Ask yourself a question – What is meaning?

leafless tree on grass field
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

Now-a-days we are taught that only the physical level exists. If someone mentions heaven or angels or (God forbid!) God – Himself or Herself, they are met with a condescending smile and a bit of a smirk (poor thing, they obviously have no education at all – imagine believing in all those silly things!)

There are still some Christians and some other believers of one sort and another (and some of those too are fairly toxic in their condescension and definitely to be avoided).

There are even a few people who talk about “the Universe” – as something vague and amorphous, rather like God – but one wouldn’t want to get caught actually talking to this Universe – after all that would be childish.

This transformation in society – which is particularly overwhelming in western society – has become really much more apparent within the last twenty years or so. It was there before – especially among those “well-educated” – even among those from other parts of the world – especially those who traveled to the west – to Europe or the U.S. — to become the beneficiaries of “Western Education.”

This atheism goes along with the rise of science and modern technology.  Instead of worshipping the moon – as our very distant ancestors used to do, we build great spaceships that travel to the moon. This is considered a tremendous advance – astounding progress.

Instead of worshipping trees, mountains, hills, rivers – as our distant ancestors used to do – we “manage the wilderness” trying (some of us) ever so painfully to preserve something of the natural world, even as we, as a society, poison the earth with carbon dioxide and all manner of pollution.  We carefully measure our carbon dioxide footprint and calculate our honorable intentions.  Meanwhile governments, armies, and big tech industries pollute to their heart’s content – smiling and proclaiming to all who would listen, their very, very sincere efforts to  protect the earth and all its “resources.”

This state of affairs goes hand in hand with this being the age of science and technology.

Scientists and other very, very wise people discuss at length the meaning of “consciousness.”  Psychiatrists diagnose and prescribe drugs for all manner of human behavior. A pill will change your child’s behavior – and it does – never mind the long-term cost.

But look at how very far advanced we are. Now we are civilized. We torture people quietly, only beyond closed doors. We are so very humane. We destroy cities, quietly – beyond the headlines. Our warfare isn’t brutal at all – not like those long-ago atrocious times of our ancestors. Now we kill and maim people quietly – we pay for other people to do our torture for us. We complain that they are too cruel and inhumane – as we finance their armies.

But back to the point. We now, as a society, see only the physical level of existence – nothing more. We see no heaven, no hell, no spirits, no angels, no God, no Divine Presence, no Eternity, no karma, no dharma, no purpose – no spiritual level or awareness of other levels beyond the purely physical.

Now ask yourself a question:  Have you ever seen a miracle? – maybe an illness, declared irreversible by a doctor—simply disappear with no apparent explanation? Have you ever heard the phone ring and known who was calling you? Have you ever had a premonition of something about to happen? Have you ever felt a presence in the room with you – maybe your grandmother who passed away?  Have you ever been visited in a dream by a beloved pet who died and felt that you were really and truly visited and blessed by their presence? Have you ever been saved, inexplicably, from a very dangerous situation – or had a prayer answered?

Have you ever felt an invisible presence guiding you, protecting you, inspiring you?

Science, of course, would tell us, that all those things are simply our imagination – nothing more.

What about the beauty of nature?  Have you ever looked at a sunset and found it so overpoweringly beautiful that it took your breath away? Was that just a meaningless coincidence – a trick of light and shadow – and colors appearing by chance – devoid of any meaning?

What about the meaning of meaning? Does your life have a meaning? Do events have a meaning? Does the beauty of a flower have a meaning? Or the distant hills in the sunrise? Or the life of a butterfly? Or the kind words of a friend?

What does meaning mean? Some of us struggle dutifully, in obedience to some apparently required unwritten law to try to efface all meaning altogether.  After all, we must adhere conscientiously to the principle that only the physical reality exists. And if only the physical exists, then what can meaning mean? We are left trying to accept the principle of a meaningless universe – improbable though it seems.

And if there is actually a meaning, then what? Then there is more than purely physical reality. That is just simply logical, since a meaning is just not a physical thing. It just isn’t – you can’t stretch or twist or turn it into a physical thing – it just isn’t.

Meaning is meaning – and whatever the meaning may be – it transcends the physical.  It is on another level, and that means – uncomfortable as it may be – that there is more than just the physical level. There is more than the material plane.

This opens the door to the universes of ancient knowledge taught and perceived by our distant ancestors – by ancient peoples – even shamans and wise people – healers and seers – those ancient ones who taught wisdom that we have long forgotten.

It opens the door to magic, to miracles, to wisdom, love, perception – to truth, to knowledge – to worlds upon worlds of beauty, of the divine, of the mysterious and the magnificent – the doors of perception – to the infinite perception of beauty – to art, to poetry, to mystical realities and awareness – to levels and universes we can scarcely imagine.

We are called from quite near and from quite far beyond. We can listen and respond if we wish.

© Copyright, Sharon St Joan 2023

The dance of Shiva

black and yellow bird perched on tree branch
Photo by Ray Bilcliff on Pexels.com

Within the snow

See

The raven-winged worlds of wonder

Become the beginnings and the endings,

The souls who are the one

Soul –

The re-awakening beginning

And the ultimate ending, broken asunder.

The soul of the snow goes

Drifting by on the many rivulets,

You

Who

Are no one and everyone,

The soft-spoken spirit

Of the call of the night heron,

Floating over the waters

Of the black lake

Of eternity,

Where the boatman

Dips his pole

Toward the far shoal,

Awake

Now, with all the children of the stars,

Sons and daughters

Of heaven,

Who are dancing –

Dancing

The dance of Shiva,

The one Soul.

© Copyright, Sharon St Joan, 2023

Shani

green trees near snow covered mountain
Photo by Anon on Pexels.com

Returning

To the land of drifting snow –

So

Many angels.

Black ravens circle

Above

The treetop,

Glinting green.

Dawn

Stars discern

A faint pathway

To river banks unseen.

Only divinity remains,

Only angels and singing bells,

In the gentle rains

Of spring.

Rocks washed, in the rolling

Dance

Of the unstoppable swells

Of the sea;

Tree shadows fade against the sky.

There is no one,

No one at all.

The tangles of time are all undone.

Only the lingering glance

Of eons sliding by,

Only the halo

Of the sacred night,

Only the peace of Eternity,

Only the startling snow,

Only the song of the swan

Has slipped away

Into the gray

Clouds of the pillars of the night,

Where the moon might

Sing,

The white-crowned sparrow

Hop,

And the magpie don

Her white robes, worn

In celebration

When the cosmic journey leads on and on

Through calming mists

Over miles of snow forests.

The one who waited to kill

The soul

No longer glimmers,

But is gone,

Into the night-waves of shadow.

Faded,

The bitter song – of illusion – was never sung –

The notes were never played,

But fell instead into the yawning gap of the abyss,

So the autumn leaves never cascaded

On to the burned embers of time, unborn

With the final hiss

Of the raindrop.

Now, at last, only

The brave, undaunted raven rises

Whose eyes

Glisten wise

In the snow-radiant dark.

Only the real one,

Who soars aloft, ever higher

Over the juniper tree.

Shani,

The first one,

The only one,

The God of myth

Who sparkles fire

As the bright

Truth

Of being,

Riding on the swift ark

Of the moon-crowned night.

© Copyright Sharon St Joan, 2023

Horus – Great God of the Sky — Iseum Sanctuary

Horus is one of the most Ancient Egyptian Gods, worshiped from the Pre-dynastic period (c. 6000-3150 BCE) until the last of the Ancient Egyptian dynasties (600 BCE). Horus was the “Great God, Lord of the Sky,” as well as god of war and hunting. He was usually depicted as a falcon-headed man or a falcon. […]

Horus – Great God of the Sky — Iseum Sanctuary

In Honor of Weneg, Mediator of the Gods and Pillar of the Sky — Iseum Sanctuary

Weneg, also known as Uneg, was an Ancient Egyptian God first referenced during the Old Kingdom period (c. 2600 BCE). He was revered as a god of fertility, agriculture, and the renewal of life. The name Weneg translates to “the one who endures” or “the one who is firm,” and he was believed to hold […]

In Honor of Weneg, Mediator of the Gods and Pillar of the Sky — Iseum Sanctuary

Mists of stone

Mists of stone

Clear in the arc

Of light,

Artic light, enduring

Mystery

Through the dark,

Years of dark.

Buried, the lost bones

Of a bleak history,

Along with the ghostly groans

Of the dragon.

Dark.

A snowflake

Falls.

The wind calls,

Yet

The stones live on

And remember

The heart

Of the earth,

The cart-

Wheel tracks that run their way

Into the sea,

Of Malta, gray.

The walking before dawn

In the majestic winter

When the ice floe

Shimmered under

The dancing fairies of the moon,

To find the sacred stones

Of the path that went along, some time ago.

Now lost in the delirium

Of the modern world,

Gone

Awry from the start,

Let it leave soon,

Quickly,

To betray

The song of the mountain roses

That the stones may rise to an echoing drum,

Stones of mist.

Quiet,

The whispering fir trees of the forest,

The breath of God in the air, curled

In the smoke of the lost fires.

The eon closes.

From the eternity of being

There arises

The swan who sails softly

In long, snow-

Winged flight,

Over the hills

In the wild mists of dawn

Spires,

Free at last in the lost rain that spills

Through the mist

Of the singing mountains.

Dragons awake

To drifting skies.

*****

© Copyright Sharon St Joan, 2022, text and photo

The Living Earth – Ancient Perspectives

As part of the Amazing Earthfest, taking place all this week, Forest Voices of India will present The Living Earth: Ancient Perspectives.

Here is the link to read about, and register for, the one hour long Zoom presentation this Friday, May 13th 6 pm, U.S. Mountain time.

https://amazingearthfest.org/events/the-living-earth-ancient-perspectives

Fifty minutes of this presentation is a movie which features Dr. Nanditha Krishna, well-known authority on the culture of India and the world of nature. Also featured are Josh Nunez telling Native American stories, Musuni Letura from Kenya, and Chris Gorzalski with the Great Old Broads for Wilderness. The speakers offer views of the earth as a living being — with humans belonging to nature, rather than dominating nature. There are beautiful musical interludes by Bobbi Cheney, along with scenes of nature.

Following the movie, there will be a short time for live questions and discussion.

Registration is free. To register, click on the link above!

Red cliffs

grand canyon during golden hour
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Within the red cliffs

Walk the feet of Shiva

Through the eternities of endless eons

In the sacred smoke of the kiva

Snow-

Flakes falling

Within the perceptive

Eyes

Of the pygmy owl,

Reflecting skies

Where green dragons

Sail over the seas and all the caves

Long gone,

Waves

Washing up along the coast

Where still,

Knives

Gleam

Of thieves

Hiding in the dark,

Ninja lives,

Deceptive

Whiffs –

A spark

Of whispered words,

Clever,

Sly eyes smile.

There is the space

Where

The rainbows

Rest

A while

Before the startling storms that howl

Before the white-throated swift’s nest

High up in the rock

Gathers up the errant wings – lost almost.

All the hills become

Encircled in weaves

Of patterns within the mist

Of gray stone.

Within the rain ahead

Flocks

Of night

Rain, loud,

Bold,

That never cease,

Unerring

In their treks of flight,

Within the black armies of the castled kingdoms,

War drums

Of the cloud.

All is here now,

The bow

Of the lone,

Ghost

Ship cuts across the furrow,

And all falls

Suddenly quiet.

Torrents cease.

Winds let go.

All returns

To within the peace

Of cliffs deep red

As the autumn

Moon

In the forgotten dimensions

Of forever. Soon

Will the wild paws

Of the forest

Lions,

Tiptoe

Again, with grace

In the clear singing of the dawn

With the moon-

Enchanting meadows

Gone,

Now turned to gold,

Held in the entrancing feathers of the sun,

While rags of clouds stream

Onward to the dance.

September 10, 2021

© Sharon St Joan, 2021

Reflection

green leafed tree
Photo by veeterzy on Pexels.com

“Perhaps the relevant stage is not the real world at all – but rather the world of fantasy, of art, of stories, of myth – myth is the best way to express it – this is the world of the spirit – of magical life.

“The “real” world, meaning the physical world – is not real at all – it is going, going, gone – on the way out – it is dead – a stream of images — and only the ethereal world of meanings and relevance is actually real or relevant. It continues.”

As the wise William Shakespeare wrote, in MacBeth:

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

  • Thoughts, true or not true, from Jack

© 2021

Before the moon will write

black bird on brown grass
Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com

Gone

Now, the cloud-wandering

Of the winter night,

Before the moon

Will write

Her comments

Across the pale

Rock

Invoking

Those untraveled moments

Yet to be, when soon

The silver, ambling feet

Of quail

Will flock

To greet

The sky-winged

Innocence of dawn.

Written around 1990

© Sharon St Joan, 2021