Primarily a writing exercise, this dream journal-inspired blog is a quiet introspective sojourn into the process that we traverse in going from private dream to public art. I see our dreaming as an internalized mythmaking. As I philosophize and expressively exhibit dreams, both private and public, I encourage and delight in creative language as a way to practice experiential metaphors through a “public dreaming." Writing Theory: Creative Dream Fiction

Tuesday, 12 June 2012

The Ascension of Living Myth

Attar of Neishabur
"Yea, ev'n the abstract Forms that Space and Time
Men call, Weal and Woe, Virtue and Crime,
And all the several Creeds like those who fell
Before them, Musulman and Infidel
Shall from the Face of Being melt away,
Cancell'd and swept as Dreams before Day."

- excerpt from "Bird Parliament" by Farid ud-Din Attar (translated by Edward FitzGerald)
Four massive peaks lift into the untouchable sky with such lofty height. This is the Eastern gateway and riverine border into the Canadian Rockies. In between two strong, unearthly peaks my cousins and I rest, having climbed afoot to the base of a glowing summit ahead in the crystal blue sky, cloudless and serene. Atop a rock-spurned crevasse leading into a valley gorge, we find a curious green-hoop tunnel net. Its loose thread flows welcomingly calm in the whipping winds. Instead of continuing upward I take a chance at descending through the unusual contraption. Leaping into its circular folds with another cousin we are cast into a semi-suspended state, gliding carefully above the chipped stone, shifting boulders and overhanging vegetation. We softly exit the net tunnel from its organic spindly bottom, dusting ourselves off in wishful camaraderie with the mountain prairie gold snow grassland. My oldest cousin decides to descend through the hoop alone and with swift might, overconfident and unthinking. He cascades heavily, knocking against the back of the mountain while encased in the mysterious, protective green netting. With a hard thud, he injures himself upon the ground, weak with delirium. A time after, I ascend, lone to the place where my cousins and I once found the curious organic net. Instead of looking through the downward spiral, I look up towards a distant peak amid the quartet of towering ascension. At the summit, a wild enormity of avian flesh flaps it's wings. The sight sends me into uncontrolled stupefaction, dizzy with groaning delight: a myth comes to life!
"Birds are usually considered a very good omen for the dreamer to receive and this is doubly true if the birds are brightly coloured, singing, and flying about." (iDream)
"If you ascend a mountain in your dreams, and the way is pleasant and verdant, you will rise swiftly to wealth and prominence...To awaken when you are at a dangerous point in ascending, denotes that you will find affairs taking a flattering turn when they appear gloomy...Mountains can also symbolize a higher realm of consciousness, knowledge, and spiritual truth." (iDream)

predicated on human life,
a delicacy, of what worth?

to live the most real dream
inspired and enforced,
to prepare a day and night

ocean's curse praying in public, before the all-knowing tremendous falling
into outer loves and inner minds
born of hearts, and wonders, worrying and dying, striving and being


- excerpt from "human life

1 comment:

  1. One good Attar of Neishabur deserves another bird poet, Crane (Hart), whose "Bridge: Atlantis" reminded me of your excerpt:

    "So seven oceans answer from their dream...
    Beyond whose frosted capes the moon bequeaths
    Two worlds of sleep (O arching strands of song!)—
    Onward and up the crystal-flooded aisle
    White tempest nets file upward, upward ring
    With silver terraces the humming spars,
    The loft of vision, palladium helm of stars."