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It always seemed to me that the universe has a voice and will speak if anyone is there to listen. Most times we don’t hear what it has to say. We are busy with our beloved trivialities. Once in a while, we do hear. We know what is said by the truthfulness conveyed. We don’t control this. In fact, taking responsibility for what the cosmos says is a sure way to silence the voice. Let the cosmos speak , is the poet’s advice.
Hence, I have come to call these short burst of light Passing Comets . They come from out of nowhere in the night and quickly speed way, gone forever at sunrise. If not written down immediately, the cope and hassle of the day obliterates them. After realizing I could remember these comets for only a short time because of their volatility, I got in the habit of carrying a journal/sketchbook with me.
This has gone on since 1967; the oldest comet. I am sure everyone who reads this book has had their own comets flash across their mind from time to time. It is with those moments that we realize we are in touch with something really grand, really spacious, really deep, even if the comet amounts to little more than a good laugh; it counts. What I like is the way a comet will often rearrange the wording of a mundane thought to reveal a better meaning, a new out of the box insight. I encourage everyone to listen to that voice they recognize as coming from some place profound, especially if it carries the message of love and compassion.
