here's a shell to hear their heartbeats
I happened across a very funny cartoon which does a lot to illustrate how Congress works . . . or perhaps doesn't. ;-)
xOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOx
America is a land of many people, and our names for towns, landmarks, and even states reflects that. It amused my shakuhachi sensei to no end that, on his last concert tour, as he traveled from Rochester to NYC he passed through Liverpool, Rome, Amsterdam, Troy, and Geneva.
Those names certainly have a clear lineage-- it's easy to guess where they came from. And then there are any number of names of places that are simply taken from the landscape: Little Creek, Bear Mountain, Whitecliff, the list goes on endlessly. Sometimes town names have exactly the same origin, but are in the language of those who came from far away and settled in the area.
But even besides these, there are many names that come from Native American languages. And it is a deeply sad fact that most people have no idea of the origin of these names. Off the top of my head I can list a dozen or more: Massachusetts, Alabama, Lackawana, Nanuet, Susquehanna, Chesapeake, Pascack, Hackensack, Mississippi, Minnesota, Dakota, Hohokus . . . and yet in most cases I haven't the foggiest clue what any of these names mean, what their significance is, or even what language or people gave them that name.
This comes to mind because I just read in a news article that the name Topeka means "a good place to grow potatoes" in the language of the Kansa and the Ioway peoples. And now I know where the names Kansas and Iowa are from.
xOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOx
I was transcribing old writing from one of my notebooks the other day, most of it Emrys-stuff that I wrote while travelling in China. And I was commenting to him, "hm, you know, your story is rather melodramatic, as are you." And he said, "you wrote me when you were in high school to explore great themes of sin and forgiveness, memory and regret, guilt and responsibility, love and loss. How could you possibly expect anything else?"
xOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOx
It doesn't really snow in Kyoto very often lately-- we're too far south, and then there's that global warming thing. Instead, it rains. The last two weekends, in fact, have been absolutely miserable in terms of weather.
Bizarrely, I don't really mind. When the weather is nice, I feel obliged to go out and take advantage of it. When the weather is bad, I can stay inside and do whatever I like-- attend to internet business, read, play video games-- without guilt.
Of course, I'm not always lucky enough to be safe and dry at home when it's raining. Sometimes I'm out and about-- and sometimes I randomly decide to document the experience on my cell phone camera.
Kyoto in the rain
Autumn rain.
Illumination.
Behind the leaves . . .
Crossing the river.
Ghost lanterns.
Gate between worlds.
Your one-stop shop for beer, cigarettes, and porn.
Salarymen.
Pedestrian hazards.
A beacon in the dark.
Purity.
Compassion.
Patience of the stone.
Gilded lily.
Alpha and Omega.
After hours.
What are you looking for?
Restaurant sign.
Island in a dark sea.
Curtain.
Buddhist evangelism . . .
. . . also has a sense of humor.
Flightless bird.
Closing time.
Final boarding.
Perfume.
xOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOx
I spoke to my sister on the phone last night. She's approaching her due date in terms of delivery-- a month to go. She says that her way of dealing with being pregnant and "big as a whale" is humor, else it would surely drive her nuts. She's still working, though-- money being a rather huge necessity for a small family just starting out.
"Just watch me," she said, "I'm gonna have this baby at my desk. Probably ruin my chair."
"Well, you could put plastic on it, or something to protect it," I offered.
"Are you kidding me? I want to ruin that chair, I hate it. Then they'll have to buy me a new one."
xOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOx
I helped my students scrub the steps this afternoon, simply because. They were surprised to say the least, and I found myself reminded of a certain Zen saying:
"Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water."
xOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOx
Exhausted. Still awake. My cat dreams on my lap. In my mind, slim fingers stroking the keys to make the piano whisper and keen. The room is silent save for the murmur of the space heater. I look at the clock-- 1:26 AM.
You must be depressed.
Years pass, and I am still a stranger to myself.
xOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOx
America is a land of many people, and our names for towns, landmarks, and even states reflects that. It amused my shakuhachi sensei to no end that, on his last concert tour, as he traveled from Rochester to NYC he passed through Liverpool, Rome, Amsterdam, Troy, and Geneva.
Those names certainly have a clear lineage-- it's easy to guess where they came from. And then there are any number of names of places that are simply taken from the landscape: Little Creek, Bear Mountain, Whitecliff, the list goes on endlessly. Sometimes town names have exactly the same origin, but are in the language of those who came from far away and settled in the area.
But even besides these, there are many names that come from Native American languages. And it is a deeply sad fact that most people have no idea of the origin of these names. Off the top of my head I can list a dozen or more: Massachusetts, Alabama, Lackawana, Nanuet, Susquehanna, Chesapeake, Pascack, Hackensack, Mississippi, Minnesota, Dakota, Hohokus . . . and yet in most cases I haven't the foggiest clue what any of these names mean, what their significance is, or even what language or people gave them that name.
This comes to mind because I just read in a news article that the name Topeka means "a good place to grow potatoes" in the language of the Kansa and the Ioway peoples. And now I know where the names Kansas and Iowa are from.
xOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOx
I was transcribing old writing from one of my notebooks the other day, most of it Emrys-stuff that I wrote while travelling in China. And I was commenting to him, "hm, you know, your story is rather melodramatic, as are you." And he said, "you wrote me when you were in high school to explore great themes of sin and forgiveness, memory and regret, guilt and responsibility, love and loss. How could you possibly expect anything else?"
xOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOx
It doesn't really snow in Kyoto very often lately-- we're too far south, and then there's that global warming thing. Instead, it rains. The last two weekends, in fact, have been absolutely miserable in terms of weather.
Bizarrely, I don't really mind. When the weather is nice, I feel obliged to go out and take advantage of it. When the weather is bad, I can stay inside and do whatever I like-- attend to internet business, read, play video games-- without guilt.
Of course, I'm not always lucky enough to be safe and dry at home when it's raining. Sometimes I'm out and about-- and sometimes I randomly decide to document the experience on my cell phone camera.
Kyoto in the rain
Autumn rain.
Illumination.
Behind the leaves . . .
Crossing the river.
Ghost lanterns.
Gate between worlds.
Your one-stop shop for beer, cigarettes, and porn.
Salarymen.
Pedestrian hazards.
A beacon in the dark.
Purity.
Compassion.
Patience of the stone.
Gilded lily.
Alpha and Omega.
After hours.
What are you looking for?
Restaurant sign.
Island in a dark sea.
Curtain.
Buddhist evangelism . . .
. . . also has a sense of humor.
Flightless bird.
Closing time.
Final boarding.
Perfume.
xOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOx
I spoke to my sister on the phone last night. She's approaching her due date in terms of delivery-- a month to go. She says that her way of dealing with being pregnant and "big as a whale" is humor, else it would surely drive her nuts. She's still working, though-- money being a rather huge necessity for a small family just starting out.
"Just watch me," she said, "I'm gonna have this baby at my desk. Probably ruin my chair."
"Well, you could put plastic on it, or something to protect it," I offered.
"Are you kidding me? I want to ruin that chair, I hate it. Then they'll have to buy me a new one."
xOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOx
I helped my students scrub the steps this afternoon, simply because. They were surprised to say the least, and I found myself reminded of a certain Zen saying:
"Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water."
xOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOxxOx
Exhausted. Still awake. My cat dreams on my lap. In my mind, slim fingers stroking the keys to make the piano whisper and keen. The room is silent save for the murmur of the space heater. I look at the clock-- 1:26 AM.
You must be depressed.
Years pass, and I am still a stranger to myself.