I’ve been watching an HBO show that’s been on AMAZON PRIME. I view it on my TV set using my ROKU device. It’s called IN TREATMENT. In the moment of a recent episode, the shrink asked the young man, “What are you thinking?” The youth replied, “White noise”.
I had to laugh at that one. The laughter of recognition I suppose. My own mind registered that. Not thinking anything really. Yet not being mindful either. I ‘m most aware of that white noise when the decision is made to write. Like now. It’s a rain filled, raw, cold day here in North Carolina. Write, I said.
All levels of me self-agreed to write something. A blog. Here I am. What have I got? White noise just like the kid on the program.
Lately, I’ve thought to try my hand at writing short little Japanese Mindfulness Poems called Haiku which are Japanese poem of seventeen syllables, in three lines of five, seven, and five, traditionally evoking images of the natural world. Cutting written language, relatable to anyone and maybe paradoxical in some way.
Sounds easy. Not so much. You’d think the white noise would help but the instant that pressure is felt to come up with even one word, the mind is suddenly filled with nonsense and resistance. No no, not always, listen . . .
I really like the idea of clipping out a moment that is a pure now moment – a reflection of whatever catches the attention of the psyche.
The other day I sat down on the sidewalk in front of my apartment to experience a moment or two of sunshine. Looking down at the ground before me, there is one pear tree flower all by itself in the dirt–alone and separated from the tree and other flowers on the branch from which it blossomed.
What struck me is that even though it was alone there, its center filaments seemed to still be reaching up toward the sun, the light.
Spring flower in dirt
Alone, apart from its branch, tree
Looks up to the light
My Haiku poem. Is it legit? Well, I guess they’re not really required to rhyme to qualify. Here are a few from one of the supposed greatest Haiku Poets, Basho:
An old silent pond…
A frog jumps into the pond,
splash! Silence again.
Autumn moonlight—
a worm digs silently
into the chestnut.
In the twilight rain
these brilliant-hued hibiscus –
A lovely sunset.
The translations from Japanese to English do not follow the 5, 7, 5 syllable rule. Anyway, none of those rhyme but they do describe the moment in time, a now. Seems a good use of spare time to use Haiku poem writing endeavors to help a person remain aware of their now, mindfulness. I guess you know what I mean, reader, right?
The small flower all alone there just seemed to say to me, “Look, I know that I no longer am connected to the life force upon the earth that sustained me (the tree) and I’m aware that I will soon just become the earth itself, whithering away here. And I know my family of flowers on the branch above me–they are all looking down upon me aware of my fate, but I can still be nourished by the light, the sun. The filaments, the anther, the stamen of me are still reaching up to the light even in my death here and in my departure, the ground here before you where I lay is bringing you some joy and beauty before I disappear completely. ” Looking at the singular flower was my meditation.
After writing those last words my head turned toward the window where I see the tree with all their beautiful white blossoms knowing that soon they will all fall upon the ground as the green leaves push them off their branches. They too will end up in the dirt and on the sidewalk. But they will return next spring to do it all again. There is no death, only transition into yet another phase.
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