As I become the words

//As I become the words

As I become the words

This weekend I traveled to Amsterdam and back. People, places and things were not where and what they were supposed to be, and yet everything was in its place.
I read poems with other poets and musicians as a packed room and Proust in a painting listened. I don’t remember the applause, but I’m sure there was some. Reading fills my mouth and heart as I become the words I’ve put on the page. Thus I realize I am the poem.

Today the sky is a color I can’t really call blue, although I can’t not call it blue, either. Tears are the same color sometimes. And in any case, the sky is spectacularly just what it is, this afternoon still the luminous splendor that met me this morning while still in my bed. Day advances, and sun and wind and I, although none of us are going anywhere.

By | 2015-10-02T12:39:19+01:00 octobre 12th, 2009|Textes|4 Comments

About the Author:

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Enseignante Zen et poète, Sensei Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell est née et a grandi à Minneapolis, aux Etats-Unis. Arrivée en France en 1981 pour étudier la littérature et l’histoire, elle y est restée, s’installant à Paris, où elle élève ses deux enfants et gagne sa vie en tant que journaliste. The Zen teacher and poet Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell Sensei was born and raised in Minneapolis, but came to France in 1981 to study literature and history and has lived in Paris ever since, raising her two children and making a living as a journalist.

4 Comments

  1. Tiago 13 octobre 2009 at 23 h 03 min - Reply

    Although I wasn’t there I’m sure each one of those who were there "performing" their art became it. I just don’t know if they knew it or not 🙂
    I think that when writing something or playing music we are what we are doing as well as when we cook or wash the dishes. The difference is being aware of it I guess.

    As I was reading the second part I remembered something I read a few days ago by Alexandre O’Neill in the 70’s. It calls "Blue air" (I’m not an expert in translation but I’ll try my best):

    blue more blue than all the blue of the sea
    blue more blue than all the blue of the world
    how blue the blue has
    there in the blue sky
    to where my little bird blue-away

  2. little lake 12 octobre 2009 at 23 h 38 min - Reply

    blue is a word with 4 lettres that has nothing to do with what we experience …
    In chinese i am sure the word will be totaly different –
    Even the colour that is formed in our eyes is made by the quality of the light…
    all a frequency of energy
    nothing solid
    everything deeply interconnected

    it is beautifull to be the poem

  3. tu es cela 12 octobre 2009 at 23 h 09 min - Reply

    Missed you, too, although now reading each other, we meet here.
    Answering your bow, thank you.

  4. Wilem.. 12 octobre 2009 at 19 h 59 min - Reply

    Beautiful.. Sory I missed your reading/becoming/being poems.. Though I’m sure also it was OK.. Deep Gassho, W

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