Carl Sagan + Van Morrison = A Childs Wonder



‘We go about our daily lives understanding almost nothing of the world…..Except for children (who don’t know enough not to ask the important questions), few of us spend little time wondering why nature is the way it is; where the cosmos came from, or whether it was always there; if time will one day flow backwards and effects precede cause; or whether there are ultimate limits to what humans can know. There are even children, and I have met some of them, who want to know what a black hole looks like; what is the smallest piece of matter; why we remember the past and not the future; how it is, if there was chaos early, that there is, apparently order today; why there is a universe……….questions like this vividly expose the limitations of human understanding. An increased amount of adults are willing to ask questions of this sort, and occasionally they get some astonishing answers……a universe with no edge in space, no beginning or end in time, and nothing for a creator to do.’  Carl Sagan 

When the child was a child
It walked with arms hanging
Wanted the stream to be a river and the river a torrent
And this puddle, the sea
When the child was a child, it didnt know
It was a child
Everything for it was filled with life and all life was one
Saw the horizon without trying to reach it
Couldnt rush itself and think on command
Was often terribly bored
And couldnt wait
Passed up greeting the moments
And prayed only with its lips
When the child was a child
It didnt have an opinion about a thing
Had no habits
Often sat crossed-legged, took off running
Had a cow lick in its hair
And didnt put on a face when photographed

When the child was a child
It was the time of the following questions
Why am I me and why not you
Why am I here and why not there
Why did time begin and where does space end
Isnt what I see and hear and smell
Just the appearance of the world in front of the world
Isnt life under the sun just a dream
Does evil actually exist in people
Who really are evil
Why cant it be that I who am
Wasnt before I was
And that sometime i, the i, I am
No longer will be the i, I am

When the child was a child
It gagged on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding
And on steamed cauliflower
And now eats all of it and not just because it has to
When the child was a child
It woke up once in a strange bed
And now time and time again
Many people seem beautiful to it
And now not so many and now only if its lucky
It had a precise picture of paradise
And now can only vaguely conceive of it at best
It couldnt imagine nothingness
And today shudders in the face of it
Go for the ball
Which today rolls between its legs
With its Im here it came
Into the house which now is empty

When the child was a child
It played with enthusiasm
And now only with such former concentration
Where its work is concerned
When the game, task, activity, subject happens to be its work

When the child was a child
It was enough to live on apples and bread. and its still that way
When the child was a child berries fell
Only like berries into its hand. and still do
The fresh walnuts made its tongue raw. and still do
Atop each mountain it craved
Yet a higher mountain. and in each city it craved
Yet a bigger city. and still does
Reach for the cherries in the treetop
As elated as it still is today
Was shy in front of strangers. and still is
It waited for the first snow. and still waits that way
When the child was a child
It waited restlessly each day for the return of the loved one
And still waits that way
When the child was a child
It hurled a stick like a lance into a tree
And its still quivering there today

The child, the child was a child
Was a child, was a child, was a child, was a child
Child, child, child
When the child, when the child, when the child
When the child, when the child
The child, child, child, child, child

Van Morrison 

How can I begin to understand a little person that can still see spirits?  Go back to the beginning, before my mind began to believe the hype. 


2 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    Mama Wolf said,

    Unable to live on earth, Mira ventured out alone into the sky – I write of that journey of becoming as free as God. Don’t forget love; it will bring all the madness you need to unfurl yourself across the universe.

    Mirabai (1498 – 1550) Indian – of course!

    Keep unfurling, BananaRama xxxx

    • 2

      leroywatson4 said,

      Mata Durga, If you fill my mind with such beauty, a blooming lotus may leap from my brow. I love the pictures of Dhankar from the Peruvians. Do you have Rama’s email? The baba must be contacted soon and future plans unravelled. Im dreaming of a sub-tropical christmas…………….Bom ShankarX

Comment RSS · TrackBack URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: