The Struggle

First write the sentence

The struggle to spark inspiration:

Sometimes you have to climb the ladder to reach the summit

even if the ladder is not there.

The day was cold on our last meeting. We would be strangers to each other again.

Sincerity of the morning mist:

A hummingbird approaches the wisteria.

A heard conversation: Some gestures can’t cover inadequacies,

there will be time.

A leaky roof and a wet page, words washed away

A distraction that misplayed a pitch.

Today I will get the trowel, plant 

a lemongrass on the page.

 

Effort or Toil

A monk asks: What is toil? What is effort?
Writing is effort, a struggle what fits.
What has meaning?
-
It is hard to be sad at springtime.
Sadness strikes like a lightning
Asks no permission.
-
Sometimes I understimate light
I overstep on the shadows
I have to start the matrices again
Mistakes are done with pleasure
Neither with sadness
Just remeasuring with more attention.
-
I can go and fly the kite or go fishing.
There is no forecast of rain.

note: It is springtime. I'm more distracted these days. I watching the FIDE Chess Candidates Tournament
going on in Toronto, Canada. Strated on April 3, 2024.

A Thought or Two

1

I see a stretch of time

the sword that will cut it to pieces

each piece flies and scatters

over forests, villages, rivers

I stand there

on the mountain top wondering

how I can chase each piece

2

Flowers , like orchids or primproses,

grow side by side in the garden

at certain times

cross its other’s river of consciousness

bees attracted by colors seen or unseen

eavesdrop, carry their conversations away.

note: I walked to the river yesterday and colored my day with flowers.

Purpose

Pain inches it’s way 

like shadows

inside my consciousness.

Walk with changes

like phases of the moon

the differences, transitory.

Excellence can stammer 

simple part of grace

earth possesses no perfection.

The allure is the significance

like a lamp 

light spreads distance

Go then

explore

the footsteps

“Calm 

can bring sleep

in darkest night of the soul”

Ask yourself or them

how to find, not aimlessly,

purpose in life.

note: The books I’m reading: The Women I Think About at Night / Traveling the Paths of My Heroes by Mia Kankimaki and The Extinction of Irena Rey by Jennifer Croft

Photos from my walk to the river

WATCHING

Today

I watch a young girl plays the flute

A fish circles inside a large circular aquarium

The music fills the living room

The fish stops and surfaces after two circular turns

The girl smiles, looks at the fish

Then continues playing with passion

The fish circles twice and sufaces

The girl glances, continues playing 

The fish circles, pauses and resumes

Both immerse with time, entangled in music

Each enjoying each other performance

The music stops, the melody lingers

The girl and the fish resume each other’s engagement

Each changed by the moment.

–

Outside the window

Daffodils bloom.

Further away

Wars rage.

Teasing

even

absence can

be eloquent

what then

is presence,

overwhelming?

Meandering

the tiny sounds

     of wind chimes

          children’s laughter

–

the time to make a decision,

     is it now?

          o, the eagerness of procrastination

Starting Point

I must start somewhere for leisure or misfortune:

A palm tree outside our door, well spread leaves like wings

I walk with my walking stick to the river in pleasant weather

My balance mildly affected after I contracted long term covid

I slow my walk wary of obstacles, tiny and not always obvious

not evading the voice of reason: “Look and listen.”

I’m not anxious or scared.

I’m not hearing a chorus of voices.

I accept willingly the circumtances

like being aware of bones when eating a whole fish,

not fillet but a whole fish with improved flavor and texture.

–

A flower bud sprouting along the path

brings desirable pleasure when walking

or a startled bird or a squirrel that looks perplexed

looking one way or another way, leaving

the tree branches quiverring.

–

Or a starting ipoint can be my neighbor

who greets me a good day expression

and telling me, today is a day to rejoice,

to celebrate his friend’s arrival. 

They met in college, she says.

They plant tulips at the same time 

every year in their own gardens

music they share of different tastes

but Beethoven they both adore.

–

I have to say goodbye to my friendly neighbor

not every morning starts with a dissertation

though without mention of life’s calamities or extravagance

either of the river or at sea.

The books I’m reading: Fates and Furies by Lauren Groff, The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe and The Science of Learning Physics by Jose P. Mestre and Jennifer L. Docktor

Conversation

You look at me and shake your head

I’m often late when we meet

You say I often complain of running out of time

That my idea of time is distorted 

If I don’t know how to wait

I will always be chasing, you say

You want me to learn how to be a fly fisherman

You say the river will be my classroom

Fly fishing will be my lessons

I have to study

At night you want me to listen to Gregorian chants

To be humble, to accept simplicity

It’s difficult

Time is not scarce if I proportion my time for each task

One plate for each food item

Get only what I can finish eating

No food is wasted, you say

Replace the line I lost

Tie the fly thoughtfully 

Cast and wait

No time wasted

No complaint voiced

Unlike a stubborn mule is a stubborn mule

I have to change .

–

The river starts revealing itself to me

I start to notice currents flow faster after the river curves

I see bubbles and appreciate riffles

How the shadows shift at different hour

Where the insects,mayflies and midges, gather,

How to distinguish them from others

How much line to pull or loosen 

I start paying attention

You notice I complain less, much less

I seldom hurry now

I am more courteous, less tense

I learn how to eat with chop sticks.

–

Standing knee-deep in the river

Attempting repeated loops before casting

Becomes meditation in motion

Holds time, a kite frozen in midair 

Someone starts to love me.

–

Books I finished reading:

Happiness Falls by Angie Kim

Our Missing Hearts by Celeste Ng

One Day

One day I have to walk wearing only one shoe

My hand holds the other one

A mishap that happens so quickly

I sway with bending motions

as if I’m falling,

my awkwardness will attract attention,

looks, stares, surprised and scared

not a dereliction or alchemical mistakes.

It seems I lost my balance

I become a wanderer without destination

or I become simply an experiment in transformation:

a moving art of anguish

or the art of vigilance and balance

yin yang movements of shoulders, legs, and feet

few body contortions, grimaces

when measures are unequal

or a disruption like eating corn on the cobb

with two or three teeth missing.

People pass politely offering help

Others offer me many faces

I smile, say thank you,

continue my walk until I reach a park bench.

I sit, start to nurse my painful foot

and fix my broken shoe

distance between relief and agony narrows 

beginning of comfort.

I return to my memory

the joy of walking in the woods again,

a sudden illumination:

I can talk to the trees again.

The birds fly soundless with widely spread wings.

Spring begins today.

–

If there is a great accomplishment today

it is not because spring begins today

or none of my ankles are broken

or because I remember memory of spring,

it’s because a saint is smiling:

“Patience bears all things”.

note: The book I’m reading: Checkout 19 by Claire-Louise Bennett