Freedome without Desire

Aiki is the fiber that links everything—not just man—together in Love. The origin of the Bu of Japan is love. Everything in this world is given shape according to Love. Science and culture, likewise, stem from the great spirit of Love. Positioned between Heaven and Earth, Man uses this strand in this world to aid him down the Way of Creation. O'Sensei Ueshiba Memoires

Memento for Myself- How to Handle Rebelious Attitudes

I think this is a rather good argument you can bring up when your teenage kid is rebelling against you. Doing exactly the opposite of what you are told to do, is not exactly freedom...it is just the illusion of freedom.

Ce spui dupa buna ziua- Eric Berne Ch. 7 p. 167

 

The Revelation of the Emptiness!

It is after reading a book about the tea ceremony that I understand what Mayazumi Madoca wanted to say in the quote I posted previously.
The pot is useful because of the empty space which can hold almost anything. A good haiku should also have this virtue of hosting in its hollowness.

Fiinte uimitoare...

Ce se va intampla cand va deveni [ADN-ul] si mai delicat in reactii, nici unul dintre noi, cei care traim acum, nu va afla vreodata, dar candva, descendentii nostri vor fi niste fiinte uimitoare, pe care acum doar poetii si le pot
imagina, desi nici ei prea clar. -  Eric Berne, Ce spui dupa ce spui "Buna ziua"?

(H)aijin

Ecrire des haïkus n’est pas développer sa pensée, mais se taire. C’est dans le silence qu’est le haïku.

Mayuzumi Madoka

Let's be happy!

happiness
putting on her masque
they change places
 

A Japán Alapítvány Budapesti Japán Kulturális Központ Magyar Nyelvű Haiku pályázata

Erre a pályázatra kezdtem írni haikukat, csak például ez nem passzolt bele a téma miatt:

Lombtalan fák mentén
Hűvös reggel ágaskodom
Recsegés, ropogás

Pedig nekem eléggé a szívemhez nőtt.
Ezért itt értékesítem és haikuról olvasgatok, hátha jobbakat tudok majd írni a pályázatra.

Contests

I never seem to win any writing contest... ever.
This stopped me from writing for a while, but just now I figured: who cares!
My entry text was my earlier blog post: Ki
You can read the winner Acrostics here
Usually I am one of the persons they also thank for submitting their work, somewhere on the bottom of the page. But this time not even that.That is not an obstacle any more, though. I have changed and the way I see my writing is slowly changing also.
I have a text in mind about dermatography. I might start writing it today.

Ki

                                       Putting my words in this order

Restricts the natural flow of thoughts

Ornaments the page with it’s slain and disgraced twigs

Chopped and turned into a bonsai.

Unless you believe that tray planting your spirit makes it grow more harmoniously

Such crime should never be done

To those latent marvels

Reading while Writing

When I was a teenager, I wrote a lot of crap. I just went on and on and wrote.
Then I had a period when I got unsure about it, and had to find motivation.
I read somewhere, I think it was an idea Proust's that there are two things that can motivate him to write: either a really good novel that makes a great impression on him or a really bad one that he feels he can top.
For a long time, I thought just the same was applicable to me, too.
I was writing because I read a lot, and my texts were a filtration (or is it better to say a collage?) of what I read.
It was like the image my high school sweetheart told me he continuously dram about: he saw himself writing at a table but in fact reading while writing.

For a long time I have just written short prose. A lot of recycled techniques were used there that I picked up here and there.
I also had a Latin American summer, when I was a small Borges wannabe.

After a while, when I thought writing was too fatiguing, I just stopped.
I felt it brought me nothing good, nothing but the sense of frustration.


Then I found the third way that can motivate me. Reading about how others experience the writing process.
When reading Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running I was faced with the obvious fact I knew in the back of my mind, but was too stupid to admit:

Fortunately, these two disciplines—focus and endurance—are
different from talent, since they can be acquired and sharpened
through training. You’ll naturally learn both concentration and
endurance when you sit down every day at your desk and train
yourself to focus on one point. This is a lot like the training of
muscles I wrote of a moment ago. You have to continually
transmit the object of your focus to your entire body, and make
sure it thoroughly assimilates the information necessary for you
to write every single day and concentrate on the work at hand.
And gradually you’ll expand the limits of what you’re able to do.
Almost imperceptibly you’ll make the bar rise. This involves the
same process as jogging every day to strengthen your muscles
and develop a runner’s physique. Add a stimulus and keep it up.
And repeat. Patience is a must in this process, but I guarantee the
results will come.

The idea of getting back again and again to the same text gave me nausea. Many times I ended up hating my texts, being nervous and lacking enthusiasm. There is no need to undergo this torture and continually block your writing and questioning if you have talent. I might as well write a number of bad texts, to train. I cannot run the ultra marathon without training.

And maybe one day I will be meditatively running at peace with myself, thorough the Natural Flower Garden on the long, long peninsula of a novel that I have finally accomplished.

雨

"Who can really distinguish between the sea and what's reflected in it? Or tell the difference between the falling rain and loneliness?"

Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

Memories

What happens to my memories
left on the dirty shelves of the past?
Do they seem brighter in contrast?

O'Sensei

Haiku de la mordernité

La beauté cassante des ombres
sur le vert froid des murs

Ryuichi Sakamoto

WTF did the Teacher Say???

The Lisabon Treaty

Sony Vaio Haikus

In Japan, Sony Vaio machines have replaced the impersonal and unhelpful Microsoft error messages with their own Japanese haiku poetry.

Windows NT crashed.
I am the Blue Screen of Death.
No one hears your screams.


With searching comes loss
and the presence of absence:
"My Novel" not found.

Serious error.
All shortcuts have disappeared.
Screen. Mind. Both are blank.

A file that big?
It might be very useful.
But now it is gone.

First snow, then silence.
This thousand dollar screen dies
so beautifully.

Tumbalalaika

Original lyrics in Yiddish

שטײט אַ בחור און ער טראַכט,
(או: שטײט אַ בחור, שטײט און טראַכט)
טראַכט און טראַכט אַ גאַנצע נאַכט:
וועמען צו נעמען און ניט פֿאַרשעמען,
וועמען צו נעמען און ניט פֿאַרשעמען?

טום־באַלאַ, טום־באַלאַ, טום־באַלאַלײַקע
טום־באַלאַ, טום־באַלאַ, טום־באַלאַלײַקע
טום־באַלאַלײַקע, שפּיל באַלאַלײַקע,
טום־באַלאַלײַקע, פֿריילעך זאָל זײַן!
(או: שפּיל באַלאַלײַקע, פֿריילעך זאָל זײַן!)

מיידל, מיידל, כ'וויל בײַ דיר פֿרעגן:
וואָס קאַן וואַקסן, וואַקסן און רעגן?
וואָס קאַן ברענען און ניט אויפֿהערן?
וואָס קאַן בענקען, וויינען און טרערן?

טום־באַלאַלײַ, טום־באַלאַלײַ...

נאַרישער בחור, וואָס דאַרפֿסטו פֿרעגן?
אַ שטיין קאַן וואַקסן, וואַקסן אָן רעגן,
ליבע קאַן ברענען און ניט אויפֿהערן,
אַ האַרץ קאַן בענקען, וויינען און טרערן!

טום־באַלאַלײַ, טום־באַלאַלײַ...

וואָס איז העכער פֿון אַ הויז?
וואָס איז פֿלינקער פֿון אַ מויז?
וואָס איז טיפֿער פֿון אַ קוואַל?
וואָס איז ביטער, ביטערער וי גאַל?

טום־באַלאַלײַ, טום־באַלאַלײַ...

אַ קוימען איז העכער פֿון אַ הויז,
אַ קאַץ איז פֿלינקער פֿון אַ מויז,
די תּורה איז טיפֿער פֿון אַ קוואַל,
דער טויט איז ביטער, ביטערער וי גאַל!

טום־באַלאַלײַ, טום־באַלאַלײַ...


Transliteration

Shteyt a bokher, un er trakht (also shteyt un trakht)
Trakht un trakht a gantse nakht
Vemen tzu nemen un nisht farshemen
Vemen tzu nemen un nisht farshemen

((chorus))
Tumbala, Tumbala, Tumbalalaika
Tumbala, Tumbala, Tumbalalaika
Tumbalalaika, shpil balalaika
Tumbalalaika (also Shpil balalaika), freylekh zol zayn

Meydl, meydl, kh'vil bay dir fregn,
Vos ken vaksn, vaksn on regn?
Vos ken brenen un nit oyfhern?
Vos ken benken, veynen on trern?

((chorus))

Narisher bokher, vos darfstu fregn?
A shteyn ken vaksn, vaksn on regn.
Libe ken brenen un nit oyfhern.
A harts ken benken, veynen on trern.

((chorus))

Vos iz hekher fun a hoyz?
Vos iz flinker fun a moyz?
Vos iz tifer fun a kval?
Vos iz biter, biterer vi gal?

((chorus))

A koymen iz hekher fun a hoyz.
A kats iz flinker fun a moyz.
Di toyre iz tifer fun a kval.
Der toyt iz biter, biterer vi gal.

((chorus))


Translation:

A young lad stands, and he thinks
Thinks and thinks a whole night
Whom to take and not to shame
Whom to take and not to shame


Tumbala, Tumbala, Tumbalalaika
Tumbala, Tumbala, Tumbalalaika
Tumbalalaika, strum balalaika
Tumbalalaika, may we be happy

Girl, girl, I want to ask of you
What can grow, grow without rain?
What can burn and never end?
What can yearn, cry without tears?


Foolish lad, why do you have to ask?
A stone can grow, grow without rain
Love can burn and never end
A heart can yearn, cry without tears

What is higher than a house?
What is swifter than a mouse?
What is deeper than a well?
What is bitter, more bitter than gall?

A chimney is higher than a house
A cat is swifter than a mouse
The Torah is deeper than a well
Death is bitter, more bitter than gall

Tumbalalaika gained much popularity in Israel's beginnings, where a part in Hebrew was added:

Ma oseh oseh hehalutz
Kshehu ba, hu ba lakibbutz
Ba lakibbutz rotzeh le'ekhol
Ro'eh bahura shokhe'ah hakol

It says: What does the pioneer do when he arrives at the kibbutz? He is hungry and wants to eat, but when he sees a girl he forgets everything.

にわにわにわにわにわ

Funniest sentence ever:





にわ に は に わ に は に わ にわとり が いる 。

There are two chickens in the garden.