mid-summer:
a stream trickles through boulders
once dragged by floods.
Bed of Boulders [Haiku]
2
DAILY PHOTO: Geumgangam Hermitage
Image
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BOOK: “Ma” ed. by Ken Rodgers & John Einarsen
Ma: The Japanese Secret to Contemplation and Calm: An Invitation to Awareness by Ken RodgersMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Publisher Site – Tuttle
Release date: October 27, 2025
My introduction to the concept of ma came as a young martial arts student, where it was thought of as distancing, but not distancing in a static sense — rather in a way that incorporated timing as well [so, more of an interval in space-time.] I would later hear the term applied to domains such as joke telling in which perfection of pause could be as critical to a laugh as the words that comprised the joke. This book expanded my understanding to numerous realms I’d never much considered before such as architecture, photography, and gardening. (Incidentally, this book does contain a chapter addressing the martial arts aspect of ma, though not the comedic ramifications of the concept.)
I haven’t seen any other books that focus entirely on this concept. Ma is often mentioned in books on Japanese philosophy and aesthetics but rarely with such depth and singular attention. If there are other books that drill down into the concept in this way, I doubt they are as readable as this one (that is, I suspect such a book would be intensely philosophic and scholarly.) So, this book seems to have a solid niche.
There were a couple chapters that took my thinking on the subject to entirely new places. One was on ma in the domain of virtual reality. This raised interesting metaphysical considerations. Another was about the Heart Sutra and how the translations used have led to longstanding misunderstandings of that work.
If you are interested in art and or philosophy, I’d highly recommend this book.
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“Hoar-Frost” by Amy Lowell [w/ Audio]
In the cloud-grey mornings
I heard the herons flying;
And when I came into my garden,
My silken outer-garment
Trailed over withered leaves.
A dried leaf crumbles at a touch,
But I have seen many Autumns
With herons blowing like smoke
Across the sky.
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PROMPT: Listen
I don’t. I could listen to instrumental music while writing or doing other mental work, but I can’t have anything with words / lyrics involved. It’s distracting and can warp my writing.
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DAILY PHOTO: Bronze Guardian Lion
“Autumn Moon” [秋月] by Cheng Hao [程颢] [w/ Audio]
A clear stream passes by the
mountain clad in green;
The clear sky and clear water
melt in autumn hue.
Far far away from the tumultuous
world unclean,
Long long will white clouds and
red leaves be friend to you.
Note: This is the joint translation of Xu Yuanchong and Xu Ming found in the edition of Golden Treasury of Quatrains and Octaves on which they collaborated (i.e. China Publishing Group: Beijing (2008) p. 64.)
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PROMPT: Comfort Food
It depends on where I am. I recently discovered that my Busan comfort food is “Hotteok with seeds.” In Central Asia, it’s tandoor bread — by whatever name it’s called in the local tongue. In Tblisi, it’s khinkali. In Peru, a lomo saltado is a beautiful thing. Chicago is the only place I’ll eat a hotdog, but I do love one there.
As a traveler, I find it’s important to not get attached to any one thing. If you crave a bagel, you’re great if you’re in New York or Tel Aviv, but if you insist on one in Hyderabad, it will be a sad experience. But, by the same token, if you order Chicken Biryani in Des Moines, expect to be underwhelmed (or — if not — to pay an exorbitant amount, either way it’s depressing.)
Probably the single most widespread comfort food would be whatever the local dumpling is, be it called mo-mo, khinkali, pierogi, dim sum, etc. All quite unique, but with an underlying familiarity.
So, in the immortal words of (the apparently quite slutty) Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, “If you can’t be with the one you love… love the one you’re with.”
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DAILY PHOTO: Seoul by Night
“Adieu, Adieu! My Native Shore” by Lord Byron [w/ Audio]
Adieu, adieu! my native shore
Fades o'ver the waters blue;
The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar,
And shrieks the wild sea-mew.
Yon sun that sets upon the sea
We follow in his flight;
Farewell awhile to him and thee,
My native Land-Good Night!
A few short hours, and he will rise
To give the morrow birth;
And I shall hail the main and skies,
But not my mother earth.
Deserted is my own good hall,
Its hearth is desolate;
Wild weeds are gathering on the wall;
My dog howls at the gate.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 