Mervyn Reminded Us...

 

AI Generated

Mervyn reminded us often during meetings 

about the importance of crystallizing in our verifications. 

I see him gesturing with his hands in front of his chest 

as he mimes stringing single pearls onto a string, 

each one a verification.

Listening to Mervyn 

I remember being drawn to the image of a pearl. 

Mervyn described the great rarity 

of a single pearl's miraculous existence. 

It seemed impossible 

that what he described 

could be a pearl's path to creation, 

the irritation inside the oyster 

of many single grains of sand. 

I knew I would be home 

looking this image up later 

and departed easily from the I'd 

of my lunar fascination 

with facts and science 

because Mervyn was guiding the conversation 

along to the pearl's relevance to awakening 

and mechanical friction.

Why is the string of the necklace in my attention 

now after all these years?

The string must be strong and flexible 

and can be seen as the essential vehicle 

for the collection of verifications. 

It can be worn, 

and that distinguishes it from loose pearls 

in a collection box or bag. 

In this way it can be described as sacred 

because without these verifications 

Mervyn saw another path 

where we could lose the work.

Over time I understood that concepts can be verified. 

It starts with the question: 

How can I verify this? 

Then the journey begins. 

Life and the play 

provide answers in their own time.

Perhaps it is this questioning 

that is the invisible, yet essential, 

rigor required that strengthens the string, 

our being.

~M

https://linktr.ee/academyofeuropeanarts

Dark Night Of The Soul...

 

 

Nicole Haimar

“Dark Night of the Soul

On a dark night,

Kindled in love with yearnings

—oh, happy chance!—

I went forth without being observed,

My house being now at rest.

In darkness and secure,

By the secret ladder, disguised

—oh, happy chance!—

In darkness and in concealment,

My house being now at rest.

In the happy night,

In secret, when none saw me,

Nor I beheld aught,

Without light or guide,

save that which burned in my heart.

This light guided me

More surely than the light of noonday

To the place where he (well I knew who!)

was awaiting me—

A place where none appeared.

Oh, night that guided me,

Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,

Oh, night that joined

Beloved with lover,

Lover transformed in the Beloved!

Upon my flowery breast,

Kept wholly for himself alone,

There he stayed sleeping,

and I caressed him,

And the fanning of the cedars made a breeze.

The breeze blew from the turret

As I parted his locks;

With his gentle hand

he wounded my neck

And caused all my senses to be suspended.

I remained, lost in oblivion;

My face I reclined on the Beloved.

All ceased and I abandoned myself,

Leaving my cares

forgotten among the lilies.”

― St. John of the Cross

https://linktr.ee/academyofeuropeanarts

On The Detour...

 

On the detour of seeking "perfection," 

there was a time in my life 

when I carried around inside myself 

a sense of shame that I was imperfect, 

that I made mistakes, 

that I couldn't get everything "just right." 

A very wise woman one day said to me 

"What right have YOU to be perfect?" 

And I thought about that deeply 

and how even my highest heroes had imperfections, 

and YES, those very flaws 

were what made them unique, human, personal. 

It was a Kairos moment for me. 

Giving up the HUBRIS 

of thinking I could be perfect. 

And yet there is something "perfect" 

which is willing to make its home in us, 

to grace us with miraculous happenings, 

if we can simply get these silly notions of "perfection" 

out of the way, 

that illusion that we can control everything (or ANYTHING!).

~J

https://linktr.ee/academyofeuropeanarts