Juan Ramon Jimenez

Is it I who walks tonight in my room, or is it the beggar who was prowling in my garden at nightfall?
I look around and find that everything is the same and it is not the same
Was the window open?
Had I not already fallen asleep?
Was not the garden pale green?
The sky is clear and blue
And there are clouds and it is windy
and the garden is dark and gloomy
I think that my hair was black
And I was dressed in grey
And my hair is grey
and I am wearing black
Was this my gait?
Does this voice, which now resounds in me,
have the rhythms of the voice I used to have?
Or am I the beggar who was prowling in my garden at nightfall?
I look around
There are clouds and it is windy
And the garden is dark and gloomy
I come and go
Is it not true that I had already fallen asleep?
My hair is grey
And everything is the same and it is not the same.


A poem by Juan Ramon Jimenez.
I do not know the title, English or Spanish, at this time

The wind and the hedge

 

Scouring the heath in violent sudden gusts, the wind almost knocked him over. He pulled down on the brim of his hat and leaned forward to gain the hedgerow path. As he turned to move down the slope he felt the cold air striking his gaunt cheek and aged body.
And then the hedgerow was upon him.

Taking him into its folds and highways. Impenetrable dens, points of light, small movements. 

The air was still, by the hedge. A smaller and milder weather, down the side of the heath, hard on the hedge line until reaching the shelter of the woods. The hedge breathed. Its thickets and brambles scoffed at the wind. Stillness and calm poured from its depths.

In the wood, the trees moaned and swayed. The shadows lengthened as night began to fall, and the moving trees spoke of their anguish. Power was flowing through the river into the ground. Bursts of incandescent energy struck his hands and face as the rain swept across the path.

He saw his walking. He could tarry in a sheltered place he knew, but the omens were against it. Stalking through the woods is dangerous because communion with spiritual power will lead to self annihilation, when done properly.

When will the spirit strike her?

 

She glared at me when I asked to put a record on. She didn't like being told what to do, but she acquiesced, as usual.

- so what record do you want to hear?

she asked, labouring the words "you" and "want", to work in a little contempt.

We were just housemates, on the face of it, but I couldn't resist teasing her. She was, after all, nicely put together and the matter hadn't escaped my eyes. 

- Well, you can put on any record you please. As for me, I want to hear Eye in the Sky by the Alan Parsons Project, but it can wait...

She moved to the covered side of the deck and soon the airy tones of Sirius were floating through the space,  the deep bass oozing from the big speakers like butter.

It's always a source of pleasure to see a woman do my bidding, an inflow of power, satisfaction and sexual energy.
.
Siobhan sat carefully on the opposite sofa, tucking her left leg under her thigh, as the men often did, although she was almost certainly unaware of the true reason for that position.

She was mimicking, but she was also naturally at ease: she was relaxed in her body, but she was indolent and heavy.

I knew, as a man and a seer, I could help her break her bondage of indulgence and importance, which are just castles in the air, as with us all.

But it's a dangerous venture and it could fail. So I'm waiting. Stalking actually, but only in the spirit realm. To stalk a spirit means to hook it with the intent, to see if it will become an ally or an adversary in the realm of the spirit.

There was a knock at the door. 

I opened up to find Dougal and Lloyd shuffling on the deck.
They'd joined the group a few years ago, but they were staying with Dino, in his big old seaside house.
They used to stay up here on the hillside, but they both preferred the energy of the beach and city to the quiet of my place.

...I am the eye in the sky
Looking at you
I can read your mind
I am the maker of rules
Dealing with fools
I can cheat you blind...

Dougal sat down beside Siobhan, but on the edge of the sofa with his spine erect. Lloyd slouched comfortably into the sofa to my left.

- so what's I hear about all these good-looking chicks in town? 

asked Dougal, with a hint of mischief in his tone.

A group of four or five women had just rented a big old house on the avenue... with no men around

We all laughed together but Siobhan said nothing and just went off towards the kitchen.

Lloyd asked around with gestures and then called after her to make some coffee for all, but there was no answer.

We looked at one and other and the same thought seemed to enter our minds together. Lloyd started laughing and soon me and Dougal joined in.

It was a private joke, because the strategy we had agreed upon was to ignore Siobhan's very good looks and charm entirely, and ask her to do menial jobs around the house to pay for her keep.
She believed she was in danger from an enraged and violent ex husband, and I had agreed to provide a safe haven only if she would swear to remain within the boundaries of the property at all times. She knew no one would disturb us, even if her location were known, because mischievous people do rightly fear gypsies, seers and sorcerers... everybody knows that.

She had never had to face this kind of rejection in her life. She became angry and assumed we were playing a trick on her, but we were well rehearsed in our parts so doubt began to seep in. Lacking all external validation of her beauty would ultimately lead to a shift in her assemblage point... the place where our worldview is assembled.

In most people it remains fixed and shifts only in times of great trauma, emotion, birth and death. But sorcerers discovered long ago that it can be moved at will by taking specific actions and pursuing careful paths of intent.

Her rejection as a princess was to become a portal on the path of enlightenment. It could happen in an instant, but it might take years to pass through.
I didn't have years at my disposal, so I needed to work fast.

Who can say when and where the spirit will roam?