Lost Cantos of the Orobouros Caves Lost Cantos of the Orobouros Caves

Lost Cantos of the Ouroboros Caves by Maggie Schein. Forward by Pat Conroy.

Lost Cantos of the Ouroboros Caves - Maggie Schein
Lost Cantos - The Temple

     We do not hear the truth because we are holding out for what we want to hear; we do not see the truth because only what we expect to see appears; we do not feel the truth because we would rather feel what comes to us than wait, and perhaps, feel nothing.

     “They” say many things, but they tend to say them over and over in different ways. I have heard most of them, if not all. I have listened for millennia. Men take a long time to change. Listening is hard. Much harder than the ears pretend. The ears are deceptive: clever and chimerical gatekeepers of how The Way sounds, of what we can hear of it. They are clever in that they appear to be always open; one cannot shut off the ears. Nonetheless, their gates do not swing.

     There are many things to see; or rather, “They” show us many things. I have seen many of them--as have many men. But the eyes are even more deceptive than the ears, for they pretend to discern, and their gates open and close, assuring us that when they are open, they see. They are so dogmatic in their certainty about what the mind will take as real--but they must not be trusted. Seeing is nearly impossible with the eyes open.

     The truth can be felt; I have felt more than I can understand. The skin and the organs are different from the ears and the eyes. They respond to what they sense honestly, like an animal or a child. They have no trouble telling the mind something is there that can not be seen, heard or understood, and they do not seem to care if the mind responds. The hairs will rise anyway. The chill or warmth will be registered in the neck, the liver or the kidneys. The heart will contract whether or not one wills it and the truth, or the lie, or the spirits, can tickle one’s neck and make one turn one’s head even if there is nothing to see or hear. But, despite their honesty, the skin and the organs are loyal to survival of the organism, not to the soul.

     I know all of this to be true, but she still waits for me, for me to come back to her. She waits on her heels at the dock, with the waves building and rushing over her. The fact that I know all of this does not stop her from waiting for me and does not stop me from feeling that I cannot reassure her.

Lost Cantos - The Temple

     “One must walk one’s own path; no one can walk it for you.” That is one of the things they say, one of the things the ears register.

     “There is no distance between now and then and there is no time between here and there.” They also say this, and part of that huge truth can squeeze through the Oval Window and reach the half-cocked cochlea.

     I have climbed the mountains as they rose over and over in front of me like waves. I know, now, that the summit of each one is the gods’ attempt at humor, and I have learned to laugh too. I have leapt over gorges

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