Wednesday, December 20, 2017

Ode to Joy


Your thoughts go where they have been. Have you noticed? Like horses on a hobby farm, they follow the well-worn, familiar track. And when they get back, you stroke them and feed them. And they reward you in turn with doleful eyes, when you are sad, with a playful nibble when you are glad, and with a sigh that echoes the boredom of your command. Now, look at your hand. Behold the miracle of its lines and creases. Where has it been? Is it an instrument of grace, or destruction? Both, perhaps. It depends on how aware you are of your thoughts, how aware of which are truly useful and needed, and which are merely comforting noise, like a radio playing oldies in the background, with your ego the relentlessly predictable deejay. How noble! And then, suddenly, you hear Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy.” And then, birdsong. And then, the silence of all eternity:



Ode to Joy

2010



6 comments:

Marion said...

...which is why I love dreaming. In my lucid dreams, I fly like a Hawk and laugh like my heart is not shattered. It is a gift from God. xo

William Michaelian said...

And a gift from yourself, through yourself, to yourself. A freedom-reminder, of something you already know. Thank you, Marion.

*** said...

Sometimes these ponies go where I never want to go

maybe they are trying to take me back to a dark place
where I once had been

before I was born
this time

unbridled
feeding on my fear

until the birds lift me, again

so many today, an eagle, several red tail hawks, and always a crow or two
but the starling murmuration, again, carried the day, and me, into a bright and starry night

the birds and then, of course, your verse

joy

William Michaelian said...

As here the robins, which seem to be expecting snow.

*** said...

Today is what I often refer to as the quintessential Northwest winter day. Overcast, light rain, and plenty of chill in the air. I didn't live up, over-there for very long, but today I feel the place as if I'm still there, so I guess I am.

Let it rain. If it's to be. The river is low as were (are) the reservoirs along the way to New England.

I'm more mindful these days to not ask for what I think we need - since it's increasingly clear that I don't have a clue.

All of this may be true, but the 'what I'd like to sees' still arise and more and more often they rhythmically, gracefully, dutifully show up.

As do the robins,

starlings and crows.

William Michaelian said...

Indeed they do. As for a clue, I’m with you.