Choosing to be Simple

by Red Pine

Copper Canyon Press (2023)

Choosing to be Simple: Collected Poems of Tao Yuanming is an engaging translation of the work of this reclusive poet. Born in Jiujiang, China, Tao Yuanming (365-427 AD) was a civil servant and farmer whose poems reflect a life devoted to the Way. This bilingual edition contains over 160 verses that range in subject from passion and political intrigue to the ups and downs of farming and the joys of wine. Written in a direct and unadorned style, the poems are both wise and heartfelt without being sentimental, as in these passages:    

“I built my hut beside a path/but hear no cart or horse/you ask how can this be/where the mind goes I go too…”

“Fall days are cold and harsh/the plants have all withered/it’s that time of year when we walk on frost/and climb the heights to honor friends going home…” 

They also depict what the late Jack Gilbert referred to as “the immaculate pain of the Chinese poets” — long separations between friends, the rigors of poverty, and the recognition of what some have called an “immemorial wound.” Included here is the twenty-part poem, “Drinking Wine,” that contains some of the poet’s most memorable lines, such as this one from part IX: “meanwhile, let’s share a drink/I can’t turn this horse around now.” Red Pine (aka Bill Porter) contributes his own insights throughout the book to clarify some of the more obscure references and symbolism (chrysanthemums were often used in medicines, purple mushrooms were “one of the favorite foods of Daoist recluses and immortals”). Like his translation and commentary on the Heart Sutra, one of the essential Buddhist texts, Choosing to be Simple offers an invaluable glimpse into early Eastern culture, as well as a look into the heart/mind of one of the period’s finest poets.   

Heart of Zen

“Six Persimmons,” an 800-year old ink and brush painting said to convey the wisdom of Zen Buddhism, will be on display at the San Francisco Asian Art Museum from November 17th to December 10th. Painted by the 13th-century monk Mu Qi Fa Chang, it’s on loan from the Daitokuji Ryoko-in Temple in Kyoto, Japan, and is part of an exhibit, “The Heart of Zen,” that includes a companion piece, “Chestnuts,” on display through December 31st.” Long associated with tea ceremonies held at the temple, “Six Persimmons” has been described by scholar Arthur Waley as “passion congealed into a stupendous calm” and by others as the “Western Mona Lisa.” Gary Snyder has written a poem that references Mu Qi’s work, also titled “Six Persimmons” (Axe Handles, Counterpoint Press, 1983). Inspired by the painting, a copy of which hangs in his home, the poem ends with Snyder standing over the kitchen sink, biting into a persimmon. 

New Year’s Note

Dear Friends,

This will be my last regular post for a while as I continue to work on new projects in 2024. I hope you’ll stay tuned for announcements about upcoming publications and special events from time to time. I’ll leave off with two quotations from Julian of Norwich, English anchoress from the Middle Ages, from her Revelations of Divine Love: “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well,” she wrote in what is believed to be the oldest surviving book written in English by a woman. Her vision was one of all-embracing love and she encouraged others to “Remain in this (love) and you will know more of the same.”

Wishing you happiness and peace now and in the new year!

Cheers, J

Writing the New Year Haiku

Originally celebrated on the first day of spring per the lunar calendar, the New Year is considered a season in itself in Japan and New Year haiku often depict elements such as blossoms and songbirds. Here’s one by Buson*:

plum blossoms

whether I go north or south —

pink everywhere

This one by Issa may refer to the Buddhist idea of the “dharma ending age”:* 

New Year’s Day —

petals drifting down

in this fallen world

In another year, date unknown, his spirits were up:*

clear blue sky

this New Year’s Day —

glad to be alive

In this haiku from 1689, Basho offers a glimpse of a spring thaw:*

warmth of the sun

on a glistening field — 

New Year’s Day

This last one by Basho, written toward the end of his life, acknowledges a depth of feeling in which beginnings co-exist with endings*:

New Year’s Day

but everything feels like

autumn to me

*versions by jg

Writing Prompt

Writing a New Year’s haiku offers an opportunity to welcome a fresh outlook. This prompt joins mindfulness with images from nature. To begin, make a list of five positive feelings, thoughts, or intentions. Then list several of your recent observations from the natural world. Select one entry from each list and fashion them into a haiku. Here’s an example I wrote recently:

imagining peace,

an end to war — birdsong

from the chimney top

This isn’t the traditional way to write haiku — it’s generally more intuitive, even “accidental” — but I think it’s a good way to widen the lens of attention. You may get one or more effective haiku out of this process; if not, set them aside and try looking at them another day with a fresh eye. Sooner or later, a pearl will show up.