He is a living God, so we don’t need your laws of nutrition and insurance: Whatever we consume with a prayerful heart, we get what we need Read More
To Marguerite while alone tonight,
Not even the wind stirs to brush or slap my skin
And I must remove my boots to feel the cold earth,
Prodigal with its minerals in its youth and
Tropical only by nostalgia, Read More
One of the greatest contemporary authors of American literature once described a character’s storytelling as being able to “make you smell the smoke from an unlit fire.” After having reread Annie Proulx’s oeuvre, I attribute this compliment to the Pulitzer Prize winning fiction writer herself. Here is a list of Proulx’s top similes and metaphors, compiled from four volumes of short stories and five novels (in chronological order. If I’ve missed some of your favorites, I’d love to hear from you.) Enjoy!
From Heart Songs and Other Stories (1988)
1. “Stong’s eyes shone like those of a greedy barn cat who has learned to fry mice in butter.” from ‘On the Antler’
2. “Earl was paying Santee three hundred dollars a week and he hadn’t shot a single bird. ‘How’s about this?’ said Santee, feeling more and more like a cheating old whore every time they went [hunting].” from ‘The Unclouded Day’
3. “Santee had not heard shooting birds was that hard, but he knew Earl was no good; he had the reflexes of a snowman.” from ‘The Unclouded Day’
4. “‘She’s Archie Noury’s wife. Rose Noury. Left Archie, come to live with Warren. For how long, who knows? What I call leaving the frying pan for the fire.’” from ‘A Country Killing’ Read More
Don’t say it, lest they put you
With nothing to write with and
No intake paper to tear up into small pieces to make kinesthetic words
The sponge tooth brush they give you
Having no bristles
To rip out and make words Read More
Reading Crime and Punishment in the dark and wet rural Chinese winter and Joshua got sick with a fever on the border town. Wanting to kill the nihilist prick, “Rodya,” I explored the streets alone and brought back a paper bowl of noodles. The inherent problem with writing is that it delineates thought and action. Can we write and free ourselves from further categorization, further erring by playing tricks that depend on the duality illusion? Read More
To sacrifice smarts for wisdom
Simplicity the gift, the dream of the ages
All these lines evolve into something greater than themselves
Greatness intrinsic to the word-seeds
If you could love a perfect prophet then you know love Read More
“We all need to get back down on our knees,” preacher Raleigh implores the congregation as a chorus of ‘Amens’ arises from the dutiful. He had been illustrating the self-induced problems that we as a collective body, as a nation, and as individuals had made since getting up off our knees in a fever of adolescent obstinacy. In delirium we decided that we could follow the sweet things of the world, the pretty and shiny and comfortable words and feelings; no need for humility because we knew all the answers. They tickled our taste buds and had us coming back for more.
Upon realizing the error of our ways, why then do we incessantly lament over our reckless faux pas and, instead of applying our learning, perpetuate the grand gaucherie? Like a dog chasing his own tail: amusing at first and maddening thereafter. Breaking free of these enigmatic questions by neglecting them, we ascend into the roots of our ways. (‘Ascending’ into ‘roots’ may be a difficult conceptual image, but as we can learn from countless survival stories in real-life and in literature, the only honest way ‘up and out’ is to ‘go down and through’.) But instead of being our roots, we remove ourselves from them and consciously view them from a new vantage point. We become artists and mechanics working on a masterpiece and are able to see clearly what color and/or part we need to complete the piece.
A common diagnosis in our society today, according to Chinese medicine is liver qi stagnation, or simply ‘being stuck in our ways.’ For instance, superstitions are fun for games, but when we begin to put all our faith into them – time-out. Enough of the funny business. Superstitious beliefs, as drying cement, solidify when we forget that our models are only prototypes: symbols, mnemonic devices, templates to help us build a sound structure upon which to begin living. But how exhausting it is to live by rigidity in a clearly dynamic world! Would it even be living? Even if the model intended to teach flow and balance, as most valid idol-ic images do—think food pyramid, a statue of a Buddha, or the Wu Xing diagram—they in themselves are obdurate and static. Yet, the moment we realize we are taking the whole cosmology or system too seriously is one to rejoice indeed! We can laugh out loud as we picture ourselves trying to authentically live our lives through the prism of a rigid model-idol. We are free to be human again. Our health is ready to be restored.
Body positioning, or geomancy, plays an important factor in acupuncture as it does in Chinese philosophy, and as in Chinese philosophy, as it does in the universe. How we position our bodies, whether consciously, not, or a little of both, communicates a great deal to our surrounding world. As Raleigh made aware, kneeling is a way for us to offer sincere apologies and admit our lowliness. In acupuncture, by lying prostrate and face-down we may acknowledge our weaknesses and communicate to the world that we are at that moment unable to be receptive to challenging stimuli. It is a way to give our blood a rest. During cupping, a face-down patient communicated that she was surrendering herself to the caring hands of an artist. By lying face-up we similarly give our bodies the needed rest to realign, but we are also open to changes. In this way the effects of acupuncture can be immediate. A patient recently came into our clinic somber and in pain. By the time I pulled his needles he was refilled with joyous stories: “When I was a grandkid we’d just sit around and talk with them [grandparents], but now they expect you to actually do stuff with them [grandkids]. I got my five-year old granddaughter saying to me on the seabed [family-room floor], ‘Mermaid-boy, you’re not flipping!’”
Positioning ourselves with respect to our world is essentially how healing by acupuncture works. Though we activate one pressure point, its effects are begotten elsewhere. Similarly, in writing this I did not work from an outline or even delineate a definite end result, but began by simply getting on my knees and picking up a pen. By my being activated, the healing flowed by some meridian to the organ—the body—that needed it.
© 2012, Amaya Engleking
Words are nutrients for the lone poet. She who, in loving devotion, asks for revelations from God, is shown the brilliant design in golden fish-scale scapes layered as soft pearly flakes– rising miracles from the cracked crust of the earth, with each new world existing both for, and because of, divine love. She dips into one pool and each ripple is a new-born dream, manifest as human on earth, as star in sky, as song in space. Read More
Annie Proulx asks, “For who has not heard music at the end of the day, [the most impressionable time] the quarter-light infused by somber harmonies that say everything that has ever been said?”
Yet even after glimpsing –and thereby eternally believing– this revelation, I still chase the black dragon of writing; believing in even stronger than moments that cannot be expressed in words, the ones that only can. There is a profound statement that mystifies the ages in the opening to John’s gospel, and meditating on ‘Christ as God’s word’ carries me to these far reaches of human belief: that not only can we define the indefinable, but it is our duty as writers to pursue the journey. Read More
The mind fragile; he crosses an ocean and all disintegrates into order.
Into her arms he goes; rip, decision, spill. Freeing the border.
The old line awakens into dance, A New One! The rhythm spins.
The beat of every blue shade. Simple: A new wor(l)d begins. Read More