i remember lying ill in bed on my fifth birthday. i was lying in my parents' big double bed in our bungalow in Thornhill and the party celebrations were going-on without me. It was a large double bed that took-up most of the room. i think a fire had been lit in the grate. It was very cold. February was always very cold...icicles from gutters etcetera. The bedroom door had been left open and i could see the light from the dining-room opposite. There was a lot of noise and the party was going-on without me. On reflection, there would only have been my parents, my older brother, Christopher and Uncle Dennis. Uncle Dennis brought me a small black-and-white panda. And i was somewhat comforted to have it nestled beside me in bed. i cannot remember any other gifts. i remember a cake had been made, and doubtless other things, but i was very hot and poorly and consumed neither food nor drink. It was impossible to eat or even sit-up. i cannot remember anyone fussing over me. The party was going-on without me. It is the only birthday party of mine i have any recollection of. And it is 60 years since then. It is a little after midnight and my 66th year is dawning. Maybe i will stay awake the whole 24 hours of my 65th birthday - (february 1st). In case there is a party, i would not want to miss it and have it go-on without me. But i will endeavour to attend to this present, wonderful moment and not miss a bite of what may be on offer...without expectation.

Before zazen this evening, i lit candles near my Buddha - something i do not ordinarily do - occasionally i light incense. While sitting, it did come to mind, as to why i actually lit the candles. i really do not think i need to "set an atmosphere" for my zazen practice. More and more - influenced by the writings of Toni Packer - it is enough just to sit quietly. No bowing. No special posture. No timing of sitting periods...But afterwards i was moved to make a little film...

 

}i{



5 POEMS - monday morning - 5am

1.self-massage

body like dough

needs kneading.

 

2. nervous

more than 40 years of baking -

this morning

for an artist.

 

3. economical

have denied myself warmth

thru recent cold days  
loaves and i

share the fire.

 

4. the gift - for Mick

i was drinking Porter

 "Irish" you say

i'll be making a Spelt loaf

 with honey

NOT

Soda Bread

with buttermilk.

 

5. sun

will silently digest

the crumbs

of this morning's

reveries.

28/january/2013

 

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TED ENSLIN'S WORDS on my mind over the last 48 hours of this last week-end of January, on the cusp of entering my 66'th year. It would seem to be an affront to cool skin, to allow anything more than a weak, winter sun to "heat-up" this house in this "space" that i am in = "I tend to congratulate a life, that lived, is harder than it need be."

 

}i{

 



Flowering winter jasmine in a courtyard in Abbotsbury ---Just a few small yellow flowers remind me of my parent's garden in Thornhill many years ago --- What has become of them in the falling rain on a warm winter's night like this, as i awake and immediately think of them? and am warmed by the falling rain on a night like this...on a night like this...

LAURA SPEAKS

LAURA was my mother's school-friend in Alexandria, in the 1930's, but now living in Athens, if she is still alive. It is almost two years since i last heard her voice on the phone.We shared a few, long conversations following my telling her that Mum had died. She was deeply touched by my missives with that news and wanted to be in touch and keep some connection as she had always kept in touch over the decades by letter and telephone. 

LAURA's home was literally across the street from where my mother's family - the TAWA's - lived in Rue Canope. She would wave to them from her balcony - wave to Berthe (my mother) & Lydie (my mother's elder sister, who followed her to England after WW2 and became a second mother to us Hemensley children). Lydie and Berthe were the last of seven children. LAURA said she would stand and wave, and gaze at the five beautiful Tawa girls. LAURA said ,that her mother had told her to make friends with them, so she did

LAURA said, that eventually, they (Laura, Lydie and Berthe) would always walk to school each morning. "Your mother and I, would go to the Lycee Francais, and Lydie went to a senior school, being a little older." They would be trailed by a group of boys on the pavement across the road, trying to catch their eye. "It was your mother they were after," said LAURA, "as she was the friendliest!"

LAURA told me how her brother, Anthony, was in love with my Aunty Lydia when they were teenagers. He would sing to her from the street outside her window, and play the violin. It was a little Romeo-and-Juliette. But i knew the story of this "affair" from my Aunty herself - she was always telling me about her "Antoine" or "Antoon" as she sometimes referred lovingly towards him. He was a poet as well. (In fact, he emigrated to the States; was a professor at a minor University and i think, published a couple of volumes of poetry, Laura told me.)........to be continued, hopefully !!!

 

 

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Golden GOJI Hermitage

18 january 2013

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Reworking a 40 year-old Poem - after Gary Snyder

Two little boys
in shorts
on the jetty
down at Haslar Creek
One throws-out a line
hoping for a fish
The other  relieves himself -
a line of piss
arcing into the water.

*
Alverstoke 1970/ Weymouth 2010

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