fear
Posted by William F. DeVault | Filed under Journal
I had a dream last night, in which I was sitting in an old cabin, a fire ablaze in the fireplace, the smell of cherry and pine filling the air. An old man who looked a lot like me, and sounded a lot like me, was laying by the fire and he said, offhandedly,
I have known more than one person who is so afraid of starving to death that they would eat garbage until they died of malnutrition.
And I thought to myself that this is just another manifestation of fear in this world.
Buddha taught that the essence of all suffering is desire and that we must learn to live above desire. I disagree, with all due respect to the Enlightened One. Fear is the cause of all suffering.
It is fear compounded with arrogance that makes evil. It is fear that leads us to stifle our hearts, our souls, our lives, out of a cold and clutching sense that our lives are beyond us and that we will not measure up to anything greater than a slightly eccentric mediocrity.
Fear is the root of all suffering. I am afraid of many things (despite Saint Thomas’ insistence) but most of all is I am afraid of being afraid, afraid of the sense of hopelessness, of despair, of inadequacy, that comes from being afraid.
When I was a young man I was fairly athletic. I recall once being at my Aunt Bernice’s farm and, having taken a short cut back to the house, needing to ford a small tributary of the creek that ran through her back yard. It was, at most, four feet across. I had jumped three, even four, times that width in Physical Education class, on a run. Even from a standing start, four feet was a distance to laugh at for me.
But I was afraid of landing in the water, which was cold and the creek bottom was slippery. So I stood there, tensing and uncoiling, tensing and uncoiling, until I launched myself…about 2-1/2 feet, landing just beyond the midway point with a splash.
I was so afraid of failure that I wouldn’t allow myself to succeed at something well within my reach.
Fear is the great disabler. Fear will drive us to die of malnutrition, not just of the flesh, but of the mind, the soul, the heart.
A dark and violent dream
Posted by William F. DeVault | Filed under Journal, Muses
I had a dark and violent dream the other night. I was a Vampire.
Not the immaterial, shapeless intelligent malevolence of "The Nosferatu’s Dream", but the classic Western vampire.
The dream was dark, violent, sexual and disturbing only in that my normal lucid dreaming safeguards did not kick in.
Or did they? Did I choose not to take control of the script as I was enjoying the beast being unleashed to feed? Or was I in control and allowing myself to do those things because I felt the need to bleed the fire of my veins and feed from another source?
Perhaps I have held on too tight for too long and it is time to remind myself of what the feeling of madness is. The amount of time I have spent without a true muse is a record for me, everyday is like waking up to be drawn and quartered.
I am hungry. In ways I have never known before.
dreams of a strange but charming week
Posted by William F. DeVault | Filed under Journal
I think I shall go out and get some sunshine. Those of you who know me, will understand. Those who don’t…don’t matter.
Strange dreams almost every night this week. Last night, I dreamt I went by my old high school to pick up my ex wife, who for some reason was a student again. I drove her to the apartment she and her mother were sharing, and we spoke obliquely of many things, I dropped her off and she invited me in, but in the construction going on, I lost her…the construction was odd, but in the context of the conversation I had just had with her, it made perfect sense. I think I answered some of my own questions, and thus gained resolution.
Earlier in the week, in another dream, a kiwi (the bird, not the fruit) was sighted in the front yard. I caught it by hand and brought in indoors, where it proceeded to explore the house with reckless curiosity. At length we came to an understanding. Again, I think it was a preconscious attempt at resolving some inner questions, I just have yet to figure out who or what the kiwi represented. I am predisposed to think it is Alisha, but it could be a new element (there is this certain young woman of my acquaintance…perhaps she is rising in my thoughts).
In any case, I need to look to my writings, edits and the show this weekend, if for no other reason than to take my mind off of Tuesday’s reading.
Bizarre conversation for the week: A friend asked me about a female acquaintance of mine, what I thought of her. I told him she was very nice, but had the unfortunate problem of being :::way::: too young for me. He looked at me like I was crazy and said "Wait for her birthday" in a matter of fact tone that told me he thinks I am looking at things way too seriously.
I have always taken matters of that sort very, very seriously. It is one of my greatest strengths and one of my greatest weaknesses. I am the Amomancer, after all.
Red fur, blue collars and arts all, folks!
Posted by William F. DeVault | Filed under Brigit, Dan McTaggart, Journal, News, The Compleat Panther Cycles, West Virginia, the Leopard
What a day…and it is only noontime here.
Spoke with people from both the Appalachian Education Initiative and Arts Monongahela this morning. Everything still seems on track and I will be working with ArtsMon in the next few days to start cycling up the local publicity on "The Morgantown Suite Poems". Should be fun!
Got some notes from Dan McTaggart, the blue collar poet who is writing one of the intros to "The Compleat Panther Cycles" for me. It is nice to know that people still squirm when they read the 10th cycle…it is erotically charged and very evocative.
And I spent a length of the morning in exchange with the other locked-in introduction writer for the CPCs…this name may mean nothing to you unless you are a regular reader of my poetry, or from the olden days…but
Brigit
has come out of retirement. Yes, the "Goddess of Fire and Poetry" and "the Crimson Panther" has resurfaced to write a rather brilliant introduction to the works. Although I can’t say enough about how "catty" some of her statements regarding her predecessor are. Such is life. Predatory felines will be predatory felines.
For those of you who missed her, Brigit is the unbroken totem-mask of the muse that immediately followed the original panther, and was only named that because of a dream I had, sometimes referred to as "the dream of the three panthers, dancing" wherein I was in a featureless room, hearing old-time carousel music… around me, floating above the floor and circling, were three identical panthers, one of ebony, one of crimson and one of gold. I was very perplexed…then the music stopped and all three smiled at me at once, as if to say that I had to make some sort of decision or take some sort of action…I hesitated…and the music started back up…I awoke feeling that my indecision would have dreadul consequences.
Many have later assigned the "golden panther" to "the leopard" my ex-wife Ann. An I have, to this point, accepted these three women, each unique in her own right, as the logical symbols of the dream…only time will tell, if even it breaks silence.
Anywho, it was a delight to spend some time in the company of someone who knows the process of creativity as well as Brigit does (not without purpose did I brand her "Goddess") as most people I have known seem to limit their knowledge of the arts to "Write me something." It gets tedious being a performing dog for people when they snap their fingers.
Anyway, Brigit stands of her own accord and I look forward to further collaborations with her. I am glad to have her back in my sphere.
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