Night Shoot: Fog & No Fog

My actions...: Buddha

I am of the nature to grow old.

There is no way to escape growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill-health.

There is no way to escape having ill-health.

I am of the nature to die.

There is no way to escape death.

All that is dear to me and everyone I love

are of the nature to change.

There is no way to escape being separated from them.

My actions are my only true belongings.

I cannot escape the consequences of my actions.

My actions are the ground on which I stand.

- Buddha

tributary

tributary

sulphur leaked out from under his knee caps.

the insects busy chewing ligaments.

The version of himself, by anomalous intersection,

that carefully folded some clothes beside the trail, took off some ugly shoes,

looked behind one last time and turned off into loss, into the woods.

To be nearer the fallen, the previous,

the after,

returning to the living, the many.

Closer, hopefully, to the larger jaws. Full predators.

red grizzly and the peppery, puppy-dog breath in wolf.

The sound against sounds!

Then a brief reprieve,

no shudder, no flock joining the air.

Just the concern of many

eyes looking left then right, left then right.

And like a Swift, the return of normalcy.

The son of a deadman. The son of the dead.

Carefully, expecting pain, his foot sank into the folding forest floor,

the wonder of the cushion, the comfort, the deadwood as living down.

orange moss soothed the bottoms of his feet;

kindness of nature--- his last relief.

The largest rocks were held with lichen, with the texture of a puzzle.

The pines watched silently, the bark still sharp, sapping

at that moment

beyond the obvious clumsy subtraction---

AH! the recoil! the abruptick-ick-ick

and the momentum seemed to slow and be the most injurious.

Reflexive motion: the Rifle-butt scraped his poor shin.

It beat him by force back down to the earth.

Restrained, the Sky above never skipped, no,

with tranquility it hung everywhere, noticing

the hirsute core, the length of the limbs, the spidery legs, the arms of poplar

improbably, perfectly, crossing his trunk.

The moment didn't urgently approach,

it came with a (new) calm and by (old) sorrow both.

a slow collection of embers, just.

on the leaves, in the trees.

The autumn bed filtered the litres clear

until further along, down the hill,

the glacial stream, two feet wide and two feet still,

until almost 5:30, had a fresh tricklin'.

ritualized water flowed in.

seventeen minnows congregated amongst the new water,

somehow eager in the warm diffusion.

Art and Indulgence

(Nude, Edward Weston, 1936 --- surely one of the most beautiful
photographs I've ever seen --- denoting innocence and sensuality at once)

Perhaps the only acceptable indulgence is the indulge that is tempered by abstraction. When indulgences are expressed through specifics (willful ignorance, drink, lust, materialism, etc...) the avaricious nature only strengthens the concepts of self and separateness, which lie in these hollow victories that reinforce the ego; which in turn leads to degradation and shame.

Whereas Art, a form of abstract indulgence ---whether it's realism, expressionism, or literal 'abstract art'... it doesn't matter--- expresses and exposes that which never seems to define and promote separation but rather is initiates and fulfills a sort of personal connectivity to something larger than 'the self'. And when our concern is not with selfishness and self-aggrandizement (which innately comes at the expense of everything or anyone else), we can finally come to know and appreciate more virtuous concepts like sharing, sincerity, grace, compassion and connection.

True Art is indulgence expressing the essential quality of reality: it's abstract and paradoxical but summing it up would look something like this: we (plural) are one (singular).

On seeing the Dalai Lama Live

Me, I went to see the Dalai Lama in Calgary yesterday. J and I. I was extremely impressed. Much more so than I expected I would be. He had four bruises on his arms, maybe from the firm-gripped entourage ensuring that “his eminence” never takes a tumble. Anyway, he emanated three of the greatest attributes I can think of: sincerity, confidence and innocence.

A sweet and almost child-like humour also found it's way into his dialogue. He was telling the kids in front of him how some people think he's a “healer” but that the greatest proof he could offer to counter such a ridiculous claim is that he recently had his gall-bladder removed and well...the pain, so think about it--- only he said it much better than that. Apologies to all.. On a related note but semi-non-sequiturishly, I kinda wanted to hug him at this point, everyone was laughing and he looked very pleased, he put us all at ease early on--- a fabulous strategy, and I sorta felt like I was gonna cry. Can't be sure why. Something like Greatness.

So through yellow-tinted, rectangular shaped lenses he talked about smiling at people, really smiling at them, the necessity of seeing faces, looking into eyes, connection and recognition, regardless of personal history or status. He endearingly, almost shyly, related how sometimes he might see girls in nearby cars while being chauffeured about in different cities and their eyes would meet, he told how his first response, a smile, is sometimes greeted with a frown, the girls come to see his smile as a symbol of, as he playfully put it, his “desire to exploit them”, so uncomfortably he quickly smiles again at the humour in the situation and perhaps, a little red-faced, abruptly looks away, to deny any further misunderstanding.

Another surprise was just how rational he seemed to be; denying the existence of miracle-workers, evil, and the relative rarity of malice.

Pausing from time to time, mid-sentence, he would blurt out a Tibetan word to a translator on his right, and wait eagerly as his translator satisfied his duty and the Dalai Lama would repeat, usually in a mangled, yet charismatic sort of way, the offered english version, and quickly move on. He talked about the differing levels of ignorance and how these levels, in their varying degrees cause dependent degrees of bad karma and dukkha, usually translated as “suffering.” Whether known or unknown (the more ignorant you are, apparently the less likely you are to suffer, 'ignorance is bliss' kind of thing, but eventually your karmic signature will catch up to you and unfortunately, those around you. As one Buddhist truism states: “Human actions vectored in ignorant desire tend to yield only more of the same. Conversely, however, actions vectored towards progression yield their kin.”)

Moving his hand over his heart with his clenching and unclenching fist he passionately spoke about motive as being a very important distinguishing feature of 'acceptable violence' or 'unacceptable violence'. He gave the example of 'acceptable violence' being the standard parental kind, where spanking a child might seem harsh but if it's done out of love and concern it should rather be seen in a loving light (obviously, within reason--- although, the be clear, he never said within reason, but one can only assume he meant within reason, uh?) The more impressive example he gave highlighted how motive is also crucial in recognizing that that which seems loving can sometimes be just the opposite; a sort of unseen violence or wronging, if you will. He told how unscrupulous people will often act exclusively in their own best interests, perhaps even purposely fooling others with smarm, effluent praise, their empty charms, all the while the compliments and seemingly beneficent behaviours are actually negatively charged (aka: bad karma) by the motivation's impurity and self-seeking nature.

He talked about feeling the same towards every human he meets; how at the same level, the first level of being: Human, we are nearly identical, and how this sameness will, through pertinacious compassion, result in mutual care and respect for one another. With intensity he talked of later levels too, levels devoted to distinguishing labels, whether they're based on race, education level, wealth, political beliefs, etc... as being hindrances if we see these contrasting features before our shared, common humanity. Our shrinking world with it's ever increasing interconnectedness is one in which our progress and very survival depends on recognizing the sameness of us all and how the level of compassion and concern that we usually reserve for ourselves or for our close inner-circle needs to be expanded to include all of humanity. Reiterating the basic Buddhist belief that we need to be “as concerned that no one go hungry as that our own family be fed... as concerned that the standard of living for the entire world rise as that our own salary be raised.”

Anyway, I feel like this is becoming one of those fucking grade 7 essays I've been poppin' our with too much regularity these days.

I guess the gist is this: the man was enchanting. He was wise, wise, wise. And I feel very fortunate to have been in the presence of one such as he--- about as Holy a man can get, I mean, well, as Holy as my rationality will allow. Bless him--- I'll allow that too, sans-sneeze.