{"id":19696,"date":"2017-10-26T17:32:37","date_gmt":"2017-10-26T21:32:37","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=19696"},"modified":"2017-10-27T11:45:23","modified_gmt":"2017-10-27T15:45:23","slug":"windsightings","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2017\/10\/windsightings\/","title":{"rendered":"Windsightings"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Lantern<\/a><\/p>\n

[Image: Lantern slide (undated) in the digital collection of Oregon State University. This hand-tinted photograph depicts the Japanese god of wind, Fujin<\/a>; the photo’s subject is a statue of the god, found in the Iyemitsu Temple, Nikko, Japan. (Found on Flickr<\/a>, and used here under a Creative Commons license — thank you!) That thing slung across his shoulders is not a giant sausage but a bag of wind. For another photograph, see this page of illustrations<\/a> in a travel guide by one Joseph Ignatius Constantine Clarke (!), published in 1918.]<\/em><\/p>\n

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

Utopia<\/strong><\/p>\n

Island where all becomes clear.<\/p>\n

Solid ground beneath your feet.<\/p>\n

The only roads are those that offer access.<\/p>\n

Bushes bend beneath the weight of proofs.<\/p>\n

The Tree of Valid Supposition grows here
\nwith branches disentangled since time immemorial.<\/p>\n

The Tree of Understanding, dazzlingly straight and simple,
\nsprouts by the spring called Now I Get It.<\/p>\n

The thicker the woods, the vaster the vista:
\nthe Valley of Obviously.<\/p>\n

If any doubts arise, the wind dispels them instantly.<\/p>\n

Echoes stir unsummoned
\nand eagerly explain all the secrets of the worlds.<\/p>\n

On the right a cave where Meaning lies.<\/p>\n

On the left the Lake of Deep Conviction.
\nTruth breaks from the bottom and bobs to the surface.<\/p>\n

Unshakable Confidence towers over the valley.
\nIts peak offers an excellent view of the Essence of Things.<\/p>\n

For all its charms, the island is uninhabited,
\nand the faint footprints scattered on its beaches
\nturn without exception to the sea.<\/p>\n

As if all you can do here is leave
\nand plunge, never to return, into the depths.<\/p>\n

Into unfathomable life.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Wislawa Szymborska [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

Epithalamion<\/strong><\/p>\n

The elm weaves the field’s late light, this hill
\nhanging from the tree’s roots like the moon
\nFrom its shadow and the whole
\nworld beneath suspended.<\/p>\n

Roots knead the earth’s thick sorrow.
\nStill, leaves from this.
\nFrom this unshackling, birdsong.<\/p>\n

I am a blade of corn where you kneel,
\nwind and quaking stalk.
\nThe elm’s body a vase of poured sky.<\/p>\n

The tree will die.
\nSomeday, the tree will die.<\/p>\n

For now, this axis—
\nwhat we choose to compass by.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Hannah Fries [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

And I would be the wind, whispering through the tangled woods, running airy fingers over the island’s face, tingling in the chill of concealed places, sighing secrets in the dawn. And I would be the light, flinging over the island, covering it with flash and shadow, shining on rocks and pools, softening to a touch in the glow of dusk. If I were the rain and wind and light, I would encircle the island like the sky surrounding earth, flood through it like a heart driven pulse, shine from inside it like a star in flames, burn away to blackness in the closed eyes of its night.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Richard Nelson [source<\/em><\/a> (not canonical)<\/em>])<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

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

Subway Wind<\/b><\/p>\n

Far down, down through the city\u2019s great gaunt gut
\nThe gray train rushing bears the weary wind;
\nIn the packed cars the fans the crowd\u2019s breath cut,
\nLeaving the sick and heavy air behind.
\nAnd pale-cheeked children seek the upper door
\nTo give their summer jackets to the breeze;
\nTheir laugh is swallowed in the deafening roar
\nOf captive wind that moans for fields and seas;
\nSeas cooling warm where native schooners drift
\nThrough sleepy waters, while gulls wheel and sweep,
\nWaiting for windy waves the keels to lift
\nLightly among the islands of the deep;
\nIslands of lofty palm trees blooming white
\nThat led their perfume to the tropic sea,
\nWhere fields lie idle in the dew-drenched night,
\nAnd the Trades float above them fresh and free.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Claude McKay [source<\/i><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

People think it is impossible to establish a system of ethics without referring to good or evil. But clouds float, flowers bloom, and wind blows. What need have they for a distinction between good and evil? There are people who live like clouds, flowers, and wind, who don\u2019t think about morals, yet many people point to their actions and words as religious and ethical models and praise them as saints. These saints simply smile. If they revealed that they do not know what is good and what is evil, people would think they were crazy.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Thich Nhat Hanh [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

Banana Trees<\/b><\/p>\n

They are tall herbs, really, not trees,
\nthough they can shoot up thirty feet
\nif all goes well for them. Cut in cross<\/p>\n

section they look like gigantic onions,
\nmulti-layered mysteries with ghostly hearts.
\nTheir leaves are made to be broken by the wind,<\/p>\n

if wind there be, but the crosswise tears
\nthey are built to expect do them no harm.
\nAround the steady staff of the leafstalk<\/p>\n

the broken fronds flap in the breeze
\nlike brief forgotten flags, but these
\ntattered, green, photosynthetic machines<\/p>\n

know how to grasp with their broken fingers
\nthe gold coins of light that give open air
\nits shine. In hot, dry weather the fingers<\/p>\n

fold down to touch on each side—
\na kind of prayer to clasp what damp they can
\nagainst the too much light.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Joseph Stanton [source<\/i><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

When the mind is transparent and pure
\nAs if reflected on the mirror-like surface of the water,
\nThere is nothing in the world that you would dislike.
\nWhen it is serene as the light breeze in the sunshine,
\nThere will be no one whom you would like to forget.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Pa-ta Shan-jen [source<\/em><\/a>[)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[Image: Lantern slide (undated) in the digital collection of Oregon State University. This hand-tinted photograph depicts the Japanese god of wind, Fujin; the photo’s subject is a statue of the god, found in the Iyemitsu Temple, Nikko, Japan. (Found on Flickr, and used here under a Creative Commons license — thank you!) That thing slung […]<\/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":"Wislawa Szymborska, Thich Nhat Hanh, and others: 'Windsightings'","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":[247,1393,250,5,251,4159],"tags":[921,4058,4508,4625,4626,4627,4628,4629],"class_list":{"0":"post-19696","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-poetry-writing_cat","11":"category-essays","12":"tag-wislawa-szymborska","13":"tag-richard-nelson","14":"tag-thich-nhat-hanh","15":"tag-claude-mckay","16":"tag-joseph-stanton","17":"tag-pa-ta-shan-jen","18":"tag-hannah-fries","19":"tag-wind","20":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-57G","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19696","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=19696"}],"version-history":[{"count":15,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19696\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":19713,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19696\/revisions\/19713"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=19696"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=19696"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=19696"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}