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Showing posts from October, 2019

A Poet's Journal: February 13th, 2015

  February 13th, 2015 Aiako Harria yesterday, first time this year; overtaken by the beauty.  It is at about this time along the hillsides and in the thickets that the brown of the end of winter starts mixing with the green of the beginning of spring. But an outing like this, though refreshing, can do nothing for the interior state of mind when one is tired and helpless; it only offers a slight reprieve, but we are back again, missing it: the sights, the sounds, the smell of the forest--somehow it only adds to the misfortune.  It is difficult to wander along the thin trails because we have built up a reason and an inspiration for our coming; there is a goal, a new plant to find; something to be attained, a new path to take.  All the expectation dies with each step, and yet it is still beautiful, still appealing, still the key to some secret meaning we have created for ourselves; and when we stop and look at it all, we realize we are merely the sum of our attainments, the sum that keeps

A Poet's Journal: August 25th, 2014

August 25th, 2014 The early fall of chestnuts and hazelnuts before the blackberries have turned ripe....  Even in the midst of solitude, surrounded by forest and mountain, time is our greatest constraint.  The further we walk the longer is the return and the wrong path means a wasted day.  It is not that we are burdened by our everyday affairs when doing other things, but that we are guided under a different mask to the same duration.  I walk in the woods as I walk in the street and only take note of trees as if they were passing cars.  The one has not polluted the other, but the source of the pollution is unified through me, and until that habit is broken, everything will always be the same. Douglas Thornton

A Poet's Journal: August 23rd, 2014

August 23rd, 2014 Sometimes we recognize the problem squarely in front of us, but take hold of it awkwardly; or sometimes we hold with a genuine hand that which needed not our guidance; and of the many other ways we may circle around the matter, it all comes down to aligning our perception with our intelligence, thereby forcing the former to perceive something that we have made ourselves believe, finding the solution inexistent, but nonetheless created by our own troubles.  Certainly problems exist and certainly solutions as well, but there is a point at which the mind is dulled and goaded into drudgery by them.  This derangement becomes a romantic illusion, which seems enviable and necessary to take after if we are to attain a somewhat unattainable goal--it is never taken for the stale nature it turns out to be.  For this very reason, confusion is cultivated because it is exciting and yields a chance to bring order, whereon solution becomes an end and not a means to create.

A Poet's Journal: July 21st, 2014

July 21st, 2014 When to persist and when to back down?  This is a question forever out of our grasp, yet constantly forcing us to reconsider our actions.  It is certainly a wonder why we have taken for granted the underlying meaning that both of them encompass: that of competition.  But we are born into this mindset, and feel that life means nothing unless it is based upon the value of win or loss, even though ultimately, in such terms, it must end with the latter.  The truth is, the question should be deferred and deferred again until we can no longer assume that it is our position in the race that matters, nor even how we get there, but that the drifting in and out of our current state of affairs is the only thing that is absolutely undeniable, and the only thing that is an eventual release to a perturbed mind. Douglas Thornton