{"id":27950,"date":"2025-02-07T08:59:52","date_gmt":"2025-02-07T13:59:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=27950"},"modified":"2025-02-07T08:59:58","modified_gmt":"2025-02-07T13:59:58","slug":"the-taking-in-the-giving-out","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2025\/02\/the-taking-in-the-giving-out\/","title":{"rendered":"The Taking In; the Giving Out"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

[Image: “He Knew What He Had to Do,” by Alan Levine. Found it on Flickr<\/a>, and am sharing it here (with minimal alteration) under its Creative Commons license — thank you!]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

From whis<\/a><\/em>key river’s commonplace book<\/a><\/em>:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

For the traveler today<\/em>
Among the Zen parables, one koan is called “Just Drinking Tea”. Tea represents Zen spirit: he who tastes it tastes Zen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hot plum tea is offered to a visitor arriving from afar. Honey and sugar are dissolved in hot water and a pickled plum with the seed removed is proffered between the points of chopsticks. The visitor first steeps the plum briefly in the honey water. He then removes and eats it before drinking the tea. The sourness of the plum and the sweetness of the tea relieve the fatigue of the journey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For the cook today<\/em>
The three spirits of zen cooking \u2013
First, the heart of pleasure.
Second, the heart of kindness.
Third, it’s a big deep heart.
Pay attention to everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

These are Dogen’s three spirits<\/em> of zen cooking. The happy spirit<\/em> feels joy and gratitude at the privilege of being assigned the worthy task of cooking, an opportunity to follow the true way. The venerable spirit<\/em> calls upon a kind heart in the pursuit of food that will please the diner. The great spirit<\/em> does not flinch from the smallest detail and offers unwavering help in the unshakable quest for improvement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For all of us today<\/em>
“Taste as much of this as you can. Swallow what you need and spit out the rest.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Taizan Maezumi [source: unknown; appears in a handful of Facebook posts and PDFs but never with an actual citation<\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Home For Thanksgiving<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The gathering family
throws shadows around us,
it is the late afternoon
Of the family.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There is still enough light
to see all the way back,
but at the windows
that light is wasting away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Soon we will be nothing
but silhouettes: the sons’
as harsh
as the fathers’.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Soon the daughters
will take off their aprons
as trees take off their leaves
for winter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Let us eat quickly –
let us fill ourselves up.
the covers of the album are closing
behind us.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Linda Pastan [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

A Winter Notebook<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

2<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I am not available
At the moment
Except to myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Downstairs the plumber
Is emptying the big tank,
Water-logged.
The pump pumped on and on
And might have worn out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So many lives pour into this house,
Sometimes I get too full;
The pump wears out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So now I am emptying the tank.
It is not an illness
That keeps me from writing.
I am simply staying alive
As one does
At times by taking in,
At times by shutting out.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(May Sarton [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From elsewhere:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Physical labor as a bringer of sleep doesn\u2019t seem to do much for me. But the woods do, where thoughts of weather, of food, and of the day\u2019s journey so dominate the mind that everything else subsides. The rise and fall of temperature and of wind, the beginning and the end of rain matter here in a way that is irrelevant elsewhere. With the right gear, it is a pleasure to live with the weather, to wait for sun and feel the cool of rain, to watch the sky with absorption and speculation, to guess at the meaning of succeeding events. I hate feeling miserably wet and cold. But with boots, heavy wool socks, rain pants, rain parka, and a wide-brimmed hat I have been dry and warm through all the downpours, on and off the river.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(John McPhee [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

When I was six or seven years old, growing up in Pittsburgh, I used to take a precious penny of my own and hide it for someone else to find. It was a curious compulsion; sadly, I\u2019ve never been seized by it since. For some reason I always \u201chid\u201d the penny along the same stretch of sidewalk up the street. I would cradle it at the roots of a sycamore, say, or in a hole left by a chipped-off piece of sidewalk. Then I would take a piece of chalk, and, starting at either end of the block, draw huge arrows leading up to the penny from both directions. After I learned to write I labeled the arrows: SURPRISE AHEAD or MONEY THIS WAY. I was greatly excited, during all this arrow-drawing, at the thought of the first lucky passer-by who would receive in this way, regardless of merit, a free gift from the universe. But I never lurked about. I would go straight home and not give the matter another thought, until, some months later, I would be gripped again by the impulse to hide another penny.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Annie Dillard [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

The Bait<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Saturday mornings, before
my weekly chores,
I used to sneak out of the house
and across the street,
grabbing the first grasshopper
walking in the damp California grass
along the stream.
Carefully hiding a silver hook
beneath its green wings,
I’d float it out
across the gentle ripples
towards the end of its life.
Just like that.
I’d give it the hook
and let it ride.
All I ever expected for it
was that big-mouth bass
awaiting its arrival.
I didn’t think
that I was giving up one life
to get another,
that even childhood
was full of sacrifice.
I’d just take the bright green thing,
pluck it off its only stalk,
and give it away as if
it were mine to give.
I knew someone out there
would be fooled,
that someone would accept
the precious gift.
So I just sent it along
with a plea of a prayer,
hoping it would spread its wings this time
and fly across that wet glass sky,
no concern for what inspired
its life, or mine,
only instinct guiding pain
towards the other side.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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

[Image: “He Knew What He Had to Do,” by Alan Levine. Found it on Flickr, and am sharing it here (with minimal alteration) under its Creative Commons license — thank you!] From whiskey river’s commonplace book: For the traveler todayAmong the Zen parables, one koan is called “Just Drinking Tea”. Tea represents Zen spirit: he […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":27957,"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":null,"activitypub_content_visibility":null,"activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"federated","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"Linda Pastan, John McPhee, et al.: 'The Taking In; the Giving Out'","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[183,247,1393,250,4878,251,4159],"tags":[295,747,1420,1798,1812,2348,3085,5365,6062,6063],"class_list":{"0":"post-27950","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-everyday-life","8":"category-ruminations","9":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","10":"category-art","11":"category-fiction","12":"category-poetry-writing_cat","13":"category-essays","14":"tag-annie-dillard","15":"tag-thanksgiving","16":"tag-balance","17":"tag-john-mcphee","18":"tag-linda-pastan","19":"tag-may-sarton","20":"tag-taizan-maezumi","21":"tag-alan-levine","22":"tag-eric-chock","23":"tag-giving-and-taking","24":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/02\/heknewwhathehadtodo_alanlevine_med.jpg?fit=1863%2C1361&ssl=1","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-7gO","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27950","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=27950"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27950\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":27962,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27950\/revisions\/27962"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/27957"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=27950"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=27950"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=27950"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}