My son and I are traveling to the Middle Kingdom.
We hope to glean some wisdom – a bit of Tao, a bit of Chan, and certainly many noodles. The latter are the ones holding the wisdom. Just ask any sage.
I know that through our travels some smile dust will stick to our robes, the dust left by all the smiles that will greet us along the way.
And I promise that when we return, I will spread some here for all of you to enjoy.
Open the door and become the sky.
Mu shin –
being absent so as to be fully present.
All questions fall into silence,
stars disappearing in the early morning.
The realisation that the self has no opposite,
a flower simply being a flower.
We are but specks of dust catching the light and moving with the breeze.
We came from distant places to this earth that is blue, so that we may become ocean.
We are here to shine, and embrace sorrows and joys.
We are here to be kind, and speak words of comfort.
We came a long time ago,and since then, some have forgotten that it is to love that we are here.
I do not write about lingering sunsets, falling blossom petals, the light in the early morning or even about birds taking flight.
I do not use metaphors either. Using the beauty of the world to describe emotions, renders all things oh … just so so banal.
There is no need to trap beauty into words and fancy imagery, forcing it to jump through loops of twisted grammatical constructs.
As for emotions, if you love, if you feel sad; just say it! No need for the rain to take the place of your tears. Your tears are beautiful just as they are.
In this self-centered world, where poetry is measured in hits and likes, as though it was a piece of furniture, I admit to finding little solace in the words of others.
So I lean back on the old Masters like Verlaine and Kobayashi and Hafez and Pushkin and Wang Wei and Victor Hugo and Rumi and Li Pao and Neruda and Basho, and many others.
When I hold a book of their poetry, the world slows down, everything becomes tenderly subtle and I can then hear the silence of beauty.
I am an epiphyte. The air and the rain sustain me. My tastes are rather simple you see, and I need nothing else.
Do not be fooled by the “K” at the start of my name. My heart is not a bureaucratic maze, very far from it; rather, it is the world around me that often seems to be.
I like to pick up dust from the ground and throw it over my shoulders. Sometimes, it even turns into gold, helping me and others find our way.
I see the infinitely small, I feel the infinitely big and they become words that I offer here for all the ones who care to read; for all the ones who, so kindly, allow me to lean on them in this world I often do not understand.
– An epiphyte is a plant that grows on the surface of another plant or tree. It sustains itself with the humidity from the air and the rain. An epiphyte leans on the plant or tree, and it is not attached to it (hence it is not a parasite); and it does not feed on it either, but rather produces nutrients that sustain it as well as any organism in its proximity. The best known epiphyte is of course the orchid.
– The “K” is in reference to Joseph K, in Franz Kafka’s “The trial.”
On this moon filled night,
I just long to stay awake
in complete silence
until the sun dims the stars.