Battle Creek, Michigan, USA I’m reading a marvellous little book called “Dispatches from the Global Village” by my friend Derek Evans. Derek is a remarkable individual, having most notable served two terms as the Deputy Secretary General of Amnesty International. He now lives in the Okanagan Valley in British Columbia and is the spouse of my long time homeopath, Pat Deacon. What I really like about Derek is that he embodies a certain tempered optimism that the human species is capable of great things despite it also being capable of unimaginable acts. Derek has assembled a book out of a …
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I’m really enjoying finding poetry that seems to relate, in an off-handed way, to hosting and the process arts.Here is Andrea Baker, from the new issue of TYPO 9: PROPOSAL Each point was also a center at the grief which was many-centered and gatherings hungered in the throat and at the mouth of each many-grief which all foamed to begin a new burden to lay fresh on the world so I set out a bowl for light to rest in as long as the long breath pushing but what is random never quiets and the will was random was pulling …
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From a paper on Korean poetry comes this poem by Ko Un, “Ode to Shim-chong:” Indangsu sea, shine dark blue, come rising as a cloudlike drumbeat. The waters, the sailors who know the waters, may know the dark fate of the world beyond that lies past the path that sometimes appears, the weeping of children born into this world, and the sailors may know my daughter’s path. How can the waters exist without the world beyond? Full-bodied fear has now become the most yearned-for thing in the world, and my daughter’s whimpering stillness in the lotus bud will be such; …
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There is a lovely new translation of the Tao te Ching online, which I discovered thanks to the ever mercurial wood s lot. From the introduction to the Book of the Forest Path: I am trying to accomplish a couple of things in the translation that follows. First of all, I have a particular philosophical interpretation of Taoism, and I am trying to see how far it can be reflected in a translation. I think it is not compatible with the translations I’ve seen. Second, I’ve tried to make it plain and cool English. My objection to the existing …
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The Wayfarers by Rupert Brooke Is it the hour? We leave this resting-place Made fair by one another for a while. Now, for a god-speed, one last mad embrace; The long road then, unlit by your faint smile. Ah! the long road! and you so far away! Oh, I’ll remember! but . . . each crawling day Will pale a little your scarlet lips, each mile Dull the dear pain of your remembered face. . . . Do you think there’s a far border town, somewhere, The desert’s edge, last of the lands we know, Some gaunt eventual limit of …