{"id":17676,"date":"2016-02-05T07:10:16","date_gmt":"2016-02-05T12:10:16","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=17676"},"modified":"2016-02-05T07:03:29","modified_gmt":"2016-02-05T12:03:29","slug":"one-of-everything-at-a-time","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2016\/02\/one-of-everything-at-a-time\/","title":{"rendered":"One (of Everything) at a Time"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"'Nowhere<\/a><\/p>\n

[Image: “Nowhere Man,” by user cayusa on Flickr.com<\/a>. Used here under a Creative Commons license.]<\/em><\/p>\n

From whiskey river<\/em><\/a>:<\/p>\n

One Way In<\/strong><\/p>\n

This is how I hold my place in the world:
\none line at a time, counting beats until
\nthey come out right, chasing the sound of words
\nthe way a dog chases cars to get her fill.<\/p>\n

And this is how I fill my days: I slip
\nthe ink across the page — a second skin —
\nand leave behind the color that my lips
\nprint on the glass, a way of coming in.<\/p>\n

This is how I stay in view: I take down
\neverything exactly how I see it,
\nI say it one way then turn it around
\nto see if there’s another way it fits.<\/p>\n

I hollow out a page to make a nest,
\nI stretch the pen out like a branch and rest.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Joyce Sutphen [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

Sending These Messages<\/strong><\/p>\n

Over these writings I bent my head.
\nNow you are considering them. If you
\nturn away I will look up: a bridge
\nthat was there will be gone.
\nFor the rest of your life I will stand here,
\nreaching across.
\nIf these writings can bring a turn
\nor an echo that touches you — maybe
\na face, a slant, a tune — you will stop
\ntoo and bend over them. When you
\nlook up, your thought will reach
\nwherever I am.
\nI know it is strange. and there is no measure
\nfor this. The only connection we make
\nis like a twinge when sometimes they change
\nthe beat in music, and we sprawl with it
\nand hear another world for a minute
\nthat is almost there.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(William Stafford [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

The original, shimmering self gets buried so deep that most of us end up hardly living out of it at all. Instead we live out of all the other selves, which we are constantly putting on and taking off like coats and hats against the world’s weather.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Frederick Buechner [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Not from whiskey river<\/em>:<\/p>\n

Secret Agent Man<\/strong><\/p>\n

You looked so good at the top of the stairs
\nthat I wonder if you might consider<\/p>\n

standing at the bus stop near Franklin
\nand 22nd at about 6:30 AM,<\/p>\n

wearing a dark overcoat and a red
\nscarf, nodding (just slightly) when<\/p>\n

I pass, and I wouldn’t mind looking
\nOut my office window at about<\/p>\n

10 AM and seeing you (so small I
\ncouldn’t be sure) waving from<\/p>\n

the far corner of the parking lot,
\nand then, at lunch, you could be<\/p>\n

the mysterious man sitting in the bar,
\nthe one who never turns around until<\/p>\n

I am almost out the door with friends
\nwho would have no idea who you are,<\/p>\n

and it would be wonderful to see you
\ndisguised as a UPS man, coming in<\/p>\n

at 3 PM with a large package
\nfull of various useless things<\/p>\n

and a note, telling me exactly
\nwhere I could find you later on tonight.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Joyce Sutphen [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

Sitting In The Orchard<\/strong><\/p>\n

A man sits in an orchard, fruit trees full
\nand the vines plump. He has his head
\non his knee; his eyes are closed.<\/p>\n

His friend says, \u201cWhy stay sunk in mystical
\nmeditation when the world is like this?
\nSuch visible grace.\u201d<\/p>\n

He replies, \u201cThe outer is an elaboration
\nof the inner. I prefer the origin.\u201d<\/p>\n

Natural beauty is a tree limb reflected
\nin the water of a creek, quivering there, not
\nthere. The growing that moves in the soul<\/p>\n

is more real than tree limbs and reflections.
\nWe laugh and feel happy or sad over all this.<\/p>\n

Try instead to get a scent
\nof the true orchard. Taste the vineyard
\nwithin the vineyard.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Jelaluddin Rumi [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

Crazy Horse dreamed and went into the world where there is nothing but the spirits of all things. That is the real world that is behind this one, and everything we see here is something like a shadow from that one. He was on his horse in that world, and the horse and himself on it and the trees and the grass and the stones and everything were made of spirit, and nothing was hard, and everything seemed to float. His horse was standing still there, and yet it danced around like a horse made only of shadow, and that is how he got his name, which does not mean that his horse was crazy or wild, but that in his vision it danced around in that queer way…<\/p>\n

They used to say that he carried a sacred stone with him, like one he had seen in some vision, and that when he was in danger, the stone always got heavy and protected him somehow. That, they used to say, was the reason that no horse he ever rode lasted very long. I do not know about this; maybe people only thought it; but it is a fact that he never kept one horse long. They wore out.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Nicholas Black Elk [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[Image: “Nowhere Man,” by user cayusa on Flickr.com. Used here under a Creative Commons license.] From whiskey river: One Way In This is how I hold my place in the world: one line at a time, counting beats until they come out right, chasing the sound of words the way a dog chases cars to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","h5ap_radio_sources":[],"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"The attentional blink: 'the phenomenon that the second of two targets cannot be detected or identified when it appears close in time to the first' (Scholarpedia)\r\n\r\n'One (of Everything) at a Time': a serial rumination","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[247,1393,250,5,50,36,251,4159],"tags":[1345,1504,2631,3062,3367],"class_list":{"0":"post-17676","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-ruminations","7":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","8":"category-art","9":"category-06_writing","10":"category-language-writing_cat","11":"category-reading","12":"category-poetry-writing_cat","13":"category-essays","14":"tag-william-stafford","15":"tag-frederick-buechner","16":"tag-joyce-sutphen","17":"tag-black-elk","18":"tag-rumi","19":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-4B6","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17676","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=17676"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17676\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":17684,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17676\/revisions\/17684"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17676"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=17676"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=17676"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}