somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
Beautiful, isn’t it?
I only wish I could claim authorship.
No, this was the work of the incomparable master of sensuality & love: ee cummings. (all lowercase letters, don’t ask me why?)
His deepest explorations into the meanings of love using the tools of the sensual to unleash the wonders of a lover brings to my diseased mind the endless fascination of celestial beauty that spurred on the voyage to the moon in Jules S. Verne’s “The Moon Voyage”. Here is the first paragraph from his chapter V entitled, “The Romance of the Moon” which discusses the formation of the universe:
“The spectator endowed with infinite power of sight, and placed at the unknown centre round which gravitates the universe, would have seen myriads of atoms filling all space during the chaotic epoch of creation. But by degrees, as centuries went on, a change took place; a law of gravitation manifested itself which the wandering atoms obeyed; these atoms, combined chemically according to their affinities, formed themselves into molecules, and made those nebulous masses with which the depths of the heavens are strewed.”
That chaotic epoch of creation, steeped in love for under any scenario of the universal beginnings that you can imagine it is the powers of attraction, that most basic law of Nature that formed those heavenly bodies. Gravity is nothing more than attraction, a wanting, a needing, an endless pull toward one another.
That’s what started it all.
Love in all it’s glory & madness.
Love in it’s nascent molten hot galaxial passion.
It’s that star that suddenly increases exponentially in luminosity exploding catastropically before ejecting all of its mass.
Love in its more sustainable form, after the cooling of its initial supernoval state of splendor that allows life as we know it to exist.
Kinda sorta sounds like what we earthlings experience as our forays into love & desire, doesn’t it?
Hard not to see the parallels between the rhythms of the spheres of paradise and those of earthly inhabitants. Easy to understand why we feel the need to explore both. Why all those NASA engineers kept sending Apollo mission after Apollo mission to the moon.
The search for understanding ourselves & universal life as we know it, is the search for love… the final frontier… like the search for knowing the “unknowable” yet to be be tangibly seen & felt true fabric of the universe is always compelling.
Shouldn’t we do better things with our time than sit in front of our computers in this world wide circle jerk, trying to discern the meaning of life & love? I mean the laundry is piling up, people!!!
Johannes Kepler, the great German astronomer, that mad believer in the Copernican theory who took it to its next logical progression from describing Copernicus’ planetary orbits of perfect circles to the now known orbit of ellipses, was accused of what modern astronomers called “cosmological hedonism”.
The claim was that his language suggests a kind of sexualized universal energy and joy pervading the nature of all things that ultimately emanated from God, a being that he worshipped as a “kind creator”.
In 1596, he wrote of astronomy a sort of ode to joy & love,
“Must one measure the value of the heavenly objects with dimes, as one does food?
But, pray, one will ask, what is the good of the knowledge of all astronomy, to an empty stomach…
Painters are allowed to go on with their work because they give joy to the eyes, musicians because they bring joy to the ears, though they are of no other use to us…
What insensibility, what stupidity, to deny the spirit an honest pleasure but permit it to the eyes & ears!
He who fights against that joy fights against that nature.”
Yeah, good old Johannes would have been all for Oprah & “Dr.” Phil. He had that “sacred madness”. The pleasure that he felt in scientific research was a visceral one. He totally got off on exploring the sensual music of the spheres.
He was the author of what was then a new genre of literature called “the first modern scientific moon-voyage”. It is a document full of emotion that delves into the voyage of his unconscious mind.
It also pre-dated Freud’s much later writings because while in his sexual explorations into space & mind, he used his oedipal dreams about his mother to describe his fantasy journeys to the moon.
See… it’s all about S-E-X!!!
Every exploration is a penetration, be it of space, mind or body. That knowing between the seeker and the sought after is always a consummation divinely to be wished.
Even the purest explorations of the divine from the most celibate saints are called ecstatic. Think that’s a coincidence? Be it tantric or catholic ecstatics the rapture of knowing is the attraction.
That is what love & sexual exploration are, after all.
The knowing, the telling, the yearning, the needing, the madness drives us to plunge into the other, head first & steep ourselves in their otherness until we are submerged in a roiling sea of sweat and sweetness, rollicking in rapturous rhythms and melodies.
It’s the music of the spheres.
I quote one of cyberspace’s own intrepid explorer’s along this frontier of love. I read it in just Dale’s space some time ago, this is one of many of his astonishing gems that sent me off on this tangental rocket ship to the moon. It’s number 7 out of top 10 checklist of things the man had learned in a single week of healing & cohesion:
“That this thing called Love makes no sense at all. It breaks all the rules. It is a seed that grows inside the crack in a rock. It cares not about want, or care, or smart. It is the face that shows itself at 3:15 am.”
Indeed, it is.
That’s what makes it so goddamn fascinating.
That’s why I, like ee cummings and countless road warriors before me, will continue to travel through the sometimes terrifying territory, sometimes familiar, often not.
This blog was written as my justification to myself for going to bed at all hours with a need to rise & begin again before that raveled sleeve of care has felt one bit of the pearl stitch that is promised to us by sleep, often seeing that haunted, hollow-eyed 3:15 am face that beckons to me,
“C.C. come, you know there’s work to be done. Don’t just lie there woman, rise and shine. There are heavens to be explored.”
It’s like Spock’s mind meld with V’GER.
(V’Ger is a sentient being that evolved from Voyager 6, a fictitious space probe from the 20th Century that vanished into a black hole and was given life by a race of living machine in the original Star Trek film)
Totally mindblowing, it is so braingasmic:
I feel like V’GER wanting to know his maker and understand the why for his endless quest. With a hunger so powerful that it nearly destroys itself and everything in its quest for knowledge.
I mean look at what VGER did to Spock…
Imagine how my poor hubby feels.
V’GER’s quest was from that incredibly philosophical movie of the one & only true Star Trek series, the original with the hunky Captain Kirk, Spock, & Bones who our pal -slj would tell me is known as “Pille” in Germany.
(Steve once also rightly points out that the guy was a pill, pain-in-the-ass really… but that would be a ridiculously long word in German, those Aryans do like to string their words together into a long train wreck for the verbally challenged. I mean Dr. Seuss was of German heritage, need I say more? It’s a vast third reich conspiracy for mental domination!!! :D).
Well, it’s also the opening of those tender petals and their closing with every expiration of a lover’s breath…. and beautiful songs this that explore the tenderest, most painful but ultimately hopeful feelings that a crazy little thing with four letters and infinite appeal has:
Here’s the fabulous Bette Midler & “The Rose”:
Some say love it is a river
that drowns the tender reed
Some say love it is a razor
that leaves your soul to bleed
Some say love it is a hunger
an endless aching need
I say love it is a flower
and you it’s only seed
It’s the heart afraid of breaking
that never learns to dance
It’s the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance
It’s the one who won’t be taken
who cannot seem to give
and the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live
When the night has been too lonely
and the road has been too long
and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winterfar beneath the bitter snows
lies the seed
that with the sun’s love
in the spring
becomes the rose.
Roger that, Houston!!!
Countdown has begun.
T minus 10..9..8..7
The sky shots were taken from my last plane trip with my iPhone. Fun!
The peony was taken with a Nikon digital camera.
Can’t take credit for the Apollo 13 shots, though :(
What are you shooting for?
What makes you jump out of bed to face the day?
Is it love or other things stranger than fiction?
Curious minds NEED to know…