A fabulous, marvelous, splendidly curvaceous spring day and I can’t remember what caught my attention in the paper this morning, early, over weak green tea. I recall the birdsong, though, and the clear sunlight with specks of the world in the rays.
I remember now. That’s what Hugo said about glory: It is sun and dust. Which is what I read in the paper, someone citing that as a definition of cinema and the Cannes festival, shimmering on and on: Between the projector and the screen, we always see dust.
That’s the world, too. Every moment is thus.
The sun is in the dust, the dust is in the sun. Right in the middle of all this ado – not beyond, not behind, not below – but right here and now. Right here at the desk, my eyes on the wall pinned with reminders of those who seek/sought what I seek, fellow artist-trippers on this way of sun and dust.
This way of sun and dust
About the Author: zenscribe
Enseignante Zen et poète, Sensei Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell est née et a grandi à Minneapolis, aux Etats-Unis. Arrivée en France en 1981 pour étudier la littérature et l’histoire, elle y est restée, s’installant à Paris, où elle élève ses deux enfants et gagne sa vie en tant que journaliste.
The Zen teacher and poet Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell Sensei was born and raised in Minneapolis, but came to France in 1981 to study literature and history and has lived in Paris ever since, raising her two children and making a living as a journalist.
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