Watching the Traffic at the Corner of Contradiction and Clarity

[Image: Stairwell at the Landesgalerie Niederösterreich (“State Gallery of Lower Austria”), in Krems an der Donau. (Building designed by Marte.Marte Architects; photo from the Web site of M+G Ingenieure, the engineering firm who actually planned and, I believe, managed its construction.) You might look at this and think, “Eh? Big deal. It’s a concrete stairway!” But no: you’re actually looking at two stairways: one, “the” stairway with the window, the railings, etc.; and one, on the far side of the concrete wall and ceiling — you’re looking at that stairway’s underside. This stairwell houses, in short, a double helix of stairways: the main stair, and the concrete-sealed fire/emergency stair. I’ll add more in a follow-up comment to the post.]

From whiskey river:

The path into the light seems dark,
the path forward seems to go back,
the direct path seems long,
true power seems weak,
true purity seems tarnished,
true steadfastness seems changeable,
true clarity seems obscure,
the greatest art seems unsophisticated,
the greatest love seems indifferent,
the greatest wisdom seems childish.

(Lao Tzu [source])

…and:

Reading Milosz

I read your poetry once more,
poems written by a rich man, knowing all,
and by a beggar, homeless,
an emigrant, alone.

You always wanted to go
beyond poetry, above it, soaring,
but also lower, to where our region
begins, modest and timid.

Sometimes your tone
transforms us for a moment,
we believe — truly —
that every day is sacred,

that poetry — how to put it? —
makes life rounder,
fuller, prouder, unashamed
of perfect formulation.

But evening arrives,
I lay my book aside,
and the city’s ordinary din resumes —
somebody coughs, someone cries and curses.

(Adam Zagajewski, translated by Clare Cavanagh [source])

Not from whiskey river:

49. Always meditate on whatever provokes resentment

…Each time we are offended, misunderstood, ignored, put upon, we have the opportunity to see how solidly we hold to our views, opinions, our whole sense of who we are. We can see how when that solidity is threatened, we shut down or lash out, get defensive or find some target to blame. By simply seeing all this more clearly, we are already less trapped.

The point of this slogan is to stop avoiding the issue of resentment, and instead really try to understand how it arises. By doing so, we could actually experience the constructing of a solid reactive self on the spot, while it is happening. The moment we notice that painful tightening and constriction, that closing down, is the time to interrupt and undermine that whole destructive process. We can catch ourselves in the act, so to speak. What seems so solid is exposed as a sham, and our small-mindedness and defensiveness is seen through, so the resentment has nothing to push up against and it dissolves into thin air.

(Judy Lief [source])

…and:

Lemon Tree

A tree that grew in the Garden of Eden
a tree of innocence called
the Tree of Good and Evil. It was harmless

as opposites are in balance. It was also
tasteless,
the taste of innocence before it is betrayed.
When God removed the wall

he gave the lemon thorns and bitterness because it had
no hostility.
It is a taste we want most to subdue. It asks
to be left alone.
We use it with fish and tea. We sugar it.

Look out the window. It stands with a donkey’s
stance, hoping the day will pass.
Its scent through the curtains
cuts through
mustiness, sharp
with sweet blossoms. It hides the smell
of new babies.

(Landis Everson [source])

…and:

No culture has yet solved the dilemma each has faced with the growth of a conscious mind, how to live a moral and compassionate existence when one is fully aware of the blood, the horror, inherent in all life, when one finds darkness not only in one’s own culture, but within oneself. If there is a stage at which an individual life becomes truly adult, it must be when one grasps the irony in its unfolding and accepts responsibility for a life lived in the midst of such paradox. One must live in the middle of contradiction, because if all contradiction were eliminated at once, life would collapse. There are simply no answers to some of the great persistent questions. You continue to live them out, making your life a worthy expression of a leaning into the light.

(Barry Lopez [source])

…and:

The Opposite of Nostalgia

You are running away from everyone
who loves you,
from your family,
from old lovers, from friends.

They run after you with accumulations
of a former life, copper earrings,
plates of noodles, banners
of many lost revolutions.

You love to say the trees are naked now
because it never happens
in your country. This is a mystery
from which you will never

recover. And yes, the trees are naked now,
everything that still breathes in them
lies silent and stark
and waiting. You love October most

of all, how there is no word
for so much splendor.
This, too, is a source
of consolation. Between you and memory

everything is water. Names of the dead,
or saints, or history.
There is a realm in which
—no, forget it,

it’s still too early to make anyone understand.
A man drives a stake
through his own heart
and afterwards the opposite of nostalgia

begins to make sense: he stops raking the leaves
and the leaves take over
and again he has learned
to let go.

(Eric Gamalinda [source])