Friday, July 18, 2014
Musician, play this moment's music as grace
for those who block our road, grace for
bandits! Musician, you learned this from
a true bandit. I hear the teacher's accent
in the student's art. Musician, turn your
face to absence, because existence is
deceitful and afraid. The soul knows it is
not from here. It feels bound in a body,
yet also knows the pleasure of absence.
Absence is the ocean we swim! Existence, a
fish hook. Anyone caught loses the joy
of freedom. Being nailed to the four
elements is a crucifixion. If you keep
running after your wishes and desires,
that's your crucifixion, be sure of it!
There is a fire in patience that burns
what of you is born to fine ash. Strike
the flint of Sura 100, Honor the one
who loses breath. And, Fire rises
where they walk. These are brave souls,
musician igniting musician. What's the
point of the chess-game world where a
pawn cuts off a king? I walk awkwardly,
but the smoke goes straight up.
Sometimes a pawn makes it to the other
side and redeems a queen. The knight
says, "Your plodding is one or two moves
for us." Judgment Day is closer than
that for everyone, one step away. The
chess king says, "Without me this motion
and figuring mean nothing. The bishop
might as well be a mosquito." Winning
and losing are the same. There's check-
mate in both. We no longer see the one
who teaches us. You could say we've
been checkmated. What happens now?
Saturday, May 24, 2014
The point of marriage is not to create a quick commonality by tearing down all boundaries; on the contrary, a good marriage is one in which each partner appoints the other to be the guardian of his solitude, and thus they show each other the greatest possible trust. A merging of two people is an impossibility, and where it seems to exist, it is a hemming-in, a mutual consent that robs one party or both parties of their fullest freedom and development. But once the realization is accepted that even between the closest people infinite distances exist, a marvelous living side-by-side can grow up for them, if they succeed in loving the expanse between them, which gives them the possibility of always seeing each other as a whole and before an immense sky.
― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Monday, February 3, 2014
Monday, January 20, 2014
Sunday, December 29, 2013
How Is It That the Snow
by Robert Haight
How is it that the snow
amplifies the silence,
slathers the black bark on limbs,
heaps along the brush rows?
Some deer have stood on their hind legs
to pull the berries down.
Now they are ghosts along the path,
snow flecked with red wine stains.
This silence in the timbers.
A woodpecker on one of the trees
taps out its story,
stopping now and then in the lapse
of one white moment into another.