Treading the mountain path, The violets fill my heart With indefinable gracefulness.
*Basho (Japanese, 1644)
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I speak of getting out of our skin. Yet, when we do, we invite the other into our heart. We can invite the world inside our skin, but only if we meet it outside. Then, there is no inside or outside, only space, only meeting.
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Basho walks with violets; violets fill his heart. Others walk the same way, empty of violets, empty of gracefulness, seeing violets as only violets. For seeing ones, violets are not only violets, the moon in the sky more than what appears in the sky. Basho walks joyfully for violets are violets and more than violets. If violets were only violets, how could they fill his heart with such speechless gratitude?
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March 2021 -
It is a cold January day in Maine. I tread through the snow, off the beaten path, and gaze upon the Androscoggin River. I stand in a secluded place to rest body and soul. Standing for a while, I decide to sit. Snow is everywhere, covering everything around with its white, above, below.
I see a large boulder with a good view, and with gloved hands, carve out a seat on it. Sitting here beside the river, I enjoy the scene, the silence, the quiet, the peace and joy filling the body. Here, I am a cup Life fills... with Itself - Praise!
Traffic flows on the other side of the flowing waters. Thought moves like the current, yet not disturbing the solace and reverie.
The words arise alone with the Alone. Yet, this alone is not isolation, even as the Alone is not apart from everything.
Here is Home, and returning Home means living at Home. Leaving the river, the river goes with me, and I go with the river.
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Once upon a time, tourists boarded a bus to enjoy the views of beautiful land. They had looked forward to this scenic ride.
For some minor reason, one person was offended by another one. An argument between the two arose. The fussing offended a third tourist. She started arguing with the man whom the former decided was to blame. Now, three were quarreling.
One person at a time joined the row. Finally, all were involved in the verbal jostling. No one recalled what started it.
The bus pulled in to stop. The tour was over. The tourists were sad. No one had enjoyed the scenes along the way, so busy were they fussing, trying to prove who was right and who wrong. No one saw the beauty.
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Basho and violets arise together. For Basho, to see is Basho and violets. Basho does not concern himself with questions about violets - he enjoys violets.
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How can you and violets enjoy being together? How can they fill your heart? If violets do, you do not know what one is - as says Basho, "indefinable gracefulness," for a violet and this gracefulness are not-two. For those who think they know what a violet is, the I-know means I-don't-know. One knows when one becomes the violets - they have waited for this, so have you.
There is some deep feeling in the love between self and violets, not emotional, but very real, more so than what we call emotion - so real one can find it intimidating. Yet, in learning to live with and love with violets, self and violets live peacefully together.
Wherever you go, violets are with you, and you are with violets - how wondrous! One violet is all violets. You see violets everywhere, even where there is only sand. Sand is violets, too, and so is the sky and the face of someone you see for the first time pass you by on the street. Then, gratitude is not merely something you have or express; gratitude is the beauty you feel deep within. This within is not just your within. Do you see?
*Use of photography is allowed accompanied by credit given to Brian K. Wilcox and title and place of photographs.
*Brian's book, An Ache for Union: Poems on Oneness with God through Love, can be ordered through major online booksellers or the publisher AuthorHouse.
