Tag Archives: not knowing

On the night of the full super moon, a robin sang sweetly in my garden for the hour until the moon peaked. It began in darkness and then, the cloud mass had begun to break-up and to separate, dissolved into wisps. The newly appeared and dazzling moon looked like it was racing through a cotton-wool landscape or materialising and dematerialising in the centre of a flower that just kept emerging, throwing new petals out of its own void. It was like watching the universe take shape; something birthed out of nothing and, all the time, this sweet monologue of bird song, the seventh dimensional sound that was once the “word” that birthed it all. What made this song so powerful, so compelling, so “stop right there” in my tracks in order to hear every note of it, for all the night was bitterly cold? It was like I was receiving a download, a melodious morse code, that some aspect of myself was busily deciphering. What was so compelling was that its pure beauty came out of darkness; was this incongruous melody that cut through the blankness as though asserting “I choose to make from all this dark potential THIS”…. Continue reading →