Mystical Tarot Realms
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Buckeye Trees in the Wild
WILD
Words and Music by Jim Robbins
I began at dawn and reached
the dead incense cedar, its red bark
spiraling upward to a jagged,
barren point surrounded by the high,
thin whistles of chickadees and the rapping
of woodpeckers. I must have begun
in a wet field of blue dick and mustard,
the redwing swaying on a fluorescent raceme
above the purple flower heads and fresh
green grass, or was it a high meadow
blooming with shooting stars and lupine,
where marmots scurried across the path,
the pond hundreds of feet below so clear
I could see fish drifting in sunlight.
I must have seen the crowns
of gigantic trees without knowing
what they are, above the canopy,
and eventually encountered the first
huge trunks of the grove, dwarfing me
completely. I must keep finding
a path that leads me to a leaf
or root or wing or petal connected
to everything else, making me
lose myself over and over.
​
Suite No. 5, Thirteenth Movement:
WILD
Often when exploring the woods, you can feel lost even if you know exactly where you are, mainly, I think, because you lose yourself in the frequencies of nature. You are no longer stuck in the beta brain wave, the only brain frequency, it seems, that is acceptable in modern society. The “heart beat" of Mother Earth, at 7.83 HZ, is on the border between Theta and Alpha brain waves. In other words, Mother Nature herself can induce a brain wave frequency where one experiences tranquility, intuition, visions, and wise inner voices. I have found this to be the case over and over in my excursions into nature.
My conscious mind often fears this shift, especially when it is about to occur. Other times, it happens without me even noticing. When the shift occurs, often I feel a profound sense of peace and a connection with everything in the world around me. I do not want to romanticize nature; living in nature is not easy, especially if you have not been taught how to survive. But I think modern humans have a distinct advantage over our ancestors: We can cross the border between one order of existence and another whenever we please. In some places, like Fresno, CA, you can cross the border into nature in less than an hour, and continue, if you choose, to head deeper and deeper into the wild.
Over the past thirty years, my wife and I have taken advantage of the opportunity to experience many different ecosystems. For many years, we celebrated the natural world by pointing out and admiring and praising its living beings, from its smallest flowers to its largest trees. We didn’t mind being dwarfed by a mountain peak or a gigantic tree; we reveled in the sublime.
My wife enjoyed singing “Wild” even though it is not easy to sing. My wife shared with me most of the experiences I describe in the song. One of our most sublime experiences occurred when we were hiking in a high forest and suddenly encountered a grove of giant sequoia trees that we had not expected to find. Each sequoia, as I say in the song, dwarfed us completely. When another creature makes you feel miniscule in comparison, you cannot help but appreciate “the other.” Once you've made a connection with any other creature, even the smallest creatures seem mysterious and magical.
I have many vivid memories of the smaller creatures: a marmot running across the path, or a redwing blackbird perched on a mustard plant, or a kingsnake in the grass, or a turtle on a river bank. Sometimes my wife and I encountered a stunning array of wildflowers, and sometimes one bird was enough to knock our socks off. The different ecosystems were never the same from one day to the next, and we were never disappointed.
Somewhere along the line, my wife and I stopped crossing the border into otherness, to the detriment of our marriage. She got so bogged down by work, and I became too fatigued by a chronic illness that we no longer went out into nature. Soon we stopped appreciating each other.
Ancient Native American Trail Next to Creek
MAGIC WINDOW
Words and Music by Jim Robbins
We've spent thirty years together, gazing
through our windows. Before it's too late, I
want us to peek into a deep pool bordered
by flowers, where a snake glides, eyes
above water, and frogs, face down, cling
to stone, where wings flash around us,
where a deer peers a long time at us,
and a wildcat crouches in the grass.
A golden palace looms on a far-off cliff,
but the treasure we seek abides here:
a golden equal-armed cross; golden cups
and plates on a brilliant white cloth;
a glittering diamond rooted in the depths.
This window is too deep to fathom.
We have witnessed strife and sickness,
tawdriness and horror, reflections
and extinctions, yet in this pool, our souls,
like birds and trees and rocks, sink
into exultations of the sun. If some day
I am gone, seemingly nowhere to be found,
--remember, I will be there, waiting for you.
​
Suite No. 5, Fourteenth Movement:
MAGIC WINDOW
Often when I am in the wild, I feel a shift in consciousness. My brain waves tune to a vibration conducive to contact with the higher self and with the spirits of nature personified throughout the ages as deities or elementals. In places where I might encounter a mountain lion or a snake or a frog, I sometimes hear a wise voice or see a vision in my mind’s eye or feel an intuition.
My wife and I found a creek with more snakes and newts and turtles and frogs than we had ever encountered anywhere else. We called it “Frog Creek.” If you hike back far enough, you find a deep pool beneath a waterfall.
In the song “Magic Window,” I describe peering into the deep pool and seeing spiritual symbols that I have envisioned during meditation or while in nature--treasures of the spirit.
At the time I wrote the lyrics, I believed that I was dying from heart disease, and I believed that my wife would stay with me, "in sickness and in health." One day, after a long, terrible bout with atrial fibrillation, I actually floated above my body. I was sure that I was dying of a heart attack, but suddenly my soul was sucked back into my body. Apparently, it wasn't time for me to go yet. After my wife left me, I managed to eliminate gluten completely from my diet and no longer experienced atrial fibrillation. I don't experience heart disease anymore, and I no longer fear that I am about to die, but my ex-wife and I will never again go to Frog Creek together, at least not in this life-time.
Wind Poppies after the Rough Fire
LET GO
Words and Music by Jim Robbins
The day had come to say goodbye,
the rooms gathering their endings,
eyelids closing near worn-out paths,
my body a ravaged hive.
As I closed my eyes, buildings
emptied themselves of me, decades
of webs cleared in a moment. Free,
I threw my knife down and plunged
into a river where no lifeguard
could save me, and I drifted
toward slow tapestries in the soil,
hearing the mantra of leaves:
Leave the toil of destinations--
Let go, let go, only know the sun.
Immobile, I saw treasures
no one else could see: a golden
cup and plate on a pure, white cloth;
a lemniscate; an equal-armed cross.
In the deep a diamond hovered above my head,
and, far below mouths opening and closing
on the flowing surface, I could see threads
everywhere dissolving in a blazing light
of negative existence. Aware
of my breath, I opened my eyes,
my hands together, my legs stiff,
returning to a failing body, knowing
light in each cell, in the earth,
in the deepest roots of the mind.
Suite No. 5, Fifteenth Movement:
LET GO
One day, years ago, I leapt from rock to rock across Big Creek, and climbed an embankment near an ancient Native American site. I found a lush green Eden surrounded by cliffs and imbued with a mysterious presence. I felt an overwhelming urge to explore the pristine paradise, but I soon faced a daunting incline. Nevertheless, I forged ahead, climbing higher and higher until I realized that I was perched on a nearly vertical cliffside. When I looked down, I knew that I would not be able to descend without tumbling to my death, and the cliff above appeared hopelessly steep. For a few moments, I was sure that I was going to die high on a mountain where no one else ever goes. After I recovered from my climber's panic, I did the only thing I could do: I inched my way to the top of the ridge and eventually found a much easier route back to the creek.
At one point recently, I stared into a different kind of abyss. Due to constantly recurring bouts of atrial fibrillation, I was certain that I was experiencing a fatal form of heart disease. I struggled from day to day, hoping that I would live a little longer while striving all the while to accept the inevitable. I felt an overwhelming desire to withdraw from daily life and from my relationships. On the one hand, I felt subconsciously compelled to protect myself. On the other, I was trying to let go and give others the opportunity to let go of me as well. Unless you have teetered on the edge, certain that you are soon going to fall off, you might not understand what I was experiencing. My wife, unfortunately, either did not understand at all or understood only too well and fled in terror.
After she had witnessed me teetering on the edge for over a year, my wife received the first installment of her inheritance. She put the money in a separate account and informed me that she was retiring. Soon after that, she informed me that she was leaving me for her old flame.
When I was seventeen, my father died. I felt like I had little or no control over my own fate, and I realized that we are all essentially alone in the face of death. Eventually I learned to forgive, recognizing that forgiveness is an act of self-empowerment because you free yourself of negative energy. I do not blame my wife, except for one thing: She abandoned me when I was practically on my death bed.
I have dramatically reduced atrial fibrillation and other problems by eliminating gluten completely from my diet. However, my wife obviously doesn't care enough to stay in the relationship and work through our issues. I find it hard to forgive, but I understand it.
Shooting Stars in a Rivulet
SEARCHING FOR THE SOURCE
Words and Music by Jim Robbins
In the forest, my soul thaws
as though a layer of ice that holds
all good and bad has hardened around
my core, and suddenly the ice
melts away. We search for the source
of rivulets that join with larger streams
cascading down the slopes
in search of a distant ocean,
our own bloodstreams part
of an eternal cycle filled with light,
like the water, the oaks, the moss,
the mushrooms, the rocks, the bushes, the grass....
Suite No. 5, Sixteenth Movement:
SEARCHING FOR THE SOURCE
I have discovered that when I am in nature, my personality melts away, and I find the Source in everything that I encounter. In these moments, I lose all sense of what others might label as the good or bad in me. I am just part of an infinite tapestry of cosmic energies. I also stop judging other people because I know that this Source is at the core of all people. What others perceive as good and bad in themselves could also melt away to reveal that they are magnificent expressions of divine wholeness, harmony, and abundance. This truth unfortunately gets lost under the layer of ideas and beliefs that we form about ourselves and other people--especially the ones closest to us.