The “Local Ecstatics” are three men who came together one Friday evening, sat in a coffee shop until it closed, then went to sit in a local pizza shop until it also closed, to discuss and scratch out on napkins, a one-punch tagline to describe the profound category of “Ecstatic Poetry”. We knew, from the first conversation, that we all recognized this form of poetry when we Saw it. But what made it different from other forms? How do we draw lines around something inherently “undefinable”? The quote above is what conspired after the pizza-shop closed for the night and we continued our work on empty tables in the plaza.
It may be best to think of Ecstatic Poetry, not as a category where we weigh the evidence, but as an open field. In this field, many varieties of flowers grow, in all languages, styles, and cultures. Animals of different breeds may roam through this field. Some flowers may bloom only in certain seasons, and some stand as rooted trees, giving shade year round.
“Beyond our ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing, there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase ‘each other’
doesn’t make sense anymore.”
Rumi~
These trees offering shade would be the Mystic Poets of the Middle East, such as Julladin Rumi, Hafiz, and Kalil Gibran. Some American poets, such as Allen Ginsberg, Coleman Barks, and Leonard Cohen. Or Spanish poet Pablo Neruda and English poet William Blake… there is no fence around this field– only trees growing between other fields.
What grows there in the space between poet and the nature of their longing is an impossible thing to pin down,
“Poets are Damned–
but see with Eyes of Angels.”
Ginsberg~
It is a relationship every Ecstatic poet is trying to ‘put their finger on’, but the Love of that Reality wipes away all ‘pointing’. We Know it to be true, though, we cannot give you a scrap of evidence. We play a proofless game, but we continue playing anyhow, because what we love the most comes down into small forms to kick the ball with us.
“Love’s secret is always lifting its head out from under the covers — ‘Here I am!'”
Rumi~
Devotion is a good word for what spills the experiences of an Ecstatic Poet onto his lifetime of pages. Not a devotion to some god above the sky– but rather, an intense focus of personal understanding, a nest of insights to come home to each day, built on a branch of bewilderment. A Poet is drawn toward being profoundly moved, from one emotional settlement, to another, and to another. Life is a great washboard for our souls. Poet’s are those people busy homesteading their truth, while at the same time, nomadic across the heartlands within themselves… always in search of where the greater sense of Home awaits.
“Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.”
Leonard Cohen~
Ecstatic Art is made anywhere, from any instrument that can capture a tuft of some experience in Consciousness. It has less to do with following the patterns of other success stories, but everything to do with creating the face of your Beloved, your Truth, right out of the power of your own uniqueness.
“There are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the earth. ”
Rumi~
“Poetry arrived in search of me”
Neruda~
Rhapsody of Art 