What I Meant to Say

Wendy Babiak's Visions and Revisions

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Now that my book has finally been published, I’ve been working on the appearance of my little blog. I’m still in the process of settling into our new home, and with spring here (as much as it comes in fits and starts in Ithaca, hot and steamy one day and a few days later shocking the redbuds and forsythia with snow showers),

I’ve been bitten by the gardening bug again, intent to establish a new hummingbird/butterfly garden, which I haven’t enjoyed since we left Shreveport over two years ago. I’ve missed the company of those critters; in myth they’re messengers between the worlds, and I’ve found them to serve just such a function in my real life. Through their fragile beauty and sudden appearances (and disappearances) they parallel perfectly the state of grace mystics have written of since, well, since folks started writing.

This is how it happens: you’re moving through the mundane world, and through no action of your own you’re suddenly confronted with reality in all its divine presence. Your heart breaks open and you realize that the armor you’ve been wearing has fallen away, useless, and further, that it’s been preventing you from experiencing the joy you were made to live.

I know that sounds airy fairy. And some who know me might be disappointed to discover that I’m not a strict materialist. Then again, I’m nervous about the unveiling of my book, because neither am I keen to embrace religious dogma, and the book makes that eminently clear. In fact, in some of the poems I downright reject religion. I mean, dang, look around. Religion has been nothing but a divisive excuse for violence for several millennia. I’ve been reading Riane Eisler’s seminal work, The Chalice & The Blade, which substantiates a suspicion I’ve long held, that Christ’s message in the gospels, one of compassion and egalitarianism, was hijacked by imperial Rome for purposes quite counter to it. And don’t even get me started on Islam. Though patriarchal dominance was in place, and justified through myth, for thousands of years before those two prophets made their entrances on the world stage. One has to go back to the Neolithic to discover a time when both halves of humanity lived in partnership. But I digress.

In addition to my book now being available, I’ve also got three poems put up recently at Big Bridge; the third, “a posteriori,” comes near the end of my book, and pretty well encapsulates the thrust of my endeavor. I know I’ve said this elsewhere, but yes, I really am writing in hopes of saving the world, from us, and for us.