On Friday, I decided to go visit this place, or sanctuary, called Bok Tower. They call it the singing tower, and it is aptly named. You are not allowed into this phallic cathedral, but I decided that, compared to the outside, the inside is probably quite prosaic. It is a glory of architecture, Phoebes. The stone walls are milky pink/peach swirl. At the top are stone creatures with bodies of men but heads of some sort of bird. They have a few balconies that freckle the tower, which one can only dream of getting to stand on. One balcony has an inconspicuous red door that just begs to be touched, analyzed, and opened. It stands high above, mocking my desires. Do I feel a metaphor coming on?
The windows are not glass; they are more like glazed pottery, with cutouts of monkeys, palm trees, Adam and Eve, and any other random biblical/tropical idea you can think of put together.
The ultimate, though, and the reason I stared at the damn thing for a half an hour, is the gold-plated brass door located at the bottom of the tower. The door is in the shape of an arch. And it looks like they placed a gold quilt on it. There are picturesque scenes in each square, which I could not identify. But I was beyond mesmerized. I felt like I had just stepped into Narnia and that door led to Aslan. The door knob was of a bird’s head, and it held a heavy golden ring in its mouth. I so desperately wanted to touch it, to almost caress it, to know it, as if, behind its strong purpose, sat all the answers. I feel I shall forever be haunted by that door. I feel I will see it my dreams, and its magic and mystery will forever pulse through my veins.
To top it all off, I was not only feeling mystical, but I was hearing haughty music vibrating from the tower, which it is designed to do, but the music only added to putting me into a cathartic peace.
It was a cloudy, warm day, and the wind blew and whispered at me. For the two hours, I was there, in this plant sanctuary that is exposed daily to the vibrating meditations and the mesmerizing power of the tower when I, too, realized I had become hypnotized. I felt the peace echoing through every inch of the place and saying, “The peace is within you; I am not the peace…it is in you.”
I continued to wander around the gardens in my omnipotent state. I let the divinity within blossom in the sunlight of the tower, and I soaked up the musical vibrations like water to the soul. I was the plants, I was the peace, and I was the omniscient knowledge that would not cease. I am not apt to say that a place has power over one’s emotions or a place defines your state, but, through experience, one cannot deny that some places evoke poignant feelings. Perhaps it is a little of both, the state I am in and the state the place is in, that combine to create this melody of moods. Never knowing where it started or where it ends. Never knowing if I am my own placebo and that, by being in a place that I subconsciously know should make me feel that way, this creates the feeling. Then, is the peace within subconsciously projected and hence outwardly re-projected back onto myself? This might be a good time for one of my favorite sayings: "The world is a reflection of yourself." Now this seems to be more relevant than ever. It almost seems like a game, to be aware of the places that move you to a higher state and wonder why you would ever leave them for the places that evoke subconscious feelings of disgust. But I cannot believe that. There is beauty everywhere. Everywhere! Perhaps it is the belief that stems from me that a place is not beautiful. I choose not to be in a state of peace all the time because I choose to perceive my world not in a state of peace. But therein lies the truth, for the world is always at peace. It is only I who can create a state of disdain. Only I can create.
Would one want to create beauty all the time? Or is there a balance in believing in ugliness and beauty? Would I become jaded and soon beauty itself would become ugly? It seems I ask questions to which the answers are irrelevant. Why even worry about it? Perhaps I am making it more complicated than it needs to be. You like some places, and you don't like others. Some days you feel good, and some days you feel bad. Put the two together and you have a state of being. The rest is a circle of thought, about which there is no point to seek the end, for there isn't one. It's a circle, you dumbass!
Ramble, ramble, ramble…I hope I have confused you as much I have confused myself.
It was a cloudy, warm day, and the wind blew and whispered at me. For the two hours, I was there, in this plant sanctuary that is exposed daily to the vibrating meditations and the mesmerizing power of the tower when I, too, realized I had become hypnotized. I felt the peace echoing through every inch of the place and saying, “The peace is within you; I am not the peace…it is in you.”
I continued to wander around the gardens in my omnipotent state. I let the divinity within blossom in the sunlight of the tower, and I soaked up the musical vibrations like water to the soul. I was the plants, I was the peace, and I was the omniscient knowledge that would not cease. I am not apt to say that a place has power over one’s emotions or a place defines your state, but, through experience, one cannot deny that some places evoke poignant feelings. Perhaps it is a little of both, the state I am in and the state the place is in, that combine to create this melody of moods. Never knowing where it started or where it ends. Never knowing if I am my own placebo and that, by being in a place that I subconsciously know should make me feel that way, this creates the feeling. Then, is the peace within subconsciously projected and hence outwardly re-projected back onto myself? This might be a good time for one of my favorite sayings: "The world is a reflection of yourself." Now this seems to be more relevant than ever. It almost seems like a game, to be aware of the places that move you to a higher state and wonder why you would ever leave them for the places that evoke subconscious feelings of disgust. But I cannot believe that. There is beauty everywhere. Everywhere! Perhaps it is the belief that stems from me that a place is not beautiful. I choose not to be in a state of peace all the time because I choose to perceive my world not in a state of peace. But therein lies the truth, for the world is always at peace. It is only I who can create a state of disdain. Only I can create.
Would one want to create beauty all the time? Or is there a balance in believing in ugliness and beauty? Would I become jaded and soon beauty itself would become ugly? It seems I ask questions to which the answers are irrelevant. Why even worry about it? Perhaps I am making it more complicated than it needs to be. You like some places, and you don't like others. Some days you feel good, and some days you feel bad. Put the two together and you have a state of being. The rest is a circle of thought, about which there is no point to seek the end, for there isn't one. It's a circle, you dumbass!
Ramble, ramble, ramble…I hope I have confused you as much I have confused myself.
Yesterday.....oh, yesterday was perfect. I snuggled up to the TV, because, yes, it does get cold in florida, and I zoned out to “The Client,” a drama about a young, independent, and boisterous boy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but thankfully a divorce lawyer, played by Susan Sarandon, was there to save the day and help solve the mystery, after which I decided perhaps I should be productive.
I wandered out to our little 10 x 5’ garden and decided to weed out the half that hadn't been weeded and stake my claim. I am endeavoring to try my black thumb at gardening in the hopes that anything green will come out. The soil is so sandy, though, that I don't know what would be willing to survive in it. Research......
Then, I promptly decided that was enough work for one day, and I slugged back over to the couch and nestled in again. To my surprise, the last Matrix movie was on, equivalent to trash, but there is a small amount of food for thought in it…enough to warrant not getting up to change the channel because we have no remote, so whenever something’s on that I don't necessarily like, I pretty much make myself find a way to like it.
I planned my weekend this way. When asked what I was going to do this weekend, my reply was, “Hopefully nothing.” I wanted a weekend to re-collect myself and prepare for fire.
OK, I will admit I did start a sourdough starter, so I did do at least two productive things, though there is an ad here to "Create an avatar worthy of your features. Play sorority life and show off with how beautiful you are!" Oh, excuse me from my novel. I think I just found my calling! You guys sure are lucky I found something to stop my mind (hence, my fingers) from continuing these endless rambles. Lucky this time; perhaps not so lucky the next.
Sorry, Phoebes, that this turned into one of those letters that originally started out to you, which is why it is written as it is, since I write a certain way when I write you. But since I love what you inspire to come out of me, it then turned into a letter that should be shared with all. So, to all who read this know, it doesn't necessarily stream from me; there is a hidden magic from one of the dearest people to walk the earth. And, don't worry---she knows it’s true. Because I said it, therefore it must be true! We tend to gush on each other. It's a good circle---one I am happy to be in.
OK, so I love you, Phoebes, and I hope you don't mind the sharing of your inspiration, and I love everybody else who drains all their mitochondrial waste just in order to read my epics.
Love,
E or B
I wandered out to our little 10 x 5’ garden and decided to weed out the half that hadn't been weeded and stake my claim. I am endeavoring to try my black thumb at gardening in the hopes that anything green will come out. The soil is so sandy, though, that I don't know what would be willing to survive in it. Research......
Then, I promptly decided that was enough work for one day, and I slugged back over to the couch and nestled in again. To my surprise, the last Matrix movie was on, equivalent to trash, but there is a small amount of food for thought in it…enough to warrant not getting up to change the channel because we have no remote, so whenever something’s on that I don't necessarily like, I pretty much make myself find a way to like it.
I planned my weekend this way. When asked what I was going to do this weekend, my reply was, “Hopefully nothing.” I wanted a weekend to re-collect myself and prepare for fire.
OK, I will admit I did start a sourdough starter, so I did do at least two productive things, though there is an ad here to "Create an avatar worthy of your features. Play sorority life and show off with how beautiful you are!" Oh, excuse me from my novel. I think I just found my calling! You guys sure are lucky I found something to stop my mind (hence, my fingers) from continuing these endless rambles. Lucky this time; perhaps not so lucky the next.
Sorry, Phoebes, that this turned into one of those letters that originally started out to you, which is why it is written as it is, since I write a certain way when I write you. But since I love what you inspire to come out of me, it then turned into a letter that should be shared with all. So, to all who read this know, it doesn't necessarily stream from me; there is a hidden magic from one of the dearest people to walk the earth. And, don't worry---she knows it’s true. Because I said it, therefore it must be true! We tend to gush on each other. It's a good circle---one I am happy to be in.
OK, so I love you, Phoebes, and I hope you don't mind the sharing of your inspiration, and I love everybody else who drains all their mitochondrial waste just in order to read my epics.
Love,
E or B
Editor's Note: For incredibly detailed pictures of Bok Tower, please visit the following Web site:
http://www.blacksmithing.org/events/Bok2009/Bok2009.htm
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