A Drop of God

a drop in the ocean or the ocean in a drop?

Here is the same video on YT:

Tonika Todorova of Visceral Adventures has animated my poem, Drops of God. Set against cascading, surreal artwork, this mystical poem speaks of Oneness and uniqueness, eternity and immortality in the I of the beholder. The music is Dreaming Of You by Natalia Kolesnikova, who graciously allows her music to be used. The poem follows the text.

I would say that I’m over the moon but clearly, I’m under the water! Nothing makes me as happy as my daughters, my dancers, and my stacker collabs. How did I get so lucky to be in this fine company? It’s truly a dream come true to be read by so many fine minds and to have the intertwingling of creativity that sparks beauty I never dared to imagine.

Tonika has also just done a collaboration with Mary McLaughlin, in response to Kathleen Devanney’s call for alternate State of the Union addresses. Mine was posted as State of DisUnion 2030. Tonika’s own SOTU is here:

SOTU: So Over This Ugly

And this is Mary and Tonika’s, which is so well written, so well acted and so astonishingly embellished with video. I suggest watching and cross-posting and getting out in as many venues as possible. As Tonika said of Mary, “Under the direction of Sara Valentine, her snark lingered perfectly in the air like the cigarette smoke of a 1920’s speakeasy - thick and yet, mysteriously alluring.”:

The Declaration of Dependence, 2.0: The Video!

Tonika is also reading my book, How to Dismantle an Empire, and has gotten to the fun juicy part, in her words. She suggested that, when she’s finished, we should record a Zoom Q & A with whoever else is reading my book and is interested. Another dream come true! And have I mentioned that she’s raising three sons, supporting her family, just had a major fundraiser, is recuperating from surgery, and showing us all how to do the Cancer Can Can with style and grace?

With no further add-do:

Drops of God

The ocean’s embrace holds each creature,
the caress of current like a mother’s hand,
blood singing response. A wave on sand
plays solo, slips back to sea churn.

Dancing on the surface rises the host
of water molecules. Mist turns to cloud,
the pendulous clump laughs out loud,
a thousand souls fall to embryos.

This drop of God is a self. Who am I?  
The shape of rain, a thin skin of tension 
holding my own unique dimension
in time and place: an idea of the sky.

The atman in me greets the atman in you,
say the Hindus. The drop of God in me
greets your drop of God—so we
relate: chipped vessels, infinite truth.

Music is God’s native language.
The ocean hums its harmonic roar
through the soul’s embouchure.
Music is God’s native language.

Two souls meet, trembling and shy,
flames dance under water.
The ocean in me greets the daughter
of sea: so shall the waves reply.

The skin resists evaporation,
the heart yearns to break free.
cracking the shell of life, death’s beak
sets loose the spirit’s congregation.

Eternity is in the I of the beholder.
Which are you? The drop or the ocean?
Fear would hold the self frozen
in time, turning death a cold shoulder.

But immortality rushes beneath,
singing benediction to the seed,
whispering welcome to grass and weed
alike, in equal part bequeathed.

---

Other poem posts:

In this episode, I read my poem called Becoming Yeast and talk about prayer and forgiveness. I ask whether two people asking the same question, with more concern for getting the right answer than being right, is a special form of prayer.

For Easter, I read a poem I wrote called Mollusks & Diamonds and explain why WE are rising, re-membering who we are and re-cognizing our Self in each other. We are the Christ and we're re-surrecting because joy is our birthright, without opposite, and life has no death. Resurrection is inclusive and eternally present or not at all.

Happy Birthday! I look at the Christ as a movement, not a person, that's coming into being after 2000 years of dormancy. I read "How Will the World End?" from the teacher's manual of A Course in Miracle. And I end with a poem I wrote called The Holy Dark.

A short sweet summer poem.