From Taoism

“Blurtso forgets to remember”

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I wish I could remember, said Blurtso, trying to remember what it was he wanted to remember. It must be here somewhere, in my brain, ears, eyes, hoofs, or smell. It must be something important. Blurtso looked at the grass in front of his nose and took a bite. Mmmm, he thought, remembering how good grass tastes in the early morning on a spring day. Mmmm, he thought, taking another bite and forgetting that he was trying to remember. Now I remember! he said, running off to meet the others who had remembered to remember.

“Bonny and Ditto share some quality time” (XVII)

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The art of painting, said Bonny, is to capture one of life’s moments on canvas. The art of living is to let those moments go.

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Excellent!

“Ditto thinks of a leaf”

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Hmmm, thought Ditto, would you look at that… a leaf caught in the stream. Wavering on the water, pushed against a stone. It’s a dry leaf, yellow and crinkly. I wonder how long it will remain here, softly battering the stone? I wonder what will become of it when I’m gone? I wonder if it will miss me? I wonder if I will think of it at night when I’m home? I wonder if it will still be here, softly battering the stone?

“Blurtso slips into stone”

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Watch Blurtso slip into stone on Youtube

Into stone people come and go, slaves of Michelangelo…
Artist carved a brand new beauty, polished it and made it clean,
but now the stones are rough and the artist’s dust
and the statue’s going home, slipping back, slipping into stone.

Into stone people come and go, slaves of Michelangelo…
Mommy has a brand new baby, dress him up and keep him clean,
but the years will reach him, and time will teach him,
tear him down ‘fore he’s full grown, leaving him slipping into stone.

Into stone people come and go, slaves of Michelangelo…
So you think you’re doing fine, think that you have got it made,
but the music’s slowing, you can hear it going,
like a long forgotten poem, like the faces in the foam,
and all the places you’ve ever known, they’re slipping into stone.

Into stone people come and go, slaves of Michelangelo…
You can’t run, you can’t hide, doesn’t matter
if you’re nice or if you’re mean, midnight walking,
all-night talking, there ain’t no stopping going home,
‘cause you and me, we’re slipping, slipping into stone.

“Because I love you”

I was translating a Pablo Neruda poem yesterday, said Pablo, and I made a song out of my translation. I think you’ll like it. Give me a 4/4 rhythm with a syncopated beat…

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I love you because I love you, then I don’t love you,
and I go from love to hate and to fire from cold,
and when one day my heart stops loving you,
then you’ll know I love you even more,
then you’ll know I love you even more.

I love you because I love you, then I still love you,
then I hate, but can’t hate what I adore,
and I love you when I’m not seeing you,
and when I see you then I love you even more,
and when I see you then I love you even more.

Maybe your fire will consume me,
and take this pain of love away,
and maybe one day I’ll finally find peace,
and never find any peace again,
and never find any peace again.

In this story I’m the only one who dies,
and I go from life to death and back once more,
but I hope you won’t forget to remember me,
the one who died of love and loved you even more,
the one who died of love and loved you even more.

Maybe this fire will consume me,
and take this pain of love away,
but I hope you won’t forget to remember me,
the one who died of love and loved you even more,
the one who died of love and loved you even more.

listen to “Because I love you”