a new trail in old forest

Koson Ohara - Egret On Rainy Night

YOUR BODY TASTES OF FIGS AND OLIVES, and I am here to devour you, bite after delicious bite. Your heart tastes of the kindness of strangers and of the faith that only a child knows. I love that, so I'll eat your heart last, holding it fast in my red-stained fingers.

james lee jobe 

--

Be a lamp, or a lifeboat, or a ladder. 

Help someone's soul heal. 

Walk out of your house like a shepherd.

Rumi

--

Am I not destroying my enemies when I make friends of them?

Abraham Lincoln

Carp and Wisteria, Koson Ohara

HERE IS THE FACE THAT I CALL BEING ALIVE, and here is the other face, that one that I call death. Together they make up the two halves of the mask that I call water, or air, the mask that I call earth. This is the wind on a day so dry that I cannot make tears. This is the sound of my mother weeping, a sound that breaks my heart. This face will not come off in my hands. I am wading out into the river. One step follows another. The water comes over my knees, my hips, my chest. I am not the man that I thought I would become, but at least I am not the man that I was afraid of becoming. Here is my face, look closely. There is no damn lie in it. Goodbye. Now I am swimming away. 

james lee jobe 

--

Computers are useless. They can only give you answers.

Pablo Picasso

--

If I try, maybe I can be of some use today.

james lee jobe 

--

Find your place on the planet. Dig in, and take responsibility from there. 

Gary Snyder

Koson Ohara, Chicken Family

I AM MAKING A NEW TRAIL IN AN OLD FOREST. I do this by walking. Stride by stride, step by step, I mark the earth with the memory of my passing. I am a flag from a brand new nation. I am a large truck that isn't for sale. I can maim and wound with only a glance. I can heal with my touch and my smile. If I were a song, radio stations would not play me for fear of losing listeners. With each step, the earth rises up to meet me. The forest is quiet today, and these pines tower over me like silent giants. What can I do but walk? 

james lee jobe 

--

so delicate

a snake also sheds

his earthly robe

Issa

--

If you pay attention for just five minutes, you know some very fundamental dharma: things change, nothing stays comfortable, sensations come and go quite impersonally.

Sylvia Boorstein

--

You are the universe. The universe is you.

james lee jobe 

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Eternity wears a rain slicker

khôi bảo phạm

some people need compassion 

and cannot find any 

others cannot find compassion 

within themselves 

to share with others 

that all people have compassion 

in their lives    actively 

both to receive and to share 

this I pray 

james lee jobe 

The united states is a nation of laws: badly written and randomly enforced. 

Frank Zappa

LINK: Butter, a poem by Elizabeth Alexander

Freddie Ardley

sit at this desk and consider eternity the measure
of it its shape and scent its presence Outside

there is rain grayness low clouds fat drops slap
the window eternity wears a rain slicker and eases

across the back yard toward the street out of sight
a car drives by the sound of tires on the wet street

james lee jobe

Maybe that's what life is... a wink of the eye and winking stars.

Jack Kerouac

Tim Hardin, If I Were A Carpenter

all the usual things were there 

the daylight   the breeze 

the earth   the sky

a long fence that we walked beside 

a gate that was never closed 

a dog with no plans and no baggage 

we crossed the field 

and the young corn was up to our waists 

we arrived   finally   at the house 

but we didn't open the door to go inside 

we just sat there on the unpainted porch 

a tractor rattled along the gravel road 

I could hear it from a long way off 

there was no tomorrow 

and there was no yesterday 

just now 

under your breath you sang a small song 

how small 

the size of a moth 

on the chorus I quietly joined in 

james lee jobe 

Any idiot can face a crisis - it's day to day living that wears you out. 

Anton Chekhov

LINK: Guardian poem of the week, Life and Song by Sidney Lanier

Freddie Ardley

the full moon is hidden by clouds
and I am mistaken for someone
but I am not anyone at all

i am crawling under the porch
to count on my fingers the number of times
that I was actually needed

I am wearing a veil like a grieving woman
and cutting my arm with broken glass

I am hidden by Tule fog and scarred
from old wounds and from the diseases
that failed to end me

I do not fear the consequences
I am burying my regrets under the porch

the clouds that cover the moon are clearing now
and the fog is a brilliant white in the moonlight

I am coming out now to wash the blood away
and to return this body
this body is a loaner

I am putting one foot in front of the other
I am not looking back

james lee jobe

Reality is only an agreement - today is always today.

Zen Proverb

Freddie Ardley

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Strong books and stronger coffee

strong books and stronger coffee

a fine dog and a finer wife 

a house that is old but comfortable 

and so my old age passes 

one day at a time

---

The street is lit with the beam of years, the swallow and crush of living, and the kindest thoughts of solace. We are the cherubs in an ancient painting, we are the stone gargoyles that protect the stone grayness of the buildings. Moonlight to dress the city for bed. Moonlight to court and seduce those who need to be courted, those who lack seduction. The old clock in the tower strikes midnight and the gates to the next world open; dreams pour into this world and our lives pour into the next one. Are you coming, my friend? This is the hour for which you have waited so very long. 

---

I have been pretending to belong in this world for 66 years

and I have always known better 

---

From falsehood, may I find truth. From despair, may I find hope. From hate, may I find love. From death, may I find life. From the darkness, may I find the light. For these things I pray.

---

my mother pretended that our family was normal 

between her and my father were eight marriages 

I have some stepsiblings that I have never even met 

that's normal 

she beat us    a belt    a ladle    or her hands 

whatever was fastest 

he abandoned us again and again 

once in a bus station 

and that's normal 

my mother was born a presbyterian   became a catholic 

and had a baptist funeral 

I was born a catholic and became  in order  an athiest 

a unitarian universalist   and a buddhist 

I never heard my father or my sister say 

one word about their beliefs   not ever 

that's normal  right 

my sister left home at 15   settled 100 miles away

I left at 17   settled 1500 miles away 

normal 

both parents are gone and while I love them

I don't miss either one 

I miss my sister but we are so different 

that it's hard to be around her 

look at us   the perfect american family

---

Grief. One moment it seems like it might let me pass, like perhaps it forgot about me, then it remembers me and lays me down again.

--

You are a pitcher of cool water; the more thirsts you quench, the more you need to be refilled yourself. Is it night? Then be filled with moonlight, starlight, darkness. Is it day? Then raise your arms to the sunlight, the warmth. Praise that which is greater, both within and without. 

james lee jobe

Joni Mitchell, California 

I am everything you lost. You won't forgive me. 

My memory keeps getting in the way of your history. 

Aga Shahid Ali

---

A goalless practice is about being right here in each moment without any conceptual objective in mind. It means putting the brakes on constantly doing, and starting to just be in the world as you are.

Anthony Tshering 

---

A sleepless spring night; yearning for what I never had, and for what I never was. 

Richard Wright

SANCTUARY, by Darren Moore

If kindness isn't a part of life, then life doesn't make much sense. Maybe you'll cross paths today with somebody who could use a smile or a break. Why not give it to them?

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all the kindness that you can gather

Francis Newton Souza, Head in a Landscape (1958) 

--

I found the hairbrush 

that my son had left behind 

when he left home that last time 

and we never saw him again 

And in that brush was a bit of his hair 

and there with it a bit of my heart 

I held it to my face for a moment 

and breaking down 

I returned it to the drawer

--

James' recipe for a decent day.

Start with the sunrise, leave it out in the fresh air for as long as you can, to expand and grow rich and delicious on its own, the taste improving with each passing second. Every second counts.

Add a measure of hope, and don't be stingy either, make it a good measure of hope. Stir it in slowly, with even loving circles. Hope counts, too, always.

It's hard to find kindness at times, but kindness absolutely improves this recipe. Look for kindness in people's eyes and in their deeds. Look inside your own heart. Add all the kindness that you can gather.

And a recipe like this calls for some work - good, honest work. Work you would be proud to tell your grandparents about, and do this work responsibly and with good cheer. Be present in your work; put yourself into it.

When everything is mixed, let it slow-bake in the oven of your heart, season it with the squealing laughter of children, some favorite songs, and a kiss from a person you love. 

Now I can offer you the old cliche, but with some meaning; have a nice day.

--

our granddaughter runs

laughing and smiling all day 

joy shines like the sun 

--

a murder of crows spend an hour 

occupying the mulberry tree. 

it is a perfect day 

blue sky   not hot   not cold 

breeze   not wind 

the crows are loud but who knows why 

an hour passes and they move on 

why did they come 

why did they leave 

the rest of the day is quiet 

as I write this   september 2017 

my country has been at war for sixteen years 

pointlessly 

poems by james lee jobe

by Zhaoming Wu, pencil

Time goes from present to past.

Shunryu Suzuki, Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind 

--

If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.

Mother Teresa 

--

Life in the World is but a big dream; I will not spoil it by any labour or care.

Li Po

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the final eight peaches

all photos: james lee jobe

__________________

I went out at first light and gleaned

the final eight peaches from the tree

it had been a good peach season this year

rain   light   and love    in equal measure

the birds didn’t ruin too many

the level of sweetness was perfection

and both the size of the peaches

and the size of the crop were appropriate.

I say eight final peaches

for that was how many I held in my shirt-tail

which I used as a basket but truly there are nine

that final peach I ate as soon as I plucked it

dew-wet and cool in the morning air

my house was dark and silent

only I was up so early   5:30 AM

the street was empty as well

just me in my 'grove' of three fruit trees

my goodness   it was delicious

__________________

a windy wet day

and I see my son through an opening

in a stand of pines

          it's been years since the funeral 

__________________

walking the trail between the mountains and the cities

the path of being a true human being

the way between the light and the darkness

you can see crows and owls and lizards

skyscrapers and bridges

trucks laden with nothing important that drive

from nowhere that matters to a place without a name

look for the rivers

look for the desert

learn the names of the plants

sunrise and moonrise and the stars across the sky

this trail   this path   it goes on for one lifetime

you can stop where you want

or turn aside

and you can choose to walk to the end

but whatever you decide to do

keep your heart wide open

so the love can flow in and out

__________________

opening my front door    the past

blows in    uninvited

I open the back door

so it can blow back out again as well

no past   no future   just this moment

may I pour you some tea

__________________

shivering on the north bank

putah creek rolls on under my reflection

the creek moves along

but my reflection remains still

a cold winter morning in winters california

__________________

winding the old clock 

I ask it about all of the hours it has shared with me 

no answer   just the sound of morning rain

__________________

the dharma is my rock 

and this present moment 

               is my flower 

I love to rise early and sit in silence 

long before the rising sun

__________________

love has already won

even if it doesn't look that way

poems by james lee jobe

__________________

Justice is like a train that is nearly always late

Yevgeny Yevtushenko

__________________

Like the craze on porcelain, fine branches

apportion the lonely white sky.

Miyazawa Kenji

__________________

You must personally accept the responsibility of improving your own life.

 Lama Surya Das

__________________

If you are capable of living deeply one moment in your life, you can learn to live the same way all the other moments of your life.

Thich Nhat Hanh 

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the singing of the bees

by Yokoyama Taikan

--

so this is how it is 

to be an old man 

I say that aloud 

and my doggo 

doesn't even look up

--

a wet winter 

followed by a perfect spring 

and my jasmine has bloomed early 

so lovely  and fragrant 

the bees buzz around 

singing 

singing 

--

The city pretended to be a small town, then a village. People wore shoes that had pockets where they could put little things like keys or coins. Every one had their own individual language and spoke only that, a language they invented themselves. Everyone had hallucinogenic mushrooms, everyone was happy. It was all so good that I realized I was dreaming, as I so often do in my dreams. 

--

the days of my death are numbered
from one to ten
day one lasted for ten million centuries
and I grew older, more tired
and less wise every day
the second was shorter than the first
but infused with passion and energy
both positive and negative
I went through the hours loving and fighting
waging war and peace
everything except indifference
I am a slow learner
the third is now ending
a day where I took refuge in the buddha
in the dharma and in the sangha
and so the remaining days do not matter
quite as much   I will sweep and clean

--

Winding the old clock, I ask it about all of the hours it has shared with me. No answer, just the sound of morning rain.

--

poems & prose poems by james lee jobe 

by Yokoyama Taikan

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A worthy book! I love it.

--

Handling our suffering is an art. If we know how to suffer, we suffer much less, and we're no longer afraid of being overwhelmed by the suffering inside. 

Thich Nhat Hanh

--

Reading in the heat of noon

I grow sleepy, put my head

on my arm and doze off.

I forget to close the window

and the warm air blows in

and covers my body with petals.

Yuan Mei

--

Meditation is not just a rest or retreat from the turmoil of the stream of the impurity of the world. It is a way of being the stream, so that one can be at home in both the white water and the eddies.

Gary Snyder

--

Even birds

don't cry now;

that bloodshot

one-eye may have left the sky.

Miyazawa Kenji

--

When you do something, you should burn yourself up completely, like a good bonfire, leaving no trace of yourself. 

Shunryu Suzuki

--

by Yokoyama Taikan

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james