03 Scenes From a Walk

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…

01 First Thoughts

… large swings in weight, water coming, going, like the tides…

… Saturday, we return home on Monday…

… this morning, i need a hand crank to get going…

… foggy day… picture taking will be interesting… back to the boat basin…

… i check the weather forecast, increasingly windy in next few days, not quite enough to cancel ferry, but enough to make things rock and roll…

… we are wondering what our garden will look like when we return, there has been rain back in Beacon… we expect lots of weeds… will we have any veggies?…

… dog restlessness, not quite ready to get them, hope it settles down…

… birds tweeting madly…

This morning I posted three haikus I wrote yesterday on the Beach to Facebook. I described them as “haikus” because I was aware that I had not followed the traditional 5-7-5 syllable format when writing them. I was pretty sure someone would question me on this, and, someone did.

I wasn’t at all surprised because I had been taught, probably in High School, that the proper format for a haiku is five syllables, then seven syllables, then five syllables again. I think most of us in US English classes, at least of a certain era, were taught this.

While on vacation, I Have been making my way through The Essential Haiku: Versions of Basho, Buson and Issa. I noticed that Robert Hass, the translator of the poems and editor of the book, had not rendered the poems in the 5-7-5 format I expected. I figured that rather than hold to syllable structure, which might have forced words that were not the best translation of intent, he had opted for making the cleanest translation rendering the mood and imagery of the poems most accurately. It turns out I figured well, but there was more to it than I thought. More about that in a minute.

Reading Hass’s translations gave me the idea that very brief poems focusing on the exquisite moments of a scene could be successful. I set out to ignore the 5-7-5 rule and focus on capturing the moment.

As I wrote all this to answer the individual who questioned the format on FB, it occurred to me that what constitutes a syllable in Japanese might be somewhat different than what constitutes a syllable in English. I did a search and this very detailed article about the differences popped up. I was right. Expecting Japanese syllables to be the equivalent of English syllables is, as the article put it, like expecting the one Japanese Yen to equal one American dollar. They aren’t and it doesn’t.

Japanese syllables are (almost?) always short and staccattic, whereas english syllables run a gamut of length and intonation. There are all kinds of subtle differences that start to arise as a result. For example, 17 syllables in English can be twice as many words as would be possible in Japanese pursuing the equivalency idea. Japanese Haiku are therefore almost always being more minimal with words than English haiku written to the 5-7-5 standard. For that reason, poets writing Haiku in English often don’t stick to it. It is also the reason why trying to preserve 5-7-5 structure in an English translation of a Japanese haiku is probably not the best way to go.

There are other fascinating nuances arising from the differences, making it counterproductive to try to adhere to 5-7-5 in english. You can read about them in the referenced article.

One other thing I learned about Japanese vs. English haiku that I might actually start to emulate. The arrangement of haiku into three separate lines is a western convention. The Japanese write it all on one line.

01 First Thoughts

… i often wish i could hit the ground running and that profound thoughts would pop out of my mind and course through my fingers to the keyboard and into the digital nether lands… profound thoughts don’t happen often and how ready i am to run generally depends on how much wine i had for dinner the night before… last night was not bad in the wine department, so i am fairly ready to go today…

… it looks cloudy and possibly a bit foggy… might be a day to photograph the harbors, boats in the mists are very photogenic…

… news that Rudi Giuliani has been suspended from practicing law in New York and will likely be disbarred… an amazing fall for a former SDNY prosecutor and Mayor of NYC… it boggles the mind… does the lust for power really overwhelm all other rationality?…

… continued spreading of conspiracy theory around the country, centered around the big lie, has raised concerns of violence going forward, especially in August, the month 45 has told his followers he will be reinstated as president of the USA… i never thought i would live through such insane times…

… dogs starting to be restless upstairs… i will have to go get them soon…

… back from a walk with dogs out to Dicken’s Farm Preserve… dogs fiercely on the hunt going out, more leisurely coming back… the Bull Thistle is spreading and starting to grow to stature described…

… the thought that, photographically, i am circling around something but unable to pin down what that is…

09 Beach Haiku

Child squealing,

waves breaking,

indolent summer chatter.

08 Beach Haiku

Cloudless summer sky

meeting smooth sea,

in linear mutuality.

07 Beach Haiku

Umbrella raised,

dogs and wife settled,

sea scrubbing the shore.

06 Perfect Beach Day

05 Rodman’s Hollow Trail

04 Maria Popova on Loneliness

… i was about to title this Sylvia Plath, or the Journals of Sylvia Plath… MP’s thoughts here revolve around Sylvia Plath’s journals even as they evoke thoughts and feelings of sadness and loneliness that she herself feels… MP is talking as much about her own experience as she is decoding Sylvia Plath’s…

… i learn that she considers her upbringing less than optimal and that she has struggled in relationships with “people whose claws fit (her) wounds and deepen them,” an experience i certainly had with my first marriage…

… it is strange, though, to talk about the loneliness of love… i don’t really understand this… i suppose that a relationship can leave one unfulfilled (and therefore lonely?)… i suspect that one is lonely on their own when one isn’t good at being with themselves… would this have been Sylvia Plath’s problem?… is this Maria Popova’s problem?…

… i have spent very little of my life truly alone… there has almost always been a love interest and very brief times of solitude between those interests… even so, i have always required large amounts of solitude within my relationships… i wake up early in the morning just to have several hours of that solitude before H wakes up and the household begins to churn…

… i am so good at being alone that i don’t struggle with loneliness much at all… i like who and what i am in solitude… this was my pandemic super power… i did not have to change much about my routines during the height of it… often, it is enough to satisfy my need for human contact to be in a cafe full of strangers, or, during the pandemic, meet someone i know on the street and chat for a few minutes…

03 Voting Rights

… an epic battle is playing out, the likes of which we have not seen since the Civil War… at least, it seems that way to me… there are gaps in my knowledge of history…

… the battle is about who gets to vote and the shape of government in the US will be strongly impacted depending on which side we land on… enfranchising a limited, mostly white, segment of the population or as much of the population as possible… that is, how much of a democracy will our democracy be?…

… at present, the limit the franchise contingent has the upper hand… the coming month or two are critical…

… a vote was held in the Senate this week on whether to startdebate on S1 (For The People Act)… Republicans successfully filibustered…

… congress will recess and reconvene in the middle of July… all eyes will be on whether the Democrats can modify the filibuster rule to allow voting rights legislation to be passed…

02 Buson

… i keep searching for a name for this daily 02 slot post, which i like to be based on readings that are inspirational or in some way dealing with bigger questions… i intend the readings to be a moment of centering and contemplation, a meditation perhaps…

… this morning i continue with the haiku of Buson as translated by Robert Haas…

… as i open my book, i turn to a reproduction of a painting by Buson… Two Crows in Winter (the left panel)…

… i am reminded of Masahisa Fukase’s photo book, Ravens… an acknowledged masterpiece… i have a copy and look forward to looking at it when i get home…

… a poem about a quilt, stained with urine, drying on a line in Suma Village… Buson has no qualms about mentioning urine or shit, in his poems… we shit, we pee, and not always with decorum… an example of the down to earth nature of his poems…

01 First Thoughts

… we are down to our last few days on the island… i am starting to anticipate being home, imagine it… on some trips i am very anxious to get home… this one a little less so… we have had a good time and done most of the things we wanted to do… my only regret is that i didn’t read more, but ok, vacations are for letting go of should and giving full reign to the want of the moment…

… my picture making has been a little lackluster lately, but i am not worrying about it… i continue to explore the capabilities of the iPhone and will certainly go home with a good set of pictures overall… also, i have given color a fuller nod while here… don’t know if it will last, i do love b&w, but i am getting them to look better… editing color pictures has not been as successful as b&w for me… hard to get what i think of as a natural look…

… thinking about the family situation… trying to find my footing in it… trying to achieve perspective and grace towards myself and family members… it’s going to be an emotional year…

… a big thump of the floor as our very large cat Rubie jumps down from the window sill…

03 Race Week!

… we went to Dory’s Cove to watch the boats for a while… couldn’t make out exactly what was going on, but it was a lovely ballet… boats would gather together in a cluster then a group would break off and dash down or up the coast… a bit like a murmuration, only of boats and in two dimensional space… H said it reminded her of paintings done during the Renaissance… i think in particular of the Dutch painters…

… i texted my friend on the racing boat i crewed on to see how they did… they texted back that it was a glorious day of sailing and they didn’t come in last… they said they would be in touch which suggests i should wait for further communication to be initiated by them… i wonder if i will hear from them…

02 Buson

… crows end their flight, one by one, as they return to roost at the end of the day…

… even holy people crap in the fields…

… a tree, the blow of an ax, the scent of pine, all this in the woods, in the winter…

… Buson poems seem only to be about the here and now recorded as succinctly as possible…

… i can’t decide if i like Buson… i miss the layered interpretations of Basho’s poems, the nod to spiritual dimensions… in Buson, the spiritual is entirely contained within the moment… is not a separate thing… could that be the message?… we find meaning if we engage with the moments, pay attention, notice them… commit them to a poem so we can remember them…

01 First Thoughts

… feeling a little groggy this morning…

… Chas got me up in the middle of the night to go out, even though i walked him just before going to bed… dogs, great companions, sometimes sleep’s enemy…

… we have five more days on Block Island and then return home… this is the longest vacation we have ever had… it’s been nice… a good mixture of family, fun and relaxation…

Smaller Is Beautiful :: Essays On Attention Paid

There is also a crisis in our global economic system which is incapable of constraining itself to be in a sound relationship with the planet we depend on. A pathological relationship emerges when one part of a whole insists on being bigger at the continuous expense of other parts of the whole.

04 For The People

… today the Senate will vote on whether to begin debate on the For The People Act or S1… it is widely expected that Republicans will prevent that from happening… what happens next will be interesting… will Manchin and Sinema begin reconsidering their position on the filibuster as at least Manchin has indicated he might?… all eyes on Washington this week…

03 Beautiful Morning

02 Buson

… Buson continues to be a very down to earth poet… one about a snail with unequal horn length, wondering what is on its mind… another about a frog swimming awkwardly which resonates with a song i learned in grade school, (middle school?)… i google it, there is a wikipedia entry on it which gives me the complete lyrics…

_ What a queer bird, the frog are_

When he sit he stand (almost)

When he walk he fly (almost)

When he talk he cry (almost)

He ain’t got no sense, hardly

He ain’t got no tail, neither, hardly

He sit on what he ain’t got hardly

… i learn the song was first published in 1922 and attributed to “a young Norwegian living in Chicago at the time…

… a fun song… stuck in my mind (mostly) all these years… Buson brought it back to me…

… thinking about Buson and Basho, it seems to me that Basho was often looking for the transcendent metaphor, the one about plowing a field and a stranger asking for directions then disappearing being a prime example… an immediate literal interpretation, a second metaphorical one… Buson seems to be more concerned with moments in and of them selves and for themselves… in a way, this is transcendent too, because being purely in the present moment is that… right here, right now, that is what matters… very Buddhist…

01 First Thoughts

… tired last night, in bed by 9:30… we never got to race yesterday, the fog refused to lift… felt a mixture of disappointment and relief… it was cool seeing all the boats and doing a little bit of sailing which is what we did after the race was cancelled… nice people too… i learned that i really liked being on the boat and sailing, as opposed to motoring… i learned that bananas are never to be brought on board the boat because they bring bad luck with them… yes, among recreational boaters, it’s a thing… how did i learn this?… one of the crew members brought bananas on board which were discovered by another member and immediately removed… they

03 Sleeping Dogs not Lying

… the dogs wake up… i get them and take them out… round and round the house we go… Chas does his business quickly… Fiona refuses to do anything… round and round, nothing… she’s always been this way… needs a long walk to get the pipes flowing… i don’t have time this morning… we come back in… it isn’t long before there is cleanup to do…

02 Haiku of Buson

… the poem that grabs my attention…

Fallen petals of red plum—

they seem to be burning

on the clods of horse shit.¹

… it makes me laugh, the contradiction, something so ethereal in nature juxtaposed with something natural that is not…

… another one catches my attention… it is about tilling a field and a man who asks the way then disappears… my first understanding is literal… that a man has asked directions and once received, has proceeded on his way and moved out of sight… with a second reading the metaphorical nature of the poem comes through to me… the man asking the way is the same man doing the tilling and the way is spiritual practice… physical labor grounds one in the right hear, right now… the way… is that how crewing on the boat today will be?… my doubts and questions will recede into the necessity of the moment?…

01 First Thoughts

… my thoughts this AM, as they have been for most of the last 24 hrs since i was asked to crew on a racing boat, are about the adventure i am about to have… i am nervous that in some way i won’t be up to the task… that i will be overmatched by the situation… not terror, just nervous… which is probably a good thing, stage fright keeps one on their toes, concentrated… P chimed in on my FB post and said they had crewed on America Cup type boats twice and both times the bulk of the crew had no experience… you do what the captain tells you and everything is ok… the winds are expected to be brisk today, teens to low twenties with gusts up to thirty mph, though that is later in the afternoon, we may be done by then… it is foggy this morning… i am wondering how persistent that will be and how it might affect the start of the race… could also be foggy at the house but not at the race…