Song 30

It’s an old time feeling

I
Just
Have
To
Follow
The
Wind

It kinda leaves me reeling

I
Just
Have
To
Let
You
In

To
Take
The
Risk
Of
Loving

Where the definites blow so thin

To
Stand
Above
My
Fearing

&
Let
The
Wheel
Go
Spin

It’s an old, old feeling

This
Yoga
Of
Risk
&
Gain

For the price of love is trusting

Again

&
Over

Again

12/08/12

I have been reflecting on vulnerability. How the ability to be vulnerable is so important in relationships… also in creativity … especially if one is to let go the conditioned parts of oneself & open to the ‘Unconditioned’ … to the Self… to follow the wind of Spirit… to walk paths one has never walked before.

I wrote this after a dream in which: ‘I was walking past a building in which a spiritual service of some kind was being held. I felt tugged, prodded, pushed by a firm invisible wind to join the service. I knew it was the Spirit. I went in. It was Christmas Day… the service was based on North American Indian rituals & songs. I enjoyed it & realised how much I liked ‘alternative’ rituals & paths. I felt free & knew I could do what I wanted with my life. At one point in the dream I saw an old film of my mother… she was practicing elocution… saying a poem in the elocution style she taught me as a boy. She was very focused on doing it right… in that somewhat exaggerated/artificial style… elocution tended to be… especially elocution practice. I then heard the words of a song, sung to the tune of a Guy Clark song: ‘That old time feeling’. The words in the dream were: ‘It’s that crazy old time feeling… I just had to do it that way.’ (12/8/12) As a boy I had no choice: ‘I had to do it that way’… to practice elocution in front of my mother over & over… striving to ‘get it right’: to do it her way. Those days are over. I can now take the risk of being myself. I can follow whatever paths call my name. I can sing my own songs. This poem is one of them. A song of love: where vulnerability… & ‘not having to get it right’ are the soup of the day. I tried hard to fit ‘the yoga of vulnerability’ in there somewhere… but the poem wouldn’t have a bar of it.

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