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Mrs Morrison's Hotel
(She's Right, You Know!)
Rejoice, Rejoice 
30th-Sep-2011 12:56 am
olean hills
I guess it was because of Rosh Ha’shanah that I got to thinking of that really neat Israeli-gospel-folk-rock I downloaded the other day, but I was playing it earlier on the iPod, and bouncing and clapping to it as I sat here working because it is just that kind of music, and then the wind started streaming in over my shoulder and blowing my hair around, and it was a northwest wind with its charged-up ions and everything and that always charges me up even more.

But it all seemed somehow of a piece, and it sent my mood up to one of those toweringly exultant moments when you are so glad of the joy of creation, and Creation, that you just want to get up and fling back your head and dance with the world, and dance love to the world. I am exalted by those moments when they come: you can put yourself in the way of them, and even teach yourself to reach them at will, but you can’t really plan for them, they just happen for you. And they are more wonderful by far when they just come like that, out of nowhere, like a great wind out of Aldebaran.

And it doesn’t matter if you’re a Jew or a Christian or a Pagan or whatever, the joy all comes from the same place, the same Power. And everything you do becomes prayer and praise to that Power, and you can call the Power Adonai or the Goddess, or even not believe in it at all, but it is the real and undivided Power no matter what people think. And people are foolish to try to separate it out the way they do, or to deny it, to selfishly hug their little crumbs of it to themselves when really they could have the whole cake if only they tried sharing for once.

I often start thinking like this around this time of the year, as the sun heads south again and the days begin to draw in and the air gets chilly and the leaves start to turn. It fills me with joy that never grows old or any the lesser, because I know that it will always be there and always be like that.

Because it’s work that does it for me also. I am so lucky to have an art that is at my fingertips, as a dear friend reminded me recently. Her own art requires other people for its fulfillment, and she was thinking wistfully that it would be nice not to have to rely on the whim and will of others before she can perform it. I don’t have to worry about that. Sure, I like to have readers, and the more the better, and the smarter the better. But I would write even if I didn’t. I don’t write for them, or even for me, or even for Jim, or even for my gods, though all those certainly figure into it. I write for the Power. I write for Creation.

And it’s THAT that makes me want to dance. You come dance too.
30th-Sep-2011 06:54 am (UTC)
The Awen! I made the same point about art that can be done without performance to the writing groups this week. We're very lucky.
30th-Sep-2011 05:51 pm (UTC)
It IS the Awen...or the Force, or the Big Good Thing of "The Secret Garden". Whatever you want to call it. And yes, as writers we are very lucky indeed. So many arts depend on ours before they can happen, and our words can inspire many more as well...

Two passages from "The Secret Garden":

"That morning when you ran in and said `It's come! It's come!, you made me feel quite queer. It sounded as if things were coming with a great procession and big bursts and wafts of music. I've a picture like it in one of my books -- crowds of lovely people and children with garlands and branches with blossoms on them, everyone laughing and dancing and crowding and playing on pipes. That was why I said, `Perhaps we shall hear golden trumpets' and told you to throw open the window."
"How funny!" said Mary. "That's really just what it feels like. And if all the flowers and leaves and green things and birds and wild creatures danced past at once, what a crowd it would be! I'm sure they'd dance and sing and flute and that would be the wafts of music."
They both laughed but it was not because the idea was laughable but because they both so liked it.

And this, later in the book:

"Do you believe in Magic?" asked Colin after he had explained about Indian fakirs. "I do hope you do."
"That I do, lad," she answered. "I never knowed it by that name but what does th' name matter? I warrant they call it a different name i' France an' a different one i' Germany. Th' same thing as set th' seeds swellin' an' th' sun shinin' made thee a well lad an' it's th' Good Thing. It isn't like us poor fools as think it matters if us is called out of our names. Th' Big Good Thing doesn't stop to worrit, bless thee. It goes on makin' worlds by th' million -- worlds like us. Never thee stop believin' in th' Big Good Thing an' knowin' th' world's full of it -- an' call it what tha' likes. Tha' wert singin' to it when I come into th' garden."
"I felt so joyful," said Colin, opening his beautiful strange eyes at her. "Suddenly I felt how different I was -- how strong my arms and legs were, you know -- and how I could dig and stand -- and I jumped up and wanted to shout out something to anything that would listen."
"Th' Magic listened when tha' sung th' Doxology. It would ha' listened to anything tha'd sung. It was th' joy that mattered. Eh! lad, lad -- what's names to th' Joy Maker," and she gave his shoulders a quick soft pat again.

30th-Sep-2011 02:10 pm (UTC)
That was beautiful. And so true. Thank you for sharing that moment!
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