#3143 - Monday, April 21, 2008 - Editor: Gloria Lee Nonduality Highlights - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NDhighlights Haiku, and the Art of DisappearingMessage 1 of 1 , Apr 21, 2008View Source#3143 - Monday, April 21, 2008 - Editor: Gloria Lee
Nonduality Highlights - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NDhighlightsHaiku, and the Art of Disappearing
Gabriel Rosenstock April 6th, 2008
Would you like to disappear? Haiku can show you the way!
How painful it is to see people all wrapped up in themselves, commented Ryokan. Well, its unwrapping time, for all of us now, time to let go. How? Lets see!
Haiku is an ardent, inspired and inspiring engagement with everyday life, an intercourse with nature-centred events, mainly, events that are happening around us all the time but which we perceive more keenly on the haiku path. Read true haiku with reverence, write true haiku - do it right and you can disappear, happily, now and over and over again in the course of your life.
Theres a professor in Chicago who has been studying happiness. What is happiness? Its all about flow, maintains Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi in Finding Flow: The Psychology of Engagement with Everyday Life: The metaphor of flow is one that many people have used to describe the sense of effortless action they feel in moments that stand out as the best in their lives
Catechism Sometimes it appears that the cat knows more than we do, learning from experience, fitting into the world, and disappearing from it, more gracefully than we can:
walks into the autumn wind -
she doesnt know
the cat on the stove
/ Photo by fazen /
and back into the dark
the affairs of the cat!
from what unknowable universe
the cats green stare
Disappearing in the haiku moment Think about moments of flow, ordinary or extraordinary events in your life in which you have experienced flow: it may have been entering another dimension while dancing, or when engaged in some aesthetic pursuit music, pottery or painting; it may have been lovemaking, or the highlight of some athletic activity, or simply watching the dawn, or the stars, in some exotic location. You neednt strip fitter as athlete, hill-walker or lover, no need to book a trip to Kerala or Kerry. You can flow now with haiku, like water, like a cloud.
Wandering monks were called unsui in Japan, literally cloud and water.
Bashō moved about quite a bit and caught the beauty of flow and stillness, the intermingling textures of life:
The squid sellers call
mingles with the voice
of the cuckoo
(Matsuo Basho, Poems, trans. Robert Hass, PoemHunter.com, 2004)
It is your static, self-conscious, unflowing self which makes you so stolidly visible, so permanently present to others and to yourself. Disappear for a while. True haikuists will show you the way because they have developed a magnetic capacity to attract the haiku moment.
Disappearing in the flame Mystics will show you what true haikuists already know:
I, the fiery life of divine essence, am aflame beyond the beauty of the meadows, I gleam in the waters, and I burn in the sun, moon and stars I awaken everything to life.
It was Hildegard von Bingen who uttered those magnificent words. What a haikuist she would have made, had she known of the technique, given her life-long engagement with the secret life of plants and stones. Another German mystic, Angelus Silesius, was a master of minimalist verse; though his strange couplets are generally too abstract to resemble haiku, he presents us with a fine, if cryptic, reason for disappearing:
God, whose love and joy are present everywhere,
Cant come to visit you unless you arent there!
Disappearing in the ordinary Haiku poems focus on ordinary, seasonal goings on around us. Some form of brain synchronization happens in the haiku moment and the ordinary becomes extraordinary. We do not need a magic wand, or magic mushrooms, to disappear. A turnip can take us there, a tree, a crow, a shadow on a lake, the hissing of geese.
Meher Baba reminds us: The best way to cleanse the heart and prepare for the stilling of the mind is to lead a normal, worldly life .
i maonar anocht
leis na torbáin
leis an gcruinne
with the tadpoles
with the universe
in the silver dewdrops
(Trans. David G. Lanoue)
The haikuist can disappear first thing in the morning, last thing at night, each haiku moment being a cleansing of the heart, a stilling of the mind, a vanishing.
Excerpted by permission from Haiku: the gentle art of disappearing, by Gabriel Rosenstock.
Gabriel Rosenstock is the author/translator of over 100 books, including 12 volumes of poetry in Irish and a number of volumes of bilingual haiku.
Discovered on http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/blog/