“What I refer to, or point toward when I speak in these terms is the tender experience I see in each of us — in you — when something breaks through to your heart, inviting tears to begin to form in your eyes, and causes a warm sense of well-being or goodness to gently flood into your body. That very real, visceral and emotional experience is the only evidence I have of something that may very well issue initially from my thoughts but seems to go well beyond them into an intimate space that is hard to touch, like the sounds of the gongs. You can feel those vibrations and even describe them, but they are more than your descriptions and more than your sensory responses, and that is part of their beauty. Hence, the “embodied inconceivable.” That is no mystery. It is the longed for and treasured conversations we share, moving through our individual bodies and through the space our bodies make together. It is the forrest, the sky, the ocean and wind, and the entire contingent universe we find ourselves in — together. It is the awe and gratitude, the humility and sheer joy which spring up beyond everyday answers and ordinary knowability. It feels like love to me.”
~ Flint Sparks
For When People Ask
~ Rosemary Wahtola Trommer
I want a word that means
okay and not okay,
more than that: a word that means
devastated and stunned with joy.
I want the word that says
I feel it all all at once.
The heart is not like a songbird
singing only one note at a time,
more like a Tuvan throat singer
able to sing both a drone
and simultaneously
two or three harmonics high above it—
a sound, the Tuvans say,
that gives the impression
of wind swirling among rocks.
The heart understands swirl,
how the churning of opposite feelings
weaves through us like an insistent breeze
leads us wordlessly deeper into ourselves,
blesses us with paradox
so we might walk more openly
into this world so rife with devastation,
this world so ripe with joy.