What we learn from all of this chaos is that it really is a misnomer – we can predict how things will be in the future based on their or our initial conditions so in this way, what appears to be random is then not so random afterall. There appears to be a randomness but it is a sleight of hand. A magician’s cheap trick. Some, although not all, things (the caveat there) are simply meant to be and one can usually tell these things because it is a fight you have with yourself and yourself only - fighting and fighting and fighting and fight as you will, you find yourself fighting only yourself and with an environment that otherwise and everywhere Yes which echoes loud and clear.
This is not a bad thing. I speak not here of things that are “pre-determined” – for no Calvinist I – because I do not believe that it is anyone’s plan for us to have world genocide, the Union Carbide’s of the world, nuclear war (I cop the lines from a song here, but they apply) and more - cancers, illness, suffering.
So what do you do then if this is you and your boat has been “struck down”? You are there in the depths, fathoms deep, against “a great thing.” What are you up against anyway? Could it be madness this? It is something like that, isn’t it… Midsummer madness. Chalk it up to that, for it certainly can’t be more. You are so sure of it. Yes, you tell yourself. You have never been surer of anything.
Jimenez is right when he asks of himself, of us, Has nothing happened or everything? Which is it? Everything has happened and you know it. It is the only explanation for such things – how you move through the day; how without any change you become aware of your body in ways that before seemed black and white and now are in color; how you feel the blood rushing now to the body’s four corners … you spin on your axis, dizzied, giddy, held within the palm of the world for this or that moment at different times and in the presence of who – when you think of whom?
On this day there is the scent of the summer. These are our sensibilities. This is the scent of being in love, mown grass and honeyed-kisses and all around you the distinct smell of frankincense while the thurible swings and the whole of this is wholly unexpected, yet holy.
This is the new life.
summer solstice, 2007