In Vain a Flying Chirp . . .

It's Freya's day . . .

The whole world is a series of miracles,

but we're so used to seeing them

that we call them ordinary things. – Hans Christian Anderson

Yu Xuanji was a 2500 year old Daoist priestist and poet. She was mentored by Wen Tingyn, himself the seminal poet of their time preceding the emergence of the Zen masters who probably read what little of her poetry remains then as now.

To Wen Tingyun on a Winter's Night

How unbearable, rummaging for poems

to read aloud beneath my lamp

on this long sleepess night …

I peek through the silk curtains

and pity the sinking moon …

Living inclusion, I don't just

nest in the phoenix's tree –

as the sun goes down

chirping sparrows circle the woods in vain.

– Yu Xuanji, in Yin Mountain: The Immortal Poetry of Three Daoist Women, transl. by Peter Levitt and Rebecca Nie, Shambhala, 2022.

Writing about poetry

acceds to a meta-poetry –

not unlike this present

feeble attempt, like Yu Xuanji

searching for poems to read in her bed

before sleep while chirping sparrows

circle the forest in vain for thousands of years.

— jab

We are verbs, not nouns . . .

It's Thor's day . . . the short walk to the mailbox revealed the day ahead as one with sun, wind, but no thunder.

Contrary to a few opinions, Garrison Keillor was not raised entirely by a pack of Coyotes.

So, how long have humans been around . . .

So, how about humans and our other animal relatives? Mirabai Starr recently posted a reflection on the spiritual nature of that relationship.

So, finally, what does Ithaca really mean?

Considering life in terms of verbs instead of nouns is an enormous part of the letting go process.

The author of Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie, was born today in 1860 Krriemuir, Angus, Scotland.

Billy Joel turns 75 today. The singer,songwriter, pianist, recording artist was born in 1949,Bronx, New York. The "Piano Man" has sold over 160 million records worldwide and won five Grammy Awards (so far) among a long list of accolades.

And, FYI, yesterday afternoon, I had a delightful chat with my soon to be publisher (Gloria) at Cervena Barva Press. “Unless Rain” is still on their to-be-launched-date-pending-but-'really'-soon, to-do list. Stay tuned, while I continue with my mindful breathing.

Second Wind

You probably don’t want to hear advice from someone else
But I wouldn’t be telling you if I hadn’t been there myself
It’s alright, it’s alright
Sometimes that’s all it takes
We’re only human
We’re supposed to make mistakes
But I survived all those long lonely days
When it seemed I did not have a friend
Cause all I needed was a little faith
So I could catch my breath and face the world again
Don’t forget your second wind
Sooner or later you’ll feel that momentum kick in.

— Billy Joel

Art in the dark . . .

It's Odin's day . . . and the New Moon continues to bring us neer-befores …

Breath is the very first thing we give to this world

and the very last thing we are allowed to take from it.

Breathing is what we do before we understand

a single thing about our world, and the last thing

we will do despite all of our hard-earned wisdom. – David Whyte

David Attenborough is 98 years young today. The English broadcaster, writer, and naturalist was born today in 1926, London, England.

Sophie's found a nest . . .

Another still young'un, Gary Snyder, is 94 years young today. The poet, essayist, lecturer, and environmental activist was born on this day in 1930 San Francisco.

And, novelist Thomas Pynchon turns 87 today. The born Thomas Ruggles Pynchon Jr. Considered one of the 20th century's most gifted writers, and certainly one of its most elusive, he was born today in 1937 Glen Cove, New York. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Pynchon

Entre chien et loup (Between dog and wolf) Making art in the dark.

No stupid literature, art or music lasts. And that's a good thing. Turns out: Wanting and liking are not the same emotions.

The Maverick Bar

I went into the Maverick Bar

In Farmington, New Mexico.

And drank double shots of bourbon

backed with beer.

My long hair was tucked up under a cap

I’d left the earring in the car.

America—your stupidity.

I could almost love you again.

We left—onto the freeway shoulders—

under the tough old stars—

In the shadow of bluffs

I came back to myself,

To the real work, to

“What is to be done.”

– Gary Snyder