buds have begun to open
– self-sown last summer.
(25 October 2013)
Switching my computer on, this morning – and committed to writing – I was in little doubt that material from my dream would find its way into the text. There was something about a woman I loved many years ago returning as a friend. And a bouquet of apparently unrelated images.
Après un rêve, I typed, attempting to impose some semblance of order on my unruly thoughts.
Nothing much came of it. But it did turn out that this morning’s “Composer of the Week” radio talk began with an instrumental arrangement of Gabriel Fauré’s lovely melodie, Après un rêve.
There are numerous versions of this song on YouTube, and some of the comments make interesting reading. I have not listened to them all, but was taken with two: the first, by Véronique Gens (Roger Vignoles, piano); and there’s a splendid version by Barbara Hendricks, accompanied by Michel Dalberto.
the gospel at noon in a
city street in spring.
(01 October 2013)
This eye-catching window (photographed moments after I heard the song of the blackbird) belongs to a boutique calling itself Jetsetbohemian. “Housed in the Victoria Street shop that Swonderful once called home, Jetsetbohemian stocks designer clothing and never-been-worn vintage. The shop itself is small, but jammed with colourful and eccentric clothes, shoes and accessories …” see the Neat Places web-site (words by Grace Hall).
I know less than I used to –
or more to the point
I newly distrust what I have known;
discard certainties, ask more
questions, live more with no answers
to old questions.
From: Knowledge by Tony Brown
On his blog, Dark Matter, Tony Brown says of himself: “A veteran of both page and stage in the poetry world, I’ve been publishing and reading in journals and on stages around the US for over thirty years.”
After many months of pondering, planning, plotting, and procrastinating, I sat down at my computer this morning and tapped out the first pages of a new novel – working title, “You Wouldn’t Dare!”
And I can’t tell you how good it felt (and still feels).
Four magpies, chortling,
descend on my garden, in-
……………….“… to wake is to lift up
Again on one’s shoulders this curious world
Whose secret cannot be known by any of us
Until we enter Te Whiro’s kingdom.”
(from Autumn Testament by James K Baxter)
Generally speaking, I’m a tolerant and compassionate person – it takes a lot to make me mad. But Thursday was an exception. My tolerance was decidedly out of order, and my compassion … who knows what happened to that?
Incipient civil war in Egypt, neurotoxins in Syria, anti-gay laws in Russia, gun-crazed killers in American schools, contaminated baby formula in China, beggars on our streets, cruelty to animals … a never-ending story of inhumanity and misery and fear. And the painkillers I’d taken seemed to be doing me no good.
“There is no mystery so great as misery,” Oscar Wilde’s Happy Prince declares. And he’s pointing to a transcendent truth.
All the great religions attempt to tackle the problem of suffering – in a variety of ways. Humanists, rationalists, and atheists too, all find themselves facing the same sorts of questions – because, of course, we all live in the same world.
In the Buddha’s words: “Suffering I teach and the way out of suffering.” (See The Buddhist Society web-site)
In a blog calling itself Wild Mind, Sunada Takagi explains that “The Buddha’s teaching on suffering is that we need to accept the things we can’t control, such as loss, sickness, aging, and death. But for things we can affect, he advised that we change our conditions so that they’re more conducive to our happiness and spiritual growth.”
Islam exhorts the faithful to endure suffering with hope and faith. They are not expected to resist it, or to ask why. Instead, they are taught to accept it as God’s will and live through it with faith that God never asks more of them than they can endure. However, Islam also teaches the faithful to work actively to alleviate the suffering of others. Recognizing that they are the cause of their own suffering, individuals work to bring suffering to an end. (Patheos Library, adapted)
Jesus, according to St John, said: “I have spoken these things to you so that you shall have peace in me. You shall have suffering in the world, but take heart, I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33; Aramaic Bible in Plain English)
Baxter’s reference to “this curious world” calls to mind the words of Henry David Thoreau: “This curious world we inhabit is more wonderful than convenient; more beautiful than it is useful; it is more to be admired and enjoyed than used.” And, like Thoreau, Baxter draws his reader’s attention to the inevitable and inescapable burden of human responsibility, human caring, human accountability: “to wake is to lift up / Again on one’s shoulders this curious world …”
I didn’t get swamped by my grumpiness. Neither did I grant it permission to assault anyone else. In the end, I simply had to lighten up and get over myself.
And (remember) when thy Lord said unto the angels: Lo! I am creating a mortal out of potter’s clay of black mud altered, (Qur’an 15:28, translated by M M Pickthall)
1/ Baxter, James Keir; Millar, Paul (editor). 2001. James K Baxter : New Selected Poems. Auckland, New Zealand: Oxford University Press.
…….— The passage from poem 7 in Autumn Testament is on page 141.
2/ “Te Whiro’s kingdom” – According to Te Ara / The Encyclopedia of New Zealand, Māori saw themselves as guardians of the earth, and the focus of their existence was to remain at one with the natural (and supernatural) world. Rather than a medical problem, sickness was often viewed as a symptom of disharmony with nature.” In a section dealing with the medicinal use of plants, Te Ara describes the god Whiro as ”a personified form of sickness, disease and death. Māori believed that sickness and disease often had spiritual roots.”
3/ In Greek mythology, Atlas was the primordial Titan who held up the celestial sphere. He is also the titan of astronomy and navigation. (Wikipedia, adapted)
4/ The first publisher to associate the Titan Atlas with a group of maps was the print-seller Antonio Lafreri, on the engraved title-page he applied to his ad hoc assemblages of maps, Tavole Moderne Di Geografia De La Maggior Parte Del Mondo Di Diversi Autori (1572). (Wikipedia, adapted)
Full moon tonight … and
already, in bright sunlight,
I’m writing haiku.