"Elizabeth St Jacques, a leader in the sijo movement, offers good advice: never lose sight of the three characteristics that make sijo unique:basic structure, musical/rhythmic elements, and the twist."
You ask how many friends I have? Water and stone, bamboo and pine.
The moon rising over the eastern hill is a joyful comrade.
Besides these five companions, what other pleasure should I ask?
In the midst of the storm the tree's new leaves struggle to hold tight.
The nest of twigs is newly built. A robin begs for limbs protection.
Green fingers pointing the direction, wind roars past in false pursuit.
The feel of soil as the hand tool digs deeper is a release. The tiny shells, sand and rocks along with the humus begin to break apart and loosen. Turning the components of the soil brings a much needed breath of oxygen to the suffocating layers. Add the bag of potting soil to further enrich the mixture. Holes are made and sprinkled with water. The bedding plants are removed from the plastic containers. Each is placed gingerly into the waiting holes. Soil tamped around each infant plant and one more shower of water to finish off the planting. A few of the plants are placed in pots. Shape, texture and aroma help decide where each is placed. The end of the planting brings a feeling of being one with nature.
Carpe Diem Namasté The Spiritual Way #5 self consciousness
Oneness with everything. Goodness that is an ideal that seems almost unattainable. Then I think about the words 'self consciousness'. I have most of my life been self conscious in a condemning way. I'm: fat, uncaring, mean, quick to anger, ugly and that crooked nose. That is not the same as the first definition of conscious: aware of and responding to one's surroundings; awake.
To become aware and respond to all that stuff that is out there. Within this awareness we could then be led to self awareness (the good kind) and become one with the universe. One with all before and all that follows. One with each person that reads this. It feels so challenging until I realize one small thing, we share our humanity. We have common experiences. It hit me. The naked dream. What better place to start looking for our connections than when all is just right there. No place to hid a thing.
[ ... "The ghazal is composed of a minimum of five couplets—and typically no more than fifteen—that are structurally, thematically, and emotionally autonomous. Each line of the poem must be of the same length, though meter is not imposed in English. The first couplet introduces a scheme, made up of a rhyme followed by a refrain. Subsequent couplets pick up the same scheme in the second line only, repeating the refrain and rhyming the second line with both lines of the first stanza. The final couplet usually includes the poet’s signature, referring to the author in the first or third person, and frequently including the poet’s own name or a derivation of its meaning.
Traditionally invoking melancholy, love, longing, and metaphysical questions, ghazals are often sung by Iranian, Indian, and Pakistani musicians. ..."]
Well, I did not follow the rules. I did share a thought that the tree across the street has caused to roll around in my brain. Greening up the old grey matter!
. . . [ This month we will explore the beauty of Persian poetry and especially the poetry by the renown poets Rumi, Hafez (or Hafiz) and Saadi. Yesterday we started with two beautiful poems by Rumi, one of them the name-giver of this month "praise to the emptiness". ] . . . Chèvrefeuille