Friday, September 11, 2020
die to everything that you know
Thursday, September 10, 2020
in the deep woods
You find a flower half-buried in leaves,And in your eye its very fate resides.Loving beauty, you caress the bloom;Soon enough, you’ll sweep petals from the floor.
Terrible to love the lovely so,To count your own years, to say “I’m old,”To see a flower half-buried in leavesAnd come face to face with what you are.
In Basho's house
Tuesday, September 8, 2020
a moment outside the moment
between what I see and what I say
Monday, September 7, 2020
opening
Sunday, September 6, 2020
self-imposed suffering
If we live in the moment, we are not in time.
Getting caught up in memories of the past or worrying about the future
Now isn't a time to look back or plan ahead.
earth's desire
Saturday, September 5, 2020
impossible orchestra
~ Conductor Alondra de la Parra
brings together The Impossible Orchestra, formed by outstanding musicians from 14 different countries. The goal is to support Mexican women and children affected by COVID-19 through Fondo Semillas and Save the Children México.
when death comes
When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.
Wednesday, September 2, 2020
intensely alive
.
the looking will always reveal a networking of causes and conditions,
a fabric of inter-becoming that is vast and pervasive
without any finite boundaries in either space or time.
There is a transforming magic in deep seeing.
There is a magic in love;
magic in the sense that the moment is filled with
a feeling of immense spaciousness and possibility.
Things seem more intensely alive.
The predictable world,
filled with its opaque-making hopes and fears becomes transparent,
revealing a world poised on that terrifying and awesomely alive point of impermanence,
a universe dancing in that impossible place that transcends all paradox.
To love someone is not to know a person totally.
It is to constantly realize that they are infinitely vast and
ultimately unknowable.
So the voyage of discovery never comes to an end and
the person is a focus of undying interest,
continually revealing new facets of being.
~ Tarchin Hearn
by forgetting time
In our consciousness of time
we are doomed to the past.
The future we may dream of
but can know it only after
it has come and gone.
The present too we know
only as the past. When
we say, "This now is
present, the heat, the breeze,
the rippling water," it is past.
Before we knew it, before
we said "now." it was gone.
If the only time we live
is the present, and if the present
is immeasurably short (or
long), then by the measure
of the measurers we don't
exist at all, which seems
improbable, or we are
immortals, living always
in eternity, as from time to time
we hear, but rarely know.
You see the rainbow and the new-leafed
woods bright beneath, you see
the otters playing in the river
or the swallows flying, you see
a beloved face, mortal
and beloved, causing the heart
to sway in the rift between beats
where we live without counting,
where we have forgotten time
and have forgotten ourselves,
where eternity has seized us
as its own. This breaks
open the little circles
of the humanly known and believed,
of the world no longer existing,
letting us live where we are,
as in the deepest sleep also
we are entirely present,
entirely trusting, eternal.
Is it concentration of the mind,
our unresting counting
that leaves us standing
blind in our dust?
In time we are present only
by forgetting time.
~ Wendell Berry
art by James Eads
Tuesday, September 1, 2020
to steady the ladder
Some say that compassion, kindness and caring are our true nature.The instinct to help, to steady the ladder, to be there when we are needed,to do so without so much as a thought for ourselves may arise from deep within the seed of our being.
In an article a few years ago one researcher discovered what turned out to be a predictable response from very young children.
Oops, the scientist dropped
his clothespin.
Not to worry — a wobbly toddler raced to help, eagerly handing it back.
The simple experiment shows the capacity for altruism emerges
as early as 18 months of age.
Psychology researcher Felix Warneken of Germany’s
Max Planck Institute of Evolutionary Anthropology
performed a series of ordinary tasks in front of toddlers,
such as hanging towels with clothespins or stacking books.
Sometimes he “struggled” with the tasks; sometimes he deliberately messed up.
Over and over, whether Warneken dropped clothespins or knocked over his books,
each of 24 toddlers offered help within seconds — but only if he appeared to
need it.
Video shows how one overall-clad baby glanced between Warneken’s face
and the dropped clothespin before quickly crawling over,
grabbing the object, pushing up to his feet
and eagerly handing back the pin.
Warneken never asked for the help and didn’t even say “thank you,”
so as not to taint the research by training youngsters to expect praise
if they helped. After all, altruism means helping
with no expectation of anything in return
— the toddlers didn’t bother to offer help when he deliberately
pulled a book off the stack or threw a pin to the floor,
~ Felix Warneken
Monday, August 31, 2020
oh what is that beautiful thing that just happened?
At Blackwater Pond the tossed waters have settled
after a night of rain.
I dip my cupped hands. I drink
a long time. It tastes
like stone, leaves, fire. It falls cold
into my body, waking the bones. I hear them
deep inside me, whispering
oh what is that beautiful thing
that just happened?
~ Mary Oliver
photo by Eliot Porter