poetry

the journey begins

brendakofford_dandelionproject819web

You can learn about the pine only from the pine, or about the bamboo only from bamboo.  When you see an object, you must leave your subjective pre-occupation with yourself; otherwise you impose yourself on the object, and do not learn.  The object and yourself must become one, and from that feeling of oneness issues your poetry.  However well phrased it may be, if your feeling is not natural—if the object and our self are separate—then your poetry is not true poetry but merely your subjective counterfeit.

~ Basho*

Keith Kenniff is an American composer, multi-instrumentalist, and electronic music producer. He composes ambient/electronic music under the moniker Helios and post-classical piano music under Goldmund.

no trespassing

Again

I sneak into your garden

to eat arena berries.

(Please keep yourself hidden

until I go away!)

~Ryokan, cited in: K Tanahashi, Sky Above, Great Wind

weaving
During a recent photo walk, I found myself ignoring a “no trespassing” sign while silently rehearsing innocent detail.  If I had not been somewhat oppositional, I would have missed this interesting chair being re-weaved by nature as well as a water lily pond and a kingfisher. Much the same as Ryokan, 190+ years ago, I found myself hoping the homeowners would keep themselves hidden until I went away.

objectification

gaze

 My eye for me is a certain power of making contact with things, and not a screen on which they are projected … The other’s gaze transforms me into an object, and mine, him, only if both of us withdraw into the core of our thinking nature [left hemisphere], if we both make ourselves into an inhuman gaze, if each of us feels his actions to be not taken up as understood, but observed as if they were an insect’s. This is what happens, for instance, when I fall under the eyes of a stranger. But even then the objectification of each by the other’s gaze is felt as unbearable only because it takes the place of a possible communication.

~Maurice Merleau-Pontry (cited: Iain McGilchrist, The Master and his Emmissary, p.166)

vulgar songs fill the days…

dandelionproject729bweb

Customs become diluted year after year.

Both the noble and the common decline.

The human mind grows fragile with time;

the ancestral way becomes fainter day by day.

Teachers can’t see past the name of their school;

students enable their teachers’ narrow-mindedness.

They are glued to each other,

unwilling to change.
…
Thornbushes grow around high halls,

fragrant flowers wither in the weeds.

Vulgar songs fill the days.

Who will expound the luminous teaching?

Ah, I, a humble one,

have encountered this era.

When a great house is about to crumble,

a stick cannot keep it from falling.

Unable to sleep on a clear night,

I toss in bed, …

~Ryokan, 1796-1816 (K Tanahashi, Sky Above, Great Wind)