The almost infinitesimal trails of thought that flash and flash

Yponomeuta evonymellus

Bird cherry

Bell

Geranium

Field

Red

I went swinning with the daughters today at noon, and it was nice, even though the water is rather cold still. And there were mosquitoes; the youngest daughter got four bites on her skin. But she was happy anyway.

Bird cherry trees are once again plagued by Yponomeuta evonymellus moth larvae. I think this is the third year in the row this has happened in the nearby park. I remember reading that the bird cherry would develop some resistance to the moth, and thus there wouldn't be consecutive years with lots of moths, but that doesn't seem to be the case.

I thought a bit about Zen today, as I got some good comments from a colleague about a book review I wrote on the book Zen in the Art of Archery by Eugen Herrigel. I thought the book was more modest than its reputation, even though the topic of the book is such that it can't be expressed in words.

My colleague recommended reading professor Shoji Yamada's article "The Myth of Zen in the Art of Archery" (Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 2001 28/1–2).

The article tells a story of Herrigel's teacher, Awa Kenzõ, building his own philosophy based on personal spiritual experiences: "he had no experience in Zen nor did he unconditionally approve of Zen". Then arrived Herrigel, who "came to Japan in search of Zen and chose Japanese archery as a method through which to approach it". And finally there was the interpreter, whose "intentionally liberal translations" confused the matter greatly. The result is something which has little to do with Zen and much to do with the "personal desire of Herrigel".

In a previous posting I pointed out several other book with Zen in the title. It seems that the common thing connecting these books is that they have little (if any) to do with Zen. Which may or may not be a good thing.

Anyway, I didn't put the word Zen in the posting title; the title is from the poem Zen Living by Dick Allen.

Serves to advance an honest mind

Roof

Tracks

Birches

Zen in the Art of Archery is a short book written by Eugen Herrigel. I hadn't read it until this week, and was positively surprised. Thanks to Markus for suggesting the book.

Herrigel wrote a modest book, not making any bold claims, but in the modest approach Herrigel stated something which feels deep, beyond words. It is a paradox that this book tells about something that can't be described in words.

Some parts of the book, delving in mystical depths, do not really speak to me, but those parts in which Herrigel describes the practice of archery, the forgetting of the self, those are strong and straight words. And this made me wonder whether photography can work as a practice of Zen - something which I have been thinking once is a while during the last few years. The book The Zen of Creativity: Cultivating Your Artistic Life by John Daido Loori seems to suggest there are ways of seeing.

There are a lot of books with the word Zen in the title, most of the rubbish. But I remembered one which is worth reading, despite the misleading title, namely Ray Bradbury's Zen in the Art of Writing.

Bradbury is one of my all-time favorite authors, and in this book he tells of writing something which is quite profound. However, Bradbury's book doesn't have anything to to with Zen. Or maybe it has...

(Posting title is from the poem Go and catch a falling star by John Donne.)

Confused, instintive

Morning

Roof

Birches

Streetside

Blue

Today was a blurry day, one thing after another. But also a good one: things happened, were understood, got resolved.

I have been reading the book The Zen of Creativity: Cultivating Your Artistic Life by John Daido Loori, in a Finnish translation, of which I wrote some impressions. I have always had some attraction to the zen way of approaching the world, although I have never done any meditative practice. This book cleared some things, but also made some things more muddy. Not bad for a book.

Loori was a photographer who used zen to approach his art, and his art to approach zen. The book was personal, interesting, but also to some degree a bit of a letdown, as I felt a little bit of americanism there, a kind of success-oriented thinking which felt strange in connection with zen.

I have never approached photography in the same way as Loori, from deep meditation, but it is interesting. What I have tried to achive, sometimes, is a sort of instinctive approach, where I use the camera without thinking what I'm doing. But that is not zen.