philocalist

philocalist: a person who loves beauty; one who sees and appreciates beauty in all things.

What is beauty? Like love, beauty is some kind of nameable uncontainable, some kind of innate and immediate and intrinsic nature of our humanness. And like love, beauty eludes definition the way sunlight escapes boxes and the shadows. We cannot live without the light. We cannot live without love and we cannot live without beauty.

Beauty might be a rose, or a stranger who comes to our rescue. It could be that smooth shiny surface of wooden floor boards worn step after step after step after step—a million times over. Or sparkles dancing on water. Dew in the morning light. A friendly smile. Honey. And sweetness.

In one way or the other, beauty is everything that is good. Like a natural point of rest, beauty is the default setting for our most essential selves. The Navajo word for it is Hózhó. Harmony balance reciprocity peace.

So in your moments of darkness, of hurt or of despair, look into the mirror and remember that not only are you beautiful—but that you are beauty itself… beauty reflecting beauty. Say not “I am beautiful”, but declare “I Am Beauty”. And everything else in this tumultuous life shall fall into place—step after step after step after step—you shall Walk in Beauty. Hózhó.

philocalist: a person who knows themself as beauty; one who walks in beauty.

into the light

t um blin g 
at the edge of the world 
i fall 
down 
tumbling with the awkward
grace 
of a dancer 
unhinged 
unfettered 
unbridled  
and entirely 
undone 
free 
free now 
and cascading freely
down and
over the edge and at last 
tumbling 
tumbling down 
t um blin g  
down 
and 
and into 
the  l  i   g    h      t
 

the poet’s day off

today i take refuge in the mundane
the ordinary and prosaic 
laundry beckons like an old friend
or, a cup of hot black coffee on my desk

for lunch, i eat goat cheese with sliced cucumber sprinkled with lots of black pepper and a dash of cayenne a drizzle of honey dried parsley flakes and chopped walnuts... between two slices of whole wheat bread, with a glass of tap water
really
you should try it

today, every single one of my electronic gadgets work without mishap while
crystals and sage bundles 
gather the dust
the vacuum cleaner is no dance partner today, nor
hungry ghost
and the gods are silent 
and clocks steer clear of double digit numbers

flowers are just pretty flowers, and 
rocks are, well.... rocks

i welcome the air, slightly matte and thick
like a fleece blanket somehow comforting in its stillness

today i take a shower, trim my nails—no polish—rub cream into my face and go to bed before the stroke of midnight, and do not dream
for just today
i am twinkled out, and grounded.

tomorrow, i shall fly
again

field of dreams

Life is a field
of dreams
growing with the wind
and weather patterns 
of thoughts
feelings 
and voices
Voices from the soil
of memory
past loves and sorrows
past joys and triumphs
and remorse 
They take root
and grow
into our field of dreams
And whether asleep or awake
we all walk our field of dreams
on pathways of hope 
or of despair
to horizons unknown
But surely
on a pathway of love
love itself is the horizon 
and the infinitely wild beautiful blue sky above
 

仲間 (nakama*)

between worlds i fly
with stars sun and moon dancing
my heart wide open

One of the precious things about friends is that they do little things for you which they know will mean a lot. The above photo is a painting of an ancient Japanese dancer holding a branch of tsubaki (camellia) flowers. To me, the painting expresses a unity of nature and dancer, freedom of movement within tradition and continuity, as well as love and sheer joy. Grace and surrender. Ecstasy. It is everything I’d wish to express myself, in my own dancing body. 

Knowing that I would love this painting, my friend who happened upon it by chance, took a photo and sent it to me. And for this alone, I will treasure our friendship forever. There are these threads which we do not see, and yet they are there nonetheless—somewhere and somehow, weaving together our gestures and our footsteps into criss-cross patterns in the unfathomable sky. 

We are dancing this mysterious journey, together, across seas of tumultuous unknowns… across space with no dimension and time with no border. Dancing, without destination nor particular goal. We dance, for love. For joy. We dance to dance the dance. 
It is a prayer in the dark; and sacred offering in the light. 
I will be there dancing, always. 
To dance for you. To dance with you. 
To dance the dance.
To dance.
Dancing.

*仲間 nakama means friends or partners in the same group, often those you have a long-term relationship with and shared experiences. This mini-essay was written for my traditional Japanese dance nakama, to whom I am infinitely grateful.

Gold

this love is gold light
in wild flowers and bold skies
beauty everywhere

(haiku 5-7-5)

The Holy Grail

Certain things are a matter of belief. 
Do you believe, for example, that the holy grail is real and that its location has or has not yet been discovered, or do you believe it is a striking creation of medieval European literature? If it is not actually real, why do so many claim to have found it? Why does something of such ambiguity hold such sway, spanning centuries and continents? 

Belief in certain things is a matter of contention. Is there life after death? God? Reincarnation? Telekinesis? Whereas belief in other things is rarely of dispute. Rain falls to the ground from clouds. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Kyoto city was the capital of Japan for over 1,000 years. 

So why is the existence of a god or gods or goddesses or holy people or deities or kami for that matter, at times hotly contested whereas the sun’s emergence in the east generally is not?

We might start by pointing to the tangible-to-the five-senses and thusly physically experiential nature of the sunrise in what we know to be “east”. However it is also true is it not, that many people, when asked where east is, will not be able to answer correctly on the spot without external reference to a map or mechanical compass of some sort. Physical experience alone is insufficient. To understand where east is, we must have somehow learned something about the relationship between the sun and earth, about planetary orbits, the solar system and space. But from the point of view of Pluto, or of a star in Andromeda, how fixed or relevant ultimately is Earth’s east, anyway? Is east to the left or to the right? Your left or my right? 

As for intangible-to-the-five-senses things such as kami, we might point to the ubiquity and continuity of shrines in Japan as evidence of their actual existence. “Believers” may claim to have experienced physically tangible results after praying to kami, such as healed illnesses or passed university entrance examinations. Visions of non-physical beings or other experiences beyond the tangible-to-the-five-senses might also be cited by some as proof that kami are real. Such “intangibles” however, are often disputed as imagination and thusly unacceptable and unverifiable evidence. But what are “visions” after all, if not something seen somehow?    

I am not here to profess what is true or not true. But I am here to question our assumptions about what we believe to be true or not true. And I am here to suggest that the holy grail itself is not necessarily its purported historical and physical reality, and that it is not necessarily a thing of literary legend—but that perhaps the real holy grail is realizing that what we believe to be true is “true”. Truth is a consequence of belief; not necessarily the other way around. What you believe creates what you experience; not necessarily the other way around.
Perhaps, in other words, the real holy grail is that we are all—each and every one of us—kami

landing

~a short meditation on flight, four~

Flight, for all its exhilaration and glory, always comes home. Every bird lands, eventually. And it is this very moment of landing—a touchdown full of sweetness, which gives flight its freedom. For without landing, the sky would be abyss. Without landing, flight would be exile. It is the inevitability of landing which gives wings to dreams… to our wildest, our sweetest, and our most beautiful dreams.

flight 
is an embrace of sky
wings spread wide
caressing wind as it streams by

flight
is a love of the sky song
whispered in tendrils 
of crimson clouds and golden light

and flight
is the heart’s journey home
weaving dawn and dusk 
into luster love and soft landing 
 

freedom

~a short meditation on flight, three~

When you see birds flying in the sky, does your heart not also soar? 

love is

love is deeper
than the deepest ocean
which, in the end
has a bottom
a finite place of rest

and love is brighter even
than the brightest and most brilliant star
which, although still visible
billions and billions of light years away
will twinkle out 
some day

love is more beautiful
than even the most beautiful red rose
which, held too tightly
pierces the heart
thorns sharp and steep 
searing

love    is    love
which, has no end
no void
and no restraint
love is 
infinite
boundless
and like birds flying into the wild blue sky
free
 

we are all angels

~a short meditation on flight, two~

Who does not dream about flying? 
Although our actual physical bodies are essentially tethered to this earth, it seems that flight is somehow intrinsic to our souls. Somehow, I really do know what it is to fly, in this human body… I can feel it in my bones, and on the surface of my skin caressed by wind—my entire being buoyed by its light power. Soaring. 

Do you? Too, like me, know flight?
Does your heart lift, with the first rays of sunrise—taking you out beyond the horizons? When the birds circle overhead, can you meet them up there in the blue sky—seeing eye to eye, and the dancing tree tops below? As the soft pads of your bare feet sink into earth, gently with each step on the path, are you not also drawn upwards and a little closer to those not so distant cloud bottoms? And at night when the stars twinkle so invitingly, do you dance there too among all the glitter? Gloriously?

Maybe we are all angels, after all? 
We’re just walking this earth awhile—for the grand adventure of it all… for dreaming dreams, for the thrill and for the mania, for sleeping and awakening, for creating something beautiful or fantastic and then reveling in it too… But above all, maybe we are here for love—simply, to love and to be loved. Love.