Anyone who keeps a natural flock of Chickens knows that roosters crow at anytime day or night, inspired by as little as car wheels on a gravel drive, a door opening, or an Owl fly-by; so I only turn over in my grave when they crow at midnight, but it is the light of dawn itself that gets to me. I can just about HEAR the crack of dawn.
It is more like a POP than a CRACK,. Maybe it has to do with my pituitary gland, which glandologists say is light-sensitive.
The curtains on my north facing window and my shut eyes do not make a whole lot of difference: once dawn pops I can stay in bed as long as I want, but I cannot stay still. I am rocked, I am rolled, and eventually I am driven right out of bed.
I don’t much like being driven.
Driven is not
what I would call
So once out of bed, I must have coffee, to which I am addicted. But coffee is not enough. Cross-country truck drivers and long-range bomber pilots, sometimes use drugs which other people make out of stolen fertilizer or whatever to spur themselves on. And I assume that somebody has taken superdoses of such substances, then stayed up for three days and nights writing an entire novel, which of course turned out to be a pile of crap beyond hope of editing or revision. And then there are the psychedelics, but a free trip to the underworld does not mean that you will get back safely or be able to tell the tale.
Living is easy: telling the tale is hard.
For that we need … deep inspiration … now what you mean by that?
Artists, musicians, dancers, poets, magazine editors, preachers, you, me, and everybody else seek inspiration, even if it is just to roll out of bed in the morning which some days can be the hardest thing I do .
So with this concern, we made Inspiration the theme for this issue of the Metaphysical Times; not asking our writers to define the word for us, and not necessarily to even use that word, or even to inspire us (would be nice though) but just keeping in mind the universal human need for inspiration.
In response, Oren Pierce has contributed his account of how a trunk full of abandoned teddy bears and such were inspired to get together a small fleet of mostly pretend boats and leave the security of their trunk for the outside world. Gabriel Orgrease wrote about his meeting in a cemetery with a curiously inspired soul. Georgia Warren told about how her dying alcoholic mischievous grandfather filled her with lasting visions of fairies, trolls, and gnomes, some of whom seem to have come to live here with us.
The theme has inspired poets Mary Gilliland and Peter Fortunato. Nancy Cuto has contributed a poem inpired by her grandmother twenty-nine generations back … back when the big religions had already been at war with one another for thousands of years. Kris Faso shared an account of a dramatic, very physical infusion of spirit. Josiah Booknoodle wrote about “Foure Birds of Noahs Arke”, a devotional book that was inspired by the plague. Don Brennan wrote in terms of Reiki practice, making the very good point that inspiration rushes into us quite naturally when we ourselves just get out of the way, not saying that is an easy thing to do.
The classic Greek and Roman sources of inspiration are the muses …. there being one for most every activity. So we are publishing a poem and article from old Robert Graves, who is dead and would not mind. David Rollow has given us an account of the complicated relationship between a certain writer, not himself, and his muse who can be difficult. Franklin Crawford was not sure that he could get up for the project, so he went to the Salvation Army and came back with a particularly inspired piece of writing. Lastly I myself contributed the story of how Charles Pekar-Stein
became so inspired by his obsession with old diners and associated paraphernalia
that he got seriously carried away.
So there you have inspiration.
The theme of our next issue will be imagination.
Staff writer Davey Weathercock has already
promised an essay about the role of visualization
in the origin and cultivation of “kinetic levitation,”
a power that he claims to have to a limited degree.
We take this language to imply that sometimes he can
more or less fly, and that there is a method to it.
We will see about that.
It may take some imagination.
In the cemetery the tall guy told us he had written a letter to his governor to suggest that he might want to go for a walk in the cemetery. It being a somewhat old and fine cemetery surrounded by highway, a bubbly crick, poison ivy, a cigar bar, and an old house that won’t let anybody in to see it’s basement. Something went on about how his father walked somewhere with the governor’s father. How he knew the governor’s wife likes to go for walks. How his children like to go for walks.
(go to story)
Since I don’t really have anything to tell you, let me mention some things that happened on Sunday, August 20, 2017. I was dropping off a bag of used clothes at The Thrifty Store where even rich people shop for twenty-five cent shirts. Slumming it is big now and everybody loves a bargain. The place was closed and management prefers folks to not drop off donations on Sunday but people do anyway. Which makes it a good day for poor folks to get something they can afford, namely, something free. (Go to Story)
I have read poetry, novels, books that have inspired me, and listened to music that makes my breathing uneven.I hae seen art so powerful that I had to put my hand on a wall to keep from being dizzy (page #2 of this magazine). There is, however, only one time I felt something that came from inside of me; an idea so fully formed I could not escape it. A vision that would not fade. (go to article)
Inspiration is the process of clearing ourselves and bringing in wisdom, guidance, divine revelation, healing energy, or the sacred breath from Spirit. Call it channeling one’s muse, if you like. It is the process of connecting with the divine, getting our human selves out of the way, and allowing Spirit to move through us. (go to article)
Our Poetry section includes some of our favorite poets, click on ther names to bring yourself to special inspiring poems:
Robert Graves -
To the Muse Goddess (visit)
Dante - ‘’Purgatorio’’,
Canto I, lines 7 to 12 (visit)
Peter Fortunato -
Four Poems (visit)
Mary Gilliland -The Language of Bees (visit)
Nancy Cuto - Madragana Wears Her New Name (visit)
The Atlantic, June 1961
The original significance of this word has long been blurred by dishonest or facetious usage. The Muse, or Mountain Mother, whom the preclassical Greeks worshiped on Parnassus and other sacred peaks, seems to have inspired the poet in much the same sense as the loa gods of Haiti now “ride” their devotees. And, although by Homer’s time her invocation had become a mere formality, subservice to the Muse has ever since been avowed by counterfeit poets in the service of politics, learning, or the church. True possession has occurred sporadically down the centuries as a phenomenon that can neither be provoked or foreseen. (go to entire article)
The nine Muses are the offspring of Zeus and Mnemosyne, the Goddess of Memory. Before the invasion of the Olympian gods, the Muses, goddesses or guardian nymphs of springs and groves, tutelary spirits, belonged to a preliterate, oral culture. The original three are the daughters of Mnemosyne, memory, although they were raised by a wetnurse or foster-mother, Eupheme. Even this biographical snippet must be a late revision, since Mnemosyne is said to be the mother of the Muses with Zeus, so is already a literary corruption, the first euphemism. Mnemosyne is a personification: Memory. (go to article)
the Second Attention
(Emphasizing the Recall)
I closed my eyes and immediately recalled the Elders advice.
“Nothing might temper the spirit of a nation as much as the challenge of dealing with impossible people in positions of power.
If you face the uncertainty with impunity, you will acquire the strength to withstand
even the incomprehensible.
And for this, peace will guide your way - then you shall know how to proceed”.
(go to the beginning of article)
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