Alexandersmap

    Category: Poetry

    • A Garden Monk Sips Coffee

      A monk sips morning tea,
      it’s quiet,
      the chrysanthemum’s flowering.
      — Matsuo Bashō

      The mornings are chilly again, and unlike Bashō’s poem, full of the sounds of squirrels gathering food and bickering about who gets what. The water is warmer than the air, for the sun is reluctant to stick around so long nowadays. The seasons are flipping, just as surely as the hickory nuts are falling.

      I think about the fall cleanup and shudder. Is it the chill in the air or the thought of forced labor to come? We dream of autumn for all its beauty, for the crisp air and the scent of fallen leaves. We forget about the work. We pay penance for the pleasure.

      I promised myself I’d drink more tea this summer. I planned to use more of the mint spilling out of its terra cotta pot in an attempt to displace the basil in the neighboring pot. Yet the drink of choice is most often coffee. Does coffee nullify my monk inclinations, or does the ritual matter more? Ask the flowers—for they’ve quietly observed all summer.

      For all the changes, some things remain the same.

    • To Grow and Know

      “With each encounter with truth one draws nearer to reaching communion with it.” — Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

      What resonates? Doesn’t it change moment-to-moment as we ourselves change? As the world offers lessons, from subtle and brutal? Just what is our truth, our first principle?

      We try to arrive by sorting. We must process the world as it comes to us, and indeed, encounter the things that challenge our worldview. Assumptions and beliefs fall aside for the willing truth seeker. We must find and embrace each encounter for all that it offers us. Like the body adapting to exercise, the stronger mind is capable of handling even more challenges. Each challenge in turn makes us stronger (if we don’t let them destroy us).

      The truth is, we are alone on this journey. Surely friends and family offer support, mentors guidance, and those who came before us breadcrumbs to follow (or ignore), but this is our vision quest. We follow the winding path and see the changes in ourselves as we climb.

      She has seen me changing
      It ain’t easy rearranging
      And it gets harder as you get older
      Farther away as you get closer
      And I don’t know the answer
      Does it even matter?
      I’m wonderin’ how
      — Crosby, Stills & Nash, See the Changes

      We ought to leave our own breadcrumbs. For the conversation to continue with those we love, and those we’ll never meet, we must draw from ourselves and leave it for the world to accept or ignore. It’s not ours to choose, but when we suck the marrow out of life and gleen the wisdom of the ages our voice becomes more compelling.

      We won’t ever fully arrive at the truth. We might accomplish some noteworthy things, reach conclusions that resonate, grow closer than we ever thought possible to certain people while remaining dissatisfied and chagrined at the ones that got away… but we never will fully arrive. Still, we ought to be satisfied in the end that we gave it a go to grow and know. And to celebrate the journey wherever it leads us.

    • Every Day Has Something

      Everything that was broken has
      forgotten its brokenness. I live
      now in a sky-house, through every
      window the sun. Also your presence.
      Our touching, our stories. Earthy
      and holy both. How can this be, but
      it is. Every day has something in
      it whose name is Forever.
      — Mary Oliver, Everything That Was Broken

      Nobody said life was supposed to be a happily ever after greatest hits package of days to remember. Yet even the most tedious, frustratingly mundane days offers a gift of timelessness. We only have this one, no matter how it goes, and ought to celebrate the smallest sparkle of light just as we celebrate the highlight reel moments that come along, however so infrequently.

      The artists, poets and some not-always-so-poetic blog writers share one thing in common; an appreciation for the moment at hand. For every day has something to offer, should we go looking for it. Every moment offers a gift of possibility. What will forever look like today?

    • Making Room

      Things!
      Burn them, burn them! Make a beautiful
      fire! More room in your heart for love,
      for the trees! For the birds who own
      nothing—the reason they can fly.
      — Mary Oliver, Storage

      We talk of downsizing. Simplifying. Getting rid of stuff that doesn’t matter in favor of that which matters very much: Elbow room for the body and soul.

      Leaving the anchor behind and setting course for adventure! Clearing the runway and lightening the load! Surely there’s liberation in releasing the weight of years of accumulation: stuff, beliefs and biases, people trying to hold you to what you once were.

      What do we cling to that is holding us back from soaring?

    • Turning Inward for Answers

      He went to Paris
      Looking for answers
      To questions that bothered him so
      — Jimmy Buffett, He Went to Paris

      “As we grow old, the beauty steals inward.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

      And now I will tell you the truth.
      Everything in the world
      comes.
      At least, closer.
      And, cordially.
      — Mary Oliver, Where Does the Temple Begin, Where Does It End?

      It struck me reading a book on Existentialism that it’s almost impossible to arrive at enlightenment and sagacity when life becomes relentlessly hectic. Try absorbing deep thoughts from another era when you’re exhausted and grabbing a few pages in between commitments and sleep. We’re all so damned busy that we don’t take the time to understand the universe, let alone ourselves. The maze might have a beginning and an end, but we get so caught up finding the cheese that we forget to figure out where we are.

      Busy never answers, busy avoids answers.

      As we stack experiences one atop the other, do we take the time to sort them into insight? We spend so much time focused on becoming and belonging that we short the time required to being. The quest for answers never really ends, but we can edge closer to that which resonates for us. It seems the benefit of aging is capturing the time that eluded us when we were younger to sit with deep thoughts, reflect on the universe and find ourself.

      The real question is, why do we wait so long to sift through the answers?

    • Forgetting the Old Myths

      “We have no reason to mistrust our world, for it is not against us. If it has terrors, they are our own terrors. If it has precipices, they belong to us. If dangers are present, we must try to love them: And if we fashion our life according to that principle, which advices us to embrace that which is difficult, then that which appears to us to be the very strangest will become the most worthy of our trust, and the truest.

      How could we be capable of forgetting the old myths that stand at the threshold of all mankind, myths of dragons transforming themselves at the last moment into princesses? Perhaps all dragons in our lives are really princesses just waiting to see us just once be beautiful and courageous. Perhaps everything fearful is basically helplessness that seeks our help.”       — Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

      The latter part of this quote is making its second appearance in this blog, following a post in September 2019 when all of us were different people than we are now. I wonder, if I were to use it again in 2025, who might we all be then? Will we be more beautiful and courageous in our work? Will we embrace our personal terrors and ride them to greater heights? Or will dragons roam our minds, tricking us into timidity?

      The Latin word vocō means to “call, summon or beckon in our own voice”. From it we’ve derived the English word vocation. We often get trapped in that classic question of identity: “What do you do for work?” Isn’t the bolder question, the question that creates a stir, “What is your calling?” Words, used just so, invoke myths or magic.

      The old myths survive because we nurture them. We must be bold with our today, and slay our dragons. We must celebrate the path that brought us here but not be imprisoned by what will never be again. We must decide what we’ll be tomorrow and set the table for it today. We must create new myths.

    • Garden Blessings

      Ah, yet, ere I descend to the grave
      May I a small house and large garden have;
      And a few friends, and many books, both true,
      Both wise, and both delightful too!
      And since love ne’er will from me flee,
      A Mistress moderately fair,
      And good as guardian angels are,
      Only beloved and loving me.
      — Abraham Cowley, The Wish

      The air is filled with squeaky chirps and the buzzing sound of wings beating the warm morning air, announcing that the bluebirds of June were replaced by the hummingbirds of July. They remind me that the garden, despite early neglect, still dazzles, inspires and informs. The frenetic urgency of the hummingbirds to feed brings life to the midsummer garden, just when it most needs a lift.

      It’s sometimes easy to forget the things we build around us that attract nuance and substance. We build our lives on the four cornerstones of relationships, legacy, learning and action. Each in turn determines who we might become as we build our life atop this foundation. Like the birds flirting briefly with the garden, people come and go from our lives. Jobs and money and fashion come and go. We each note the changes, but how we react is determined by who we’ve grown to be.

      What is a garden but a foundation? We stake our place in this world to cultivate our hopes and dreams as life changes around us like the seasons. Each season brings enchantment, frustration, context and acceptance. We become what we cultivate, influenced by the seasons but not always determined by them. Everything has its time, and the blessings in our lives must be realized in their own season.

    • Mouth Shut, Mind Open

      Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.
      Cleverness is mere opinion, bewilderment is intuition.
      — Rumi

      I had it all wrong when I was younger. I was a poser, trying to come off as someone who was on top of his game, overtly clever in my response, the one with all the answers. I knew nothing and learned nothing. It took a few years of ego knocking to start listening more and talking less. And sure, I’m still a work in progress like every other soul bouncing around the pinball machine of life.

      Cleverness denotes having it all figured out. None of us have it all figured out. We just acquire a few skills, a bit of street smarts and maybe some trivia to throw around at parties. If there is wisdom that comes with age, it’s generally learning to keep your mouth shut and open your mind instead. Life is learned on the fly.

      The point is, we’re all better off bewildered and trying to figure things out. Learning is a lifetime adventure, and we reach the end knowing we haven’t come close to knowing everything. Anyone who tells you they’ve figured it all out is expressing an opinion of themself. It might seem clever but it’s rarely more than a statement of where they are in their own development.

      This blog documents that work in progress, nothing more. It’s an attempt to document what I pick up along the way. I get a bit defensive when people I know talk about it with me, because it isn’t me at all, but a breadcrumb I left behind on the trail. It may be a part of me, but it’s distinctly apart from me. Otherwise it would be nothing but clever.

    • Seeing the Magic

      Who can you tell in this world
      That when a dog runs up to you
      Wagging its ecstatic tail,
      You lean down and whisper in its ear,
      “Beloved,
      I am so glad You are happy to see me.
      Beloved,
      I am so glad,
      So very glad You have come.”
      — Hafiz, I Am So Glad

      Our spin through life is fraught with dangerous influences and evil spirits. It’s also filled with magical moments and joyful bits. Our lives are based on the stories we tell ourselves. If we become what we focus on the most, why aren’t more of us looking for the magic in our moments instead of the misery? Why are despair and disgust so prevalent, while delight and wonder are so quickly cast aside as frivolous pursuits? Who said the worst news of the day has to be our reality?

      This isn’t a call for us to collectively sink our heads in the sand. We all absorb the collective hits of the darkness enveloping parts of this world. But quietly running parallel to that darkness is progressive enlightenment. The rage that drives the very worst to action is fueled by that progress. So many prefer to focus on scarcity or the myth of the good old days instead of rolling up their sleeves and getting on with lifting our collective standards now. These are the good old days, despite the encroaching shadows.

      Hafiz saw God in a wagging tail. There’s magic in each moment, waiting for us to notice. This may seem trivial, but I’d argue that it’s essential. We lift our spirit when we feel the warm breeze on our skin, hear the song of a bird hidden in a tree, and when we see the universe in the wag of a tail. There will always be maddening news, while the timeless universe spins onward indifferent to our plight.

      The world is full of hope and despair, magic and misery. We find what we look for, and become what we focus on. The question forever will be: What do you see?

    • Emptying the Noise Bucket

      Wherever I am, the world comes after me.
      It offers me its busyness. It does not believe
      that I do not want it. Now I understand
      why the old poets of China went so far and high
      into the mountains, then crept into the pale mist.
      — Mary Oliver, The Old Poets of China

      We’re all busy, and compounding our generally hectic lives, the world wants our full attention. It throws attention-grabbing headlines, distressing developments, and plenty of opinion about all of it at us and wants us to join the maddening chorus. Surely these are troubling days that shouldn’t be ignored. And as citizens of the world we must pay attention and work to improve our general lot. But, like our mobile devices that long ago became an extension of our brains, we should never forget to recharge our batteries regularly.

      “To become empty is to become one with one with the divine—this is the Way.” — Aza Kenzo

      When our focus turns to the noise outside we don’t hear our inner voice. We lose our compass heading. We miss a beat. And in that lapse our best work—our purpose, suffers. We must empty the bucket of noise and fill the void with silence. Luckily, solitude is just a walk or a garden full of weeds away. Simply leave that phone behind, step away from the noise and listen to yourself for awhile. We don’t owe the world all of our time, no matter how much it insists upon it.

      “The music is not in the notes, but in the silence between.” — Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

      The thing is, that bucket of noise is going to keep filling up, no matter how much we try to empty it. As Mozart structured his symphonies, we ought to structure the music of our own lives. The magic isn’t in the noise at all, but in the silence in between. If we wish for more magic in our lives, if we wish to compose something that transcends the chatter of everyday life, if we simply wish to reset our jittery compass, then we must empty the noise bucket and dance with the silence left behind.