Giants

I remember, what I heard, or read; about our thoughts and our dreams not being reality

Then I watched a poetry video Ultimo Fragmento (English subtitles)

A poem by Raymond Carver, he of What we talk about when we talk about love

I remember, what I read or heard, about his addictions and his delusions

Now I am told that what he wanted was "To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on earth"

My own obsessions, and their distance from reality brought me to the place where I first found him, and to where I find him once again

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Darkness Before Light

I said that I had heard the shrill sound of the roosting birds at dusk; the young monk told me that I would also be woken by their impressive dawn chorus

This evening, after a day of mindfulness and meditation I will listen more closely to the roost, I may even move myself to be closer to the action

Yet for now my mind is engaged in thoughts of how we seek out conversation; as though the interior being cannot trust itself to survive alone, or even be alone

My own defence from this fear of solitude is reading and writing, eating and drinking, bathing, and then preparing for the day that lies ahead

I have called it solitude yet already I have a certainty that the name is mistaken, or that the word is unduly heavy with too negative a connotation

What I wished to express, for myself, was the silent joy that exists within; a joy of silence that cries out for extending the times of pure peace

I am mindful that the path of my own words is often distracted by the delusory emotions of the moment; yet they are such a wonderful pleasure that I seek them out o so often

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Plans And Inactivity

During the meditation I was thinking about where to sit for my meditation at Avista

I also contemplated how to lay out the meditation chairs in the Old Stables

I even began to think about building a few shelves, on the back wall; centrally placed

And then, just for the shortest of moments, I was outside the Catholic Church in St Aubins

I do not believe that I ever entered through the doors of that building

I came back to the meditation using my skills of alertness and mindfulness

Skills that have waned, but which one day hopefully I may fully and resolutely recover

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Breakout

Up the stairs, with the aroma known previously

At Salts Gallery; I look out of the window

On the crest of the hill stands a copse of trees

As imagined from Hockney's Yorkshire works

I recognise the painting on the wall

I wonder if it is an original, or a copy

I take a photograph, for reference

It is a detail of a blossom tree

The young man from Czechoslovakia

Who studied Philosophy and Buddhism

From twenty-one through to thirty, is busy plastering

He told me that he built a house, with his friend

We have (Kate and I that is) laid out plans

For our stables renovation project

Kate is not keen on IKEA furniture

Or glass-topped tables

I may have a small desk

Placed under the window

To the side of the wood-burner

Kate is ok with that

I didn't mention the hi-fi

But Kate wants to dance

So we will have a practical need

For the amplification of music

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Nearness; Also Further Away

I had the unsettling feeling
Of a female body sat beside me
An opportunity for desirous attachment
Perhaps a dance maybe, or instead
To carry her off across the flowered lawn

Of course
All that was really on my mind
Were the freesias in the Italian garden
The wisteria overhanging the walls
And the path to the rocks by the sea

A place to take off ones shoes and socks
Bathe ones toes in the clear water
Whilst looking out
Out there, over to Genoa
And the blue mountains beyond

Such as it is
That I tie three lives into one life
That I meditate and daydream
At one and the same time, as the moon
Appears, in the mind, like blue sky

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