Posts Tagged ‘ dark ’

Cosmos Night: Flood of Light | FOP

from the program for ALN micro-production, Cosmos Night: Flood of Light, risograph zine

Our research and preparation for the project found quite a few examples of human awareness of the material reality that dark exists within light, light exists within dark. Our risograph zine produced for Cosmos Night: Flood of Light is our creative response to these examples. One is the Sandokai, a Chinese poem from the 700s (which we’ve written about before) — [Our project, Turning into the Night, has found a deep a home within the lines of Zen ancestor Shitou’s 1300 year old poem entitled the Sandokai (known in English as the Identity of the Relative and Absolute). We first encountered the poem several years ago. Now, both our project and the increased pressure of the Anthropocene have opened new pathways into two of its lines: “Within light there is darkness, but do not try to understand that darkness; Within darkness there is light, but do not look for that light”. John Daido Loori’s translation (available via Zen Mountain Monastery), in particular links us to the deep, enigmatic roots of Daoism, which conceptualized human existence within evolving planetary limits.] — reads in part: Within light there is darkness, but do not try to understand that darkness; Within darkness there is light, but do not look for that light.”). And, in David Hinton’s translation of a collection of Zen koans (No-Gate Gateway), Case #39, entitled “CLOUD GATE ALL WRONG” begins, “A monk asked Cloud-Gate Mountain, Radiant brilliance silently illuminates this Cosmos vast as Ganges sands…”

We are inspired by the history of humans sitting still, observing, sensing, thinking, and creating in relation to the vast material realities that shape our lives intimately—while using nothing more or less than their brains/bodies/minds.

Cosmos Night: Flood of Light aims to be an occasion where, together with participants, we will empirically experience the 360 degrees of wild, blinding light stretching before us for billions of light-years, and unhinge a few of the names we’ve used to point at (and miss) the wildly unpredictable forces that are neither nameable objects nor binary opposites: night, day, light, dark, sun, moon. We hope to do this in an undistracted state, using the “technologies” of our bodies, the out of doors, the night sky, and aesthetic experience. We hope to gain (re-discover?) an embodied experience of reweaving our selves into the cosmos.

Additional documentation will be posted in October 002019.

 

Source: Cosmos Night: Flood of Light | FOP

Making Tea and Life at the 23.5 degree tilt of the Earth | FOP

digital camera obscura of summer solstice tea ceremony, 6:07am EDT, June 21, 002018, all images this post FOP 002018

On June 21, 002018 smudge studio held a tea ceremony at Head of the Meadow beach in Truro, Massachusetts. The ceremony coincided with the moment of summer solstice at 6:07 a.m. EDT, 5:07 a.m. “sun time.” Ceremonial tea (matcha) was whisked.

With significantly less use of electric lights and devices, other rhythms surfaced for us. We took special notice of how plants, light, temperature, other creatures are deeply attuned to the day/night cycle. The effects and interconnections of their different attunements are deep, evolutionary, material realities. Yet, we realized we’ve been missing most of this. By staying up long after dark, and waking up long after daylight arrives, the lived experience of the transition into and out of night, and all that it commands, is truncated. It’s typical for most humans to wake into and go to sleep out of a world/reality filled to the brim with human-centered concerns, awarenesses, and thoughts. The sense that human existence is the biggest force/reality at play easily takes center stage.

And yet, by exposing our bodies and minds to the transition of day into night, and night into day, spin after spin, we quickly realized that this daily transformation is actually much vaster and enduring than us. Over billions of years, lifeforms that led to we humans literally evolved out of and in response to the continuously moving, angled “line” of day/night. Its rhythms and effects are deeply embedded within us and play out as “us.” Our bodies and brains, eyes, cells, blood, gut bacteria, are ruled by circadian rhythms that we must live by, or else live out the consequences of futile attempts to deny them (see Foster and Krietzman’s 2005, Rhythms of Life: The Biological Clocks that Control the Daily Lives of Every Living Thing for details on the human illnesses that result from attempts to override a human body’s biological “clock”).  – FOP

Source: Making Tea and Life at the 23.5 degree tilt of the Earth | FOP

John Yau reads from Bijoux in the Dark – Don Yorty

 

 

Source: John Yau reads from Bijoux in the Dark – Don Yorty

Rilke – Dear Darkening Ground

Dear Darkening Ground

 

Dear darkening ground,
you’ve endured so patiently the walls we’ve built,
perhaps you’ll give the cities one more hour

and grant the churches and cloisters two.
And those that labor—let their work
grip them another five hours, or seven,

before you become forest again, and water, and widening wilderness
in that hour of inconceivable terror
when you take back your name
from all things.

Just give me a little more time!

I want to love the things
as no one has thought to love them,
until they’re worthy of you and real.

 

Rainier Maria Rilke

Book of Hours, I 61

Donna Fleischer ∞ two poems in Solitary Plover issue 27 Winter 2018

down
pour

my furious heart

*

the crow
first to rise, its
silent aubade

o dark,
dark nature

of light

 

Donna Fleischer

Solitary Plover Issue 27 Winter 2018

高橋新吉 Takahashi Shinkichi (1901-1987)

Shell

Nothing, nothing at all
is born,
dies, the shell says again
and again
from the depth of hollowness.
Its body
swept off by tide—so what?
It sleeps
in sand, drying in sunlight,
bathing
in moonlight. Nothing to do
with sea
or anything else. Over
and over
it vanishes with the wave.

 

Afternoon

My hair’s falling fast—
this afternoon
I’m off to Asia Minor.

 

Sweet Potato

Of all things living
I’d be a sweet potato,
fresh dug up.

 

Moon

Moon shines while billions
of corpses rot
beneath earth’s crust.
I who rise from them,
soon to join them—all.
Where does moon float?
On the waves of my brain.

 

Explosion

I’m an unthinking dog,
a good-for-nothing cat,
a fog over gutter,
a blossom-swiping rain.

I close my eyes, breathe—
radioactive air! A billion years
and I’ll be shrunk to half,
pollution strikes my marrow.

So what—I’ll whoop at what
remains. Yet scant blood left,
reduced to emptiness by nuclear
fission, I’m running very fast.

 

Absence

Just say, “He’s out”—
back in
five billion years!

Gods

Gods are everywhere:
war between Koshi and Izumo
tribes still rages.

The all of All, the One
ends distinctions.

The three thousand worlds
are in that plum blossom.
The smell is God.

 

 

Cloud

I’m cheerful, whatever happens,
a puff in sky—
what splendor exists, I’m there.

 

Source: 高橋新吉 Takahashi Shinkichi (1901-1987)

Divine Magnet » Leopoldine Core

Leopoldine Core

Chair

Baltimore is the darkest place

it’s basically been fucked with

damp houses

meat in the trees

And you are the world’s most

intrepid salesman

Energy

that’s what you have

instead of Harvard.

You make me feel

like a kitten

with a wallet

with a wallet

But the sun is strange

pencil light pouring

out of a hole and

I can’t move in this house

someone’s life

is still here

the bed is warm

with it.

Why do I go on the internet

when everywhere else

is heaven?

Even the torture

of watching my hand

in the bathwater

Even the flat silver

light of Baltimore.

I came here

I thought it was free

I wanted to write poetry

God was in a car in the sky

and I shouted my arm is so weak

and he said I know

it’s like a toothpick holding a machine

and I saw his face for a minute

Satan’s bacony lips

It wasn’t God

just some confident animal

in a car

And the trees were

kind of purring

And I noticed my legs

were gone.

We’re like something

that camps out

in your home

here is the chair

here is the door

opening

the glare of light

on your tongue

heaven touches me

again

the text

is its own animal

panting

in the dark.

Divine Magnet » Leopoldine Core.