lowliness of water
by a hut in the oaxaca mountains
from a certain irregular mystic
to a small gathering of zapotec elders
the following message:
***note the semi-bizarre influence-mixture of
the T. gospel, Rimbaud, and Lao Tzu–
(frank parmer snider)
Once there was a rich man who said to himself, ” I will sow and plant and reap. And fill my barns with fruit that I may have need of nothing.” These were the thoughts in his heart. And in that night he died. He that hath ears let him hear. (fr. Thomas gospel)
There has arisen among the myriad entities a forlorn yet wondous particle. But nothing abounds for death is nothing. Yet that rich man died.
Impossible it is that there is absolute location, likewise there is no difference between stillness and motion; no difference between life and non-life; no difference between something and nothing. And there is no death. Yet that man died. Do you sense the danger?
Mitla (including the mystical mountains there-with) is not a country; it is not a subcontinent. Mitla is much more. The edges of the hills fold up into the aether where one looks sideways at the moon, where one can glimpse that blue crystal pool of water by the Mitla San Pablo church.
Mystical turquoise vowels cleanse my being: “O bleu… l Omega rayon violet de Ses Yeux!” A. R.
Water seeks the lowest place where no one would want to go. Water asks for nothing. Rather it gives life to the multitudes. Come closer to this crystal stillness. Sit at the edge. Water gives all–it will never die. Grab hold of that quiet blueness. I am crying now. Can you hear me? Sorrow and beauty overwhelm my being! Slide under that Mitla-soft-blueness. Slip under the water pool. Weaker than the weak. Lower than the low. Beneath the pure stillness you live! Now look up! Maybe that’s the sky!
Tags: Mali, Oaxaca, Mexico
parmer