2011-01-03

Day 21,700 - 2010 1231



Day 21,700 - 2010 1231
Belov-ED Days - 4,611
Friday
James Oliver Smith, Jr.
http://josjr.com/

I Ching images

Fu Hsi 28: Shock, Thunder, Taking Action, Awakening
01 --- --- Thunder (Lightning, Electricity, Viper, Rattlesnake, Drums)
02 --- --- Foot
04 --------x The Arousal, The Movement, The Catalyst, The Shock

08 --- --- Thunder (Lightning, Electricity, Viper, Rattlesnake)
16 --- --- Foot
32 -------- The Arousal, The Movement, The Catalyst, The Shock

changing towards

Fu Hsi 32: Returning, Repeating, Turning Back
01 --- --- Earth (Ground, Valley, Canyon, Earthworm, Desert)
02 --- --- Belly, Solar Plexus
04 --- --- The Embracing, The Creation, The Yielding, The Centering

08 --- --- Thunder (Lightning, Viper, Drums, Rattlesnake, Electricity)
16 --- --- Foor
32 -------- The Arousal, The Movement, The Catalyst, The Shock

Day 26,696 - Images from the I Ching: Thunder [The Arousal] over Thunder [The Arousal] (Hexagram 28 - Shock) --> changing towards [lines 4] --> Earth [The Embracing] over Thunder [The Arousal] (Hexagram 32 - Returning) ... I have been looking at these images since the last day of 2010, contemplating them as I participated in a number of events taking place to celebrate the arrival of a new year and the arrival of yet another 60th birthday for the Contessa ... I was fascinated with the presence of the double Thunder image on the last day of a rather shocking year ... There are always surprising events taking place in the course of any year, although often these events are infrequent, mild or benign ... This year, however, has been truly filled with traumatic events for me, so the double Thunder feels quite appropriate ... After the events of this year I will probably never work in a full-time permanent, full-benefits job again, my post-surgery vision profile is simply too compromised for me to work in the same way again, and my experiences at the various celebrations brought home to me and The Contessa just exactly how compromised my vision has become.

Meeting with a poet, performance artist friend this past week at Sebastian Joe's another poet and performance artist friend, one who is well known and quite visually distinctive in presence came in and greeted me. I stared at him in total confusion, not recognizing him. I had to ask who was greeting me and was totally surprised at how completely incapable I was of recognizing him. At another party last night another friend came into the room entirely undetected by me. Suddenly, she appeared as though Scotty had just transported her into the middle of the room, a phenomenon I have had to become accostomed to.

With a lot of tools, techniques and many years of experience I have been finding ways to work with my computers, web sites and Kindles. Fortunately, the Kindle allows me to read and study. But the double Thunder wasn't satisfied with just taking my vision into the realm of impressionist art. It determined that my job should also disappear in much the same manner that the loss of my stereoscopic vision, my acuity and my ability to dilate my one functioning eye has made the world around me disappear, reappear, morph and pixelate ... But the inner and outer Thunder, despite its clammer and shock and awe is not all about high winds, lightning strikes, floods and driving rain, it is also about a heightened awareness of the world, the physical world, the world that we walk on, touch and hear as it churns through its cyclic paths in time and space ... In spite of how much we like to _see_ the world, and tend not to believe the world until we can see it, we do have bodies that are moving our heads, eyes, legs and hands through physical space ... We have lungs that breath in very physical air and we drink very physical water to lubricate everything we do.

The double Thunder has, in some ways/way, electrified, activated and set in motion a more visceral process of connecting with that which co-occupies my world, without the precarious visual burden of evaluating the world and all that is in it _before_ I touch it, taste it, smell it or even hear it ... I have become increasingly aware of how our prejudices are triggered by our _visual_ response to the world around us and all that is in it ... If you can't _see_ something, how can you react to its color, its shape or its movement? We actually have to engage the world when vision is not present of compromised. With sight we make judgements on whether or not we _want_ to interact with something or someone _before_ we get close enough to do so.

When I was in high school and still enthralled with the idea of being a herpetologist (one who studies reptiles and amphibians) I encountered a rattlesnake den at the foot of a cliff in Washington state. The rattlesnakes where hidden deep in the volcanic rubble beneath my feet, so I couldn't see them, but I could hear them quite clearly. Every step I took gave rise to more rattlers sounding off. Terror rippled within every muscle in my body. I was caught by the need to make a decision to either move quickly or stand still ... Within the I Ching, Thunder is movement, a catalyst, an electrically charged context. Ultimately, I moved. I moved quickly. Because of this experience I think of that rattlesnake den everytime I see Thunder forming within the I Ching stalks.

There is one changing line in this image. It is moving the outer Thunder to Earth. This new image is exactly at the midpoint of the 64 permutations within the I Ching sequence. This is a sign if returning, starting over. The end of the year is the beginning of another year. This is also the time when the sun starts its journey back into the sky. Within the outer Earth there is a centering, stabilising and centering force that enters the world around us, yet the catalyst of Thunder is still pulsing within, rumbling, impatient to act, but this time tempered by the presence of Earth.

Although I am fully aware that there are always more earthquakes, storms and floods that the Universe can (and will) bring my way, I find comfort in this substantive presence of the Earth embracing me, offering its valleys, canyons and even deserts to reveal new paths to explore ... Another year, new paths, new visions ... buon capodanno a tutti! ... Il Matto ...

http://ichingreflections.blogspot.com/

http://www.KindleBlog.josjr.com
http://www.IlMattoblog.josjr.com
http://www.LifeBlog.josjr.com
http://www.PerlBlog.josjr.com
http://www.WritingBlog.josjr.com

http://Addewid.blogspot.com
http://CyberPoetPlace.blogspot.com
http://IlMattoVero.blogspot.com
http://josjr69.blogspot.com
http://PerlCatalyst.blogspot.com
http://CyberKindle.blogspot.com

http://www.CyberPoet.com
www.addewid.com
www.fracturedparadise.com
www.roseannlloyd.com
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www.perlcatalyst.com
www.ciriad.com

2011-01-02

The Contessa At Sixty ... Again

The Contessa At Sixty ... Again
-------------------------------

yesterday
The Contessa celebrated
her sixtieth birthday ...

again ...

it was our 4,613th day together ...
with cold, snow and overcast skies outside
it was a day to stay inside
and ruminate ...

she seems to be fond of this
sixtieth year ...
it resonates
like a long pause
on the side of a busy road ...
a time to catch her breath
and decide--
with care--
on her next step ...

inside my remaining eye
glaucoma has started to air brush images,
removing the disheveled textures of time,
leaving soft, pastel impressions
of faces, hands and legs ...

the universe has its own ways to
equalize generations,
giving us the option
to improvise with light,
like Matisse, Monet and
Giacomo Balla ...

I'm perfectly happy to inhabit
these gently applied strokes
upon the canvas ...

with her ...

even our walking sticks dissappear
within the fused hues and
floral mists ...

if she decides to linger ... here ...
for another year--
at this most gentle of decades--
I'll be able to catch up,
allowing us tap ... dance ... together ...

in step ...

our way into the humid
breeze that calls us
beneath the yellow, green and musty
folds of cespugli cangianti*
in the farthest,
lush and mysterious edges
of this scene ... (il matto)

* - color shifting, prismataic shrubs

josjr (2010 0102)

2010-12-01

The Flower Pot

The Flower Pot
--------------

I guess I wasn't all that
surprised to see a flower pot
sitting outside our door

La Contessa had asked me
to take pots from the balcony
down to the garage and
clean them out

that was just a few hours before

they belonged to friend of ours
down the hall

so I looked down
at the flowers
at my feet
bright
as spring

(rising dainty to my eye)

and bent over
to pick them up--
pot and all

my fingers
formed a cradle for the pot
itself
preparing for the lift

but when they reached the object
down there
they recoiled
in confusion

for the pot
had morphed into

something
soft
giving in to confused fingers
expecting ceramic
or molded polypropylene

not--
a canvas bag

containing muffins

from the neighbor friend
...
instead
...
such wonderful miracles
occur
when the eyes
forget
to feed the brain

josjr (2010 1201)

2010-11-27

Spinning Disk

Spinning Disk
----------

400 pounds
I was--
Beyond the scope of reality ...
That is ...
Beyond the scope of the spinning disk
that stops at 300 pounds.

300 pounds of of visibility --
But, there I was

Beyond ... beyond ... beyond the horizon ... Gone,
Vanished from the caring...
From the fantasy --

But who cares!?
I say...

The blood has to burn with a names like Fatfish
Idiot ... Incompetent ...
as terms of gnarled endearment

Where love becomes a word ... no ... an artifact ...
a whatnot thrown upon the coffee table
in the presence of company.

josjr(2010 0125)
...
http://josjr.com

2010-11-26

Snapping Beast

Snapping Beast
----------

It's hard to lift a snapping beast.
It's hard to raise a child.
It's hard to sit beside a son
There, on the other side of the front seat
Becoming almost too large to fit --
Ready to take the steering wheel.
"Hey, dad," he says, "What's that in the road?"

Through the windshield a large turtle
Clutches with helpless feet turned up.
"Let's help it," says the son.
The bridge is close, a field nearby.
Together, with a goalie stick, father and son lift
And dodge angry jaws.
The young man's muscles flex...

It's hard to lift a snapping beast.

josjr(2010 0504)

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King Snake

King Snake
----------

"So, what do you remember of me," I ask my dad,
Holding the microphone in his direction.

"Well, Jim," he fidgets, fingering his chin and the glassy air
That glistens by his skin, "I just can't remember much of anything...
Working all the time and all."

I gaze into the void that he has spread out on the table...
Dark, chilled ... quivering in confusion.

A coiled landscape twists gauntly
In the shadows and I see the worry gather in the faces of parents
Breathing in the stormy night beyond the headlights.

I remember a small flood in the road --
Mud splattering brown on the windows streaked with water webs.
A house rises ...
And there it is ... the snake ... long as my father ...

That man, who can't remember, is chasing the night streak.

I asked if he can remember the snake he chased away.
The snake that lumbered heavily in my eyes, just below the skin.

"No, not that one...but those snakes?" he lilted into a question, "they're called King snakes, because they were brought here from some other country by the King ranch to kill the rattlers."

He didn't remember...exactly...
But he did remember the King snakes.

josjr(2010 0504)
http://www.facebook.com/josjr69
http://josjr.com

2010-11-25

Hey, Dad!

Hey, Dad!
---------

I saw you through the plate glass window at Lori's, on the corner
of Cleveland and Buford streets.
At least I thought it might be you-- your shape--the way you stand--that wild tangle of hair--

But the chances were slim since you said "I am uncomfortable because of time
gone by."

Then there were the street crossings
to avoid me on the other side --
The times you vanished in the bookstore as I walked in --
Your face covered with hair like an infant--out of sight--invisible--
But I saw you --- anyway --- through the bouquet --
Your face hidden in red and fear --

How does a father become so trivial ... so sinister ... so discard-able ... ?
Sure, the divorce ... a sun-baked prairie of distance --
Now a decade
And there you are, waiting for a light to turn ...

Do I step out? ... become the beast that barges from a savage, dark wood?
Do I wait for you to pass by ... another decade slipping through?

I step into the light and approach the curb, watching the signal ...
Will you reveal some truth? ... acknowledge?
Retreat or hide? ... scamper to the thicket of streets and cars?

You pass by -- oblivious -- no evasion -- no fear --
I watch your form from the back grow small a block away -- I turn to face the
rest of my day ... puzzled ... perhaps relieved ...
As I descended the steps into the student center a voice breaks out from the sky somewhere:

"Dad! ... Jim! ... Dad!"

I turn with weak, tired eyes and stare into a glaring sun
and the silhouette of a young woman.

--it is you --

"Hi," I say. -- "Hi," you respond ...

I can't figure out why you would run -- not walk -- two blocks to reach me in this way --

It was a short conversation ... a few phrases exchanged ... you asked about my walking stick,
then you say -- "Just because we don't talk, doesn't mean I don't think about you ..."
Then you are gone or I am gone maybe I am not even there.

All I can do was watch you, once a again growing small growing distant
obscure ...

josjr(2010 0127)
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