I carry the tao of truth
Like a pregnant walrus.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Pond Savings Time/ Historical Reverie
Earth rises gently, subtly
Against the falling Sun
As we do each evening
But this Time is now—
Visited as we are – the black dog and I --
By a giant, green bull-frog
Scorned no less as invasive species are we, by himself -
Yet fleeting – as the Kill Deer mocks our presence
Beside our own pond!
This Time behaves irrepressibly anxious.
Perhaps because of the intense joy I feel
Relaxing here on this half-log, rocking-bench
The water of the striped pond moving all in front
In various circles prompted by unseen forces
Calms me and chides me for my impatience
As Time runs surreptitiously ahead.
Not unlike my own life
Driven to accomplish ideals that do not concede to logic
We rush headlong into decline like Sun
Because Earth turns under us notwithstanding.
Listening closely we hear a slight knocking,
Vague sound coming from the Wood Duck Box.
Such a welcome secret can only be a good portent
For both this Nature that surrounds us
And for my life
- anxiously we await their début
those harbingers of joy.
As Sunlight diminishes the unctuous voices
Of so many frogs in a choir encircling us,
-Except the one nearest is silent
Content to watch rather than pray-
Like Gregorian Chanters, sing forth
Blessings onto us and anyone who listens.
The orange glow of our fading Sun
Is celebrated by splashing fish and a sonorous swallow
Well after its proper moment to feed
Calls his companions as should we –
But we don’t
- we sit and hoard the solitude
Remembering fondly previous shared Time
Bemoaning the distant Space and Inhumanity
Which separate us from those glorious moments.
The Pink sky adorns the graceful cirrus clouds
That wisp and clutter the graying dome
With a dense texture of comfort
That pillows my restless soul.
Only recently have I allowed myself to appreciate
How happy I am during these solitary moments --
If it is possible to count this Time as solitude
Harangued as we are by petulant pond noises.
If I were to share this witness
Would it by that communal sentry
Be more sacred than perceived alone, now?
Would my own happiness be more obvious?
There is room here on this rocking-log for two
As indeed all the seats around Beaver Pond
Are thus contrived to host two dreams as well as one.
But just as this huge frog chooses to sit
Quietly, patiently with us,
So will I sit quietly, patiently, observant
Until the allure of my Nature draws another here.
Where are the Bats tonight?
Again I am impatient.
Their company would be a diversion.
As the Purple drains from the sky,
Our amphibious companion seeks shelter.
And as dusk deepens, Time likewise escapes,
But not before we are graced by the first Bat of Night.
Now too, the two White Chinese Swan Geese
Who own this place and are never separated
Have joined our party – at a convenient distance.
What a beautiful couple they make.
And our delight takes on more qualities
As our five new ducks play on the old tree
In the border shadow cast by new trees.
They call and tease sweetly, clinging to each other
As if by their closeness they are made less vulnerable.
Alone or together they live at risk
But by this simple caution, they divide,
Thus reduce the troublesome reminder
Of their ultimate aloneness.
Could I, should I, do the same again?
Then we who watch contently become objects of inspection
As a curious Nutria swims back and forth in front of us
Questioning our motives. After three turns
He leaves with the sure knowledge that his habitat,
The Beaverlodge, is unaffected by these strange creatures-
We- who only occasionally menace from ashore.
He is the smartest animal in the water,
And he knows we are so much less than he
Because we can only safely reside on land.
How could any animal, so limited, be a threat to him?
Clearly I am not, as he is not to us, but Cocoa?
So, we each relax contently sharing only curiosity.
Darkness blesses us too soon with so many noises,
As described, an euphony of hymns that enlighten us,
So we make our way adroitly in the dark,
Returning for repose to our other home.
Against the falling Sun
As we do each evening
But this Time is now—
Visited as we are – the black dog and I --
By a giant, green bull-frog
Scorned no less as invasive species are we, by himself -
Yet fleeting – as the Kill Deer mocks our presence
Beside our own pond!
This Time behaves irrepressibly anxious.
Perhaps because of the intense joy I feel
Relaxing here on this half-log, rocking-bench
The water of the striped pond moving all in front
In various circles prompted by unseen forces
Calms me and chides me for my impatience
As Time runs surreptitiously ahead.
Not unlike my own life
Driven to accomplish ideals that do not concede to logic
We rush headlong into decline like Sun
Because Earth turns under us notwithstanding.
Listening closely we hear a slight knocking,
Vague sound coming from the Wood Duck Box.
Such a welcome secret can only be a good portent
For both this Nature that surrounds us
And for my life
- anxiously we await their début
those harbingers of joy.
As Sunlight diminishes the unctuous voices
Of so many frogs in a choir encircling us,
-Except the one nearest is silent
Content to watch rather than pray-
Like Gregorian Chanters, sing forth
Blessings onto us and anyone who listens.
The orange glow of our fading Sun
Is celebrated by splashing fish and a sonorous swallow
Well after its proper moment to feed
Calls his companions as should we –
But we don’t
- we sit and hoard the solitude
Remembering fondly previous shared Time
Bemoaning the distant Space and Inhumanity
Which separate us from those glorious moments.
The Pink sky adorns the graceful cirrus clouds
That wisp and clutter the graying dome
With a dense texture of comfort
That pillows my restless soul.
Only recently have I allowed myself to appreciate
How happy I am during these solitary moments --
If it is possible to count this Time as solitude
Harangued as we are by petulant pond noises.
If I were to share this witness
Would it by that communal sentry
Be more sacred than perceived alone, now?
Would my own happiness be more obvious?
There is room here on this rocking-log for two
As indeed all the seats around Beaver Pond
Are thus contrived to host two dreams as well as one.
But just as this huge frog chooses to sit
Quietly, patiently with us,
So will I sit quietly, patiently, observant
Until the allure of my Nature draws another here.
Where are the Bats tonight?
Again I am impatient.
Their company would be a diversion.
As the Purple drains from the sky,
Our amphibious companion seeks shelter.
And as dusk deepens, Time likewise escapes,
But not before we are graced by the first Bat of Night.
Now too, the two White Chinese Swan Geese
Who own this place and are never separated
Have joined our party – at a convenient distance.
What a beautiful couple they make.
And our delight takes on more qualities
As our five new ducks play on the old tree
In the border shadow cast by new trees.
They call and tease sweetly, clinging to each other
As if by their closeness they are made less vulnerable.
Alone or together they live at risk
But by this simple caution, they divide,
Thus reduce the troublesome reminder
Of their ultimate aloneness.
Could I, should I, do the same again?
Then we who watch contently become objects of inspection
As a curious Nutria swims back and forth in front of us
Questioning our motives. After three turns
He leaves with the sure knowledge that his habitat,
The Beaverlodge, is unaffected by these strange creatures-
We- who only occasionally menace from ashore.
He is the smartest animal in the water,
And he knows we are so much less than he
Because we can only safely reside on land.
How could any animal, so limited, be a threat to him?
Clearly I am not, as he is not to us, but Cocoa?
So, we each relax contently sharing only curiosity.
Darkness blesses us too soon with so many noises,
As described, an euphony of hymns that enlighten us,
So we make our way adroitly in the dark,
Returning for repose to our other home.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Teaching Math
Math teacher discourse
is a rabbit
jumping
over the snow of the students' minds.
Oct 24, 2008
is a rabbit
jumping
over the snow of the students' minds.
Oct 24, 2008
Back to peace (or rather Palouse.)
After a quick visit to Atlanta to visit my son and daughter-in-law and their new baby Powell Norris Jacob, I feel stiff and sore from all that travel, but otherwise excited and rewarded for having met the newest member of our family. What a handsome boy! I have to say he didn't seem to resemble this grandpa, however I could see a lot of potential resemblance to his Great- Uncle Joe. Maybe it was the bald head, since my brother has been shaving his head lately. (I want to start the rumor that he is also becoming a Buddhist.)
I voted today, in a curious way. I submitted my registration in good order, but somehow a clerk miss-arranged my name which is easy enough to do, since I am blessed with three last names, Irvin Hall Jacob, they typed Jacob Hall Irvin, which sounds like a perfectly good name, but it did not match my social security records, so they suspected with a form letter, that I was a fraudulent voter. I had to drive twenty miles to Colfax to the county seat to show some household identification, and convince them I was a legitimate person, and that I only wanted to vote once, in spite of the fact that I have lived in Montana, Idaho and Oregon during the last five years, and why would I now want to vote in Washington?
On the ballot about half the positions open are unopposed; so much for democracy? But of course the big issue is the Presidency, and if you think that voting for one or another leading candidate will make a change in the US or Global economic crisis, or the terrorist issue, or the ethical debate surrounding gays or abortion, think again. The only likely surprise to come from this election will be to see how little influence the American President, whomever, will have on any of the key issues including the way we ration health care. Am I just being cynical? Let me know if you think so, possibly I have a deed to a bridge and I will just sign it over to you.
My work at the Literacy Council of the Palouse has begun in earnest and I have combined my first set of volunteer/client together. I teach the tutor how to help, encourage them "Yes you can do this." and we met the prospective client who is a deserving special ed person now adult who still needs the kind of support we can offer, because he is a dishwasher and wants to get promoted to being a cook, but he can't read the recipes. So this will be a satisfying avocation.
Be Free
The tiny goldfinch
Clings to the swaying branch
So naturally
As long as I stand still.
If I move toward it
She flies away
Like so much of nature and love
It cannot be possessed only appreciated. ~
The Geese
The Canadians fly over
singing
whatever song I am prepared to hear
one of joy
or of haunting sorrow.
October 24, 2008
I voted today, in a curious way. I submitted my registration in good order, but somehow a clerk miss-arranged my name which is easy enough to do, since I am blessed with three last names, Irvin Hall Jacob, they typed Jacob Hall Irvin, which sounds like a perfectly good name, but it did not match my social security records, so they suspected with a form letter, that I was a fraudulent voter. I had to drive twenty miles to Colfax to the county seat to show some household identification, and convince them I was a legitimate person, and that I only wanted to vote once, in spite of the fact that I have lived in Montana, Idaho and Oregon during the last five years, and why would I now want to vote in Washington?
On the ballot about half the positions open are unopposed; so much for democracy? But of course the big issue is the Presidency, and if you think that voting for one or another leading candidate will make a change in the US or Global economic crisis, or the terrorist issue, or the ethical debate surrounding gays or abortion, think again. The only likely surprise to come from this election will be to see how little influence the American President, whomever, will have on any of the key issues including the way we ration health care. Am I just being cynical? Let me know if you think so, possibly I have a deed to a bridge and I will just sign it over to you.
My work at the Literacy Council of the Palouse has begun in earnest and I have combined my first set of volunteer/client together. I teach the tutor how to help, encourage them "Yes you can do this." and we met the prospective client who is a deserving special ed person now adult who still needs the kind of support we can offer, because he is a dishwasher and wants to get promoted to being a cook, but he can't read the recipes. So this will be a satisfying avocation.
Be Free
The tiny goldfinch
Clings to the swaying branch
So naturally
As long as I stand still.
If I move toward it
She flies away
Like so much of nature and love
It cannot be possessed only appreciated. ~
The Geese
The Canadians fly over
singing
whatever song I am prepared to hear
one of joy
or of haunting sorrow.
October 24, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Compelling Solitude
This has been a long, gentle afternoon.
Time goes more slowly when one is alone,
Feeling the seconds ticking with my heart.
The little bugs that crawl
on the pink wild roses
enjoy the gentle passage of time
and poignant fragrance
as much as I do.
The black dog circles and paws
the ground anxiously, cautiously
repeating this ritual before he deigns to lie
in an unsuitable place.
I must be doing the same thing.
There is in witnessing these simple pleasures of solitude
A compelling and restful peace. This is
A welcoming place for pleasant memories.
I.J. Hall, May 24, 2003
Time goes more slowly when one is alone,
Feeling the seconds ticking with my heart.
The little bugs that crawl
on the pink wild roses
enjoy the gentle passage of time
and poignant fragrance
as much as I do.
The black dog circles and paws
the ground anxiously, cautiously
repeating this ritual before he deigns to lie
in an unsuitable place.
I must be doing the same thing.
There is in witnessing these simple pleasures of solitude
A compelling and restful peace. This is
A welcoming place for pleasant memories.
I.J. Hall, May 24, 2003
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Congratulations
Yes, I have been selected out of a group of un-known size to be the next Coordinating director of the Palouse Literacy Council. This means I will have a part time job that involves soliciting volunteers to help and advertising for adult clients to be served who wish to learn how to read better. Possibly this job will expand to serve math numeracy, and GED and ESL. The council will pay me a monthly "stipend" and I will have some office hours and do some presentations to companies and civic groups. It's about time I got off my b... and did something useful.
My Peasant Soul
I have this vision
Of my peasant Soul
Shining with the glow
Of the declining yellow Sun
Standing at the end
Of harvested rows of sugar beets
Gleaning in musical silence
The tops and sweet roots
Left behind by the anxious
And frenetic harvesters
The women, some rapped in
Bright red and flower patterns
Some wearing their black weeds
As monuments to lost loves
All these smiling generously
With their gold capped teeth
Gleaming, sparkling their
Simple joy as mine
Collecting their meager prizes
To fatten festival hogs
They labor freely, honestly
As I would hope to do
Solemnly they purify the loam
With their ancient, sturdy hands
Laughing, smiling and gleaming
Near Moscow, October, 1989.
November 11, 2003
My Peasant Soul
I have this vision
Of my peasant Soul
Shining with the glow
Of the declining yellow Sun
Standing at the end
Of harvested rows of sugar beets
Gleaning in musical silence
The tops and sweet roots
Left behind by the anxious
And frenetic harvesters
The women, some rapped in
Bright red and flower patterns
Some wearing their black weeds
As monuments to lost loves
All these smiling generously
With their gold capped teeth
Gleaming, sparkling their
Simple joy as mine
Collecting their meager prizes
To fatten festival hogs
They labor freely, honestly
As I would hope to do
Solemnly they purify the loam
With their ancient, sturdy hands
Laughing, smiling and gleaming
Near Moscow, October, 1989.
November 11, 2003
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
