I have another Form in mind which I can elaborate in the air – in thought – much like the World Tree. It is the form the bird makes in song – the song which maps out a world of instincts, visible to the mind’s eye: the delicate, finely-wrought pattern its singing makes. The important thing here is what’s visible to the mind’s eye, because really it is the heart that grasps it, rather than the mind. And insofar as the heart grasps these invisible forms it re-creates what the Divine accomplished in establishing a world of instincts in the first place.
I think this is clearly related to the spiritual concept of Ascension which lies close to us at this time of year – the month of May. The work of the birds is largely accomplished – the nests are built, the young are incubating or hatching – and to a large degree the trees have succeeded in raising sap to their topmost branches. The song that spills out now has fulfillment in it and the leisure to reach up to the creator spirit.
The human heart does this consciously. The physics of the heart understands that each thought is a creative form which rises in a very finely-wrought, delicate pattern – just as the bird’s song rises – to the hand that made it. We don’t own thoughts and neither do we have the right to abandon them to the forces of the world. The physics of the heart is the one which can hold the bird in its hand without crushing it, which knows that ascension proceeds in songs and prayers.
And finally I see – in the mind’s eye – a gleam of light at the highest point. From this point the entire earth is suspended – and all created things.
The bird’s song maps a world of instinct in the air –
one so delicate and finely-wrought I hesitate
to send my thoughts out into its living weave.
But I must rise too and learn the thundercloud’s warning
as it visit’s the earth with a scattering of hail;
I must know the instinct that spreads its name in light
and dresses human beings in thoughts which dare to fly:
my spirits may lie low with me – my spirit sings above.
Now here, now there, I approach the higher bird of thought,
then the lower – each one shaped with the form of love
which once grasped it in its hand: this love I rise to.
And at the highest point of all a gleam of light
from which the whole earth hangs suspended, and the globe
of all created things. This physics suits my mind,
which holds a bird in its hand but will not crush,
which knows that ascension proceeds in songs and prayers.
Picture: Ascension by Rembrandt
Best wishes, today,
© Landar 2012. All rights reserved
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Author: Jay Landar
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