everyday magic

[Image: “Guitarball (Holiday Linux Joke),” by John E. Simpson; #814 (December 19, 2019) in my #everydaybandw series. (Shared here under a Creative Commons License; for more information, see this page at RAMH.)]

(A very quickly assembled post this week; holiday-travel day for me!)

From whiskey river:

The Word
Down near the bottom
of the crossed-out list
of things you have to do today,
between “green thread”
and “broccoli” you find
that you have penciled “sunlight.”
Resting on the page, the word
is beautiful, it touches you
as if you had a friend
and sunlight were a present
he had sent you from some place distant
as this morning—to cheer you up,
and to remind you that,
among your duties, pleasure
is a thing,
that also needs accomplishing.
Do you remember?
that time and light are kinds
of love, and love
is no less practical
than a coffee grinder
or a safe spare tire?
Tomorrow you may be utterly
without a clue,
but today you get a telegram
from the heart in exile,
proclaiming that the kingdom
still exists,
the king and queen alive,
still speaking to their children,
—to any one among them
who can find the time
to sit out in the sun and listen.

(Tony Hoagland [source])

…and:

Go back to knowing that it is simple. The fun is in the busy-ness as long as it’s fun for you. And when you see that it’s just more of the same stories, all about “me,” drop it. You can observe what goes on benignly, but keep going. From the position of observer, take that last step. Who’s the one observing ? Go there. Who is that ultimate, absolute observer, where “seeing itself” arises? Let attention rest there. Let it be ok that nothing has happened. Let the show be over, let the movie, the story of “I” as an individual person, be over. And see what happens. Truth will reveal itself, absolute clarity of how this matrix works, will show itself to be no more than a matrix. And somehow, a capacity to enjoy what ever is unfolding is always there. You don’t have to be perfect, you don’t have to have good health, you don’t have to do it before your body dies, it’s got nothing to do with anything: it’s right now, place your attention behind any stories, any concepts. From there, freedom arises, beauty arises, love arises. But don’t take my word for it, do it. And prove me wrong, I’d be delighted. I’ll take on that challenge any day. Do it and find out. So blessings on all of us, who are pretending to be human.

(Jac O’Keeffe [source])

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[Image: “The Paper Burns, But the Words Fly Free,” by user “Kylie_Jaxxon” on Flickr. (Used here under a Creative Commons license; thank you!) There’s not much context provided for this Second Life work, except this: “Quote by Akiba Ben Joseph” — the quote in question presumably being the image’s title. In any case, the title was perfect for my purposes this week! (For what it’s worth, though, the book depicted appears to be The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett.]

From whiskey river:

Inside

No one to hear but
Records for the broken player.
No reason for order but order
persists, from breakfast to bath
to work, rain falling at one speed,
the windows darkening and blurring,
accident beating against belief.
A loud engine, which is one way to say
one thing. The floors swept daily,
though it takes at least one hour for the first,
one for the last. In the pages of a book,
quick studies of gesture,
tents of hands.

(Saskia Hamilton [source])

…and:

Imagine a world where speaking or writing words can literally or directly make things happen, where getting one of those words wrong can wreak unbelievable havoc, but where with the right spell you can summon immensely powerful agencies to work your will. Imagine further that this world is administered: there is an extensive division of labour, among the magicians themselves and between the magicians and those who coordinate their activity. It’s bureaucratic, and also (therefore) chaotic, and it’s full of people at desks muttering curses and writing invocations, all beavering away at a small part of the big picture. The coordinators, because they don’t understand what’s going on, are easy prey for smooth-talking preachers of bizarre cults that demand arbitrary sacrifices and vanish with large amounts of money.”

(Ken MacLeod [source])

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Within the Darkness, the Close and the Holy

Incantations