We are on the threshold of 100,000 visits to this blog. As those who know me would expect, I am celebrating with a nude selfie. As I've said many times, "there is nothing to say about a naked man (or woman)." It is, after all, our natural state and birthright. But there may be something to say about a photograph of such a person. The photo below was taken on December 8 2020, coincidentally our forty-first wedding anniversary. If I look relatively healthy and youthful in the picture, at the age of 78, Sandy deserves much of the credit. I think I would probably be dead, at least physically, if not for her.
On September 26 2020, three days after my birthday, I published this poem:
Visions I - The Old Man
An old man,
with gray hair and beard,
is giving me nourishment,
sustenance,
and keys,
from the other side.
He hands these things to me
through the veil,
with his right hand.
In his left hand he holds a staff.
I do not know his name,
but he knows me.
This "vision" was actually an appearance on the Astral plane, the level that is called "sukshma" (subtle) in Sanskrit. It is not uncommon for me to receive communications on the Astral from friends who have passed, but I didn't know who this one was, Or maybe I didn't want to know. It was cleared up for me at 3:55 a.m. this morning. It was Yakov.
My friend Yakov Leib HaKohain, known to the poetry community as Larry G. Corey, passed on October 16 2017 (26 Tishrei 5778). On my birthday, three days before the "vision," I had written a poem, "Upanishadic Postlude," which I dedicated to him. Clearly, he was on my mind. In the poem I mentioned that on his yahrzeit, which this year fell on October 14, I would light a candle for him. And so I did.
Yakov did not appear to me in his physical form from this life, the old man who lived on the mountain with his beloved dogs. Instead he presented as a kind of Gandalf character, leaving me to wonder whether it was an agèd Rabbi, Sri Aurobindo, Walt Whitman, or someone else. I should have known. It was just the kind of trick Yakov would play, and no one else would even think of it.
As I said, it's not uncommon for friends who have passed on to communicate with me from the Astral. But they don't give me nourishment, sustenance, and keys.
I am accepting Yakov as my guide and teacher from the "other side," and taking him up on his promise. I do not do it lightly. It requires commitment, and comes with a responsibility. It also shows that I cannot escape from the old fart, even three years after his reputed "death."
Text and image Copyright © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Donald Jacobson Traxler.
