May 25, 2017 by L.E. Hansen

What We Leave Behind

It seems we don’t know what we leave behind until it is gone. It’s also true that our songwriters, authors, personal diarists, all (if not in a singular voice) tell us that. But we take no notice. Even when we say, yeah, yeah, true, true. The problem, it seems to me, is that we can only take note of the past, our history. From here, from now, from a future projection— is nothing. We don’t know what will fill our memories, fill the file box of wrongs, loss, despair, and joy. Or we may know an example: the dog I love today will leave me to grieve the same as the dogs who have gone before. But we don’t feel it, we don’t know those things inside-out. Our mind observes, undaunted by Truths, only the facts. And so we stumble on, leaving behind the things we will mourn, or forget. And we forget the most important thing that the notetakers don’t tell us to remember. When we leave the old for the new, we need to be sure it is replaced with something of worth.

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May 9, 2017 by L.E. Hansen

Today’s Birthday

Again late, my friends. Apparently I am only able to acknowledge birthdays a day past. Nonetheless, here it is.

Gary Snyder…sometimes called the poet of the earth. Some of his poems transcend, may cause an altered state. A caution might precede the poetry: warning, may cause thinking, even loving.

Beat hero, steward of the earth, Zen Buddhist—in his mid-eighties, poet Gary Snyder looks back on an honorable life at the leading edge.

Gary Snyder. Photo by Festival of Faiths. In Lion’s Roar Buddhist Magazine

I want to share a GS poem with you. Here’s one.

My home was at Cold Mountain from the start,
Rambling among the hills, far from trouble.

Gone, and a million things leave no trace
Loosed, and it flows through the galaxies
A fountain of light, into the very mind—
Not a thing, and yet it appears before me;
Now I know the pearl of the Buddha-nature
Know its use: a boundless perfect sphere.

May 2, 2017 by L.E. Hansen

On The Way (to the bakery)

Or, a cautionary tale of the dangers found in just about anything

I got lost a few times today. More than usual anyway, and have been left wearing a rather strange outfit (for me, at least somewhat). It all started with a hair combing, and why not? Hair is not usually a stopping place near a rabbit hole, but then sooner or later it seems as if anything can be. Hair combing can progress easily to hair chopping (seriously) and then quickly on to a shower which of course means different clothes. And therein lies the rub.

Now settled into a boho-covered sofa, I am wearing a short dress over short denim leggings and a pair of moto boots. Black, of course. Said hair from original detour is sporting purple highlights. The clothes have to do with the moto boots which are all the fault of the doctor. (Sad to say, not the Dr. Who.)

About my doctor: I hurt my knee, then continued to bang it up for quite some time. Ultimately and not long ago I ended up at a doctor’s place of business. Because goals are required almost everywhere and for everything these days, I was asked what my goal was in addressing the seriously compromised knee. Biting my tongue, cheeks, and lips, so as not to say, “um, to use it?” I replied, “So I can wear my cowboy boots again.” Which is true. Cowboy boots, having an angled heel in order to settle the foot nicely in the stirrups, will angle the foot and pitch the ankle forward when walking. The higher the heel, the greater the pitch to the corresponding leg, and the offending knee. Pain results.

Meanwhile, the complaining knee has been slow to respond to treatments. At last review the kindly doctor suggested that it might be a bit longer than anticipated for us to be ready for cowboy boots. Might other boots not do just as nicely? At least for the time being—before the last-resort operation looms ever so brightly in front of me? And then the doctor—he of the moto-boot fame—went on to suggest that even motorcycle boots could work.

And they do. Motorcycle boots, aka moto boots, fit nicely and move along a flat plane, regardless of the heel height. So that’s the way things are now. And why I am wearing moto boots and have my purple highlighted hair chopped short. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Whatever. Things I don’t have: more writing done on the newest novel, advertising for The Fat Man set up, piano practiced, etc., etc., etc. But here are the boots!

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April 28, 2017 by L.E. Hansen

The Fat Man

The Fat Man has been reduced on Amazon.com. It can now be purchased for $16.97! If you haven’t yet gotten the book, now is the time.

I’m working on getting the price reduced on Barnes & Noble, so that should be appearing soon also.

Meanwhile, here you go!

April 23, 2017 by L.E. Hansen

The Locust, Butterflies, and Birth

Inspired by the Caterpillars Don’t Become Butterflies post from Mitch Teemly, I went back into the archives to find this series of beauties from 2009. These photos were sent to me by Tara Pohl. A friend of hers (nameless? credit?) had taken them while she was living in Ohio and I in Colorado. This is the kind of thing that still gives me chills. Or as my son used to say, skin shivers. And boy would he have loved this. His birthday is tomorrow. Happy Birthday, Joel. I hope you, like the Butterfly & the Locust, have completed your metamorphosis into the splendor of the Universe. I love you. I miss you.

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8234_127902257613_707017613_2184689_1531873_n[1] The Locust (Ohio)

I love this little guy, struggling so to become what he already is. 8234_127902252613_707017613_2184688_7358874_n[1] 8234_127902267613_707017613_2184691_5343028_n[1]