i write for inner peace.
To study the Way is to study the self.
To study the self is to forget the self. To forget the self is to be enlightened to the myriad of things. -Dogen, Zen Priest I know nothing of the way, but I'm on it- a current bound for the coast, a soul bound for birth, the blur of a face on a night train bound for Orlando from a hermitage in what might as well be the mountains with a hometown name I made up- The House of Flying Cards, I used to tell them- overlooking their communities off the edge of their map, the glow of their windows and the jam sessions buzzing within as distant as their stars above. I train alone not on the shoulders, but in the shadows, of their giants, by the window of this train rattling toward their skyline- no ID tag, unregistered, and therefore nameless. I represent the null and the void, I'll tell them, and state in the manner of Samurai from long ago my truth and mission: I came not to be fooled, or to see moves, but to be moved; not to be puzzled, or to see them puzzling each other to a stumped standstill: I came to see the big picture these puzzle pieces complete. I don't want to buy their tricks, gimmicks, or gadgets, but to discover their priceless secrets hidden beneath the leaves of these pages as notes are jotted upon them in a frayed composition book of nameless effects, unpublished poetry, and un-booked show scripts no one will see. I didn't come for their autographs, their passport-like stamps of name-validating approval, or the music of their praises sung out loud: I seek new ears with which to hear their perspectives. As I'm nameless, I'm also formless, so I seek impact with each outlook-breaking act they can hit me between the eyes with. In the tradition of travelers, I seek new eyes with which to stay awake and read the stories behind the names of their greatest teachers, the gleam of their souls behind those stories as they tell it in a bar just before last call. As I'm no one, I seek for a moment to become one with this lost magic civilization of which I've exiled myself from, no ID, cup emptied, I'll have it filled to the brim with another beer, the cheers of our reunion breaking the night and all the silence between.
0 Comments
|
The Move UnseenA blog for magic. Archives
August 2020
Categories
All
|