Heart Happy (cathy_edgett) wrote,
Heart Happy
cathy_edgett

Morning

The day is exquisite, still and silent with berries on the Pyracantha, still orange, and not yet red enough to attract the birds who come to get a little buzz.  I am with possibility today.  What opens and wakes?

Rilke said: "The only journey is the one within."

I sit with that, thinking about perception, and how we open and close like an anemone, responding to the tides.

I open Basho's Narrow Road to the Interior and consider these words, written by a man Basho met on his journey, a man who wrote haiku.  When it was time to part, the man wrote,"I write on a fan, and tear it apart, lingering."

Lingering.

And I am with this line of Billy Collins from his poem "Paris".   I start in the middle of the poem:

 "what bridges I would lean on / to watch the broad river undulating / like a long-playing record under the needle of my eye".

I love that image but wonder what a young person would make of it.  Do they know about records and placing the needle just right?
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