Tiny Branches that Hold Up the Moon by Danielle Sainte-Marie I have seen tiny branches hold up the moon, water open doors but not be impugned; like a dirt-cravened, wide-eyed woman falling into a ditch, I am the poetess, surprised the pen is her niche. I have seen clouds patrolling the waistline of a woman, She who brings storms just by being feminine— a pocket-sized woman yet with power over the spacial, I have written of our equator as being her navel. I have seen all the world’s truths in the bow of a student, with confidence and humbleness, he was fluent— and I thought, “the heaviest ships still float on the sea, but can be sunk by one normal, everyday flea.” Because, I have seen a paper put into a bottle, and watched it dance with the ocean, a constant wobble— known of it making its way across the world, where for an idiot its message was unfurled. I have seen how delusion curves the road ahead, and when free of doubt, the road straightens instead. I have had 6 seconds to choke out a light millions of years away, so I turned the rushlight off, and called it “child’s play.” People have asked me to pray that a loved one gets well, so I just got up and walked around and broke the spell; I was once asked to recite my poems with one breath and one omit, so I exhaled loudly and said, “That’s the half of it.” And again about those branches: I have seen a person enter one, he put it inside his jacket and the deed was done. Later, we decided to walk around the earth, and so we did—in steps around the living room we set forth. I have seen presents made with string around empty space; noticed the way the air was so pretty in shimmers and lace. I crossed every bridge by stepping over just one puddle, built every building with the completion of a jigsaw puzzle. When asked who created the world, I simply bowed, to this other confused god, an answer I felt I owed. When she was holding a statue of the Buddha and asking where it should go, I simply fluffed up for her a few nice pillows. I heard a politician speak and the rest of the world went deaf; I saw a farmer sow and then someone else became a chef. When the lights go out, where do they go? I think they must have been needed again by Van Gogh. And when I looked for Buddha and for Christ, I heard their sayings in the dog that barked twice; for all around me has been amazing mystery; I hope you too have eyes so closed that you can finally see. (Explanation) I have seen tiny branches hold up the moon, water open doors but not be impugned; like a dirt-cravened, wide-eyed woman falling into a ditch, I am the poetess, surprised the pen is her niche. (From a certain perspective, it appears with the eye that the moon is being held up by a tree’s branches. I have watched floods do horrible damage, opening doors and crashing into homes, but yet the water is not condemned for being what it is. The woman here craves dirt but she is not in it until she “falls.” Is it an accident? I wonder. The dirt represents the Shadowy side of ourselves that we want but deny. Sometimes, even today, I am surprised that I am a poetess. What does it really mean to be so, and why do I love this pen so much?) I have seen clouds patrolling the waistline of a woman, She who brings storms just by being feminine— a pocket-sized woman yet with power over the spacial, I have written of our equator as being her navel. (There is a strong feeling towards the Gaia Principle today—that of the entire planet being an ecosystem. So, I imagined that her (the earth’s) waistline would be the equator—and that her personality would be up, then down, producing clouds “just for being feminine.” But, then I flipped the idea on its head and said she is pocket-sized. The earth is, in fact, much less than that in the total universe. And yet, even in its tininess it has power in space to command a presence. When viewed up close by a human being, the earth may seem to be immense. Yet, it’s really not. Or is it? The final line eludes to her—our earth—as being our birth mother, as the navel [the equator, outside center of the planet] is where the umbilicus is attached.) I have seen all the world’s truths in the bow of a student, with confidence and humbleness, he was fluent— and I thought, “the heaviest ships still float on the sea, but can be sunk by one normal, everyday flea.” (With the bow of a student, it implies that he/she has acknowledged they are learning and are grateful for the opportunity. Being fluent [comfortable and efficient with] confidence and humbleness in one’s search for knowledge is when the truth of the world can come to the student. In Quantum Physics, we know that it is possible for an elephant to avoid falling off a cliff by wrapping its tail around a flower. This thought about the heaviest ship being sunk by a flea is a reminder that anything can happen in this life—so plan out your life jackets and escape routes accordingly.) Because, I have seen a paper put into a bottle, and watched it dance with the ocean, a constant wobble— known of it making its way across the world, where for an idiot its message was unfurled. (This message is simple: some of the greatest teachings in the world have made it through amazing times and harsh environments to come down to us today. Those who read these messages and wantonly discard them as meaningless are truly idiots who are not even making an attempt to grow to their fullest.) I have seen how delusion curves the road ahead, and when free of doubt, the road straightens instead. I have had 6 seconds to choke out a light millions of years away, so I turned the rushlight off, and called it “child’s play.” (The road stays the same, but our perspectives of it [that is, this road we call life with all its attendant problems] changes the ease of its travel. Straight, in this context, refers to noble and true, and curved refers to confusion and doubt. Since we are all connected, and all as One, is there really any difference between snuffing out a rushlight [candle] here on this planet or extinguishing a light millions of years away? Life can trap you with questions like this. But, if you choose the Oneness and believe in it, then a light here is a light there.) People have asked me to pray that a loved one gets well, so I just got up and walked around and broke the spell; I was once asked to recite my poems with one breath and one omit, so I exhaled loudly and said, “That’s the half of it.” (I live my life as a walking, breathing prayer, because I realize no petition to the universe is necessary for change to come about. One only need breathe with purity. So, when friends ask me to pray for someone, I never do it. It’s silly. Besides, they always want something unrealistic: they want to change, or go against, nature. I, however, have chosen to flow with nature, and thus all my prayers are answered, each and every one, all the time, and no vocalization is necessary. I can hope that a sick person accepts their sickness and finds peace of mind, but that’s about it. Illness is a part of life, and so is what we term “death.” It’s not a big deal, it really isn’t. To recite my poems in one breath would be an impossible task, on its surface. But, to realize that all things are done in one breath—that the entire of life is One Breath, then it can be done. But, the other trick of this question was asking me to omit something, so I only did the exhale. What was omitted was the inhale, also known as inspiration—my secret ingredient that I use to create.) And again about those branches: I have seen a person enter one, he put it inside his jacket and the deed was done. Later, we decided to walk around the earth, and so we did—in steps around the living room we set forth. (How does one enter a branch? This is a Zen problem, and the problem lies with one’s perception of the word “enter,” and one’s perception of what is possible. But, all is possible, and there are no entrances (births) and no exits (deaths). That’s all an illusion. What we have is a branch made up of atoms and molecules just like us. We are already at one with the branch, but to solve the problem in a vivid way, we tuck the branch inside our jacket, and now we are seen as truly one with the branch. But! Which was the real branch, the human or that thing from a tree? Who entered whom? Another mind trick. To walk around the earth makes someone think that they must set out on a journey to walk around its circumference. But, according to the definition of “around,” one can walk around a pile of dirt or any space at all, and say they walked around the earth.) I have seen presents made with string around empty space; noticed the way the air was so pretty in shimmers and lace. I crossed every bridge by stepping over just one puddle, built every building with the completion of a jigsaw puzzle. (This was inspired by seeing used gift wrappings lying on the floor. I thought, “What a pretty way to package the air.” The present seemed to be the space inside the wrappings—and what a treasured thing it is to us, yes? In the actions of stepping over one puddle [crossing a body of water], you have done the same action that has ever been done on any bridge before. This is Oneness. What if the puzzle, when put together, said, “I have built every building.” That’s one way to look at this line. But, another way is to think of it like this: the action of building, like the above idea of the puddle and the bridge, is the same no matter what you are building. I built a puzzle, and this was the same spirit and emotional movement that built any building in the world.) When asked who created the world, I simply bowed, to this other confused god, an answer I felt I owed. When she was holding a statue of the Buddha and asking where it should go, I simply fluffed up for her a few nice pillows. (The world is created in our image: what we see is what we often come to believe, even though it’s an illusion. On a deeper note, the elements that make me up are the same elements that make up the world. And, the earth and I [and you] were all created by stars. So, the earth created I, I created the world, and stars created us all. To think further, you will realize that we created the stars as well, making us the gods of gods. The confused god is the one asking me the question about who created the world. I call her a confused god because she doesn’t realize her own power, nor understands that she created the world. So, the confused god was holding a statue of the Buddha—an enlightened being—and asking where it should go. I simply responded by recognizing her [not the statue] as the Buddha, and made some pillows fluffy for her to sit on.) I heard a politician speak and the rest of the world went deaf; I saw a farmer sow and then someone else became a chef. When the lights go out, where do they go? I think they must have been needed again by Van Gogh. (It’s amazing how a politician can speak to the entire world and yet, have no real power to make anyone listen or believe what they say. They have abused this astounding privilege they have with lies and by generating mistrust. Where does light go when it is extinguished? Instead of getting into the science of it, I thought: “Well, when a great painter paints, some of the light is forever captured in her or his work, is it not?” Thus, the Van Gogh comment.) And when I looked for Buddha and for Christ, I heard their sayings in the dog that barked twice; for all around me has been amazing mystery; I hope you too have eyes so closed that you can finally see. (The thing is, the sayings of Buddha and Christ—and all the other great sages—exist in the tiniest sounds of nature, if only one knows how to listen correctly and extract the information. A dove came to Christ and gave him strength and wisdom. A white elephant with six white tusks helped conceive the Buddha. The dog that barked twice is a double entendre: two barks for Buddha and Christ, and two for the first Magic Number in science. Everywhere I have traveled has held amazing mystery, but it is only when our eyes are “closed” that we can begin to see its beauty. In fact, it’s the person who thinks he knows all about this mystery of life that never sees he is lost. Only the humble one will find it.)
Posted on: Wed, 23 Oct 2013 15:22:08 +0000