“They’re Singing Your Song”, From a story told by Alan Cohen

“They’re Singing Your Song”, From a story told by Alan Cohen

“They’re Singing Your Song”, From a story told by Alan Cohen in his book: Wisdom Of The Heart

When a woman in a certain African tribe knows she is pregnant, she goes out into the wilderness with a few friends and together they pray and meditate until they hear the song of the child. They recognize that every soul has its own vibration that expresses its unique flavor and purpose. When the women attune to the song, they sing it out loud. Then they return to the tribe and teach it to everyone else.

When the child is born, the community gathers and sings the child’s song to him or her. Later, when the child enters education, the village gathers and chants the child’s song. When the child passes through the initiation to adulthood, the people again come together and sing. At the time of marriage, the person hears his or her song.

Finally, when the soul is about to pass from this world, the family and friends gather at the person’s bed, just as they did at their birth, and they sing the person to the next life.

To the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them.

The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.

A friend is someone who knows your song and sings it to you when you have forgotten it. Those who love you are not fooled by mistakes you have made or dark images you hold about yourself. They remember your beauty when you feel ugly; your wholeness when you are broken; your innocence when you feel guilty; and your purpose when you are confused.

You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well.

You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home.

Art by Ed Fairburn
Art by Ed Fairburn

Reflections on the Nature of Mind by Alan Cohen

What is this mind before which
all this passes?
the cars endlessly rolling,
the breeze, the people standing
at the bus stop waiting

The way it wants to reach out,
to merge with nature
not the asphalt and the metal
but the beauty of the weaving branches
the blueness of the sky
the flight of the seagull
the striation of cirrus clouds
like an unknowable alphabet in the sky.

In time I am waiting
amidst the turbulent changes
I am waiting
Before the future I am creating
I am waiting

In the now
there is the boarding of the bus,
the placing of the $2.35 in the coinbox,
the finding of a seat,
sunrays reflecting from
the aluminum backs of the seats,
the air conditioning cooling the air,
the squeaking brakes of the bus.
the clicking heels of the tall woman
stepping to the back of the bus.
to the Golden Gate bridge and San Francisco
This is the now
There is the past.
Here comes the future.

Yet when I look through God’s eyes,
I laugh.
I laugh after I cry from the shock of the transition.
I laugh because my mind
despite all these perceptions,
these cascading thoughts
has no existence, no time, no separateness.

This is the vastness.
This is the sea of darkness.
This is the kiss of light.
This is the immersion into the mist.
This is the flight of matter.
This is the dissolution of soul.
This is the remembrance.
This is the eternal wheel,
the wheel within the wheel
This is my home.
This is my exile
from the human world.
This is the never-ending journey.
© Copyright by Allen Cohen. All rights reserved.

The Last Days of Peace by Alan Cohen

It is too complex for a poem –
the last days of peace
and the wars to follow.

It is not the puff of cloud alone
in the blue sky like a lost lamb.
It is not the eyes of the beautiful woman
watching me as I read poems at the library.

It is not dinner with friends
or a walk on the beach
dogs running through the surf.

It is not even my fragile body
fighting for its life
with the dragon within.

It is not the taste of a crisp sweet apple
or a memory of childhood
popping into the mind with a smile.

It is not watching River being born
his head appearing in this world
cutting the cord and burying
the placenta beneath an apple tree.

It is not sitting in the Cafe Reggio
with Elmer for the first time in 35 years
and throwing snowballs
in the narrow streets of Greenwich Village.

It is not the sounds of a jazz band
xylophone, sax and rhythm section
playing outside the Catalyst in Santa Cruz
on a spring day while having
breakfast with fellow poets.

It is not the first time
making love with Ann
looking at her blue eyes
and cascading long silver hair
and feeling that I must have died
and gone to heaven.

It is too complex for a poem –
the last days of peace
and the wars to follow.

Allen Cohen (June, 2003)
This poem is included in Allen Cohen’s book, “Like A Radiant Dove”.
Published (2005) by Regent Press.

The World Is A Butterfly’s Wing by Allen Cohen

An awareness arises
from within the mind
where God hides
waiting to be called,
whispering hauntingly
” Come deeper, find me!
The world is a butterfly’s wing.
Be gentle and come deeper.”

Decoding Spring

There is an intelligence
that impels flowers to bud
encoded in every cell of the tree.

The code says, “I will flower-
I will leaf. I will fruit. I will seed
and I will create more of me.

I will breathe C02.
I will use the light and heat of the sun
and I will be.

I will provide
the nectar of the flower,
the sweet fruit and the shade of my leaves.

I will breathe out Oxygen
and countless beings will be created and flourish
and they will be healed and nourished by me.

They will help spread
my essence and preserve me –
my plan is perfect.

Through this giving
with this constant beauty
through these endless creations

in the hidden world of my seed
nesting in the dark passivity of the earth
there will be a paradise.”

An awareness arises
from within the mind
where God hides
waiting to be called,
whispering hauntingly
” Come deeper, find me!
The world is a butterfly’s wing.
Be gentle and come deeper.”

The World is a Butterfly’s Wing
Song Cycle
Poetry by Allen Cohen
Music by Nancy Bloomer Deussen
© 1999 by Nancy Bloomer Deussen and Allen Cohen

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