Words come to me in the slow places,
In quiet moments;
I wonder of the angels and muses that place them so carefully.
If my life seems out of focus,
A whirlwind of variety and interest,
I don't despair of it;
It is my joy.
The ground for all these words is deep and fertile,
Nurtured by experience and curiosity,
Watered by a lifetime of reading,
Turned and planted in the quiet hours of solitude.
There is an ocean in each of us,
Filled with fish only we will ever catch,
Darting and whirling and sparkling,
Glinting for our eyes only,
Only a few ever netted and shared.
Like all poets,
I love swimming.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12-31-2011
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
The Poetry Of Position...
Recently, I have taken up studying Tai Chi Chuan as a substitute for Karate, which I greatly missed after moving from where my Dojo is.
I have always thought of Tai Chi Chuan as graceful and elegant. I also was dimly aware that it involves working with "chi," or the spirit-energy of the body.
In taking up this teaching, I have found that aspect difficult, but worth pursuing.
Today, I am reading issue #72 of Sacred Hoop magazine. It contains an article on shamanic "poses," from various cultures around the world, with a focus on prehistoric Crete.
My mind instantly made the connection the coonection between the highly-structured positions and movements in Tai Chi Chuan and the shamanic poses in the article.
A key point in the article is that the shamanic poses are accompanied by a rhythmic rattle sound near 200 beats per minute, and the combination of pose and auditory stimulation from the rattle enable "visions" of alternate realities and spirits, with no hallucinigens.
I now find myself wondering if there is a traditional auditory component to Tai Chi Chuan. There is no mention of it in my current teaching. If there isn't, I am curious about introducing shamanic rattling or drumming in Tai Chi Chuan practice.
If anyone has knowledge on this subject, I would like to hear of it.
In peace and harmony,
Dan
I have always thought of Tai Chi Chuan as graceful and elegant. I also was dimly aware that it involves working with "chi," or the spirit-energy of the body.
In taking up this teaching, I have found that aspect difficult, but worth pursuing.
Today, I am reading issue #72 of Sacred Hoop magazine. It contains an article on shamanic "poses," from various cultures around the world, with a focus on prehistoric Crete.
My mind instantly made the connection the coonection between the highly-structured positions and movements in Tai Chi Chuan and the shamanic poses in the article.
A key point in the article is that the shamanic poses are accompanied by a rhythmic rattle sound near 200 beats per minute, and the combination of pose and auditory stimulation from the rattle enable "visions" of alternate realities and spirits, with no hallucinigens.
I now find myself wondering if there is a traditional auditory component to Tai Chi Chuan. There is no mention of it in my current teaching. If there isn't, I am curious about introducing shamanic rattling or drumming in Tai Chi Chuan practice.
If anyone has knowledge on this subject, I would like to hear of it.
In peace and harmony,
Dan
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Drums, Bones, and Stones...
There is an ancient rhythm that beats upon the skin of the world, in the wash of waves upon shorelines, the beating of myriad hearts, the breath of winds in trees.
Seeing is an early and childish beleif borne upon the drumskin of reality that requires no insight or quiet.
Ancient stones whisper wonders and dreams in lonely or forgotten places, attached to our souls with the thinnest unbreakable threads of continuity. Their call is heard in the fleeting glimpse of a photograph, a pull we can forget but never truly deny.
Drum softly, children, but drum. When the rarity of silence alone is found treasure, calm the whispers of desperate mind, fill the emptiness and void with drumbeats. Betwixt the rhythm and silences bones may speak, a reminder and lesson, a dream of whence we came and must at times return.
Everything speaks when the ears are busy with listening. This happens with an ease forgotten in commotion and remembered in stillness. A glove of gentle answers awaits the hand of Winter, even if Summer never ceases to sing.
Fish can cry for bees no longer found, wanting for flowers in a land standing full of order imposed ignorantly. Bones lie everywhere that is, for nowhere has been dead, no place is bereft of stories, nothing is empty except the visions of un-trained blindness.
Always whisper a question to the drums, always listen for answers, always remember the value of closed eyes in small moments away from the forest of incessant noise that can never fill us full.
Keep moving the hand upon the drum of breath, make the rhythm wash the stones and stars, every living thing knows.
AquarianM
Seeing is an early and childish beleif borne upon the drumskin of reality that requires no insight or quiet.
Ancient stones whisper wonders and dreams in lonely or forgotten places, attached to our souls with the thinnest unbreakable threads of continuity. Their call is heard in the fleeting glimpse of a photograph, a pull we can forget but never truly deny.
Drum softly, children, but drum. When the rarity of silence alone is found treasure, calm the whispers of desperate mind, fill the emptiness and void with drumbeats. Betwixt the rhythm and silences bones may speak, a reminder and lesson, a dream of whence we came and must at times return.
Everything speaks when the ears are busy with listening. This happens with an ease forgotten in commotion and remembered in stillness. A glove of gentle answers awaits the hand of Winter, even if Summer never ceases to sing.
Fish can cry for bees no longer found, wanting for flowers in a land standing full of order imposed ignorantly. Bones lie everywhere that is, for nowhere has been dead, no place is bereft of stories, nothing is empty except the visions of un-trained blindness.
Always whisper a question to the drums, always listen for answers, always remember the value of closed eyes in small moments away from the forest of incessant noise that can never fill us full.
Keep moving the hand upon the drum of breath, make the rhythm wash the stones and stars, every living thing knows.
AquarianM
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