first friday of november 3, 2006 11.42
the flash that reveals damiel at the top; i think i should be writing in my notebook. standing. perhaps the action is to write the last letter and the period and then close the book. put away the pen. all in the flash.
why do i say this first poem? the notebook, as the one prop must take on greater significance. our treatment of it, fuller. we had a fruitful rehearsal last night. mark, ola and i. lasted from 20:30 until 1:30.
included two bottles of wine and luscious syrian food. such kindness. ola and her mom. and kit kats.
i believe we discovered a lot. this theme emerged; contemplation vs. action. conflict of sacred duty.
damiel, truly is at this arjuna point. this is so much like the bhagavad gita. the play occupies that space between two worlds. the transition point. that decision point. (i must watch matrix soon.) both cassiel and damiel wanting to do God’s will. wanting to serve the light. wanting to be effective messengers of the light. damiel no longer feeling effective. questioning. truly at a crisis point. a huge and scary crisis point. so wanting to do the right thing. so wanting to follow the deepest calling. now the calling toward human love. to the miraculous beauty of sensation. aliveness. needing wings of desire.
does damiel want cassiel to come with him? or is this something he knows he must do alone? the awful necessary good-bye. to give up love in the service of love. cohen’s “villanelle for our time” “bitter searchings of the heart.”
the evolution of the argument of these two eternal friends, from scene to scene, during our play. wanting cassiel to understand, to approve, to accompany, to bless, to change my mind, to encourage me, to stop me? all of these things and at different times, different things. all these colors. all of these always present. everything always. (this is eternity) “everybody knows this is nowhere”
damiel opens himself to the risk of love. and then marion flies in with a flamenco soundtrack. love rushes in.
“it’s just an invitation to the blues”
we must do our duty. we must be messengers of the good news. messengers of the light. damiel now senses that he needs a body to do this. human love is the answer.
“two roads diverged in the wood. . .”
the aliveness of the choice.
i must get my merton book CONTEMPLATION VS. ACTION from arthea’s garage. bring it to boston
the depths of this play still to be discovered. miles to go before we sleep.
like ola was saying last night. we must now work differently. we must work in a way that makes room for the angels to show up. to accompany us. to guide us. we must get the fuck out of their way. we must stop the behavior that is keeping them at bay. it is up to all of us to do this. invite them in earnestly. we must decrease, so they may increase.
there’s been way too much willfullness in the room to this point. the work is begging like a child to be listened to and fed. loved into existence. with joy and abandon.
the seeming madness of damiel once human. soul madness. the new human with the freedom of a child. to capture the innocence. to capture the innocence. no no no. not capture it. to let it be. will damiel in boston have a beard or not.
perhaps the journey once damiel is human is toward wildness, homeless abandon until he meets marion. then he wants to take a bath. look good. smell good. to be pleasing. to go from neanderthal to homo sapien. this final stage of an angel becoming a man.
mark helped greatly to make clear the history scene. he unified it. brought it together. tied it tight to the through line of the play. this play, each night, must take place in an atmosphere of gathering upheaval. incari. that moment when the world eagerly awaits being turned upside down. an atmosphere of revolution. an atmosphere of catastrophic earthquake. the breaking point.
“now or never” repent and convert.
“let us go then you and i. . .”
“streets that follow like a tedious argument
of insidious intent
to lead you to an OVERWHELMING QUESTION. . .
oh, do not ask, “what is it?’
let us go and make our visit.
in the room the women come and go
talking of michelangelo.”
“and indeed there will be time.”
“there will be time, there will be time
to prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
there will be time to murder and create,
and time for all the works and days of hands
that lift and drop a question on your plate;
time for you and time for me,
and time yet for a hundred indecisions,
and for a hundred visions and revisions,
before the taking of a toast and tea.”
“DO I DARE
DISTURB THE UNIVERSE?
in a minute there is time
for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.”
“i should have been a pair of ragged claws
scuttling across the floors of silent seas.”
“should i, after tea and cakes and ices,
have the strength to force the moment to it’s crisis?
but though i have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
though i have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
i am no prophet–and here’s no great matter;
i have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
i have seen the eternal footman hold my coat, and snicker,
and in short, i was afraid.”
“would it have been worth while
to have bitten off the matter with a smile,
to have squeezed the universe into a ball
to roll it towards some overwhelming question,
to say:’i am lazarus, come from the dead,
come back to tell you all, i shall tell you
in a television poll in 2004 pim fortuyn was named the greatest figure in dutch history. ahead of rembrandt, vincent van gogh, spinoza, erasmus, fred goessons. something’s rotten in the state of denmark.
holland is the same as denmark, right?
i love my work.