my face – my mother’s face
lingering scent of sweet peas
Stay at Home Order … day 9 plus 14 seclusion retreat days
So remote the mountains
the only callers to break
the tedium of my window
are top branches of sumac
just starting to change color
~Saigyō (cited: B Watson, Poems of a Mountain Home)
Nikon D750 f/1.8 1/4000s 35mm 200 ISO
What is faith: a wholesome mental formation
belief, credence, credit, trust, hope, confidence, sureness, certainty, reliance, dependence, acceptation, reception, credulity, suspension of disbelief
The absence of faith is suffering. This time of uncertainty “…has brought me to a place and time in which to unweave and sort through the pseudo-beliefs I have simply, without question, absorbed through the lens of childhood fantasy and comprehension. To begin this process is to reformulate beliefs through a process of mindfulness and analysis and then to know for myself, “These things are bad, blamable, censured by the wise; undertaken and observed, these things lead to harm and ill… These things are good, blameless, praised by the wise… These things lead to benefit and happiness.”
“It is not an easy undertaking to not simply believe what has been learned within family, school and church as well as conclusions reached through readings. The invitation to not simply follow tradition brings to the surface conflicts with compliance and opposition that come from an avalanche of values and guiding principles that outlines how I understand the roles and expectations of women.
“To not adhere to that which was surmised within family stories about an ancestor, who upon seeing a swarm of locust “knelt in his patch of grain and pleaded with his Maker to spare his wheat” and then saw them divide and not damage his remaining crops. Or within the story about the ancestor, who during a trip from New York to England, calmed the seas with a prayer, and while in England, after much fasting and prayer administered to a deaf and dumb boy who was subsequently healed. To not simply believe opens a door of pondering about generations of family members who intimately knew powerlessness and insecurity, who eased their feelings of incompetence through prayer, and whose conceptions blinded them to their neighbors’ plight.
“To not simply believe that I must endure suffering is to reject the axiom that there is an absence of fundamental faith and goodness. To not adhere to the assumed abilities of ancestors frees me from the belief that a sincere act of making amends for my sins will open the doors to Shangri-La. To not simply draw upon scripture unbinds me to the shame that I don’t have the faith – even of the size of a mustard seed – to be deeded as “good and without sin” so what I wish for, even that which goes counter to nature’s laws, will be granted. To ease the suffering within discontent is to not simply hold to be true that I am to acquiesce to pain until the final judgment of death, and only then will I be forever at peace, or forever condemned to an existence of even greater suffering.
“To not simply believe opens my ears to the incongruence within a belief in an all-knowing presence who, if not validated, punishes, absent of the grace within loving-kindness. To not simply believe brings a compassionate acknowledgment to the painful efforts to sway God into granting me my desires through bargaining, sacrifice, negation, and suffering, and to finally surrender with acceptance to “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” To not simply believe sheds light upon the greed, aversion, and delusions that are intertwined into my conception of and relationship with life.
“I do hold that my beliefs and the subsequent desire for their illusive promises of validation, forgiveness, or reunification have set me upon an unending path of suffering. These beliefs lead to harm and ill as they are like thorns that tear into my heart. This searing pain releases resentment intertwined with envy, awakens alienation, and denies me the essence of Christ’s wisdom and loving compassion.
“Christ stood before self-righteous anger and commanded that only the one without sin was to cast the first stone of punishment and, at another time and in the midst of his own suffering, sought forgiveness for those who “know not what they do.” Within these written words, I hear compassion speaking for the suffering intertwined within anger ungoverned by moral shame and moral dread. Compassion is telling us how suffering, entangled into knots of mental, emotional, and social turmoil, deafens us to our guiding principles and blinds us to the horrors our moral shame will witness as it awakens from darkened ignorance.”*
The practice of the presence of God as being
comparable to that of consciousness
finally makes possible “full awareness” applied
to every thought, world, and deed.
*cited: BC Koeford, A Meditative Journey with Saldage
The east wind waits before East Gate,
While we ride horses seeking the old glen.
Men, like wild geese, keep the promise of return,
While the past, like a spring dream, leaves no trace. …~Su Shi
When, with an awakened heart,
this world is only a dream,
a child’s smile revives joy.
This world is only a dream…submitted in response to Debbie’s (Travel with Intent) six-word musing challenge.
You can learn about the pine only from the pine, or about the bamboo only from bamboo. When you see an object, you must leave your subjective pre-occupation with yourself; otherwise you impose yourself on the object, and do not learn. The object and yourself must become one, and from that feeling of oneness issues your poetry. However well phrased it may be, if your feeling is not natural—if the object and our self are separate—then your poetry is not true poetry but merely your subjective counterfeit.
Keith Kenniff is an American composer, multi-instrumentalist, and electronic music producer. He composes ambient/electronic music under the moniker Helios and post-classical piano music under Goldmund.
What is it? Something sought by everyone? Suddenly it splits me in two.
I feel free to walk anywhere, at least for now. I stride over the distant past.
Sometime ago, in a silence stronger than soy beans popping in the pan.
Hope? Waiting for footsteps? Perhaps to become a Heian court lady
surrounded by a screen of illusions waiting for some prince?
Or is it the prayer of a wife in war-time, anxious for her man in the field?
Don’t say it rises like a spinning wheel without hitting all the rungs.
Is it resolution? The blazing blue fame of mothers secretly resisting their patriarchs?
But I can’t get by on that alone. Why not simply break out?
I only have to get the rhythm down to fly through the day to day.
Like a pilot, astronaut I too am in a capsule, though.
Women Poets of Japan
K Rexroth & Ikuko Atsumi
blossoms at dusk
Haiku before Haiku
Trans: S Carter
and the village floods
The early spring’s setting sun united with the sound of children…Half-Light
and in breath-
know that they are
proof that the world
Sky Above, Great Wind
these hot summer days
continue…but how far away
those days called Long Ago