I.
“The moon and sun are eternal travelers. Even the years wander on. A
lifetime adrift in a boat, or in old age leading a tired horse into the years,
every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.”
That quote is from Matsuo Basho in Sam Hamill’s translation of “A
Narrow Road to the Interior” published by Shambhala Books in 1991. Basho is one
of my role models – a wandering poet in 17th century Japan. Basho’s
practice at the end of every day was to make note of what he saw and heard, who
he met, gossip, weather, and landscape. He used these observations to write his
poems.
Basho was continuing a tradition from the 11th century
maintained primarily by Japanese women—the nikki, or “day book.”
Contemporary poet Andrew Schelling calls this practice a “peerless literary
tradition based on the diary form.” Into it went observations of events,
people, places visited, conversations overheard as well as natural history and
local news.
Schelling writes that this tradition is being continued by Joanne
Kyger, one of the early West Coast “Beat” poets. Kyger was the first wife of
Gary Snyder and traveled with him and Allen Ginsberg to Japan and India. She
has spent significant time in Mexico and calls her writing journal her “casa,”
her little home when she’s on the road.
All of this will be familiar to naturalists, journalists, and
anthropologists who write up their field notes ate the end of the day. Sailors keep logs as do lab
scientists. And lots of writers and visual artists do their own versions.
That’s why I’m calling this column “Field Notes: A Journal of Story,
Place and Ideas.” I’ll be bringing reports of my own as well as those of other
writers. We’ll hear about Portugal, Newfoundland, Mexico, Sears Island and
Satellite Beach. We won’t just be looking at visits to far-flung places,
though, or even our own backyards. “Field Notes” will be about journeying through
our days and paying attention to what we find along the way. After all, Basho
said, “Every day is a journey.”
II.
Here is a poem of mine that began its life as field notes.
Hymn
Monte Alban, Oaxaca
Now
that I’m here again, I remember the bees.
Thirty
years ago, I was at this place and I remember
the
bees, intense even then with their noisy work, swarming
us,
making a life from this dry landscape: the moment
of
flowering theirs.
A
mere 2500 years earlier, humans built here to worship
over
a wide ocean of bare mountains, leaving what we call ruins,
gods
forgotten yet deeply remembered.
But
the bees -
how
many years for them the sweet nectar of their praisemaking?
And
before that,
the
hard-packed earth singing.
III.
I’ll be coming back to Mexico, and Beat poets, and maybe bees
in future columns, among other things. Today I’ll leave you with an excerpt
from Joanne Kyger’s chapbook “Patzcuaro” published in 1999 by Blue Millennium. Patzcuaro is a mountain town in the
Mexican state of Michoacan.
“Could be anywhere
on Earth and
Time focused completely
focused on chopping
the tomatoes, chilies, and onions.”
What an elegant re-begining of your blog. I love Basho's practice of field notes, laced through time to the bees in your poem from Oaxaca. The depth in your reflecting and noticing the details of life are a welcome refuge and rest for my spirit in these tumultuous times. Thank you. I look forward to what is coming! Especially stories from Portugal!
ReplyDeleteNice to find you through MWPA's blog this morning!
ReplyDelete