Tag Archives: Tao

On Chopin

 

What does it take
To write like Chopin
Seamlessly blending two voices
One steady, one light but sad
Complement, overlay one another
Right and left hands
High and low
Yin and yang
Together expressing
The integral beauty, and tragedy, and beauty in tragedy
Joy and laughter that it is to be human
It pains it pleases it pauses
It hits highs
It goes lows
Together, but separately highlighting each other

Negative space                 Emphasises

One voice holds, the other can be heard
Once the other is heard it becomes negative space
For as long as it repeats the same theme

Negative space
Deep breath

All of the pathos
None of the drama.

Feel it hard
Say it light.

Gently
Makes for delicate work

Patience

Then it builds, builds,
To a crescendo
Like everything in life
It will die
But it makes a valiant last effort to survive.
Everything dies.
Even the beautiful.
Especially the beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Journal – the best compliments

I realized I’ve been hiding my real writings recently.  Oops, bad Sarah. No secrets. Be open.

It sure was comfortable while it lasted, haha.

 

Something nice to muse upon… what is the best compliment you ever received?

 


I was watching old home movies
I saw mom laughing again
The elegance in her hands
Her purity

Kid me came up to her with the camera
I said, “What are your thoughts on life?”
“I’m for it,” she quipped.
“What are your thoughts on death?”
“Also for it.”
Her philosophy would be tested and proved
later in life,
later in death.
She may not have known this word for it,
But she was very Tao.

I always saw mom in me
Her philosophical side,
Her creativity
Her crazies
Her acceptance.

The best compliment I ever received
Was from friends who never really knew mom
They told me I was just like Dad.
Something I had never considered before.
But once I did I knew it was true.

I got his outrageous side,
His caring
His extroversion
His stoicism
His sense of humor.

Both were nonconformist
Both were strong
Both were smart
Both were brave
Both were loving.

I am lucky, so lucky
To have had such parents
I am lucky to have a family
Bound tightly together in common tragedy
I know true tribalism
It’s wonderful
To know who you are
To have a place
To have a role.

Everyone has ever been so good to me
As good as they knew how
They have taught me how to be good to others
Some lessons better than others
I am grateful for everyone
I try to deserve what I have
But not too hard.
Trying too hard to deserve something
Makes you deserve it less,
grow unbalanced.
I must love me
If I am to love others.
Odd that being in the presence of my heroes
Should make me feel so small
We spend our time
Building each other up
And I always leave
Feeling smaller
Undeserving
These people are my people
My family
I love them unconditionally
And they me
I just have to love myself
Unconditionally.

The cat gave me a compliment today.
She waited outside the shower for half an hour
I take long showers
And when I came out
She purred, happy to see me
Rubbed against my wet leg
Knowing she would get wet
Deciding it was worth it.

My sister tells me to come visit.
I say, I have a nasty cold.
She says, then I’ll make you soup.
The joy of my visit outweighs
The physical discomfort I bring.

Love should not be measured in sacrifice.
The pleasure should outweigh the pain
By a grand margin.
However, it can be a small proof
Here and there
Little heartwarming gestures.
Someone gives you roses
You know they gave up some time and money for them.
Someone gives you food
They made just for you.
Someone reads your blog
Every day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

To be tiny

 

To be tiny
Climb a blackberry bush
Step between the large dull thorns
Wave to a passing ant
Ascend the most vibrant cluster of flowers
Swallowed by a profusion of white
Wrap yourself in a petal of living silk.

 

To be small
Climb a tree
Admire the neighborhood
Wave to a passing plane
Feel the branches bend beneath your weight
Wrap your hands around the sun-warmed wood.

 

To be insignificant
Climb the surface of a little blue planet
Breathe the miracle of air
Wave to a passing meteor
Wrapped in the inexorable present
Know that your meager vision
Only goes as far
As the neighborhood stars.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

On the futility of knowledge

 

Everything starts and ends
With the floor
On the floor
We are born on it
Crawl on it
Walk on it
We die and fall on it
It isn’t really a foundation
It’s just a flat plane
To which we are limited.
Time, the universe, life, death, space
All happen on a plane.
We can only understand this one level of reality
We observe and shape our reality
Aristotle said
We should not experiment, only observe
Experiments change the observation
Now we say
Observation changes the experiment
Eventually it all comes around again
Old theories are proven right
Outmoded fashions come back into action
Old thoughts are rethought
Things that are lost get discovered again
Children crawl on the floor
It’s all pretty well impossible to measure
How silly to try.
The ancients who spent their days
Trying to count the stars
Trying to corner knowledge
They really did that
And when do you think
They finished?
Even if you finish counting what is visible with the naked eye
Then you must move to another pole
And count again.
Even then
You may have a telescope
Or you might make a better, stronger one
But one can never
Never
Be done counting the stars
Because the universe may not be infinite
But by the time you reach the edge of it
You are back at the beginning
The number has changed
And you must start
All over again.

So it is in life.
What we measure is immeasurable.
And even if we try
Anything we put in our heads
Will be made head-shaped
And no longer be the thing
That we wished to understand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Yin Night

 

 

The moon dangles low in the sky
Pendulous and swollen with yin
She pours yellow light over the people
Blessing them, affecting them
The night is pregnant with her influence
I am unsettled yet productive
The cat, especially susceptible, is yowling
And by the time I get to bed
Which I have cleaned obsessively
I have three perfect scratches on my breast
From tangling with his derangement.

The night is full
The moon is young
Tomorrow is Friday
And what will the people do
Under the powerful influence
Of such a moon?
Will they drink their sad
Will they fight their anger
Will they see their fear
Will they fall in love.

The stars have joined her company.
Orion draws his bow
The Pleiades cluster shyly behind him
And the moon loves them all
Fractious, anarchist,
She loves night best
But vacates her seat from time to time
Stepping into day, disregarding order.
She had tea with the sun just yesterday
A nudge to remind him there are other, subtler gods.
Tonight she glows with his bright memory.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

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