Monday, 5 August 2013

The Ripeness Of Fruit




Opening to the porosity
Of being in the Self,
One molecule thick.
Naked in the woodland
The heart awakened to it all.


At this very edge
Where the body dissolves
So becoming sensuous being –
Light scattered among the leaves.


Sun heating up the bowl
Even as breeze cools the skin.
A tapestry of light and shade unfolding -
Oh this heart, this singing heart.


Reed stems bending in soft arcs
Fringing the shrunken pond
Being absorbed back into ground –
“This earth, the very body itself.”


The wood in full ripeness
Stretched tight against the year’s cycle
Ceaseless unbinding in fulfilment.
Opening the all seeing eye
And tasting sweet wild berries.


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Friday, 2 August 2013

This Sea Of Trees




This bowl of roots

Our ship which carries the burden
Of our longing for union -
Weightless on the sea of expectation
Knowing all without discrimination
Accepting without judgement –
This bowl of roots
Our shared community of soul time together
Floating free to be as it is
Yet anchored also to love’s grace unfolding.
Carry us, carry me, carry you
In the sharing of our prayer for liberation
To walk the earth freed of the veil of unknowing.


Knowing the flow 
the shifts
Of wind and trees
Liberated now by birdsong
Becoming as we are 
in ourselves.


Bird song sketches
Wind through the pines –
The poet’s delight.



This way and that
The river flows
Running by its own internal logic,
Rain in the mountains
Gathering in the seas.


Raindrops gather along naked stems
Each a pinprick of light
Holding the world within.
Wood sprites dancing
Among the purple-brown leaves.



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Thursday, 1 August 2013

Sound Of The Bell


Below ancient trees
verdant mosses flicker
a dance between light and earth.
Silent immobile to the eye
soft flowing songs for the heart.


A moment of such simple Beauty
when the bell was struck
so releasing the sound within.
I, the bell; you, the bell,
the bell neither you nor I.
Still the sound resonates unbroken
penetrating the heart
stripping away layer by layer,
emptying the vessel of itself.


Treading a pilgrims' path

remaining empty,

thus with the mind
of one who only walks.


A sparrow
beak full of moss –
treasuring aloneness
in the everyday world.


The retreating cloak of night
leaves behind
an ocean of dewdrops,
each one a new world.



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Tuesday, 30 July 2013

Of Poetry and Japanese Gardens


Poetry, in both the classical Chinese forms as well as the native Japanese forms have for long had a bearing on gardens. The influence has not it is true been quite as direct as Chinese landscape painting though it should not be underestimated as an influence on the development on the garden tradition. The concise nature of poetry and its propensity toward suggestion rather than narrative description has meant that  it has often been used to generate the evocative nature of the gardens themselves.

On the desolate stony shore
Of the garden lake, where he once walked,
There grows alas weeds,
That grew not there before.

This poem from the Manyöshu, compiled in 759, is one of several that feature in that important collection, which strongly evoke garden images. From such sources we can create an impression of the kind of garden that existed in the earliest days of garden building in Japan. Likewise in this poem, also from the Manyöshu, we can gain an image of a rocky shoreline to the pond overhung with Pieris japonica.

In the shadow of the rocks
The pond water
Glows with the colours
of Andromeda flowers.
Must these fall ?

What is also revealed here is the manner in which nature, and thus the garden was being appreciated; that is the fleeting, transient quality of beauty of the flowers being set against the rugged, dark stones of the shoreline, itself being observed as shadow. This, observation of the ephemeral nature of the phenomenal world is seemingly a constant theme of  writers particularly in the Heian period. An observation that is recorded with an eye that sees beauty within the futility of desiring to imagine one can do other than respond to nature's movements. It is an attitude that has persisted right up into modern times. in some respects. The garden is also being portrayed as an extension of Nature into the domain of man, where the relationship is one whereby man appreciates, understands his role in relation to Nature, and accepts it for what it is, without necessarily seeking to apply an illusion of dominance over Nature. 

As Ivan Morris writes: " They (members of Heian society) strive to blend themselves with the nature that surrounds them, believing that thus they can learn to understand themselves and those about them. Sensitivity to the subtle moods of nature was an essential attribute of 'good people'. Without such sensitivity it was impossible to enter into 'the emotional quality of things', which was regarded as the basis of aesthetic, and even, moral awareness. ". The garden as metaphor, expressing a vision of Arcadia through the created landscape, blending earth, water, stone and plants is in another way of creating poetry . A sentiment Lancelot Brown might have of approved of. 

Poetry is also associated in the practice of naming pavillions and other architectural features in the garden. Katsura Rikyu is a example of this practice, where the 'Gepparo' pavillion ( literally the 'Moon-Wave Tower') is so named after a poem by the Chinese poet Po-Chü-i, which describes the moon as a " jewel flickering in the heart of the waves ". The practice became wide spread from an early date in Japan, and is adapted from the Chinese practice which linked garden architecture as a means of linking poetry and garden scenery. The use of poetry in the garden was a means by which the imagination of the viewer could be encouraged to take flight whilst viewing a garden.

The haiku (17 syllables, set in three lines) was developed from the fifteenth century onward as a distinct poetic form.  It is interesting that the haiku with its emphasis on brevity and exploring the extremes of suggestibility, came about at a time when the greatest of karesansui ('dry landscape')gardens were being developed. Whilst there would be no direct link between the two events, their shared concerns are indicative of shared patterns of the expression of experience. In haiku fragments of an image are gathered in a projected space about which the reader's mind builds a more complete pattern of cognition of the image. In the karesansui garden, the same practice is utilised, except stones are placed in the garden space in a pattern of relationship to one another that also allows the viewer to enter the picture. As the haiku becomes an object of meditation, so too is the karesansui  garden. They are both attempts to cut direct to spiritual truth, stripping away all but the absolute essential elements. Superfluous elaboration in expression serves to repress the potential for suggestion, and thus hinder the  engagement of the imagination of the viewer.

Autumn wind-
the mountain's shadow
wavers.
                      Issa

This latter aspect is exploited most fully in the karesansui form of garden. The garden of Ryoan-ji with its fifteen stones set in a courtyard bare of anything other than raked garden, is the garden as a haiku poem. This latter aspect is exploited most fully in the karesansui form of garden. The famous garden of Ryoan-ji temple with its fifteen stones set in a courtyard bare of anything other than raked garden, is the garden as if a haiku poem. Very often , in the karesansui garden the components of the garden are pared down to the minimum required to represent a scene. The landscape is sketched in with fewest possible brush strokes, this deliberate economy of form, allows the maximum degree of  engagement of the imagination of the viewer. The discipline of the gardener's hand , allows the viewer a creative role in 'completing the garden'.

Poetry is used as a means of directing the thoughts and heart of the person observing the garden deeper, beyond the world of material phenomena into the mystical, non-intellectual reality of Nature. The presence of poetry in the garden, as part of its fabric, reinforces the impression that the garden is a world set apart from everyday reality. In the garden Nature is represented as a 'super-reality', as much a state of mind as a place in nature. As the poet sets out to condense his vision of Nature into a different kind of reality, so the garden designer also attempts to create a world in which the viewer may gain experience of Nature in a more concentrated form.

When we leave behind,
The Three Worlds' Abode of Fire,
Storm and passion tossed
Entering the Dewy Path,
Through the pines a pure breeze blows.
                                                       Sen no Rikyu


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Sunday, 28 July 2013

Voices Underwater



I wanted to fold into you
Press beyond dream and need,
Know nothing of one, nor the other –
Just find the words to a song
I knew before I was born.
  

The air is thick
We breathe as if under water,
Voices hushed
And trees bending as river weed -
Words born before language arrived.


Four notes
Played in their own time and space
Flowers born into the light,
Timid, hesitant, undemanding –
Beauty needing to be known.


At some point in the night
I reached across to touch your skin
Just knowing your presence alive,
Sufficient for the dream to cascade
Into cadences of light shading into light.


Dancing lightly in winter’s eye
Scarce time to learn of regret
It will end, transform itself into spring –
Finding another path to the beginning.



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Saturday, 27 July 2013

Daisen-in


Daisen-in, a sub-temple of the Daitoku-ji temple compound, contains one of the finest gardens in Japan.  It is important historically and artistically; in it one can read almost the entire canon of achievement in the Japanese garden tradition.  All the symbolic effects influenced by the aesthetics of painting, and the art of creating illusory representations of space, are brought together in one small area.  The temple of Daisen-in was founded in the Muromachi period as a temple of the Rinzai sect of Zen Buddhism, 1509, by Kogaten Sotan (1464-1540), the abbot of Daitoku-ji and a figure of great standing.  He was widely revered for his determined personality, and his admirers included the Shogun Yoshimasa, as well as important persons in the Imperial court.  Sotan needed his contacts to achieve his aim of building Daisen-in, as the country was wrecked by civil wars that did not leave Kyoto free from lawless destruction.  Daitoku-ji itself had been completely razed in 1468 as a result of these wars. The garden of Daisen-in was laid out between 1509 and 1513. 

From the roofed corridor with a bell-shaped window the viewer looks down to the 'Boat stone', as if standing in the prow of a ship The 'Boat stone' is just emerging in the bottom right corner of the photo. 
The Boat stone resembles a Chinese junk, and is mirrored by the arrangement beyond it.
Sotan retired in 1509 and it is generally thought that the L-shaped garden was laid out to adorn his retirement quarters.  The plots are long and narrow; that to the north is approximately 5 x 10m while the eastern section is about 16 x 4.5m. In the corner at the right angle rise the tallest stones in the garden, which give the impression of towering mountains; one of these stones is referred to as Mount Horai (Shumisen).  To the right of these rises a 'dry' mountain stream, narrow and precipitous as it tumbles between rocks.  The stream is crossed by a flat stone bridge, set at the level of the veranda of the building, and then widens to flow south.  At about the midpoint the 'water' runs over a flat-topped stone, set almost at ground level, before disappearing under a (later) corridor which connects the Abbot's quarters to the main building.  The stream continues past a stone shaped like a boat (funeishi) before finally disappearing beneath the veranda.  It emerges into the southern garden which is flat and entirely covered with white raked sand broken only by two conical mounds.  This section of the garden is referred to as the 'Universal Sea', an image that is maintained by the surrounding double-banked hedge, which may be read as a symbolic representation of waves.  The scroll-like effect of the garden is broken only by the roofed walkway, with its typically Zen-inspired bell-shaped opening, which dates from a radical restoration of the garden in 1961, based on plans from the later Edo period; it is doubtful whether this walkway existed in the original scheme and it certainly interrupts the visual flow.  Nearly 100 stones are set in the garden, in compositions which derive from Chinese landscape painting.  The famous panels in the rooms facing onto the garden feature landscape paintings by Soami.  The composition includes crane and tortoise islands, reinforcing the underlying symbolic content with its allusion to the paradise motif.
The tall stone on the left is Mt. Shumisen
It is always difficult to be sure how important the symbolic content, as to garden design, although it is clear that the Daisen-in garden can be read as symbolic in its entirety.  Clearly symbolism was of concern to garden designers in their use of motif.  However the greatest artistic triumph of the garden lies in its unequivocal relationship with Chinese landscape painting, and as such the garden can be recognised as a masterpiece.  Its present popularity is well deserved even if distracting to the visitor attempting to view the garden in peace and quiet.

South garden representing the sea. The double hedge to the rear represents waves on the sea.

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Thursday, 25 July 2013

Clouds Of Becoming


Stones dark stained
mosses so verdant now –
dharma rain falling silently.


As one heart 
speaks to another,
the blossom remains
 on the tree.


Each breath

each moment of bright hope,
even the longing
becomes a song.


As I drift away
on this slow boat,
perchance we may meet
if only in a dream.


The bowl
now empty and cool,
still,
taste lingering on.





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Tuesday, 23 July 2013

The Origami Of Words



Sonarities echoing
between glass slab walls,
there is urgency in these numbers
lives blind criss-crossing
as thin streams of coincidence,
mere wisps of smoke
on a windy day.


An infinite series of folds
In the unmade bed.
Over there,
Mountains stretch
Distance beyond distance.


Every element
releasing its own song,
the poet too
reaching for his sword.


Mountains, shrouded by mists,
rising beyond curtains of rain,
the body dissolves, atomises,
fragmenting on return
to constituent elements.


Among ancient walls,
The heart may find calm,
As mountains rise and water flows.







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