ZEN MESTEREK ZEN MASTERS
« Zen főoldal
« vissza a Terebess Online nyitólapjára
Richard von Sturmer (1957-)
 Tartalom |
 Contents |
Haikui angolul és magyarul |
Book of Equanimity Verses PDF: On the Eve of Never Departing PDF: Turning Toasters into Toasters and Teacups into Teacups:
|
Richard von Sturmer was born in Auckland in 1957. Throughout the 1980s he worked as a writer, performer, and film-maker, and continued to write in the 1990s in between extended periods of training at the Rochester Zen Center. During his time at the Zen Center he edited Zen Bow , the Center's quarterly publication, acted as Roshi Kjolhede's secretary, and organized ceremonies and other events. He completed his formal koan training under Roshi Kjolhede at the end of 2002, and returned to New Zealand the following year. Many of the pieces in Richard's book, Suchness: Zen Poetry and Prose (Headworx 2005), were inspired by his time in training at the Rochester Zen Center. His other books are: We Xerox Your Zebras (Modern House, 1988), A Network of Dissolving Threads (Auckland University Press, 1991), Images From The Center, a collaboration with photographer Joseph Sorrentino (Rochester Zen Center, 1998), and On the Eve of Never Departing (Titus Books 2009).
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_von_Sturmer
http://contemporaryhaibunonline.com/ahhv1/von_Sturmer.html
https://www.thebigidea.nz/node/175477
Von Sturmer, Richard. Selected Bibliography
Songs of the Plague. Auckland, NZ: The Plague, 1978.
On the Eve of Never Departing. Auckland, NZ: Titus Books, 2009.
A Network of Dissolving Threads. Auckland, NZ: Auckland University Press, 1991. 136 p.
Book of Equanimity Verses. Auckland, NZ: Puriri Press, 2013. 57 p. (+10 unnumbered pages of colour plates)
Inspired by The Book of Equanimity, a Zen Buddhist collection of one hundred koans. Selected sample verses:
1.
The sound of a mallet
striking a block --
does this split in tow
your hard-fought serenity?
When no one is there
to oberser them
hermit crabs traverse
the bottom of a rock pool.2.
One giant silverfish
eats through the ancestral library.
His royal highness turns
pages in his sleep—
translucent pages
sparking with dust motes.
But in the end he fails to find
a single word.3.
Another king requests
an uplifting sermon
only to receive
a blast of arctic wind.
As it's getting late
I should go to bed.
Please turn off the lights
when you leave the treasure house.4.
Weeds grow
through cracks in the concrete.
A church was built
over a temple
which in turn was built
over an ancient burial ground.
And still weeds grow
through cracks in the concrete.5.
Washing his hands
in the mouth
of a famished lion
he forgot
the bowl of fragrant rice
his grandmother left for him
on a wooden table
one summer long ago.6.
The willows tell you everything
when their branches move
in the breeze.
But hurrying from place to place
with a small octopus
in each coat pocket
you want the answers written down
in blood as well as ink.7.
Pre-dawn cold
a time of darkness
when the dying die
and frost forms
on the autumn grass.
There's no need to declare
how old one has become --
every bone confirms this.8.
My five hundred
joyful years
spent as a fox
were interrupted
by bulldozers.
Now a russet harvest moon
rises above
the endless fields of wheat.9.
The President
of the United States
sits in his tent
skinning a mouse.
He doesn't spare a thought
for the ghosts
of those big game animals
gathered outside.10.
When the Castle of Desire
finally crumbles
a forgotten road
takes you into the mountains.
Don't bother to look back
as you begin to ascend:
the tea houses are vacant
the border post deserted.12.
Taking two slices of toast
out of the toaster,
getting my father-in-law
who has Parkinson's
his morning pills—
the world begins again
with clear sunlight
and ants on the kitchen bench.13.
At that unexpected shout
the light bulb cracked
and flakes of plaster
fell from the ceiling.
Now the whiskey drinkers
rub the stubble on their chins
and eyeball each other
over their empty glasses.14.
Lying on her back
in the great ocean
she raises her legs
and walks across the sky.
Friends on the shore
try to attract her attention
with all sorts of antics,
but she's there and not there.15.
Although one sound
penetrates three worlds
it's not advisable
to start a meditation centre
next door to a restaurant.
You'll only end up
chopping carrots
and washing piles of dishes.16.
In a dream I ask
why there has to be
a vertical hierarchy
from ants to clouds,
and why, in the general
scheme of things,
a pebble should be right
and a wheelbarrow wrong.18.
A boneless bone
lies outside
the gateless gate.
Zhaozhou's dog
must have let it there.
What a bad dog!
Philosophers gather
inside a thimble.20.
He doffed his hat
to the lofty poplar.
(Not knowing
is most intimate.)
The poplar nodded back.
And with that
the afternoon faded
into evening.21.
Sweeping darkness
into a corner
only makes the room
unbearably bright.
Better for the defilements
to be left undisturbed.
Let them glow like embers
drift away like ash.22
The upper hand
lies forgotten
in a bottom drawer.
The lower hand is lost
gathering dust
somewhere in a basement.
Now that all conflict has ended
the roof tiles reflect the moonlight.23.
One doesn't confide
about the atmosphere --
either it's completely clear
or your'e stumbling in a fog.
Old Luzu remains silent
wrapped in an iron raincoat.
Strike him on the back
and he won't move an inch.24.
Poison gets rid of poison.
If you ask me how I'm going
I'll tell you:
"Just slithering along."
Down the mountain path
the autumn leaves
display their scales
of orange and scarlet and bronze.25.
The rhinoceros
is not a rowdy beast.
His armour forms his intelligence.
We, on the other hand,
stand perplexed
unable to work out
where the rain of acorns
is coming from.26.
A cloud penis enters
a cloud vagina.
For those who desire
the pure sky
it's a disappointment.
Showers are forecast.
The old woman from Tinopai
walks across the mudflats.27.
Edison's last breath
kept is a glass jar
then let out
ahhhhh …
eighty years later
ahhhhh …
and the stars still shine
above New Jersey.28.
When the ice melted
the body fell to the floor.
He looked so good
suspended in that block
of coldness.
What a shame
his faithful servant
left open the freezer door.30.
Edison's last breath
kept is a glass jar
then let out
ahhhhh . . .
eighty years later
ahhhhh . . .
and the stars still shine
above New Jersey.31.
It's in the space between
the pillar and the lattice windows.
It's drawn to scale
by a blind person in a dream.
Look—when the kingfisher flies
into a phoenix palm
all the colours of the Nile
carry you across the evening sky.32.
Mind and environment --
the deck shuffled so fast
everything is a blur.
Environment and mind --
each card carefully placed
face up on the table:
wood . . . cup . . . kettle
lamp . . . chair . . . door.33.
As you take your leave
everything waves goodbye --
the towels on the towel rack
the curtains, even the doormat.
Closing the front gate
the house is lighter without you.
All echoes and flashes of gold
beneath the autumn clouds.35.
The baboon can't hide
his red behind.
But why should he?
The savanna is vast.
As you strain to defend
your good name
beads of sweat
gather on your forehead.36.
Chekov's body travelled
all the way to Moscow
in a carriage of frozen oysters.
It was midsummer,
and the great boreal forests
of spruce and pine
formed wave after wave
of shimmering green.37.
What is it?
Half light,
half dark.
Seeming to be there,
seeming to be absent.
The gunmetal glint
of awareness lost
in a flock of seagulls.38.
Although they shaved off
Hitler's moustache
and gave Chairman Mao
breasts and a facelift,
the dead still recognized
their former oppressors
and call out their names
down the streets of the afterlife.39.
Without curtains
you wake up at sunrise.
Now make your bed
wash your bowl
feed the cat
tie your laces --
the list is never ending
a lifetime of details.40.
An assemblage of African
and Egyptian figurines
stands on Freud's desk
facing his empty chair.
Ash from a final cigar
quivers in the ashtray.
The appointment book is closed.
No footsteps in the hallway.41.
The Master has made his exit.
It's a rough, tough,
unsophisticated old world.
The demons can be charmed
only for so long. And then?
Once more into the rapids
with a heavy pile of clouds
in the back of the canoe.
42.Salmon are swimming upstream.
No one can stop them
or turn them around.
Although magnetic by nature
(a metal teapot
glides across the table),
somehow we've drifted away
from our original home.43.
Where do thoughts come from?
Follow that thought
for half a lifetime
through pain and loss
until one day
the thought vanishes
and there's no thinker to be found
in the entire universe.45.
Painting eyebrows on chaos,
giving emptiness
a little dab of rouge --
at the bewitching hour
a skeleton descends
the long staircase
her glass handbag
filled with fishhooks.47.
Sometimes the paths are gold
and the hills are green.
Other times the sea is green
and the clouds are gold.
Small figures are riding horses,
carrying palanquins, rowing boats.
When an ox cart enters the courtyard
sparrows fly out of the cypress trees.48.
The old temple bell
absorbs the heat
of a summer's afternoon.
Its bell-beam has become
a resting place
for dragonflies.
The valley below is at peace.
Each stone contains a stone.49.
Strong fingers
mould your features --
eye sockets formed
by the pressure of thumbs,
a mouth pulled open
for the first deep breath.
Who? . . . Who? You ask.
But the hands have gone.50.
Just this
unwillingness
to be anything more
than the closing of the day.
And people on the street
are standing so still
their bodies outlined
in the last of the light.52.
The donkey looks at the well.
A bank of nasturtiums.
The well looks at the donkey.
A field of violets.
It's mid-summer
and by the slowly moving river
blackberries are ripening
lobe by lobe.
53.
When the ancient scholar
retires for the night
rats come out
and eat his manuscript.
The most demanding passages—
those he had to write and rewrite
are also the most
difficult to digest.
54.
I divide my time
between High Street
and the Tang Dynasty.
This afternoon
half asleep
from one glass of wine
I allow a red bus to take me
down the road to Changan.55.
Just like a raft
sparkling with phosphorus
the middle word came
in the middle of the night.
All poetry and prose
unfolded from then on.
But the darkness kept to itself
the first word (and the last).56.
The original earthquake
separated heaven from earth
Men and gods could no longer
ascend and descend
as had been their pleasure.
In the silence that followed
gibbons swung from trees
at the bottom of a gorge.57.
The Duke of Pristinia
was born with white veins.
He had an aversion
to direct sunlight
and once buried a monogrammed
handkerchief deep in the forest.
(They said it was stained
with a single drop of blood.)58.
Jean Cocteau
suffered from
a mysterious skin disease
while filming
Beauty and the Beast.
For several weeks
the loveliest of fairytales
disfigured its creator.60.
Five colored balls dance
behind a silk curtain --
treasure for the hungry ghosts.
Look away, look away.
As the rain begins to fall
a black Labrador
is eating crab apples
in a neighbor's back garden.61.
You've run through
all your transformations
so many times
there's nothing left to transform.
Just a half-empty
salt shaker
sitting on the table
of a midnight diner.62.
The adept and the inept --
Two tadpoles swimming
in the same pond.
When winter arrives
and ice forms
like white jade
I can't help but wonder
where the frogs have gone.63.
Of course you lose your life.
They paint the walls
after your departure,
place ancient artifacts
into cardboard boxes.
Someday, if you do return
it will be a different season,
and you'll enter by a different door.67.
Along the retaining wall
each stone gives its warmth
back to the sunlight.
Nothing can go wrong today --
absolutely nothing!
A blackbird
feels the worms move
beneath its feet.68.
A cloud of words
is just that --
a cloud of words.
Looking around
for a suitable rock
to drive in the tent pegs,
dust has settled
on the burnished plain.69.
In the city of Medina
Muhammad allowed his camel
to choose his future home.
Animals know intimately
what the wise fail to understand.
And yet their cries continue
from the holding pens
and the slaughter house.72.
After the last snow
has departed
for the year
a thrush taps on the panes of glass.
It's wake up time
in the nursery
of fern shoots.75.
I have no idea
how many times I've changed
my mind with a mind
determined not to change.
Everything remains
under consideration
from cracks in the asphalt
to the Andromeda Galaxy.77.
The great iron wheel of karma
came to a stop
and sank into the sand.
The military organized
a platoon of engineers
armed with spades and shovels.
And the great iron wheel of karma
was set in motion again.79.
Halfway up the sky
climbing a wax ladder
the rungs begin to melt,
and he finds himself
suspended
like Wile E. Coyote
in the blue
in the immense blue.83.
The old surgeon has difficulty
opening the honey pot.
He coughs -- a cough
that could belong
to no one else.
then the toast pops
and he pours himself
a cup of tea.84.
Now, what about that finger,
the one that points
the one that presses buttons
and scratches earlobes?
Transcending the hand
it travels to the moon.
Kraaark -- the cry of a heron
cuts across the lake.85.
On a hot day
in midsummer
when the concrete boat
docked at Onehunga Wharf
Jellicoe Park fountain
came to life
and walked up the hill
on its pale blue legs.86.
You're already falling into the wind
like Buster Keaton,
or being battered about
by oversized boxing gloves.
A hurricane removes
the roof of your house.
A cannon ball rolls
down a long staircase.87.
The great dark helium balloon
burst into a thousand starlings
that rose and fell
in wild, magnetic patterns
over the mangrove forest.
Between the aerial roots
laughter could be heard
carried in by the evening tide.88.
At the end of the peninsula
an aboriginal boy
nicknamed "Midnight"
had from the European children
among the sand dunes.
For years no one remembered him
out there with the spinifex
and the cries of gulls.89.
After wandering over burnt-out fields
you find the house is carpeted
with abundant grass:
lemon grass, sea grass, wheat grass
their blades sprouting from
cushions and window ledges.
(When the green curtains are drawn
you lie down in a green shade.)90.
In the dream before grandparents
there is a forest of elders
under overcast skies --
lean, flinty men carrying
mattocks across their shoulders
and women in dresses
the colour of hydrangeas
and candle flames.91.
In the dream after grandchildren
you simply fall asleep.
Sunlight filters through the oak leaves.
The days and their park benches
are already in place.
And grey, armoured vehicles
patrol the long permimeters
as silent as Persian cats.93.
The manor house
lies in darkness.
A goose rolls
a light bulb
over the front lawn.
We'll part company
by the stone bridge
Each to his own sunrise.94.
My rock skull
resting in the water.
My chipped vertebrae
reflected on the surface.
No one falls ill
in these mountains.
Only an ice-cold river
flowing on and on.95.
It doesn't matter
if you're strong as iron
or meek as a lamb,
the ingredients of your demise
have been cooking for a long time.
Already you wear
a charcoal necktie
and a halo of small blue flames.96.
The wasp in the incense pot
needs to be rescued.
It's dusty, perfumed
and near the end of its lifespan.
Raising a latch
and opening a window,
the sound of rush-hour traffic
fills the empty room.97.
Geronimo surrendered
to the U.S. army
at Skeleton Canyon.
(So many had died
in the mountains.)
As an old man he sold
photographs of himself
for 25 cents each.98.
There are eyes
at the back of a cave
watching the horizon,
and ears in a rock pool
listening to the flicker
of shrimps
and the click-click
of sea urchins.Missing (still to come): 11, 17, 19, 29, 34, 44, 46, 51, 59, 64, 65, 66, 70, 71, 73, 74, 76, 78, 80, 81, 82, 92, 99, 100.
Suchness: Zen Poetry and Prose. Wellington, NZ: HeadworX, 2005. 151 p.
Introduction -- Zen poetry. Dharma verses. Mumonkan verses. Blue Cliff verses -- Haiku notebooks. Sparrow notebook. Cloud notebook. Snow notebook. Firefly notebook -- Haibun. Winter at Chapin Mill. In transit. Mildness -- Tanka sequences. Gathering clouds. Winter shadows. Barrier crossings -- Prose. Dreams. Realities. Myths. Reflections -- Essays. Working with Nagarjuna. Writing with Issa. Time and light. The Bodhisattvic garden
This explains everything. Pokeno, NZ: Atuanui Press, 2016. 147 p.
Richard von Sturmer is one of New Zealand's most versatile artists. He has written hit pop songs, acted in a famous feature film, made his own movies, published acclaimed books of poetry and prose, and lectured and written about Zen Buddhism. In This Explains Everything von Sturmer reveals some of the origins of his creativity and restlessness by telling the stories of two members of his family. He describes his grandfather Ernest von Sturmer's adventures in Australia's Western Desert, where he tried to make his fortune during the Great Depression by prospecting for minerals. Ernest von Sturmer's near suicidal journeys gave him a reputation: an outback policeman once refused to shake the explorer's hand, for fear that he might be a ghost. Von Sturmer recalls an alternatively idyllic and eerie childhood on Auckland's North Shore, on a strip of half-rural land between the volcanic waters of Lake Pupuke and the Waitemata harbour. Von Sturmer celebrates his father, a man who struggled with guilt and depression, yet also loved to play surreal games and hatch complicated jokes. This Explains Everything ends with a series of poems and song lyrics that bring together many parts of the von Sturmer family story.
Von Sturmer, Richard, and Joseph Sorrentino.
Images from the Center: Daily Life at an American Zen Center. Rochester, NY: Rochester Zen Center, 1998. 68 p."Images from the Center" is the first book of its kind to depict daily life at a Western Zen center. Joseph Sorrentino presents a collection of fifty black and white images that document the Rochester Zen Center, one of the oldest Zen communities in the United States. Accompanying the images is a series of essays on Zen training by Richard von Sturmer. The essays explore such facets of Zen training as the teacher-student relationship, work-practice, and the role of ceremonies. Together, the images and text provide an intimate and comprehensive look as how Zen is practiced in the West.
