Notes On Attention Paid

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02 Meditations

Buson

… more mundane moments… devoid of longing, desire, sorrow, regret… just observations… a heavy cart rumbles by shaking the peonies… fish in the shallows having eluded the cormorants for another day… a man escaping his wife and children on the porch, summer heat… things are as they are, nothing more is meant by them, is that the foundational message of Buson poetry?…

… i want to think there is more, that there is meaning that once discovered will render me wise beyond my years… that would be a lot of wisdom… maybe what i am looking for, what we all look for, is being at peace with it… just being and taking joy in that…

… as i sit here i wonder if i should purchase poems by Robert Bly… a volume of haiku… is there one?… i have a look… the internet is so slow… it is early and didn’t the Verizon man improve it yesterday?…

… i prefer a physical book for meditation fodder… makes it seem more sacred… i look up the word fodder, is it the right choice for this context?… it is, and more appropriate than i thought… the primary meaning, feed for livestock… the meaning i am familiar with: expendable people, as in factory fodder, cannon fodder… this leads me to remember “no man is an island,” a poem i memorized when i was a kid, after reading For Whom the Bell Tolls, by Earnest Hemmingway, which i loved…