Poetry and Shamanism [by Sharon Mesmer]

From Mircea Eliade: Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy ....

"It is ... probable that the pre-ecstatic euphoria [of shamans] constituted one of the universal sources of lyric poetry.  Poetic  creation still remains an act of perfect spiritual freedom.  Poetry remakes and prolongs language; every poetic language begins by being a secret language, that is, the creation of a personal universe, of a completely closed world.  The purest poetic act seems to re-create language from an inner experience that, like the ecstasy of the religious inspiration of 'primitives,' reveals the essence of things.  It is from such linguistic creations, made possible by pre-ecstatic 'inspiration,' that the 'secret languages' of the mystics and the traditional allegorical languages later crystallize . . . What a magnificent book remains to be written on the ecstatic 'sources' of epic and lyric poetry, on the prehistory of dramatic spectacles, and, in general, on the fabulous worlds discovered, explored and described by the ancient shamans . . . "

Penguin Arkana, 1989 /copyright Bollingen Foundation

Comments

[Edward Mycue]

for Alan and Eva Leveton and Victoria Mycue

DO I NEED A NEW STORY, VICTORIA

From many angles, points of viewing, the rainbow is there.
I always try to be a glass carnation of perceptions.
My niece Victoria says changing cannot be forced.

You have to be realistic about what you are seeing
trying to accept and understand even when not agreeing.

What makes all the colors in rainbows? I don’t live in the past.
The past lives on in me, many ways of seeing, many me’s.
I live in the now, but who am I? Stories, some, get highlighted.

I have to become realistic about what I am seeing.
Living now, who am I who am influenced by these stories.

From each viewing step, something is highlighted. And angle.
Some things are obscured when we focus elsewhere.
When what is love is damaged there can be anger, eruptions.

I am influenced by other people’s stories as other peoples do.
Others combine, collide, ally, curdle, become crazed in me.

Our grandparents’ blossoms. allegiances, angers can be we.
You have to be realistic about what you are seeing, she says,
trying to accept and understand even when not agreeing.

I’d asked if peace was possible, not “were” it possible.
I asked where’s a pulse for peace fearing there was none.

Eva and Al, dear friends, said peace—she wrote “pulse”—
is often hard to find and you had to keep feeling around,
gently. Then feel some more. Never give up on the double P.

Victoria, dear niece, says be realistic about your seeing,
trying accepting, understanding even when not agreeing.

Edward Mycue 29 November 2008