what music are you listening to now

[Dekalb_Blues]

herald --  Q: ".... a simorgh?"'

Hello, Herald, I'm glad you found my post's contents of interest. A: Yes. And, as well, a beautifully-executed symbolic depiction of the enigma that is superorganism -- or as Ra calls a certain form of it, social memory complex...  the Sufi dervishes have a technical term, 'jam ("concentration", "the state of being gathered" or "collected")  for a certain relatively "mystical" melding of balanced, sovereign individuals (who are all on the same spiritual page in an essential way... birds of a feather, don't you know!) into a synergistic co-creative group entity under expert direction, for purposes of expedited guided evolution. Certain kinds of human groupings need skilled outside assemblers and arrangers, who then set the group in buzzing blooming self-regulating motion according to its own existential logic, trusting that crucial emergent qualities of serene sentience will spontaneously organically arise in a way that will benefit all. At any rate, it's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, and keeps the Seekers off the streets, where they might scare the horses. The term "jamming" was much later taken up by Western jazz musicians (and later, perhaps most famously, by Bob Marley) to describe freely-flowing, in-the-groovily spontaneous-improvisational ensemble playing; is it any wonder that the most vibrantly alive music is made in such a way?



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YuQ2FWGnGrc


(Of course, not everybody's with the avian program:

 )

The same kind of e-pluribus-unum surreal-mélange thing has traditionally been done with the figure of the elephant, another symbol of the Sufi Way:

  Shades of Arcimboldo! http://jamestownelementaryartblog.blogsp...fruit.html

Related to this mysterious pachyderm in a sort of inside-out way is the Sufi teaching-story of the "Blind Men and the Elephant"...






Hope is the thing with feathers

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

--Emily Dickinson [1830 - 1886]


Thought-Bird Song [translated from the Sumari]

The birds outside my window
Are your thoughts sent to me
They come flying; fledglings.
I feed them bread crumbs
So they do not go hungry,
Then they perch on the tree branch
With beaks open, singing:

We come from the nest
Of yesterday and tomorrow.
God bless our journey.
We have flown from the inside
To the outside
World of your knowledge.
The cage door is wide open.
We burst out singing.
We fill all the treetops.
Splendid and glowing.
Tiny as tree bells
We dance on the tree branches
Night and day always.
Listen to us. Feed us.
We are your thoughts winging
Out of the nest of the birth-cage
Into summer and winter.
We perch on the branches
Of the minutes and seconds.
Our song is your heartbeat.
We move with your pulses.
You send us out perfect and shining,
Each living and different
To populate your kingdom.
We sing outside your window
And line up on the rooftops.
Separate and knowing
We peer through the branches,
Surveying the inner
Land of enchantment,
The skyless and timeless
World of our birth.

We fly from our perches
Back and forth to our first nest,
Vanishing inside
The cage of your head,
Then we fly out again
And sing at your window
While you feed us bread crumbs
From your hand.

-- Jane Roberts [1929-1984] http://www.paulhelfrich.com/essays/thought-bird-song/









http://www.writing.upenn.edu/~afilreis/8...3ways.html

  From days of old, keeping a sharp eye on things from high aloft.

 On the job.