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“Do you think that when Rembrandt was painting, he stood there with a brush in his hand thinking, “Okay, I wonder what my next brushstroke is going to be. If I put it there then it may clash with that. I’m not quite sure, but maybe two more centimeters to the right, let’s measure it. It might look better over….” Creativity arise out of the state of thoughtless presence in which you are much more awake than when you are engrossed in thinking.” ~ Eckhart Tolle
Blue skies (Photo credit: Ennor)
In considering the post for today, I read stories, essays, poems, haiku’s and more, looking for something that is, to me, both meaningful and relevant. As I did so, music played in the background and I could not resist singing along to some of the lyrics–that’s when i hit me. What is more creative than song lyrics written by musical artists and their muses?
Perhaps, I am simply aging myself, but this week, I am posting the lyrics to a song from one of my favorite musical artists of all time, Marvin Gaye. He was an artist long before his time and based on information obtained here on Song Facts, considered himself “a student of Don Juan and Carlos Castaneda.” He published this prophetic song in 1971, but it still holds true 43 years later. I share in his lament and I hope that you will too.
Mercy, Mercy Me (The Ecology) Lyrics
“Woo ah, mercy mercy me
Ah things ain’t what they used to be, no no
Where did all the blue skies go?
Poison is the wind that blows from the north and south and east
Woo mercy, mercy me, mercy father
Ah things ain’t what they used to be, no no
Oil wasted on the ocean and upon our seas, fish full of mercury
Ah oh mercy, mercy me
Ah things ain’t what they used to be, no no
Radiation under ground and in the sky
Animals and birds who live nearby are dying
Oh mercy, mercy me
Ah things ain’t what they used to be
What about this overcrowded land
How much more abuse from man can she stand?
Oh, na na…
My sweet Lord… No
My Lord… My sweet Lord”
If you haven’t had the pleasure of hearing him sing the song, you might enjoy hearing and watching this video. I urge you to listen to it and tell me what you think. (I apologize in advance for the preceding commercial, but you can skip it in a matter of seconds.)
Flagler Beach (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Portrait at 2
She loved the infinite archeology of a beach. Also, the precise, triangle snap that accompanied
the opening of a carton of orange juice. If she’d had the words, she’d describe
the specific smell of her grandmother’s garage, or the shade of red
her lipstick was, or the name of the broken shape it left on a square of Kleenex,
or how the sound “No” leveled her to the bone, and how the best she could do was let her eyes run empty, crush her skin against the door, and flee the room in rebellion.
Now, of course, she is brimming with synonym and metaphor, articulating shadows
from each crack in the sidewalk, raking through the mulch of language that lives in everything.
And yet, even with this arsenal, she sees the photograph, portrait at 2, of a girl armed simply
with touch, passing fingers through grains of Florida sand, memorizing every one of its stories.
Blessings, Lydia
All Will Be Well, ~ Julian of Norwich
seeking querencia 