Words Is Words

November 23rd, 2013

“The syntactical nature of reality, the real secret of magic, is that the world is made of words. And if you know the words that the world is made of, you can make of it whatever you wish.”
– Terence McKenna


Some Kiss We Want

There is some kiss we want with
our whole lives, the touch of
spirit on the body. Seawater
begs the pearl to break its shell.
And the lily, how passionately
it needs some wild darling! At
night, I open the window and ask
the moon to come and press its
face against mine. Breathe into
me. Close the language-door and
open the love window. The moon
won’t use the door, only the window.

-From Soul of Rumi by Coleman Barks


So, do words count?  Or not?  I keep using them; I keep trying to explain things with them.  But maybe that’s just not necessary.

When pondering what it is I enjoy about writing, I realized that my passion is the thought process itself - the imagining and the expansion that comes from creating and (or?) making connections.  But all of that occurs inside of me.  Words are often insufficient to express all that goes on in here.  I have fun trying to put words to this stuff, but it’s secondary to the stuff itself.

This came up because I wondered if I really want to be a writer, i.e. how much do I love writing?  And I realized, I don’t really love it, not deeply anyways, I just use it to assist me (if possible) in the deeper and more mysterious inner explorations.

What does this mean for some kind of career?  How can I show progress when there is nothing material to display?

And then it hits me – the whole idea of this inner dialog is to grow and remember.  Physical expressions of this remembering will then come out naturally through my day-to-day life.  Sounds like an easy way out, but really I can’t say it’s been easy.  Not really.  Our culture is set up to measure success by material means.  How well, then, do I feel valued in my culture?  (Hint: I usually don’t.)

For me, McKenna’s words describing words is like bringing the mystical, magical essence of what-is-not-seen into this world – the world of figures and forms and all things human.  And in this sense words do count.

And then there’s Rumi.  Painting pictures with words.  Using words to say that words really aren’t going to work or help, not if you want to kiss the moon.



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