Naming the unnamable

In Odin's 22nd of 2023's February mailbox . . . a leftover from yesterday:

I feel regular blasts of grief and rage because of the fact that older white men have run so much of the world for so long.

I’m not exaggerating. For me, it’s personal. Their manic grip on power, their profound and catastrophic misogyny, elicit more suffering in my deep psyche than any other predicament I encounter.

I know we can’t instantly heal and correct for the damage of this debilitating imbalance. But I think it’s reasonable to expect and predict that over the course of the next thirty years, women of all races will indeed come to wield at least 51 percent of the power in the world. – Rob Brezsney.

Myself, I share Rob's sentiments and am joining Sophie Strand in raising a call for a shift in our Weltanschauung to a more inclusive perspective. This requires a re-evaluation of both “The Divine Feminine” and “The Sacred Masculine.” Both insist on humans being identified in terms of gender – a myopic view at best – divisive in the absolute. We are not nouns, but verbs – as recognized by Buckminster Fuller, as long ago as 53 years ago. Like Ms. Strand, I'm not suggesting we throw our babies out with the bath, but to recognize their inclusive rather than exclusive nature. “Yin is the mother of the 10,000 things;” things – the “named” – being the preoccupation of Yang, while both arise mutually.

Words are the swords our cognitive preoccupation uses to divide up the world into the parts we then attempt to reconstruct into wholes. So, forgive my languaged attempt to reconstruct for you my poetic experiences: What some have named “the muse” I experience in silence, almost as a whisper in the dark, but with an invitation to listen and translate. “She” doesn't speak, nor insist, rather I follow her long-ago suggestion to name her “Hiram” after my poet and railroad conductor grandfather. If the poem doesn't come “allatonce,” she assists my editing with a gentle guidance..

Tao Te Ching - Lao Tzu - chapter 25

Something mysteriously formed,
Born before heaven and earth.
In the silence and the void,
Standing alone and unchanging,
Ever present and in motion.
Perhaps it is the mother of ten thousand things.
I do not know its name.