The Western mind is distracted by eternity, which we mistakenly define as endless time. Literally, eternity (L. aeternus) means no time, timelessness, time as an irrelevant dimension. Even those who do not believe in eternity as a heavenly or hellish afterlife, are still infected by the need to chase after time. We are menaced by the ticking clock or disappearing digits. We dread the end of our personal lifespan. If we could we would keep time in Jim Croce’s bottle.
This fear of time impairs our ability to be present. Our awareness is haunted with time coming, time already gone. Our focus blurred by our ride on the rush of time. As the Buddha taught, the nature of reality is impermanence. As Heraclitus wrote 2500 years ago: panta rhei – everything flows. Life is ephemeral, transitory, the passingness of all things. What will be slowly becomes what is then quickly becomes what was.
Japanese haiku and tanka are poetic forms that slow the rush of time and demand that our attention be lavished on the present experience. Playing with these brief compressed forms helps develop our powers of focus and perception so that we can appreciate and articulate the moment in all its complexity. Choosing to limit oneself to so few lines and syllables is a discipline that can counter our addiction to more and our fear of less.
Do not write a poem. Capture a moment rich with emotional and pictorial detail. See how much of the essence of the experience you can express in words. Don’t worry about the syllable count. The important thing is to retrieve he experience in language. Give it as a gift to yourself. You might want to give it to someone else.
Even if you don’t get the container right, you can take pleasure in the content
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I chop three onions
my vision blurred by tears
I blame the onions
even though the world’s harsh news
bleeds through my broken window
2016