Huntington Zen Garden (March 31, 2022) — Panorama by kenne
I have lost count of the number of times I have visited the Huntington Library, Art Museum, and Botanical Gardens, collections-based research, and educational institution in San Marino, California. The Huntington is like a “riprap” — loose rocks used as a foundation that a person can assemble before them.
Riprap
Lay down these words Before your mind like rocks, placed solid, by hands In choice of place, set Before the body of the mind in space and time: Solidity of bark, leaf, or wall riprap of things: Cobble of milky way, straying of planets, These poems, people, lost ponies with Dragging saddles— and rocky sure-foot trails. Game of Go. ants and pebbles In the thin loam, each rock a word a creek-washed stone Granite: ingrained with torment of fire and weight Crystal and sediment linked hot all change, in thoughts, As well as things.
Originally posted April 2011 on Becoming is Superior to Being. — kenne
“The only thing we can perceive are our perceptions. In other words, consciousness is the matrix upon which
the cosmos is apprehended. Color, sound, temperature, and the like exist only as perceptions in our head,
not as absolute essences. In the broadest sense, we cannot be sure of an outside universe at all.” — George Berkeley
Artist Along Sabino Creek In Sabino Canyon, April, 2011 — Image by kenne
Water
Pressure of sun on the rockslide Whirled me in dizzy hop-and-step descent, Pool of pebbles buzzed in a Juniper shadow, Tiny tongue of a this-year rattlesnake flicked, I leaped, laughing for little boulder-color coil– Pounded by heat raced down the slabs to the creek Deep tumbling under arching walls and stuck Whole head and shoulders in the water: Stretched full on cobble–ears roaring Eyes open aching from the cold and faced a trout.
The poem originally appeared Riprap, which was Snyder’s first book of poetry. For Snyder, nature as divine, which goes hand-in-hand with the biocentric nature of his Buddhist beliefs.
View Off Wilderness Rocks Trail in the Santa Catalina Mountains (08/08/14) — Image by kenne
2
In a tangle of cliffs, I chose a place – Bird paths, but no trails for me. What’s beyond the yard? White clouds clinging to vague rocks. Now I’ve lived here – how many years – Again and again, spring and winter pass. Go tell families with silverware and cars “What’s the use of all that noise and money?”
— Han-shan, Cold Mountain Poems Translated by Gary Snyder
Pipevine Swallowtail Butterfly On A Bearded Penstemon — Image by kenne
Thinking about a poem I’ll never write. With gut on wood and hide, and plucking thumb, Grope and stutter for the words, invent a tune, In any tongue, this moment one time true Be wine or blood of rhythm drives it through— A leap of words to things and there it stops. Creating empty caves and tools in shops And holy domes, and nothing you can name; The long old chorus blowing underfoot Makes high wild notes of mountains in the sea. O Muse, a goddess gone astray Who warms the cow and makes the wise man sane, (& even madness gobbles demons down) Then dance through jewelled trees & lotus crowns For Narihira’s lover, the crying plover, For babies grown and childhood homes And moving, moving, on through scenes and towns Weep for the crowds of men Like birds gone south forever.
Goal: Clean air, clean clear-running rivers, the presence of Pelican and Osprey and Gray Whale in our lives; salmon and trout in our streams; unmuddied language and good dreams.
Pusch Ridge Wilderness, Santa Catalina Mountains — Photo-Artistry by kenne
The path to Han-shan’s place is laughable, A path, but no sign of cart or horse. Converging gorges – hard to trace their twists Jumbled cliffs – unbelievably rugged. A thousand grasses bend with dew, A hill of pines hums in the wind. And now I’ve lost the shortcut home, Body asking shadow, how do you keep up?
My home was at Cold Mountain from the start,
Rambling among the hills, far from trouble.
Gone, and a million things leave no trace
Loose, and it flows through the galaxies
A fountain of light, into the very mind—
Not a thing, and yet it appears before me:
Now I know the pearl of the Buddha-nature
Know its use: a boundless perfect sphere.
Time To Rest The Feet (FotoFest 10/24/02) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
View West From Blackett’s Ridge Across Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
Snow In the Santa Catalina Mountains — Images by kenne
Honey Bee On Elegant Lupin — Image by kenne
Sabino Canyon, Santa Catalina Mountains — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Snow On Mountain — Image by kenne
Becoming is Superior to Being 