Shoreline Driftwood shares with its readers the unconventional insights of its author, Don Coorough, into current events, economics, politics, social activism, philosophy, mythology, psychology, neuroscience, the arts and culture, in addition to his poetry.
Monday, July 15, 2013
Under the Flowering Jacaranda
Monday, June 17, 2013
Somnolent Caterwauling
Thursday, July 12, 2012
By a Stream
over and between rocks and pebbles,
winds breeze and billow
their frolicking oscillations,
and soil nurtures life, providing
the stage's platform, and moments
inscribe hallucinations upon mirage.
A bird flutters from a tree limb
and delicately perches upon a rock
to sip cool refreshment.
Trout linger in eddies,
their watchful eyes scanning
for unsuspecting insects
to buzz within leaping range.
I sit in an inarticulate hush,
shaded by the broad-leafed arms
of a walnut tree, thawing
in the summer morning,
reverie soaring among the clouds,
polished by simplicity.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
The Last Door
Barely witnessing the last, tiny sliver
Of the moon wane into invisibility;
Palpitating with anticipation as Segovia
Demands absolute silence before plucking a note;
Trudging on, step after step, after exhaustion
Depletes the last ion of energy;
Driving at 3 a.m., still up from the previous 6 a.m.,
Yet unable to find a motel with a vacancy;
Fingers barely gripping handholds near the summit;
Sustaining the last note without taking a breath;
Weeping through dry eyes;
Sucking the last drop from a glass through a straw;
Anticipating the last wave's was upon the shore;
Deafened by light passing through the edges of the last door.
Imperceptibly Etching
cedar trunks whose roots
ache from thirst
but the leaves
flutter on branch fingers
as a slow breeze
inherits moisture
from an electric cloud
A red ant crawls
toward noon's tolling
boil weaving a sticky
trail to a rabbit
carcass already
picked clean by coyote
pups still shrilly howling
triumphantly charged glee
The first drops of blood
seep from the spreading
doe mule deer's vagina
bearing her first calf
The sun moves
imperceptibly etching
a golden arc on an azure arch
Tired hands roll
tortillas by a fire
where carne asada spits
and sizzles in a pan
Children's voltage squeals
escape from naked bodies
as they slither through
shaded stream banks
under the watchful
gaze of tomorrow's
red-tailed hawk
demanding from its nest
In the night where
no moon reigns Grandma
threads smokey fingers
through an old man's
dreams making tacos
for the little boy she
once knew and now sees
bouncing up the porch steps
Monday, October 31, 2011
Memories' Amber
light rains
from the solitary
every-star grains'
blanketed amusement
the constrained shining
all-in-one star's
perpetual light
I drink it up
to quench your thirst
You are my gift
All knotted up
indispensably untethered
your indivisibility severed
while crimson fractals
glistened individuated sparks
of memories' amber
from ancient seasons
when the unredeemed
schism fracture
birthed infinity
I-we lie
together
under the weeping willow
sorrow forgotten
stardust alive
looking through
tomorrow's eyes
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Up I Conjure Learning Inner Whole
Full of sour sweetened void.
In not lying you walk out
On me, giving getting off.
Now sew future summer past,
Here a humble stumble gone:
Live-in maid made furnace die
Black the grey, doom-bloom, bleached white.
Hush the instant droning sound!
Start to measure leisure's end.
Back when battles had no front
Sky cried coddled, cobbled ground.
Learning inner whole,
Creating game's transitional
Room doorway, talking.
Riding French questions,
Twilight columned writing
(Cross-nailed language):
Endless experience vehicle.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Without a Lighthouse
broadly disarms
the recalcitrant; while distant,
bright, wide eyes
capture the periphery
nakedly unaware.
Pastorally pristine
property pockets
pantomime, partially
premiering play's
partitioned preference.
Unrewarded redemption's
fog bank snares
without a lighthouse.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
A Rendezvous with Harmonic Symmetry
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Persephone
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Merging the Emotions with the Intellect
The Roman mythological tale of Amor and Psyche has many meanings because its symbolism can be interpreted on many different levels. The initial interest, which it piqued in me, came directly from the names of the mythological characters, Amor (better known by his Greek name, Eros) and Psyche (a Latin word meaning mind, and a mortal) and the interpretation of them according to Jungian principles.
Basically, the story entails the two falling in love, then being kept apart by Venus (in Greek mythology called Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, and Eros’ mother) because of acts of transgression committed by Psyche. Venus demands Psyche prove her worth through accomplishing a series of impossible tasks. However, Psyche is aided along the way (first by anthropomorphized nature – ants and a talking reed – later, by Zeus’ eagle), and each task is performed to Venus’ consternation. In the final task, Amor, himself, must come to Psyche’s aid and help her to complete it. As a result, Jupiter (Zeus in Greek mythology) blesses the two, unites them in marriage, and transforms Psyche from a mortal into an eternal and divine goddess.
In C. G. Jung’s psychological system, the term eros denoted the essential or primal foundation for feminine psychology. In Volume X of A Guided Tour of the Collected Works of C. G. Jung, Jung wrote, “Women’s psychology is founded on the principle of eros, the great binder and loosener, whereas from ancient times the ruling principle ascribed to men is logos. The concept of eros could be expressed in modern terms as psychic relatedness, and that of logos as objective interest” (255).
Here, Jung is suggesting that the feminine nature is more intuitive and more emotional, whereas the masculine nature is more intellectual and scientific. Now, I guarantee you one can find any number of 20th century feminists who would find fault with this kind of chauvinist stereotyping. I wouldn’t argue with them. Jung might reply that many women employ a masculine nature in getting through life while many men have learned to get in touch with their feminine side, and that he didn’t necessarily mean men and women, just masculine and feminine natures. Whether or not this is true, and ignoring for a moment the historical fact that over countless centuries, cultures all over the world, being male dominated, forced women into roles which would tend to reinforce those gender stereotypes, there is still value to be gained from looking at symbolism and metaphor through Jung’s prism. I suggest one replace the words feminine and masculine with receptive and active respectively if it alleviates the inference of gender biases and stereotypes.
If we look at the respective character roles, the man in the story (or the active principle) is named Eros while the woman (receptive principle) is named Psyche. In other words, the author of this tale has reversed the polarity of each character. This had to have been done for a reason, because even in an antiquity contemporaneous with the tale, the ideas Jung presented were already understood and held as valid. This means that the symbolism intended to infer the kind of bias Jung expressed centuries later. Consequently, it is as if the writer is calling Amor “she” and “her” throughout the narrative and Psyche “he” and “him.”
As we contemplate the narrative of events, Psyche is given numerous tasks to complete. That requires taking an active role. Meanwhile, Amor is kept by Venus in hiding, waiting to receive the love of Psyche if she earns the right to give him her love by accomplishing the tasks assigned to her. As a result, Psyche is held at bay from fruitfully enjoying the pleasures of a loving relationship with her beloved. Amor lies dormant and unfulfilled. Psyche is mortal, or human. Amor is divine, immortal and eternal.
The point the author is conveying in this is greater than the obvious one, that the wedding of mind to emotions is a symbol for bringing together the conscious mind and unconscious mind by bringing the unconscious to the surface where it can be examined by consciousness and demystified. Certainly, there is an element of that as one of the ideas the writer wished to convey in this myth. However, by reversing the roles, he hints at something more than just that.
What the myth really conveys is that each of us has an avenue to becoming a whole person. However, that avenue can only be found by actively engaging the antithesis of one’s nature, by transcending one’s typical role and natural inclinations, and ultimately, by activating all the latent potencies and harmonizing every aspect of one’s being into a unified, complete and cooperatively compatible synthesis of wholeness. In other words, when the woman activates and incorporates her masculine side and the man activates and incorporates his feminine side, then the two can come together and not only imagine an ideal future, but build that future out of their perfected souls.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Jung and Mythopoetic Thought
Carl G. Jung’s ideas concerning Mythopoetic Thought contain highly significant points for anyone interested in evolution, perceptions of reality and transcendent thought.
Jung suggested that in the mind of early humanity, people didn’t differentiate wholeness into the separate constituent elements we see today when looking at the physical world. In other words, the tree was not pulled out of the landscape by the perceiving consciousness and noticed as one of many separate things in the environment. Instead, everything in the environment was viewed as one complete and undividable entity. He suggested that to understand this conceptualization of the world, one must grasp how cause and effect has refined our perceptions of reality and helped us learn to differentiate separate and distinct physical objects out from the unity which was physical reality as early humans perceived it – an un-individuated whole.
First, people realized, for instance, that fire could provide heat for warmth, and light at night, as well as aid in warding off predators. Fire was also valuable for cooking one’s food, both to purify it (by killing germs, bacteria and parasites like tapeworms) and to make it taste better. This leap had to occur in early human reasoning as a necessary step for discovering the cause and effect relationship between things in the environment and the subtle interrelationship of interaction among and between those things in that environment (including people). Once the cause and effect relationship was discovered, the mind began to differentiate the unified whole of the environment into its constituent elements. Then, for instance, one could differentiate the dead branch which could be used as kindling to build a fire and then grasp it and use it for the intended purpose.
The stage of development prior to this differentiation of thought, the sense perception of the world as being all one big thing and not an amalgamation of many things, is what Jung called Mythopoetic Thought. Though one may think of it as a primordially primitive way of looking at the world, it may be far more accurate than the fragmented view we have of what is now commonly perceived and called the physical world.
Science tells us that the universe is composed of energy and matter. Einstein discovered that energy and matter are two sides of the same coin, meaning that when energy is slowed down below light speed, it condenses into matter while matter, when accelerated to light speed evaporates into energy in much the same way heat can turn water to steam or the lack of it can cool steam into water or even ice. Thus, matter and energy are the same thing, just vibrating at different frequencies, so to speak. Science also informs us that subatomic particles cannot be said to be anywhere. Rather, they are in constant motion at the speed of light, making them essentially everywhere at all times but nowhere ever.
This understanding allows us to imagine just how incorrect the contemporary view of physical reality is. Solidity is an illusion. Things seem solid only because of probability patterns. There is more space between the constituent subatomic particles in an atom than actual matter. The reason solid things do not let other solid things pass through them is because there is a probability that enough subatomic particles will line up to prevent the things from passing through each other, not because there is real stuff there that is impenetrable, but because there will probably be enough things lining up to make the solid things seem impenetrable.
If we are all striving to regain unity with Unity, as I believe, then one of the things we must learn to do is see the world as a Unity again, and not as separate pieces of marginally related objects whose relationship is based on cause and effect when the perception of cause and effect is, itself, a fabrication of the mind to make events fit into the manner in which the brain stores information. As one strives to see the unity of all things in order to reconnect with Unity, one discovers oneself step into a larger world: microcosmic and macrocosmic perceptions dissolve, differentiations between universal and personal wither away, and connection with a grand sense of the complete interconnection of all things and beings focuses from a blur into crystal clarity. This is known as transcendental perception.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Understanding Classical Greek Mythology and Its Avenues for Enlightenment
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
A Wasted, Stubborn Gaze
as their growing fingers span memories' bridge,
creeping across dandelionclock faces
that mark the consistent progress of seconds'
subconscious wile; while marijuana's wasted,
stubborn gaze persists in calculating odds:
seeping seeds spend evolution underground.
Childlike drifting fascination, feathers
leaf through the creole backstreets of Mardi Gras
revelry under ash blackened foreheads, dreams
squander faintly demented marching brigades'
bound captives; coffin gagged, violence resistent
bodhisattvas' sing supine supplication -
winding a forest carpet, silent, sublime.
A baby's fingers clutch for mother's wet breasts
sucking air from imaginary nipples,
insistent TV ads intercede, "Suckle
from culture's commercial, corporate illusion."
The contemporary model of nature:
mother's too busy to care for baby's needs;
dripping seeds melt, heat seared on the rocky dust.
Gazes turn to the wind, a blowing bellows,
a roaring, raging inferno of frothing,
rabid dogs carving out the latest fashion,
erecting statues of glorification,
their gleaming eyes slobber with gluttonous glee;
just out of sight, in the seedy underground,
a wasted, stubborn gaze breeds revolution.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Moonset Sunrise
swims through night's celestial ink
arcing a path from crag
to mesa - jutting up to wall off
a desert expanse. The ancients
chanted many names:
Hecate, Diana, Ishtar,
Artemis, Europa;
still, this hour
a bell tower struck
Selene's chimes, tolling
an approach: winding
to her abode in Mount
Latmus' cave. Silvery
light yellowed, Selene
sank into the muggy
morning monsoon
clouds, drifting aimlessly.
Her fullness strummed
descending, peek-a-boo
moon chords, magnetic
Selene attracted dense,
wetly drenched dark
condensation, she winked
light rays on and off,
diffusing heat in a blink,
melting diaphanous
wisps into clear, dry
skies. Skin sponged
the night's persperation.
Behind the crag facing
the mesa, Eos' orange
wash, from pastel
to burnt sienna, crayons
the dawn as Helios bleaches
the inky dome, erasing
shimmering stars -
Jupiter and Venus stand
as twin sentinels, balancing
opportunity with beauty
and justice; the first rays
of sun sliver over
the edge of the world.
My body stood, trapped -
the poles of two magnets
charged by the haunting
voice of Jim Morrison,
gulping the tequila worm
at the bottom of a bottle,
laughing bloody phlegm out
from his lungs, pulling
the tails off lizards, wizards
churning out incantations
of cheap pop crap; and winds
swirl up a twister, blistering
across synaptic highways
as I reach out from darkness
finding light slips through
my fingers, and lightning
bolts magically charge
the ions of a new world
only found in the dove-
tailed resin of a joint
smiling from the street
corners of a One World
popular rally, six billion
strong marching across
corporate plasma TV
screens in the instant
between moonset and sunrise.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Unfettered by Attachments
Thursday, July 16, 2009
In the Still, Night Sky
Friday, May 15, 2009
Behind the Garden Wall
in an alcove, beside a solitary
rose bush, a single bud
blooming on the stem.
I sip from a crystal chalice -
only a few droplets, blood
red, wetly stain my tongue
and lips with yesterday.
A rill winds around,
bending between footsteps'
markings left in the dust
as dusk shrouds around.
A full moon climbs stairsteps
leading up to a purple night:
awakening me with a stark,
chilling breeze, fluttering.
A hush gasps fragrantly,
grasping the thornless stem
with intuitive fingers,
caressing my luminous flesh.
I emerge from a cocoon,
the chrysalis falls away,
as wings spread and tremble
my heart beyond tomorrow.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Without Boundaries
fleecy drifts of snow across a blank
horizon within an eternal lull
as I diffuse into crumb specks
staining an icy surface like a bleached
subatomic drip of dark matter.
Caution flies in the face of winds
that silently howl, weightlessly,
through the infinite night.
I'm riding the turbulent face
of one continuous, cresting wave
without a board, walking
on a pipeline tube -
a swirling, electromagnetic
curl - way out in the distance,
beyond the last buoy in the space
just past time's horizon.
Each and every memory
I ever invented or detained,
every sensation-condensed
fantasy I imagined out
from the nether underworld,
each passionate instant
I grasped and tasted, every
gleaming breath I gulped
erupts in 3-D across
eternity's unedited and
uncensored theater screen.
Entranced, I watch my reels
intermingle with the incomprehensible
universal totality, spontaneously
splicing together in sporadic fits
of unexpected discrimination.
I melt into the walls of certainty
from the bottom of a waterless
ocean and it feels almost like I
am drowning; or being sucked
up by a giant vacuum cleaner.
Until, in a sudden flash,
an explosion of every color,
every taste, every smell,
every emotion, the gamut
of all sounds and melodies,
and every sensation,
from the most intense
pain to the greatest ecstasy,
washes over my mind and
I lose all sense of myself,
of any self, of anything
at all, and the consuming
awareness of everything-
become-one, without boundaries,
but just the sheer weight
of totality, Allness floods
into me as I seep into it.
In the unifying moment,
the complete understanding
and harmony in the cohesive
integrity of coalescence
makes perfect sense.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Rarely Tapped Corridors
darkly in a cave, illuminated haphazardly
by a single candle's furtive flickering
licks of light, floats harmoniously,
like a shuttlecock, blithely rambling
a nonsensical contrapuntal interjection
in the conversation shared by wave
and shore. A furtively flitting firefly
careens in the moist evening air,
sporadically blinking its luminescent,
arboreal beacon encoding recalcitrant
themes injected onto the common epistles'
veins, coursing through the dramatis personae
occupying life's succulent stage. Fascinations
fastidously fasten wholistic hermetic caprices
courageously, contemplating uncommon
theses shared by the finely-tuned,
prankster-experienced experimenters
whose acidicly altered electromagnetic
fields overlapped rarely tapped corridors
through the universally sublime fabric.
Calloused fingertips flit across
Jerry Garcia's fretboard, missing
no fingers at all, delivering mantras
to life's moonlight sonata. Caressing
the underbelly of an expectant supplicant,
teasing undulations of cozmic proportions
calculate the astonished agitation
which adulations' arrogance accumulates.
Zapping a voltaic, synaptic pathway,
marginal, mocking Meanderthals
congregate in solipstic quicksand,
while intuitive shuttlecock trails
etch irridescent, glowing patterns
through our rarely tapped corridors.