Attar. Conference of Birds. 7 Valleys.

Attar through 7 Valleys

Attar through 7 Valleys

Attar. The Conference of the Birds. Seven Valleys.

January 14, 2010.

Attar and a soaring flock of birds lift the Persona, from the plain of Konya, onto another plane. Through Seven Valleys they fly, from Tabriz to Sulaymaniyah; Shiraz and Hafez, to Nishapur, Khorasan, on the Silk Road; Ferdowsi and a tear over Iran; Alexander’s Bactria and Kandahar; down through the Kyber Pass, Seven Valleys of the Soul, down into India and the plain of Agra. Leaving the poet before Emperor Akbar’s city of Fatehpur Sikri, standing alone, before the lake.

Frederick Glaysher

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Rumi. Mevlana. Konya.

Rumi. Mevlana. Konya.

Rumi. Mevlana. Konya.

Rumi. Mevlana. Konya.

A house in Konya, ancient Iconium, where St. Paul preached the Gospel. Around and around. Ethereal music and chanting. Another world. Around and around, a pole in a house, Rumi in another world, longing for the Beloved, the scent of her tresses. And then he stopped and asked a question.

We walked through fields of flowers to a riverbank. A reed pulled from its source.

Attar and a flock of birds lift the Persona from that Valley of Search.

Frederick Glaysher

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Tolstoy. Yasnaya Polyana.

Swirling Tunnel of Time

Swirling Tunnel of Time

Tolstoy. Yasnaya Polyana.

Wainamoinen,  along with Sigurd, Beowulf, and the Valkyries, lift the Persona from the Isle of green to a grove of green, turning toward early fall, as through a swirling tunnel of time, to a birch bench. Tolstoy guides me further along the path, discusses his religious beliefs, mourns his mistakes, grieves Russia’s collapse into the crevasse of modernity. Two young poets swept away into the gulag emerge to carry the Persona from Russia, with Hadji Murad, heading south.

Frederick Glaysher

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London. Englands Green.

Englands Green & Pleasant Land

Englands Green & Pleasant Land

London. Englands Green.

Browning’s poem Christmas Eve especially opened the door for me, finally walked through, after decades of thinking about it. Browning and Tennyson before Westminster Abbey. A cordial reception and then a dressing down. The Federation of the World.

Blake and Milton walk together over from St. Margaret’s Church and join us. My master guides me to what Blake called, so rightly, “Englands green & pleasant land.” A simple parish church. Surrounding graves. A church perhaps Thomas Hardy had restored, in need again of his services. A prayer.

And the Lady of the Lake. A thrush, not darkling now, though it were. Excalibur. Arthur returns. An inscription on the shining blade.

Frederick Glaysher

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