Wellspring of the Spirit

A number of readers have questioned me about the source of my spirituality, especially in light of my self-proclaimed status as a "Jewish Atheist." (Which evokes my biggest fear that people will accuse me of being redundant.) Responding to an online friend's query, I found myself spiraling into a poetic mode of thought and expression. I also shared some opening lines of a poignant poem about my deeply spiritual grandmother - while alive, a truly healing presence for my emotionally battle scarred family. Kindred Eyes captures three spiritual wellsprings that alternate between gently feeding and whitewater tumbling this author's psyche: WOMAN - past, present and future.

Whether in honor of my creative muses or as cathasis for PTMDS -- Post- Traumatic Mothers Day Syndrome, I have reprinted my email and Kindred Eyes in its entirety. Enjoy and, of course...Practice Safe Stress!

<< How did you arrive at "creative essence"? >>

I think it's a combo of factors. Had a very beautiful, spiritual grandmother who didn't speak much English, who lived with us for several years, who quietly endured various illnesses and amputations, who was an unconditionally loving woman, who seemed to intuitively understand her son's schizophrenia back in a time when he was labeled retarded, who kept my controlling mother at bay, who, whenever I think of grandma, almost invariably touches a sad, very deep part of me, like right now, as the tears ever so slightly well up. And losing her, a light went out in the family, in myself, and there was many years of darkness and danger. Until, finally, my father started confronting his demons, which freed me to seek out therapy, and freed me to leave NYC and go to "The Big Easy," which wasn't as I struggled to make sense of myself as a doctoral student; which is not such a good thing to do; so I went into psychoanalysis; and cried for nine months three times/week reliving my pain and the pain of all those around me, until, one day, I had nothing to say, which was very unlike me. And in that silence the whole world enveloped me. Or I felt connected to everything. I sensed a feeling of love for myself that had been missing for almost thirty years; since I was 1 1/2. And I knew that this mystical-like moment was the most profound thing that had ever happened to me. That it was the beginning of the end of my career as a doctoral student, though I had to struggle for two more years and burnout before I could leave academia, and truly embark upon and embrace "The Open Road."

And that moment, what I refer to as the revelation of my creative essence, along with the preceding nine month grieving and gestation, enabled me to discover the basic truth: that I had to embrace all of me; the painful, fearful, rageful, shameful as well as the gifts and talents that, after this revelation, I could no longer completely deny.

So my friend, this is some of my story. I just found a poetic voice as I was writing you and decided to flow with it. That you for helping open me up.

Gracefully yours,

Mark

P.S. My friend, after reading my response, decided my grandmother's hovering above watchng out for me.

Kindred Eyes

Grandma's eyes age old crystal wisdom Starry eyes to bathe in heaven's light Teary eyes mirrored soulful freedom Cold marble eyes...farewell sweet dreamy nights.

Grandma's eyes, grandma's eyes Warmed your heart like a sunrise Grandma's eyes, grandma's eyes Rays of hope in a sea of lies!

Momma's eyes their brilliance masked the danger Magnetic eyes compel an iron will Towering eyes watched her huddled strangers Such lonesome springs would never get their fill.

Momma's eyes, momma's eyes Her gold stars were the prize Momma's eyes, momma's eyes Why were they so idolized?

Are there laser beams dancing with moon vision Two fire balls blazing their own path Buddha blues in the face of confusion Kindred cat's eyes when, oh when, you coming back?

My cat's eyes, my cat's eyes From afar romanticize My cat's eyes, my cat's eyes Are you real or in disguise? Are you real or in disguise?

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