening stones of beliefs?
Common our cause in unknowing
Reflecting, our I in this prism
Darkly the glass yonder flowing
Secur’d lie i in this prison
Time’s presence, bloom of time passing
Consciousness, your fawn’s liquid glance
Thou and mine I, hours amassing
Surprising to joy from this trance
Ceilidh in the Clouds
We danced as we gathered
Fresh sublimation of triple-point stars
To the covalent ceildh of clouds
Skylark ascending acceleration of joy
Heel-toe the tapping
magnetic the tempo
Crescendo the cresting
Till..
Swooping tangiential
Pregnant with knowing
Out flowing in ozone of love
Raining, tip-tripping we’re falling, soft folding away
Each in our droplet, clear-crystalline skin
Singly we sing, conjoint in orchestral skein
And tip-tap-tip slip-slopping
Hoh o hoh tippie-toe flowing
Torrents a-gurgling, giggle-atumbling
Drenching dry frictional sand
Glisten to demara-gold strand
Irresistably streaming
Mixing dust into lusting
Slaking memory with fire
Returning we quaff
As we laugh.
Phlebas the Phoenician, reconstituted
Crying was pulled from the deep sea swell
Wrenched through world enough, and time
(Prophecy lost)
To act again on the stage of her youth
Through this whirlpool ent’ring the clouds
(trailing glory)
Through tongues of fire she arose
(To be won)
The journey of water starts as molecule – HoH – evaporated from that sea, arising to form clouds, alive with brownian motion. On the one hand water represents eternal bonding – with the hydrogen and the oxygen atoms held-together through their covalent cloud of electrons through endless cycles of rebirth. A trinity. On the other – they associate variously – in droplets falling, through the rivers to the ocean. Together water retains a memory. (Mixing memory and desire). Water has a triple-point – at 0.1 degrees celcius at atmospheric pressure – where it’s different forms – solid, liquid and gas – are in equilibrium. The phase-change between ice and gas without passing through the liquid state – is called sublimation. An image of resurrection.
Strong Brown God
Strong brown God is the river
Reiver of sods and odds thrown
Our brownian drownian motion a-quiver
Deep pooling in currents its own
Still life flowering river
Our silver shiver of life
A gurgling-guddling quick’ning sliver
Wrangling-tangle of strife
All we be is water-taught
Aught but water our withal
A tumbling jumbling ripple of thought
Pride before a waterfall
Day the rose-garden lifetime
Wild thyme and strawberry day
And infinitely nightly tight-coiled our lifeline
Running through death and decay
Well the still point of the world
Whirled without end to be well
For waving and curling dimensions unfurled
Love and its ocean-tide swell
Monks of St Giles
January meeting preamble and poem
Pre-amble
Our Fathers who part at eleven
Allow me this quatrain
Our income’s come
Our fill be done in mirth
As it is from seven
Live verse this day so gaily read
And forgive us our mess’d verses
As we forgive those press verse against us
And lead us not into prosation
But deliver us from drivel
Though mine is just dinkum
The hour, and the story
As ever. A river..
Life is like a River
This life is like a river
A silver shiver this life
A gurgling-guddling quick’ning sliver
Wrangling-tangle of strife
All we be is water-taught
Aught but water our withal
Our tumbling jumbling ripple of thought
Pride before a waterfall
Strong brown God is the river
Reiver of sods and odds thrown
Our brownian drownian motion a-quiver
Deep pooled in tides of its own
Our day is like a lifetime
Wild thyme and strawberry day
But frighteningly nightly tight-coiling the lifeline
Which runs through death and decay
Well the still point of the world
Whirled without end to be well
For waving and curling dimensions unfurled
Love which is ocean’s salt swell
Consciousness, the rose and the fire
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one
TS Eliot
Any static theory of consciousness feels incomplete. Reality is much closer to a process than a material. Whitehead’s “Process and Reality”, is impenetrable, but so much is clear. Consciousness, our awareness of self and the universe, is transitory, fleeting for most of us. This is to be expected if reality is the intersection of process and the material. It takes intense meditation and study to be able to hold oneself within the stream of the process that is reality as it pours through us. (I am told).
To quote Max Tegmark (New Scientist “Solid, Liquid, Consciousness”) “consciousness is a process that can occur in certain physical systems”. Whilst he invents new language (consciousness is for instance renamed as perceptronium) – it’s an old truth restated. As old, or older than zen. The mathematics are apparently called “Integrated Information Theory” or IIT for short. The system conditions necessary are interesting involving a fluctuation dynamic balance between various factors – system integration and internal separation for instance.
Reality may in fact be the same thing as consciousness (since observation crystallises out particular reality from the infinity of potential). In any case both are a process within a material setting. Matter doesn’t exist without the process of observation and the process can’t flow unless it is materialised. Just as gravitons need material to interact with to create weight. Matter matters – like the zip travelling through time, along the zipper. In this metaphor, what is reality? The changing space that the opening zipper reveals?
And what of the observer phenomenon? After 100 years of quantum investigation there is still no explanation of who or what the “observer” is. In the quantum world at least the observer certainly affects the observed – crystallising out one particular reality from the infinity possibilities that exist. Tegmark states “recent papers have argued that the observer is the key to understanding other fundamental physics mysteries, such as why our universe appears so orderly, why time seems to have a preferred forward direction, and even why time appears to flow at all”.
But is this not what we, each of us are? Fundamentally we observe. For me at least, the words observer and soul are interchangeable – as are the words observation and witness. As Teilhard de Chardin puts it – together we are the phenomenon of man and through us “the universe becomes aware of itself for the first time”. And Teilhard de Chardin also makes the powerful case that consciousness must have been a property of matter from the outset (his inner and outer), and that evolution has led along the path to emergent self-awareness and will eventually lead to (re)unification with God’s love at the Omega Point – when individual units of consciousness, our separate selves – unify and merge.
It seems to me that the separate strands of enquiry – scientific, spiritual and philosophical – are converging or possibly a better description is co-emerging; and toward a knowledge of the presence of God’s love. A rose is a rose by whatever name – love, connection, truth, God.