Forward Back

author’s note:

I often hear, “Follow your intuition!”

To that, I say, “Yes, but the benefits aren’t always so obvious.”


FORWARD BACK

One morning on
a two-lane highway
my car hit a patch of black ice
and suddenly went into a spin

and when the backend
had whipped to a stop
the front end faced the place
I’d just left.
Or perhaps I should say “fled”.
Or maybe the word is: “abandoned”.

But then
in that abrupt moment of stillness
I could no longer ignore
the silent voice.

When what my intuition says
goes against my wishes
I may allow my stubborn will
to steer the wheel

until I go into a spin--
and eventually I’ll go into a spin.

Then I’ll finally surrender
to the secret knowledge
of that silent voice.

Yet even as I obey
I’ll ask “why”--
why I must do what I must?
I’ll ask--though I know
I probably won’t
get a reply.

Years later
I continue to learn why
I needed to return
to the place I had abandoned.

Listening to Silence: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2022, Michael R. Patton

The Bee Machine Responds to the Demands of its Spirit

author's note:

Buzz!  Buzz!
          -- Shakespeare, Taming of the Shrew


THE BEE MACHINE RESPONDS TO THE DEMANDS OF ITS SPIRIT

In deep quiet I find
someone much more peaceful
than the one I usually am

and yet
I don’t linger down too long--
though I sometimes try
I can’t ignore the desire to rise

but maybe erupt is the better word--

to go a thousand different ways
until overladen with all I’ve taken in
like the bee weighted with pollen.

then I’ll feel the need
to cleanse myself again

in a deep solitary pool of quiet:

striving for a supreme silence
I can never completely reach
because in short time I’ll feel compelled
to leap back up once more.

Some would judge this pattern of behavior
as programmed mechanical action.
In other words:
I’m not just like a bee, I am a bee.

To that idea
I say what my silence has told me:
I’m a bee responding to the demands
of an energy beyond my understanding.

you tube channel
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

The Silent Voice

author’s note:

“I learn by going where I have to go.”
             -- Theodore Roethke


THE SILENT VOICE

Sometimes, when I quiet down
to ponder a decision...

I detect a voice

deep within...alien, it seems:

a voice without language
or even sound.
Nonetheless, it talks:

sometimes it tells me yes
sometimes it tells me no--
often giving me an answer
different from the one
I’d wished for.

But I've learned not to argue--
from experience I know
the walls, the falls, the knots
that result when I go against it.

However, to obey--to follow--
often doesn’t bring clear benefits--
often
I can’t see the purpose
for going here instead of there
and doing this instead of that
even years after the act.

To deal with my perplexity
I’ve decided to trust
that that little voice knows
the way to "home"--
knows what needs to unfold
through work and time--knows
where I need to go in order to
eventually get to
where I need
to eventually be.

A bold notion--I’m fearful
as I struggle to believe
and yet, I’m also encouraged:
I find hope in that belief.

dream steps blog
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

Great Silent Mystery

author's note:

“Exploring the silence gives poetic thought birth.”
         -- Pao Hsien (trans. Paul Hansen)


GREAT SILENT MYSTERY

As the story goes...

when our ancestors felt the mystery
of a tree or river
or mountain
or creature
they wanted to talk to it
and learn what it was

and so began to drum.

Whatever sound echoed back
then became the name
of that bounder, beast, or shrub.

But after all the many things
had been named

the people sensed the presence
of one final mystery--

a mystery unseen--

a mystery everywhere all the time.

However
this mystery would not
answer our ancestors
no matter how hard
they banged their drums

so finally they stopped
to listen
to determine the nature
of an essence so strange.

The people then heard
the silent mystery resounding
throughout the stillness
--dominating earth and sky--
all the named things suddenly
lost their names
because everything became part
of that great mystery.

Those folks even began to feel
the unnamed mystery within themselves
and then, anxious to preserve their identity
they returned to drumming
and felt comforted by the noisy distraction.

But whenever
they felt dull in their days
they’d stop

to listen to the silent mystery

until they became overwhelmed
once more.

At this point in my walk
I feel the need to stop
because I sense something missing--
I’m tired of all these things around me--
tired of all the words, the names.

So I’m trying to regress--
I’m trying to shut up long enough
to feel the power
of the great silent mystery

not to escape life, but to know
the life within everything

and know the life--feel the life--
within me, once more.

cutting artichoke stalks – slow TV
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

After I Fell in the Forest

author’s note:

I hope I’ve remembered this quote accurately:

When told that a certain woman was very humble, Dorothy Parker replied, “She has a lot to be humble about.”


AFTER I FELL IN THE FOREST

I never felt the trees

until I fell in the forest

and as I lay face down, trying
to find the strength to stand again
I began to feel
the watchful quiet all around:
aliens communicating without sound.

I’ve listened intently
many times since
and though I still can’t
decipher their silent speech
I sense the trees pity my weakness.

Perhaps I return because
I want their empathy
after being beaten in battle.

Humility is a virtue--is honesty.
But I will only prostrate myself
before beings wise enough
to feel compassion for a fallen fool.

you tube channel
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

Wisdom Creek

WISDOM CREEK

All day long I’m a violin
dreaming a melodramatic melody.

But when I write poetry
I stop playing
and instead
whisper about how
I sat down in solitude
at the wisdom creek.

Truth is:
I often forget to visit
those healing waters
caught up, as I am
in my bars of music.

But strings in the head
eventually trip the feet

then I land down hard
on my back--back
at the wisdom creek.

But as I sit on its bank
in stunned silence
I may hear a deeper me

while watching my inflated violin
float away on the gentle waters.

But I’m cured only for the moment--
that overwrought music returns too soon:

apparently
the hungry boy in me
desires a grander life--
wants to feel heroic.

Maybe someday I’ll convince him
we can accomplish more
by feeling and following
our quiet strength.

you tube channel
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

Master Boulder

author’s note:

Many years ago, I heard we should “commune with nature”.

But some time passed before I learned the wisdom of that advice.


MASTER BOULDER

Though I'm intimidated
by its monolithic presence
I often return to that boulder
at the bottom of the hollow

and then
despite my resistance
obey
its command to listen
to what can not be spoken
only felt:

the profundity of its heavy silence.

In that way, I’m humbled
even as I begin to feel
that same power
echoing up from my dark depths.

I’ve finally discovered
the value of ritual.
I now know how to pray.

you tube channel
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

Our New God

author’s note:

The plywood pictured above wanted to be an artist…

But lacking canvas and brushes, what could it do?  It did what all wise boards do: it used the weather of years to transform itself into a work of art.


OUR NEW GOD

Though we maintain many gods
that serve us in all sorts of ways
I think we need one more

to occasionally help us regain our wits.

The new god we’ll create
won’t guide us on questions
of morality
or the purpose of life.
No

this god will simply say:
you can feel me and know me
by becoming quiet
and listening down within.

Then maybe, feeling curious
we’ll stop and listen
and perhaps for the first time
experience
the mystery of silence.

And when we return
to the world outside
in our new clarity, we’ll begin to sense
the secret silence--
the invisible shadow
within everything
--even the air--

and realize:
the spirit of this god
lives everywhere.

I’m sure some will challenge
the reality of our invented god.
To them, I say:
any mystery so deeply felt
must be real

and to feel what’s really real
is a good way to keep one’s wits
in these witless times.
Time to be with this god.

you tube channel
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

The Flame in My Silence

author’s note:

Up from the bottom
    of an old pond,
    that duckling
has seen something strange.
      -- Joso (Beilenson/Behn trans.)


THE FLAME IN MY SILENCE

I found silence

while casually exploring
a deep water cave
dating back to the stone age.

In that silence, I felt at peace
despite the depth
and in the clarity of my calm
I saw a single flame
faraway in the dark--

not extinguished by the water, but fed.

I did not understand
why I wanted that flame
but I did understand
I could draw that steady fire to me
by remaining silent

but impatient desire
soon ended my silence
and the flame vanished.

At that point, I realized
the fire might be unattainable.
So, of course, I vowed to make it mine.

In that way
I began a quest of years
and though I still can’t stay
in silent calm for long
I seem to bring the fire flame
just a little bit closer
with every descent.

If “seem” seems to be
a soft ambiguous word
consider this sentence:

Whenever I go to that depth
I seem to travel back
to the age of stone
when humans first dove
into the deep waters
and there, in silence
discovered their fire.

floating leaf video
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

Contemplating the Face of Nefertiti

author's note:

I’ve only seen the famous sculpture of Nefertiti in a picture book.

But I don’t think that makes my response any less authentic.

CONTEMPLATING THE FACE OF NEFERTITI

The moment I saw that face
it seemed quite alien to me.

So of course
I wished to peer into its mystery

but could not penetrate.

However, as I tried
I began to sense
my own depths again:

as I felt her silence, I felt my silence
and found a palatial dark elegance
below the junkyard of my thoughts.

Her enigma was the enigma
of this strange life of ours.

Since then
I’ve returned again and again
to that opaque face--
a face that refuses to tell me
its secrets

while boldly proclaiming
a truth deeper
than any I’ve expressed
with these words I’ve stitched together.

33 1/3 New Fables & Myth: ebook
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

Listening to a Meadowlark (or maybe a Starling)

author's note:

Skylark
have you anythng to say to me?
          -- Skylark, by Hoagy Carmichael


Listening to a Meadowlark (or maybe a Starling)

Our ancient ancestors believed
the souls of the departed
inhabited the bodies of birds

but maybe they got it backwards:

long ago on a quiet evening
I detected down in my heart
a restless rustling
of ghostly feathers and wings--

a meadowlark, I hoped
(but I could accept a starling).
In any case,
I then understood

why
I lift my arms to the open sky--
I want that union again.
I want the paradox
of being free while obeying
currents above the mundane.

Aren’t we all birds?

Maybe some will say: not me.
But if you feel those rustlings too
I’ll tell you what I do:

knowing I must wait before
I can return to my lark life
I ease the pain of desire
by quieting myself down
occasionally
so I can hear that bird sing
and then remember:
a bird on the ground
is still a bird.

Though I realize
I can’t recreate such song
I still try
because sometimes then
I meet the sky

at least, for a short time.

© 2021, Michael R. Patton
Dancing to Raven's Song: a novel

Unique Broadcast Frequency

author's note:

Not only is the Universe stranger than we imagine, it is stranger than we can imagine.
        -- Sir Arthur Eddington


UNIQUE BROADCAST FREQUENCY

If I hold very still
when I'm in
that gray place between
waking and sleep...

in the extended silence
my inner ear may detect
a word or phrase
from a voice--
unknown
yet somehow familiar.

Maybe it’s merely the “me”
within me...

but how do you explain those times
when we meet someone
   who seems familiar
   though a still a stranger
and the words just flow
as if we're continuing a conversation--
maybe one begun long ago...?

Based on such experience
I postulate:
at night, as the conscious mind rests
we transmit messages--
often across vast distances.

I realize I'm not being
very scientific
but
I believe it's best to believe
that every individual in our world
owns a unique broadcast frequency--

in this way, at least
we the people have equality.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
listening to silence: poetry ebook

A Heaven Beyond Description

author's note:

Butterfly!  These words
from my brush
are not flowers...
only their shadows.
       -- Soseki (trans. Beilenson/Behn)


A HEAVEN BEYOND DESCRIPTION

I'm told
any heaven worthy of the name
would be beyond description

maybe so, but I doubt
I could remain quiet

because in those rare moments
when light floods my being
I'm overwhelmed by the desire
to express a feeling so heavenly

and though I know I can never find
the perfect words
I'm driven to keep searching--
even long afterwards.

Yes, my efforts
always end in frustration
but

sometimes, amid the silence
that follows in the wake of my words...

I arrive back
at the place I seek

for a moment at least:

that heaven.

© 2016, Michael R. Patton
listening to silence: poems of meditation