Paul Reps, an American artist, poet, and knower of Zen once wrote "Drinking a bowl of green tea, I stopped the war.
I am sitting quietly tonight, drinking green tea and smiling at the thought of stopping all wars and saving all sentient beings. I'm smiling, because I've been sitting quietly for most of the day. I've written a few poems and sketched a bit and thought about the way following my breath quiets my mind. Mind is vast, as vast as space, and when it's empty, l experience fullness. Drinking a cup of green tea.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Gray Enough for You?
It's been a cool, gray week on Steinstrasse. I've played around with some ideas for a sculpture series, dropped a few words into the slowly evolving novel, and I've written some poems which sound like Haiku. The major part of the week has centered around "Rushton and His Times in American Canoeing", one of my favorites. I love canoes, the Adirondacks, and the magnates, hermits, and madmen who fished, padded, and waded through that beautiful wilderness.
The book is a wonderful collection of tales and facts, and the repository of the recreated lofting plans for some of Rushton's best designs. I built a model of one them many years ago to see how it would look as a fiberglassed wood strip construction. My experience working with Kai and his fairytale houses has rekindled my need to build things and I think it's time I started.
I'm writing about it, because I don't want the idea to pass, like so many others have. I'll keep you posted.
The book is a wonderful collection of tales and facts, and the repository of the recreated lofting plans for some of Rushton's best designs. I built a model of one them many years ago to see how it would look as a fiberglassed wood strip construction. My experience working with Kai and his fairytale houses has rekindled my need to build things and I think it's time I started.
I'm writing about it, because I don't want the idea to pass, like so many others have. I'll keep you posted.
Monday, May 13, 2013
The Sands of Time
The Sands of Time blew back and forth for a few hours last week. l took the train over to Köln on Thursday to meet my old friend Tim Speicher. He and his wife Jo Ann have been cruising the rivers of Europe. Their ship is a little too big for the Werre, so we settled on the Rhein. Aside from the mandatory Westfälisch half hour of rain, it was a fine day.
The first sand storm hit when Tim said it had been 52 year since we first met. We were 14 and freshmen at St. Rose High School. We were also new kids on the block. Tim went to grade school in Archbald and I in Jermyn. In those days, a few miles meant a lot more than they do today, culturally, politically, and economically. Carbondale, when St. Rose was located, was a much bigger town than either of ours, and somewhat intimidating, at least, for the the first few weeks.
We survived, and 52 years later, we ate Bratwurst and Rotkohl in Köln.
On the train back to Herford, I relived a lot my life, good and bad, happy and sad. My dreams were full of ghosts that night, and I smiled on waking in a future I had never imagined, where the Sands of Time look more like dust on the furniture.
The first sand storm hit when Tim said it had been 52 year since we first met. We were 14 and freshmen at St. Rose High School. We were also new kids on the block. Tim went to grade school in Archbald and I in Jermyn. In those days, a few miles meant a lot more than they do today, culturally, politically, and economically. Carbondale, when St. Rose was located, was a much bigger town than either of ours, and somewhat intimidating, at least, for the the first few weeks.
We survived, and 52 years later, we ate Bratwurst and Rotkohl in Köln.
On the train back to Herford, I relived a lot my life, good and bad, happy and sad. My dreams were full of ghosts that night, and I smiled on waking in a future I had never imagined, where the Sands of Time look more like dust on the furniture.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
May Day, mayday
First of all, Happy May Day to all of you who celebrate it, and Happy Birthday to those born on it. As for the rest of you, a very merry unbirthday.
Some of you know that May Day is the equivalent to the American Labor Day. It's the day of the worker and we workers are not working today (at least in the factories, the restaurants and cafes are open). My plan for the day was to get up early (which I did) and go for a walk (which I didn't). It's a beautiful day, so far, with a blue sky and bright sunlight making the budding trees even more magical, and I really should be out there walking about, or at least, sitting in a sidewalk cafe drinking coffee, so I'll make this short: mayday, mayday, mayday, SOS,SOS,SOS: help me, I'm enjoying life. Shouldn't I be in some sort of existential funk? It is, after all Spring and I live alone. The ducks are paired up, the hares, the titmouses, and pigeons, and everything else that moves. Pollen is looking for a place to land, the world is mating.
Enough. I've done my part. There are two separate continua of this stream of consciousness. A male in Pennsylvania and a female in New York. Anything more would be dangerous. I'm going to rest on my laurels, and play the part of a zen monk until this body quits and I'm transferred to the waiting room. And now, it's time to drink coffee, or maybe eat ice cream. I wish you all a peaceful May Day, with no need to demonstrate or revolt against the regime. May you and your children all find comfort in their Buddha Nature.
Some of you know that May Day is the equivalent to the American Labor Day. It's the day of the worker and we workers are not working today (at least in the factories, the restaurants and cafes are open). My plan for the day was to get up early (which I did) and go for a walk (which I didn't). It's a beautiful day, so far, with a blue sky and bright sunlight making the budding trees even more magical, and I really should be out there walking about, or at least, sitting in a sidewalk cafe drinking coffee, so I'll make this short: mayday, mayday, mayday, SOS,SOS,SOS: help me, I'm enjoying life. Shouldn't I be in some sort of existential funk? It is, after all Spring and I live alone. The ducks are paired up, the hares, the titmouses, and pigeons, and everything else that moves. Pollen is looking for a place to land, the world is mating.
Enough. I've done my part. There are two separate continua of this stream of consciousness. A male in Pennsylvania and a female in New York. Anything more would be dangerous. I'm going to rest on my laurels, and play the part of a zen monk until this body quits and I'm transferred to the waiting room. And now, it's time to drink coffee, or maybe eat ice cream. I wish you all a peaceful May Day, with no need to demonstrate or revolt against the regime. May you and your children all find comfort in their Buddha Nature.
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