Big Ole Poetry Challenge

I was inspired recently by Eryl's post in which she discusses the meaning of the word "core."  She posted a drawing of the earth with a piece cut out of it to show the red and orange core.  It wasn't until I read this post that I made the connection between the second chakra and what is commonly called the core of the body.

I have also been inspired by Dan Gurney's emphasis on poetic forms lately, so rather than put together one of my usual convoluted essays, I decided to write a poem on the subject of the core.  I chose to make it a sestina, which is one of the most complicated forms to write.  The premise is that you choose six words which you use repeatedly at the end of each stanza, in a certain order.  You can read about sestinas and their intricate ordering here.

I've only written one other in my life, and it was handed to me by the muse in the shower one day.  This one, while not quite as easily given, was still not as hard as it seems like it should be.  I had no idea what I was going to write; I just chose six words that are interesting and relevant to me right now, and then it practically wrote itself.  There is something very freeing to me about writing in a strict form, the way strict choreography makes a dance more fluid.

I would like to challenge any adventurous blogger to play with this form, and then share what you came up with on your blog.  It's really a lot of fun, especially if you're a word nerd like me.  And I've realized that there's something about this form that lends itself to extraordinary magic.

Svadhisthana Sestina

If you're going to start at all, start from the core,
not with singing or speaking, but with quiet
breath.  Inhale and exhale the color orange,
let inspiration and expiration interlace
as the brilliance of the sun becomes the moon.
So begins the dance.  In and out, it spirals slow,

more than can be imagined, as the Earth was slow
to reveal herself, her galaxy home and flaming core.
As she circles round the sun, so is circled by the moon
in this constant looping stillness:  space is cold and quiet.
Look into the night - shawl of stars like lace
across black linen; on the horizon, a sash of mounting orange,

trick of light and proximity.  Thick hot orange
ascends to cold and clears to white, with a long slow
birth up the sky.  Notice these movements; they lace
together all that can be noticed around the single core
of your noticing.  Then refrain from vision and be quiet
in your desire, in your fear, as you moon

over all you feel you've lost.  Whisper to the Moon
and she will teach you.  Now peel and eat an orange,
one section at a time.  This is not a quiet
action; a scream attends each slow
tear of flesh from flesh.  You will find no core
in this, only a tough and tangled lace.

Without washing the juice from your fingers, lace
them together.  You are cupping the moon.
Resting your hands in your lap, close to your core,
simply digest.  The food becomes your blood, scent of orange
your remembrance.  Let your heartbeat slow
until it too is consumed, its work quiet.

Here is the only place there is, this quiet,
where all things emerge and interlace.
You may speak now, but let your words form slow.
They must ever recall the solid moon
and illusive sun, that dismembered orange,
the things you've never touched, galaxy to molten core.

Spent now is the slow night with its quiet
shades, and once again the moon dissolves like ancient lace
into blue sky, green earth, orange sun.  Into your fiery core.

Peeling the Orange: Bottom Half

When I began to look more deeply into the orange, Googling brought me immediately to the second chakra, called Svadhisthana, whose color is orange.  (If you don't know what a chakra is, go here.)

symbol for Svadhisthana

This chakra is also associated with the ninth sephirah of the Tree of Life, Yesod.  The attributes and themes of Svadhisthana and Yesod are quite similar.  Both are associated with the Moon, for one thing, which I find interesting, since the moon often looks orange.  Not so incidentally, this weekend saw the biggest and brightest full moon of 2010, with orange-appearing Mars right next to it.  The reason the moon looked bigger and brighter is because it was closer to the Earth than it usually is.  This also means higher and lower tides, and I feel like it's been that way in my life lately.  I've definitely been having a high tide of orange and inspiration, but also a low tide in terms of energy and emotion.

The truly useful information about Svadhisthana/Yesod for me is that they are both related to energy centers in the pelvic region of the body.  Svadhisthana is called "one's own abode," the "seat of life," the origin in the body of chi or the lifeforce, and is associated with emotions, relationships, dualities of all kinds, and with water.

The Waterfall

by Kahlil Gibran

(I found this on a great blog called Heartsteps, 

which Dan Gurney called my attention to recently.)  
 

Yesod is "Foundation," and has been referred to by at least one Kabbalist as "the Translator," because it's seen as a bridge between spiritual energies/ideals and their manifestation in the human being and therefore in the world, the Malkuth (or Shekhinah) realm.  

In order to make an attempt at brevity (hahaha), there's a lot I'm leaving out of this discussion (including the strong association for both Yesod and Svadhisthana with sexuality.) I am grossly generalizing and broadly summarizing; all of this is more intricate than I'm making it appear.  Part of this intricacy is that different sources interpret different ways, especially with the Kabbalah.  That's one of the beautiful things about Judaism, in my view.  It's very open to creative interpretation, and encourages that more than other religions seem to.  Anyway, I've included the above links if you want more thorough information.  

My focus, what is most helpful to me in this exploration, is the series of exercises I've discovered, both physical and spiritual, whose purpose is the healthy flow of energy in and from this area of the body, and thus a healthier emotional state.  According to several sources, the pelvis and hips constitute a region where old emotions can be stored and eventually stuck.  I have had lower back and hip problems since I was pregnant with my oldest daughter, so this speaks to me.  

The descriptions I've read of what happens when the second chakra is too open (overly emotionally reactive, too absorptive of others' emotions) and too closed (shut down, apathetic, cold)  both fit me.  I go back and forth between these states, and what is between them is anger and irritability. Last year, when I was in the Malkuth/Shekhinah "class" in the mystical school of life, I learned how the physical world (especially my own body) works.  This year's class, which is teaching me to use some new tools to add to the set, is a continuation which makes perfect and uncanny sense, since Yesod is just above Malkuth on the Tree of Life.  My sap is rising. 
                                                                                          
The Translator aspect of Yesod speaks to me as well.  I need to be able to take the amazing ideas and energies that I stir around in my head, and translate them into manifest form, some kind of creative action.  Writing is a primary expression for me, but it can't just be that.  This is my year of quiet love.  To learn to love quietly, I need to balance my emotional state and find a flow of love-energy that can be expressed naturally, through many means, not just words. 

This morning in church, one of the scriptures was the famous 1 Corinthians 13, the "love" passage.  I was struck by Paul's analogy of the gong, that one can have brilliance with words and ideas, but without love, it's worth exactly nothing:  it's like a noisy gong. Wayne, the pastor, demonstrated during the children's sermon with a cheap little clangy gong compared to a Tibetan singing bowl.   I have been feeling gong-like lately, especially around my family.  I want to be a singing bowl. 

I need to be able to feel the people around me without drowning in it or shutting myself down when it's all too much.  I need a vibrancy and vitality that flows out of me and doesn't just get stuck in my head.  Spiritual concepts, no matter how elevated, are no good at all if they are not expressed in concrete action.  And the time for that action has come.  What good is peeling an orange if you don't eat it?

The trick now is to get all of this wonderful information from my head into the rest of my body.  My brain has been overstimulated with this stuff, and I have yet to actually apply it and do the friggin' exercises.  My body, my emotions, and my energy level are suffering for it.

The word Svadhisthana means sweetness.  This is a sweetness not only to consume but to share.  I've peeled the orange; now it's time to take it in and let its nutrients move through my body, into my heart, and emanate to others through my very skin.

Bhramari Devi, Hindu bee goddess.

She is a manifestation of Kundalini:

the buzzing of her bees ascends up the spine,

awakening the chakras.