I’m always amazed by how many different planes of experience there are within this one. I leaned on a gate and watched swallows flying over a barley-field. At first I thought they had no internal compass – all directions were equal to them. But then I began to feel that they moved within planes of invisible color: red, green and blue. Then coming down the lane I saw two women talking at a crossroads. They were clearly sisters, living near to each other and meeting at that spot. Their worlds intersected – planes of contentment, with a few complaints. Two more planes existed within my mind – the guidance and wisdom of two spiritual teachers.
I arrived back at my own world of books and pens and words, in two minds. The one mind wants to observe the perfection of swallows, sisters, spiritual teachings. The other wants to present, or incarnate, the different planes they move in.
As I sat and contemplated, a beautiful, mature blackbird landed on the wall and hopped down onto the burning green grass. In that moment the blackbird’s plane of experience and mine intersected. I could discern its enormous wisdom and its loneliness too. It told a tale of a world which has been left empty by human beings who confuse the purpose of earth with material things. The blackbird’s plane of experience contains that story. It truly does. It is lonely for the perceptions and understandings of human beings. We need the help of spiritual teachers for this too. Even presenting, or incarnating these ideas is difficult. Why do you think the bees are disappearing? Not just because of sprays and fertilizers. But because people have withdrawn love from the world. The bees are lonely for what only human beings can bring. What else can they do but go away?
Unless we start to take the idea of these different planes of experience seriously the world will die off. People will continue to look for material solutions to material problems without realizing they have left their lives at some crossroads – and not in a state of contentment.
So I fed the blackbird my words – for what they’re worth – and I think he went off a little happier. He had told his tale and been listened to. Likewise I tell my tale to the great lord of hearts, with thought and care, knowing that he will transform it into a fresh lawn for the birds.
Two swallows above the broad barley-field
own the red and green and blue of the day.
Two sisters are standing at the crossroads
owning contentment and life’s small losses.
Two teachers are vividly in my mind
urging me to make the spirit my own.
Each to his own is the word of the hour,
swallows, sisters, teachers and my two minds -
one for painting the colors of the light,
the other for describing its wisdom.
I will nod a greeting at the crossroads
then return to my books and pens and work.
A lonely bird has come for provision
to my books and pens and work, seeking words
to relate how it sees a world not mine
but touching on mine where the grass burns green.
It tells its tale of an earth left empty
by souls who confuse its purpose with things
instead of the deeper treasures of love
which birds know in two hops and an eye’s flash.
So I feed it words for its loneliness
and tell my tale to the great lord of hearts,
sharing my treasures with such care and thought
that he may sow a fresh lawn for the birds.
Best wishes, today,
©Jay Landar 2013. All rights reserved
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