Random musings from my awakening dementia...
03.12.2004  
The Night Abraham Called to the Stars
 

Thoughts I've thunk while sippin' at a cup of tea and reading something provoking, often get dropped here for the benefit of humanity and my own hubris.

© 2004-2005, Howard Abrams



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Once again Anita inspires me with a new poem, and once again I come up with a different view on it. That’s what I like about poetry… so many right answers. That’s also what I like about my friends (even virtual ones like Anita )

The Night Abraham Called to the Stars
— Robert Bly

Do you remember the night Abraham first called
To the stars? He cried to Saturn: “You are my Lord!”
How happy he was! When he saw the Dawn Star,

He cried, “You are my Lord!” How destroyed he was
When he watched them set. Friends, he is like us:
We take as our Lord the stars that go down.

We are faithful companions to the unfaithful stars.
We are diggers, like badgers; we love to feel
The dirt flying out from behind our hind claws.

And no one can convince us that mud is not
Beautiful. It is our badger soul that thinks so.
We are ready to spend the rest of our life

Walking with muddy shoes in the wet fields.
We resemble exiles in the kingdom of the serpent.
We stand in the onion fields looking up at the night.

My heart is a calm potato by day, and a weeping,
Abandoned woman by night. Friend, tell me what to do,
Since I am a man in love with the setting stars.

My first reading of this poem (like my first reading of most poems) begins with confusion as I try to understand context through symbol. Saturn is the “star” of timeless age and was associated with Yahweh (the god of the Old Testament).

The Dawn Star, however, is Venus, the goddess of love, beauty and often raunchy sex. The two stars (and the two planets) couldn’t be more different. Claiming to worship both can be quite contradictory, and is the base of many of our conflicts in life that start from an early age. In the case of Abraham, how can he honor his father (Saturn), but follow his heart and his soul on a different spiritual path (Venus)?

What happens when our aspirations and lofty dreams wane with the cruel light of the morning’s reality and the stars fall into the day? Where has my initial enthusiasm gone since I started sitting on this worn cushion? This book, loved to dog-eared-ness isn’t respected as much since I read an critical review of it on Amazon. Besides, the stars, though inspirational, don’t provide food… that is found by digging in the dirt.

My body is made of mud, and all our experiences get embedded and hidden in the dirt of our selves. We must dig, but if we don’t look up for breath, we suffocate.

But what’s so wrong with mud? It smells so good when you first turn over a clump. But just because I have to dig to eat, and just because my love wanes, doesn’t mean that my heart won’t love the next rising star.

That’s life.

A comment to this from Anita

I wasn’t even looking for this, and it’s the most amazing & beautiful thing: an article about making shiny mud balls (found at the March 2nd entry of Ben Hammersley’s site).

Comment posted on Saturday, 13 March 2004