mysticism

What Shall Break Through

1
Unreadiness

Winter quiet
Though it’s weeks
Away
The sky is thinking on it
And the ground becomes more laden
Storing what it needs to store
Welcoming the flora
Fauna
That shall be sleeping there

It looks like snow
And if I were outside
I might say it smells like snow as well
Breathes
The new season
However apprehensively
About extremities
Of ice in breath
And snow
That the insides of our bodies
Will not be ready for
If ever

Like the extremes of summer
I suppose

2
Birth of a Mystic

Still
And still
Like the monk
The hermit
I await
And
Yes
These could be women
And each was

The desert mothers
Julian and cat
(female or male cat
I do not know
or
if there were ever
any kittens)

Hildegard
Teresa
Evelyn for the moderns
And who waits inside the cave
For insight now

Who bears the vision
We shall hear about
That
Shall be approved

A new generation
One of those young persons
Who dreamed dreams
And set them down
Enough
For publication
Or simply hearing here and there
Now and then
Until
The books
With illustrations
Shall appear
And we shall know we have something
Set
And new

3
Dream Dreams

And shall the winter bring them on
The ordinary
And the visionary
Angels adept upon the scene
To work
With mortals
To let grace behind the curtain
Become miracle
Upon the stage

Though none of it is acting
Though it might be staged like
Jacob
Or like Bethlehem
Or the leaping suns
At Fatima

Or like the truce of 1914
That was like
That was
Grace
And miracle as well
Human gifts
No doubt angel-approved
When all could breathe
A moment
Inside heaven
While on the field
The wired
Trenched
And blooded field
There could be such a peace
For a few hours
Even gifts and photographs
To mark
The Christmas season

And now
I am afield
Dealing in ordinary mystics
But they’re there
They’re here
Thank goodness
And with
The names
And books
And famous patroned pets
Shall breathe in each of us beholding

C L Couch

Photo by Karsten Winegeart on Unsplash

The Mystic, Ordinary Process
(for Evelyn Underhill)

Live the way I want
To
Which would mean
Living with you
With your nearness
With
Your love
And as a recipient of mine

Learning anew to pray
Into the world
For everything that’s wrong
And to keep
As in care for
Everything
That’s right

To practice confessing
Beyond
I’m sorry
To live out penance
Through listening
Responding to the world
And what is needed
Here

There is
So much to do
At Pooh Corner
Though contemplatives might say
The real action
As is said of many things
Is actually in the heart
And in the head
As vessels of the Spirit
Even launchpoints
For the Lord
To think
Canaveral about it all

Then to the world
To the rawness of it
To the terrors
And the grossness
And also
To the beauty
Of it all

This is
So strange
To say

And will you be with me
When my dignity’s
Surrendered
And I stand bloodied
Before
Ersatz courts
Places of injustice
Even fortresses
From which I know
Nothing
Of the entrance
Or the exit

My way through
Must be with you
Even if I’m on the way
To an earthly version
Of infernos
Not because
There is a heaven
On the other side of that
(I’m not that smart
to know)
But because I’m trying
(yes
I know
I’m trying
hah)
And you honor me enough
Bestowing companionship
Which is
I know
Enormous honor

So be with me simply
Because simple
Is all I really know
Not without art
Or an acknowledgement of grace
To have things
Understood as
Special
When things are barely moving
Or
Even in crisis
Something remarkable
(dare I say
amazing)
And when it’s quiet
And as
Such
The hour is
Still
And it’s
Simple
Easy
Once again

Plus there might be someone
And-or
It’s the two
Or three
Or four of us
And that’s a party
In which
Loving things are said
Loving games are played
And we discuss
The nature
And the aspects
And
Well
The now
Also into the future
Of everything

Foray into the past
When necessary
To keep the rest
I know
Real

But it’s now
And you are now
Help me
Forgive me
Stay with me
As I would be with you
Perfectly
But so imperfectly
For now
Until you teach me
In a place of
Frankly
Afterlife and grace

Thank you for faith
And even my response
As is

C L Couch

Photo by Richard Lee on Unsplash

(x = space)

The Way to God

(or, Mystics Are Confounding)

God guide us

Does God guide us

Seems

We decide

To take the step

To the right

Or to the left

How much is up to us

Why

(and then)

Why

Just about everything

I think

We might want

To go on the path of God

To God

And there might be clues

Insight

Perhaps

Bristly sensation

‘Cause a treasure hunt

If run

And this would be

The richest one

To have

To hoard

Perhaps

(though hoarding really

is no fun)

Better to share

Especially as some of it

Is news

But

Come on

Too much is invisible

A code

Without an artifact

Some books that might be changing

And we argue all the time

So maybe we hope

For approval

On the way and afterward

Which isn’t gold

But is heaven

That in jazz of virtue

Sometimes perplexing

Ain’t all bad

Don’t mean a thing

If it ain’t got that

Je ne se pas

Karl someone said that

(with an “It” as in “It don’t”)

Paas (like eggs)

Haas

Or who is Schickele

A syllable

A couple of Es away

From an adverb

Well

Someone

Something

Help us

Please

Maybe a map

On the pages

Or inside a leaf

Inspired (for the books)

By the leaf

That falls

These days

From trees

And set some kind of standard

They

Often fall on paths

While one path of the paths

We seek

Who knows

Nature might show the way

Overall

Or at least in part

Or parts

Sigh

Where are the arrows

Where is the angel

Pointing

Not much for a duty

But then

One has been assigned

To raise a flaming sword

Outside of Eden

Since the

Lapsarian

Moment

So many mysteries

And what we want

Is God-directed

Without mystic

Understanding

(though Ms Underhill

teaches

we all might

have it to use)

Well

We find our way

We do our best

Maybe we rather

Act like blocks

Sculpted

Undivinely

Because we favor

Hammers

Of agendas

The rest of us

Then

Try

To find a way

To go a way

To find the treasure

Of the Lord

Which is the same

As one who’s somehow

With us

Now

C L Couch

Karl Haas composed and hosted a radio show about Classical music; he was famous for his deeply-intoned greeting, “Hello, everyone.” Peter Schickele also hosted (hosts) a radio show wherein (for the closing) he told us to remember that, “It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that je ne se pas.” (A comic re-rendering of the line (and title) “I don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing” by Duke Ellington.)

Evelyn Underhill was a mystic and writer who composed Practical Mysticism: A Little Book for Normal People.

And may I annotate myself?

Photo by Gabriel Jimenez on Unsplash

Ancient Stump