{"id":547,"date":"2009-04-17T11:10:59","date_gmt":"2009-04-17T11:10:59","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.beliefnet.com\/onecity\/2009\/04\/dharma-in-poetry.html"},"modified":"2009-04-17T11:10:59","modified_gmt":"2009-04-17T11:10:59","slug":"dharma-in-poetry","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/onecity\/2009\/04\/dharma-in-poetry.html","title":{"rendered":"Dharma in Poetry"},"content":{"rendered":"

The dharma is elusive. It speaks to us so plainly, then turns, shifts in its seat, and to me, seems complex again. In principle, the essential ideas are straightforward: keep it real, let things be what they are, be kind. But often, when you turn and actually look, practicing these principles is more difficult than it first seemed. And talking about them can prove even harder.
\nFor me, writing, or right speech, is the thing. And so I am always seeking examples of fine dharmic writing, that is, writing that not only speaks of dharma, but literally embodies the teachings. I could begin to categorize what I mean by embodying the teachings\u2014a certain spontaneity, a directness, a sense of humor and endlessly unfolding insight\u2014but that would miss the point. Which is that when it comes to dharmic writing, I am always looking beneath the text to the performance<\/em> of the author. Hence, since my immersion in dharmic waters six or so year ago, poetry had become more and more important to me.
\nAs a part of the Dharma in the Wider World of Culture<\/em> series (we’ve looked at Wallace Stevens, Twin Peaks<\/em>, and Lydia Davis so far), I’d like this morning to offer a poem by John Ashberry. You can read and listen to it here at Poets.org (I’ve also copied it below):
\nJohn Ashberry’s My Philosophy of Life<\/em><\/a>
\n
\nMy Philosophy of Life<\/em>
\nby John Ashberry
\nJust when I thought there wasn’t room enough
\nfor another thought in my head, I had this great idea–
\ncall it a philosophy of life, if you will. Briefly,
\nit involved living the way philosophers live,
\naccording to a set of principles. OK, but which ones?
\nThat was the hardest part, I admit, but I had a
\nkind of dark foreknowledge of what it would be like.
\nEverything, from eating watermelon or going to the bathroom
\nor just standing on a subway platform, lost in thought
\nfor a few minutes, or worrying about rain forests,
\nwould be affected, or more precisely, inflected
\nby my new attitude. I wouldn’t be preachy,
\nor worry about children and old people, except
\nin the general way prescribed by our clockwork universe.
\nInstead I’d sort of let things be what they are
\nwhile injecting them with the serum of the new moral climate
\nI thought I’d stumbled into, as a stranger
\naccidentally presses against a panel and a bookcase slides back,
\nrevealing a winding staircase with greenish light
\nsomewhere down below, and he automatically steps inside
\nand the bookcase slides shut, as is customary on such occasions.
\nAt once a fragrance overwhelms him–not saffron, not lavender,
\nbut something in between. He thinks of cushions, like the one
\nhis uncle’s Boston bull terrier used to lie on watching him
\nquizzically, pointed ear-tips folded over. And then the great rush
\nis on. Not a single idea emerges from it. It’s enough
\nto disgust you with thought. But then you remember something
\nWilliam James
\nwrote in some book of his you never read–it was fine, it had the
\nfineness,
\nthe powder of life dusted over it, by chance, of course, yet
\nstill looking
\nfor evidence of fingerprints. Someone had handled it
\neven before he formulated it, though the thought was his and
\nhis alone.
\nIt’s fine, in summer, to visit the seashore.
\nThere are lots of little trips to be made.
\nA grove of fledgling aspens welcomes the traveler. Nearby
\nare the public toilets where weary pilgrims have carved
\ntheir names and addresses, and perhaps messages as well,
\nmessages to the world, as they sat
\nand thought about what they’d do after using the toilet
\nand washing their hands at the sink, prior to stepping out
\ninto the open again. Had they been coaxed in by principles,
\nand were their words philosophy, of however crude a sort?
\nI confess I can move no farther along this train of thought–
\nsomething’s blocking it. Something I’m
\nnot big enough to see over. Or maybe I’m frankly scared.
\nWhat was the matter with how I acted before?
\nBut maybe I can come up with a compromise–I’ll let
\nthings be what they are, sort of. In the autumn I’ll put up jellies
\nand preserves, against the winter cold and futility,
\nand that will be a human thing, and intelligent as well.
\nI won’t be embarrassed by my friends’ dumb remarks,
\nor even my own, though admittedly that’s the hardest part,
\nas when you are in a crowded theater and something you say
\nriles the spectator in front of you, who doesn’t even like the idea
\nof two people near him talking together. Well he’s
\ngot to be flushed out so the hunters can have a crack at him–
\nthis thing works both ways, you know. You can’t always
\nbe worrying about others and keeping track of yourself
\nat the same time. That would be abusive, and about as much fun
\nas attending the wedding of two people you don’t know.
\nStill, there’s a lot of fun to be had in the gaps between ideas.
\nThat’s what they’re made for! Now I want you to go out there
\nand enjoy yourself, and yes, enjoy your philosophy of life, too.
\nThey don’t come along every day. Look out! There’s a big one…
\n…
\nI love this poem. I appreciate its directness, its at once playful and serious musing, and its humor. I like how Ashberry says he wants to “sort of let things be what they are.” It’s the “sort of” that kills me. I like the simple declaration of trying to let things be what they are while “injecting them with the serum of the new moral climate.” To live like a philosopher, according to certain principles: without a doubt, this has always been my dream, my consuming, recurring thought as I walk down the street (trying, perhaps, to do a walking meditation), the reason I so appreciate the rigors of retreat, and the seed and motivation of all my dharmic work. And I like how Ashberry gets at it here, taking us from the boldness of the opening stanza to the parsing of the idea in the second to the seashore in the end.
\nThat’s all I’ve got today. It’s too sunny out to write any more.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The dharma is elusive. It speaks to us so plainly, then turns, shifts in its seat, and to me, seems complex again. In principle, the essential ideas are straightforward: keep it real, let things be what they are, be kind. 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He writes book reviews for The Brooklyn Rail. His poetry and fiction can be found on his website: http:\/\/thepennies.blogspot.com. He believes enlightenment is real.","url":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/onecity\/author\/pgriffin"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/onecity\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/547","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/onecity\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/onecity\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/onecity\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/187"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/onecity\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=547"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/onecity\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/547\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/onecity\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=547"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/onecity\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=547"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/onecity\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=547"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}