Last night I saw Leonard Cohen’s Old Ideas Tour, 2012 and though I usually refer to entire novels,
today I’m reflecting on an excerpt from Beautiful
Losers, a novel I read as a teenager.
That novel literally made me high.
I sat in a bus shelter for hours, so absorbed and mesmerized that when I
finally lifted my eyes from the page I realized I’d been there for hours, the
busses weren’t actually running that day, and my consciousness had changed.
Last night’s performance was as magical as his writing. The old geezer is still so sexy, physical and
wise. He put me in mind of a happy old dog. The best.
Cohen wrote Beautiful
Losers while he was still a young and presumably unwise man, but clearly
his foundations were well built. This
excerpt, ‘God is Alive’, has been sung most notably by Buffy Sainte- Marie. I have copied the words as lyrics, but have
also taken a picture of the text as it was excerpted in The Oxford Anthology of Canadian Literature. The notes are from my old teaching days, so I
would remember to adequately pester the students with pertinent analytical
questions. Further below you'll find a video link for Cohen reciting the passage, and finally at the bottom of this post, Buffy singing it. Enjoy!
Here goes:
GOD IS
ALIVE, MAGIC IS AFOOT
-Leonard Cohen (c) 1966
God is alive.....Magic is afoot...God is
alive....magic is afoot...
God is afoot.....Magic is alive...Alive is
afoot..magic never died!
God never sickened. Many poor men lied. Many sick
men lied.
Magic never weakened. Magic never hid. Magic always
ruled. God is afoot.
God never died!
God was
Ruler, though his funeral lengthened.
Though His
mourners thickened, magic never fled.
Though His
shrouds were hoisted the naked God did live;
Though His
words were twisted the naked magic thrived;
Though His
death was published round and round the world
The heart
did not believe.
Many hurt
men wondered. Many struck men bled.
Magic never
faltered. Magic always led.
Many stones
were rolled, but God would not lie down!
Many wild
men lied.
Many fat men
listened.
Though they
offered stones, magic still was fed!
Though they
locked their coffers, God was always served.
Magic is
afoot....God is alive....
Alive is
afoot....Alive is in command.
Many weak
men hungered.
Many strong
men thrived.
Though they
boasted solitude, God was at their side.
Nor the
dreamer in his cell, nor the captain on the hill:
Magic is
alive!
Though His
death was pardoned 'round and 'round the world,
The heart
would not believe!
Though laws
were carved in marble they could not shelter men;
Though
altars built in Parliaments, they could not order men;
Police
arrested magic and magic went with them, ah!
For magic
loves the hungry....
But magic
would not tarry, it moves from arm to arm,
It would not
stay with them; it cannot come to harm:
Magic is
afoot! It cannot come to harm.
It rests in
an empty palm. It spawns in an empty mind.
But magic is
no instrument: magic is the End!
Many men
drove magic, but magic stayed behind; Many strong men lied.
They only
passed thru magic and out the other side!
Many weak
men lied.
They came to
God in secret and though they left Him nourished,
They would
not tell Who healed;
Though
mountains danced before them, they said that God was dead!
Though His
shrouds were hoisted, the naked God did live!
God is alive! Magic is afoot...God is alive... God
is alive...
Magic is
afoot...
This I mean
to whisper to my mind:
This I mean
to laugh with in my mind:
This I mean
my mind to serve
'Til service
is but magic, moving thru the world
And mind
itself is magic, coursing thru the flesh
And flesh
itself is magic, dancing on a clock,
And Time
itself, the magic length of God!
God is
alive...Magic is afoot...Magic is afoot...God is alive..
Magic is
alive...God is afoot...Alive is afoot...God never died.
Many strong
men lied.
They only
passed thru magic and out the other side!
This I mean
to whisper to my mind:
This I mean
to laugh with in my mind:
This I mean
my mind to serve
'Til service
is but magic, moving thru the world
And mind
itself is magic, coursing thru the flesh
And flesh
itself is magic, dancing on a clock,
And Time
itself, the magic length of God!
After years of loving this poem, I was astonished one
sleepless night when my radio suddenly played this around three in the
morning. I honestly thought I’d slipped
into another consciousness:
I hope to reread the novel again, and may well have to buy
it from my own link. Hope that doesn’t
get me kicked out of Blogger! If you can
get tickets to see this incredible magician, don’t tarry.
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