Blah

There is, it is said, a state of being and a state of doing,
as we oscillate between these two states occasionally
we get blindsided with a creative insight
ding and the lights go on - we see with new eyes
if we chose to take the new path before us
we are shifted into a new rhythm of being and doing.

This is one way of perceiving the beats and patterns
found in the music of our lives. Some of us prefer
a more steady balanced orderly being and doing dance
that breeds a certain familiarity, and there are those of us
who like the shift in gears, the change of pace that improvisation
brings with the frequent visit of the creative spark.

And then there are those other times of liminality,
the in between times, when it feels little like
doing or being or even creativity. This is
the blah state. The fog descends amongst us and sounds like
blah blah blah can be heard coming from me and you.

Today is a blah day. Inertia ... procrastination ...
and more blah de blahness ... the grinding stuckness
of never never never ending bleak outlooks
sounding like the screeching of metal on metal as brakes are
applied sapping the energy out, slowing the motion down
bringing everything round and about to an unearthly STOP!

A Shuddering, stuttering and blundering ARREST!
It is in this disquieting blackness that imagination greys
what lies dormant in the heart is the spirit of singing rainbows
multicoloured miracles that split the sky in two
between rain and shine appearing fleetingly before the eye
rainbows lifting soul and psyche up heavenward to smile again.

All there is in the blahland is hope, faith and belief
if your lucky a vague memory of what's gone before
and what can come again and again when we turn within and
search the unseen reaches of the infinite, moving through
places where magic is seeded this is our memoried landscape
of ancestral inheritance and potentiality that invisibly encircles us.

Oh singing rainbow of indescribable delectable beauty
the very jewel of great infamous stores of treasure
searched for over time in long lost stories left high and dry
on the floors of the caves of our most precious lives
to be rediscovered once again when we raise
the courage and desire to grasp and shout our own unique truth.

Stepping forth into that power only true love knows
we stand on land that heals the deepest of wounds
and covers us in a green mossy blanket of protection
so as to be able to shine out our gifts as we place
them back in service of all life human and more than human
in the greatest celebration we will ever know.