Serendipity And Synchronicity 2009

Serendipity And Synchronicity

 My code, my motto;

Inlet into

Every earthly thing held dear.

Not concrete;

Tricky, yet

Perceivable –

Every meeting one and/or;

The leader synchronicity

The all down here,

Who knows,

Perhaps up there and out?

Serendipity –

Well, logically

If synchronicity is law,

They are

Fraternal twins you don’t deserve,

Can’t wheedle forth,

Can’t pray for, get.

A ‘freebee’, so it seems,

Let’s say a seamless

Marvel.

 

© Serendipity & Synchronicity 6.7.2009Circling Round Energy; Nature Of & In Reality;Arlene Corwin

 

 

Creative Process

Creative Process

We sit around; cup after cup
Discuss and grope,
Grope and discuss:
Is it God or is it us,
Nature’s biogenesis the mystery of cycles,
Wrench of will the magic drop?
In any case,
The thing we face we can’t control:
Grace – where the body plays key role.
What is creation?
Is it always something new?
Is there ever repetition?
Is ‘new’ spontaneity – there on Monday, not on Tuesday?
Schumann’s mad, and still he writes.
Beethoven fights filled with curses.
Can’t rehearse – yet he rehearses.
Schubert writes, his flat half-frozen.
Can he help that he is ‘chosen’?
Genius forms despite itself;
Keeps the paper on the shelf,
Pencil present, fingers ready.
Even blind, with nerves unsteady
Strapping paintbrush to the wrist,
Memorizing palette sequence,
Using power’s dispensary
In mists of expectation.
Write, dance, paint, sing – what you will,
They don’t keep still, except inside,
For in the cyclone spiral-eye
Creation starts its spiral ride
From vacuum to a world outside.
Using worry, debt, depression,
Fused to their inverted states.
Writing, playing, painting is the ruse
To bring about those states.
Lying to shake off the cold;
Aspirin, coffee – anything’s allowed
That gets a hold on energy and focus.
Just to be there is a way to “Open Sesame!”
And though it is passivity,
At least passivity is presence.
Creativity needs presence, presence creativity.
Pardon the tautology,
But letting thinking flow
Is equal to what mankind knows,
What ancients knew eons ago.
Trite goes to trite, deep goes to deep,
Wise like the wise, the sleepy sleep:
Like goes to like.
We all have influence somewhere
On circles scarcely sensed.
You never know who’ll be the one.
The real law gets all things done.
Read, look, touch, smell, feel, listen:
Let in every oscillation.
You don’t know what word, what hush,
Which syllable will start the gush
Of art-filled spontaneity.
Everything is beauty
And a specimen of truth.
Secret is to see and use it,
Take it from the arcane sooth
To modern idiom and youth.
Inner order is the feature
Folding vision into creature;
Hidden secrets always there:
Rhythms not always transparent –
Inner order has its rhythm.
Skill belongs to those
Who, like the clogged up hose,
Wait for that drop to flow
Then flood, forcing new veins.

Tainted motives last awhile,
Purity runs the whole mile.

There’s a bank, the past before you –
Take that store to use and store.
We all start out a little fake, take
And work and wind up ‘true’. Work and wait.
Cyclic, shifting time is fate.
There is a product in the end
That says ‘I am’. And
Since you never step into
The same effluvial direction twice,
The product is as artist was:
A slice of now-ness,
Spliced with interweaving strands
Of overlapping chunks of texture,
Form and color: language wands
Of elegant expressiveness,
Personal
And universal.

©Creative Process 95.4.21
The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative; Definitely Didactic; Coffee Book;
Arlene Corwin

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