Sensei and Sensibility

MARIE PONSOT, A POET NEW TO ME

Recently I was gifted with a collection of Marie Ponsot's poems entitled Easy. What a gift it has proven to be! 

First, I've been introduced to a poet new to me, and I always enjoy that.   Marie Ponsot, now in her late eighties, lives in New York City and continues to teach poetry at the Unterberg Poetry Center of the 92nd Street Y and at the New School University. Perhaps most winningly, Marie Ponsot views her life in poetry as easeful.  

This morning I found the following poem, untitled:  

Time is winter-green.

Seeds keep time.

Time, so kept, carries us

across a no-time where

no time is lost.

Green, even in winter, is full of the energy and direction of growth, urgent on its journey towards the light.  Time that is "winter-green" suggests that time is like that, too.  

I've never thought of time as "winter-green" nor of "seeds keeping time," but that's the beauty of the poet's seeing.  Ponsot sees time, seeds and the emptiness, the in-between world.

I'm carrying this poem like a seed in my pocket, a seed whose possibilities aren't fully apparent, not yet.

ON BEAUTY'S VISITATION

Dust of Snow

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part 
Of a day I had rued. 

This poem by Robert Frost evoked a beautiful image and offered up a question I propose to carry for a week.  The question?  Where/when/what is the observed "something" (in every day) that kindles a change of mood, sparks a new insight and/or ignites a feeling of joy and gratitude?  

For Robert Frost, beauty's visitation came in the form of a crow shaking down the dust of snow. After that, beauty's visitation did what beauty does, for those who are alive to it.  Robert Frost wrote this poem, and others, which awaken the Beautiful.  

For me, the poem is an invitation, an invitation I accept, to be on the look for each day's "gift-bearing surprise," with profound gratitude to RF.

FLOWER PRACTICE

       "The world is ruled by letting things take their course."  Lao-Tzu

Yesterday, when Ariel and I met for an afternoon of flower practice, we used the above quote to guide our practice.  In the way of all things vital and growing, our process is something we keep inventing. Yesterday's quotation-guided practice was a first for us.

After completing our arrangements in silence, Ariel and I had lots to say about the resulting arrangements. Ariel's (on the left) had begun with the curve of a branch of lemon leaves at the top of the larger of the two black containers she used.  Mine was guided by color. In each, we "let things take their course."

There is a beauty and grace to Ariel's flowers that takes my breath away. Opting to create with little, she chose to limit the materials she used.  Even so, when we talked about her arrangement, we discussed possibilities for taking away more.  (She did not!) 

My flowers carry a message of joy in the midst of winter.  They speak to transitions, to "things taking their course."  

82-DEGREE DAYS IN FLORIDA: THE TAKE-AWAY

A week ago today I arrived home from a wonderful interlude of 82-degree days in Florida in the company of friends.  I've been thinking about what it was about those days that made them so memorable, so pleasant and prized.  I was looking for something I hadn't thought about before. 

From the moment I stepped out of the terminal in West Palm Beach, I felt the warmth and began peeling off layers of clothing.  That was for starters.  It felt good...even great!  Being in the company of friends generates the warmth that comforts the soul.  I had that in generous measure as well and I loved it.

This morning while doing intervals on the elliptical machine, it occurred to me that a few days in Florida, in the midst of winter, is like a rest interval (for recovery) in interval training.  Interval training is a means of supercharging one's fitness activity, moving it from merely aerobic to something more.  

In interval training, activity of high intensity for a period of time is followed by low intensity activity. The rest interval makes it possible to resume activity at high intensity.  

This line of thinking has delivered an epiphany, that thing I hadn't thought before:  If I'm to maximize the R&R of Florida, I may want to pick up the pace here! 
 

IN ANTICIPATION OF VALENTINE'S DAY

The language of my floral arrangement "in anticipation of Valentine's Day" is "spoken by" Star Gazer lilies and carnations.  Carnations are often a taken-for-granted flower.  However, I think they are co-equals here. 

I like the way in which these two different types of flowers complement one another--in terms of color, texture, volume and line. In juxtaposition, the straight lines of the lilies become even more apparent, as do the ruffled lines of the carnations.  

There's no heart anywhere, but there is plenty of red, which, of all the colors, is perhaps the most passionate and intense. When red is present, something is happening.

  

"STAR GAZER" OF A DIFFERENT SORT

The focal point in my current arrangement is the Star Gazer lily. (To my notion, the name is earned and apt.)  Its form, size and fragrance provide instant accent.  

 

WHALE SKELETON AS MOBILE MATRIX IS "WONDER FULL"

Found objects are often an outlet for creative expression.  Seldom, however, have any of us happened on something so awesome and grand as the centerpiece of a retrospective of work by Gabriel Orozco currently on view at the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA).  

Embellished and transformed, the whale skeleton, excavated from the sands of Baja California, has been fitted on a metal armature and inscribed with graphite rings and circles. (According to an article in the New York Times, 6,000 mechanical pencil leads were used up in the process!)  It has become Mobile Matrix, a work of art at once commanding, delightful and "wonder full."

 

NEW TASTE TREATS

Yesterday I clipped a recipe, Farro Salad with Roasted Rutabaga, Ricotta Salata and Hazelnuts, from the Dining section of the New York Times.  "I have to try this," I said to myself.  

Rutabagas aren't new to me. I've been cooking them for a long time.  However, I had never tasted farro. That was to change sooner than I had anticipated.

At dinner last night, I opted for an entree of emmer and quinoa, crispy pig's jowl and shoulder. It was a satisfying taste treat.

When I arrived home, I googled "emmer" only to discover it is another name for farro (especially in Italy)! The coincidence was striking, a matter of attraction, perhaps. 

I enjoy pushing the boundaries of areas of passion.  Food is just one, and an important one at that.

Note:  Emmer wheat is a low yielding wheat.  It was one of the first crops domesticated in the Near East and was widely cultivated in the ancient world.  

FLOWERS FOR THE NEW YEAR

 I knew I wanted red and white flowers for the arrangement for the new year--and I knew it was necessary to find them at the corner flower stall.

At first, I couldn't see any possibilities, possibilities I liked--or matched my expectations, anyway.   Then I saw the alstroemeria.  They were fresh,  mostly red-like and there were some white flowers in one of the bunches. These would work for starters.  Some chrysanthemums reinforced the color red and offered another texture.

It was not until yesterday, nearly a week later, that I realized the appeal of the arrangement I had made. The massing of colors juxtapositioned with one another was what I found beautiful and satisfying--and that was enough.

MY OWN AUTUMN (FINAL PICTURE OF 2009 SERIES)

 Autumn was ending and winter beginning when I took this picture of snow and slush.  Endings/beginnings have always fascinated me and this one was obvious.

I had intended to be in California for celebration of the coming of the Winter Solstice with my family. However, the storm changed all that.  Instead of leaving on Sunday (flight canceled) for a party on Monday,  I left early Wednesday morning.  Did the changes jiggle my synapses a bit?  Did they help me reflect on some assumptions I've acquired? Indeed, they did.

After some initial disappointment, I embraced my circumstance and opted to begin my "vacation" here. An extraordinary  day at the American Museum of Natural History was one of the highlights.  Two lovely dinners with friends was another, one of these the night of the solstice.

For the Winter Solstice, my family cover the table with candles. In celebration of the return of the sun and the gradual lengthening of daylight, they create a mini bonfire.  The practice began years ago when my sister made candles with the children.  Having made them, they wanted to use them.  This observance was the result. 

Family and  the celebration of rebirth were on my mind as I assembled these curvy candles for a dinner ordered in at a friend's house. The candles seemed apropos for scrambled plans that turned out beautifully.

Another of the take-aways of this experience:   I discovered I like having my suitcase packed and ready well in advance of leave taking.