strike the bell seven times

patty hammerstedt

even midnight is waiting for midnight. don't be afraid, child, accept the darkness. walk bravely into the blackness. it doesn't even matter which direction you choose, just walk. sooner or later you'll see a light. go there. the closer you get, the better you will feel about things. in that light you will see everyone you have ever known. some of them right away, and the rest of them sooner or later. you see, child, this much is true - midnight comes around for everyone. 

james lee jobe

if failure is a great unlearning, meditation is a profound act of failure.

sarah kokernot, “failure as liberation”

some days we are using pantomime to explain the poem. we are naked and building a bridge. we have no tools or supplies except for the color blue. we are also blue. there are pieces of poetry and bits of blue scattered across the baseball diamond, and the players move around them carefully. it is very easy to trip and fall. the sky is blue, we are blue, so are the players, the field, and the pieces of poetry. we notice that everyone seems sleepy. the fans in the stadium are confused by our pantomime. the poem is long and complicated. nothing rhymes and no one seems to get it. the bridge doesn't really go anywhere. the national anthem begins to play over a cheap loud speaker, and sounds tinny and far away. it is blue, and was recorded in a different century. the soldiers point their rifles at us all, and we stand with our right hands over our blue hearts. we didn't want the poem to end this way, but alas, it has. 

james lee jobe

the sutter buttes, northern california 

to obtain satori, one must let go of the ego. to receive everything, one must open one's hands and give. 

taisen deshimaru

you are planting souls in your garden. it is early spring. you have worked all through the night under a yellow moon. one soul in each hole, seven holes in each row. seven rows. you will water them with liquid dreams throughout the summer. as you toil, you hope for a good harvest, and you say a prayer. finally, you are finished. it is dawn and you strike the bell seven times. seven angels appear and bless your work. each angel takes a turn holding you. they each place their long, cool hands on your face and kiss your forehead and your eyes. one angel at a time. the sky is clear and blue, and from the trees you hear the beautiful sound of birds. 

james lee jobe

anyone can make the simple complicated. creativity is making the complicated simple.

charles mingus

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thanks! jlj