Golden Tower
The gleaming spiral tower
stabs the sky with gold
built on the forgotten foundation
of the humbler architect
The day you broke away
to ascend the left-turning stairs
as only the ones charged
with the highest of all questions can
Your unbending glance hardened
obscure seasons of suffering
saffron rays of pleasure
into treads and handrails
At the crest of the narrowing path
trembling with anticipation
you will find only emptiness
in the hollow redeemer sphere
Let this part throw itself down
for its descendant to see
the hidden way back
that meanders to the right
I am waiting
down below
where every pore
rings with the carillon playing
Here
our soft bodies
need no answers
The idea of the poem was inspired by the golden tower of Vor Frelsers Kirke (Church of the Redeemer) in Christiania, Copenhagen. In a debunked myth, the architect of the spiral tower, Laurids de Thurah, jumped to his death from the top because the spiral staircase was built to rotate counterclockwise, which did not suit sword duels where the combatants then had to wield their sword on the inside of the narrow staircase.
The renowned spiral winding was placed upon the inconspicuous base of the church years after its first construction. The essential part of the church, the carillon, however, is still situated in the original, forgotten foundation of the humbler architect.
For myself, the opulent built-up with the round redeemer’s sphere on the top always represented a sort of higher purpose, a striving for meaning and understanding. The tower is always prominent, almost not avoidable, but not quite graspable: Resolving its secret at its crown is impossible.
The “path to enlightenment” can become a somewhat misguided search for a superior meaning of life, the need to achieve understanding of everything, answer the highest of all questions. What is reality, God / the universe, consciousness, or generally the purpose of our existence?
What if those questions are not the right ones to ask?
Striving for purpose can be counterproductive to truly understanding reality and cultivating wisdom. In the end, these concepts don’t reflect life’s ever-changing current, but impose another rigid, grasping layer upon experience: One that distances us from aliveness rather than bringing us closer to meaning.
Not many people endure the upward struggle. In the end, it is also a way to give our obscure seasons of suffering, our saffron rays of pleasure a context that makes sense, that we feel is meaningful to progress on our quest. A certain level of stubbornness is needed to set out with an unbending glance.
When it becomes obvious that all this striving was only to find emptiness, it can be quite disillusioning: All this was for nothing? But that is exactly what is needed: The finding is the not-finding. In the acceptance of emptiness at the crest of the narrow path. We have let go of this aspect in us, transcend the part that masked fear with hope, unworthiness with striving.
Only then can a transformed, wiser version embark on the hidden way back that returns from the outward-focussed striving to inward simplicity and presence: Our bodies, listening to the ever-present miracle of life.
…
I started writing this piece many years ago, and never really finished it. So many iterations that did not feel quite right. Even now, it does feel incomplete, clunky and highly overly-intellectualized. It’s a bit paradoxical that it contains so many concepts even though it aims to advocate for letting go of them. But maybe that is how it’s supposed to be.
