HERE AND NOW

Original Cover of Walden

Here

where everything and nothing is real

Now

when there is no truth

 and all paths lead

everywhere and nowhere

Refuse to stand at either pole

or be forever lost in between

One thing is clear

YOU are a fixed star

All things exist in relation to you

orbit in your sphere

are held in balance by you—

Here and Now

Time is relative.
Isn’t everything? It’s all a matter of perspective and perception. Sir Isaac Newton found that time is absolute, “flowing uniformly for all observers," while Albert Einstein found time to be relative, related to gravity and velocity. Hello, Isaac and Albert, but I do not understand Newton’s concept of Absolute Time nor Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. I do know my experience of time is slower when I am enduring things unpleasant or boring, and faster when enjoying the joyful and pleasant things in life. 
I once heard John Lennon describe time as, "that which keeps everything from happening at once.”
Imagine that!
Now in my late 70’s, looking back on my life, I can say that time went absolutely and relatively quickly. Seems to me an average lifespan is not long enough. Long enough for what? Maybe to have experienced time more in the present than in the future or the past?
        "Time is a but a stream I go a-fishing in.” Hello, Henry David Thoreau, whose thoughts are far easier to grasp than are Einstein’s, Newton’s, or John Lennon’s for that matter. Thoreau’s statement in Walden: or a Life in Woods is worth further consideration, as are: "There is more to life than increasing its speed” and "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." 
Thoreau's description of time as a stream to go fishing in suggests that time just "IS," and we can leisurely cast in and out of its eternal waters, pulling out what we will without an awareness of time itself.” What would Thoreau have to say about how we live now? By the calendar and clock for our day, week, month and year, crammed with obligations, responsibilities, urgencies, distractions and pre-occupations. 
How much more so is our speed and desperation, with the nation/world in seeming chaos, and we intent on “getting it all done”—maybe stressed, anxious and often neglectful of more important demands and pleasures of the mind, heart and soul; of each other, and of the gifts of nature?  When we find time, or make it, we are on our devices with apps downloaded for everything imaginable--scrolling social media or news, playing video games or binge-watching TV.
        Yep! We have once again been cast out of The Garden, having taken a huge bite of an Apple of another kind!
        There seems to be no end in sighjt—unless we stop to dip into “the stream," forgetting that time exists at all. Thoreau's thoughts are still relevant today, except that our desperation is not "quiet." It's loud and clear; the pace of life has exponentially escalated! 

        Thoreau saw where we were headed at the speed of light. And yet, how could he have imagined that we would be headed back to the future, going chronologically forward in time, but stuck in unaddressed grievances from the Civil War,  and ongoing racial, gender, and human rights concerns?  
        Don’t get me started!
        We live in the present, yet, our thoughts are most often focused on the past or future. Remaining “in the moment” is difficult, which becomes obvious when we attempt to meditate or clear our minds of brain chatter. Being in the present seems more possible when we are in love (with a person or a project). Then no one or nothing else exists. Being present also seems more possible when we are with children, who compel us (if we are attentive and follow their lead) to live and love each moment, mostly in the imagination of play and the thrill of discovery.
         I became well aware of “not-living-in-the-present” mode when visiting our four-year old grandson, Finn. I told him I would be leaving “tomorrow” and that I would be sad to leave. Without skipping a beat, he said, “It’s not tomorrow now.” The simple truth of Finn’s words penetrated my being. I had rather selfishly imposed the future on him when he lives only in the present. He urged me to be truly with him—not to worry about “tomorrow," rather to experience the joy of our being together in the here and now.
        When my mind is filled with the past and future, or drifts off to realize the absurdity of our existence on our little blue planet, orbiting our sun star, spinning madly through dark, cold, infinite space, I have to stop, put up my imaginary "Gone Fishin" sign and be still—sit under a tree, gaze at the starry sky. As my mind is calmed and silenced, I begin to “just be” to feel the warmth of the sun, the coolness of a breeze, to hear the sound of lake water lapping the shore, or, at summer’s end, to hear the crickets, “so thin a splinter of singing.”* Then I exist in “timelessness,” transcending time in the present where, “time touches eternity.” *
        

        Until I again enter the madly spinning world where, actually, everything IS happening at once!

*Notes
"So thin a splinter of singing," "Splinter,” Carl Sandburg,  Chicago Poems, 1916.

"The Present is the point at which time touches eternity,” C. S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters, C. S. Lewis, 1942.
          

                                                                                Sandra Williams    

SUN DANCE (1990)

On one of our visits to the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota, my husband, Bob, and I were invited to a Sun Dance. The reservation is home to the Sicangu Lakota Oyate (1). We accompanied Edna Little Elk, known to all as Unci (grandmother), Alice Four Bears and Tate (Unci's young granddaughter). The Sun Dance was to be held for several days in Kyle, on the Pine Ridge Reservation, home to the Oglala Lakota Oyate. The Sun Dance would be held in honor of tribal members, Joe Eagle Elk and Stanley Red Bird (2).  Unci and Alice, as Lakota elders, were the honored guests.

    We drove for two hours on some crude, winding hills and dirt roads. It was a cool and windy day with low, heavy clouds in the sky, even though it was summer.

    When we arrived, we were shown to a tipi with a central fire. The tipi was for the women Sun Dancers who would arrive later. Shortly after, Sam Wounded Head, medicine man, came to welcome us. Then, he handed Unci the Sacred Pipe and spoke to the elders in Lakota. Sitting facing west, they held out their arms to him for a ceremonial sacrificial offering of Lakota tribal blood in which a small bit of flesh was taken and wrapped in a cloth to be placed at the Sacred Tree at the center of the Sun Dance circle. We were then all offered the pipe. 

    Unci asked Bob and me to gather women's sage out on prairie, which we did and returned to the tipi to wait for the dancers. When they arrived, they went into a sweat lodge for purification and then returned to prepare for the Sun Dance. Some wrapped shawls around their shoulders; some adorned themselves with sage wreaths around their wrists or ankles. We all then went to the Sun Dance circle and watched the men and women dancers enter, at the east of the circle. Together the dancers all turned toward each of the four directions. Then the drums and singing began, seeming to me like the heartbeat of the community, as all danced around the Sacred Tree, holding up their hands to it at the mention of Wakan Tanka, the Creator of all that is. It was very moving--this ritual of prayer and celebration--its reverence and meaning.

    At the end of this day's Sun Dance, Unci again received the Sacred Pipe, lit it and passed it around to all who had watched and prayed for the dancers. I will never forget the gift of that day--the honor it was to be there and to have meet many Lakota people on both Rosebud and Pine Ridge Reservations during our visit.

The Badlands  - Pine Ridge

     I could not stop thinking then and, from time to time, even now how Native Americans all over the country had once lived in harmony with nature and had so many ways in there culture to express it, as we had witnessed at that Sun Dance. When the Europeans came, that way of life was doomed, as there was a violation and fragmenting of their lives with the decimation their means of survival--the buffalo; the taking of children to be sent far away to schools to "civilize" them. There was a censoring or abolishment of everything held sacred, including the Lakota language (3). Though many treaties were made, most were to gain more land and to marginaize Native Americans to reservations and many signed treaties were broken to accomplish the goal of "Manifest Destiny," claiming all the land from the east to the west coasts.
    During our visits to South Dakota, we met both White and Native people involved in initiatives to revive and preserve the language and culture of the Lakota people, as is the case across the country for other tribes. We met Ron Goodman (2), a poet and teacher from Virginia, who worked with others in this effort, then teaching at Sinte Gleska, a public tribal land-grant university in the town of Mission on Rosebud. Goodman authored, with Stanley Red Bird, Lakota Star Knowledge, which describes how the heavens were looked to as a source and guide for seasonal, practical and cultural aspects of life for the Lakota.
     Sadly, we also saw the lasting effects on many Lakota--tormented faces in the towns, rife with illness, addiction, crime and poverty. It was heartbreaking! Fortunately, history has left us documents, photos and the words of Native Americans about their way of life--their beliefs and wisdom from the period during and after contact with the Europeans. The faces in these photos seem noble and strong, as their culture once was--aware of their ancestors and the spiritual nature of life with connection to all of creation, represented in daily rituals, and in ceremonies such as the Sun Dance.
    The Lakota have a saying: Mitakuye Oyasin (All My Relatives), or "relations," meaning everything and everyone in creation.

     Chief Seattle, of the Squamish tribe (whose traditional land was in British Columbia), gave a speech before the Medicine Creek Treaty was to be signed 1854. By then, Native American lives and ways had already changed,  and they knew what was still to come.
    His entire speech at: https://suquamish.nsn.us/home/about-us/chief-seattle-speech

Here is an excerpt:
    "....There was a time when our people covered the land as the waves of a wind-ruffled sea cover its shell-paved floor, but that time long since passed away with the greatness of tribes that are now but a mournful memory.... And when the last Red Man shall have perished, and the memory of my tribe shall have become a myth among the White Men, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe, and when your children’s children think themselves alone in the field, the store, the shop, upon the highway, or in the silence of the pathless woods, they will not be alone. In all the earth there is no place dedicated to solitude. At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled them and still love this beautiful land. The White Man will never be alone...."
    Let him be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead are not powerless. Dead, did I say? There is no death, only a change of worlds...."





Chief Seattle of the Squamish people



* NOTES:
1. The Lakota have seven bands or sub-tribes. The Sicungu of Rosebud and the Oglala of Pine Ridge (where Wounded Knee took place) are two of them. "Oyate" means "people."

2. Stanley Red Bird, was a founder of Sinte Gleska University, and main source for Ron Goodman's book Star Knowledge (availalbe on Amazon). See Sandra's blog on Ron Goodman at: https://cosmicseanotes.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-friend-poet-ron-goodman.html

3. It is worthwhile to note the documented current attempts to erase Native American history and events that took place as if they never happened.  These historic happenings are sometimes interpreted as blame and accusation of White people, which may make them "uncomfortable," or in an effort to imply that there are no misdeeds in American history. However, the documented history not only needs to stand, for that is what  the "history" is, but also as reminders of what can happen when there is intent to wield and hold power over others by any means. We, who live in this age, are not responsible for what happened back then, but, as part of humanity, for truth's sake, we must accept what occurred as reminders that history can and does repeat itself IF we are not aware, vigilant and active in being aware and attempting to ensure it does not.

On The Death My Uncle

A figure short and dark

you melted hearts with your smile.

 

Childlike 

You said goodbye to your parents. 

Now, your children 

in the "solemnest of industries”

grieve and disbelieve

struggling to accept 

your mysterious disappearance.

 

Within them they will carry you

while she broods

trying to reconcile

years of frying peppers 

watching pigeons

with a promise of loneliness.

                                

The birds oblivious

no tears to disturb their iridescent coats

roost, take fight, return to their sanctuary

to peck in blessed ignorance about the yard—

 

 

Where once in crimson and lime

the roses of our youth grew the summer long

worm and thorn hidden from our eye.

 

And frost on the way

                                                                                1980

ROME

In Rome
I saw no Coliseum or cats
No hand of God drawn by the Maestro
In the Sistine Chapel.

I saw only the cracked ceiling of the stanza,
Whereupon I traced out my destiny
With fear and regret.

The space was all filled by morning--
And you—restless
Over your vino or cappuccino
Wondering where to draw a line
to or from me.

You’ve drawn a circle instead
me on the outside
Lifetimes ago

I drew myself there too
On the ceiling before I left Rome
Without seeing the Coliseum or the Sistine Chapel.

What is at the top of the Spanish Steps? 

                                                                                (Rome 1972)            

                     And again

               into a dark passage

               all night

               the moon bright

               moves across the sky

               toward morning

               may this dark passage

               like a lunar pilgrimage

               lead us into light,