Greenpoint, October, 2015

Friday, July 5, 2013

The Buddha is Always at the Wheel

P.W. far right
Philip Whalen might seem an unlikely candidate for our summer series, "Drivers Ed... For Poets." One of his best known early poems (1955-56), "Sourdough Mountain Lookout," reflect his experiences of nature, and isolation, as a fire lookout on Sauk Mountain in the North Cascades.

I always say I won't go back to the mountains
I am too old there are bugs mean mules
And pancakes every morning of the world

Along with the pancakes, bugs, mules, and fir trees come quotations from Heraclitus and the Buddha. After years of study in the U.S. and Japan, Whalen became a Zen Buddhist monk (eventually head monk of Dharma Sangha in Santa Fe.)

He returns to the experiences of mountains throughout his work. Here is the beginning of "Walking" (1965?) from Overtime: Selected Poems:

It is possible--I found out near the top of Sauk Mountain--to walk. As you lift one foot the earth turns the mountain under you, your foot comes down in a different place.

Walking is a constant in Whalen's work. But so is driving. And cars! Here is a short poem from 1963:

I
REFUSE
to be taken in
kindly stop the car
are you really sick
kindly stop the car
you're just kidding
do you want me to vomit down the back of your neck?
what's wrong?
"the heart has its reasons that reason knows not of."

And an excerpt from a longer poem called "Three Variations, All About Love" (1955):

Refuse to see me!
Don't answer the door or the telephone
Fly off in a dragon-chariot
Forget you ever knew me

But wherever you are
Is a corner of me, San Juan Letrán
Or Montreal, Brooklyn
Or the Lion Gate

Under my skin at the Potala
Behind my eyes at Benares
Far in my shoulder at Port-au-Prince
Lifted in my palm among stars

Anywhere you must be you
Drugged, drunk or mad
As old, as young, whatever you are
Living or dying the place will be me

And I alone the car that carries you away.

(The photo above comes from the This Recording blog, accompanying a piece by Whalen about becoming and being a writer. I have no idea who the other people are--or whose car it is they are leaning against!)

4 comments:

  1. Another possible title for this...."As The Dharma Wheel Turns".

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  2. Swell to clamp the old glims on dear crotchety non-driver buddha Philip, looking good there in the glare of the waste land.

    Speaking of ancient failing eyes, when mine glimpsed the word "REFUSE" the first association was.... way off base.

    But as I'd been thinking of you anyway (well, your neck of the plumbing), in putting it together, thought you might be interested in this little silent prayer:

    Memorial / Wil Blanche: City of Garbage, 1973

    Off base indeed... but that's probably moot, for as we have been informed, ALL YOUR BASE BELONG TO US.

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    Replies
    1. Tom - Sorry to hear about your accident but admire the spirit of the thumb. Not sure why your comment didn't wind up here. NSA must have zapped it but I am very pleased to be linked on your site.

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  3. TC Was PW a non-driver? I like the image of passenger or backseat driver almost better as a poet's vantage of driving, the road, etc. Just noticing that two of the poems I cited include "refuse." Though not in the sense of the Wil Blanche photos of the Croton landfill on your blog. We can but refuse will have the last word/world.

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