zenscribe

À propos de zenscribe

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.

décembre 2010

Threading away

Par |2015-10-02T17:51:16+01:00décembre 5th, 2010|Textes|

Strung a number of years ago between trees outside my bedroom window, the Tibetan prayer flag is now threading away into the foliage. Today in the icy drizzle, it seems at once destitute, diminished, alone, lost in the tangle of leaf and branch, its colors now faded from their once-brilliant glory, and unflappably resilient, an [...]

Gifts, received and offered

Par |2015-10-02T17:06:30+01:00décembre 1st, 2010|Textes|

Among the birthday gifts I received and for which I am grateful, there was this, from students in Portugal, which I now offer here, like "the scattering leaves:" Make the universe your companion, always bearing in mind the true nature of things - mountains and rivers, trees and grasses, and humanity. Enjoy the falling blossoms [...]

novembre 2010

End of the month, another wave

Par |2015-10-02T17:06:52+01:00novembre 30th, 2010|Textes|

A "last" entry of the month comes amid a chill across the Continent. The back garden has been white for two days. Also this entry comes amid another wave of "transparency" from the WikiLeaks people. What's this obsession with exposing everything and everyone? Within darkness there is light, but don't look for that light. Within [...]

In the midst of at-easiness

Par |2015-10-02T17:48:07+01:00novembre 27th, 2010|Textes|

A hectic week has led to this, a ragged Saturday for which there had once been other plans. Those plans changed. Which opened an unexpected vista of the "unexpected." I could think in terms of "lost and found": I "lost" what I had planned to do this weekend (Zen Art); I "found" what I had [...]

Dust (lurking around each corner)

Par |2015-10-02T17:07:21+01:00novembre 21st, 2010|Textes|

Paging through the day, from early to late afternoon. Desires abound, lurking around each corner. Streets in the Marais are packed with them. What happened there? What happened to Goldenberg's? Only the corner remains. And commercial real estate reigns. We visit the "Marché de la poésie." I'd like to be inspired, but instead find myself [...]

Poetics online

Par |2017-04-04T06:58:18+01:00novembre 20th, 2010|Poésie|

See some of my recent writing in the special France issue of the online magazine ekleksographia: http://ekleksographia.ahadadabooks.com/france/ And as long as we're at it, also online, although less recent: http://connaissances.blogspot.com/2008/01/bosquet.html

Beyond the known world, in the rain scattered lightly

Par |2015-10-02T17:07:43+01:00novembre 18th, 2010|Textes|

It might be in the rain that comes scattered lightly at moments and at others full, direct, as if in a linear flow, or in the sun that is known by absence these autumn days. Or in chatter among strangers on the crowded morning train. Or in multi-colored balloons strung along a café facade in [...]

Riffing with Keith (and then it’s gone)

Par |2017-04-04T06:58:18+01:00novembre 14th, 2010|Textes|

The weekend newspapers are full of words, stories, images, reflections, conventions, stereotypes, observations, almost everything that can be said fast. After all, journalism is called "literature in a hurry." Much of it has already been "overtaken" by events before it's even printed. Wasn't it the Stones who sang, "Who wants yesterday's paper?" And speaking of [...]

Born to be wild

Par |2015-10-02T17:08:15+01:00novembre 11th, 2010|Textes|

It's wild "out there" tonight, fierce, icy wind whipping up rain and rousing the trees. Wild? As in out of control? Not tame? Free? Reminds me of a Zen story: A student asks a master: "All wild thoughts of mundane passions are hard to subdue; how can they be quieted?" The master replies: "Thinking of [...]

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