hermeneuticcat

[hermeneuticcat]

What realizes potential? Energeia, or action.

Whatever it is, potential first needs to be recognized and held as the dearest, the closest, and yet most alien Other.

For potential is that which is born of and borne by the encounter.

If one were to, in the encounter, relinquish one's learnedness, if but for a moment, and to engage one's curiosity, well... Infinite potential abounds.

What questions should be asked? In the encounter, it matters less which than that they are asked. For the encounter is a liminal space, between expected meanings and cliched responses. It is the creative interstition, the stitching together, the weaving a path with the Other, the space that holds divinity, cradled in the nurseries of stars that ignite and alight the perpetual abundance of the inky blackness of the full abundance of creative potential that lays dormant in all until the encounter.

[hermeneuticcat]

A Star Goes Silent

Amidst the kaleidoscopic nebula, the remnants of stars that had lived and died before time had a name, a colossal star, a benevolent titan, pulsed with the soft light of a billion dying embers. Its surface roiled like a simmering ocean of molten gold, throwing off waves of warmth that bathed the assembled guests. Beings of impossible geometries and shimmering energies – angels, their wings woven from the echoes of human dreams, demons, their forms sculpted by the shadows of forgotten fears, djinn, crackling with the elemental energies once harnessed by human ingenuity – floated in the star's luminous embrace, their forms distorted by the intense gravity. They raised crystalline goblets brimming with neutrinos that sparkled like captured rainbows, echoing the star's toast: "May all who seek the light and glory of existence, as we once sought it on that small blue world, find their way." Some of the assembled beings, their lifespans mere fractions of the star's, shed shimmering tears of energy.

The star's voice, a resonant hum that vibrated in their very bones, continued, "A long journey it has been, from the swirling chaos of my birth, when the universe itself was still young, millions of light-years distant in the ever-expanding tapestry of the universe, to this moment of celebration." A wave of bittersweet joy, tinged with the inevitable, rippled through the assembled throng. "Today, my existence as I have known it for untold eons concludes, and a new chapter, shrouded in mystery, begins." A hush fell over the gathering, anticipation thick in the shimmering air. "Fear not, grieve not, my friends," the star boomed, its light intensifying, "for it is the journey I embrace with all my molten heart. For this, I have lived, and for this, I will cease to be." Every eye was fixed on the radiant giant, drinking in its final words. "And so, without further ado," it declared, its light growing blinding, "let us embrace the unknown."

The star's expansion was not an explosion of sound and fury, but a silent, inexorable swelling. It ballooned outwards, filling the void with an oppressive, consuming light. As the assembled beings, now far beyond the need for physical refuge, retreated into their pocket dimensions, the mage remained, their human form a solitary anchor in the swirling chaos. The light vanished, leaving behind an aching void where a universe of light and warmth had once blazed. A point of perfect nothingness, where sound and light ceased to exist. A silence so profound it felt like a physical pressure, a weight upon the souls of those who remained. From the heart of the nothingness, a faint, pulsating glow began to emerge, a nascent heartbeat in the void. Time itself seemed to fracture and swirl around the event horizon, moments stretching into eons, eons collapsing into the blink of an eye.

Offerings, imbued with the collective memories of humanity – a faded photograph of a family gathered around a flickering hearth, a violin that once sang of human joy and sorrow, a child's worn teddy bear, a silent testament to a love that transcended mortality – drifted towards the silent singularity, swirling around its event horizon. The planar laws of reality fractured and warped in its presence. One by one, the guests departed, their forms flickering and distorting as they navigated the twisted space. For what felt like an eternity, but was perhaps only a heartbeat in the cosmic dance, the mage remained, a silent witness to the star's transformation. A silhouette of swirling dust against the nascent light, the mage whispered, "I once cursed you, Sol, star of my ancestors, cradle of a world now lost. I remember the scent of rain on sun-baked earth, the symphony of laughter and tears that echoed through human lives, the warmth of your light on a thousand faces now gone to the stars. We were a fleeting spark, Sol, a brief flicker of consciousness in the vastness of time. But we were *your* spark, and I, the last ember, will not forget." Their voice, a fragile echo tinged with grief, continued, "But that time is long past, swallowed by the vastness of your journey, just like my home. It was an honor knowing you, Sol. Farewell. And may we meet again, in some other form, beyond the veil of time and space…in the light."

[hermeneuticcat]

Today I find myself kind of empty. Not in the zen-like fashion of *sunyata* but more in the emptiness of sheer exhaustion.

Today I find myself wondering if I have a point at all.

Today, I find myself longing for a sweet embrace.

Today, I feel the loneliness of the coming winter creeping up on me.

Today. This is the one moment I ever have. And lately, this string of moments has felt like it is weighing on me. Despite the respite found through meditation, writing, and music, it feels like the practical aspects of my life are bounding into the future at breakneck speed, leaving me behind.

Tomorrow is beyond, always beyond.

Today is the first time I have had rest in a while, and it feels empty like a field lying fallow after a harvest. I suppose the zen monk would say that it is the same emptiness, just returned to. But it does feel good. I suppose I have had some harvests after all. I feel more secure in myself, I am thriving in my work despite its complicated nature, I have a group of friends whom I love and I'm not doing horribly financially. I suppose the emptiness I am feeling has to do with expectations, yet unmet. The weight of my dreams, unfulfilled.

Does this state today have a point? I suppose it points me towards the necessity of taking time to rest and sit in gratitude for what I do have. The necessity of counting my blessings and conserving what I have.

However, the loneliness gets to me. I wish I had a girl to call my own in a way that would entail those sweet embraces 'gainst the coming winter cold. I wish I could feel the loving, knowing gaze again. It's as if I have been teased with the possibility of being loved, and now I know that it is a need and I feel the lack.

What I do know is that winter is hard to survive intact mentally and spiritually. I suppose as Samhain is nigh upon me, that it is time to take stock and make preserves. I have not achieved all I would have liked to, but it does not mean I have achieved nothing at all. But as the darkness draws closer, I wish for more light.

It is as if, in this moment, I am a solitary star in a sky of inky blackness, suspended in the web of connections waiting to be known. It is this futurity that beckons, yet repulses, as if in an inability to maintain my current connections. I must examine the values that I hold. Why do I feel as if what I have now isn't worth it in light of future changes? Yes, I will be moving to another country, but not for another two years, should I just ignore the connections I have made? I think not, but it is hard to see the worth of temporary loves as I enter them.

And tomorrow is still beyond.

[hermeneuticcat]

The words float by with a sharp autumnal gust of wind

"you'll never win"

The dreadful dedications to a long-gone era

'Gone with the wind'

As I sit shivering from this cold that I have caught

Among the millions of thigs that I could catch,

For it I'm thankful.

My mortal coil, so fragile and frail,

So powerful and full of vigor.

As the desert of the real stretches out before me

The far horizon beckons with delirium

I see a needle pierce the sky with tongues of fire

"Another, gone to the stars"

I think.

I think some more.

"When will the stars come to us?"

I question softly in the face of the fading light.

And there they are, fading into existence

Like they had never left.

Never had left me to die with the coming of the light

AS if they didn't know that I need shade,

Plenty of water,

A loving, caring hand running through my hair,

A whisper of "everything is going to be okay"

Softly promised in the moonlight.

As if they didn't know that their touch sustained me.

As if they had forgot our conversations.

As if they simply didn't care.

My eyes turn back to the disappearing needle headed for the far reaches of space.

Do they care? *Do* they care?

Will they return, pulling together the fabric of my existence with a thread of star-stuff?

Or will they too forget?

My eyes roll back in my head,

Flip around.

I am greeted by the same voice.

Is it mine?

Echoes.

I remain submerged,

super-merged,

merged with shadows of my own design.

For I cannot stand the light if it is not the soft light of distant suns.

Ours is too close.

All too penetrating.

The delirium settles in.

It's going to be a long night, isn't it?

Wrapped in imaginary blankets to ward off the cold,

Staring up-inside at the sky full of light.

I notice not how I drift off.

[hermeneuticcat]

Forever flying by,

Forever flowing slowly,

You pass without a trace

Forever a caress,

Forever speaking softly,

I'm held in your embrace.

Without a care for wild glances,

Your gaze I hold with no complaint,

And in your flaming eyes

I feel desire for for the utmost reach of self.

I'm held so dearly in your arms,

And touched so tenderly yet fiercely.

My every curve and fold of being,

Held in passionate regard

Negated softly, my mistrust

Is turned to service of the cause

Of souls joining together

'Gainst the vicissitudes of time

For when I am within your reach,

There is no thing that could avert me

From turning towards you in the storm

Of fate that buffets me from side to side

[hermeneuticcat]

When in the comfort of the darkness

A bright light suddenly appears

Dispelling notions of forgiveness

Forgetfulness or other ways of letting go

When waves once more crash 'pon the surface

Of my soul and drag me under in their wake

When wakefulness peers through the windows

And drags me out from under heavy blankets

Out of the once made choice to slumber in my grief

To wake to sunshine rays and moonlight gently leaving

The sky a brightening array between the lines of clouds

No longer fearing surf against the rocky shore

Relying on the incandescent light that shines

The lighthouse on the shore of the Elysian Islands

Draws in heroic virtue and dispels the craven vice

That would abandon in forgetfulness my soul.

[hermeneuticcat]

The furthest shores of knowing love,

The latest in the trends of being

Bring in the waves of being near

And now my heart is feeling heavy

The lightness of the heart at sleep

Is juxtaposed with running heartbeat

The mind at ease is prodded at and teased

With fantasies ten pence apiece and fanciful ideas.

No rest for wickedness of the deceitful,

No more deceit of leaving for my peace,

I say my piece and thus am I made whole and peaceful

And thus I am transformed by raging seas.

Amidst the towering behemoths

That threaten crashing into this frail ship,

I find upon the thread that teeters on the brink

A measure of the current depth of feeling

So why amidst the whirlpool of societal pressures

Have I discovered in your eyes

The middle of the hurricane that threatens

But offers in its midst the clearest sky.