Saturday, January 22, 2011

Monday at MoMA everyone was with me...

Standing at MoMA in the Abstract Expressionist show the wonder and power, the breath and ease: there I was getting horny with the excitement of these incredible objects created and expressed, let go. Kline, De Kooning, Rothko, Gottlieb: Oy!

For me, because of Dick Baker and Frank O'Hara, teachers of a different order, and then our friends of the NY School of poems there is this sense of personalness, which I'd call intimacy but that I feel it is a term too much used and when used often lacking the specificity of its momentary eternal instant of realization totally monkeying with time and space. The experience of the painter communicating directly and our response in another time and place somehow still though direct: a speaking in the same place, agreement or not it little matters. This place is always here.

O'Hara called his version Personism: this keen awareness that we are people working independently and together, responding to one another and what is and then for it to yield the portraits and the poetry and the people doing it, a sort of sharing and inviting into the creative conversation of each of our little lives wilderness: grains of sand, Ganges...All this while on lunch break, doing an errand, smiling at a stranger in the elevator, at the checkout counter in the grocery store: a personalness, a connectedness, a creativity; the sand box or petrie dish of life.  What’s going to happen?

Each of us this one grain, a person meeting life rising: nothing and everything, serious and yet ironic, humorous, light and all there is. 

And then of course realizing this in the living presence of all those, an ever widening circle including gratitude for those we do not even know have made it possible for us to recognize and consciously share in this feast. 

For me on one level it would be people like Heraclitus, Blake, Rubens…Ezra Pound, Charles Olson, Heidegger, Barthes, Merleau Ponty…on another level Shakyamuni, Bodhidharma, Dong Shan, Dogen, Ikkyu, Suzuki Roshi, Dick Baker, Philip Whalen and through him Gary Snyder and Allen Ginsberg and so many more including, Mom, Jesa, Aunt Dorothea, Chogyam Trungpa and Sakyong Mipham all this strung together by Buddhism: wonder, discovery, sharing and passing on some way to hold and allow it all to...self lumen: a personalness beyond you and me.

How is it all strung together for you?  If you don’t know, just find one thread and follow it all the way.


Thinking of Darlene Cohen and Lou Hartman both long time zen students who died recently...

All bells, gongs, drums and conch shells sounded, incense, fruit, sweet tea and light has been or will be offered soonish as the vessels float out into sky-ocean-rock-fire of dharma.  Oh the super-density of space!  The incredible blackness of light: aching, being, bliss!

With love

John

Yesterday morning, Friday, 21 January 2011 about this time: 0937

This, thus far, has been the winter of SNOW! 
Closing on three feet in last couple of weeks, 
it is snowing right now and has been since about 0300.  
Schools are closed, nary a car or a peep on the white street. 
Snow covered Victorian house rooftop angles mix 
with leafless tree limb tangles, 
all merging into vanishing line 
between ground and gray sky: 
which end's up?

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Shout and Dance

                                                               Robyn Ellenbogen’s painting Shout and Dance



Shout and Dance


All beings walking
Always

Within light
Light that is darkness
The black of black
Luminous

Calling

Aching, being, bliss

Beyond within

Pealing

Gone

Svaha!



12:I:11
John Bailes
First response to Robyn Ellenbogen’s painting Shout and Dance

A Shape of Longing

 Robyn Ellenbogen’s drawing A Shape of Longing

A Shape of Longing


What we want to see is no longer, cannot be.

I grasp the woods, like in thicket.
I see people, like in dream.
Time, distance, shape, perspective: gone.

There is no more.

I stand open in this vision.
Everything so close, enbrambled:
Chaos and line;
Density beyond sight.

Releasing the hand of apprehension:
Perspective once held so dear,
Thus so tight.

Bound:

Not willing or seeming capable to allow;
All things appeared as they should be
Or they were not.

And now I stand here trusting
A release I never asked for
Thrust into the density of this open.

I crawl and I cry.

Letting, I know seeing may not come.

But this longing for the intimacy of
To make, to hold, to touch,
Will never go.

As we float together and apart, always and never
In this world peopled by our
Being,

What part of me are you?


12:I:11
John Bailes
Somerville MA
First response to Robyn Ellenbogen’s drawing A Shape of Longing.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Talk about opening our heart!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-F-MA-d3gts&feature=channel


There's n ot much to say except: "Enjoy this!"

I thank my friend Iva Jones for turning me on to these musicians:

Chritina Pluhar - L'Arpeggiata: Via Crucis (Version française)

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Lew Welch

What strange pleasure do they get who’d

Wipe whole worlds out

ANYTHING
To end our lives, our

Wild idleness?
But we have charms against their rage—
Must go on saying, “Look,
If nobody tried to live this way
All the work of the world would be in vain.”

And now and then a son, a daughter, hears it.

Now and then a son, a daughter

gets away.