Emily Dickinson's 366 poems written in 1862, averaging a poem a day inspired me
to write a haiku a day in 2007. The haikus were written as exercises in mindfulness—
an attempt to catch the fleeting moment in my daily walks,
while reading, listening to music, and pondering about life.
Mom had told me about the Chinese tradition that whatever you do on New Year's Day,
will be carried on for the rest of the year. When the clock struck midnight, I was reading Rumi poems, hoping that
his cosmic mind will inspire me to do likewise— bringing out
one's Buddha nature in everyday life.
Then on January 10, I went
to Robert Pinsky's "The Occasions of Poetry" class at Stanford.
I was hoping to sit in the back of the class and learn about the
craft of poetry from this U.S. Poet Laureate (1997-2000). To my surprise,
the class was a Poetry Workshop for 18 students, requiring submission
of five poems to be accepted into the class. I came in empty handed,
but thanks to Pinsky's magnanimity, he allowed me to stay. Even more
surprising, he asked me to participate in his workshop and bring poems
to be critiqued. I felt in seventh heaven! Thanks to his kindness,
I did a web page on Pinsky as well typing up my notes to his Stanford
Poetry Reading and Colloquim. My first four poems of 2007
were from Pinsky's Workshop— "The Maguari Stork", "Small Talk: Desperate Students",
"First Poem in Paris", and "Sage & Sin".
As a final project, Pinsky assigned us to compile a Poetry Anthology
to share with our classmates. This was such a joyful project that I wrote
a preface to each poem selected introducing them as old friends.
In the Spring Semester, I audited "Film Studies 152: Cinema Machine"
taught by Professors Scott Bukatman & Pavle Levi at Stanford (April 4-June 6).
The film screenings and talks by both instructors inspired me to write
haikus on the films as well as the subject of desire and the sublime.
I have grouped them together under "Haikus: Cinema Machine".
The 31st Foothill College Writers' Conference provided poetry writing
exercises. Six poems from these workshops are included—
"Lightning Strikes Silent Pond", "Sweetest Sacred Sound",
"Music to Another World", "Imagination & Music",
"Make-Believe Ballroom: Money to Burn", and "First Memory: The Well"
"The Arc of Your Smile" was written for Wendy Abraham on her retirement
as the Associate Director (2001-2007) of Stanford's Asian Religious & Cultures Initiative.
Her presence at the Buddhist, Tibetan, Zen, and Zoroastrian lectures made
those events so enjoyable and enlightening. The poems "Heaven Is..." and
"The Heavenly Moment" were in response from a friend's phone question
to complete the sentence "Heaven is..." It made me recall all the epiphany
moments in my life that seemed so heavenly. "Lunar Eclipse" was written
on Goethe's birthday, August 28, as I watched the progression of a total
lunar eclipse from my balcony. "Ascension" was a response poem inspired
by Denise's surprise email, a friend from Dick Maxwell's Foothill College Poetry Workshops,
whom I've not heard from in ten years.
When Marcel Marceau died on September 22, it brought back wonderful memories
with him after his performance in Boston (1974). Miraculously I found the homemade card
he signed for me decades earlier. This inspired the
poem "My Moment with Marcel Marceau". When the film critic David Thomson gave
a seminar "What Do Film Critics Do?" at Stanford Humanities Center (Nov. 14),
he screened Antonini's film The Passenger (1975). He told
students to write a paragraph on this mysterious film. An hour before his Discussion Seminar,
I wrote "The Mystery Girl" and read it in class which he enjoyed.
After reading "A Professor's Farewell Sparks a Media Frenzy" in the Nov. 16
issue of New York Times, I was deeply touched by Randy Pausch's
Last Lecture "Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams" at Carnegie Mellon.
The poem "The Last Lecture" is in honor of him,
recalling other parting words to students that have moved me. What's remarkable
about Randy Pausch is his transformation as a human being that is so endearing
and exemplary to us all. He was an arrogant bright freshman at
Brown University, but when told of this by Professor Andy Van Dam, he took it
to heart and changed his life. He lessened his pride and started helping
others. It reminded me of Rilke's poem
Archaic Torso of Apollo: "You must change your life." So Randy
performed the alchemical transformation in his life turning lead to gold.
My last poem of 2007 "Meeting Goethe in Heidelberg" continues this theme
of alchemical transformation. Inspired by the gold ginkgo leaves during my
walks in Mountain View and at Stanford, I imagined meeting Goethe in
Heidelberg where he wrote his "Gingko Biloba" poem. Goethe visited Heidelberg
in 1775, 1797, 1814-1815. I was there in 1976 and enjoyed my walk on the
Philosopher's Way overlooking the Neckar River. My visit to the Alchemy
Museum at Castle Heidelberg was equally delightful.
My query to Goethe on the craft of writing and his response
on the Alchemical craft paying homage to the trees and paper we write
on and read in books was revelatory to me. May readers of these poems
enjoy the epiphanies that came to me as gifts of 2007.
Peter Y. Chou
Mountain View, December 31, 2007
