Showing posts with label Franz Kafka. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Franz Kafka. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Trees and Roots

For we are like tree trunks in the snow. In appearance they lie sleekly and a little push should be enough to set them rolling. No, it can't be done, for they are firmly wedded to the ground. But see, even that is only appearance.
Franz Kafka (totally stolen from Kim’s blog, where part of this post started out as a comment, as well) (and, actually, now that I think of it, another part came from a comment, which I saved, left on somebody else’s blog a long time ago, though I don’t remember what blog it was) (so it goes)

...there’s this huge hemlock tree in the woods...maybe twenty minutes away if I walk fast...just up from ever-tumbling Wissahickon Creek...it's leaning, at maybe a thirty degree angle, at the top of this kinda embankment-type hill that looks like it’s been crumbling for a long time, despite long-ago efforts to shore it up with a stone wall...a number of smaller trees and rocks looking like they’ve fallen somewhat recently...but its roots are gripping onto a big rock jutting out from the hillside....the question is, how strong is the tree’s grip? and how well anchored is the rock?

Roots are strong.
Gary Snyder

...vrksasana...tree pose in English...involves balancing on one foot...a yoga teacher once told me it’s about staying rooted and confident, no matter how the winds might blow or how unsteady you might feel...

...in the courtyard of my building, there were four huge oaks, each at least a century old... forming a gigantic rectangle...a month or so ago, some men came and cut one of them down...no explanation....most likely, there was imminent danger of the tree falling on the building...and, no doubt, a tree that size could do a lot of damage...so I couldn’t complain...nonetheless, I feel sad whenever I see the stump there and realize that, even if somebody plants a seed tomorrow, it'll be at least a century...long after I'm dead and gone...before there'll be another one like it there...

...I wrote that a while ago...unrelated to trees or symmetry, last night I gave the management notice that I’m moving...just down the street, but moving nonetheless...

Saturday, February 28, 2009

The Lady MacBeth of Soap


When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed into a monstrous vermin. He was lying on his back as hard as armor plate, and when he lifted his head a little, he saw his vaulted brown belly, sectioned by arch-shaped ribs, to whose dome the cover, about to slide off completely, could barely cling. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, were waving helplessly before his eyes.
Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis

Unforgiveness is like drinking poison and hoping it will kill your enemies.
Nelson Mandela

...I try to have compassion for all things...all living things, in particular...and yet, when I see a cockroach running across my kitchen linoleum...smack goes my bare hand, as nothing else can be grabbed quickly enough to get the fucker before he disappears into a crack somewhere...which means I’ve got cockroach pieces & guilt all over my fingers...so I go to the bathroom & wash it off with water & my environmentally conscious soap...and yet, some little brown slice o’ cockroach sticks to the soap...and it won’t come off...seriously, it’s like the Lady MacBeth of soap...