Elijah

Yesterday, a crow

alighted on a branch

half way up the tree

just outside our home.

He sat there for

much of the morning,

cawing from time to time,

expanding his feathers

as I walked near, and

one or two times feigning to

fly away. He did not.

I fed him three hamburgers

and several whole

wheat rolls. He gladly ate them,

and managed off with what he

did not eat there on the spot.

To where I do not know.

Except that it was just over the bluff

of snow on the edge of the forest

of tall pines.

I called him Elijah.

He flew to me at the end of the day,

landing fifteen feet from where I stood.

He mumbled something in crow,

I am sure it was to tell me “thank you” or

that “the meat would have been better raw”,

but, whatever he said, he said it while

bounding toward me one hop

at a time. He left.

He was not there this morning, but two

new crows took the chicken that

I left out for Elijah. They were

skittish, though, jumping into flight

as soon as I left the house. They did

not turn back to offer thanks

or complain about the meal. They

flew in the thick of the pines,

never to be seen again.

The chance encounters we have

with nature call forth something

deep in us. Some primal passion of

being in harmony with the ALL.

I wonder, would these birds

all become my family if

my life took a downward turn and

I lived among the fields and

caves as a wildman or hermit.

We stand on the outer edge of a larger

circle of life than we could ever imagine

only because we have kept its rugged

simplicity at bay for “greater things”.

What does the crow know of digital

communication. Can a bear know of a

downturned market. Have we stretched

the canvas of our lives tightly over

the original painting of unity

and harmony – all for a shadowed

image of what lies hidden beneath.

It comes to us,

many times in a lifetime,

cawing to us to remove

the canvas that covers

our original face.

Most often, we are

headed somewhere else

and do not take the time

to feel its presence already

deep within our core. We move on,

afraid of what our lives would

look like, if we received gifts

from the crows.

Ciao!

tjm+

That Central Thing; or, A Philosophy of the Nautilus

What is it
that passes through
the chambers
of the Nautilus;

what holds it all
as one and brings
the "each and every"
into the disparate

compartments of being.

Is it a membrane
or an ethereal soul
that joins the
"each and every"
of the portions of
the one.

The first is held by
the last and the
middle is fed by the
beginning and the end.

Its very local-nature
is non-local by design;
the "this" is held by the "that"
and the other by the
"that" as well.

It is an icon of
the "I and Thou"
wrapped up in a shell.

What is it

that passes through

the chambers

of the Nautilus;

and like our own

being, is it a fleshy chord

that ties the whole 

thing into oneness 

or a specter - a spirit -

that gives the thing

its core - its life.

Or, is that membrane

soul.  Is that strand

a lifeline outside the shell

into the ALL of our very

breath. 

This tiny shell

a part of the whole.

The membrane a 

simple stairway to 

heaven.

Or, is a shell

a shell, and I have

simply had

too much espresso.

Ciao!

tjm+

One Sound

One sound
simple
soft and subtle

can take our heart
into unknown lands.

A bird

calling from its
perch in the
tree

over head
can cause a
turn in

the glance

and seeing
the eyes
of the
tufted
feathered
fowl

drops the
feeling

into the heart
and
you are gone

wrapped in awe,
in wonder,

in radical
amazement.

The fear
that is in
a grain of sand

and a handful
of dust

tips the world
into a rhythmic
dance

the dance
of oneness.

______

Ciao!

+Tom