It was a fine Sunday to make my writing leaner, more visionary.
And then they showed up at the door.
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
It was a fine Sunday to make my writing leaner, more visionary.
And then they showed up at the door.
Walking unrushed, meaning outdoors, in fresh air, releases something within me: I feel freer. When I begin, I’m like a slightly out-of-tune violin. I enter the woods full of thoughts, problems. The office is still with me, along with many worries. The wind may scurry up leaves, and I jump and then freeze, startled that I may have scared up a large animal of some sort. Or perhaps it’s be a twisting item that resembles a snake. Sometimes the sun stings my eyes. I adjust, from one system of time and timing to another.
As I fall into a rhythm, my mind clears. Poems begin.
In the hills or mountains or along the water, the world is always fresh: sunlight on branches or water.
Most poets write of themselves or lovers or at least things around them: poetry as a conversation with yourself. Or maybe God, on a good day.
The first three cuts on my first Joan Baez album (acquired in ’62 or ’63) were classic folksongs – “Silver Daggers,” “East Virginia,” and “Fare Thee Well.” Along with a few others, like “Wildwood Flower,” they exhibit a very moving quality that comes not so much from directed words (as in “calf with a mournful eye”) but from a sum that arises outside of the text.
The lyrics themselves are dry, compressed. The songs are best sung emotionally flat, with a childlike beauty and comprehension (or lack of it). Above all, there is a kind of detachment that makes the whole thing even more touching or eternal.
From Maynard Solomon’s album liner notes: “A remarkably compressed love story. … In its four short verses loom enough tragic characters to populate an 18th century novel … the haunting and mysterious opening verse, with its claim of historical authenticity and its foreboding of personal bereavement. … Perhaps its beauty comes from its biblical connotations, for the imagery of the closing verses is related to New Testament descriptions of the Last Judgment, and the song ends with a quotation from Mark (XII,20) – ‘Till all these things be done.’ … The seemingly obscure and disconnected text is emotionally fused. … Like many another favorite from North Carolina and its neighboring states, [it] has the strange quality of rejoicing as it laments, exulting as it weeps …”
I did not yet know my family roots in North Carolina, but I have taken this, internalized, as an ideal in my own writing that has followed, not that what’s followed has manifested that way over the years. Think, too, of how her material changed.
Newspapers are mostly ads. But rarely taken out by the big-box stores.
~*~
For more, see my novel Hometown News.
VO showing the grave sites of two infants at the edge of his ravine: one stone left, the other one, dating to early 1800s, stolen …
~*~
I see now, 50-some years later, there’s actually a public-access trail around there.
~*~
Further to the east was Brown County, with its rugged geology, state and national forests, and a large state park, making it Indiana’s outdoors destination. It definitely feels like stepping back in time. I have memories of hiking and camping there as a Boy Scout, even before my explorations during the time covered in my return to the university.

Hiking trail photograph by Kgirischandra via Wikimedia Commons.


Panorama views by Elizabeth Nicodemus via Wikipedia Commons.
I had friends who lived in log cabins, which remain in widespread use in the southern part of the state.



Greed, hatred, and illusion.
Leading to 84,000 kinds of defilement.
I didn’t mean to get political. Take it as Buddhist fact.
When we sit silently in worship, clouds that separate us may evaporate, allowing us closer to oneness, our own fullness, which is the essence of God.
The closer we get to Truth, the more tolerant and understanding we become of others. There can be no lasting revolution in the world until we’ve changed ourselves, as in reborn or liberated or enlightened, even self-realized.
The varying teachings “were provided to suit the different needs and temperaments of various people … If there were no human beings, there would be no Dharmas; hence we know that all Dharmas are made for men …” The Sixth Patriarch again, I presume.
“Learned Audience, those who recite the word ‘prajana’ the whole day long do not seem to know that prajna is inherent in their own nature. But merely talking on food will not appease hunger, and this is exactly the case with these people. … Talking alone will not enable us to realize the Essence of the Mind, and it serves no purpose in the end.” – Hui Heng, the Sixth Patriarch of Zen, “having taken his seat and asked the assembly to purify their minds collectively.”
The Patriarch again: “Do not talk about the ‘Void’ all day without practicing it in the mind. One who does this may be likened to a self-styled king who is really a commoner. Prajna can never be attained this way. ….”
How I feel listening to so many sermons or radio-evangelist preachers.
“Prajna [Truth] does not vary with different persons; what makes the difference is whether one’s mind is enlightened or deluded.”