Joe's Black Dog

Joe's Black Dog
Joe's Black Dog by Marjorie Weiss

01 August 2013

'The Living I Ching' by Deng Ming-Dao

Snow Ghosts On Polar Peak by DCZwick
Snow Ghosts On Polar Peak, a photo by DCZwick on Flickr.

'The Origin' p. 9

'Emptiness is silence ... It is the quiet that falls with the snow, when the fields of labour are covered in white and trees have withdrawn into patience. That quietness is not the cessation of shouts, pounding feet, and pumping arms, but their origin. It is the source of day and the origin of spring. Silence is not the end. It is the beginning ... 
Only after silence breaks into sound does emptiness become all things.'

http://www.dengmingdao.com/

28 July 2013

'The hero and the idol' from 'Permanent Red' by John Berger

Graffiti Hero by incurable_hippie
Graffiti Hero, a photo by incurable_hippie on Flickr.

'The function of the hero in art is to inspire the reader or spectator to continue in the same spirit from where he, the hero, leaves off. He must release the spectator's potentiality, for potentiality is the historical force behind nobility. And to do this the hero must be typical of the characters and class who at that time only need to be made aware of their heroic potentiality in order to be able to make their society juster and nobler...

The function of the idol (stars, TV personalities, etc) is the exact opposite of the hero. The idol is self-sufficient: the hero never is. The idol is so superficially desirable, spectacular, witty, happy, that he or she merely supplies a context for fantasy and therefore, instead of inspiring, lulls. The idol is based on the appearance of perfection, but never on the striving towards it. In fact the idol does more than lull, because the spectator, identifying himself with the idol, and feeling that he shares or possesses its qualities, becomes complacent and self-satisfied.'

http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2011/apr/23/john-berger-life-in-writing

24 July 2013

Craig Powell, 'Poetry on the Brain', Meanjin, December 2004

'Early in that period of analysis it came to me that the worlds of psychoanalysis and poetry are one and the same. 

I was having a session with my analyst, free associating, so the conversation took all kinds of knight's-move and dog-leg turns. 

And my analyst made a few quiet responses that helped me see there was an unexpected unity to all of this, a thread of meaning connecting all the images and going to the depths of the relationship between us.

I realised with quiet delight that a good session is a poem. It felt the same as when disparate images finally cohere with unexpected depth and a poem is made. Not all my poems achieve that, of course, just as not all therapy sessions achieve a state of profound connection. But some do, and that's always an occasion for gratitude.'

http://meanjin.com.au/