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.

mai 2009

Retreat notes (I)

Par |2015-10-02T14:18:29+01:00mai 22nd, 2009|Textes|

Retreat notes, Day I, Les Longues Bruyères: Brilliant sun all day, as if a blessing. For no apparent reason. Slept restlessly, with strange dreams in the night. As if something hard didn't want to go away. Long stretches of sitting, with birdsong, light wind, clouds outside the bay windows thrown open, drifting. Willow the cat [...]

Time to move on

Par |2015-10-02T14:19:12+01:00mai 21st, 2009|Textes|

Here, an "absence" is a "presence" enhancing the experience of what I call the no-escape-universe: quiet holiday street, sun dipping in and out of clouds, bag packed to go. What next? The afternoon is everything, a burst of blossoms and leaves, asphalt littered with cigarette butts and a pink cup. The doorbell rings. Time to [...]

A piece of unstained silk at noon

Par |2015-10-02T14:19:48+01:00mai 14th, 2009|Textes|

Sitting here wondering about torpor at midday, pausing for no apparent reason amid translating work that I like. I am turned to thoughts of what to say. Thoughts of having to say something. Cars come and go outside. The cloud cover thins. Cat upset when moved. Voices pass in the street. I am stillness passing [...]

Spread out, ubiquitous

Par |2015-10-02T14:20:29+01:00mai 9th, 2009|Textes|

As Henri Michaux wrote, l'abandon de l'empire de moi m'a étendu infiniment... (abandoning the empire of me spread me out infinitely) The obstacle that is me is no longer obstacle. Space is neither great nor small. This is not exchanging one empire for another, however. This is not a closed infinity. This cool spring midday [...]

Anne Waldman

Par |2015-10-02T14:21:00+01:00mai 3rd, 2009|Textes|

Double Change vous invite à une lecture bilingue de Edith Azam et Anne Waldman mardi 4 mai 2010 à 19h au Point Ephémère 200 Quai de Valmy 75010 Paris Entrée libre Poète, performer, activiste, Anne Waldman a co-fondé en 1974 The Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics avec Allen Ginsberg à Naropa University, où elle [...]

Nathaniel Dorsky

Par |2017-04-04T06:58:21+01:00mai 3rd, 2009|Poésie|

May 5, 19h, Centre Pompidou, three short films by American experimental filmmaker Nathaniel Dorsky: Song and Solitude (2005-2006), Threnody (2004), The Visitation (2002) May 12, 19h, Centre Pompidou, four short films by American experimental filmmaker Nathaniel Dorsky: Sarabande (2008), Compline (2009), Aubade (2010), Winter (2008) Long a figure of interest to many contemporary American poets, [...]

avril 2009

The hand that can’t be told

Par |2017-04-04T06:58:21+01:00avril 30th, 2009|Textes|

Recall a verse from a song from childhood, what used to be called a "negro" spiritual: He's got the whole world in his hand... And then of course there's the grain of sand in the palm of, and the universe, and I wanna hold your..., and Maradona's Hand of God, etc. Tonight, in images on [...]

May retreat

Par |2015-10-12T16:20:12+01:00avril 29th, 2009|Textes|

Il reste quelques places pour la retraite Wild Flower du 21 au 24 mai en normandie. (There are a few places left for the May 21-24 Wild Flower retreat in Normandy.) Infos et inscription/registration: zenscribe@free.fr

The End of the World as I Know It

Par |2009-04-28T18:43:35+01:00avril 28th, 2009|Poésie|

It's the end of the world as I know it at The front door in white pellets on the walk The constant disappearance of everything I know Stones the size of a clamor melt the roof Suddenly there's this hail of hail and then Suddenly this not-hail hailing the il n'y plus rattle of hail [...]

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