{"id":20073,"date":"2018-03-09T06:21:35","date_gmt":"2018-03-09T11:21:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=20073"},"modified":"2018-03-09T06:21:35","modified_gmt":"2018-03-09T11:21:35","slug":"only-see-when-you-see","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2018\/03\/only-see-when-you-see\/","title":{"rendered":"Only See When You See"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Image:<\/a><\/p>\n

[Image: “Split,” by a user known simply as “Colin.” (Found it on Flickr<\/a>, of course, and use it here under a Creative Commons license — thank you!) It takes a moment to realize what this actually depicts.]<\/em><\/p>\n

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

It has been said repeatedly that one can never, try as he will, get around to the front of the universe.\u00a0 Man is destined to see only its far side, to realize nature only in retreat.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Loren Eiseley [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a> (italicized lines):<\/p>\n

Catastrophe Theory II<\/strong><\/p>\n

The foot goes forward, yes.
\nYet there are roots. And a giant orb
\nwhich focuses its cyclopic eye
\non a moir\u00e9 morning.
\nWhen the microcosm is dry—it\u2019s earth;
\nwet—it\u2019s water.<\/p>\n

Water, reeds, electric eel: one possibility.
\nSun, reeds, dust mote and mite: another.
\nWhatever the elements
\n(it\u2019s urban\/it\u2019s pastoral,
\nit\u2019s empty\/it\u2019s open), the theory says
\nit could always be worse.<\/p>\n

Until it is. Then theory fails,
\nleaving a tracer mark.
\nFrom blood you come to blood
\nyou go. Sudden things happen
\ninside a frame. A flame is
\nlit. Look<\/p>\n

at those pathetic wiggly squiggles.
\nInferno or garden?
\nAn immeasurable distance
\nsizzles between them.
\nWatching it all. But taking so little in.
\nJust what will fit on the flat<\/p>\n

of a glass lens. The ticker is hopeful.
\nPathetic fallacy.
\nLook at the numbers move.
\nThe mystery of ticks.
\nOne per second, sixty per Mickey.
\nFour becomes ten, one in six<\/p>\n

bombs falls in a bushel, a basket,
\na two o\u2019clock casket. Do you wish to stay<\/em>
\nconnected? The seen blurs<\/em>
\ninto the just heard. A bird outside the wide<\/em>
\nopen window. The warm day<\/em>
\nof March. It changes. It has<\/em><\/p>\n

all changed. The world<\/em>
\nas a distracting disaster.<\/em>
\nMY, what little SENSE you make, said the wolf
\nto Mary Jo. The theory rests
\non a tipping point.
\nThe clock steps in a direction.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Mary Jo Bang [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

The Art of Drinking Tea<\/strong><\/p>\n

A man has been lonely for so long, he fears he is becoming but an apparition, a ghost of who he once was. He takes up wearing a black suit and hat and studying Zen Buddhism with a black-haired woman who has mastered the art of drinking tea. She is one of the few on earth who only drinks tea when she drinks tea. She performs the drinking of tea when she is drinking tea before large audiences. When one is drinking tea, the woman explains, there is no woman, no tea, there is only the drinking of tea. Often while sipping tea and listening to the instructions on the drinking of tea, the man closes his eyes and tries to fully experience the drinking of tea. But he always fails. Instead he dreams of the black-haired woman as an unrobed woman who only makes love when she makes love. He pictures her first removing his hat, then slowly unbuttoning him from the dark coat of his life. She lifts him to her lips like a china cup and sips so slowly, a one night stand lasts 49 days and nights. In the end there is no woman, no tea, no man. Just thinking of it, he barely remembers his own name. In this way he attains enlightenment.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Nin Andrews [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

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

I had the Tibetan Book of the Dead<\/em> in the trunk of my car. It occurred to me to use it as a topic of conversation, since it dealt with death. I said I was going to read it to him and began to get up. He made me sit down and went out and got the book himself…<\/p>\n

I stayed put nearly all morning reading and explaining some parts of the book to him. He listened attentively and did not interrupt me at all. Twice I had to stop for short periods of time while he brought some water and food, but as soon as he was free again he urged me to continue reading. He seemed to be very interested.<\/p>\n

When I finished he looked at me.<\/p>\n

“I don’t understand why those people talk about death as if death were like life,” he said softly.<\/p>\n

“Maybe that’s the way they understand it. Do you think the Tibetans see<\/em>?”<\/p>\n

“Hardly. When a man learns to see<\/em>, not a single thing he knows prevails. Not a single one. If the Tibetans could see<\/em> they could tell right away that not a single thing is any longer the same. Once we see<\/em>, nothing is known; nothing remains as we used to know it when we didn’t see<\/em>…<\/p>\n

“Perhaps the Tibetans really see<\/em>,” don Juan went on, “in which case they must have realized that what they see<\/em> makes no sense at all and they wrote that bunch of crap because it doesn’t make any difference to them; in which case what they wrote is not crap at all.”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Carlos Castaneda [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

How to Look at Pictures<\/strong><\/p>\n

title after Robert Clermont Witt, 1906<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

Refuse to make eye contact with the subject.
\nHe has been following you around the gallery.
\nYou are certain that he can see down your shirt.
\nLook at other subjects, but know that they, too,
\nare not of primary interest. Even when they watch
\nyou. Try not to consider what happened
\nto the small girl staring furiously, the thin-faced
\nwoman wanly looking away. Do not think about
\nwhat they had for breakfast, if the bread was hard.
\nCertainly do not consider the odors underneath
\ntheir arms and skirts. Do not allow a breeze into
\nthe room they sit in. Do not assume I am talking
\nabout any painting: step away from the subject.
\nAll subject. Was the painter in love? Do not ask
\nthe question. Imagine you are the painter,
\nblocking out everything you don\u2019t want to see.
\nEverything is out of the picture. Stop looking.
\nStop seeking what isn\u2019t there. Tuck your narratives
\nback in your pocket. Look for perspective, light,
\nshade. Let your eyes wander back to the girl.
\nShe is trying to say something but her mouth
\nhas been painted deliberately shut. Her lips, thin.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Rebecca Morgan Frank [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[Image: “Split,” by a user known simply as “Colin.” (Found it on Flickr, of course, and use it here under a Creative Commons license — thank you!) It takes a moment to realize what this actually depicts.] From whiskey river: It has been said repeatedly that one can never, try as he will, get around […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":20085,"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":"","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":[1243,2908,2979,4691,4692,4693],"class_list":{"0":"post-20073","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-ruminations","8":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","9":"category-art","10":"category-06_writing","11":"category-poetry-writing_cat","12":"category-essays","13":"tag-carlos-castaneda","14":"tag-loren-eiseley","15":"tag-nin-andrews","16":"tag-mary-jo-bang","17":"tag-rebecca-morgan-frank","18":"tag-eyesight-vs-seeing","19":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/03\/split_colin_thumb.jpg?fit=600%2C400&ssl=1","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-5dL","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20073","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=20073"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20073\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":20084,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20073\/revisions\/20084"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/20085"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=20073"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=20073"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=20073"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}