YES, AQUARIUS

Why wait for the dust to settle? Here are 10 bullets from my end.

~*~

  1. Since we don’t put up a Yule tree and decorate it until Christmas Eve, ours stays on display longer than any of our neighbors’. The lights make January a less forbidding stretch. Make it more festive and relaxing. So what do you do special this otherwise cold, dark month?
  2. She’s really at home in a grocery store. Knows all the comparative prices, what’s a bargain, what’s special. Not so in other retail settings. Still, you should see our pantry. Or the two big freezers in the barn.
  3. Swami had long ago said I didn’t need a job (I’m an old soul) because that’s not the work I should be offering. That was long, long ago.
  4. How often does it seem: Fashion = Money … along with the race for something better?
  5. Would I be satisfied with a single-line poem that said everything? Stake my reputation on it?
  6. Considering all the hours I put in on my “personal writing” over the years – the poetry and fiction, especially, or genealogy and Quaker fare – it would have added up to a lot of overtime pay. Even at 10 hours a week, though I suspect with vacations and holidays thrown in, the average would have been closer to 20. I’d really have to land a bestseller to come anywhere close to recouping that investment.
  7. The frustration of my twilight years in journalism, seeing us increasingly pander to stupidity, ignorance, and hatred rather than trying to lead and enlighten.
  8. As the funeral director told me, “We hate holidays. Holidays suck.”
  9. Fortune cookie: You will make many changes before settling satisfactorily.
  10. Can this really be happening to America? Or the world?

~*~

 

Looks like white-painted architectural touches to me.
Still looks like white-painted architectural touches to me.

 

HOW ABOUT A SUTRA?

As I revisit my copy of The Diamond Sutra and the Sutra of Hui Neng, the binding falls apart. How appropriate! The price, $2.95, says everything: this is a volume that has been carried from one end of the continent to the other and back, with a world of spiritual practice and discovery in between.

A sutra typically is a Hindu or Buddhist teacher’s discourse for aspirants.

The scarab, a symbol of ancient Egypt, originates as a beetle, By extension, it also becomes a symbol of transportation in the hippie era, leaping from there to the Hindu and Buddhist texts and back.

Break away from routine – job, home, neighborhood and friends, the commerce of community – just long enough to let the mind clear. Don’t fill the silences with radio, conversation, any music or dialogue but your own. From somewhere deep in the nervous system, atypical even random bits of memory and observation rise in unanticipated sequence. What ought to have been obvious all along suddenly asserts itself, perhaps with bold surrealism or jarring candor.

In a flash, the mind dances, as it will, with whatever engages it. Field notes, the words themselves, appear unadorned, without apology. Here something other than straight thinking presents its original mental hopscotch.

To a generation of Americans, the Volkswagen Bug represents cheap, easily repaired, carefree transport – often accompanied by adventurous first-time experiences and personal growth. In ways, the plain VW depicts a break between the routines of schooling and establishing families and careers to follow. A time, too, of spiritual exploration, with a flowering of Yoga and Zen, especially.

Here, then, the machine serves as a vessel into the Void, where the mind glimpses and tastes “all this fleeting world: a star at dawn; a flash of lightning in a summer cloud; a flickering lamp, a phantom, and a dream,” in the words the Diamond Sutra (Vajrachchedika).

Listen to this teaching. As Hui Neng insists, “Mirror-like Wisdom is pure by nature.” And persevere!

~*~

Ripples in a Bejeweled Prayer Flag
Ripples in a Bejeweled Prayer Flag

Well, these are all at play in my newest poetry collection, Ripples in a Bejeweled Prayer Flag. Take a look at Thistle/Flinch editions.

STARTING OUT BEHIND ONCE AGAIN

The mind dances here and there, rarely in a linear fashion. So what’s on my mind these days? How about counting on these fingers?

~*~

  1. This month’s annual perusal of seed catalogs leads to opening our shoeboxes of seeds themselves – counting and inspecting all the packets remaining from previous seasons. Makes for quite an impressive array, even if I’m not the principal gardener. Just listen to all that considered discussion and dreaming on the part of the actual planters, the mother and daughter and their friends.
  2. Even in retirement, I require a timetable – a to-do list – some sense of priorities and direction, in addition to routine. What does that say about me?
  3. From spam email: “Man Snake Enlargement.” Also, “Man Pole.” (Um, like a May Pole?) English terms pale by comparison.
  4. My Motets move in poetic processes that largely lack images. It’s a curious twist for me.
  5. At a holiday gathering with friends and family, one of the tots picks up my Peterson bird guide. Claudia intercepts it, opens it, and, as if it’s an illustrated children’s text, begins inventing a story. “This is Emily. And what’s this duck doing? It’s FLYING! And this one …” Anyone else think there’s another book waiting to take off there?
  6. Taking a few risks, looking at the proposal and rules. If I fail, it’s more on my own terms.
  7. Memory, as counterpoint and harmony for the present. Or maybe dissonance and discord.
  8. Still can’t take in the news.
  9. Parasite: a freeloader, usually fatal. Lives off the work of others. Seldom demonstrates gratitude or other qualities of good upbringing.
  10. What happens when we lose our sense of mission?

~*~

Fennel seeds dusted in snow.
Fennel seeds dusted in snow. Our herb garden at rest.

 

A DESERT AND A SEA

A hundred miles inland from the nearest port, we encountered a three-legged tree. Until looking closer after being told the house beside it was built a century earlier by a retired sea captain, you’d have no clue a whale jaw had been leaned against the young trunk, where they grew together.

Irrigated, of course, this being desert.

The question remained. Who was farther from true home?

For more insights from the American Far West and Kokopelli, click here.

 

 

TURNS, FROM THE PAGE

1

once more, flipping a month, a year
another mountain, loon, lighthouse, tulip

markers of days and flowing

history or future encoded

as numerals, this imprecise bank ledger
with moon phases

occasionally with a comfort of knowing I’ve been there
or desire to go
or recollection of encountering what’s pictured

as for next month or next year
no matter how carefree
the intended journey or dreaming
some map or guiding is essential

unless we’re simply floating
and who knows, then

2

still, the clearest water remains a mask
moving, breathing
more than land

with the preponderance of life
on land, atop
in water, below

while the intertidal zones
open to interpretation

3

each tide
a page that turns back on itself

enigmas

a reminder of holy spaces
we enter rarely, if ever

point behind point
without end

 Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of seacoast poems,
click here.

YOGIS

The old swami was only fifty-one, I see now.
He thought Helene and I both were way too skinny.

The cookies my mother, an inept cook, shipped
went to class anyway. The break, after a workout.
“You moved away from this? You’re nuts!”

“Breathe as if you’re a sponge,” Loretta encouraged.

Life is different when the mind controls the breath.

“You are the most interesting person you’ll ever meet,”
Guru-dev insisted. “Stand in your own Light,
not others’.”

Or stand on your own head, before falling over.

“People leave us alone,” the young bride radiated.
“We pacifists are no fun to fight with.”

An exchange of floral garlands
made a wedding.

When the husband chanted,
he sounded like a puppy
first thing in the morning.

This would be as close as I would get to India
from Ohio.

To continue, click here.
Copyright 2015

NAGGING QUESTION

I’ve been trying to avoid one nagging question: How does your faith make you a different person? How has it changed your life? Followed by: How do others perceive this?

The old Quaker testimonies presented faith as a matter of the way we live. Our “sufferings” for our beliefs. (It matters THAT much!) The days when Friends lived “under discipline” – language and clothing as outward expressions – remaining inescapable.

So what about today? How does being Quaker (or whatever your faith) make you not just different, but a better person than you would have otherwise been?

~*~

Seasons 1

For more of my reflections, click here.

 

CONSIDER

Think of our tradition of traveling with a “minute of concern” or of traveling in free-Gospel ministry. So wonderful to revive.

For example:

AFTER THE MANNER

in my travels, presenting
a minute of introduction and approval
even after a stupefaction
“what are we supposed to do with this?”
I’ll explain
this ancient custom revived

what pleasure to meet others also
in public ministry
and encourage the same

~*~

some places their messages will trouble
though many resist

some find
comfort and rest

some hold fast where they wrestle
inwardly and out

~*~

as one clerk endorsed my letter after worship
another Friend announced he’d just received
approval to visit fellow scientists in Siberia
and a voice cried out, “Do you have a minute from Meeting?”

and one was drafted
and approved on the spot

as a start . renewed

poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson

 ~*~

Motets 1

For more poems and other books, click here.