Wednesday, July 6, 2016

Meditation on Sensory Experience

Sometimes I will press pause and let the ear buds fall away,
And emerge into raven squawks and sharp trills, 
and the low, melancholy cry of the morning dove.

I am jarred into the humming of bees,
the kiss of wind,
and the scent of wild, sweet anise.

Only after I am plunged back into reality, 
do I stop to pluck a shoot,
and chew the green, licorice stem between my teeth
and think,
"I am here. This is my hand."

But when suddenly confronted with the burden of realization,
I reel back from the responsibility
owed by one who acts in the world.

To truly BE HERE
 is to see here,
smell here,
taste here,
act here,
grow here,
suffer here,
die here.

But sometimes I would rather just
drift off on waves of sound
into thought-scapes,
where there is no
crunch of dirt beneath my feet,
or sound of arguing ravens,
or hum of bees,
or burden of action.

I am caught between the imaginary and the sensory.
But oh to glory in the sound a pine trees makes when the wind sweeps through it!

But so often the sensory world betrays me,
in the choppy drone of a SESNA overhead---the wheeze of an old car engine---the choking stink of exhaust---the bright BRIGHT sun on concrete---the screech of a child---the violent squeaking of breaks on tires ---

To be outside is to be assaulted by senses. 
I wish reality would, rather,
embrace me gently.