The Light By The Barn
The light by the barn that shines all night
pales at dawn when a little breeze comes.
A little breeze comes breathing the fields
from their sleep and waking the slow windmill.
The slow windmill sings the long day
about anguish and loss to the chickens at work.
The little breeze follows the slow windmill
and the chickens at work till the sun goes down—
Then the light by the barn again.
—William Stafford
When I Met My Muse
I glanced at her and took my glasses
off—they were still singing. They buzzed
like a locust on the coffee table and then
ceased. Her voice belled forth, and the
sunlight bent. I felt the ceiling arch, and
knew that nails up there took a new grip
on whatever they touched. “I am your own
way of looking at things,” she said. “When
you allow me to live with you, every
glance at the world around you will be
a sort of salvation.” And I took her hand.
—William Stafford, You Must Revise Your Life
A Course in Creative Writing
They want a wilderness with a map—
but how about errors that give a new start?—
or leaves that are edging into the light?—
or the many places a road can’t find?
Maybe there’s a land where you have to sing
to explain anything: you blow a little whistle
just right and the next tree you meet is itself.
(And many a tree is not there yet.)
Things come toward you when you walk.
You go along singing a song that says
where you are going becomes its own
because you start. You blow a little whistle—
And a world begins under the map.
—William Stafford
Also see William Stafford—You and Art
Just Thinking
Got up on a cool morning. Leaned out a window.
No cloud, no wind. Air that flowers held
for awhile. Some dove somewhere.
Been on probation most of my life. And
the rest of my life been condemned. So these moments
count for a lot—peace, you know.
Let the bucket of memory down into the well,
bring it up. Cool, cool minutes. No one
stirring, no plans. Just being there.
This is what the whole thing is about.
—William Stafford
Ask Me
Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
what I have done is my life. Others
have come in their slow way into
my thought, and some have tried to help
or to hurt: ask me what difference
their strongest love or hate has made.
I will listen to what you say.
You and I can turn and look
at the silent river and wait. We know
the current is there, hidden; and there
are comings and goings from miles away
that hold the stillness exactly before us.
What the river says, that is what I say.
—William Stafford
See a cosmic expression of how the river relates to Hafiz’s life in his poem, A River Understands, in my year-end post Winding up the year with inspiration from Hafiz.
See other poems by William Stafford posted here.
UPDATE (May 1, 2018): A little over seven years since posting this poem, I found a video of him reading it. William Stafford was a guest speaker at the City Club of Portland on July 25, 1986. He spoke about writing and teaching, read some of his poems, and answered questions. The video, listed as You Must Revise Your Life, the title of his new poetry book at the time, was the first book I had ever read of his. It opened up a whole new world of possibilities to me as a writer. He concluded with reading Ask Me. It’s one of my favorite Stafford poems along with The Way It Is, You and Art, When I Met My Muse, Something That Happens Right Now, and others posted on my blog, including the last poem he wrote the day he died, “Are you Mr. William Stafford?”.
Henry Lyman interviewed William Stafford for NPR’s series, Poems to a Listener, later posted on YouTube. Stafford reads several of his poems, including Ask Me. The wonderful discussion that follows this poem is about how Stafford turns “mistakes” into lines of poetry.
I later found him read Ask Me at The Poetry Center at Passaic County Community College’s Distinguished Poets Series in 1986.
Since the start of the Iraq war, record numbers of American soldiers are being diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, which they carry from the battlefield into civilian life. One therapy being proposed to help them to overcome the illness is Transcendental Meditation, and some returning soldiers say it has saved their lives.
Watch this excellent two-minute English video produced by Agence France Presse, also posted in French by rajafelix.
See AFP’s How Clint Eastwood keeps his cool, Meditation May Ease PTSD for Vets, and watch highlights of the David Lynch Foundation‘s Operation Warrior Wellness press conference and the second annual Change Begins Within benefit gala. Also see new video on 50% reduction in PTSD symptoms within 4 weeks of Veterans practicing Transcendental Meditation.
“The sight occupies the seer, transforms seer into sight.”
—Maharishi Mahesh Yogi (Life Magazine, November 1990)
Seeing Is Being
Seeing outside the Self
Forgetting the Inner Light
The Seer becomes the Sight
Transforming Day to Night
Living Night for Day
The Seer can’t find The Way
Mistaking Sight for Seer
Becoming what’s on the Mirror
Forsaking what’s truly Dear
When Self is finally Clear
We Remember How we’re Here
It’s the One Becoming the Three
The Way To See Is To Be
Since Seer Sight and Seeing
Are All Three Ways of Being
And Being Is Being Being Being*
© Ken Chawkin
————————————–
*From a Q & A session:
Course participant: Maharishi, What is Being?
Maharishi: (laughs) Being? Being is Being Being Being.
Then Maharishi and everyone laugh.
I read that poem at a World Peace Assembly in Maharishi University’s Golden Dome in the early 90’s. It was followed by The Enlightened Heart, a poem by Ken Chawkin.
Also relevant: Maharishi describes the nature of inner life: bondage and liberation, and gaining bliss consciousness through Transcendental Meditation.
“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret; it is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
—Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince
Copyright © 2011 Rick Hotton. All Rights Reserved.
Look familiar? Is this how you see reality—only what’s in front of you on your computer screen? Technology may be an extension of our senses to more effectively interact with the world, but it can also be what cuts us off from it. Sometimes we need a little humor to break this mistake of the intellect and make us see the light of day!
Rick Hotton, creator of the award-winning cartoon Holy Molé, opens our hearts and minds with insightful humor. His characters make us laugh and realize there’s more to life than meets the eye.
To find out how Holy Molé was born and to uncover the path of creator Rick Hotton, a dedicated martial artist turned math teacher and now cartoonist, read Behind Holy Molé’s Rick Hotton by Danielle Hope Hier.
Danielle describes the characteristics and spiritual significance of a mole as the main character in Rick’s cartoon and compares it to his outlook on life. She encapsulates his approach in this paragraph:
Through martial arts, math, and Molé, Hotton has captured the essences of working the body, the mind, and the spirit. The quest for knowledge is the thread that ties all three of these forms together, in what might otherwise appear as three completely separate entities.
Danielle asked Rick why he chose a cartoon as a way of expressing elements of his own spiritual journey. I love his answer.
He replied, “But for me, if I could get people to laugh, even if just for a moment…” He paused before rephrasing his next thought: “Being joyful is a state of grace.”
The January 2011 issue of Edge Magazine published an article by Randy Moore on Rick Hotton and the Mindful Art of Holy Molé. It’s interesting to note that both Danielle and Randy are also martial artists and writers.
If you like Rick’s sense of humor, visit www.holymolecartoon.com to sign up and have cartoons delivered to your Inbox. Also follow him on Facebook, Holy Molé Cartoon, to see his photo stream.
Speaking of a common thread that’s invisible to the eye, see William Stafford—The Way It Is. Twenty-five years ago I wrote Seeing Is Being, a poem about a more enlightened way of seeing the world.
This post is very relevant to the theme of how social media cuts us off from the world shown in the Holy Molé cartoon: Two innovative creative videos remind us how social media can destroy not build relationships.
Years later: this cartoon by Bill Bliss (@blisscartoons) of two cats looking at a sunset evokes a similar reaction as the cats in Rick Hutton’s characters above, only it’s what I ask myself after spending hours on my computer scrolling the internet and watching YouTube videos!
Years later I saw a similar quote to The Little Prince from Helen Keller: “The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.”
An animated film with an all-star cast was made of that wonderful book. A little girl lives in a very grown-up world with her mother, who tries to prepare her for it. Her neighbor, the Aviator, introduces the girl to an extraordinary world where anything is possible, the world of the Little Prince. See The Little Prince (2015); original title: Le petit prince (1h 48m), available to rent or buy on Amazon.
— Written and compiled (citing sources) by Ken Chawkin for The Uncarved Blog.
This Enduring Gift
A Flowering of Fairfield Poetry
76 Poets Who Found Common Ground in One Small Prairie Town
Compiled and selected with introductions by Freddy Niagara Fonseca and a foreword by Donovan. Endorsed by two US Poets Laureate. Paperback and Hardcover versions with 300 poems, 16 chapters and 796 pages. Publisher: 1st World Publishing. Links to TEG‘s Website and Facebook.
Pictured below, Freddy invites Roger Pelizzari to read his poem, The Beginning of Real Time, during the book launch at Revelations Cafe and Bookstore in Fairfield, Iowa, September 24, 2010.
The room was filled with poets and guests that night. I’m sitting in the front row, and was also invited to read a poem. Since we were running out of time, I read the short tanka. Here are my poems, selected from the ones submitted, published in This Enduring Gift: Five Haiku, the tanka, Cold Wet Night, and Poetry—The Art of the Voice, which was later selected as the POEM OF THE DAY: Poetry – The Art of the Voice, by Ken Chawkin.
The Uncarved Blog 