December 27, 2005

Tears of a Madman

Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high,
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true.

Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far
Behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly.
Birds fly over the rainbow.
Why then, oh why can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?


Beyond the rainbow... I don't know how to write this. Tears are falling, falling, falling – a lifetimes of tears. I am alone and it is raining in my eyes, and there is such a beautiful rainbow, skies of blue, clouds so white. Flowers bloom in this heartache and I am overwhelmed with gratitude, and the tears fall, the rain falls. It is all water; I am water, the vast ocean that stretches beyond any shore, out to eternity, in to infinity. And the thing of it, I sit here in all my humanity, just an ordinary person, a father, a son, a man, a friend, with all my humanity, faults and frailties, just a soap bubble. And as a person, a self, I know I can never make it, never cross the river, and trying, trying so hard, reaching, yearning, all my effort and struggle, in this journey to find my way home, to a place where trouble melts like lemon drops, where I melt like ice in the morning sun, where I wake up and find the clouds far behind me.

Human tears fall, all of us striving to find our way over the rainbow. My one heart, our heart, I don't know how to say it, our non-separate heart is always breaking, wishing on a star, tiny bluebird heart breaking in this sea of longing, this wave moving toward awakening, reaching as an infant reaches his little arm toward a light; daring to dream. I wanted to make it to that light, to merge and see. If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why, oh why can't I? I never have and never will. There are tears to fall in this life, this living and growing; rain and more rain until the fledgling, becoming a bluebird and falls back down, down to the beloved earth, and lying there still, melts in the rain, in God's tears, melts into the ground, self dispersing into space, to float in subterranean rivers to an unknown sea with no shores, no boundaries, where the stars turn.

I stood on the shore, longing to cross over, not ever knowing what I was doing, just following a fragrance, a bluebird, a white cloud, a rainbow, a breaking heart, wishing upon a star, a star within to guide me home; returning, alone, suffering, with all my humanity, and a long bag of grief trailing behind me. Wounded, I knew I could not retreat back into the deeper recesses of my cocoon, safe, secure, where I would use up a lifetime to suffocate, to squander the gift of human life. Again and again I threw the covers off and leapt into blue skies, into the icy firmament, the indifferent stream, hoping, wanting to find my way, the Way over the rainbow, to the other shore. Building rafts, booking passage on other's rafts, with anyone who seemed to know how to fly. I glimpsed a pure land over the rainbow, caught the fragrance of the wonderful flowers blooming there, I could taste them, there beyond the rainbow. Looking up, above the chimney tops... Do you know? Tell me how, take me with you, take me over, where dreams really do come true.

Once in a lullaby I heard the music of Being, of Unity, way up high. Life went on as it does. I grew a self, adopted an identity, the music faded, and I, like everyone, suffered. Who am I? Yet I never completely forgot the music, the fragrance; never forgot my home, my original nature, that pure and perfect emptiness containing all things, so full. I searched for this pure land, pure and perfect. Now I see that you can never get to the holy land; never really cross over to the other shore, and complete the journey from searching self to Unity. As a friend said, "It is beyond your will and intention, but the universe will do it for you..." This is the miracle, the miracle we share. Leaping again and again into the stream, trusting and leaping, and moving to the sound of bliss, toward the fragrance of bliss. We see the other shore, leap and are carried away again and again, yet in this sincere approaching, approaching the gate, suddenly the barrier is crossed. The universe does it for us, we are pulled through the gate, pulled into the stream of Tao without the use of our hands. It is a death of sorts producing a river of tears, a flood, and we are carried away on this flood, carried away, over the rainbow on the wings of bluebirds. We look at our body and see blue wings and white clouds, and rainbows and dreams that have come true.

Here again are the tears, light meeting moisture without which no rainbow could exist. Tears of parting, tears of letting go, finally releasing into dark night and blue sky, tears of bliss. Such exquisite sadness: you never really make it, never able to find your way home again, never achieve salvation. Yet suddenly it is here. When you allow your self to dissolve into nothingness, into the heart of a bluebird, suddenly you are over the rainbow. Spread your wings of love, for love is what you soar upon, nothing else but the warm current of love. It is beyond all your effort and striving. You can not do it, yet opening, trusting, letting go, existence does it for you. Then the tears of gratitude pour like rain, showering upon and blessing the earth. And here, on earth, look! Oh, please look! Someone with a breaking heart is looking up, high above the chimney tops, wishing upon a star, searching, seeking. Please look; he is looking for you, looking for the violet, the deep hues of your face. If ever there was a human need, this is the deepest, in these searching, suffering eyes full of tears. Rainbow, mirror of Being, he needs you. Will you meet his gaze? Will you, looking back, sing to him a sweet refrain of love, "Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high, there's a dream that you dreamed of once in a lullaby..." Sweet rainbow, brilliant star, please look back. His eyes look for you, innocently, and you can see his broken heart is pure. When your eyes meet, he will dare to wake up, and find the courage to fly beyond the rainbow. A rainbow with human eyes is who you are; those bluebirds are you, they fly in your heart, your Being. When you are willing to drop clinging and become a tiny bluebird, a rainbow, a blue sky - blissful celebration will blossom everywhere. With no one to celebrate, flowers of bliss will be blooming everywhere; the ecstasy of existence will be uncontainable, both way up high and here in this breaking heart. And this is where you'll find me.

Celebration is what we eternally abide in. Celebration of Being is going on all around us. This is the open secret. It is Presence, wide open, free, and unhindered, in plain view. If it takes a madman to see, then let yourself go mad, for there is only one thing happening in existence, celebration of Being. Look back sweet rainbow, be the celebration that is your true nature, let your cocoon fall away and come fly over the rainbow. It is a wonderful existence. How could we ask for more? Will you continue to cling to the husk of self, when it's possible, right now, to emerge from chrysalis into blue skies? While our human life contains exquisite pain, it does not follow that you need to suffer. Pain has beauty in it, deep down. Agony has ecstasy in it. They are a part of living, but suffering is unnecessary. Letting go, tears fall into bliss, into celebration.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

"The Buddha described what we call self as a collection of aggregates - elements of mind and body - that function interdependently, creating the appearance of a woman or a man. We then identify with that image or appearance, taking it to be I or mine, imagining it to have some inherent self-existence. For example we get up in the morning, look in the mirror, recognize the reflection, and think, "Yes, that's me again." We then add all kinds of concepts to this sense of self: I'm a woman or a man, I'm a certain age, I'm a happy or unhappy person - the list goes on and on.

When we examine our experience, though, we see that there is not some core being to whom experience refers; rather it is simply empty phenomena rolling on. It is empty in the sense that there is no one behind the arising and changing phenomena to whom they happen. A rainbow is a good example of this. We go out after a rainstorm and feel that moment of delight if a rainbow appears in the sky. Mostly, we simply enjoy the sight without investigating the real nature of what is happening. But when we look more deeply, it becomes clear that there is no thing called rainbow apart from the particular conditions of air and moisture and light. Each one of us is like that rainbow - an appearance, a magical display, arising out of our various elements of mind and body."

- Joseph Goldstein

(Found posted on Whiskey River)

Beard said...

I am enjoying your epic poem, a little at a time. I hope you do not mind, but I tried putting some life feed into your poem and I think that it reads very nicely. Unforturnately some life feeds will probably also be added by blogger, but you will get the idea.

Beyond the rainbow... I don't know how to write this.

Tears are falling, falling, falling – a lifetimes of tears.
I am alone and it is raining in my eyes,
and there is such a beautiful rainbow,
skies of blue, clouds so white.
Flowers bloom in this heartache
and I am overwhelmed with gratitude,
and the tears fall, the rain falls.

It is all water; I am water,
the vast ocean that stretches beyond any shore,
out to eternity,
in to infinity.
And the thing of it, I sit here in all my humanity,
just an ordinary person, a father, a son, a man,
a friend, with all my humanity, faults and frailties,
just a soap bubble.
And as a person, a self, I know I can never make it,
never cross the river,
and trying, trying so hard, reaching, yearning,
all my effort and struggle, in this journey to find my way home,
to a place where trouble melts like lemon drops,
where I melt like ice in the morning sun,
where I wake up and find the clouds far behind me.

Beard said...

p.s. It is not just a dream. When we wake up all of the clouds are indeed behind us. Only it is not quite the same "us" that wakes up as the "us" that is troubled by clouds. But perhaps you already know all of this.

Beard said...

Curious mistake. I meant line feeds instead of life feeds.

It came out perfect(in one of the views) by the way. Quite a nice poem.

Jon said...

It's not a "nice poem," to me. It feels like my undoing. Like I'm crossing the threshold. What will be left when I go ? And yet, there is nothing I want more.

Tears are falling, yes, they really are. Thank you, curse you, and thank you for this. I know you know what I mean.

Jackal said...

Absorbing piece.

I agree with your sentiments,
'While our human life contains exquisite pain, it does not follow that you need to suffer. Pain has beauty in it, deep down. Agony has ecstasy in it. They are a part of living, but suffering is unnecessary. Letting go, tears fall into bliss, into celebration.'