It is not enough to be a glorious and grand host
For when my guests have eaten their fill and sung their songs
Their minds often turn to diversion and intrigue
Each competing for my favor and my attentions

And so it was with a simple game, a jest in fact
The idea that any perfection could be compared to another
and that the immutable primal being of the gods could be judged
by the standards of a looking glass is a comedy for all time.

A full belly and empty amphora is not an ill wish for a man
a state of bliss unto itself, with the mind free
of the chains of order, the shackles of manners
and the leash of law ever pulling on the larynx

For when the flames flicker dim, who wishes to feel
the sting of cold's dagger, or the the wind's salted scourge?
Drink! For the amphorae are full and it will only be the sun
which provides the toil and the song to find more

And when the men have finished their beating of chests
when they have sated their desire for wrangling
and have divided up the spoils
They leave only the blame upon the table.

That blame is to be assigned to me.
I, the whole source of the matter, they claim.
They say that the war would not have occurred
save for the vanity of goddesses

Chanting as a contemplative practice naturally draws our focus to the present and embodied presence. The very physical act of breathing and forming sounds brings body and mind together. Chant has a place in many sacred traditions, from Gregorian melodies to Native American drumming to the polyrhythmic chants of West Africa. There are as many ways to chant as there are bodies and vocal cords. You may enjoy exploring different kinds of chant, or even creating your own, as a way of entering into contemplation.

Perhaps the simplest, most familiar chant is “Om.” In the Hindu tradition, Om is the original and basic vibration of the created world, the sound that holds all other sounds, the unity that embraces all diversity. The mantra is also called pranava in Sanskrit, meaning it infuses all of life and fills our prana, breath. Om represents the fullness of reality and encompasses all things; it has no beginning and no end.

You might practice chanting this single syllable alone or in a group, from five minutes to more than twenty, followed by a time of silence. Begin by sitting tall and straight so you can breathe deeply. Inhale, and on your exhalation, vocalize the three sounds of Om, AUM, on a single tone. Feel the sound moving upward with your breath: beginning in the bottom of your belly—aah; moving to your chest—ooh; vibrating your lips and nasal cavity—mm. Take another deep breath, and sing AUM again, slowly shaping the vowels and gently closing your mouth to a hum.

If you prefer, you can simply hum for as long as you’re able, lips barely touching and teeth apart, before breathing in and humming again.

Repeat the chant as many times as you wish, letting all other thoughts and sensations disappear. If you are distracted, return your focus to breath and sound and the way it feels in your body. When you are ready, let the chant subside into silence.

Sit-a-while
on swinging porch
where tin-dippers and
sweet water
in cool touches
meet lips
from hand dug wells.

Good morning good people!

One turn, unexpected,
volcanoes erupt

Think of the holy and enshrined, within the imposing halls,
imagine not the proud edifice, nor the beatified profiles,
Conduits as they are for the idea. That solitary belief,
no matter the derision of the cynic, sans the gilding of the ages.

Electron's Mate

Tides gripping feet
in Istanbul's pollution
dash meets night

long in sight, poison grew

cue

born of Jane

vinging pleasures

in Botticelli

never rubbing Buddha's belly

selling radio

fox hides and

jelly

grabbing angels

opulentus

If Clytemnestra knew?

Sucking corn of g m o's

stalking immigrants to go

protons sinking