#Meditation on Lonely Grasper
No Doer
something's starting
that is the source
starting
something's ending
that is the source
ending
global
what started
local
what stopped
relationship
relational
in dependence
inter dependent
patterns
exchanged across membrane
never not inside/outside
always companioned heat/air
Vairocana posture
is not a held position
instead held reserve
****
still no doer
a virus
borrowing the cell
new keeper smuggled inside
where did the first go
where is the second's abode
cell signal
I am not of you
when is the virus
known only as an invader
i see no agent
dna/rna action
impossible without the partition
*****
lonely grasper
a virus may sit homeless
yet acts to take a home
a grasping that says mine
continuity in the naked code
Seeing cells as coherent many
adds nothing
form does not filter
an act
when that what lies beneath
denies the actor
information
it is not the knowing
which remaining unchanged
information cannot be shown as a view
the result called known
a self
bleeds its destruction
defense of self —
ligand trigger
not so
neighbors building walls
Helper cell plague
Inner macro(phage) reservoir
Vulnerable
all walls left to crumble
continuity is mindless
spreading without jurisdiction
wondering sometimes
am "i" only named
as to take the blame
*****
never knowing
there is no keep for the knower
costly to hold
unordered perimeter
eroding the boundary
is there a mind
capable enough
to order the collapse impending
experience dictated
imperatives impossible to deny
consciousness claims a center
where is the definition
of center
as the edge no longer appears
a virus is at least honest
surprisingly so
it seams the apparatus as its own
yet never claims
to be something other
that is where consciousness
if found
dances alone
Connecting Haibun
蓮始開 hasu hajimete hiraku, "lotus begins to open"
I thought you should know. Surprisingly honest, the river while never the same, erodes the bank of this isle, leaving no trace of where I once stood. The daily companionship of death is not the idea of a walking corpse carrying its casket as a morbid picture of this life. The casket is not the boat, that for two coins, will then carry you across to some pure land shore. Death is neither companion nor tour guide. It is not even a shadow that Wendy might repair. Not even a challenge to cessation, how can death end when death denies holding any beginning? Death cannot pose as a termination when what has preceded did not arise from death.
children scream at night
when does the frog never croak
boogeyman 'neath bed
This July is passing quickly. Phases of the heart leave their wake. Consciousness streaming wrestling sons. I suppose stray thoughts will always haunt my writing. But they mean something to me, a reminder that dense prose, a snow cap on magic mountain, with so many, many words, has never made, for me, a pleasant evening over a gin and tonic. I choose Basho and the renga. The medications for easing a diabetic heart prevent my imbibing anything but his words, yet those words are clear soju. I am in solidarity with his direction to enjoin in karumi as the better practice. The frog doth both splash and croak. Isn't the archaic just so much fun. All his life, nature was the subject taught and nature provided the teaching, and for me, none of his works, that I can read, mentioned consciousness. Well, some others may argue that he does. But I think karumi guides his finger toward poking at the eye rather than pointing at the moon.
~この道や
行く人なしに
秋の暮
kono michi ya / yuku hito nashi ni / aki no kure
a path
not taken by anyone
autumn's branch
1694 Basho (my karumi with a touch of frost)
My jisei is written in this form: a mix of verse and Haibun. A hope that those attendant will see that I have written jisei from the beginning. The haibun is my vanity and it is my stretch. The sabi of this time of my life is not imagined and it is all too realized. I have a deep felt kindred with Basho and in my paraphrasing: "with visitors my words are wasted, and those with whom I might visit, my words waste their time. Firmly I should close my door, a man of my age should be able to keep his own discipline."
don't pretend you know
wisdom's blaring blah, blah, blah
old dogs' fangs missing
鷹乃学習 taka sunawachi waza o narau, "young hawks learn to fly," closing Minor Heat
death ignores the edge
a boundary
it has never held
that I have persisted
medical wonders
are what:
kept me going
there is more
which distance never read
saying
the door may close
i cannot feign isolation
not one, not two
i am disciplined in my practice
not wanting for more
warm stone at my breast
3 bowls hold the meal
all that is received
complete
as it is
enough
Colophon
The work is personal. The material here is original arising directly from my sitting contemplation. It is protected under Any Note Press. It’s publication here permits no commercial use. All rights are reserved. It is offered for the benefit of one’s practice and nothing else.
Notes that might be of interest
於春々大哉春と云々
ah haru haru
ōinaru kana haru
to un nun
My karumi paraphrase:
Ah blossoms, blossoms
How great the blossoms
etcetera
If boredom and writer’s block get in your way, enjoy this Basho moment from (Spring, 1680 Edo, age 37). He continued to pen haiku for another 14 years until the moment of his death. The pressure to find something original to say is always present. His haiku was a parody of Mi Fu’s poem about Confucius.
The haiku below has been assigned by scholars as written in the autumn of 1691. I am sure that this correct. However, the hawk is traditionally a summer Ko. Japanese revision (1685) of the Chinese Ko (kept only the “young hawks learning to fly” which is now in July). From the Ko guide then the hawk is not traditionally associated with Autumn. It is the quail that carries the late autumn in the poem. It is also a bit more complex in that the hawk is associated with the elite Samurai and falconry. The quail for its meat, eggs, and song is more of the land. And this poem seems more directly associated with the Chinese Ko • 鷹乃祭鳥 — “the hawk sacrifices birds,” first hou of 處暑 (late August). Basho would be familiar with the Chinese version. It is also interesting because the hawk being out of season is “blind” to the quail so to speak.
鷹の目も
今や暮れぬと
鳴く鶉
Taka no me mo
Imaya kurenu to
Naku uzura
My Karumi paraphrase
Hawk eyes indeed
at dusk fall blind
quails tease