James Broughton - poet, filmmaker, and practitioner of "Big Joy" is buried in Port Townsend, Washington. His epitaph reads: "Adventure – not predicament." He said in an interview, "Suffering can't be avoided. I think the way to happiness is to go into the darkness of yourself. That's the place the seed is nourished, takes its roots and grows up, and becomes ultimately the plant and the flower. You can only go upward by first going downward. I've never been afraid of losing my beautiful neurosis as a source of my poetry.” (Laughter)
And laughter was big with James Broughton – philosophical insights tinged with laughter as in this great poem of his:
This is It
This is It
and I am It
and You are It
and so is That
and He is It
and She is It
and It is It
and That is That
And in this quintessentially Buddhist poem that reminds me of Thailand and the saying that I heard there: “slow down and get there quicker”.
Ways of Getting There
What makes you think
you know your way around?
You add the mileage
but subtract the scenery.
When a white rabbit
runs out of the wood
and startles a stag
you step on the gas
roar past the hunter
run over the chipmunk.
You say you have to
get to the station
ahead of time.
Time doesn't care if
you are ahead of him.
Or way behind.
He's on the go
no matter what.
Why not for once
wander off a path
without caring how
long it takes?
You might bump into
Time's older brother
the one who never needs
to go anywhere.
And laughter was big with James Broughton – philosophical insights tinged with laughter as in this great poem of his:
This is It
This is It
and I am It
and You are It
and so is That
and He is It
and She is It
and It is It
and That is That
And in this quintessentially Buddhist poem that reminds me of Thailand and the saying that I heard there: “slow down and get there quicker”.
Ways of Getting There
What makes you think
you know your way around?
You add the mileage
but subtract the scenery.
When a white rabbit
runs out of the wood
and startles a stag
you step on the gas
roar past the hunter
run over the chipmunk.
You say you have to
get to the station
ahead of time.
Time doesn't care if
you are ahead of him.
Or way behind.
He's on the go
no matter what.
Why not for once
wander off a path
without caring how
long it takes?
You might bump into
Time's older brother
the one who never needs
to go anywhere.
2 comments:
Ways of Getting There made me think of how you like driving the back roads instead of the interstates. Or how John as a child rode along with his Mom and her friends as they explored the back roads, drank, and always ate their picnic at an abandoned school house. John and I still have time to take our time when we are at Metigoshe. Time doesn't matter to us there.
Kate,
You should be getting up to Metigoshe more and more now as the weather turns.
Looking back, in some ways it seems like all the years up to now were covered on a highspeed expressway, despite those occassional back road jaunts. Now's the time for more scenery, as Brougton puts it, and less milage! Fewer destinations and more lingering.
Post a Comment