Divali
"Bīo nū on ofoste, þæt ic ær-welan,
gold-æht ongite, gearo scēawige
swegle searo-gimmas, þæt ic ðŷ sēft mæge
æfter māððum-welan mīn ālætan,
līf ond lēodscipe, þone ic longe hēold." - Beowulf
.
.
- It's time to say, it's time to know, that it's OK, that some must go... It's a large ring, hammered gold inlaid with a garnet sigil. Sits heavy on my littlest finger as I'm typing this, throwing my rhythm off just slightly. I'm getting used to it. The signet face bears three profiles of forgotten gods, poets or emperors, generals or oreads, the inside a bas-relief of Hermes. It was my father's, from his twenty-first birthday onwards, and his father's before him, back to Grandpa Jack who had no father. The ring, my grandmother theorized, sprung, like Jack, fully-formed from the earth some centuries ago. Grandpa Jack was a dwarf, one of the Old People. Ninety some-odd years ago he found the ring, dug out of the black Polish loam or stolen from some passing well-to-dos. Fleeing the land with his sons, his brothers reduced to ash in the furnaces of war, my family sailed west, taking the ring. My own father gave it to me today, though he never wore it, as a birthday present and the ritual of birthright.
Betty died last night. I was out with my grandparents and their friend the other night, eating dinner, experimenting with being an adult. "We're all dying," Sam said. "First my wife, then me and my [brush with death], Byron, now Betty's on her way out. Everyone I know is dying." We shuffled our silverware and looked at our food, not particularly hungry and in less of a rush to finish dinner and get to the theatre. Anyway, Betty broke her clasp on the reins of life and drifted downstream, wreathed in a thousand candles bobbing lightly on the ebb tide. A sleeping Lakshmi floating into her new year.
Went out to celebrate the aftermath of my birthday with my family tonight, three generations at a table. My grandparents arrived pretty upset- their friend was dead- but in warm talk and food they settled to the joy of kin. Rich wine and my grandfather's stories about the early days of computers, the ritual dinner games played, the histories and the jokes told again, the evening rested in the burnished gold band on my least finger. It was the best present.
Now I'm looking out at Grandpa Jack's grinning face playing moonlight on the branches and the lawn. The Old People have a way of holding onto the world of seeming things beyond the clutch of mortal fingers. My family's history stretches out into the singing night, our past bound to ongoing lives with rings of earth and love. Far in the autumning sky, a thousand dancing stars drift down the celestial Ganges towards the dawn. We will walk in fields of gold...
.
.
.
.
"Winter was cold and the clothing was thin
But the gentle shepherd calls the tune
Oh dear mother what shall I do
First please your eyes and then your ears Jenny
Exchanging love tokens say goodnight
.
Lay down my dear sister
Won't you lay and take your rest
Won't you lay your head upon your saviours breast
And I love you but Jesus loves you the best
And I bid you goodnight, goodnight, goodnight,
And I bid you goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.
One of these mornings bright and early and fine.
Goodnight, goodnight
Not a cricket not a spirit going to shout me on
Goodnight, goodnight
I go walking in the valley of the shadow of death
Goodnight, goodnight
And his rod and his staff shall comfort me
Goodnight, goodnight
Oh John the wine he saw the sign
Goodnight, goodnight
Oh John say I seen a number of signs
Goodnight, goodnight
Tell A for the ark that wonderful boat
Goodnight, goodnight
You know they built it on the land getting water to float
Goodnight, goodnight
Tell B for the beast at the ending of the wood
Goodnight, goodnight
You know it ate all the children when they wouldn't be good
Goodnight, goodnight
I remember quite well, I remember quite well
Goodnight, goodnight
I was walking in Jerusalem just like John
Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.
.
Who would lose and who would bruise
Or who would live quite prettily?
And who would love what comes along
And fill the air with joyous song
.
Who would go and who would come
Or who would simply linger
And who would hide behind your chair
And steal your crystallised ginger
.
Nebulous nearnesses cry to me
At this timeless moment
Someone dear to me wants me near, makes me high
I can hear vibrations fly
Through mangoes, pomegranates and planes
All the same
When it reaches me and teaches me
To sigh
.
Who would mouse and who would lion
Or who would be the tamer
And who would hear directions clear
From the unnameable namer
.
Who would skip and who would plod
Or who would lie quite stilly
And who would ride backwards on a giraffe
Stopping every so often to laugh
.
Amoebas are very small
.
Oh ah ee oo there's absolutely no strife
Living the timeless life
I don't need a wife
Living the timeless life
If I need a friend I just give a wriggle
Split right down the middle
And when I look there's two of me
Both as handsome as can be
Oh here we go slithering, here we go slithering and squelching on
Oh here we go slithering, here we go slithering and squelching on
Oh ah ee oo there's absolutely no strife
Living the timeless life
.
Black hair brown hair feather and scale
Seed and stamen and all unnamed lives that live
Turn your quivering nerves in my direction
Turn your quivering nerves in my direction
Feel the energy projection of my cells
Wishes you well.
.
May the long time sun shine upon you
All love surround you
And the pure light within you
Guide you all the way on.
.
May the long time sun shine upon you
All love surround you
And the pure light within you
Guide you all the way on.
.
May the long time sun shine upon you
All love surround you
And the pure light within you
Guide you all the way on.
.
May the long time sun shine upon you
All love surround you
And the pure light within you
Guide you all the way on.
.
May the long time sun shine upon you
All love surround you
And the pure light within you
Guide you all the way on." - The Incredible String Band
.
.
.
gold-æht ongite, gearo scēawige
swegle searo-gimmas, þæt ic ðŷ sēft mæge
æfter māððum-welan mīn ālætan,
līf ond lēodscipe, þone ic longe hēold." - Beowulf
.
.
- It's time to say, it's time to know, that it's OK, that some must go... It's a large ring, hammered gold inlaid with a garnet sigil. Sits heavy on my littlest finger as I'm typing this, throwing my rhythm off just slightly. I'm getting used to it. The signet face bears three profiles of forgotten gods, poets or emperors, generals or oreads, the inside a bas-relief of Hermes. It was my father's, from his twenty-first birthday onwards, and his father's before him, back to Grandpa Jack who had no father. The ring, my grandmother theorized, sprung, like Jack, fully-formed from the earth some centuries ago. Grandpa Jack was a dwarf, one of the Old People. Ninety some-odd years ago he found the ring, dug out of the black Polish loam or stolen from some passing well-to-dos. Fleeing the land with his sons, his brothers reduced to ash in the furnaces of war, my family sailed west, taking the ring. My own father gave it to me today, though he never wore it, as a birthday present and the ritual of birthright.
Betty died last night. I was out with my grandparents and their friend the other night, eating dinner, experimenting with being an adult. "We're all dying," Sam said. "First my wife, then me and my [brush with death], Byron, now Betty's on her way out. Everyone I know is dying." We shuffled our silverware and looked at our food, not particularly hungry and in less of a rush to finish dinner and get to the theatre. Anyway, Betty broke her clasp on the reins of life and drifted downstream, wreathed in a thousand candles bobbing lightly on the ebb tide. A sleeping Lakshmi floating into her new year.
Went out to celebrate the aftermath of my birthday with my family tonight, three generations at a table. My grandparents arrived pretty upset- their friend was dead- but in warm talk and food they settled to the joy of kin. Rich wine and my grandfather's stories about the early days of computers, the ritual dinner games played, the histories and the jokes told again, the evening rested in the burnished gold band on my least finger. It was the best present.
Now I'm looking out at Grandpa Jack's grinning face playing moonlight on the branches and the lawn. The Old People have a way of holding onto the world of seeming things beyond the clutch of mortal fingers. My family's history stretches out into the singing night, our past bound to ongoing lives with rings of earth and love. Far in the autumning sky, a thousand dancing stars drift down the celestial Ganges towards the dawn. We will walk in fields of gold...
.
.
.
.
"Winter was cold and the clothing was thin
But the gentle shepherd calls the tune
Oh dear mother what shall I do
First please your eyes and then your ears Jenny
Exchanging love tokens say goodnight
.
Lay down my dear sister
Won't you lay and take your rest
Won't you lay your head upon your saviours breast
And I love you but Jesus loves you the best
And I bid you goodnight, goodnight, goodnight,
And I bid you goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.
One of these mornings bright and early and fine.
Goodnight, goodnight
Not a cricket not a spirit going to shout me on
Goodnight, goodnight
I go walking in the valley of the shadow of death
Goodnight, goodnight
And his rod and his staff shall comfort me
Goodnight, goodnight
Oh John the wine he saw the sign
Goodnight, goodnight
Oh John say I seen a number of signs
Goodnight, goodnight
Tell A for the ark that wonderful boat
Goodnight, goodnight
You know they built it on the land getting water to float
Goodnight, goodnight
Tell B for the beast at the ending of the wood
Goodnight, goodnight
You know it ate all the children when they wouldn't be good
Goodnight, goodnight
I remember quite well, I remember quite well
Goodnight, goodnight
I was walking in Jerusalem just like John
Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.
.
Who would lose and who would bruise
Or who would live quite prettily?
And who would love what comes along
And fill the air with joyous song
.
Who would go and who would come
Or who would simply linger
And who would hide behind your chair
And steal your crystallised ginger
.
Nebulous nearnesses cry to me
At this timeless moment
Someone dear to me wants me near, makes me high
I can hear vibrations fly
Through mangoes, pomegranates and planes
All the same
When it reaches me and teaches me
To sigh
.
Who would mouse and who would lion
Or who would be the tamer
And who would hear directions clear
From the unnameable namer
.
Who would skip and who would plod
Or who would lie quite stilly
And who would ride backwards on a giraffe
Stopping every so often to laugh
.
Amoebas are very small
.
Oh ah ee oo there's absolutely no strife
Living the timeless life
I don't need a wife
Living the timeless life
If I need a friend I just give a wriggle
Split right down the middle
And when I look there's two of me
Both as handsome as can be
Oh here we go slithering, here we go slithering and squelching on
Oh here we go slithering, here we go slithering and squelching on
Oh ah ee oo there's absolutely no strife
Living the timeless life
.
Black hair brown hair feather and scale
Seed and stamen and all unnamed lives that live
Turn your quivering nerves in my direction
Turn your quivering nerves in my direction
Feel the energy projection of my cells
Wishes you well.
.
May the long time sun shine upon you
All love surround you
And the pure light within you
Guide you all the way on.
.
May the long time sun shine upon you
All love surround you
And the pure light within you
Guide you all the way on.
.
May the long time sun shine upon you
All love surround you
And the pure light within you
Guide you all the way on.
.
May the long time sun shine upon you
All love surround you
And the pure light within you
Guide you all the way on.
.
May the long time sun shine upon you
All love surround you
And the pure light within you
Guide you all the way on." - The Incredible String Band
.
.
.