02 Spiritual Observance

The Hut of the Phantom Dwelling, Basho…

There was a time when I envied those who had government offices or impressive domains, and on another occasion I considered entering the precincts of the Buddha and the teaching room of the patriarchs. Instead, I’ve worn out my body in journeys that are as aimless as the winds and clouds and expended my feelings on flowers and birds.¹

… i do my best to content myself with daily walks, writing in my journal, making photographs… even so the desire to be seen, followed and liked is persistent…

01 First Thoughts

… the wind howls, i contemplate where i might like to walk in the wind…

… we watched Outlander last night, some very steamy scenes… i woke with erotic thoughts…

… dogs did not come down with me, 15 minutes later i go get them to keep them from waking H… i take them out… while outside they pick up a scent and go bonkers… they are noses with legs in these moments… hard to manage…

… Heather Cox Richardson took the night off… apparently she resumed normal life in Boston which exhausted her…

… J was accepted into hospice care… we are on the final downhill run… C is in denial… my feelings are complicated…

… the birds sing, the sun comes up, the dogs hunt, life unfolds…

07 Reflections

From earlier today…

06 Scenes From a Walk

Mohegan Bluffs…

… one always has to consider the return trip when descending these stairs…

… the bluffs are well worth the effort…

05 Osprey Sighting!

… the neighbors have an Osprey nesting pole in their back yard… apparently, the Osprey in question had been building a nest on top of a utility pole which the power company had to put an end to… the neighbor, a retired scientist and academic, prevailed upon them to erect an Osprey nesting box… a photo full frame, another zoomed in… best i could do with the iPhone… 🪶

04 Arias for a New World

… this article on dancer/choreographer M. J. Harper’s new dance production caught my attention…

… when i first moved to New York City, decades ago, i studied dance at the Alvin Ailey school… i also took beginning ballet lessons at a small studio around the corner… i was never more than a beginner and starting too late to even think about a dance career… at the time i was a young pup architect and i felt the dance training would inform me about movement through space… there were also a lot of attractive young women that i enjoyed being in the midst of as a single young man, though i don’t believe i ever dated one of them while i was there… in retrospect, i was as interested in being amidst the feminine as i was in finding a partner…

… the article doesn’t reference anywhere to see the production that i could find…

03 For The People

… this morning’s Heather Cox Richardson post suggests there is movement on the voting rights front… Senator Joe Manchin has made some proposals on voting rights, which were backed by Stacey Abrams… he has also indicated a willingness to modify the rules of the filibuster, only 55 senators would be needed to pass legislation and 60 senators would be required to keep a filibuster going… meanwhile, a Republican running for office in Florida appears to have threatened to hire a Russian hit squad to eliminate his opponent in the primary… hmmm…

02 Morning Spiritual Moment

The Haiku of Basho

… i don’t know if it is my mood, but the Haikus i read this morning seem all about alienation, loneliness… they leave me adrift, there isn’t one to latch on to… i read on… i land on this one, Basho’s death poem:

Sick on a journey,

my dreams wander

the withered fields.

… yes, this one seems appropriate for the morning after the news about J…

How is it possible?

… to be staying on an island in the middle of the Atlantic and have no reliable source of fresh fish?

I am realizing that when I post to my notesonattentionpaid blog at micro.blog that only the title and a link post to the timeline. Unless there are pictures. All of those seem to post. Am I doing something wrong? Is there a setting somewhere I am missing?

… that J’s doctor has told them they are likely in the last year of their life… their problem with living is a heart that has beat 100,000 times a day, 365 days a year for 93 years… it’s tired… they’re tired… the eyes of the leader of the band are growing dim…

Footprints in the sand,

sea fingers reach in

to erase.

… scored some garlic scapes in the farmers market and decided to make a pesto… turns out a stick blender makes a good grinder to get everything pulverized… i prefer a mortar and pestle as flavor is better, but hard to haul on vacation… a stick blender is compact and versatile…

… this article on Gottmik caught my attention this AM… femininity in all it’s forms is an interest of mine, trans femininity included…

… one of my favorite places on Block Island is at the narrow tip at the north end of the island… It’s a somewhat wild place, home to seaguls and a colony of seals… seals are the preferred food of great white sharks, and where there are seal colonies, there are likely to be great whites, or there eventually will be… the seal colony is a more recent thing… this morning i read this article about an attack last summer in Maine… from what i gleaned it can be assumed that these sharks have generally always been around… fortunately, attacks on humans are rare…

… i have a thick book of haikus composed by Basho, Buson and Isa… i have been reading two to four pages worth daily as a kind of spiritual observance… i think about them, summarize them, sometimes quote particular ones that land more firmly than others in my mind…

… the one that lands most firmly this morning is about being in a winter garden, the moon thinned to thread width, the insects singing… if it’s winter, the insects wouldn’t be singing, at least not where i live, and not in Japan?… the poem is about the garden of old age, the light diminishing, insects singing the poet off into approaching blackness…

… the reverberations from yesterday’s pit bull encounter continue to play out in my head, i relive the attack over and over, each time imagining what i might do if it happened again, how i might defend myself and my dog if a similar attack happens in the future…

… this trauma brings up a years ago memory of the time a dog of ours got locked in the jaws of a pit bull on the ferry… he lived to tell about it, but still, a trauma that i vividly remember to this day, even though the dog is no longer with us… yesterday’s incident did not harm Fiona, but it so easily could have been much worse… later, at the farmer’s market, Fiona was more shy with the bigger dogs than before, she has her own trauma to deal with… i wonder if she, in a more rudimentary way, tries to imagine what she might do differently if such a situation happened again… they say dogs live much more in the moment, but i’m not convinced…

… nature programs us to lock memories of trauma in… i suppose it helps us recognize and avoid future similar situations, though there was no avoiding this one, a sudden confluence of circumstances that one had no reason or possibility to see coming… it will alter my behavior though… sadly, i won’t take my dog with me to hike this trail again…

… news of a family member in hospital… stumbled and fell while hiking Clayhead trail with my dog Fiona… a close call with two unleashed pitbulls, owner was “so sorry,” i wasn’t having any of it, “leash your dogs!” i told her angrily as i hurried away with Fiona…

… i learn about… Risshaku-ji, a mountain temple, an unusually well kept quiet place¹… i morning-dream of going there… i know i am unlikely to, would be a cool adventure though… the more i read the Haas translations, the more i think they might not be so good… the first Haiku i read this morning …

Stillness—

the cidada’s cry,

_drills into the rocks.

… i have no knowledge of the Japanese, but i would never think of the noise cicadas make as a cry, is that really the best translation of the Japanese?… it is loud and i can imagine it drilling rocks… it’s a high pitched washboard sound, that’s how i’d describe it… or, simply, cicada noise, most of us know it… still, i do get the image…

… the next one, fifth month rains swell a local river… as they do Fishkill Creek at home, something i have photographed many times… Haiku strike me as minimalist notes on attention paid… can i replicate this in a photograph?…

… L and M were over to dinner last night… i cooked… we had a good time… i drank more than i should have but don’t seem to be hung over in any substantial way…

… dogs and bird chorus got me up… we didn’t walk them just before bed so they had business to do…

… kitchen a mess, stuffed the dishwasher and turned it on…

… supposed to be sunny today, will we go to the beach?…

… i have been thinking about the need to have adventures, i will get busy planning some when we return… Block Island is nice but it is not an adventure, it is more a routine part of the year…

… news that is J in the hospital, i will need to call J and C…

… Biden meets with Putin today… the world waits (with baited breath?)… my readings have caused me to consider the possibility that Biden/Harris are a brief pause to a trend, that the slide to authoritarianism has been briefly halted and could easily return… the rest of the world will be uncertain about what’s next too…

Scenes from a walk…

Basho

… birds weeping, fish crying; dusk in spring, no bells in the village, how is life possible; art origins, planting song, back country; chestnut trees, in written chineese, west + tree = amida’s paradise, the wood useful for walking sticks and pillars of a house; summer grass, warriors dreams; fleas, lice, horses peeing near one’s pillow…

… this morning’s set seems more cryptic than some… how does summers grass evoke warriors dreams?… one needs to be in the spring of youth to fight?… i like that chestnut trees are associated with the western paradise, the place of pure bliss, that because of that one fashions walking sticks and house pillars from the wood, to embody the place one hopes to attain… a village without bells, no time keeping, no regulation of the rhythms of the day… how does one perceive weeping in a bird, or tears in the eye of a fish?, the later especially something to do with cosmic integration, and sadness of animals at the end of spring… human projection?, and in any case, most of us are happy with the arrival of summer…