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          “During this investigation, I became familiar with certain limits of the rational gaze: It tends to fragment reality and to exclude complementarity and the association of contraries from its field of vision. I also discovered one of its more pernicious effects: The rational approach tends to minimize what it does not understand.
          Anthropology is an ideal training ground for learning this. The first anthropologists went out beyond the limits of the rational world and saw primitives and inferior societies. When they met shamans, they thought they were mentally ill.
          The rational approach starts from the idea that everything is explainable and that mystery is in some sense the enemy. This means that it prefers pejorative, and even wrong, answers to admitting its own lack of understanding.
          The molecular biology that considers that 97 percent of the DNA in our body is ‘junk’ reveals not only its own degree of ignorance, but the extent to which it is prepared to belittle the unknown. Some recent hypotheses suggest that ‘junk DNA’ might have certain functions after all. But this does not hide the pejorative reflex: We don’t understand, so we shoot first, then ask questions. This is cowboy science, and it is not as objective as it claims. Neutrality, or simple honesty, would have consisted in saying ‘for the moment, we don’t we do not know.’ It would have been just as easy to call it mystery DNA, for instance.
          The problem is not having presuppositions, but failing to make them explicit. If biology said about the intentionality that nature seems to manifest at all levels, ‘ we see it sometimes, but cannot discuss it without ceasing to do science according to our own criteria,’ things would at least be clear. But biology tends to project its presuppositions onto the reality it observes, claiming that nature itself is devoid of intention” (139-140).

Narby, Jeremy. The Cosmic Serpent: DNA and the Origins of Knowledge. New York: Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam, 1998.

I just finished reading The Way of Zen by Alan Watts. As the liner notes suggest, this might very well be the best English-language book on the subject - the most accessible combination of history and philosophy necessary for any attempt to understand Zen Buddhism. As much as a book is capable, of course! As Watts himself points out, Zen is first and foremost a deeply experiential phenomena that simply cannot be discussed or explained adequately using typical scholarly, scientific, or literary approaches.

Those who know do not speak;
Those who speak do not know.

…So how do you write about something that simply cannot be explained using words? Immersing himself in both Eastern and Western philosophies, Watts deliberately takes on the mantle of not fully belonging to either. By occupying this no-man’s-land, this liminal space, he has perhaps made of himself the perfect spokesman for such a difficult and sticky subject. (Or, perhaps he has no idea what he is talking about!)

Especially interesting to me is the final chapter, Zen in the Arts, which deals with haiku poetry, among other things:

In poetry the empty space is the surrounding silence… a silence of the mind in which one does not “think about” the poem but actually feels the sensation which it evokes - all the more strongly for having said do little.

By the seventeenth century the Japanese had brought this “wordless” poetry to perfection in haiku,  the poem of just seventeen syllables which drops the subject almost as it takes it up… a good haiku is a pebble thrown into the pool of the listener’s mind, evoking associations out of the richness of his oen memory. It invites the listener to participate…

The development of haiku was largely tyhe work of Basho  (1643-1694), whose feeling for Zen wanted to express itself in a type of poetry altogether in the spirit of wu-shih - “nothing special.” “To write haiku,” he said, get a three-foot child” - for Basho’s poems have the same inspired objectivity as a child’s expression of wonder, and return us to that same feeling of the world as when it first met our astonished eyes…

Basho wrote his haiku in the simplest type of Japanese speech, naturally avoiding literary and “highbrow” language, so creating a style which made it possible for ordinary people to be poets (183-184).

Watts, Alan. The Way of Zen. New York: Vintage Books, 1957.

Written 50 years ago (!), the book is obviously dated; in fact it reads much like the writing of some of Watts’ younger contemporaries, the Beats. But he is a gifted writer, able to put complex philosophical concepts into simple, everyday language. In The Way, Watts seamlessly blends ancient Indian and Chinese historical contexts with valid and interesting anecdotes and analogies.

A brief but favorable review of this book… and some further Alan Watts readings, essays, recordings, and so on…

Bulamsan (Bulam Mountain) Urban Nature Park, Nowon-gu, Seoul

First tentative hike Sunday, July 27. Bright red wet earth, rocky trails (riprap?) and huge granite boulders. Fairly difficult trails, and I didn’t even get to any of the higher peaks or to the temples shown on the map at the base. A trickle of water, and in some places a quietly roaring stream, between the rocks; drinking ladles welcome in the heat and humidity. Deciduous forest: green shade. Dragonflies and clouds above the city, above the panoramic view of Seoul stretching out into the distance.

. . .

Second hike, August 10, 2008. Hot day; jungle-sounds of cicadas; ancient crumbling round boulders overlooking the city. People on the steep hillsides with baskets gathering… what? The acorns strewn about everywhere? Old women collecting the cool spring water in plastic jugs to take home. Some gradual trails, some steep scrambles and rock faces. Further explorations of the spiderweb network of pathways all over the hillsides. Brought the camera this time. Little icebox tent-stands selling drinks and ice cream in unexpected clearings; excercise equipment in others. Men in hiking gear sitting on benches around a mountaintop heli-pad listening to the Olympics on someone’s handphone TV, and a mass cheer when the Korean swimmer wins the gold! Finally, I briefly visited Cheonbosa, a Buddhist temple, for lunch.

Some Bulamsan pictures…

I don’t like Facebook. I don’t like the idea of it. I don’t like how each and every new gadgetry advance represents a complete lifestyle change for a great many people, in which they simply can’t imagine living life without the latest such-and-such. Technology addiction: unavoidable, of course, but…?

Anyway, personally, I’ve thoroughly and deliberately avoided things like Facebook thus far. However, everything comes to an end - even trivial neo-Luddite crusades! And with so little quality computer time at my disposal these days, and in light of my steadily falling behind in attempts to post photographs, links, etc. on this site, I’ve decided to try an experiment. Rather than seeing the pictures right here, instead you can view them by accessing the links below, which will take you to my shiny new Facebook photo albums. Less than ideal, but until I buy a laptop…! Please let me know if this is adequate, or annoying, or…?

Turtle Mountain: photos from Vernon, British Columbia, taken just before I left Canada.

Joongkye-dong: the neighborhood in northeastern Seoul, where I work and live.

In a Temple’s Main Hall  
 

Down with Buddha!  
Down with handsome, well-fed Buddha!  
What’s he doing up there with that oh so casually  
   elegant wispy beard?  
Next, break down that painted whore of a crossbeam!  
A dragon’s head? What use is that, a dragon’s head?  
Tear down that temple, drive out the monks,  
turn it all into dust and maggots!  
Phaw!  

Buddha with nothing, that’s real Buddha!  
Our foul-mouthed Seoul street-market mother,  
   she’s real Buddha!  
We’re all of us Buddhabuddhabuddha real!  
Living Buddha? One single cigarette, now  
there’s real cool Holy buddha!  

No, not that either.  
For even supposing this world were a piece of cake,  
with everyone living it up and living well,  
in gorgeous high-class gear, with lots of goods produced  
thanks to Korean-American technological collaboration,  
each one able to live freely, with no robbing of rights,  
Paradise, even!  
Paradise, even!  
utter Eden unequalled, plastered with jewels, still even then,  
day after day people would have to change the world.  
Why, of course, in any case,  
day after day this world must all be overturned  
and renewed to become a newly blooming lotus flower.  
And that is Buddha.  

Down for sure with those fifteen hundred years  
rolling on foolish, rumbling along:  
time fast asleep like stagnant water that stinks and stinks.

. . . 

Here is a biography of Ko Un written by Brother Anthony (who also translated the above poem); here is a brief essay. And for more detail and more insight into the man and his poetics, read these Remarks on the World of Ko Un’s Poetry.

First Saturday of summer vacation. Monsoon season in Seoul. Wide cobblestone sidewalks wet, in some places submerged, with two or three days of rain. Dark overhanging trees dripping, not-so distant mountains completely obscured by mist and heavy clouds. Tangled cityscape of tall stone and glass and concrete buildings: narrow alleys, awnings, power lines. A labyrinth of asphalt and sidewalks and colorful signs. A few early-morning umbrella people going about their business. One hardcore hiker, heavy-duty boots and no sign of slowing, maybe on his way down from the mountain trails. Some drunken foreigners, nightclub clothes in disarray and dark circles under their eyes, making their way to McDonald’s for coffee and greasy breakfast sandwiches. 0600 and this is bedtime. Personally, I woke up too early and couldn’t get back to sleep. Humid air and no breeze; only the motion of the falling rain. And the sounds of the city waking itself up.

. . .

ARAS The Archive for Research in Archetypal Symbolism … ”Contains about 17,000 photographic images, each cross-indexed, individually mounted, and accompanied by scholarly commentary.  The commentary includes a description of the image with a cultural history that serves to place it in its unique historical and geographical setting.  Often it also includes an archetypal commentary that brings the image into focus for its modern psychological and symbolic meaning, as well as a bibliography for related reading and a glossary of technical terms.”

. . .

Parabola Magazine: Tradition, Myth, and the Search for Meaning … “The Society for the Study of Myth and Tradition is a not-for-profit organization devoted to the dissemination and exploration of materials relating to the myths, symbols, rituals, and art of the world’s religious and cultural traditions.” Website includes an excellent page of recommended links.

I arrived yesterday in Seoul, South Korea. I’ll try to post some news and/or pictures very soon…

. . . 

I believe that when I am in the mood that all nature is full of people whom we cannot see, and that some of these are ugly or grotesque, and some wicked or foolish, but very many beautiful beyond any one we have ever seen, and that these are not far away when we are walking in pleasant and quiet places. Even when I was a boy I could never walk in a wood without feeling that at any moment I might find before me somebody or something I had long looked for without knowing what I looked for. And now I will at times explore every little nook of some poor coppice with almost anxious footsteps, so deep a hold has this imagination upon me. …If beauty is not a gateway out of the net we were taken in at our birth, it will not long be beauty, and we will find it better to sit at home by the fire and fatten a lazy body or to run hither and thither in some foolish sport than to look at the finest show that light and shadow ever made among green leaves (54-55). 

Well known as one of the 20th century’s greatest poets, W.B. Yeats (1865 - 1939) was also a prolific folklorist. He traveled extensively in his home country of Ireland, recording the songs, poems and tales of scholars and peasants alike. These are fairy-tales, and ghost-stories, and much more. Set against the background of the green and misty Irish landscape, and woven together from the mystical imaginations of countless generations of poets and seers, these are first-person accounts of magical happenings, inexplicable danger, and indescribable beauty.

Yeats, W.B. The Celtic Twilight: Myth, Fantasy and Folklore. Dorset: Prism Press, 1990 (first published 1893).

With a nearly desperate sense of isolation and a growing suspicion that I lived in an alien land, I took to the open road in search of places where change did not mean ruin and where time and men and deeds connected (5).

Before I ever got my hands on it, my copy of William Least Heat-Moon’s Blue Highways already had its own history. A “not for sale in Canada” U.K. edition with a distinctive dark blue cover. The guy selling it to the used bookstore where I worked had bought it while traveling in India; between the pages were shiny labels peeled from Indian beer bottles, ticket stubs, and other travel mementos.

I was low. The loneliness of the long distance traveler. Try to forget it. Look at the land; it too is medicine (233).

I won’t attempt to write any kind of proper book review; many others have already done that better than I could. And I won’t attempt comparisons to On the Road or Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance - although all these books do have at least some important things in common. (Here is an interesting essay on the “myth of the road,” for example.) Blue Highways is travel writing in the best sense of the word, I think: it seeks to document both the author’s physical and inner journeys. Travel for its own sake, and travel as metaphor.

The highway, oh, the highway. No place, in theory, is boring of itself. Boredom lies only with the traveler’s limited perception and his failure to explore deeply enough (273). 

Least Heat-Moon, William. Blue Highways: A Journey Into America. London: Pan Books, 1984.

The Okanagan Valley, with its ponderosa pine air. Only a few more days left in Canada! So much to do; not much time for anything more than hurried pocket-notebook scribblings and, occasionally, sleep. Regardless, here are some thoughts on creativity - on being human - with thanks and appreciation to my Edmonton friend Mark.

. . . 

Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen - simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to be quiet, and still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.

- Franz Kafka

. . .

The mind that tries to shape tomorrow beyond its capacities will find no rest. Be kind to yourself - to our innocent follies.
Forget any sounds or touch you knew that did not help you dance. You will come to see that all evolves us.

- Rumi

Leaving Edmonton, Alberta - and moving to Seoul, South Korea. When will I be back? It’s a one-year teaching contract, but who knows?

It’s funny - I’ve spent so much time wanting to leave this city, but now that I’m on my way I’m sad to go. I’ll miss some people a lot. Summer is a hard time to be leaving - I’ll miss the River Valley’s green trails. You know that color: the underside of a leaf when the sun is shining on the top? An entire hillside of it, like walking under green flame (like Robert Frost’s “Nature’s first green is gold“)…

I’ll miss my job and the people at the Wee Book Inn.

Needless to say, this next month will be crazy; I may or may not have time to post anything. But I’ll try to add some more photos soon…