The Magic Circle

A blown husk that is finished
but the light sings eternal
a pale flare over marshes
where the salt hay whispers to tide's change...
---Ezra.

The circle of the self is broken by what is other.

The invisible things of God are clearly seen.
---Iris M.
(with thanks to Beth for drawing me here)

The philosophical mind will say, half-heartedly: 'the other'. And who can blame the thinker? We've always been intrigued by what came before us, what comes after us, what disrupts thought, and there's a certain charm in drawing a veil over what cannot be named. But it's bad manners, always prying like that. Let it be. One wonders if our problems stem from our inability to give thanks for what is 'given'...give us this day our daily bread....

But there are other places, second spaces, all around us. Not some deep centre residing within (no Sufism for us!) but there..and there..and there. It is just a matter of tilting your head at the right angle to the universe, of holding on. Attentiveness, attachments. Alif is all you need. The one thing necessary.

Thought has exhausted itself. The moderns want to carry on to the bitter end. Tortured thought. But it was here all along. Hushed voice, downward gaze, the soft dew of early morning, the smell of fresh coffee, the sigh of youth, the laughter of children, the fading winter light, the heart that endures, the open hand, deepening shadows...in our knowledge of death we are superior to God (the Allama).

Perhaps the circle is broken. The fire is extinguished. No more wild leaps into the unknown. But let there be no remorse; we shall not untie our hair, or blacken our faces. For where others see a void I see a brilliant white circle, full of things we hold dear. And even if they convince you that the circle is broken, remember that the memory of it is eternal, and its light undiminished, unconquered.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Some people in this day and age still want to talk about triangles, so I give them this as food for thought.