Tiny Dancers

(click photo for detail)

“Zazen on Ching-t’ing Mountain”:

The birds have vanished down the sky.
Now the last cloud drains away.
We sit together, the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains.

This is a short poem attributed to Li Bai, an 8th century Chinese poet, and expresses the Buddhist idea of impermanence perfectly. Just a reminder, zazen is a form of meditation where one just sits silently.

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Attempting to say a few words about change in poetical form, I discovered that many have expressed such, in fewer better words and long in the past.

Fall is upon us and the winter chill will soon be here to cause the end of another season of growth and beauty in the natural world. I attempt to freeze the summer's flowers where no atmospheric changes can destroy them.

But the rebirth will happen; we will see them again in the next incarnation.

And it goes . . .

Lost Soul

Cafe Griensteidl in Vienna

(not my photo)




COFFEE AND WATER

A hundred times a day, he says,
“I’ll have to return. Here, there is no mercy.
There, there is kindness and warmth and …”
Then he falls silent.

I ask him, “There?
Where is that?”
He points somewhere.
His face is expressionless,
and he does not say anything anymore.

I take his hand.
We go to a café
and sit down at a quiet corner table.
I order coffee for him
and water for me.

I speak to him in Arabic
and mix water into the coffee.
He is annoyed, “Are you crazy?”

He tries to remove the water
from the coffee.

He tries to.

He tries to get the water back
into the water.

Vienna, Café Griensteidl, June 27th, 1997
by Tarek Eltayeb


(translated from the German by Wolfgang Astelbauer;
from “Ein mit Tauben und Gurren gefüllter Koffer,” edition selene, Vienna 1999)

Tarek Eltayeb was born in Cairo in 1959, the son of Sudanese parents. He studied Business Administration at Ain Shams University in Cairo and at Vienna University of Economics and Business Administration. He has been living in Vienna since 1984, and is currently teaches at the International Management Center / University of Applied Sciences in Krems, Austria and at the University of Graz.



Found this poem on the poets against war website of all places, and it drew me immediately. I don't know why I pictured that the dreamer was an old fellow, but I did and still do. Perhaps he is thinking of the old world of his past in another country where he grew up and was happy but it is no more --- all are gone; but just because he speaks Arabic doesn't mean that he couldn't be thinking of another life, another time where there was mercy, kindness and warmth and . . .
It is sad that he cannot return, cannot get the water out of the coffee and back to its proper place. But sadder still is that he cannot be in that coffee shop looking around and realizing that this is where he is, and how great it is to be alive.
But I probably change the intent of the words?

Maybe it's that you just shouldn't fool with an old guy's coffee!



Some kinds of poetry have always baffled me: seems as if the old uncertainty principle may apply, as the closer you get to the subject the more it is influenced by your being there. Differing meanings appear as you change perspective based on your experiences rather than those of the writer. Then I think that maybe that is the whole idea!












(not mine either!)

Peace

dull words move ratchety
clunky like squared wheels

stuck in my head--useless repeated detritus:
like
you know
clearly
hopefully
awesome
basically
actually
embolden (thanks dick)
to be honest
so . . . on and on

Oh to string a set so perfect
you could wear them like proud pearls

words giddy with anticipation
of expression flowing rhyming
with exact timing
smoothing the edges perfect hedges
found meaning in words revealing


Down a path of morning light not too bright
to a dunesandy edge of the open sea
edge of the world where succinct and understanding
live in secret places waiting to be found

I wish I had a map

Iatric Odyssey

It was just a twist to the right while bending over four weeks ago which caused an ambulance ride to the ER for relief from the stabbing pain in my right hip/kidney area. Two days before, a similar but lesser pain took me to my Primary Care Physician who thought "kidney stones" and ordered a CT scan which showed no such. Then came the following over time:

five X-rays
two CT scans
one MRI
one colonoscopy
six doctors and specialists
two hundred and sixty pain meds (mostly not used because of side effects)
fifteen muscle relaxing meds
one hundred eighty nerve meds
thirty anti-inflammatory meds (not taken)
six mg morphine in the ambulance to ER
♫♪ and a partridge in a pear tree ♫ ♫

I sat in 5 waiting rooms with inner-sanctum exam rooms to match, waited for 3 hours max in one such room and learned to take something to read--preferably a novel since magazines may not be long enough for the wait. Household tip on those medical "gowns" you are asked to strip down and wear: tie all of the bows first and then put the gown on over your head with the bows in the back. This saves you having to tie a bow in the middle of your back, or have the nurse do it-- which is worse.



This, the last place to visit, should have been the first since my problem was orthopedic in nature. A lower spinal-column interference between the bones causing them to pinch nerve when the positioning is just right.
A procedure with four needles to inject some cortisone, with another CT to guide the needles was done. It's been a minimal solution at best.
This facility sees 500 patients on some days and is apparently central Missouri's place to go if you have any bone/joint problems --it is chock full of the walking wounded, like myself.
One of my problems with health-care in this experience (besides the fact that the offices cannot schedule patients very well) is that the record keeping is not ready for prime time. I had to three times pick up CD copies of CT scan and X rays from the local hospital and carry them to specialists I was to see--- fill out a form and sign for my records and physically carry them to the appointment. Instead of a regional or even national data base of patient records which can be accessed as necessary by physicians, there are small collections of records at each doctor's office (usually paper) not available to any other doctor unless hoops are jumped through and luck is yours. My doctor will not give me some records but will fax them to another doctor at my request (I have recently found out (HIPAA requirements) that I can request all records from any doctor who has my records, and I plan to request such to build my own medical file so that it is available as needed). A lot of these procedures and tests are not likely to produce any helpful results but done as CYA by the doctor .
I am in hopes that the present Congress can update and modernize this system.

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The Hieronymus Bosch painting above is called "The Stone Operation" . In15th century northern European times montebanks (quacks) would propose cutting out stones from those suffering from stupidity or headaches or any number of cranial problems. They would make a little cut on the patient, present some bloody stones, and charge to rid him of the malady. Bosch, maybe the first surrealist, is making fun of this practice by showing tulip blossoms being taken from the patient as witnessed by odd people --I really like the inverted funnel on the "doctor" and the book on the woman's head. The text above and below the painting says: "Master cut the stone out. My name is Lubbert Das"

Years from now our medical system will seem just as antique to those, as the painting does to us now!!